Susie May: The Thomas Sisters, #3

By Kathryn Spurgeon

A Short Story. Susie May, the shy middle daughter, marries the most handsome band director in the country. After many moves and disappointments, what will she do when his tragic, double life becomes known in her hometown?

Each of the Five Thomas Sisters faces extreme circumstances that test their faith. Living in Oklahoma during the 1930s Dust Bowl makes these issues more challenging.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Memory House Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Mar 1, 2019
• ISBN: 9780997334784

Kathryn Spurgeon

Kathryn Spurgeon, a graduate of the University of Oklahoma, is a Christian historical novelist. An award winning author, she has published hundreds of devotionals, poems, articles and short stories. She and her husband have six children and twelve grandchildren. They help international college students and make their home in Edmond, Oklahoma. Visit her website at www.kathrynspurgeon.com

Book preview

Susan May Thomas Lindsey

Born November 15, 1889

Chapter 1

August 1931

My heart spun like a ball of yarn, running from room to room, helping my sisters put my house in order. The snug, fluffy feeling had lasted all day.

Susie! My sister Jennie’s voice rang through the open kitchen door at me. Where’re the rest of the dishes? I’m trying to get them all washed up.

Before I could answer, Till yelled, I finished the bathroom! If it’s all right, I’ll unpack the boxes in the boys’ room next.

My sisters trampled through our newly rented home wearing scarfs to hold their hair back, busying themselves with scrubbing cabinets, rearranging dinnerware, and shuffling items from place to place as if they owned the four walls. I definitely had take-charge sisters. Their energy inspired me.

Where does this trunk go? Ann’s voice came from the living room. I can put it by the window or in your bedroom corner.

Don’t move anything heavy, Till yelled from the back room to Ann, who was pregnant with her third child. Sally Matilda, the second of the five sisters, was tall, stern, and regal, and had more confidence than the rest of us put together.

Don’t you think we should leave the books in the corner? Jennie, usually the one in charge, knew how to motivate us. Bob can organize them when she gets here. She’s good at that.

Our oldest sister, Mary Bobbie, planned to arrive from Texas this weekend.

I pushed my wire-trimmed eyeglasses up on my nose, dusted my hands on my apron, and walked into the kitchen. Jennie held a fork in her hand, stacking the silverware incorrectly. Like this, I smiled as I took the fork from her. The forks go on the left, the spoons in the middle, and the knives on the right.

It tickled me to be living near my sisters for the first time in years. I didn’t want to hurt their feelings or push them away, so I worked hard explaining where everything should go. I’d moved so many times I could set up house in my sleep.

I followed Till into the bathroom. I use baking soda on the sink instead of bleach, but if you think bleach is better, go ahead. I hoped my words were not spoken too harshly.

And please, please, don’t touch my husband’s musical instruments. Elmer’s music paraphernalia were the most important items in our house.

Our quick lunch break had consisted of chatting about our sons’ outgrown britches, gobbling down Jennie’s homemade bread, bacon, and tomato sandwiches, and reminiscing about the time we snuck out to the theatre without our mother’s approval. I glanced around at each sister, and believed this autumn looked promising. We could share hours together every day, cover every heartache, and bring joy back to my life.

Till’s words sounded like sweet music to my ears. So happy you came back home, Susie May. It makes this old town of Hollis almost bearable again. We all laughed with her, but, for me, it brought hope. Hope of a promising future.

I loved my sisters dearly and appreciated the way they jumped in to help me. They were more important to me than butterscotch and the best move of my life tasted sweeter than a dozen candies.

***

The answer to my dream of living close to my sisters happened suddenly. My husband, Elmer Lindsey, had come home with news after the last day of class—June 5, 1931. A tall, thin, attractive man, his refined features seemed downcast that day. We’re moving. Pack up everything, he said. I have a band director job at another school.

Where? I asked, puzzled. We had only lived there one year and had consistently moved around the country for almost twenty years. I hated the thought of moving again. Hated it with a dread that grew with each move.

Hollis. Teaching band at Hollis.

My eyes widened in delight. I was thrilled. This would be the first time I had looked forward to relocating.

Hollis, Oklahoma, was my home, and the town where my sisters lived, all except Bob who lived south of the Texas border. All nearing our prime, even though none of us wanted to admit it, we loved getting together. I looked forward to living in my hometown again. Right down the street from Jennie, Ann, and Till. Being the quiet, sensitive sister had its advantages. I wasn’t called upon to make tough decision or solve problems. But it had been so long since I had lived near family, I worried. Would they meddle into my family’s affairs? Of course they would. Sisters did that. Although we shared personal problems in our weekly letters to each other, I had kept most of my vexing family life to myself.

After their intrusion today, it would be hard to keep my worries hidden because secrets tended to leak out in daily lives.

Many people considered me as pliant as a tadpole. Truth was, I was born right in the middle of five daughters and simply overlooked. It seemed to be my lot in life. In a houseful of talkative girls, I had to work hard to be noticed or heard amidst my sister’s chatter.

Papa was the only family member who didn’t ignore me, a surprising approach since he was surrounded by a passel of adoring daughters. He was my hero, the one I loved beyond measure. I revered him, pulled off his work boots, brought him a cool glass of water, and rubbed his aching back when he got home from plowing the field. I would sit at his feet, idolizing like a