by Janette Oke
“I’ve been thinking about it,” Christine admitted. “If I did find something here, I could stay involved with the service work.”
Christine was feeling that what she was doing with the young recruits was beginning to have significant meaning. She believed she had found her niche in the war effort. By helping to prepare and fortify those who might end up in action, she was doing her part. Perhaps not in actual defense, but in speaking with the young men and women—those who would in the future be defending freedom—of the need for a personal faith in God. Eternal life was of even greater importance than temporary physical life. Christine believed that with all her heart.
There were plans in the making to start a second center. And talk of hiring a full-time chaplain to oversee the program. Ministers from various churches of the city had been donating what time they could afford. With a chaplain dedicated to the work, much more could be accomplished. The city churches would go together to pay the man’s salary. It sounded like a wonderful idea to Christine.
“The work you are doing is so important,” Aunt Mary was continuing. “I’m anxious to get back to my ladies’ group to start filling CARE boxes again. I’ve missed being involved.”
“Well, you have been able to take up your knitting,” Christine reminded her. “I’m sure all those woolen socks will be appreciated by someone, somewhere.”
“I’m going to talk with Jon. I think it’s time for you to be released to look for that job. Maybe he will even have some suggestions.”
Christine was excited. She was sure she’d never find a job quite as perfect as the one she’d lost in Edmonton, but no doubt God was at work in the whole matter. Had she stayed in Edmonton she would not have discovered the Hope Canteen program.
On the twenty-fifth of March, Christine approached the building that Jonathan had suggested for her first Calgary job interview. She was surprised that the whole venture still gave her nervous butterflies. This time she had made an appointment beforehand and came with Jonathan’s reference in hand. She did hope that the interview would go as well as the one with Mr. Stearns and that she would find a boss as nice as he seemed to be.
The man behind the big desk seemed civil enough. Mr. Burns asked logical questions and outlined logical requirements. “I’ve known Jonathan for years, and I don’t think he would recommend you if you couldn’t handle the job,” he said simply. “You can start Monday morning.”
Christine could not believe it had come so easily—and so quickly. She thought back to those treks through the winter cold in Edmonton and her disheartened return at each day’s end. Surely God was indeed in charge. She decided to stop on her way back to buy her aunt Mary a box of candy and her uncle Jon a new necktie. She had a job. She had money in her bank account. She had a place to live—if she still wanted to board with them. And, most importantly, she felt she was making a difference in lives. What more could she ask?
Why didn’t she feel happy? Of course she was happy. No, she was content. She didn’t feel really settled. She wondered if she would ever be truly happy until she was back in the North where she belonged. Anywhere else, she felt like she was just putting in time.
Her thoughts suddenly jumped to Laray. She had been much too busy to even think about him for many weeks. But now the days of caring for Aunt Mary were over. Now she could take up with her own life again.
What was Laray doing now? Had he been transferred? Henry had not said so. Nor had her mother mentioned it in any of their frequent phone conversations.
No, he must still be there. Was he still waiting for a note from her? Suddenly the thought of getting back in touch was appealing. She would like to know what was going on in his life. She wished he could pay a visit to the city. She would like to take him to Hope Canteen. Let him listen to the talk—some of it casual banter, some of it serious as one or another opened hearts about their hopes and fears. She would like Laray to be able to feel the pulse of the young people preparing to serve their country.
Just drop a note. Could she do that? But what would it signify? Would he be expecting too much? “No promises,” he had said. “I’ll take it from there.” What had he meant by that? And would he still feel the same way? It had been almost three months since they’d had the conversation. Things may have changed by now.
All weekend Christine thought off and on about writing the note. Once she even sat down with pen and paper. “Just a note to say you are doing fine”—wasn’t that what he had said? That sounded easy enough. But she couldn’t write it. She wished she could talk with Henry. Perhaps Laray might have said something—indicated in some way how he currently felt. But it wasn’t the kind of discussion she could have with her big brother by phone. It just didn’t seem right.
The note was never written.
Christine was pleased at how quickly she was able to get into her new office routine.
She decided she would accept Uncle Jon and Aunt Mary’s kind invitation to be a boarder, at least for a while. They worked out their agreement as to rent, and Christine was sure she could never have made a better arrangement any other place. Nor would she have had more loving care—or better meals. She felt blessed.
All things work together for good, she often repeated to herself, though it was a wonder to her that God would allow her aunt Mary to endure so much suffering just to get her to Calgary. When she mentioned that fact to Mary, her aunt smiled.
“I don’t think that’s what the verse means—really,” Aunt Mary replied thoughtfully. “I don’t hold God accountable for my fall. It was my own carelessness. I knew the streets were icy, and I shouldn’t have been hurrying so. But you know me. Jonathan is always telling me I need to slow down.
“But once it did happen—that was when God stepped in and made something good come of it. It could have been all just useless pain that accomplished nothing—but God saw to it that it brought about some good. I agree that you are here for a purpose. You have real gifts for helping and listening and sharing your faith that you are using at Hope Canteen. I think that is God’s place for you at the present. What He has in mind for the future, I have no idea. But He’ll let you know that in plenty of time to prepare for it.”
