Ellie’s eyes lit up. “She seems like a very nice person,” she began, “very pleasant and friendly. Kind of old-fashioned, but in a nice sort of way . . . like I’d expect a grandmother or great-grandmother to be.”
“What about the house?” he asked.
“It’s beautiful. I love old houses. They have so much to offer. So much personality.” Her eyes swept the room. “I could see myself living here.”
Those words were music to Caleb’s ears. The tinkling of ice in glasses turned their attention to the doorway. Miss Cora entered, carrying a tray with three tall glasses of lemonade and a plate of fresh, warm gingersnaps. Caleb smiled, grateful that some things never change.
After enjoying the refreshments and talking a while longer, Miss Cora showed them the rest of the house. The front parlor, a formal dining room, a large kitchen, and a half bath occupied the first floor. The upstairs consisted of three good-sized bedrooms and two bathrooms. The guest bathroom down the hall boasted a black and white tile floor, and a beautiful old claw foot tub with a curtain hung from a suspended oval shower rod.
Although showing its age, the house was clean and tidy, and had been well maintained over the years. The guest room for the boarder was the largest of the three bedrooms. Painted a soothing pale blue, it had a double bay window with a bench seat overlooking the side yard with its colorful dogwoods and stately oaks. While the closet was modest, the room itself contained a double bed with brass head and foot boards, a nightstand and lamp, a dresser and mirror, and a small table and chair.
Caleb’s ears perked up when Miss Cora mentioned that the room came furnished. That thought never occurred to him.
The trio went back down the banister staircase and out onto the front porch. Caleb and Ellie took a seat on the white porch swing while Miss Cora chose the padded wooden rocker.
Ellie gleefully tested out the swing. “I love porch swings,” she blurted out happily. “One of my favorite childhood memories is of my mother and me swinging on one much like this. Only I think it was green. And a little bit wider.”
“My husband and I bought that one about ten years ago at a garage sale,” the widow reminisced. “Somewhere south of Chesapeake, I think. Got a good deal on it, too, if my memory serves me correctly.” She smiled, and the wrinkles spread out across her face. “It sat in the garage for about a year before Henry cleaned it up and hung it there. I always wanted a porch swing.”
“What’s this?” Ellie’s fingers traced the outline of a heart carved into the right arm of the swing. Caleb leaned across her to see what she was referring to.
“Oh, that.” Miss Cora giggled like a schoolgirl. “Henry carved it with his pocket knife on our wedding anniversary. Which one I can’t remember.” She leaned forward and pointed a finger at the artwork. “That’s our initials. See the ‘H.W.’ and the ‘C.W.’?
It was cute watching the elderly woman blush at the memory of the romantic occasion.
“Aw, that’s so sweet.” Ellie ran her hand over the initials. “Have you used this swing much?”
“Oh my, yes! We spent many wonderful evenings on that swing. Before he passed away.” A momentary sadness crossed her face, but then she smiled. “But I’m grateful to the Lord for the seven years He allowed us to enjoy this swing together.”
“That’s about how long I got to enjoy swinging with my mother.” Ellie paused. Then, with a seriousness that took him by surprise, she confessed, “I need to be more grateful for the short time I had with her.”
Miss Cora nodded in agreement. “Amen, child. Be thankful for the time God gives you. I’ve lived a lot of years, but the truth is, whether it’s seven years or seventy years, it all goes by way too fast. The Bible says our life is short, like a vapor which appears for a little while.” She waved her hand in a circle. “And then . . . poof! It vanishes away.” The old woman settled back in her rocker.
“Thank the good Lord eternal life is as long as this life is short,” the old woman smiled sweetly. “I had fifty-one wonderful years with my Henry. And now two without him. But our separation is only temporary, just like this life. It’s just a drop in the bucket compared to eternity.”
Toward the end of the visit, the widow asked Ellie if she was satisfied with the living arrangements. After assuring Miss Cora that the house was perfect, Ellie reluctantly raised the subject of rent.
