The Heart of Joy_A Short Story

by Vikki Kestell

  “Oh, yes! I should be delighted to.” Joy turned to Rose in her excitement. “Just think, Mama, Edmund and I are to have our own home.”

  Rose nodded her approval, but her own thoughts had come to a crashing realization.

  Oh, dear. I had not thought that Joy would be leaving Palmer House. She and Grant had lived here . . . but, of course, a similar arrangement will not suit. Joy and her new husband cannot live in the same cottage she and Grant lived in.

  Joy noticed Rose’s frozen smile. “Mama? Is something wrong?”

  “No. No, dear, only that I just realized . . . you will be leaving us. And, of course, that is as it should be.”

  O’Dell glanced from mother to daughter, but kept his silence.

  Joy murmured, “We will be close, Mama. Still here in Denver.”

  “Oh, yes. Certainly. Please do not be concerned. I will adjust, and the Lord will raise up another helper for me.”

  Rose, not wishing to dampen Joy and O’Dell’s happiness, was quick to change the subject. She turned to O’Dell. “Edmund, Tabitha is graduating from nursing school next week. Breona, Joy, and I had planned to attend. Would you care to accompany us to Boulder to celebrate her commencement and fetch her home?”

  “I would be most happy to. Consider my automobile at your disposal.”

  “That would be wonderful. We shall make our arrangements accordingly.”

  Rose turned to Joy. “Now, back to planning your wedding. Where would you like it to be held?”

  Joy glanced at O’Dell before answering. “Here, we think. Our church is lovely, but an old warehouse is not exactly the ideal venue for a wedding nor is it the intimate setting we would prefer. We desire only a simple, sacred ceremony, officiated by Pastor Carmichael and surrounded by our friends and family, right here in the great room of Palmer House.”

  Rose smiled and nodded. “What a lovely idea! I quite agree, and I know all your friends here will decorate the house for you.”

  ~*~

  The next weeks and months sped by. Palmer House’s beloved Tabitha graduated nursing school with the pomp and celebration she deserved. She returned home to Denver and to Palmer House and, mid-summer, took up a position at the Denver hospital.

  Life at Palmer House was again as it should be.

  Over the summer, O’Dell and Joy Rose viewed several houses on the Denver market, but they did not immediately find one that met with their satisfaction.

  “We have time,” O’Dell assured Joy. “We have several months yet.”

  “Yes; I am certain the Lord will lead us to the right one,” Joy replied.

  In the meantime, her shop downtown and his responsibilities with the Pinkertons kept them both busy. The evenings when they could meet grew sweeter as they relaxed into their affianced status and looked forward to their wedding and the start of their married state.

  ~*~

  On the second Saturday in October, after weeks of searching and viewing many houses, O’Dell and Joy found their dream home—a medium-sized, two-story dwelling, sound in structure but in need of repairs. Joy thought the house full of charm and possibility. As an added bonus, the house was located only a half mile from Palmer House.

  “With a little work, it will be perfect, Edmund,” Joy assured him.

  “I agree! And the price is just right. In fact, we shall have a little left over with which to begin the most necessary repairs.”

  They smiled at each other, happy in their prospects, growing in their love for each other.

  “Will you make an offer on it, then?”

  “On Monday. I should like to pray over it first.”

  “I will pray with you, Edmund. It is a big step.”

  O’Dell called for Joy the following morning to drive her to church. He extended an invitation to Rose, too, but she declined.

  “The walk to church with the others each week does me a world of good,” she said, laughing. “And someone must go along with the Palmer House contingency to keep our little ducks in a row, no?”

  She did not mention the times in past years when the girls of Palmer House feared being snatched from their two-by-two ranks by the men from whom they had escaped. Billy was their greatest defense against such threats, but Rose was their fearless captain.

  Eventually all the residents of Palmer House arrived that morning at the old brick warehouse where Calvary Temple met for services. The Palmer House group filled four rows of six seats in the center section of the congregation, and O’Dell was proud to take his place next to Joy, proud to sit beside her, announcing to the world that they were an engaged couple.