Christine nodded in agreement. She was sure He would. But it would be such a relief to her mind to have it all neatly laid out before her. It was very hard to take it one step at a time.
Her mother phoned. “We were wondering if you’ll be able to come home for Easter. It seems such a long time since we’ve seen you. Henry can’t get away. That new officer is still taking some watching. Henry says Maurice rather loses patience with him at times.
“Henry says Milton—that’s his name, Milton Furbridge— is a bit lacking in police sense. I had to check with your father on that one. He says some people have a natural ability to know what should be done and how and when. In police work that is important—and it makes it so much easier for all concerned. Others have to learn it the hard way. ‘Always bumping their noses against the grid,’ was how your father put it. Anyway, Henry says it is much too far to travel for such a short time.
“I thought maybe you could come, dear. Doesn’t take long to come up on the train. Then catch a ride out with Mr. Carson. You do get a long weekend, don’t you?”
“I’ve a better idea,” Christine suggested. “Why don’t you and Dad come down? He gets a long weekend, too, doesn’t he? You could come on the train, and maybe Henry and Amber could drive up here. At least for Easter Sunday.”
There was silence.
“I’ll have to talk to your father,” Elizabeth finally said. But Christine could tell that her mother was excited about the idea. “You’re sure it’s okay with your aunt Mary?” she asked.
“It was her idea. Just the other day. ‘Wouldn’t it be fun if they could come?’ Aunt Mary said. ‘Maybe Henry and that other boy could meet your folks here,’ she said.”
“What other boy? Danny?”
“No. I think she meant Maurice Laray.”
“Oh, wouldn’t that be nice? But he couldn’t. They’d never be able to leave Milton on his own,” Elizabeth concluded. Christine wasn’t sure if she felt disappointed or relieved about that part of the plan.
“I’ll talk to your father,” her mother was saying again. “It would be wonderful if we could work it out.”
When Christine hung up the phone, she turned to her aunt. “I think they’ll come,” she said, excitement edging her voice. “Mama said she’ll have to talk to Dad, but I could tell she was ready to do some convincing. Unless something happens that he can’t leave, I think they’ll come.”
“Good,” said Mary. “I don’t know when we’ve had a chance to have Easter together. See. That’s another advantage in having you here.”
Christine was already mentally planning all the things she wanted to do with her folks. She’d take them to the canteen one evening and let them see firsthand the work that was being done with the young service personnel. She’d bring them by the building that housed her new job. She’d even give them a peek into her bankbook to let them know she was not squandering her paychecks.
It would be so good to have a nice long visit again instead of hurrying through costly phone calls.
“Oh, I do hope they’ll come,” she explained, kissing her aunt on the cheek. “Thank you for saying we could invite them.”
Mary laughed. “My dear girl,” she said, “your parents are always more than welcome in our home. They aren’t able to visit nearly often enough. We’ll make a great celebration of it. Have all the kids home to join us. I’ll get Lucy working on the plans right away.”
CHAPTER
Thirteen
When the word came that her folks were planning to come for the long Easter weekend, Christine began to count the days. And when Henry phoned that they would meet the family in Calgary, her excitement was nearly more than she could contain.
Her aunt Mary seemed to be almost as enthusiastic as she was. “Do you realize we have never had our two families all together at the same time? Oh, William and his family must come, they just must.”
And Mary promptly rang William in Winnipeg. Christine heard part of the conversation. “Your aunt Beth and uncle Wynn will be here, and Henry and Amber are coming too. You haven’t met Henry’s new wife yet. She’s so sweet. You haven’t been home for just ages. I’ve missed the little ones so.” She caught herself. “Oh, I’ve missed you and Violet, too, of course—but the little ones change so much in such a short time. I hate to miss all of that. Oh—bless them. Oh—that’s sweet.”
A long pause while William must have been talking.
“Yes. Yes—of course we understand. But if it works out, we’d so love to have you. Where will we put everyone? I’ve got all these extra rooms. Yes, Christine is with us. I don’t know how we would have made out without her help. Yes. I expect they will stay with us. I know. I know how many children you have. But the girls are here. They’d love to share rooms with family. Their children would be so excited to have their cousins. I know. I know it’s a busy time. But it would be such a wonderful opportunity to all be together. We never have, you know. I know, dear. Well, you do what you think is best. Give my love to Violet and the kids. Yes. Yes, you too. Bye-bye.”
Christine heard the soft click of the receiver. Her aunt reentered the room, running her hands over her skirts in nervous excitement. Her eyes were sparkling. “I think they’ll come,” she said. Christine smiled and wondered what had happened to “You do what you think is best.”
“He says he is very busy in the office right now, but he will try to clear things so they can come. He says the kids have been begging to go to Nana’s house. Isn’t that sweet? My, I miss them.”
Later that evening William called back to say they were making plans to come. Christine had never seen her aunt Mary so animated. Mary immediately began telephoning her daughters. “They’re coming. We’ll all be here. Oh, isn’t it wonderful? It’ll be like birthdays and Christmas all rolled into one.”
