They went down to the kitchen, where Mabel poured them each some coffee. He took his with cream and sugar, and Seana drank hers black. They sat down at the kitchen table while Mabel continued her work at the counter. With the warm sunshine streaming through the window, they both relaxed. Clayton asked, “It’s a bit strange your being here, isn’t it? I mean of all the nurses in New York and there you are waiting in the wings.”
“I think God put me here.”
Clayton stared at her. She had spoken of God as normally as if she had spoken of her father.
“You really believe that, don’t you?”
Seana’s eyes flew open wide. “Well, bless you, of course I believe that! Do you think God created us and put us here and then left us alone to go our own way?”
“As a matter of fact, I suppose I have thought something like that.”
“Tell me this: when you have a son, is that what you’ll do with him? Just shove him out the door and say, ‘Don’t bother me with your problems’?”
“I hope not.”
“Well, devil fly off, I hope not too!” Seana sipped her coffee. “God made us each one different, but He’s as interested in you, Clayton Winslow, as if you were the only human being in all the world. He designed you before you were even born, and He knows every thought you ever had or ever will have—as well as every deed good or bad—and His desire is for you to conform to the image of His Son Jesus Christ.”
Clayton sat absolutely still. He had never been preached at like this before! There was a hidden fire in this girl that refused to stay inside. Her eyes spoke as she looked at him steadfastly, and every line of her body showed that she fully believed what she was saying.
“I’ve just never had that kind of religion.”
“Everybody’s got religion of some kind. I suppose the old Scratch himself has some.”
“Old Scratch?”
“That’s what they call the devil back in Wales. Listen, you don’t need more religion. You need Jesus.”
“I believe in Jesus, of course.”
“Do you trust Him with all your heart and soul? Do you love Him with everything that’s in you?”
Clayton wished fervently that he had not come downstairs to have this cup of coffee! He nervously twisted the cup around and finally met her eyes. She was watching him intently. In meeting her glance, he suddenly found her a rather provocative challenge—not the simple daughter of the family’s groundskeeper but a complex and unfathomable individual. He noticed that as she leaned forward speaking of Jesus, her breath came quickly and color ran freshly across her cheeks.
“I’ll tell you what,” she said. “I’d like to give you some suggestions for how to act when you go up to see your mother.”
“I think I know how to act with my own mother.”
“Perhaps you do, but let me encourage you to tell her good things. Tell her she’s going to get well. Read some of the promises out of the Bible.”
“We’re not that kind of a family, Seana.”
“I believe you’re going to be one day.”
Her confidence took Clayton by surprise. “Why do you think that?”
“Because my dad and I are praying that you will find Jesus precious.” She sipped her coffee and said, “Now, that’s the end of my sermon for the day. Tell me about building towers and bridges.”
Clayton found this much easier than the intense conversation that had preceded. He was surprised at how quick the girl was. She knew little of architecture, but he found himself explaining his pet theories.
After a few moments she got up, saying, “I must get back to your mother. Maybe you’ll tell me some more about your buildings later.”
Clayton rose and said, “When do you think she’ll wake up?”
“I’ll come and get you when she does.” She smiled and then said, “You’re not as bad as I thought you were at first, Clayton Winslow. You have a good heart—toward your mother, at least.” She smiled, and he noticed again the dimple that appeared on her right cheek. “You’re going to be a good man after you let God take charge of you.”
Clayton watched as she turned and left the kitchen; then he heard Mabel say, “I guess she cleaned your clock, didn’t she, Mr. Clayton?”
Clayton nodded. “I guess she did, but you know, it wasn’t all that bad, Mabel.”
****
After three days Lucille took a turn for the worse. Dr. Evans came at once, and after examining her, he met with the family in the parlor again. “I’m not optimistic. With her heart condition, the prognosis isn’t good.”
“Is it pneumonia?” Sharon asked, dreading to say the word.
Evans stroked his beard and refused to meet her eyes. “I don’t want to frighten you, but she’s very close to it.”
“Should she be in the hospital?” Leland demanded.
“I don’t think so.”
“But what can we do?” Clayton asked almost desperately. “There must be something, Dr. Evans.”
“We’re doing all that human beings can do.” Evans started to say something else but then clamped his lips together. He looked almost stern, for he did not like to see disease get the better of his patients. He lifted his hands in a strange gesture. “We’ll have to depend on God, I think.”
****
Clayton could not forget the doctor’s words: “We’ll have to depend on God.” He had never had to consider such a thing. His family’s wealth had insulated him from much of the world’s harshness. But now he knew that death could stalk the grounds of the millionaire as well as the tenements on the Lower East Side.
All day long he fretted and could not concentrate on anything. When evening came, he sat silently at the dinner table. His father and sister were disheartened too, barely touching their food. They finally broke up, and each quietly went his separate way.
Clayton listened to the radio for a time, but was not even aware of which program was on. He was thinking of his mother. He tried to read for a while and then went to bed and tossed and turned. He tried to convince himself that he was going to sleep, but he could not.
