Baxter Road Miracle

By Carlene Havel

Henry Youngblood is determined to plant a new church in Buffalo Creek, despite seemingly insurmountable obstacles. He struggles to erect a building while fending off an overzealous construction inspector.

Meanwhile, Henry's wife Ellen has practical concerns about paying the bills and providing for their late-in-life baby.

Teenaged daughter Pauline longs for a college education she cannot possibly afford, while her younger sister Susan pursues popularity.

It will take a miracle for the Youngblood family's dreams to come true.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chavelbooks LLC
• Release date: Feb 25, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224974818

Carlene Havel

Carlene Havel writes sweet romance, Christian.romances, and historical novels. She has lived in Turkey, Republic of the Philippines, and numerous US states. After a career in human resources and software development, she began writing in 2005. The Havels live in Texas, surrounded by their extended family.

Book preview

Dedication

Dear Daddy,

This story reminds me of the way you were. If you were here, we would reminisce about the good times we had. I’d like to think you always kept those days stored inside, even after Alzheimer’s took away your ability to talk about them. You will never read Baxter Road Miracle but maybe someone will. I hope it gives them an appreciation of the idealistic dreamer you used to be. You believed you could do anything, and so did I.

This is the only gift I can give you now, Daddy. It’s an unconventional present, but that’s appropriate for you, isn’t it? I’ll see you someday in that place where there are no more tears. Meanwhile, sweet dreams.

Carlene

***

My life hasn’t been spent. It has been invested.–M. H. Houston

Chapter One

Late Spring, 1961

Ellen Youngblood kicked off her shoes and nestled into a corner of the sofa. With her husband at a meeting and her daughters doing their lessons, she looked forward to a rare evening of leisure time. She opened a squeaky end table drawer to retrieve a well-worn fashion magazine. Oh, to have the First Lady’s cool, elegant looks! Ellen absently touched her light brown tresses, neatly pulled into a bun. No, a pillbox hat needs a bouffant hairdo to look right. Ellen sighed. A new hairstyle wouldn’t give me Jackie Kennedy’s height. Or sense of style. And I’ll never be that slender. A pastor’s wife ought not to be so absorbed in fashion trends, anyway. The unexpected sound of footsteps on the front porch interrupted Ellen’s thoughts.

She threw open the front door. You’re home early. What happened?

The deacons voted down the land deal. Henry came inside and sat hunched forward on the sofa. His handsome face was devoid of all expression.

Ellen closed the door, but continued to stand at the threshold. I thought they were all in favor. She crossed the room and sat next to her husband. Putting an arm around him, she asked, How could this happen?

Henry exhaled and rubbed his face with both hands. I don’t know. Brad Roberts did most of the talking. He loosened his tie and rested his elbows on his knees, chin in hand. Obviously there was another meeting—one I wasn’t invited to—before we got together tonight.

Ellen listened to the sounds of pencils scratching in the dining room, hoping her teenaged daughters missed their father’s abrupt announcement. She rubbed Henry’s back, struggling to understand the situation. What do the deacons want to do? Shop around for a different piece of land?

They don’t want to do anything, he said. Sit tight. Take a wait and see attitude. Die on the vine. Henry shrugged Ellen’s arm away and removed his suit coat. I am so sure it’s God’s will for us to build our new building in Buffalo Creek. He turned to face his wife. Where have I gone wrong?

Oh, honey. This isn’t your fault. She picked up his jacket. Do you want me to fix you something to eat?

No, I’m too upset to think about food right now.

Let me hang up your coat, Ellen said. Henry followed her to their bedroom, where she put his jacket on a hanger and smoothed out the wrinkles.

Henry never stayed long at the churches he pastored. The usual end of his employment occurred when conservative church leaders opposed her husband’s big plans. By now, the pattern was familiar. Henry would take on some small, half-dead church and double or triple the attendance within a year. With an overflowing sanctuary, he would begin to push for expansion or replacement of church facilities. The cost of Henry’s recommendations would spark heated controversy, and soon the Youngbloods packed up and moved on.

Did the deacons ask for your resignation? Ellen asked.

They didn’t have to. I gave them notice on the spot.

She patted his shoulder. Maybe you should pray about this.

"I have prayed, Henry said. There won’t be anything left of this neighborhood when that interstate highway cuts through here. God is leading us out to the suburbs, to Buffalo Creek. Where there’s no vision, the people perish, Ellen."

Did you ask how long we can stay in the parsonage? She swept her eyes around their bedroom. She would miss her home. It was their nicest house they’d lived in since Henry started preaching nine years and four churches ago. A spacious place with three big bedrooms didn’t come along every day.

We didn’t talk about anything but the land, Henry replied. I gave them three months to find a new pastor. If they find someone sooner, that’s fine with me.

Maybe this will all work out after everyone has a chance to cool off, Ellen said.

Henry drew his wife into an embrace and kissed her. No. I’ve had it with these people. Tomorrow morning, we’ll start packing and get ready to move. Somewhere.

