Love's Compass

by Gade, Carla; Franklin, Darlene;

  She looked up and pushed the hair back from her face. “You seem to have enjoyed rekindling your friendship with Reverend Mattheson. I mean, Mr. Mattheson.”

  “Reverend Mattheson is correct. His faith has been tested, but he’ll come around.”

  Eliana smiled. “I’m so glad to hear that.” When she completed her task, she put the supplies away. “I think I’ll go take a look at that old relic.”

  “Were you talking about me or my artifact?” Mr. Mattheson chuckled as he poked his head outside his tent door.

  “There’s the old fossil now.” Papa grinned.

  “Papa told me about your discovery.” Eliana looked with interest at the small box he held.

  Mr. Mattheson sat down at the table with Eliana, took an object out of a box, and held it up. She took a close look at what appeared to be a ladle. “How fascinating. The painting on it is beautiful. Do you think there is any significance to the design?”

  “I’m no expert, but there may well be.” Mr. Mattheson cocked his head and grinned. “That’s quite an astute remark. Reminds me of my wife. Essie used to look beyond the obvious for the deeper meaning in things. She would have enjoyed knowing you.” His eyes lingered on Eliana’s face.

  A moment later Mr. Mattheson stood abruptly and almost dropped the piece of pottery. Eliana wrapped her hands around his to steady his grip.

  “Thank you,” he said. “It would have been a shame if it had broken. Some things cannot be repaired.” As he wrapped the piece in several layers of cloth and placed it in the box, Eliana had the distinct feeling that he was thinking of something—or someone—else.

  She rose from her seat. “Papa, we haven’t been keeping up on our evening Bible reading, and today is Sunday. Reverend Mattheson, perhaps you could read for us and share some of your insights.”

  “I don’t know about that. It’s been a long time,” he said.

  Eliana folded her hands and rested them on the table. “Please, it would mean so much to me.”

  A look of defeat crossed his face. “I’m not worthy. Never really was.”

  “Are any of us truly worthy to do what the Lord asks of us? You taught me that when I lost Josephine,” Papa said.

  “I remember. You weren’t feeling up to the task of parenting alone. But you’ve done a splendid job, my friend.” Reverend Mattheson smiled at Eliana.

  “You said the Lord would equip me for the task, and He did. He’ll do the same for you,” Papa said.

  Reverend Mattheson took Eliana’s hand, “How can I complain? I’m ashamed I didn’t initiate the idea myself, being the Lord’s Day. God knows I need some nudging, and you were just the one to do so.”

  “She has been known to get her way,” Papa chimed in. “And I’ve heard that our heavenly Father has a way of bringing us back around.”

  Eliana knew her father meant his own time in the wilderness as a young man, and his friend’s role in bringing him back to the Lord. If not, what would have become of her?

  Papa placed the Bible in front of his friend.

  “That’s Mama’s Bible,” Eliana said.

  Reverend Mattheson wrinkled his brow and shook his head. “Then I’m definitely not worthy. But as you said, it’s the Lord who equips us. Even this broken vessel.”

  “Good evenin’.” Yiska sauntered up to the table. “I hope I’m not interrupting.” He lowered a glance toward Eliana.

  She offered him a small smile.

  “You’re right on time,” Papa said. “That is, if you’d like to spend a few minutes with us while Reverend Mattheson reads from God’s Word.”

  Yiska arched an eyebrow. “Reverend? I guess God equips anyone. No disrespect intended. I just never would have guessed.”

  “That’s not to my credit. But coincidently, we were just talking about how it’s our heavenly Father who makes us worthy, not ourselves.”

  Yiska sat down. “I do think I might be ready to hear what He has to say about that.”

  The early morning sun greeted Eliana the following day, her heart full of praise. As they followed the river southwest, Mr. Robbins and his surveyors stopped for frequent measurements. This provided much opportunity to document the sublime landscape of sandstone arches, juniper-dotted deserts, and multicolored plateaus. Seeing Papa enjoying himself so much made her heart overflow with joy.

