The Heart of Thornton Creek

by Bonnie Leon

  “It’s the same thing we all eat. It’s just cut into small bites so you can swallow. We don’t want you choking.” Rebecca sat on the chair beside the bed and set the tray on the bed stand. She lifted Bertram’s folded arms and set them at his side, then unfolded a napkin and lay it over his chest. “Do you need the pillows propped up more?”

  “No. I’m fine. And I’ll feed myself, thank ya.”

  “Good for you.” Rebecca placed the fork in his hand, then held the plate in front of him.

  His arm shaking, Bertram clumsily maneuvered a lifeless-looking hand toward the plate. He pushed the fork into a pile of mashed potatoes, then directed it toward his mouth. Before it made it there, however, the fork and potatoes dropped into his lap.

  “Merciful—”

  “Now, Mr. Thornton, I know you don’t want to use the Lord’s name in vain.” Rebecca quickly picked up the fork. “Try again.”

  Setting his mouth, Bertram asked, “Why not curse him? He’s done little for me.”

  “Why, he’s given you so much. Look at this home, the land, and your family . . .”

  “My family? My son left and then died half a world away, Daniel doesn’t have enough bristle in him to oversee this place, and you . . . well, ya’ve been a thorn in my side since ya got ’ere.”

  “I never meant to be a thorn,” Rebecca said. “I must say, I’ve done my best to get along, and I’ve put up with the likes of you.”

  “Yer an ungrateful wretch, that’s what ya are. Ya come ’ere with yer high and mighty ways figuring ya didn’t have to listen to the likes of me or anyone else. I’d say yer a spoiled brat and a shame to yer own father. No wonder he shipped ya off.”

  “I beg your pardon, sir. You know my father is dead. He was a fine man who loved me very much.” She choked back tears. “I tried my best to learn your ways—while you wagged your finger at me, I might add. I couldn’t do anything right; nothing suited you.”

  “Yer husband should have throttled ya.”

  “And if I had, then what would you have done?” Daniel asked, striding into the room.

  “Well, if ya had she might have listened to ya, lad.”

  “Why would she do that? You did everything in your power to usurp my authority. I have no influence in this house.”

  “Nor should ya.”

  Daniel stared at his father, then said sternly, “I’ve had enough of your overbearing, oppressive rule. And I demand your respect for me and for my wife. You’re not to say another unkind word to her. She’s been at your bedside for weeks, and I’ve yet to see a kindness or hear a word of thanks from you.”

  “I owe ’er nothing. She spat on me and my family when she went off and got herself pregnant by another man!”

  “I didn’t. I was never unfaithful to Daniel. And I won’t stay here and listen to your accusations.” Humiliated, Rebecca turned and marched out.

  “You won’t speak to her that way, never again. Nor will you speak to me in that manner. I’ve listened to you roar at us for too many years. I don’t see anywhere in the Scriptures that Jesus Christ ever bellowed. If he were standing ’ere now, you’d have good cause to be ashamed. He may be the reason you’re in this bed. You needed humbling.” Daniel gripped the bedpost with his right hand. “I’ll not pity you. In that bed or not, your tyrannical behavior will stop. I won’t allow it.”

  “You won’t allow it?”

  Years of hurt and frustration flowed from deep inside Daniel. He ignored his father’s interruption and continued, “All these years Mum’s stood by you while you whipped us with the belt and with your tongue. And it wasn’t just Elton and me. You may not have used a belt on Mum, but you might as well have. I see nothing in God’s Word that allows a man to mistreat his wife.”

  “I never—”

  “It says,” Daniel said loudly, “a man is to love his wife as Christ loves the church. Have you ever thought over just what that means? It was my own wife who helped me see the verse. You best be contemplating the Lord’s words.

  “I believe your behavior to be a far greater sin than mistakes made by those who try to do their best in life. An error in judgment is far different than a deliberate act of cruelty. I won’t make excuses for you any longer.”

  “Ya’ll mind yer manners. The Bible says—”

  “Right. The Bible says. Over the years so much of what you’ve pounded into me and what you’ve done has been founded on the words of the Good Book, but you’ve misquoted and misused those words. No more. You’ll stop, or Rebecca and I will leave. And you’ll not have anything to do with us or your grandchild. Which, by the way, I’m certain is your grandchild.” He took a step closer to his father. “I believe Rebecca. I love ’er, and if it comes down to it, I’ll let go of you and this station to keep ’er.”

