His pure tenor voice captivated her, and his emotion moved her to where she could barely articulate the words herself:
In the cross of Christ I glory, towering o’er the wrecks of time;
All the light of sacred story gathers round its head sublime.
When the woes of life o’ertake me, hopes deceive and fears annoy,
Never shall the cross forsake me; Lo! It glows with peace and joy.
When the sun of bliss is beaming light and love upon my way,
From the cross the radiance streaming adds more luster to the day.
Bane and blessing, pain, and pleasure, by the cross are sanctified;
Peace is there that knows no measure, joys that through all time abide.
Lurching toward her graduation from Three Rivers High School, set for Saturday, June 8, 1918, Elisabeth found it difficult to focus on her many duties. She maintained her schedule and her disciplines, but everything seemed futile. The only bright spot in her life had come in the middle of May when Mrs. Phillips responded to her graduation announcement and invitation to the ceremony with the surprise news that she and her husband planned to come. “What an appropriate occasion to meet our future daughter-in-law,” she wrote. “My husband and I shall handle all our own arrangements so you need not worry after us, and we look forward to it with great anticipation.”
Friday, May 31, Will picked her up from Snyder’s after work and said, “I have good news.”
“That I could use,” she said wearily. “Tell me it’s a letter from Ben.”
“It is.”
“Don’t tease me, Will.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“You’re serious? Did you bring it?”
“I thought you’d want to read it by yourself.”
His blasted kindness and consideration! Of course he was right. It had been so long since she had heard from Ben, she believed she could jump out and run and beat Will home. Alone in her room minutes later, she tore open the envelope, crying before she could unfold the page. The letter was dated May 16, fifteen days before.
Dearest Elisabeth,
How could you have referred to me as your fiancé in a letter to no less than the War Department itself? Don’t you know that puts me in a different category here—special treatment and all the rest—which I definitely do not want? The engagement was announced to my company, which has hazed me mercilessly. I thought we had agreed to say nothing to anyone. You sure chose the wrong target!
Part of me is thrilled that so many here know, but I suppose it’s futile to expect the news won’t sweep through our families and friends in the States. I feel such a fool, having given no token of my pledge and now having the world know I put you in the untenable position of promising yourself to a soldier overseas.
Make no mistake, I am more committed to you and our future than ever, and I want the ring bestowed and the ceremony accomplished within a week of my return, if you’ll still have me. I wish I knew where your mind and heart were, because I have received no communication from you and can’t know whether you have received mine. No one here has heard from home, so I take some comfort that I am not alone. I am anticipating a sack of mail when it finally comes. If nothing else, your gaffe with Washington tells me how you view me. Officially or not, you call me your fiancé.
Things are heating up here, and as you don’t know where I’m writing from I can tell you that some resolution—at least as it relates to U.S. troops—should be forthcoming within a month.
Loving you and missing you,
your devoted Ben.
How she loved him! It hurt to be scolded, especially when she only had his best interest in mind. She folded the letter and kept it with her, peeking at it several times that evening. Will did not ask to see it, though he did ask if all was well.
“Better than well. Ben’s fine!”
“I’m glad for you,” he said. “Any idea where he is?”
“None.”
“There was something in the paper today about the first American offensive of the war.”
“He predicted that! Let me see it.”
“There were casualties, Elspeth.”
“How many?”
“It doesn’t say.”
He handed her the paper and she read of the May 28 action. General Pershing delivered reinforcements to the French on the Marne, while fifty miles to the northwest in Cantigny, American troops were successful against the veteran Eighteenth Army. The U.S. reported light casualties in both operations.
So it had begun. Elisabeth couldn’t guess where Ben might be, but what were the odds he was in on the first two U.S. offensives in France? And if so, was he safe? The paper told of a massive buildup of both German troops and U.S.-supported Allied troops along the Marne. Elisabeth wished she hadn’t read it. The letter had assuaged her fear, but now she would worry all the more.
“Mother kept a plate warm for you on the stove, Elspeth.”
“Thanks. What did you have?”
“I don’t know. I’m eating late tonight.”
“Really?”
“Just going out.”
“Got a date?” Elisabeth asked, teasing.
She froze when he nodded. “Lucy from church.”
“Lucy?” Elisabeth said unnecessarily. A pretty sophomore who wore glasses. “Why, uh, why so late?”
“I didn’t want you to have to walk home is all. She didn’t mind. She understands I’m kinda watching out for you. We’re just going to have the special over at Three Rivers House. Better get going.”
“Have a nice time.”
Elisabeth walked stiff-legged to the kitchen and found her meal, which she only picked at. What was wrong with her? She was engaged, soon to be a high school graduate, then to marry as soon as her fiancé returned from the war. She didn’t love Will Bishop, had no claim whatever on him, and didn’t deserve one if she’d wanted it. She couldn’t be jealous of Lucy. Yet she was. Flat jealous and wallowing in it.
She trudged upstairs to her room, tried to pray, tried to read her Bible, tried to write a letter. Finally, she gave up on it all and collapsed into bed. It was not late enough for sleep, but she slept anyway, for lack of anything else that made her feel anything but terrible.