  But the news Papa gave her that morning mattered most of all. Yiska had accepted Jesus as Creator and King. He had spoken with Papa and Reverend Mattheson at length about his questions after she had retreated to her tent and prayed.

  He now understood the reality that Jesus was no mere man, but a divine being—God’s only begotten, who was with His Father from the beginning of time and appeared to the world in the flesh. The Son had at last risen in Yiska’s heart.

  She couldn’t wait to see Yiska, but he’d been detained with Mr. Robbins and his crew all morning.

  Papa set up his camera overlooking a wondrous gorge layered with vivid earthen hues. The crisp, flattened tops of the plateaus contrasted with pointed mountaintops that were but a faded shadow of blue in the distance. On this side of the canyon, enormous sandstone rocks rose up around them, creating interesting places to explore.

  Yiska walked up to the bluff and greeted Eliana. “Beautiful.”

  Upon hearing his voice, she turned around. “Yiska. It is a beautiful world. I thought my eyes had beheld all its loveliness in the San Juan Mountains, but here I see a new kind of beauty that I never even knew existed.”

  “That’s exactly how I feel today.”

  Eliana continued to stand several feet away from him, though never feeling closer, simply admiring Yiska and what the Lord had done in his life. What He had done in her own, for she, too, was growing in faith every day. Some days flowed smoothly while others raged over rough waters, but through it all the current brought her closer to the Lord. She couldn’t imagine that anything could spoil the joy she felt that moment.

  Several feet ahead she spied Papa. He gradually backed away from his camera, gauging the perfect view, and stepped near a towering bank of rock.

  A movement on the precipice above him caught Eliana’s attention. She shaded her eyes just as a pile of rocks shifted.

  A medium-sized boulder rolled off the crag and crashed down on Papa.

  “Papa!” Eliana screamed as she flew to his side, Yiska right behind her. Reverend Mattheson dropped his sketch pad and hurried toward them.

  Papa lay on the sandy ground, bleeding from a gash in his head. The boulder was in pieces near him, stained with blood.

  “I’m right here, Papa.” She cradled his head in her lap as tears poured down her face. “I love you, Papa.”

  Reverend Mattheson hovered over him, gripping her father’s hand. Nothing else could be done.

  A small stream of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. Papa took a shuddering breath and spoke his last words. “Tell her.”

  Chapter 18

  Sobs wracked Eliana’s body as she leaned over Papa. How could this happen? A few moments ago he was enjoying his life, only to have it end in a flash.

  Yiska’s gentle hands helped Eliana to her feet. She fell into his embrace, releasing her grief and shock with a flood of tears.

  After a moment, she turned to Reverend Mattheson, her hands still on Yiska’s chest. “What did he mean? Tell me what?”

  The man’s eyes filled with compassion. “We can talk about it later, dear.”

  “No. I want to know now.”

  Yiska’s warm hand stayed on her back. “Are you sure?”

  A sob caught in her chest, and she tried to breathe. “Yes. I need to know.”

  Reverend Mattheson handed her a handkerchief. “Let’s go over there and sit.”

  Yiska wrapped his arm around her waist and led her to the shade of ancient piñons, where she sat on a large boulder.

  Reverend Mattheson covered the body of his longtime friend and joined them. “Robbins and the others need to know,” he said to Yi
ska.

  Yiska set his hand on Eliana’s shoulder. “Will you be all right?”

  “I’m in good hands. Thank you.” She squeezed Yiska’s hand and held it to her face before releasing it.

  As Yiska walked away, he glanced back over his shoulder. Eliana’s heart warmed to know his concern for her. She folded her trembling hands in her lap and bowed her head. She could find no words to pray but was thankful that her heavenly Father would hear the groaning of her heart.

  “What did Papa want me to know?” She looked into Reverend Mattheson’s ashen face.

  “Perhaps it’s best to wait until you are less upset,” he said.

  “I may already know.” A look of surprise jolted his face. “Is it that he was not…my father?” Eliana clutched her stomach and took slow breaths.

