Joy on This Mountain (A Prairie Heritage, Book 2)

by Kestell, Vikki

  She smiled for him and saw his blue, blue eyes brighten with love. His lips moved and she leaned toward them to catch his words.

  “My little Rose.”

  “Yes, Jan!”

  Then he closed his eyes and sighed . . .

  The morning dawned cold but still. As the sun rose, it revealed a fresh jacket of frost coating the fields as far as the eye could see. Sunlight reflected off the frost, and Joy closed her eyes against the brilliance of a million glittering, shimmering diamonds.

  Down the road, beginning at the Thoresen family cemetery, past the Thoresen houses, barns, and cornfields, over the creek, and beyond Jan and Rose’s farm, the line of mourners stretched. They arrived in wagons, buggies, and motor cars and stood quietly beside their vehicles.

  Six young men carried Jan from his home that morning. The bearers were some of the men of the community whom Jan had taught and mentored from their teen years into godly manhood. They bore Jan’s simple coffin from the house in which he and Rose had lived and loved to the bridge that stretched over the creek.

  At the bridge they surrendered their precious burden to Jan’s six oldest grandsons and great-nephews. Down the road, past the lined mourners they marched, holding themselves gravely erect, most with tears dropping off their trembling young chins.

  Finally, at the gate to the Thoresen homestead, they yielded this honor to the men with whom Jan had shared the closest bonds: Søren, Karl, Kjell, Arnie, Jacob Medford, and Brian McKennie.

  Rose and Joy followed closely behind the procession, accompanied by Sigrün, Uli, Meg, Anna, Kjell and Karl’s wives, Fiona McKennie, Vera Medford, and dozens of grandchildren, grand-nieces and -nephews, and their families.

  As the family passed, the mourners lining the road fell in behind them. Joy cast a look back. She realized that every family for miles around was probably present or represented. Her heart swelled with pride and gratitude.

  At the entrance of the Thoresen cemetery they paused. The bearers entered and the family followed. The rest of the swelling crowd gathered around the iron fence that bounded the Thoresen plot.

  Joy swallowed when she saw the mound of earth heaped at the head of an empty grave. She and Rose drew near and gratefully sank down on chairs that had been provided. While they waited for everyone to settle, Joy held her mama’s hand and looked at the headstones next to where her father would be buried.

  To the left: Elli Katrin Thoresen

  Papa’s first wife.

  To the right: Kristen Maria Thoresen

  Papa’s first daughter.

  Her papa’s body would rest there until Jesus called him at the last trumpet. Rose and Søren and Joy had read that passage together from 1 Corinthians 15 the night before.

  Behold, I shew you a mystery;

  We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed,

  In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye,

  at the last trump: for the trumpet shall sound,

  and the dead shall be raised incorruptible,

  and we shall be changed.

  For this corruptible must put on incorruption,

  and this mortal must put on immortality.

  We shall be changed, Joy pondered. And this mortal must put on immortality.

  With a start, Joy realized that there was no place for Mama near Papa! Where would she be buried? Then, at the thought of someday also losing her mother, Joy quickly pushed those thoughts away.

  She sought out other headstones nearby: Aunt Amalie, beside her husband, Karl. Several tiny graves: a daughter Søren and Meg had lost in her first year and the two infants Karl and his wife had lost in childbirth.

  What had Papa meant when he said “I bless your children. The Lord will give?” Joy did not understand. She wiped a tear from her cheek. Rose turned to her and squeezed her hand.

  “I love you, dear daughter,” was all she said.

  “I love you, Mama,” she returned.

  Jacob Medford began to read from the Bible.

  Jesus said unto her,

  I am the resurrection, and the life:

  he that believeth in me,

  though he were dead, yet shall he live:

  And whosoever liveth and believeth in me

  shall never die. Believest thou this?

  She saith unto him,

  Yea, Lord: I believe that thou art the Christ,

  the Son of God,

  which should come into the world.

