Shine Like the Dawn

by Carrie Turansky

  “I should’ve come home sooner and tried to work out the problems that kept me away.”

  “Why didn’t you come home?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t want to burden you with my troubles.”

  “I’m not a child anymore. You don’t have to try and protect me from the truth. I know you were angry with Father and Mother when you left.”

  “That’s true, but it won’t do any good to raise those issues now. Father and I made our peace before he passed, and I’m glad of it.”

  “What about Mother?”

  Nate took a moment to weigh his words. “Your mother and I still have some matters we need to resolve, but we’ll work through them.”

  “So…you’re not going to make us leave?”

  His gaze darted to meet hers. “No, whatever gave you that idea?”

  She lifted one shoulder. “I know you inherit everything, and Mother and I are not your real family. I thought you might send us away.”

  He sat on the stool next to her chair. “Clara, you are my sister. I promised Father I would look after you and your mother. Morningside is your home, and you will always have a place here as long as you’d like.”

  Her face brightened. “You mean that?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  She lifted her hand to her heart. “Oh, that’s such a relief. I couldn’t stand the thought of leaving Morningside on top of everything else. That’s why I was crying.”

  “I thought it might be because you’re missing Father.”

  Her eyes glistened. “Of course, that too.” She blinked away her tears. “He’d been ill for quite a while, and I tried to prepare myself for his passing, but I didn’t know it would feel like this…so final, so painful.”

  Nate nodded. “No one knows what it’s like to lose a parent until you go through it.”

  She looked at him with the glow of sympathy in her eyes. “And you’ve lost both of yours.”

  He swallowed. “Yes, I have.”

  “Yet you don’t seem broken by it.” She sat back in her chair. “I suppose that’s because you’re a man and you don’t feel things the way women do.”

  Nate suppressed a smile. “I’m not sure about that, but I think men aren’t as willing to show their feelings.”

  “No, I suppose not.”

  “But I did love Father, and I am very sorry we didn’t have more time together.”

  “Yes, I feel the same.” Clara released a weary sigh. “The future seems uncertain without Father, but at least you’re not asking us to leave.”

  “I’m glad I can put that fear to rest.” He smiled as he rose and held out his hand to her. She reached out and took hold, but she ducked her chin, looking embarrassed by the gesture.

  “Now I’ll say good night and wish you peaceful dreams.”

  “Thank you, Nathaniel,” she said softly.

  “I think you should call me Nate.”

  She lifted her head and sent him a tremulous smile. “Very well. Good night, Nate.”

  Maggie looked at her reflection in the mirror on the shop counter and adjusted the small black hat to the proper angle. With a careful touch, she slid a hatpin through the back of the crown. There was a bit of a breeze today, and she didn’t want her hat to fly off across Saint Peter’s churchyard during Mr. Harcourt’s graveside service.

  Grandmother pushed the curtain aside and stepped into the shop. “You look very nice, my dear.”

  “Thank you.” Maggie brushed her hand down the skirt of her black dress and checked her appearance in the mirror once more. “You don’t mind if I wear the hat?”

  “Not at all. Someone might as well get some use out of it.” Grandmother hobbled across the room and stepped behind the glass display case opposite Maggie. “I’m sorry you have to go to the funeral alone.”

  “It’s all right. I don’t mind. Thank you for staying with Violet.”

  Grandmother nodded, her gaze intense. “It’s more important that you go.”

  A prickle of unease traveled through Maggie. What did her grandmother mean by that?

  Grandmother reached across the counter and adjusted the netting on Maggie’s hat. “Be sure to give my condolences to the Harcourts when you speak to them after.”

  Rather than replying, Maggie reached up and touched the cameo pinned at her neck.

  Grandmother’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Have you written to Nathaniel and told him you’ll accept the money?”

  Ah, here was the real point of this conversation. Avoiding her grandmother’s eyes, Maggie stepped away and straightened a light-blue hat on a nearby wooden stand. A week had passed since she’d seen Nate. Her stormy emotions had calmed, but she still couldn’t decide what to do about the money. “I’m sure he’s been busy with family matters and preparing for the funeral.”

