by Lori Wick
The kids were right on time that morning, and Sophie had bran muffins for them, but the breakfast table was unusually quiet. Sophie suspected the reason, but did not offer to help. Finally, Rita spoke up.
"I'm sorry that I treated you like I did, Sophie, when you offered to help me with my German homework."
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"Is all right, Rita." The older woman's voice was kind. "You could not know."
"You sounded just like my German teacher, Sophie. I mean, your German is perfect."
Sophie smiled at the compliment.
"Is it close to Czech?" Craig now asked. "Is that how you know?"
"Not exactly, Craig. You see, I worked with languages in Czechoslovakia. This is how I know."
"What does that mean, Sophie?" Tory now put in.
"I think I told you I worked for government." Tory nodded, and Sophie went on. "Well, I worked as translator. Do you see?"
"No," the little girl said honestly.
"Well, I would work on official papers that arrived in other languages, or escort visiting officials. Translators can have many jobs. Sometimes I traveled."
"So you worked with the German and English-speaking visitors?" Rita was clearly fascinated.
"Not English, Rita. English is not fluent for me."
"Oh." Rita saw now that this would be true.
"Just German," Craig told his sister, but Sophie corrected him. The children were going to be late for school, but it was time they knew about this.
"I speak German, Italian, Russian, and Polish," she informed them softly and wanted to laugh at the looks on their faces.
"You mean you speak those other languages as well as you speak German?"
"Russian is my best," Sophie told them modestly. "I went there most."
"But you've come here to work as a housekeeper," Craig said in wonder, and Sophie looked at him with new respect.
"How does that feel, Sophie?" Rita had to know.
"At my job in Chicago it felt very bad, but I love my job here, Rita," she said honestly, and then caught Craig's eyes. "Sometimes Craig is crab, but I still love my job."
A grudging smile crossed the preteen's mouth, and then Sophie continued.
"I would like to work with my languages again someday, but being here is important, too. I am people person and I wish to please, too. It is only hard when Americans think I am stupid because I do not speak perfect English."
"We've treated you that way at times, Sophie. I know we have. And I, for one, am sorry."
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"Thank you, Rita."
Craig and Tory did not add to this, but Sophie could see that she had given them something to think about. After a quick look at the clock, she said, "You are late to school. Should I call or go with you?"
"No," Rita answered. "Craig can explain that he and Tory were held up at home, and I can just check in at the office."
"All right, you better run. I will clear dishes."
Both Rita and Tory hugged Sophie on their way out the door, and as usual Sophie's heart melted a little. Craig didn't touch her but lingered a moment in the open doorway.
"Sophie, do you remember when Melissa was here?"
"Yes, Craig."
"Well," he ducked his head and didn't look at her, "thanks for talking to her."
"Craig!"Rita bellowed from the van, and he bolted before Sophie could say a word. She closed the door after the sound of the van died away, and leaned against it.
It's so strange, Lord. Who would have thought that such a small thing would mean so much to his young heart?
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Sophie watched for Brad's car from her living room window. When she saw him pull to the curb, she swiftly grabbed her purse and hurried down the stairs. He was on the way up the walk when she came around the garage.
"Hello, Brad." She stopped him in mid-stride, and he retraced his steps to meet her on the driveway.
"You came out of nowhere," he joked, so glad to see that she was as lovely tonight as he had dreamedabout all week.
"I live above garage. I work in the house."
She watched his head go up and swing from side to side as he figured it out.
"I see. You clean and such then?"
"Yes, and cook too."
"It's nice to be so close."
"Very nice," Sophie agreed and thought again about how easy it was to talk with him.
"Well, shall we go?"
"Yes. Would you like I drive?"
Brad's head swung around in surprise until the streetlight showed the impish gleam in her eye, and then he laughed. He opened her door then, and Sophie slid inside. She was working on her seat belt when he climbed behind the wheel.
"Do you like Italian food?"
"Yes, very much."