One after another the calls were repeated to Sarah, Kathleen, and Lizbeth, each one with more excitement than the last. “We’ll get together and make the plans. Work out the details. We’ll have our Easter dinner here, of course. It will be so much fun to have to stretch out the table. I still haven’t sat down and counted noses. Can you come over for coffee in the morning? We’ll work it all out then.”
Christine had to agree. It would be like one large Christmas and birthday celebration.
Wynn and Elizabeth would be the first to arrive. Wynn had arranged to take a few extra days in Calgary. He had some police business to attend to in the city and could do so while Elizabeth spent more time visiting. Christine rode with Jon and Mary to meet their train.
The conversation was lively on the way home. Elizabeth had to hear all the details about the coming weekend. “It will be so good to see William, Violet, and their little ones. I haven’t seen them for ages,” she enthused.
“His little ones aren’t so little any more,” Jonathan chuckled.
“My, no,” added Mary. “Leticia is already fourteen. I can scarcely believe it. Brenda is ten and Mark is eight. And then they have the little tagalong. Paul Jonathan is only two.”
They were speaking of family members Christine had never even met. “They will be staying with Kathleen—except for Leticia. She will go to Tom and Sarah’s. Sarah’s Janet is about the same age. They write one another regularly. Janet spent a few weeks in Winnipeg last summer. Audrey doesn’t think it fair that she doesn’t have a girl cousin her age. ‘Boys aren’t much good as cousins,’ she says. William’s Mark and Kathleen’s Toby are her age, but they are a little too rowdy for Audrey. And Mitchell is always busy trying to keep up with them even though he’s only six. Of course Lizbeth’s little Andrew is still much too young to attempt keeping up with the pack. He’s not even walking yet.”
“I do so look forward to seeing them all,” Elizabeth said again.
“It’s going to be fun,” was the general consensus of everyone in the car.
It was raining when the train from the East pulled into the station. They all were gathered to meet it, young cousins dashing around excitedly calling to one another while parents tried to keep them firmly in control. Christine smiled. How did one ever harness so much exuberance? Even baby Andrew protested against being held, squirming to get down and crawl on the station floor.
At long last the whistle blew. They had to hold the children back to wait for the passengers to disembark, and then pandemonium broke out. Cousins greeted cousins with such wild excitement that Christine had to back up a few paces. She was concerned that the stationmaster might approach and ask them all to leave the premises. At length the greetings settled to a more normal level, and they busily sorted out passengers and luggage and prepared to load the vehicles for the trip back to Nana’s house. A late evening meal had been planned for all to share together. Christine wondered just how things would be once the cousins were turned loose in the house.
But it was more controlled than she imagined it would be. The cousins seemed to break up in little groups by ages and go their separate ways, leaving the adults to try to catch their breath and get to know one another again.
After a few moments, the cousins were gathered once again and the meal served. The children ate much more quickly than the adults and, because of the circumstances, were excused early and allowed to go off to play once again. Only babies Andrew and Elizabeth, in their high chairs, and young Paul Jonathan, who had fallen asleep on his father’s knee, were left.
The joyful chaos now turned into soft murmurs, punctuated by occasional laughter.
“When does Henry arrive?” William wanted to know.
“Tomorrow,” answered Elizabeth. “He has to work until four o’clock and will drive up after that. He warned us that he won’t be early. Said we should hang out the latchkey and all go to bed. I’m sure he knows better than that.”
William smiled knowingly and j
oked, “So no one will see them until Saturday, then?” He laughed as Elizabeth tried to explain that she would be staying up until they arrived.
“You always were a tease, William,” she said when she caught on.
“We’re planning on a late breakfast here on Saturday morning,” put in Mary. “We thought about nine o’clock if the children can last that long.”
William nodded. “We’ll give them a piece of toast if they’re up too early.”
Gradually the gathering broke up with many promises to one another about what the next day’s activity would hold, but Christine paid little attention. She had to be in at the office. She felt a little cheated, not to be able to share the day. Being part of a large, close family reminded her of the feel in the Indian village where she had grown up. Like everyone belonged together. Looked out for one another. She had missed that.
The next evening they sat around and sipped coffee and ate chocolate cake while waiting for the hours to tick by. They were alone once again—just Jon and Mary, Wynn and Elizabeth and Christine. The others had all taken tired children to various homes to tuck them into bed. It had been a busy day—Christine wondered just who was more exhausted, the children or their parents.
Now it was quiet.
The evening was warm and pleasant, so they had not built a fire in the hearth. Christine was well aware that one pair of eyes or another traveled often to the clock on the mantel as each person tracked the journey. If Henry got away promptly after four, and if they had no delays, ate a picnic lunch on the way, and did not stop long for a gas fill-up, they could arrive as early as ten o’clock. Perhaps even as early as nine-thirty if things went especially well.
At least the roads would be good. The rain had not lasted long. Just enough to settle the dust for good driving, her father had declared. The country roads could be rather nasty if they got either too dry or too wet.