  “I don’t understand,” Reverend Mattheson said. “John said he never told you.”

  “He didn’t. But when I was fourteen I found a letter you wrote to him, thanking him for adopting me. You asked him never to tell me about the circumstances of my birth—that my life would be ruined if I knew.” Eliana turned away, the floodwaters threatening to flow once more.

  “That was after I learned your mother died.”

  Eliana brushed away a fresh tear. “Papa was my father in every way that mattered. I didn’t want anything to change. He was all I had.”

  Reverend Mattheson buried his face in his hands. He looked up and shook his head. “You’ve lived with this for all these years, dear girl.” He wiped beads of perspiration from his forehead. “I never should have placed this burden on him. Nor should you have ever had to know.”

  “Burden? Is that what I am?”

  Reverend Mattheson’s face blanched. “No! You are not a burden. The only burden was my ill choice. I’ve carried around regret for my selfish decision ever since I made it.” The man sobered. “I should have raised you myself. You were my wife’s child.”

  Bile rose in Eliana’s throat and she swallowed hard. She took a few deep breaths and walked over to Reverend Mattheson’s side and sat with him on the large rock. “Don’t say that. I was blessed to have Papa as my father. You gave me two amazing parents.” A lump formed in her throat. “Though, if you had raised me, I’m sure you would have been a wonderful father as well.”

  “John Van Horn was a far better man than I will ever be. He took you into his arms as an infant and accepted you as his own without hesitation. He and Josephine loved every inch of you. She was a fine mother, as my Essie would have been.”

  Eliana sniffled, trying to restrain her tears. “There’s more, isn’t there? Tell me what happened.”

  Reverend Mattheson let out a deep breath and set his hat in his lap. “We were on our way west—Esther and I, your parents, and several other families. I was called to preach at the township we were headed to. The wagon train was attacked by Comanches. We managed to fight them off. But Essie…” He balled his hands into fists and turned his head aside, taking heavy breaths.

  “You are not my…”

  Reverend Mattheson’s mouth formed into a grim line.

  “Comanches.” Eliana placed her fingers on her lips as tears pooled in her eyes, and she fought the nausea away. I’m half Indian. Like Yiska.

  Reverend Mattheson stood and paced. “When we learned she was with child, I promised it didn’t matter, that I’d accept the baby as my own. But when she died in her travail, I could barely face my life without her and could not comprehend how I would ever care for an infant.” He looked at Eliana as if to gain her understanding.

  “The infant who caused her death.” Anger vied with compassion, creating a storm within her.

  Reverend Mattheson rushed up to her. “No. You were an innocent babe. It was the Indian I blamed.”

  My father. But a small voice spoke to her heart. Beloved, I am your Father.

  She looked up toward the bright sun and heaved a deep sigh. “Go on. Please.”

  “John and Josephine had always wanted children of their own. I placed you in their care and had them promise never to reveal the shame of your true parentage.”

  “Shame.” Eliana swallowed. The Voice spoke again, quiet and sure. Those who look to the Son will not be ashamed. Look to me, daughter.

  “I continued my sojourn west and pastored that little church, but your parents settled in Missouri. I could only bring myself to visit a few times. You looked so much like your mother it hurt—so selfish of me.” He gazed at Eliana for a moment with misty eyes. “Her hair was much lighter, and her eyes were blue. But your smiling eyes and that little dimple in your chin…You have her generous heart and feisty spirit as well.”

  Eliana let out a little whimper.

  “The truth ate at me through the years. I was living a lie. It was I who bore the shame. I should have protected Essie. Kept my promise to her.”

  Eliana took a deep breath, trying to take it all in. “I’m sure you did everything you could.”

  Reverend Mattheson choked up. He turned away and looked into the distance, his hands plunged deep in his pockets. Before he turned around, he pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose.

  Eliana rose, compassion also rising within her for this hurting soul. “The last time I saw you, you baptized me.”

  “Yes, when you were twelve. It was my last baptism. After that, I realized what a hypocrite I was and left my days as a pastor behind me. Though it did little to appease my guilt.”