  “But you said he was eager to settle the matter.” Grandmother stepped into Maggie’s line of vision. “Why don’t you speak to him today?”

  Maggie walked around the end of the glass case. “I don’t think his father’s funeral is the right time for that discussion.”

  “But if he brings it up, I hope you’re ready to give him your answer.”

  Maggie’s frustration bubbled up in her voice. “Even if it comes up, I don’t know what to say to him.”

  “God will help you. All you have to do is ask.” Grandmother’s tone was gentle, but her words still felt like rough sandpaper rasping across Maggie’s sore heart.

  “The book of James says if anyone lacks wisdom they should ask of God,” Grandmother continued, “and He will give it to them.”

  Maggie almost rolled her eyes, but she didn’t want to hurt her grandmother. Her faith seemed unshakeable. She had a scripture ready for every situation, and she was not shy about sharing them with Maggie or anyone else.

  A sliver of guilt pricked Maggie’s heart. Her parents had been very much like her grandmother, weaving scriptures into their conversation as naturally as they practiced those principles in their daily lives…but in the end, it hadn’t helped them.

  Maggie shook her head. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but I don’t think God hears or answers my prayers.”

  Grandmother leaned toward her. “Oh, Maggie, how can you say such a thing?”

  A lump lodged in Maggie’s throat, and she could barely push out her reply. “How can you even ask me that?”

  Grandmother’s expression softened, and she released a sigh. “I know you’re still carrying a load of hurt from everything that happened to your parents and Olivia, but you’ve got to turn it over to God and let Him carry it for you.”

  The storm inside Maggie swirled into a tempest, and her words rushed out. “You’ve always said God is good and kind, that He answers prayer and watches over those who trust Him, but how can that be true? He could’ve saved my parents and sister, but He closed His heart to their cries and let them drown.” Her voice choked off.

  Grandmother’s hand trembled as she laid it on Maggie’s shoulder. “You’re not the only one who was dealt a terrible blow that day. I lost my daughter, son-in-law, and granddaughter, and it still grieves me. I don’t understand why God allowed it, but I’ve chosen to let Him carry that load and walk with me through my grief.” A tender light filled Grandmother’s eyes. “God hears and answers prayer. Those answers are not always the ones we’d hoped for. But I’ve asked Him to strengthen my faith, and He has met that need time and again. I put my trust in Him, and in return He comforts me and gives me strength to carry on.” She gave Maggie’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “He wants to do the same for you, Maggie.”

  Tears burned Maggie’s eyes, and she blinked them away.

  How could her grandmother just let it all go? It didn’t make sense. It hurt too much. If God heard everyone’s prayers, then surely He’d heard her parents’ calls for help and her own cries for mercy.

  Why didn’t He answer? If He was good and kind, He wouldn’t have let them die. How could she trust a God who allowed such
painful things to happen to her and those she loved?

  A light breeze stirred the air, cooling Nate’s face and giving him a small measure of peace as his gaze took in the somber scene at Saint Peter’s churchyard.

  Only a dozen or so people remained behind after his father’s graveside service; they quietly waited to speak to his stepmother and Clara. He didn’t know most of them, so he stepped away, needing a break from shaking hands with strangers and searching for polite responses to their comments about his father and the funeral service.

  Reverend Avery Samuelson approached Nate. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Harcourt. Your father was certainly a gifted man. He made quite an impact with his inventions and leadership at Clifton Engineering.” His tone was sincere, unlike that of some of the others who had spoken to Nate today.

  “Thank you.” Nate clasped the reverend’s hand with a firm grip. Samuelson had a keen mind and spoke with sincerity and kindness. He was only a few years older than Nate, and though their backgrounds were quite different, Nate sensed a connection with him that could lead to friendship.

  “I hope you’ll let me know if there is anything I can do for you or your family.”