What do we tell the girls? Ellen asked, turning her face to nestle a cheek against Henry’s chest.

There’s nothing to tell until we figure out what I’m supposed to do next.

Ellen sighed. We can’t wait too long. People will ask questions Sunday, and the kids have to be prepared. The church would probably not offer to pay Henry any kind of bonus or severance, and he would be too stubborn to ask. Thankful she had a little money put aside, Ellen hugged her husband tightly. This is obviously not the right evening to break the news I’m pregnant. There’s still time before I start to show.

***

Sixteen-year-old Pauline Youngblood whispered to her sister, Did you hear what Daddy said?

Still staring at her general science textbook, Susan mumbled, Maybe they’ll take us out of school before the end of the year, like they did when we moved to Tennessee.

Aren’t you two through with your homework yet?" Henry asked as he walked through the dining room.

Pauline closed her math book. I was just doing some equations for extra credit.

I’m almost done, Susan added.

Hurry up, Henry said. It’s almost bedtime. You know you are supposed to do your lessons as soon as you get home from school.

Pauline knew better than to remind her father that on Thursdays she and Susan had to put the church bulletin together before they began to study.

Chapter Two

Ellen slipped out of bed and moved the alarm toggle to keep from interrupting Henry’s sleep. After awakening her daughters, she began to cook breakfast. Ellen hoped the girls wouldn’t have to give up the luxury of having a private bedroom in their next house. She tried to ignore the churning in her stomach brought on by the smell of frying bacon. Where’s Susan? she asked when Pauline came into the kitchen.

Pauline turned around. I’ll check on her.

Quietly. Daddy’s still snoozing.

Pauline found her sister sound asleep. Wake up, sleepy head. She tugged on Susan’s foot. What are doing back in bed?

Susan moaned and turned away.

Come on, Suzy Q, you’ll miss the bus if you don’t get a move on. Pauline shook her sister’s shoulder.

Susan sat on the edge of the bed and groaned. I hate getting up in the morning.

If you don’t hurry, you won’t have time to fix your hair, Pauline said.

Suddenly wide eyed, Susan sprang from the bed and sprinted to the bathroom, pulling curlers from her hair as she went. Pauline smoothed the bedspread, making sure the rows of chenille dots were perfectly straight. While she was content to braid her pale blond hair, Susan could fuss all morning with her ponytail and the spit curl that absolutely had to rest in front of each ear.

Pauline sat at the dining table. She didn’t understand how anyone could eat eggs or oatmeal first thing in the morning. Her breakfast was the same every day, a big glass of whole milk, along with crisp bacon between two slices of toast with jelly. She disliked jam because whole berries or lumps of fruit interfered with her sandwich’s neatness. Taking care to spread her toast with a perfectly even coating of grape jelly, she asked, Is Daddy leaving Calvary Church?

Ellen stood still but did not turn from the stove to face her daughter. Yes. After a moment, she resumed scrambling eggs.

Where are we going? Pauline asked.

Your father hasn’t decided that yet, Ellen scraped the eggs onto a plate and wiped both hands on her apron. What’s Susan doing?

Fixing her hair. Do you think we will have to move before school is out?

After placing the plate of eggs on the table, Ellen brushed her daughter’s bangs back from her forehead with one hand. We’ll see. Why don’t you gather up Susan’s books for her as soon as you finish eating? I’ll pack some breakfast she can have on the way to school.

Ellen gave each daughter thirty-five cents for lunch and stood at her front window to watch them walk to the bus stop. Dropping the curtain, she went to her bedroom and awakened her husband by kissing his forehead.

Henry roused slightly, and then jumped to his feet as if startled. What time is it? Did I oversleep?

It’s seven forty-five, Ellen replied. But the only thing on today’s schedule is getting ready to move, if you still want to.

Henry raked a hand through his sand-colored hair. Oh, yes. I forgot. We have to go by the grocery store this morning and get boxes. He yawned and stretched, flexing his sculpted arm and chest muscles. He still did enough physical labor to maintain his carpenter’s physique. What’s for breakfast?

The couple lingered over coffee after enjoying their meal together. I want to go ahead and get my personal belongings out of the church building now, before Sunday. Then you and I can take a drive out to Buffalo Creek, Henry said.

Ellen saw no reason for the Buffalo Creek detour, but she offered no argument. Unlike other pastors’ wives she was acquainted with, she never felt a specific call to Christian service. Nevertheless, when her husband told her of his decision to enter the ministry, Ellen supported him without complaint. When Henry turned his thriving construction business over to his partner, Ellen recognized the depth of her husband’s spiritual commitment. She often wondered if his urge to expand church facilities was rooted partly in his lifelong love of building things.

As the Youngbloods began to transfer the contents of Henry’s office to the back of their station wagon, Ellen selected a small, sturdy cardboard box for Henry’s collection of sermon outlines. She couldn’t help