Her pulse raced as she breathed in the virile fragrance of the man she had so swiftly taken into her heart. The man she had finally revealed in letters to her parents. Everything about him soothed her being, so much so that even his first words didn’t manage to raise any red flags.
“Shillong? Six weeks...just the two of us...in Shillong?” Dorothy grew breathless at the prospect. A vacation was always welcome, but this! This sounded more grand than even a honeymoon.
“Shillong?”
Fred laughed. He still held her close, and in truth had allowed little daylight between them. Now he was proposing they take advantage of a free holiday in one of the most loved resort hotels in the district.
“Tell me how!” she begged, pummeling his chest when he teased her by not answering.
He chuckled.
“The Tuttles do live there, you know, silly goose, or have you forgotten? Their friend owns the hotel, and the hotel has a guest house, and the guest house usually has a resident. But now they find that their tenant will be in Europe for two months and they’ve offered it to us. Or rather, the Tuttles asked them to offer it to us. So don’t you see? They’ve given it to us for six of the eight weeks. Free and clear. If we want it.”
“If we want it? You foolish boy! Of course we want it! When?”
“Well, that’s just the thing.”
Fred became tongue-tied, a condition that set Dorothy tingling with apprehension.
“Tell me now or off you go, Mr. Chambers. You may not have noticed but I’m dying of curiosity here. So when is it? Hm? When!”
“That’s just the thing, darling girl,” he said, practically shuffling like a schoolboy.
“Out with it, Buster Brown.”
“Well. It’s, um, that is, we’re to have it from July first through August twelfth.”
Dorothy’s heart sank. It had seemed such a wonderfully honeymoon-like prospect.
“Oh.” She tried to brighten her tone, but knew he’d not missed her deflating emotion. July of next year was such a terribly long time to wait.
“I know, darling,” he said, “it’s rushing things a bit.”
She raised her eyes. “Wait. What did you say? I mean why? Why would that be rushing things?”
Was he having second thoughts? Did he want to put off their wedding?
Fred looked taken aback. “Well,” he stammered, “it’s already mid-June and July will be upon us before we know it.”
Now Dorothy sprang away from his arms. “You mean this July? Now? Two weeks from now? That would be terrible!”
“Why? I...I don’t understand.”
“Oh, Fred, there we would be in paradise for six whole weeks! In separate rooms! With a chaperone every time we wanted to go somewhere. It would be absolutely horrid!”
Fred stepped close and gathered her once again into his arms. He tucked a loose curl behind her ear and tweaked her nose.
“It wouldn’t be that horrible, darling girl. And we wouldn’t really need a chaperone.”
He drew her closer and locked eyes with her.
“Not if we were married.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
TUESDAY JUNE 30, 1936
THE WEDDING
June 21, 1936
I know that I have probably knocked the breath out of you several times already, and may do it again this time.
There is a possibility—quite a possibility in fact, that we will be married—don’t faint—about July 1st before going to Shillong, and then have the four or five weeks in Shillong as a honeymoon.
I know that it sounds awfully speedy, (but think that Wink at any rate will understand) but there are lots of things to be said for it. If we don’t do it then, we can’t do it until November, and then Fred would have a hard time to get away for very much, as October and November are going to be full because of Dr. Howard’s (N.Y. board) being here in Assam, the Conference (of which Fred is president), school work, etc.
It will mean of course that I will have to stay on down here until about the first of November or until after conference as the hospital can’t be left without someone here, and Alice is not due back normally until then.
Have talked it over with the Tuttles, and they think that perhaps it is the best thing to do. They are for it. If we do it, it will be a very simple wedding, probably here at the bungalow, although the details are not settled yet. The Tuttles are the nearest thing to family that I have out here, and I think so much of them.
How I would love to have you all here, but have a scheme up my sleeve that might work so that it would let you in on a bit of it. I wish so much that you knew Fred, but you will one of these days.
It was breathtaking how it happened, how five fateful words changed the course of Dorothy’s days like nothing either she or Fred could have anticipated.
Not if we were married.
Dorothy’s letters flew home as quickly as they could, but at best it would be several weeks before she received replies from her family. By then she’d be a married woman. How dearly she wanted their blessing.
The days seemed interminable, and yet they passed in the blink of an eye, packed with wedding preparations, good wishes, but no letters from home. At least none that came in reply to her bombshell announcement.
Still, with all the magic which these occasions of the heart can engender, the ten days melted away and Dorothy found herself on the brink of the most important day of her life.
. . . .
It was like no other day Dorothy had ever lived and breathed through. Even her lungs seemed confused, sending up long, happy sighs followed by quick, short, panicked puffs.