  That morning, after thirty minutes of uplifting songs of worship, Pastor Carmichael introduced the head of a Denver orphanage. The man stepped from the congregation where a raft of children of all ages occupied an entire section of old benches, odd chairs, and any seating the church could employ. The orphanage’s director, a Mr. Stephens, spoke with eloquence on the ministry—and needs—of the orphanage.

  “At present, we are housing and educating seventy-two children,” Mr. Stephens told the congregation. “Thanks to God’s grace and your generous donations, we are making the lives of these children bearable and are showing them how much Jesus loves them. God willing, many of our children will find loving, adoptive parents; if they do not, they will grow to adulthood with good educations, prepared to make their own way in the world.”

  Mr. Stephens looked with fondness over the people of Calvary Temple. “We only need a little more help with food, my dear friends. Growing children need good food. If you are able to aid us, I promise that we will put your funds to good use.”

  Joy and O’Dell looked at each other. O’Dell opened his wallet and Joy her purse. They gave what they had with gladness.

  ~*~

  Monday morning, the bell over the door of Michael’s Fine Furnishings jingled, and Joy glanced up to greet a customer. Instead, she saw Edmund O’Dell.

  “Good morning, my darling! I had not expected to see you this morning. Are you on your way to make the offer on our house?”

  In place of a joyous greeting, O’Dell’s brow creased. “Could you spare a minute to talk, Joy? In private?”

  Concerned, Joy nodded. “Of course. Let us go to my office.”

  With the door closed for privacy, O’Dell took Joy’s hands in his. “I must tell you something, Joy, something that may hurt you a bit.”

  Joy blinked in surprise. “What is it, Edmund?”

  “Well, I . . . I felt that the Lord spoke something to my heart, a thing I was to do.”

  “Then, of course, you must do it.”

  “Yes, but it will mean a significant change in our circumstances, Darling.”

  “Oh.” Joy’s heart thumped a little harder. “But, still, if it is what the Holy Spirit is directing you to do . . . Can you not tell me what it is?”

  “Certainly. I will never keep anything from you.” He gathered himself. “You know the orphan children who attend Calvary Temple with us?”

  “Yes.” Joy wondered where O’Dell was going.

  Is he thinking for us to adopt? Is adoption what my father’s blessing portended?

  She was distracted by her thoughts and unprepared for what he said next.

  O’Dell sighed. “Last night, the orphanage’s main dormitory burned to the ground.”

  “No! We had not heard. Oh, dear! What happened? Were any of the children harmed?”

  O’Dell, because of his close connections to Denver law enforcement, often received news before the papers reported it. “I heard from Chief Groves that the furnace malfunctioned. It overheated and caught a joist afire. The workers at the orphanage managed to remove all the children in time, but the fire took the entire dormitory.”

  “I do thank the Lord that there were no injuries—but what will they do? We already know how hard-pressed they are to keep the children in food and clothing.”

  O’Dell sighed again. “Yes, well, that is it . . .”

  J
oy saw “it” in a flash. When I take a bride, I hope to bring her to a house I have already paid for, a house she will be proud to make our home . . . Every spare nickel, dime, and dollar that has crossed my palm has gone into my savings account.

  “The money you have saved for our house?”

  He nodded. “I was on my way to make the offer. My thoughts were preoccupied with one thing: how glad and proud I would be to bring you to our own home when we marry—how happy this house would make us.”

  “And then?”

  “And then while I walked along, it was as though everything about me grew hushed and quiet, as if preparing for a great and momentous announcement. I actually stopped on the sidewalk and stood still.

  “What, Lord? I asked.”