  The Christ! The Son of God! Thank you, Lord, for the hope of the resurrection, Joy prayed, rejoicing even in her sorrow.

  Joy had a sudden thought. I wonder if Papa and Grant can see each other? Then she thought, They are both waiting for us . . . safe in Jesus. I’m so glad!

  Pastor Medford finished his message and prayed, his voice cracking a little, “Now Lord, we ask you to receive your servant, Jan.”

  He looked around at the family and the mourners and, with tears streaming down his face, declared in a strong, loud voice, “Jan Thoresen, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord!”

  Everyone had gone at last and Joy and Rose were alone. The house seemed . . . bare, soulless . . . without Papa. Joy wondered how her mama would ever be able to sleep in their bed again without Papa. She couldn’t help but remember the long nights without Grant.

  Mother and daughter sat close together before the fire and Rose began to ask Joy about Corinth, the lodge, and the girls they had helped escape. She asked about Joy and Uli’s hopes to establish something larger and more effective in Denver. She listened carefully as Joy described the ideas she and Uli had discussed.

  “We will need a home, perhaps two, with enough bedrooms to accommodate the girls as they leave their old lives. It will be difficult for them to envision a hopeful future—not just to escape those who kept them in bondage, but to also escape the memories and the shame.”

  “I will seek some mature women who know God’s Word and who can mother these girls, lead them in Bible study, and help them to see themselves the way God sees them when Jesus covers not just our sin but our shame also.”

  “And businesses. The girls will need new skills and honest employment if they are to truly leave their old lives. We will certainly open the fine furnishings shop first. Then perhaps a small café, a sewing school, and dress and millinery shops, places of training first and then gainful employment. Uli has suggested that we could even solicit scholarships to send those with aptitude and desire to business school, nursing programs, even teaching . . .”

  “In even the most basic of decisions these women may require gentle encouragement and support. After all, choice is something that was taken from them entirely. It is a freedom they have not exercised in some time.”

  She finally stopped and looked at Rose. “So much to do, Mama. I know how to run a business, and I believe we can turn profits on every one of our ventures, but even with a profit, we will need to raise more money than I have. The need is very great. Mrs. Van der Pol and her friends, like Grace Minton, will certainly assist us, but it will be a large work, so much more than I can afford and manage on my own. And . . . we will face terrible opposition from some corners.”

  “Come spring in Corinth I hope to find a way to communicate with the girls in the houses. That may be the most dangerous part. We know this ‘Dean Morgan’ and his hired thugs may retaliate if they find us out.” Her expression darkened. “If God would grant me this, I would hope to see those houses where such evil is practiced closed down forever.”

  “So there are significant risks . . . and not merely to the money you have invested.” Rose searched her daughter’s face.

  Joy leaned forward and whispered, “Yes, so we must be careful but also prepared. Not to strike back, for that is not God’s way. But as Jesus said, we must be ‘wise as serpents and harmless as doves.’”

  She took a deep breath and made the decision to confide in her mother. Trembling, she revealed the dream she’d had and the intricate plan she felt the Lord had led her to formula
te.

  “Are you sure, Joy?” Rose stared soberly at her daughter. “All those details . . . things I don’t readily follow . . . and the expense of it. Money you surely need elsewhere?”

  Joy bowed her head for a moment. “No, Mama, I can’t be sure, so I have prepared in the manner I have described to you. But I believe the Lord led me to do so. Standing for those defenseless women in Corinth poses great risk and our only defense is the Lord . . . so is the cost of obedience too much? Mustn’t I obey him if I feel he has given me guidance?”

  Rose took Joy’s hand and squeezed it firmly. “Yes, yes you must! I know what it is to hear the Lord tell me to do something daring and dangerous. I am proud—and I know that Papa is proud—that you are careful to obey the Lord, Joy.”

  Joy looked into the fire. “I can think of no greater honor than to help these girls reclaim their lives and their futures.”