I’m a rotten, awful person, she told herself. I can’t have what I want and I don’t want what I have.
On the Friday afternoon before graduation, Will asked if she minded if Lucy rode with them the next day.
“Oh, Will,” she said, “that wouldn’t be fair to Lucy. I’ll find a way. If the Phillipses get into town early, I may go with them.”
“But what if they don’t? Anyway, you don’t want to invite yourself along, especially with your future in-laws. It’ll be okay. Lucy understands.”
If Lucy were anything like Will, she probably would be bigger about the situation than Elisabeth would. It was too far to walk and too late to arrange for a ride with anyone else.
That night a light tap on her door awakened Elisabeth. “Don’t open, Elspeth,” Will said. “I’m just slipping a message under the door. The Phillipses phoned you at Snyder’s, and the delivery boy brought a note.”
Elisabeth flipped on the light and squinted against the brightness. I hope they’re still coming, she thought.
The note read, “E. L., a Mrs. Phillips called and said she was sorry she missed you and to tell you they were still coming regardless. They’ll see you after. A.W.S.”
Regardless, she thought. Regardless the weather? Regardless what? She was glad she had not counted on them for a ride.
By noon the next day, as most of Three Rivers readied itself for the graduation ceremonies, word spread that the war had taken a dramatic turn in favor of the Allies, due in large part to U.S. efforts. A major German offensive had been thwarted and pushed back, and while it might take months to accomplish, the momentum had shifted and it seemed certain Germany would be defeated.
To Elisabeth the whole town seemed optimistic about the safe return of m
any young men, so graduation would be more festive than ever. The male graduates likely need not worry about their draft status, despite the Selective Service Act.
Elisabeth watched for signs of affection between Will and Lucy during the crowded ride. She saw nothing and scolded herself for caring. Worrying about Will Bishop’s love life was far from where she ought to be by now in her spiritual life.
She won several class awards, including the plaque for the student most inspirational to classmates as an example of a dedicated scholar. She nearly burst with pride for Will, who looked terribly embarrassed to win both Most Improved Student and the Accounting Club award.
Elisabeth scanned the crowd for the Phillipses, wondering if she would recognize them by seeing Ben in their features. Many students had out-of-town guests and relatives, however, so she quickly gave up. His parents would know who she was because she had been announced several times even before being presented with her diploma.
After the students tossed their caps, signed each other’s annuals, tearfully embraced, and posed for photographs, Elisabeth told Will she had a way home and that she would see him later. As he walked off with Lucy, she carrying some of his stuff but neither showing more than appropriate familiarity, Elisabeth decided meeting her future inlaws would cap a fairly happy day.
A couple older than she expected stepped in behind Pastor and Mrs. Hill as they shook her hand and congratulated her. “That inspirational award has gone to someone from Christ Church for six years running,” the pastor said. “Congratulations and thanks for keeping it in the family.”
“Oh, Jack,” his wife said. “Let’s not boast. It was Elisabeth who won it.”
As the Hills greeted other graduates, the couple approached. He was dressed in clerical garb, she in a long, black dress. Their faces were drawn, their eyes red. Elisabeth stepped gracefully through formal introductions but found it disconcerting that Mr. Phillips seemed so serious and his wife had an accusatory tone reminiscent of Aunt Agatha.
“This has been quite a day for you,” the woman said. Perhaps she was one who believed too much attention only swelled a young person’s head.
“Thank you. I’m humbled.” Elisabeth couldn’t keep from smiling. She wished they could share her joy.
“You seem to be holding up remarkably well.”
“Well, it’s not easy, Mrs. Phillips, as you know. But this has been a wonderful day. I’m sure you’ve heard the good news from the front.”
“We heard,” Mr. Phillips said, shoulders slumped. “A day late and a dollar short.”
“I understand there’s reason to be optimistic,” Elisabeth said, determined not to let them spoil the moment. “Anyway, it makes my day to meet you both. Ben speaks so highly of you.”
Mrs. Phillips stared at her. “You say that in the present tense.”
“Well, he has and he will. I heard from him a week or so ago. The letter was a couple of weeks old, but—”
The Phillipses looked at each other, and Ben’s mother interrupted. “You haven’t heard from the War Department?”
“Oh, yes. Some time ago. Ben was none too pleased that I spilled the beans …”
Mrs. Phillips disintegrated into tears, quickly finding a chair where her husband knelt next to her, gathering her in and glaring at Elisabeth. “We didn’t bring the letter,” he said. “We assumed they had copied you. We knew all about the fiancé business, but they must have found out the engagement was not official if they didn’t communicate with you directly.”
“But they did. I got a telegram. That’s what upset Ben so. He—”
“You’ve not heard that Ben was lost at sea.”
“That he was what?”
“We thought you knew. We called you last night.”
“What are you saying?”
“His transport ship sank. Only six survivors, all officers.”
Elisabeth found herself on her hands and knees, her head spinning. People came running. She was helped to a chair, fanned, and given water. Nothing helped. The shock, the grief, the horror of it hit her like a sledge, and she could not catch her breath. She had so many questions. This couldn’t be! She must have seemed so callous to the Phillipses.
