A Time to Love

by Al Lacy

  Adrienne had long since given her blessing to Linda’s pursuit of the mail order bride idea, but she still felt a strong sense of protection of her daughter that made her say, “Pastor, you have no doubt that the Lord would lead in this manner to bring two young people together and eventually have them marry? Should she even consider the possibility of marrying a man she’s never met?”

  Stanford smiled. “If God is in it, Adrienne, of course she should marry him, in spite of the fact that she’s never met him before. And as for Linda and Blake not knowing each other before she goes to possibly become his bride, the same thing happened under God’s leadership with Isaac and Rebekah in Genesis 24. They had never met, but when the man of God brought Rebekah to Isaac, he loved her and married her.”

  Adrienne and Nolan looked at each other and smiled.

  “I hadn’t thought of Isaac and Rebekah in the light of Linda’s situation with Blake, Pastor,” said Adrienne.

  “We talked about it after we were here the other night,” Doris said. “Isaac and Rebekah had not so much as exchanged letters. Yet the Lord had them picked out for each other, and when they met, they knew it.”

  “I will say one word of caution,” said the pastor. “Linda must be very careful to make sure Blake is the man God has chosen for her. But if the Lord brings them together, then all will be well.”

  “Pastor,” Linda said, “I’ve already written a reply to the letter you just read. Based on what all of you have just said, I’m going to mail it.”

  10

  LESS THAN TWO WEEKS AFTER MAILING her second letter to Blake Barrett, Linda Forrest was making herself a new dress in the sewing room when she heard her mother at the front door of the house, talking to someone.

  A moment later, Adrienne came into the sewing room with an envelope in her hand.

  Linda’s eyes widened. “Is … is it from Blake?”

  “It sure is, honey.” Adrienne turned to leave. “I’ll let you read it in private.”

  “It’s all right, Mom,” Linda said quickly. “Stay here.”

  Adrienne leaned against the door frame. “Okay. You go ahead and read it, and you can tell me what he says if you want.”

  Linda hastily opened the envelope, took out the four-page letter, and began to read.

  After only a few lines, she giggled.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “He’s telling about some things he did as a boy. When he was ten years old, there was a girl who sat in the desk just ahead of him at school. She had carrot red hair that was always in long pigtails. She was older than him, and she continually gave him a bad time. One day, he’d had all he could take. He took the lid off the inkwell in his desk and dipped one of her pigtails in the ink. The girl ran up to the teacher and showed her the jet black tip of her pigtail. Blake got a whipping in front of the whole class, and the teacher sent a note home with him for his parents, telling them what he did. It was to be returned with both parents’ signatures. He had no choice but to deliver it. When his parents learned what he’d done, he got a real whipping from his father!”

  Adrienne was pleased to see her daughter laugh. Blake Barrett had already put some happiness back into her life.

  Linda laughed even harder as she read more tales from the life of young Mr. Barrett and shared them with her mother, and Adrienne found herself laughing with her.

  Linda read a few more lines out loud, then paused for a moment and said, “Blake’s mother is dead, Mom. He says she was saved after she married his father, and she led Blake to the Lord when he was nine. His father is dead, too, but he died lost.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

  Linda read on silently and stopped suddenly, saying, “Oh, bless his heart.”

  “What, honey?”

  “Listen to this. ‘Linda, forgive me if I’m wrong, but I detect that you are possibly going through some kind of heartache. Please tell me if I’m right. And if I am, would you share it with me?’”

  Adrienne smiled. “You haven’t written anything about Lewis, have you?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Well, bless his heart, indeed. Honey, this is some young man. He’s so perceptive that he senses the deep hurt you’re carrying, just by reading between the lines of your letters. I like that in him. I’m sure your father will, too.”

  Linda read further and commented to her mother that Blake said he was glad to hear some of the interesting things that happened in her childhood, and that her parents sounded like wonderful people. He hoped one day to meet them.