  She paused. “Mama, you and Papa gave me a legacy of faith—a heritage I am proud to own. Both of you passed it to me as your daughter and to Søren as your son. I have no children of my own . . . yet I am now the holder of that legacy. My faith in the Lord stirs me to pass that great gift on, to give that heritage to spiritual daughters since I have none of my own. I feel that I must, that I must give to these girls the hope I have found.”

  “I almost feel . . .” Her voice tapered off.

  Rose leaned toward her. “Yes? What is it, Joy?”

  Joy laughed self-consciously. “You may think I’m over-spiritualizing this.”

  “Try me,” Rose smiled back.

  “Well.” Joy was silent a long moment. “I feel very strongly, Mama. I feel that everything I have gone through, everything I lost, and the things I had to endure and overcome prepared me for a great work for God. A work I can give my all to.” She spoke softly, almost in a whisper.

  “I have lived through a fiery trial and, by God’s grace, have survived. Through that fire, I have tested God and found him faithful, but he has tested me, too—tested my trust in him. I have come full circle, into something that is no longer only yours and Papa’s, but my very own.”

  “I mean, I knew Jesus before but now I have found him anew, in a more complete and ‘adult’ way, perhaps. Now I have my own confidence in him. And in knowing him so dearly, so intimately, I feel that I have received a call on my life. One that I would never have heard, let alone answered . . . before.”

  She looked at her mother, tears shimmering in her eyes. “I am called to give my life to this work, Mama. No matter what it costs, I must follow this through.”

  Rose nodded. “I bear witness to that call on you, Joy. And, if you will have me, I will join you. I will come and help mother these young women.”

  Joy sat up in shock. “Mama! How can you? This is your home—you could never leave this place where you and Papa lived together—where he is buried!”

  Shaking her head, Rose declared softly, “Joy, your papa isn’t here anymore. I don’t want to be alone in this house with only memories. I have fulfilled my purpose here. Now I must follow where my Lord leads me, just as you must.”

  She smiled wryly. “Joy, you perhaps do not know . . . that I have a little money. My first husband left me well off. Your papa and I have lived simply all these years and the money has only grown. That money will be yours one day—shouldn’t we invest it where it will produce eternal dividends?”

  “But Mama, you must think ahead. Now that Papa is gone . . . you must not risk so much!”

  Rose looked back from her own tears. “Ah, Joy. I suppose it is possible I could lose some or all of my substance, but what is that, in comparison with the legacy we can both hand down to these young women? No, I have had quite a bit of time this last year to pray on where and how I would live after Papa went to heaven. I have only been waiting for the Lord to bring the circumstances to light.”

  She straightened resolutely. “I will help you buy the homes we need and start the businesses to employ our girls, Joy. What I have is not enough to do all, but God will provide what is lacking.”

  They clasped hands and Rose vowed, “I am with you, Joy. I am with you heart and soul.”

  ~~**~~

  Chapter 34

  Joy was still in RiverBend helping her mother sort through her things and make the difficult choices of what to keep and what to give away. Rose had made her mind up to accompany Joy when she returned to Corinth.

  In Corinth at the lodge, things were running smoothly enough. On Sunday morning the household dressed and left for church as usual, all except Mei-Xing, of course, and O’Dell. O’Dell, who did not attend church and who usually stayed at the lodge on Sunday mornings, was feeling a bit stifled with the extra responsibility. What he wanted today was some fresh air and breathing room.

  He had so perfected his British persona in Corinth that the townspeople had taken him for granted—which is just what he had intended. He carried his shotgun and could be seen bringing back game to the lodge on a daily basis. It was the perfect cover.

  As the churchgoers left, he sent Mei-Xing to the third floor and grabbed his shotgun. Blackie whined and scratched at the door so he attached a leash and set out for a walk to clear his head and give the puppy some leash training.

  The three men hiding within the trees near the lodge waited until he was out of earshot to try the lodge’s back door. It was locked as expected, but one of them gave a nod. The reinforced frame splintered under the repeated impact of a heavy boot.