"Or we could have fish. What do you think?"
"Italian sounds wonderful."
"Great. The place is not overly fancy, but the food is good."
And with that they were off. Brad was quite a talker when he got started. As they drove to the restaurant, Sophie learned that he was almost 39, born in New York, and had been in the armed forces after high school. He had been a driving instructor for over ten years. He then began to question Sophie, but he didn't get very far. Sophie was swiftly gaining the impression that she
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was being evaluated on this date, and such thoughts made her reticent to share. He tried to draw her out about her church attendance, living conditions, friends, and future plans, but she put him off very politely without his even being aware of it.
"Where did you live before you came here?" Brad asked, forgetting that she had told him after their first driving lesson. He leaned toward her slightly, waiting to hear the name of some foreign country.
"Chicago."
"Oh." He was stumped for a moment. "Are you from Chicago?"
"No," was all Sophie would answer, and that was when Brad understood that she didn't care for his approach.
"I didn't mean to pry," he said quickly and knew a frisson of fear when she didn't say that he wasn't. Thankfully, they were pulling into the restaurant parking lot, and for the moment they both felt rescued.
It was crowded inside, but Brad put his name in and they settled down to wait. They talked of general things for the next 20 minutes and, when they were finally seated, time was taken up with the menus. Sophie's mouth watered at the selection, and she had a hard time deciding. Brad was almost as bad, and the waiter had to come twice before they were ready.
Brad ordered first, and then listened to Sophie. The Italian names slid easily off her tongue, and when the waiter left he jumped in with both feet.
"You've studied Italian, haven't you?"
"Yes," Sophie admitted.
"I could tell when you ordered. Does someone in your family speak it?"
"Only me," Sophie told him, knowing how curious it must seem.
"That's great! I'm really impressed. I love languages, but I don't have the ear for it. I studied Spanish in school, but I can't seem to roll my r's like I need to."
"I have never studied Spanish, but I think it is beautiful language."
"Yes, it is. We went to Mexico when I was in high school, but we were all so dumbfounded by all we saw that most of us forgot everything we learned. I tried to buy something in the marketplace, and I think I paid the guy double what he was asking."
Sophie laughed at his expression as well as his description.
"Have you been to Italy so you could practice your language?"
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"Yes," Sophie told him simply, but felt deceitful. It was so much more than he imagined. "Actually, I used to use Italian when I work." She didn't want to go into great detail and was momentarily rescued when the drinks, bread sticks, and salad arrived. But before the waiter could even turn his back to their table, Brad was right back at her.
"Was this in Chicago?"
"No, in Czechoslovakia," she finally admitted.
Brad nodded with satisfaction, and
Sophie was tempted to throw a bread stick at him. He was so determined to learn everything about her. In Sophie's mind, he had no right to get so personal so fast.
"That's interesting. What type of job was it?"
"I was a translator." Her voice was distinctly cool, but this was lost on Brad. He plunged on with more questions, but Sophie stuffed a forkful of lettuce in her mouth to avoid answering. When she had taken forever to chew and swallow, she immediately began a dialogue about the food. She couldn't say enough about the salad dressing or the bread sticks. Even the cherry cola was raved over. Brad finally did manage to get in another question, but by then Sophie was chewing on half a bread stick and could only shrug at him and smile with her lips closed.
He caught on at that point and swiftly backed off. His disappointment was keen, but he realized then that he was going to have to come clean with this woman. His next question was completely general, and he watched Sophie relax slightly. He then went on to talk a little more about himself, and her expression became open again. He was so glad to see the Sophie that he'd met the very first day, that he spoke his first spontaneous thought.
"You look very nice tonight, Sophie."
"Thank you," she said softly and smiled. She had opted for her plain navy skirt and a white blouse, but she had dressed it up by putting a brightly colored scarf beneath the collar. The leather navy flats from Gladys made the outfit just right for the occasion.