She began to explain her financial situation, but the elderly woman stopped her with an uplifted hand. “You needn’t go into all that, my dear,” she said gently. “Caleb’s told me a little about your plight already. Let me ask you this, though.” She stopped her slow rocking and leaned forward. “Are you willing to help out with the housework? Things like dusting, vacuuming, laundry, that sort of thing?”
Ellie seemed to be caught off guard. “Oh, uh . . . well, yes, of course. I’ve done household chores since I was a kid. And I’ve always done my own laundry.”
“What about cooking? Might you be able to help with that?”
“Yes. My previous foster mother had me prepare an entire family meal once a week. I wasn’t too happy about it at the time, but the experience taught me how to follow a recipe and how to cook. I actually enjoy it now.”
Caleb wondered what this line of questioning had to do with rent, but Miss Cora wasn’t finished yet. “And what about company? Would you be willing to sit on that porch swing and keep a lonely old woman company from time to time? Not every day, mind you. I know you have your own life to live. But on occasion, perhaps?”
Caleb caught the twinkle in Miss Cora’s eye.
“Miss Cora,” Ellie replied, with a sweet smile, “I would consider it an honor to sit and talk with you. Whenever you want. I’m sure there’s a lot I can learn from you. And I would be happy to help you with whatever housework needs to be done. Meals, too. Whatever you need. Only . . . ” she hesitated, “ . . . only I’m not sure if I can afford the rent. I do have a job, but it’s only part-time, and I’m trying to save enough for college next fall. What are you asking to rent the room?”
“Rent? My dear, I’m not looking for a renter. I’m looking for a boarder.”
“I’m not sure I understand what you mean,” Ellie asked, a puzzled expression on her face. “Is there a difference?”
“Oh my, yes. At least, as far as I’m concerned, there is. A renter is someone who pays me rent money. A boarder is someone who doesn’t.” She paused to let this sink in. Then she chuckled. “Honey, I don’t want your money. Goodness, no. You keep that for college. Besides, God has already provided my needs through Henry’s Navy pension. I want you to live here in exchange for helping me around the house, that’s all. Why do you think I was asking all the questions about housework?” She shook her head wearily and sighed. “I can’t seem to keep up with the cleaning and cooking like I used to.”
The fire returned to her eyes, and she added a feisty exclamation point by thumping her cane on the porch deck. “But I’m sure not ready to move into that old folk’s home any time soon!”
Caleb and Ellie laughed in unison. Somehow, he couldn’t picture Miss Cora living anywhere but in this big old house, and driving that big old car. Ellie thanked the older woman profusely. With tears in her eyes, she promised to do everything she could to lighten the kindhearted woman’s burden.
They said their goodbyes and were walking down the front sidewalk to Caleb’s car when Miss Cora called out to them with an afterthought reminiscent of the famous disheveled TV detective, Columbo. “Oh, just one more thing.”
The pair stopped and turned to face the diminutive firebrand. “Just so you know, in my house, there’s no smoking, drinking, or cursing. And no loud music.”
The following Sunday morning, Caleb was up extra early. He dressed and ate breakfast with the family, and then left in his car to pick up Ellie for church. He was so excited that she was finally coming, and that his parents would finally get to meet her. The other kids had been thrilled to learn in youth group Wednesday night that God, in ans
wer to their prayers, had provided a safe place for her to live. Caleb had offered to be present when Ellie talked to her foster parents about moving out, but she had thought it would be best if she talked to them alone.
To her surprise, they had agreed to let her move out any time, so long as she maintained her legal residence with them until her eighteenth birthday, something she was more than willing to do. They had also promised to file her emancipation paperwork at that time.
Caleb pulled over to the curb outside the Markle’s small, run-down house. Its roof was missing several shingles, and one gutter was hanging loose at the corner. The once-white fence out front was a weather-beaten grayish color, and several pickets were askew or missing completely. The lawn was a tangle of weeds and dandelions, and in desperate need of a good haircut. No wonder Ellie hadn’t wanted anyone to know where she lived. He could only imagine what the interior of the house was like. If it were maintained—or rather ignored—like the exterior, it must be a miserable place in which to live.