  “Reverend Mattheson.” Eliana sighed. “I’ve always respected you. I don’t hold your choice against you. You did well to place me where I could be best cared for—with a loving mother and father who longed for a child. But you gave me a heavenly Father as well, who has met my every need. And He will also meet yours, if you allow Him to.”

  Reverend Mattheson laughed and shook his head. “No wonder John called you Sunshine. Even now you are a shining light.”

  Eliana stepped toward her would-have-been father. “Would it help if I told you that I forgave you long ago? I wish I’d found a way to let you know. You and Papa carried an unnecessary burden on my account.” Tears trickled down her face.

  “Sweet child.” He pulled her into his arms, and together they wept.

  Yiska stood among the circle of men, hat in his hands, as Reverend Mattheson spoke at Eliana’s father’s grave.

  “In John’s last days, he had a chance to explore and photograph some marvelous sights, including the Aztec Ruins. The remarkable fortress of many rooms amazed him. But none of it compares to the wonders he is seeing in glory.” He opened his Bible but did not read from the pages—he spoke the words from his heart. “‘In my Father’s house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also.’”

  Yiska believed these words and rejoiced that this faith gave Eliana hope and courage, although her sadness was unmistakable.

  When the service ended, Yiska enfolded her in his arms. If he could only absorb her pain the way his shirt soaked in her tears.

  The somber caravan proceeded a few miles to Farmingtown, at the confluence of the Animas, LaPlata, and San Juan rivers. Eliana now rode her father’s mount.

  Once they had set up camp, she retreated to her tent for a nap. Sometime later Yiska found her sitting alone by some low bushes.

  “They call that Indian paintbrush.” He pointed to the red flowers protruding from the sandy ground.

  “Mmm. They’re so pretty,” Eliana said.

  Yiska looked into her sleepy eyes, a little puffy from crying. “Would you like some company?”

  “Please.”

  He sat on the ground. “Mr. Robbins tells me we’ll stay all day tomorrow and leave the next morning.”

  “I’d prefer to keep going, but I know the animals need to rest,” she said.

  “He also needs to replenish supplies at the trading post and pick up the new sand
stone marker for the four corners.”

  “I’m planning to complete this expedition…for Papa.”

  Yiska nodded. “I expected you would.”

  They sat in silence for several moments. Then Eliana looked at him with wide eyes. “I haven’t told you about my conversation with Reverend Mattheson.”

  “You don’t have to. Unless it would help.”

  Eliana nodded but said nothing until Yiska took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Reverend Mattheson’s wife, Esther, was my real mother. He gave me over to the Van Horns when she died at my birth.”

  Yiska lifted his eyebrows. “Mattheson is your father?”

  “That is what I believed. But, no. A Comanche warrior is.” Her eyes shifted away.

  Couldn’t she bear to look at him? “Eliana. This must be a shock.”

  She bit her lip. “When I was fourteen years old, I discovered a letter from Reverend Mattheson to Papa revealing that I was adopted. I never told a soul.”

  Yiska retracted his hand. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

  Eliana looked back at him, her gaze intense. “I was ashamed…and frightened.” She let out a deep sigh. “I didn’t want to lose my Papa. I didn’t understand the things the letter hinted at. I was foolish not to tell him. Something like that could have never changed our relationship. He will always be my father.”

  “What about your true heritage, Eliana?” Yiska asked.

  “Essie Mattheson was also a Christian Jew. She led my mother to the Lord.”

  “And you are part Indian. Like me. Is that what you’re ashamed of? Why you never told me?” If so, she would always be ashamed of him. The thought pierced him like a poison arrow.

  Eliana looked at Yiska dismayed. “What do you mean? I’m not ashamed of you. Or myself. I didn’t know who my true father was until today, or what had happened to my real mother. I’m disturbed by the horrific circumstances. I can’t even think about it.” She buried her face in her hands and wept.

  “Eliana, forgive me. I never should have said that. I was afraid that this knowledge would make you despise me…and yourself. I couldn’t bear that.”