  Once inside, Banner sent Darrow and another man upstairs to search the bedrooms. He remained downstairs and sauntered through the kitchen into the great room. He examined with interest the furnishings and looked for any tell-tale sign that Morgan’s flighty “Little Plum Blossom” or the two other girls, Tory and Helen, were hiding or had been hidden within the lodge.

  Mei-Xing heard the crash as the kitchen door broke under Darrow’s boot. She froze momentarily. Then treading softly to the apartment’s door she opened it a crack and heard the clomping of boots marching up the stairs.

  With a shudder, she closed the door quietly and scanned the apartment’s little sitting room. She had been sipping a hot cup of tea—she dumped it quickly into a house plant near Joy’s window. Taking the warm cup with her she pulled open the sofa hiding place and crawled inside. As she tugged the lid closed she heard the two men open the door of the apartment.

  “Looks like the women live up here,” one man said. He kicked open Marit’s door. “Got a baby bed in this ’un.”

  The other man only grunted and she heard him enter first Breona’s and then Joy’s room. “One room for each of the three women. No extra beds.”

  She recognized Darrow’s voice immediately and began to tremble. Clamping her hand over her mouth she stilled the whimper that threatened to spill from her. At that moment she felt the lid move above her!

  Darrow slouched on the built-in sofa and stared around the apartment looking for clues. All the rooms on the second floor were empty and perfectly arranged, except for the one that the English gent used. The rest were obviously waiting for guests. He snorted. Like they would have guests this time of year, what with the blizzards and several feet of snow!

  He studied the apartment and tried to figure where they would hide the little China doll . . . because he knew in his very bones that they were hiding her. Either that or they had somehow used magic to spirit her off the blasted mountain!

  “Toss those beds in there, Bob.”

  He heard the other man overturning the mattresses and pulling the bedsteads away from the walls. For good measure, Bob pulled out drawers and dumped their contents and opened the wardrobes and pulled the clothes from them, dropping them on the floor and then walking on them.

  “Nuthin’, Mr. Darrow.”

  Darrow’s eyes narrowed. The only upside to this failure was that Morgan wasn’t going to skin him with that . . . look, that calm yet menacing look. No, Banner would be on the hot seat for that one.

  “Let’s go.
” He and the other man stomped back down the stairs. They stopped again on the second floor and deliberately tossed the beds as they had on the third floor. Most of the wardrobes and dressers were empty, but Darrow had Bob pull out the drawers and drop them on the floor anyway.

  When O’Dell returned from his walk—carrying the puppy who had run out of steam an hour ago—the kitchen door was standing ajar, dangling at an odd angle, one bent hinge ripped from the splintered frame. Choking on curses of self-recrimination and worry, he set the dog down outside and cocked the shotgun he carried.

  Blackie, anxious to be inside, pushed at his legs. O’Dell, not unkindly, used his foot to firmly hold him back. He shot a cursory look around the kitchen then opened the pantry and nudged the pup inside. The great room seemed undisturbed.

  With trepidation he mounted the stairs, stopping on the second floor landing to listen carefully. He heard nothing but the creaking and popping of the house in the cold air.

  Silent as a cat, he crept up the stairs to the attic apartment. Here he found destruction—broken chairs and vases, a potted plant and its soil strewn across the carpet. The three bedrooms, wrecked.

  Standing in the middle of the sitting room he whispered, “Mei-Xing! It’s O’Dell.”

  Nothing.

  A cold hand gripped his heart.

  He was about to open the hiding spot himself when the lid slowly rose. He yanked it open and lifted her out and then put an arm about her shaking shoulders. “It’s all right, little one. They’re gone.”

  Mei-Xing looked around at the destruction and then up at O’Dell with brimming eyes. “It was Darrow. And two other men.” She bowed her head. “This is my fault. All I do is bring ruin wherever I go.”

  O’Dell emphatically shook his head. “No, you’re wrong. This is my fault. I allowed myself to become complacent and I broke my own rule. I left you alone.”