As he got out and walked around the front of his car, the front door opened and Ellie stepped out onto the crumbling stoop. He stopped, and stared. She was wearing a shimmering silvery-gray dress, with simple but elegant lines. She wore matching low-heeled shoes and carried a small white clutch purse in one hand. Her shining auburn hair was brushed neatly and pinned back on both sides, framing her face in a way that made her skin glow in the morning sunlight. He had never seen her in anything but worn jeans and T-shirts, or a Pet-Palace work shirt.
He was stunned at how beautiful she looked.
Ellie came down the sidewalk toward him and smiled. “Good morning!”
“You look . . . amazing!” He was suddenly aware that he was staring at her, and blushed.
She laughed at his awkwardness. “What’s the matter, Caleb Sawyer? Are you surprised at how well I can clean up?”
She twirled around in a circle like a runway model.
His face grew even hotter. “No,” he stammered, “it’s not that. It’s just that, well, I’ve never seen you wear anything like that before.”
Apparently, she enjoyed his discomfort. “Well, I would have worn it to school, but I thought it might make me look uppity or something. Besides, I’m not interested in attracting attention to myself.” She looked herself over, smoothing out her dress. “Do you think it’s okay for church, though?”
Caleb looked at his polo shirt and blue jeans and felt grossly under-dressed compared to the beauty standing in front of him. “That’s fine,” he reassured her. “A lot of girls wear dresses on Sunday mornings. And some of the guys even wear sport coats and ties.” He hesitated. “I didn’t dress up because I wasn’t sure what you’d be wearing.”
Ellie smiled appreciatively at him. “That was very thoughtful of you, Caleb. I figured I’d better wear it just in case. Actually, it’s the only dress I have.” She eyed his outfit. “But you look great just the way you are.”
“Thanks.” Relieved that the wardrobe issue was settled, he opened the passenger door for her and she got in.
Caleb couldn’t remember when he’d ever had a better time at church. He introduced Ellie to his mom and dad, who were in the lobby greeting people as they arrived. Cassie was already with her friends somewhere in the classroom wing of the building, but she would join them later for the worship service in the auditorium.
They made their way down the central hallway to the youth room, where the other teens went out of their way to welcome Ellie. Kelli and Allison pulled her aside, which allowed Caleb a chance to talk with B.J. and Aaron, and some of the other guys. Before the class began, he introduced her to Tony and his wife, Amanda, who both expressed their delight to finally meet her.
Later, during the congregational singing in the main service, Caleb shared a hymn book with Ellie. They stood with Allison and B.J. on one side, and Kelli and Aaron on the other. His church, like many other churches, sang a mixture of contemporary songs and older hymns. Lyrics of songs not in the hymnal were projected on the screen behind the platform. Ellie picked up the melodies very quickly, and proved to have a very good singing voice.
Pastor Murphy preached about Jesus’ parable of the rich man and Lazarus in Luke sixteen. He pointed out that from the world’s perspective, the rich man had everything going for him, while Lazarus was poor, diseased, and an outcast in society. But that changed when both men died. The rich man died and was buried, whereas Lazarus died and was carried. He declared that those who reject Christ in this life enter eternity alone, and spend it tormented alone in Hell, while those who accept Christ are ushered triumphantly into eternity, where they will be with Jesus and all the other believers forever in paradise.
During the message, Caleb glanced at Ellie sitting beside him. She was listening intently, hanging on to every word. Sensing his look, she returned it with a smile.
Following the service, Caleb walked Ellie to his car.
“I really enjoyed your church,” she announced, as they drove back to her house. “Everyone was so friendly. I think I understand now what you meant when you said they’re like family. The people all seem so happy.”
Caleb spoke while looking at the road. “It’s kinda like a family reunion every Sunday. But that doesn’t mean everything’s perfect all the time. Remember what I told you about Allison? She lost both her parents in a car wreck. I lost my brother. We still have the same struggles and heartaches as everyone else, but we have each other to share our burdens with. Then there’s the Lord, of course. He carries them as well. That’s why Christians can be joyful even if their circumstances aren’t very good.”