  He took another deep breath. “At once, a Scripture came to mind. I have been studying God’s word on marriage, you see, and had recently read Chapter 10 in the Gospel of Mark. The chapter also contained these verses:

  “And Jesus answered and said,

  Verily I say unto you,

  There is no man that hath left house,

  or brethren, or sisters,

  or father, or mother,

  or wife, or children, or lands,

  for my sake, and the gospel's,

  But he shall receive an hundredfold

  now in this time, houses, and brethren,

  and sisters, and mothers,

  and children, and lands,

  with persecutions;

  and in the world to come

  eternal life.

  “I felt the Lord ask in my spirit, Are you willing to leave your house for me? For my sake and the sake of my gospel? I knew then that he was asking me to give our house money to rebuild the dormitory.”

  Her voice a little tremulous, Joy asked, “And what did you answer?”

  O’Dell looked her full in the face. “I told the Lord that I would do as he asked.”

  Joy said nothing for a long moment. Then she squeezed his hand. “Edmund, we have committed ourselves and our marriage to God. If you had answered the Lord’s request any differently, how could I continue to respect you as the godly man I have come to know? My papa—the man whose walk with the Lord I have admired the most—taught me that when our great God speaks, we must obey.”

  His grip on her hands tightened. “Thank you, Joy, for being the godly woman I fell in love with.”

  After a long moment of reflection, Joy asked, “Where, then, shall we live when we marry?”

  O’Dell took a deep breath. “We shall pray for the Lord to show us a good house to rent. However, we will not always need to rent a house, Joy; there is nothing wrong with owning our own home. This sacrifice will only delay it for a few years.”

  “Yes, Edmund. Wherever we are together will be home to me.”

  They embraced, and Joy was not ashamed of the few tears she shed as she released to the God of Grace the perfect house that was to have been their home.

  I give you everything, Lord, she prayed against O’Dell’s shoulder. All over again, I give you everything—everything! And how I thank you for this man I can trust to faithfully follow you.

  ~*~

  “Where would you like these boxes, Miss Joy?” Billy asked. His arms held three crates—balanced precariously atop each other.

  Joy came back to the present with a start. Inhaling the scent of spruce once more, she smiled and studied the boxes Billy carried. Joy knew what the boxes contained—shiny, glimmering ornaments, tree trimmings, and the wonderful and novel electric lights Martha Palmer had gifted to Palmer House a few Christmases ago.

  Mr. Wheatley appeared behind Billy with two smaller boxes. One of the two boxes contained the manger scene so precious to them all.

  As Joy’s grin widened, Billy grinned back.

  “It is good to see you happy again, Miss Joy.”

  “Thank you. It is good to feel alive . . . after so long.”

  “Our boys are nearly beside themselves in anticipation of Christmas morning,” he told her.

  “I quite understand. Will you place the boxes on the floor under the windows?”

  Billy and Mr. Wheatley stacked their burdens along the wall as Joy had directed and left to bring down another load.

  Joy perused the crates, looking for the one that held the crèche. She saw it, shifted one carton aside, took her prize to the sofa, and placed it on the low table before her.

  Billy and Mr. Wheatley eventually returned with the remaining decorations. Billy picked up a small claw hammer.

  “Would you like me to open them for you?”

  “Yes, please. Could you start with this one?”

  Billy slid the hammer’s claw under one end of the lid and pried it open. Seconds later, he removed the tacked-on lid.

  Joy spied the manger scene within the straw padding inside the box. With care, she lifted the many swaddled pieces out one by one, unwrapped them, and set them on the table. Last of all came the manger itself.

  Joy picked up the tiny infant Jesus and held it. This will be my last Christmas at Palmer House. Next year Edmund and I will be decorating our own home for Christmas . . . and perhaps we will be expecting a little one ourselves?

  She sighed and squeezed her eyes closed. O Lord! I thank you for bringing me out of the darkness of grief and into the light of a new love and hope. Truly, there is a time and a season for everything.

  ~~**~~

  Chapter 8

  Christmas—with all its delight and celebration—was over. Joy and O’Dell’s wedding was mere days away. They were to be married the Sunday afternoon following New Year’s Day after church services.