The entrees arrived just as they were finishing their salads, and Sophie found hers was as good as promised. She had ordered the Taste of Italy, and the lasagna, ravioli, and fettuccine were cooked to perfection. Brad's selection looked good as well, and for the first time conversation was light. Sophie declined dessert at the end, but both she and Brad ordered coffee. It was over their steaming cups that Brad began to share.
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"I'm the only one in my family who has never married," he began, "and I'm second to the oldest. I've looked a long time for a woman who shares my faith-not just my Christianity, but the way I live my Christianity. I thought she might be you, Sophie."
Sophie didn't answer, but her expression was open, so he went on.
"I noticed that you wear skirts, and I like that. I don't think women have any right wearing pants or shorts. I also noticed your lack of makeup. That's another thing I agree with. You also seem capable and hardworking, and I find that, too, is missing in most women today. And, if I can add this without offense, I also find you very attractive."
"Thank you, Brad."
"I know I sound like a real nut in today's immoral world, where Christian values are headed down the drain, but I believe in these things. I could never serve God if my wife didn't act and dress as is fitting before the Lord."
Sophie deeply respected Brad for his honesty and continued to listen attentively. She would take this out-in-the-open dialogue over Brad's subterfuge any day, so her expression was kind and encouraging. In fact, Brad talked over two entire cups of coffee and was still explaining his position when they left the restaurant and pulled up in front of the Riley home. When he was through, they sat silently for a moment. Brad then opened his mouth to ask Sophie out for the next night.
"I will pray, Brad, that you find the girl of your heart."
She had cut him off so gently that he could not find it in his heart to be angry, instead, he quietly asked, "But you don't think you're that girl?"
"No, Brad, I know I am not."
"I take it you think I'm some type of legalistic idiot, like the last girl I took out." Brad's voice held an edge.
"Oh, no, Brad." Sophie's voice was still soft and caring. "I very much respect your view."
"Then why-"
"Because although I respect your view, Brad, I do not share it. If God has laid this belief on your heart, then He will bring you woman who agrees. It would be lie for me to pretend that I do."
He had never met anyone like her. He wanted to beg her to be that girl, but he knew that would never work.
"I appreciate your honesty as well, Sophie."
They looked at each other in the interior light, and Brad's heart ached.
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"I had a very nice time, Brad, and I thank you for asking me."
"Are you sure?" he asked as if he hadn't heard, and this time Sophie gave a small laugh not at him, but at herself.
"I am not what I seem, Brad. I do wear pants, especially if it is cold, and I wear shorts in hot weather." Now she really chuckled. "And the only reason I go without makeup is because I have never taken the time to learn it."
Brad had to laugh as well.
"You will find her, Brad," Sophie now encouraged. "If your belief is from God, I am sure of this."
It was the second time she'd said that.
"You think I'm just following my own belief and not God's."
Sophie cocked her head and looked out the front window. "I am not accuse you of this, Brad. But I have read Scripture much, and I can be honest when I say I stand before God without shame when I wear pants or modest shorts. I am take for granted that you can back your belief with Scripture. If cannot, then is not from God."
"But the Scriptures say that a woman is not to dress in men's clothing."
"This is true, and my pants are not man's. My pants are from women's shop, not men's."
He shook his head sadly as if she could never understand. Sophie saw the motion and placed her hand on his arm.
"Is it not wonderful, Brad, that we have such a personal God? I can answer for myself, and you have your own heart before Him. God is so good, Brad."
His mouth pulled into a smile. The last three women he had had this conversation with had shouted at him and walked away in disgust.
"Are you sure I can't change your mind about things?"
Sophie smiled. "Can I change yours?" She heard him sigh. "Please, Brad, do not lay sin at my door."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, is only thing I worry about-sin against God, not pleasing man, but God. You are look at all us women in pants and say we sin. You cannot make that choice for us."
She could see she had gotten his attention, even though he didn't immediately comment. After a moment, "Would you go out with me if I asked you again, Sophie?"