She was getting married today. It was the most deliriously scary proposition to which she’d ever set her mind. The scattered heaps of Cecile Bruner roses had taken shape exactly as she’d imagined them, transformed from random blossoms on an over-burdened bush into her beautifully delicate bridal bouquet. Her newly fashioned white satin gown sat perfectly on her shoulders, weighted there by the glittering clasps she’d repurposed at the last moment. Her Renaissance-style silver girdle dropped like a low belt to gather in the dress just below her waist. It seemed an anchor, tethering her to this place lest she float into the sky which undoubtedly was populated today by clouds of pink.
In moments she would walk out into the gathering room, stand among her dearest friends, and pledge her heart to—
“Dorothy! Psst! Dorothy!”
Dorothy turned half around, just in time to see Millie’s hand slip through the cracked open door, waving to beckon her closer.
“Come!”
“But it’s not—”
“Shh!” Millie pressed a finger to her lips and caught Dorothy’s hand in her own. “I know it’s bad luck but we’re going to do it anyway!”
By the time her cryptic words were uttered, Millie had whisked Dorothy to the back verandah. They stepped soundlessly through the screened door and Dorothy felt Millie’s hand urge her forward. As her foot touched the planked step she sensed his presence and looked up.
Fred stepped away from the overgrown shrubbery and faced her. His eyes caught and held her own, and the love and confidence she saw there calmed her heart in a way nothing else could. He stood there in his dashing tuxedo with his hand extended toward her, good and solid and everything upon which she could trust her future.
Her lips moved, and his replied, but their meaning was conveyed more fully on their faces. So fully, that it seemed eons of understanding were exchanged in that fleeting moment before Millie whisked her back into the bungla.
With each retreating step, Dorothy’s heart calmed and her shoulders lifted. Everything she’d accomplished in her life had led her to this moment, to this place where she could finally embrace the precious things God had in store for her. And it was His words that carried her forward into the ceremony.
All these things shall be added unto you. These were the words that sang in her heart as she too
k her place beside Fred. Before God.
Seek ye first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you. Matthew 6:33
All these things for which she had prayed so fervently. A good husband, a kind and gentle companion, a helpmate, someone to share her innermost private thoughts and needs, to champion her causes, to give her children and to father them in the most charitable, uplifting manner.
For these, God had given her Fred.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
BE STILL MY HEART
July 6, 1936 Shillong, Assam.
Fred’s letter home
Have not come down to earth yet but trust I am sufficiently rational to share something of the experiences of the last few days with you.
Life has held some rich experiences but there has been nothing to compare with the sheer joy of these last few days. If Heaven can be any sweeter, then it will be almost unbearable.
My very soul feels as if it would burst at times for the thrill and deep joy of it all and even prayer seems inadequate to give expression to my gratitude.
It is some satisfaction to know that the Lord does understand my heart and can know the thanksgiving that is there for it all.
July 7, 1936
Dorothy’s letter home
Dearest Mother and Dad:
There is so much that I want to tell you both, and it would be so nice if we could just have a grand visit instead of trying to put everything down on paper. Somehow, when it is down on paper, things sound so rather flat, when in reality they are anything but that. I wish so much that I could have let you know earlier so that you could have shared more of the joy and anticipation with us, but things happened in such a rush at the last. I really hadn’t dreamed of being married until after Alice [Dr. Alice Randall] returned, until just about ten days before the wedding took place. Everything seemed to work together, and in such a marvelous way, that I haven’t a doubt in the world that what we did was the absolutely right thing to have done.
When Fred first suggested it, that we be married before coming to Shillong, I found myself in such a whirl that I scarcely knew which way I was going. The more I thought about it, the more logical and reasonable it sounded, and when he arrived on the afternoon of the 26th (18 hours ahead of the time that I had expected him) and we had a chance to see each other for a little while, we both knew that it was the right thing to do.
The Tuttles have been so lovely to both of us—it has been more as though we belonged to the family. Certainly, they couldn’t have been any lovelier had we been their own son and daughter.
Fred and I haven’t known each other for a long time, and it is absolutely miraculous the way things have worked out. Last August I spent two weekends in Shillong with the Forbes and Wickstrands, and Fred was staying with them. They were delightful weekends, full of delightful fellowship with the whole group.
We discovered then that we had several things in common, particularly as regarded friends. The fact that he had taught at Denison, had been in student pastoral work in Boulder for two years (the succeeding two years after I left Boulder), that we had received our degrees at the same time from the same platform, all gave us a basis for discovering mutual friends. He knew the Sutherlands well there in Boulder among others.
At that time he was having some nose and throat trouble and had been to Calcutta for some help. The doctor there recommended certain treatments twice weekly, and unless they could be had in Assam, he would have had to spend his vacation in Calcutta. The result was that he decided to risk having me do them.
I saw him only once between then and the Centennial, and that was for just a moment. The only letters that we wrote were more or less business letters. It wasn’t until he came down for some x-rays early this spring that we began to write occasionally, and not until about the middle of May after he had been down in the hospital, that we really began to write letters and began to discover each other.