  Early Saturday, the girls of Palmer House, led by Breona and aided by Billy and Mr. Wheatley, cleared away the Christmas greenery and threw themselves into a scrupulous cleaning of the first floor. The busy workgroup removed drapes, trudged through the January snow, shook the drapes, and hung them on the frigid clotheslines to air. They dusted walls and ceilings and scrubbed mantels and hearths.

  Billy and Mr. Wheatley rolled and removed carpets, taking them out-of-doors for a thorough beating. Once the carpets were out of the way, the women swept and cleaned the floors, waxing the hardwood planks and rubbing them until their arms ached and the wood glowed.

  They cleaned the gaslight fixtures and wiped their globes; they washed every window until the glass gleamed and met with Breona’s approval. They polished furniture and rehung the drapes. Finally, they festooned the windows, walls, and doorways with the costly greens and hothouse flowers Martha Palmer had insisted upon ordering and sending to them.

  The girls stood back, admiring their combined efforts and breathing in the lily-perfumed air.

  “It will be so beautiful for them,” Sarah smiled.

  “Aye. That it will.” It was all Breona could muster. With the corner of her apron, she dabbed at her eyes.

  ~*~

  Later the same day, under a bright winter sun, Joy and O’Dell drove to Riverside Cemetery. Their closest friends met them there.

  Together, Joy and O’Dell placed a garland of flowers upon the simple grave of Grant Michaels. Joy wept unabashedly—tears of sorrow but tears of healing, too.

  When she placed her hand upon Grant’s headstone, O’Dell, with his hand covering Joy’s, whispered, “Grant, my dearest friend, you already know that I am doing my best to fulfill my promises to you. Joy and I will stand before God tomorrow and make our solemn vows of marriage, but we do not forget you . . . and we do not forget Edmund. When we find your sweet boy, I will fulfill my pledge to you to raise him as my own.”

  ~*~

  On the drive back to Palmer House, O’Dell squeezed Joy’s hand. “Tomorrow you shall be my wife—Joy Thoresen O’Dell. I am beyond happy, my love.”

  “As am I, Edmund.”

  “And you are satisfied with the little cottage I have rented to begin our married life?”

  Joy smiled. “I am satisfied that, wherever I lay my head, yours will be on the pillow
next to mine.”

  “You are perfect, Joy.”

  “No, Edmund, only our great God is perfect. I am content to live within his perfect love and care.”

  O’Dell’s grin grew larger. “Like I said. You are perfect.”

  ~*~

  Sunday afternoon, January 3, 1915, Joy and Edmund O’Dell came together in the great room of Palmer House and joined right hands. Rose stood with her daughter, and Mr. Wheatley stood with O’Dell. The room overflowed with their family and friends.

  Into the holy hush, Isaac Carmichael placed one hand upon their joined hands and blessed them. “Edmund and Joy, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Therefore, what God has joined together, let no man put asunder.”

  ~~**~~

  Postscript

  Christmas 1917

  Rose slipped from O’Dell and Joy’s bedroom into the hall and walked the short distance to the little living room of their rented house. She found her son-in-law sitting on the sofa, his arms propped upon his legs, his face on his hands.

  Where he had been for eight hours.

  “Edmund.”

  O’Dell’s chin snapped up.

  “Edmund, you may come in, now,” Rose beckoned O’Dell toward the bedroom.

  O’Dell stood and was surprised at how shaky his legs were. I have faced off with the worst kinds of criminals, confronted death a number of times, yet I am undone by this common event?

  But there was nothing common about the life and wellbeing of his precious wife.

  “Is Joy all right? Is the baby here at last?”

  “Come see for yourself.”

  O’Dell stumbled after Rose and followed her into the bedroom. Dr. Murphy, standing at the bedside, beamed at him, but said nothing. He and Rose tiptoed from the room, leaving O’Dell alone with Joy.