Moth and Rust

Hello, friends! The Country Girl Drive Cattle Drive continues—moving 111 verses from the pages of our Bible to our hearts. We are trying to memorize Matthew 5-7. The current story starts at the post called “Store Up.”

Matthew 6:19 Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but lay for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not beak in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

That morning, when Nia had chosen the green, cotton dress from her duffel bag, a moth had flown out of the folds and onto the white, cement block wall. She had checked the dress over for holes and asked her mom if it was a good choice. Her mom had smiled and given her a little nod, choosing her own clothes from her own bag. They had had the whole twelve toilet/six shower bathroom to themselves that morning. It was the last Monday in August. All the local schools had started up which meant numbers at the lake would be down now.

The wavy, grainy mirror hadn’t been a huge help with getting her part straight, but once her rust-colored hair was combed, her mom moved a few strands and declared it perfect, saying, “Better hurry. Your dad is about ready to take off. There are granola bars and bottled water in the passenger seat of the van.”

Nia had run from the bathrooms on the hill down to their tent near the lake, the humid morning air hugging her. She threw her bag in the tent, grabbed grub from the van, and beat her dad into the cab of the 1976 Ford by a mere millisecond. She was about to break into a victory chant when she saw Io’s hand on the window beside her. Nia rolled down the window, watching Io’s large, inky blue eyes fill with tears and her freckled cheeks flush with color. Nia leaned out to hug her.

“I’ll be back in a few hours.” She had felt Io nod. “Pray for me, okay?” Io had nodded again.

Now Nia was getting out of the ‘76 at the coop. The sun was baking the white, gravel drive all around the building. She felt like a loaf of bread rising . . . rising . . . and probably being burnt.

That’s all I ever do, Nia thought to herself. One whole summer at the lake and all I did was get more freckles. And burn.

She grabbed her water bottle, slammed the stubborn door shut on the truck, and braced herself for a new place and new people. When her foot stepped on that first cement step up to the office, she remembered a conversation a year earlier at her family’s church back in Missouri. She had been sitting in the foyer, talking to Mrs. Price. Mrs. Price was wearing a pretty white dress with little green, four leaf clovers running in diagonal stripes. The rhinestone buckle on her white hat reflected the bright, August light coming in the glass front doors.

“Men are afraid of women,” Mrs. Price had cautioned.

Nia had laughed.

Nia tucked the memory behind her ear, climbed the steps, took hold of the round, metal knob on the door, and strode in.

Silence, except for the dripping of a coffee maker. A table full of men, staring at her. Two rows of shelves stocked with fifty pound bags of food. Two vending machines along the wall. A metal first aid kit hung on the wall. The smell of dust. Of grain. Of coffee. And maybe fear.

Nia cleared her throat. “What do you call a redhead with an attitude?”

The youngest of the men glanced over at one of the older men and then back to her. “What?”

“Normal.”

The room broke into laughter.

When the young guy stopped laughing, he asked her if there was anything he could help her with.

She smiled. “I’m looking for a job. My dad heard you might need some office help during harvest.”

“Ah! I’ll get you an application,” the young guy said, walking to the next room.

Mia held her ground. “I’ll only work here under one condition,” Nia said, eyeing the men.

“What’s that?”

“I’m the only one who tells the redhead jokes around here.”

All the men nodded.

“Fair enough,” the young guy said, returning with the application. “My name is Blaze.”

“Funny,” Nia said. “That’s my name, too.”

“Really?”

“No. Do you have a pen?”

“Yes.”

She followed Blaze to the next room and sat down at the front window where she wrote her name in the first block on the application: NEPTUNIA.

A new universe of possibilities, Blaze thought to himself, casually glancing away from the application to look out at the big, white silos. “That’s quite the name.”

“Yeah, my dad loves space. Like, outer space. He says it makes him think about how big God is.” She paused at the “Address” box. “I go by Nia.”

“Nice to meet you, Nia.” Blaze said.

“Nice to meet you, too.” She jotted a Wichita address in the box and kept on writing.