  That evening when Nolan arrived home, Linda gave him Blake’s letter to read while she and her mother looked on. As Adrienne predicted, Nolan was impressed with Blake’s keen discernment of Linda’s heartache, though she had told him nothing about being jilted on her wedding day.

  “So what do you think, Daddy? In my next letter, shall I tell Blake about what Lewis and Janet did?”

  “Most definitely,” Nolan said. “If the Lord leads you two together, Blake will have to be told about it. Why not tell him now?”

  “Then I’ll write him tonight and tell him the whole thing.”

  Again, in less than two weeks, a reply came from Blake. Linda excitedly opened the envelope at the kitchen table. Adrienne stood by the cupboard and watched while her daughter began to read.

  When she had read the first paragraph, Linda looked up at her mother. “He says he’s not surprised at the source of my heartache. He thought that’s what it might have been. But he’s surprised at the way it happened … on the very day of the wedding.”

  She read on, and her eyes filled with tears.

  Adrienne’s brow furrowed. “What’s wrong, honey?”

  “Nothing, Mom. It’s just that Blake is so tender and kind. He says his heart goes out to me, and if the Lord should lead us together, he’ll do everything he can to help heal my broken heart. Oh, Mom, he’s so special. He has such a kind and tender way with words.”

  Again, she looked up and said, “He says he thinks it’s time we exchange photographs. He asks if I will send one right away. He’ll do the same. Mom, I don’t have anything recent. I can’t go out on the streets to a photographer; I might meet someone I know. What should I do?”

  Adrienne laid a hand on her shoulder. “I’m going shopping with Frances tomorrow. While we’re downtown, I’ll go to one of the photography studios and hire a photographer to come to the house.”

  Linda gave her mom a hug and went to her room with the letter in hand. She sat down in her overstuffed chair and read the letter again. Blake Barrett seemed to be everything a woman could want in a husband. However, she struggled against the deep scars in her heart left by Lewis Carter. Would she be able to trust Blake? Or any man, for that matter? If she married Blake, would she always live in fear that the day would come when he’d reject her for another woman?

  She wrestled with it for a while, then told herself that just because Lewis had turned out to be a hypocrite didn’t mean Blake would. She felt that she was moving in the right direction by corresponding with Blake, but she knew if things developed seriously between the two of them, she would enter the relationship with some fear. Her scars went deep, and she couldn’t help the emotions they dredged up.

  When two weeks had passed, another letter came from Blake. He had received Linda’s latest letter, along with her photograph. He commented that she was more beautiful than he had imagined, and added that her letters showed him she was just as beautiful on the inside. He explained that the photograph he’d sent was one taken when he graduated from college. Though a few years had passed since then, he assured her he still looked very much the same.

  Linda waited for a few days before writing back, wanting to see his picture before doing so. When another week had passed, and the photograph had not yet arrived, she wrote to tell him so.

  Blake’s return letter said that the photograph must have gotten lost in the mail—something that wasn’t uncommon. He would have another photograph ta
ken as soon as he could and send it to her, but he knew he was ready to get serious. He strongly believed the Lord was leading them together. It was almost Christmas. Would Linda consider coming to California by mid-January in view of becoming his bride?

  When Linda sat down with her parents and discussed Blake’s letter, Nolan said, “Don’t you want to see what Blake looks like, honey, before you commit yourself?”

  Linda chuckled. “I don’t need to see his picture, Daddy. His letters have told me enough about him to know he’s the kind of man who will make a good husband.”

  Nolan grinned mischievously. “But what if he’s real ugly?”

  This time Linda laughed. “I don’t think he is, but even if I’m wrong, it’s what’s inside that counts.”

  “How do you picture him?” Adrienne asked.

  “Oh, about six feet tall. Blond. Blue eyes. Handsome.”

  “Strange. That’s how I’ve pictured him, too.”

  “It’ll be interesting to see how close you girls come to that,” Nolan said.