Her look was regretful. "I do not wish to be interview for wife, Brad. Is not going to work."
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"Nothing like that, Sophie," he assured her honestly. "Just as friends."
Sophie thought a moment and then nodded. "I think it will work, Brad, but depends on you. Do you have understand?"
"Yes, Sophie, I do, and thank you for listening."
Sophie thanked him and climbed from the car. Brad got out as well, and they stood on the sidewalk to talk for a moment before Sophie headed for the stairs, the cold air turning her breath to steam. Brad stayed by the car and saw her lights go on before he moved to leave. Both were in deep thought over all that had been said that evening, and neither one had been aware of the way Alec Riley stood at his bedroom window and watched the scene below.
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Something was 'very wrong, but Sophie could not put herfinger on the problem, nor was she certain that she wanted to. She was running through the field with Katya. They had left school early that day to visit Katya's grandfather's farm, and now they were running across the field to meet him. Had they asked permission? Did her grandmother know where she was? Suddenly Sophie couldn't remember, but their feet were pounding across the hard earth beneath the grasses, and at the moment that was all Sophie could think of.
The pounding finally woke her. Sophie lay in her bed for an instant before she realized the pounding was at her door. Senses returned in a rush. She flung back the covers and grabbed for her robe, all the while asking herself which one of the children was sick. A moment later she threw the door open.
"There's a phone call for you, Sophie." Alec's voice was deep and calm-calmer than he felt. "I think it might be Czechoslovakia."
Sophie came forwa
rd without question, and Alec preceded her. She heard him caution her about the steps, and wondered why she hadn't thought to turn on any of her lights. The steps and pavement were freezing against her bare feet, but Sophie's mind didn't register any of this. The only light burning in the kitchen was over the stove, but again Sophie's mind was not focused. She only saw the phone Alec was holding, and then it was in her hand.
"Hello."
"Hello, my darling." Her grandmother's voice came clearly over the line, and Sophie began to tremble. "I'm sorry to waken you, but I was out of time."
"It's all right. Are you well?"
"You asked for my forgiveness," Kasmira said, ignoring Sophie's question. "Now I will ask for yours in return."
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"You know you have it, my babushka, no matter what." Sophie was barely holding her tears.
"The cancer is back, my Sophie. I'm sorry I didn't tell you."
Sophie gasped with the agony of her grandmother's words. Pain tore through her, robbing her lungs of air.
"When?"
"I was told six weeks ago. They operate in an hour, and it does not look hopeful."
Sophie lost it then, sobbing into the phone for many minutes, while her grandmother whispered prayers and words of encouragement.
"I know this is not what we hoped and prayed for, my Sophie, but it's best because it's God's timing and will."
"You talk like it's already over," Sophie managed.
"No, my darling, but I must listen to the doctor, and he says it's not good. And Sophie, I have missed Vasek so very, very much."
Sophie broke down again, sobs racking her body unmercifully. She didn't think she would ever recover from the pain and tears that rocked her frame, but then she heard the words of Psalm 143 drifting over the line. It was her grandmother's favorite, and God had never failed comfort when they claimed these precious verses.
Hear my prayer,OLord, give ear to my supplications! Answer me in Thy faithfulness, in Thy righteousness! And do not enter into judgment with Thy servant, for in Thy sight no man living is righteous. For the enemy has persecuted my soul; he has crushed my life to the ground; he has made me dwell in dark places, like those who have long been dead. Therefore my spirit is overwhelmed within me; my heart is appalled within me. I remember the days of old; I meditate on all Thy doings; I muse on the work of Thy hands. I stretch out my hands to Thee; my soul longs for Thee, as a parched land. Answer me quickly,OLord, my spirit fails; do not hide Thy face from me, lest I become like those who go down to the pit. Let me heed Thy lovingkindness in the morning; for I trust in Thee; teach me the way in which I should walk; for to Thee I lift up my soul. Deliver me,OLord, from my enemies; I take refuge in Thee. Teach me to do Thy