“In a way, I’m glad,” someone said. Elisabeth looked up with a start at such a ridiculous comment. It was Ben’s mother. “I’m just saying, dear, that it was probably for the best that you didn’t know before your big day.”
My big day? Elisabeth thought. Her big days, from the day she was born and lost her mother, all carried horrible memories. She felt cursed.
Elisabeth fought to regulate her breathing. This was too much to take.
“Coming today has been more difficult than we imagined,” Mr. Phillips said, “and was probably ill-advised. We’d like to get back directly. May we drop you somewhere?”
“I’ll take her,” Pastor Hill said. “As soon as she’s ready.”
He stepped back so she and Ben’s parents could say their good-byes.
“I don’t know what to say,” she said.
“If you loved him like we do,” Mr. Phillips said, “you know how we are suffering.”
“It’s such a loss to the church, to the world.”
“We try not to think about that,” Ben’s mother said. “The loss is deep enough in our own hearts.”
“I know.”
“We’re sorry,” she added, “that we had to be the ones to tell you.”
Elisabeth waved her off. “May I ask, ah, no—I’m sorry.”
“No, please.”
“Have they found him? Will they—”
“Ship him back?” Mr. Phillips said. “They make no promises. We will have a memorial service next week, to which you are invited.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Elisabeth said, feeling faint again.
“We would be honored,” Mrs. Phillips said.
“Then I will be there.”
Pastor Hill drove slowly and his wife sat in the back, cradling Elisabeth as she wept. “Poor child,” she repeated. “Too much, too young.”
“Will you be all right?” the pastor asked as he walked her to the door.
She meant to nod but wasn’t sure she had. “Is this what you meant by the fellowship of his sufferings? Is this all there is to the committed Christian life? Just tragedy and disappointment?”
“Not all, but let’s be careful to blame this neither on God nor on your commitment. That ascribes evil to him and too much power to you. Satan is the author of death. God is sovereign. That is a difficult truth right now, but rest in it during the dark night of the soul.”
Elisabeth nodded, desperate to be free of the overwhelming sense of evil that surrounded tragedy.
“If we don’t see you in church tomorrow, we’ll understand. But if you find yourself up to it, you’ll be surrounded by love and care.”
“Would you do me a favor?” she said. “If you say anything—”
“I will announce it, of course.”
“Would you make clear that the man I lost was my fiancé, the love of my life. It was our secret, but I want it known.”
The pastor hesitated, looking down. “You don’t think that might open him to criticism for—”
“Maybe,” she said. “But I want no question that we were committed to each other forever.”
As she made her way inside, Elisabeth felt the eyes of everyone in the household. No one said anything, but all—even the children—looked at her with pity. She stopped on her way upstairs, put her hand on the railing, and turned to face them. They looked away, everybody but Will, whose liquid eyes locked onto hers.
“I’m all right,” she said quietly. “Thank you for caring.”
Her Bible lay open on the bed stand. She ignored it, locked her door, and undressed. Despite the warmth of the evening, she put on a flannel nightgown. As she approached the bed, her legs gave out and she tumbled to the floor. She wept bitterly, careful not to be heard, worried that the sound of her fall would concern the family.
Elisabeth crawled into bed and curled into a fetal position. “God,” she prayed silently, “I don’t understand this. I don’t like it. And I don’t know where you are right now. If this is your answer about whether I am free to marry Ben, I’m sorry I asked.”
She heard footsteps on the stairs and held her breath. Someone approached the door, the floor creaking. There was no knock. The steps retreated to the stairs, but there was no sound of descent. Elisabeth lay waiting. Nothing. She was exhausted, but would not sleep this night.
She crept to the door and put her ear near it. Still no sound. She carefully unlocked the door and turned the knob, opening it an inch. In the darkness of the hall, silhouetted against the streetlight outside, sat Will on the landing, his back to her.
“I’m all right,” she whispered.
He didn’t turn.
“Get some sleep, Will,” she added.
He nodded but did not move. Elisabeth pulled her robe from a hook on the back of the door and moved to the stairs. She sat next to Will on the top step. His chin was buried in his hands and he stared out the window, tears on his cheeks.
She could barely speak. “Thanks for caring so much.”
He drew in a labored breath, covered his eyes, and sobbed quietly. She reached to comfort him with a light touch on his heaving shoulders. He wept for her, which made her weep for him. And there they sat, supporting each other in a moment of pain and grief so deep that Elisabeth could not imagine living through it. Without a true friend like Will, how could she?
She left her hand on his shoulder until his sobs subsided, then sat with him the better part of an hour. Twice she told him, “Go now. Get your rest.” But he did not move.
Finally she said, “I’d better get to bed,” and he nodded, still not moving, not looking at her. She returned to her room. Every hour or so she rose and peeked out to see Will still there. By the wee hours he was dozing with his head against the railing. At dawn he was on his back on the landing, his legs extending down the stairs. She tiptoed out and covered him with a comforter, lifting his head and slipping a pillow beneath.
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