  “I feel I should write him back and tell him I’m coming,” Linda said. “We’ve gone as far as we can in letters.”

  “I believe you’re right, honey,” Nolan said. “As much as I hate the thought of you going so far away from us, it’s time for you to commit yourself to the courtship. Don’t you think so, Adrienne?”

  Adrienne blinked at the tears welling up in her eyes. “Yes. I feel the Lord is in it. Linda needs to write Blake and tell him she’ll come.”

  “By going in mid-January,” Linda said, “I’ll have a little time yet to get ready.”

  “It’ll be here before you know it,” Nolan replied as he put an arm around her. “We’re going to miss you something awful. But the most important thing is for you to be happy. And that can only be when you’re in the center of God’s will. Let’s look at the calendar and set a date.”

  The next day when Nolan came home from work, he had railroad tickets for Linda’s journey. She would leave on Wednesday, January 16, change trains in Chicago, and arrive in Sacramento on Saturday the 19th.

  That evening Linda wrote a letter to Blake, giving him her departure and arrival dates. She commented that if he was not able to get a picture taken and in her hands before time to leave, it was all right. She was sure she would know him at the depot.

  Blake’s return letter arrived on January 4, containing more than enough money to cover her tickets and travel expenses. He explained in the letter that he had posed for a photograph a few days ago and had hoped to have it to put in this letter. However, when he went to the photographer to pick it up, he was told apologetically that something was wrong with his camera. The picture had not turned out. The photographer had ordered another camera from San Francisco, but it would be several days before he’d receive it. By that time it would be too late to get a picture taken and get it to Linda before departure date. They would find out now if she really could pick him out of a crowd at the Sacramento depot.

  As the days passed and time drew nearer for Linda to depart Boston for Sacramento, she realized just how deep the scars were from Lewis’s betrayal. As excited as she was at the prospect of leaving Boston and finding the husband God had for her, she also felt a deadness inside and wondered if she would ever really be able to fall in love with Blake. She vowed in her heart that if the Lord put them together, she would be a good wife to him.

  On Thursday, December 27, Haman Warner was at his desk at the Pacific Bank and Trust Company when he saw Horace Dodge enter the bank, carrying the canvas bag. Haman had begun to worry that Dodge had changed his routine. It had been several weeks since he’d come in to place cash in his safe-deposit box.

  Warner sprang out of his chair as Dodge drew up. “Good morning, Mr. Dodge. Safe deposit?”

  “That’s right, Haman,” said the older man. “I won’t need it till Monday. I would’ve just left it in the safe at the office if it was only overnight, but I’ll feel better with it in this vault over the weekend.”

  Haman chuckled. “Well, it’s absolutely safe in here, sir.”

  “I have no doubt about that.”

  Moments later, as Horace Dodge left the bank, Haman sat down at his desk, smiling to himself. His plan was in motion.

  On Friday afternoon at quitting time, the bank employees were leaving two and three at a time. Blake Barrett came out of his office to find Haman bent over a stack of papers. Moving up to Haman’s desk, he said, “How about I buy you supper this evening?”

  Haman looked up, ran splayed fingers through his coal black hair, and said, “I’ll have to take you up on it another time, boss. I’ve got to finish these reports before I leave, and it’s going to take me a couple of hours yet. They’ve got to be ready first thing Monday morning.”

  “Okay,” Blake said with a smile. “Maybe one evening next week.”

  “Sure. I’ll plan on it.”

  As they spoke, the last of the employees were going out the door. One of the tellers called back, “Mr. Barrett, should I lock the door?”

  “Don’t bother, Clarence,” said Blake. “I’m right behind you.”

  Haman watched impatiently as Barrett passed through the bank’s front door, then paused and looked back, saying, “See you Monday, Haman.”

  Haman waved. “See you Monday.”

  When the latch on the door clicked, Haman left his desk and rushed to the front of the bank. Inching up to one of the large windows, he peered past the edge, keeping out of sight. After a long moment, he saw Blake pull onto the street in his buggy and drive away.