  “I will. I appreciate you conducting the service today. Your message was very meaningful.”

  Samuelson’s solemn expression softened, and his gray eyes glimmered with understanding.

  When they’d met last week to discuss plans for the funeral, Nate had conveyed his stepmother’s wishes, but he’d also added his own, giving the man freedom to craft his message however he saw fit. Nate promised there would be no repercussions if Samuelson spoke clearly about salvation and the promise of heaven for those who received Christ as Savior—and Nate had not been disappointed.

  His stepmother, however, had stiffened like a poker at the mention of life after death and sent Nate a heated look. But Samuelson’s message was caring as well as truthful, and that was what mattered most, at least to Nate.

  The line of mourners waiting to speak to his stepmother finally dwindled. Only Clara and his mother’s cousin, Elizabeth, and Elizabeth’s daughter, Amelia, waited with her. Nate crossed the grass toward them. Samuelson followed, and Nate steeled himself, hoping his stepmother would not be too unkind to the young reverend.

  Helen’s expression hardened as they approached.

  Reverend Samuelson gave a slight bow. “Mrs. Harcourt, your husband was obviously respected and loved by many people. I offer you and your daughter my most sincere condolences.”

  Helen lifted her white lace handkerchief to her nose. “Thank you.” But it was the stiffest and least sincere reply Nate had heard her give all day.

  Samuelson continued, “Please let me know if there is any way I can be of assistance to you and your family in this time of grief.”

  “I sincerely doubt we will be contacting you for any assistance.” Her tone cut like a knife, and she narrowed her eyes. “How could you ignore my wishes and give such a troubling message?”

  Cousin Elizabeth’s eyes widened, and Amelia sent Nate a questioning glance. What could he say? He could have predicted Helen’s response down to the letter.

  Reverend Samuelson blinked and raised his eyebrows. “Troubling?”

  “Yes, I specifically asked for an uplifting message that would ease our grief, not one that would add to it.”

  The reverend’s face flushed, and he paused a few seconds before he replied. “Mrs. Harcourt, I’m sorry you found the message…unsettling. I hope you will allow me to call on you and answer any questions you might have about my comments.”

  She lifted her chin. “That won’t be necessary. I don’t wish to discuss it any further.” She turned away from Samuelson. “We need to return to Morningside. Our guests will be waiting.” She took Clara’s arm and started toward the carriage. Elizabeth and Amelia followed. After taking a few steps, Helen stopped and looked back at Nate. “Are you coming?”

  He dreaded the thought and wished there was some other way he could return to the house. No doubt Helen would make her displeasure known during the entire ride back to Morningside. But it was his duty to accompany them.

  He was about to answer when he spotted Maggie standing at the gate to the churchyard. He’d looked for her at the funeral service, but the church had been crowded with mourners and he hadn’t seen her among them.

  She looked his way, but she came no farther than the gate.

  He shifted his gaze to Helen. “I’ll be along in a few minutes.”

  Helen’s eyes flashed. “But what about our guests? We don’t want them to arrive at the house and find no one there to greet them.”

  “I need to speak to someone.”

  “Who?” Helen squinted across the churchyard. “Is that the Lounsbury girl?” Her lips puckered as though she’d tasted something bitter.

  Irritation shot through him. “Yes, that is Margaret Lounsbury, and if you’ll excuse me, I want to speak to her.”

  Helen huffed. “We’ll wait for you in the carriage. Don’t be long.”

  He strode off without replying.

  Maggie stepped through the gate and walked toward him. She wore a simple black dress, hat, and gloves. The dress’s high neckline, slim waist, and flowing skirt flattered her feminine figure. Once again he was struck by how much Maggie had grown and changed. She was no longer a child, but a lovely young woman. Her position in society might be different now, but at her essence, Maggie was still the same free-spirited and determined girl he knew…and for that, he was grateful.

  She drew near and met his gaze. “I’m truly sorry for your loss.” Her blue-gray eyes searched his, reflecting empathy and some other emotion he couldn’t name.