He got up and put on his robe and slippers. He walked down to his mother’s room and cautiously turned the knob, trying to make no sound. As the door cracked open, he heard someone speaking, and when he pushed the door open slightly, he expected to see Seana talking to his mother. Instead he saw that the girl was on her knees beside the bed. As he moved closer he could hear her words.
“O Lord, this woman is beyond the help of doctors and medicine, but she is not beyond your help, for with thee, O Lord God Almighty, nothing is impossible. I pray, O God, that you would manifest your glory and heal her body. Let your mercy shine forth and be a living witness to those in this house that you are the Lord God Almighty and that you are worthy of all our love and all our devotion. . . .”
Clayton listened spellbound as she prayed on and on. The prayer was like nothing he had ever heard. At times Seana grew almost demanding. He heard her say, “O God, you have spoken in your Word, and I stand on it. Now, Lord, you have to fulfill your Word as you always do. And I’m expecting that you’re going to do exactly what I’m asking—and that is to heal Lucille Winslow.”
At other times she prayed in a language he did not know but suspected was Welsh. There was a lilt to it, a different cadence from English.
Once he heard a sob in her voice. He was shocked when she stretched out full-length on the floor and cried, “O God, you are my hope and my trust! Heal this woman, I plead. I can do no more than beg you, Lord, for I know you are merciful.”
Clayton quietly left and shut the door, emotionally stirred in a way he had never been in his life. Here this girl who was practically a stranger to his family was crying out to God with such fervor! He went back to his room and sat down on his bed, unable to get her prayers out of his mind. He knelt beside his bed, something he had not done since he was a small boy, and began to pray. There was no eloquence in it, and he spoke to God rather awkwardly. When he co
uld think of nothing else to say, he got into bed and stared up at the ceiling. “God, I wish I could pray like Seana, but I guess I’d have to be a better Christian than I am. So please, God, hear her prayers if you won’t hear mine.”
****
He slept fitfully, tossing most of the night and awakening at dawn. He got up and went downstairs, where he found Seana speaking with Sharon. Seana turned to Clayton at once, her eyes bright. “Your mother had a good night’s rest, and when she woke up this morning, she was so much better. Her fever is gone, and her pulse is almost regular now.”
“She’s going to be all right?” Clayton whispered.
“Yes, thanks to the living God, it looks like she’s going to be all right.”
Clayton felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders, and he felt tears come to his eyes. He quickly turned away and mumbled, “That’s wonderful, Seana.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The Trouble With Being Rich
“I’ve never seen anything like it. It usually takes people weeks to recover from a thing like this.”
Dr. Evans was standing beside Lucille, who smiled up at him, her face glowing with new color. “I really feel able to get up, Doctor.”
“We’ll talk about that tomorrow. I suppose in the meantime you could use the wheelchair.”
“That would be so nice. I’m tired of this bed.”
Clayton, who stood behind the doctor listening, said nothing. He was remembering Seana’s prayers for his mother and wondering if he was observing a miracle. Like Dr. Evans, he found it hard to believe his mother’s recovery had anything to do with prayer. Now he heard Dr. Evans say, “Your heart is more regular than it’s been in years, Lucille, but I still want you to take care of yourself.” The doctor turned to Leland and said, “You watch her now; make sure she doesn’t try to do too much too soon.”
“I’ll watch her like a hawk, Doctor,” Leland said.
Dr. Evans smiled down at Lucille. “I’ll come back and check on you tomorrow, but you mind your nurse.”
“Yes, Doctor, of course.”
As soon as Dr. Evans and his father left, Clayton drew a chair up beside the bed and sat down. Seana was freshening up after a long night with little sleep. “You gave us all quite a scare, you know.”
“I know, dear. I’m so sorry to be such a bother.”
“How could you be that?” Clayton took her hand and kissed it. “You look marvelous. You’ve got color in your cheeks, and your eyes are clear, and the doctor says your heart is doing fine.”
“I’m so grateful to be well, son.”
Clayton held her hand for a moment longer. “Do you remember much about when you were at your lowest point?”
“I remember thinking I was going to die. I was only barely conscious, but it seems I remember hearing Seana praying for me.”
“She probably was.”
“She’s such a dear young woman. She cared for me so marvelously.”
“Now we’re going to get you stronger so you won’t need a nurse.”
“Do you suppose I could have some breakfast?”
“Of course. I’ll go see to it.”
Clayton went downstairs to the kitchen and had Mabel prepare a tray for his mother. When he took it up to her, he saw that Seana had returned and was bending over the bed washing his mother’s face with a cloth.
“And a good morning to you, Mr. Clayton Winslow.”
“Good morning, Seana. How does the patient look?”
“She couldn’t look better.”
Clayton sat with his mother while she ate a good breakfast, and then Seana shooed him out, saying it was time for him to leave. He left the room but waited in the hallway until Seana came out. “She looks great, doesn’t she?” he said.
“She’s had a healing touch from the Lord God.”
“Seana, I have a confession to make.”
“Only one?”
“Well, one in particular. Last night when my mother was so bad, I couldn’t sleep. I came down to see how she was, and when I opened the door, I heard you praying.”
