The pattern was soon established and without much fuss. Solon was kind if not terribly demonstrative to Lou. That was fine with her. There was warmth and consideration when they retired to their big four poster cherry bed Uncle Joe T. had made and given them as a wedding present seven years ago. There were no children, but not from want of trying. Lou and Solon's rhythms were comfortable with him evoking her laughter and her common sense grounding his energy.
On the circuit from late September to about Easter, Solon tended best he could Universalist groups found in little country churches, farm house parlors, a few town churches, county seat rental halls and brush arbors from Columbus, Georgia to Mobile, Alabama to Jackson, Mississippi to Decatur, Alabama. He usually had a half dozen public meetings during his six months itinerancy for the revival of the faithful and attraction of new flock. Lou had secured worn railroad schedules from the Louisville - Nashville, Mobile and Montgomery, Alabama Central, Alabama and Chattanooga and Western RR of Alabama. She knew as much about railroads of the area as any passenger train dispatcher in the South. She was always given Solon's "preacher book", a big leather bound ledger, at the first meal they shared when he came home the week after Easter. She took delight in reading in his hand the recordings of his sermons and their scripture source, the places given, number of listeners, weather on the occasion, the names of the wedding couples, baptisms, christenings and funerals. He was nearly half way through filing his second volume since their wedding.
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"Mama Bear, you got any of your yellow salve? My back, here, hurts like the dickens." Lou put each hand behind her and rubbed the kidney area as she came into the kitchen for morning coffee.
"You making water all right, Lou?" Mama Bear began her uninvited consultation. With Lou's affirmation of the regular workings of that bodily function, Mama Bear said, "It's all that climbing and toting you been doing. You don't recognize when you're tired out!" her grandmother chided her.
"I do, Mama. I just don't stop. Too much work to do with Alex in Nashville on Mr. Jones' business," Lou answered patiently. "Brother needed that trip," Lou added.
"Your moon times regular, girl?" Mama Bear asked. The grandmother had not taken notice of Lou's fuller cheeks and tighter clothes. After the first few years of Lou's marriage Mama Bear had let concern for great-grandchildren decrease and barely be a part of her thoughts. Lou's subtle change of appearance had not registered with Mama Bear until just then. At seventy-one, her vision was not what it had been. Dr. Stone said the cataracts were normal and short of very dangerous surgery in Nashville, there was not much to be done. Lou looked at her solemnly, "Well no. I'm overdue for this time and missed the last moon."