  Moving swiftly, Haman went back to his desk, took a companion key from a drawer, and went to the vault. It had already been locked by one of the other employees. He smoothly worked the combination and swung the door open. Lighting a small lantern, he carried it inside and went to work on the safe-deposit box belonging to Horace Dodge.

  Using the companion key and a long needle, it took him only a few minutes to open the box. He smiled to himself when he took out the canvas bag lettered on both sides: Sacramento Stockyards Company. He closed the box and whispered gleefully, “What a surprise you’re gonna have Monday morning, Horace ol’ boy! Yeah! And what an even bigger surprise you’re gonna have, Mr. Religious Fanatic Blake Barrett! Even God can’t help you now!”

  On Sunday night, when church services were in progress, Haman was in his apartment. He placed the canvas bag in the same valise he had used when carrying the stolen money home from the bank. “Twelve thousand dollars!” he muttered. “I’d sure like to pocket this money myself, but compared to what the result of this little caper will bring, the twelve thousand is less than peanuts!”

  He broke into a laugh. “Haman, of pal, you will soon be the owner of the Pacific Bank and Trust Company! You 11 be a multimillionaire almost overnight, and Blake Barrett will be a helpless jailbird!”

  There was little traffic on the streets of Sacramento as Haman walked across town, doing his best to stay in the shadows. When he reached the block where Blake’s large house was located, he headed down the alley, continually glancing around to make sure nobody saw him. The coast was clear as he went through the backyard gate.

  He moved stealthily up to the back door and picked the lock. Once inside the house, he took a match and a candle from his pocket and struck the tip of the match with his thumbnail, then touched the flame to the candle. He placed the dead match back in his pocket and started through the house. He must find the perfect place to stash the money.

  Haman knew the ground floor well. He went from room to room, opening cabinets and closet doors, but wasn’t satisfied with any place he found.

  He went upstairs and soon found Blake’s bedroom. As he looked around, he decided anything stashed in there could well be stumbled upon by Blake. When he returned to the hall, a door caught his attention. It was a walk-in storage closet, and something familiar caught his eye.

  An old trunk. This was Blake’s trunk. Haman had seen it when visiting Blake’s apa
rtment. Blake had once told him the trunk contained mementos from his childhood—toys, clothing, school papers, and the like. He had commented that he usually went through the trunk on his birthday each year, reminiscing about his childhood.

  Haman knew Blake’s birthday was almost a month away. He wouldn’t be disturbing the trunk until then.

  On Monday morning, Haman sat at his desk keeping eye on the front door of the bank. Horace Dodge would come to pick up his twelve thousand dollars soon, and when he did, Haman would be too busy to take him inside the vault. He wanted to be at his desk when the theft was discovered.

  It was near eleven o’clock when Dodge entered the bank. Haman’s heart pounded savagely in his chest as Dodge headed straight toward him. Haman had planned to see that Sandy Benton took the man into the vault, but Sandy had customers at her desk. And Hortense Reed was inside Blake’s office.

  Haman picked up some papers off his desk and rose to his feet.

  Dodge drew up at the small gate, smiled, and said, “Good morning, Haman. I need to get into my box.”

  “Oh … uh … sure, Mr. Dodge.” He waved the papers in his hand. “I’ve got someplace to be at the moment, but … uh … I’ll get someone to take you in.”

  As he spoke, the head bookkeeper came from the bookkeeping room. “Hal …” Haman called to him.

  Hal Grainger stopped. “Yes, sir, Mr. Warner?”

  “Mr. Dodge is here to get into his safe-deposit box. Would you mind taking him in?”

  “Of course not,” said the amiable Grainger. “Be glad to.”

  Haman loaned his companion key to Grainger.

  As soon as the two men disappeared into the vault, Haman sat down to wait. He felt a pulse thumping in his temples.

  What was taking so long?