  “Thank you. I appreciate you coming.” It was the standard reply he had given so many times today, but this time he actually meant it.

  “I wanted to come,” she said softly. “I remember what it’s like.”

  He nodded, touched by her caring words and comforted by the knowledge of their shared experiences.

  She pressed her lips together and looked down. “I haven’t properly thanked you for stopping to help Violet the day of the accident. I appreciate what you did.”

  “No thanks needed. I was glad to do it.”

  Her gaze shifted to his father’s grave and then back to Nate. “I’m sorry it delayed you from seeing your father.”

  He glanced away, considering her words. When he’d stopped to assist Violet, he hadn’t realized how little time his father had left; still, he was glad he’d been there that day. “It was no trouble. How is Violet? I hope her recovery is going well.”

  “It is.” She hesitated and glanced around, her hands tightly clasped and her brow creased. Was she remembering their last conversation and the unresolved issue between them? “I hope your last visit to the shop didn’t keep you from seeing your father that day.”

  “I spoke to him earlier that morning before I came to the village.”

  Sorrow clouded her eyes. “I hope you had time to say everything you wanted.”

  He swallowed and nodded. “I did, and I’m grateful for it.”

  The horses stirred, and he looked over his shoulder. Helen and Elizabeth had climbed into the carriage, but Amelia and Clara waited by the door. Helen looked out the window and sent Nate an impatient frown.

  He turned back to Maggie. Her gaze was fixed on Clara and his cousin. Then she looked his way with questions in her eyes.

  His face warmed. “That’s my cousin Amelia with Clara. We have a luncheon planned at the house for the out-of-town guests.”

  Disappointment clouded her eyes, and she stepped back. “Of course.” Her voice turned cool. “I don’t want to keep you.”

  “Excuse me, Mr. Harcourt.” The coachman approached with a wary expression. “I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but Mrs. Harcourt is eager to return to Morningside. She asks that you join her as soon as possible.” He stepped back but waited nearby.

  “I should go.” He leaned toward her and lower
ed his voice. “But I hate to leave with things so unsettled between us.”

  Her eyes widened. She pressed her lips together and looked down. Was she unwilling to discuss the issues that separated them, or did she simply feel this wasn’t the right time or place? Either way, her silence left him no choice. He would have to wait to settle matters with Maggie.

  He touched the brim of his hat and nodded to her. “Good-bye, Maggie.” Then he turned and strode away.

  His shoulders sagged as he walked toward the carriage. He not only grieved the loss of his father and all that meant; his stepmother’s abrasive attitude was wearing him thin and making everything more difficult. But worst of all, one of his oldest and dearest friends was barely speaking to him, and there seemed little he could do to change her mind.

  Father, please help me carry these burdens and find the right path forward. I can’t do this on my own. I need You.

  Maggie stepped through the back door of the shop, removed her hat, and pulled off her gloves. With a weary sigh, she crossed to the sink and filled a glass with water.

  She’d spent the entire walk home from the funeral replaying her conversation with Nate, and now her head throbbed and her stomach felt queasy.

  She knew how painful it was to lose a parent, and she felt sorry for Nate, truly she did. But that didn’t mean she could forget the way he and his family had been so uncaring toward her and Violet after the boating accident.

  They never should have sold all her family’s belongings and sent her and her sister away to Scotland. It wasn’t right. Nate should have stood up to his parents and at least attended the funeral for her family members.

  Perhaps now Nate would realize what a great loss she’d suffered and regret the way he’d ignored her pleas for help in her time of need.

  She took a sip of water. Of course she wanted him to understand the way he’d hurt her and ask her forgiveness, but this wasn’t how she’d wanted him to learn that lesson. He’d looked exhausted, and it was obvious his stepmother was making matters painfully hard for him.

  The image of his pretty blond cousin, waiting by the carriage with Clara, flitted across her mind, and she stilled. Did she live nearby? It was strange he’d never mentioned her before. What did she think of Nate? And a more important question—what did Nate think of her?