“Did you, now!”
“Yes. I never believed much in things like that. Our family prayers were pretty perfunctory, I guess.”
“But now you must believe. Perhaps your mother was ill so that you and your father and your sister could see the power of God.”
“Perhaps.”
He wanted to inquire more into the matter but found it hard to speak to her. “I know I’ve apologized for my behavior when I first met you in the stable, but I keep thinking of it, so let me tell you again how sorry I am.”
“You don’t have to apologize every time you see me! You told me you were sorry, and I said I was sorry, so now it’s buried. That’s the way it is with our sins when we come to Jesus. God takes all of our sins and puts them in a bottomless sea and puts up a No Fishing sign.”
He could not help smiling. “You know, I think apologizing to you might be the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
“You’re not good at admitting you’re wrong, are you, Mr. Clayton?”
“Just call me Clayton. No ‘mister.’ No, I’m not.”
Seana had a look of compassion in her fine green eyes. “That’s the trouble with being rich. You never have to say you’re wrong.”
“That’s not so.”
“I think it is. It’s only when you’re flat on your back and there’s nowhere else to look but God that you really feel the need to pray.”
“I’ve been wondering how you could pray for my mother like that. You’re not even related. You hardly knew each other.”
“I asked God to give me a burden for her, and He did,” she said simply. “It was clear that she needed someone to pray for her, and I seemed to be the likeliest candidate. It’s what’s called intercessory prayer when we can pray for others like that. You should try it sometime.”
He could not get over Seana’s boldness. “I actually did pray for my mother last night. But I could tell when you prayed you really believed God was going to heal her.”
“You’re making progress, you are, Clayton,” Seana said with a smile. “Now, be off with you. I’ve got work to do, so you go design a bridge or something.”
****
“Where in the world are we going, Temple?”
“We’re taking a vacation. We need a break, a little relaxation.”
Sharon was on the back of Temple’s motorcycle, holding on to him tightly. She thought back over the last two weeks, amazed that her mother was well again and that she was together with Temple again. In the face of her mother’s brush with death, Sharon had turned to him for comfort. Despite her embarrassment and anger over their kiss at the ball park, he was the only person she wanted to be with in the midst of her family crisis. He had been more than willing to come to the Winslow estate when she called and offer his emotional support. During the last week the two had taken up their visits to the poor again and had been visiting a family named Ramsey whose youngest child had just died. The family had no money for a funeral or burial, and Sharon had privately helped them with that.
As they bounced over the roads on the motorcycle, Sharon remembered watching Temple talk with Mr. and Mrs. Ramsey, impressed with how gentle he was. Despite his rough-looking exterior, he had a compassion she had rarely seen in a man—or a woman either, for that matter.
“Why, this is Coney Island!” Sharon exclaimed as they pulled into the parking lot of the famous park.
“Sure is,” Temple said as he stopped in a suitable parking spot. “Have you ever been here?”
“Not for years and years. My dad brought me here with my best friends for my sixteenth birthday.”
“Wow! That has been years! It’s a great place to be a kid again. Let’s pretend we’re sixteen years old.”
“I can’t even think back that far.”
They bought a book of tickets for the rides, which they found were all going at full speed. “How about that one?”
Temple said. “The Octopus.”
Sharon looked at the Octopus with apprehension. Its cars were mounted on eight long steel arms that went around and up and down. The cars swiveled as the arms turned, spinning too violently for her liking.
“I’m not sure about that one.”
“There’s only one way to get sure about it, kiddo. Let’s try it! Come on.”
Sharon reluctantly followed. She got into the seat with Temple settling in beside her, and the attendant fastened a thick wooden bar in front of them. She grasped it nervously. “I’m not sure this is such a good idea.”
“I am. When you’re on one of these things, you can’t think about your troubles—you’re too busy wondering if you’re gonna die soon!”
Sharon flashed him a worried look as the ride started up and she found herself being thrown around. She bounced off the side of the car, then against Temple. He put his arm around her and held her tight, laughing. “I’m your safety belt. Just trust me!”
The ride was exhilarating, and Sharon discovered that she liked it after all.
“That was fun!” she said as they tumbled off together, dizzy and laughing.
“Let’s do the roller coaster next.” Temple grabbed her hand, and they headed to the roller coaster like a couple of schoolchildren.
Sharon actually enjoyed it more than Temple did. When they pulled out of one of the steep dives, she turned to him and saw the strain on his face. “Come on. This is relaxation,” she teased. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be scared.”
“I keep wondering what would happen if this thing went off the track.”
Sharon had wondered that too but had dismissed the thought. “Don’t be afraid,” she kidded him. “As Seana would say, ‘What is to be will be.’”
After several more rides, Temple bought some cotton candy and two candied apples. Eating the sticky treats in the summer heat, Sharon shook her head helplessly. “You need a shower after eating these things.”
“We could take a dip at the beach,” Temple said with a grin.
“No thanks,” Sharon said quickly. There was no way she would even dream of wearing a bathing suit in public!
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