“The preacher was good, too,” Ellie commented, changing the subject a bit. “I think it’s ironic that the poor man went to heaven instead of the rich man. I take it the moral of the story is that it’s not what you have or do in this life that gets you to heaven, but what you believe in. Am I right?”
Caleb glanced at her. “Well, yes. Only I don’t think it’s what you believe in, but Who you believe in. I heard a guy on the radio say there are a lot of cultural Christians in the world. People who have a belief system that accepts the ideas and teachings of Christianity, but don’t have a personal relationship with Jesus Himself. It’s the difference between knowing about Jesus, and actually knowing Jesus. They believe that what He said is true, but they don’t act on that belief and accept Him as their personal Lord and Savior.” He paused and shot her another glance. “Do you see the difference?”
She tilted her head to one side, and then looked across the seat at him. “Yes, I think so. It’s that idea of believing with your heart and not just your head, right?” She wagged a finger at him. “See, I didn’t forget what you told me.”
They shared a laugh as the car pulled up to the rundown house that would soon be a part of Ellie’s past.
Monday was moving day for Ellie, and both she and Caleb could barely wait for school to conclude for the day. They had talked to Miss Cora after church, and she had promised to have the room ready that afternoon. B.J., Allison, and Kelli had offered to help with the transition. Ellie had been a tad uneasy about them meeting her foster parents, and seeing the dilapidated house she had called home for the past five months, but was so grateful for their kindness that she had accepted their help.
Allison’s grandfather was even loaning his old pickup truck for the move, as long as Allison did the driving. The teens were meeting at Ellie’s house at four. She’d told them at lunch that most of her things were packed and ready to load. In addition to a number of boxes and suitcases, the only furniture she was taking with her was a large trunk where she kept her artwork and supplies, and an old flat-topped oak desk she used as a drawing table.
Caleb was anxious to meet the Markles. Ever since the rainy day when he’d first taken Ellie home, he’d been curious to see what they were really like. He had pictured Tony Markle as a short, balding man with a perpetual two-day stubble on his face. The hair around his ears tinged with gray and in as m
uch need of a haircut as the lawn out front. Yellowed and crooked teeth and a large beer belly. Slovenly dressed in an old wife-beater and stained jeans. Someone as undisciplined and careless about his health and appearance as he was about the rest of his life. As for Beverly Markle, he had pictured her as an overweight, brutishly grim woman who marched around the house in hair curlers, house robe, and worn slippers, yelling and cursing all the time.
Caleb pulled up to the curb outside the dilapidated house ahead of his friends, who were being picked up by Allison in the truck. The first thing he noticed was that the yard had been recently mowed, and the picket fence had been hastily mended.
A dented trash can, minus the lid, peeked around the back corner of the house. The long necks of a number of beer bottles flowed over the rim. The Markles were apparently attempting to put their best foot forward for the movers.
As he approached the front concrete stoop, he saw that the doorbell was missing. Only the red and white low-voltage wires protruded from the hole that marked its former location. He knocked on the dented metal door and waited, fully expecting Ellie to greet him. It turned out to be Tony Markle instead.
Mr. Markle was nothing like he’d imagined. Taller than Caleb by a couple of inches, and very thin, he possessed a full head of dark, slicked back hair and a neatly trimmed goatee. He was impeccably dressed and sported a gold chain around his neck and an expensive watch on his wrist. He could have been a slick lawyer or politician from all outward appearances.
With a big smile and grandiose gesture he welcomed the teen into the house. “Come in, Caleb. Welcome!”
The man extended his hand, and Caleb shook it politely.
“Thank you.” Caleb stepped into the small, dimly lit living room.
“It’s so nice to finally meet you.” His tone struck Caleb as overly friendly. “This is Ellie’s mother, Beverly.”
Mrs. Markle stepped out from behind her husband. Ellie had never called her “mother” before, and no doubt would have cringed to hear him use that term. Just another part of the charade, he thought.
A Future and a Hope Page 13