I wish that it were possible to convey in a mere letter all that has gone into and come out of the happenings of the past few weeks. I told you in a previous letter that before I left home to return to Assam this time, that I had a very real conviction that there was something besides the hospital work awaiting me, and knew that it was part of a Plan about which I knew little at the time.
All I was sure of was that the next step was to return to Assam. I was so sure of it that I didn’t even feel the desire to question it, altho at the time just what was involved, where it might lead, etc., was absolutely unknown. This conviction grew out of an experience that I had while reading one night near the end of my stay in New York City—I was reading the sixth Chapter of Matthew and the 32nd and 33rd verses seemed to stand out in a way that I couldn’t misinterpret. [32 For after all these things the Gentiles seek. For your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. 33 But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you.]
A short time ago, when I found that this passage meant a very great deal to Fred, it seemed that the things that had been working together, couldn’t have just happened.
I used to think that I was rather a self sufficient person, and rather more than ordinarily reserved—largely due to the work that I was in, I guess—but all that seems to have dissolved into a thin mist, and I find that I am no longer able to run on my own, but am very dependent on another.
I used to wonder that some people seemed to lose themselves so completely when they fell in love, but I don’t wonder any more. I am so absolutely head over heels in love with Fred, and it is such an overwhelming love that I am absolutely powerless against it. (Even if I wanted to be, I couldn’t help it). I have never known anything like it, and never even dreamed that such a thing could happen or be.
I had been pretty sure in my own heart and mind as to how I felt before I saw Fred last Friday, a week ago, but after seeing him, there wasn’t the slightest chance for a doubt, and there hasn’t been since.
Surely if marriages are made in Heaven, ours was. It is as though each of us had always known the other, and had a complete understanding of that one. I can’t get over the wonder of it all and in the week that we have been married, it has been increasingly wonderful—the naturalness of our feeling toward each other, the completeness of our understanding, and the sense that it’s all a part of a Plan have all grown daily, and our love for each other gets deeper and more wonderful every hour.
How I wish that you could know Fred now—you will before so very long, but I so covet your knowing and loving him now. You won’t be able to help loving him, I know, and I know that Dad will revel in his fellowship, and Fred in Dad’s. He is so fine, so clean, and so altogether lovable—and to think he is mine leaves me absolutely breathless. We should love to have had Dad perform the marriage ceremony for us, and did so long for you all at the time. I am so glad that Dad and Dr. Tuttle know each other so well.
The marriage service was exquisitely lovely and both Fred and I felt it very very keenly, and neither of us has been able to get away from the beauty and solemnity of it.
The weather in Gauhati had been desperately hot for days before, and the wedding day was no exception. Both Fred and I had to stand before electric fans to try and keep dry before the ceremony, and we were almost panicky when the fans all over the bungalow suddenly went off and stayed off for about five minutes.
Have been grateful to Marie for her suggestion regarding the ring for Fred. Had wondered just how I could get a ring, as there wasn’t time to send to Calcutta for one, and the one that we had made by the Assamese goldsmith is lovely, and is unique in that it was made especially for him by an Indian workman in the country where our work lies. Fred’s ring to me is an exquisite diamond circlet, and I find myself continually trying to fathom the tremendous waves of emotion that it sets up in my heart and soul.
The past few weeks have been very, very rich in their spiritual effect upon me. Never before have I be
en as conscious of the unquestionable rightness of anything as I am of the knowledge that our marriage is part of a Plan that God has for us, and the conviction that together we can work for the Kingdom as we never could have worked alone.
I know that this letter doesn’t begin to tell you all that I want you to know, but I just can’t seem to get down to earth to put things on paper as they should be. We are longing to get mail from you all after you received the cable, and are looking forward to the last of the month for that reason especially.
I think of you both so often, long to see and talk with you, and love you so much.
Dor
CHAPTER NINETEEN
TO LOVE AND TO CHERISH
July 7, 1936 — Shillong
Letter from Mr. and Mrs. Tuttle
to Dorothy’s parents
I must say at the beginning that we heartily approve of this union, that we are very happy over it and that it is a great joy to have the children with us during these weeks in Shillong. And they—well, they are absolutely satisfied that they have been divinely led, they are thoroughly in love, completely happy.
We are going to miss Dorothy most dreadfully in Gauhati. She has done such a great piece of work there and made such a fine name for herself. And won the love of everybody.
But because of this we feel that she has earned the right—if a lovely girl needs to earn the right—to give up her profession and take over the happy task of being a home-maker, a wife, and we hope the mother of children. I am sure that her Indian friends will feel that she is merely adding the cap-sheaf to all of the other fine things that she has done by taking this step.
So we give her up gladly to the new life. And you’d almost be surprised to see how completely she has lost herself in this new love. Fred is a fortunate man and he knows it and he is quite humble over it.
Still and all, he is mighty nice too, is Fred! So Dorothy has some reason to be happy. Yes, quite considerable reason!!
July 8, 1936
Letter from Marie Holmes to Dorothy’s parents
Courage in a White Coat Page 12