  “Then yer a fool!”

  “Maybe so, but I rather think you’re the fool.”

  Bertram tried to push himself upright, but his arms failed him and he slumped back. Weakly he hollered, “Ya dishonor me. Yer to honor yer father.”

  His tone firm, Daniel said, “Yes, honor thy father.” He settled serious eyes on Bertram. “You have not honored the Father.”

  With that, Daniel turned and walked out, his step light for a man who may have just lost his inheritance. However, Daniel knew he’d finally laid hold of something far more significant—himself.

  27

  Daniel walked into the parlor. “I’m sorry about that. The old duffer’s just in one of his moods.”

  Old duffer? Rebecca had never heard Daniel refer to his father in such a disparaging way. “No need to apologize,” she said.

  “I expect he’ll be a bit better from now on . . . after our little . . . chat.”

  “I’ll go back up, then. He might need me.”

  “He doesn’t deserve you, you know. Then, neither do I.”

  Puzzled at Daniel’s compassionate tone and personal manner, Rebecca responded to his first comment. “I’m just doing my part to help. And sometimes I get angry. He can still set me off.”

  Daniel chuckled. “He can set off just about anybody.”

  Rebecca settled dark eyes on her husband. “Daniel, God’s changed my heart toward your father. He’s given me a look at who Bertram Thornton really is. And he’s not so difficult to love.”

  Daniel seemed taken aback for a moment, then said, “Sometimes it’s difficult to remember his attributes, eh?” More seriously he added, “He’s been hard on you, Rebecca.”

  “God didn’t say we’re to love only those who love us in return, but we’re to love even our enemies.” As she said the words, Rebecca couldn’t forget the bitterness she harbored toward Daniel. That’s different, she told herself, then said briskly, “I better go on up.”

  Rebecca stopped at Bertram’s door, took a deep breath, and tried to clear her thoughts of Daniel. It was Bertram she needed to think about. She doubted he had long to live, and she’d started to believe that in spite of his knowledge and his prayers, he didn’t truly know God but rather knew about him.

  Grasping the doorknob, she prayed, Place the right words in my mouth, Lord. May I say only what you allow.

  Rebecca walked into the room, and Bertram acted as if he hadn’t heard her come in. He lay rigid, staring at the ceiling. Finally he asked, “What are ya doing here? I don’t want ya.”

  “I know. And that’s all right. I won’t say a word. I’ll just sit here and read. If you need anything let me know.”

  “I want ya out. Now.” His voice sounded raspy and weak.

  Rebecca walked to the desk and picked up Bertram’s Bible. He hadn’t touched it for many days. “I know I said I’d be quiet, but there’s something that needs to be said. It seems to me you’ve read this book many times, correct?”

  “The Bible? Right. Ya know I have.”

  “But you haven’t read it lately.”

  He didn’t answer.

  “God loves you. Do you know that?”

  “Don’t try ta teac
h me. I know that Bible better than ya ever will.”

  “I’m sure you do.” Rebecca walked toward the bed. “But do you know the author?”

  Bertram looked flabbergasted. “What are ya trying to say? Of course I know the author.”

  “All these years you’ve been studying and doling out your ‘wisdom,’ but you missed the most important part of God’s Word—his heart. He loves in a way no living creature can. He wants you to know that love, to understand that he created you out of love, and he wants you to be like him by loving others.”

  “I do my best,” Bertram said, tight lipped. He glanced at the Bible. “He’s also a God of wrath. He punishes those who disobey his Word. And he’s not always charitable—if he were, then why am I in this bed? I’m a righteous man. I don’t deserve this.”

  “I don’t know why this happened, but I do know God is sovereign and allows what he chooses to allow. His Word says he sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust.”

  Bertram didn’t respond.

  Rebecca sat in the chair beside the bed and opened the Bible to John 3:16. “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” She turned to Romans. “For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come. Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

  She let the book rest on her lap. “His love is so great that nothing can separate us from it. I can’t comprehend such a love. Can you?”

  “I know the verses. Ya don’t have to read them to me.” Bertram scowled.

  “Bertram Thornton,” Rebecca said in a tone a mother might use when correcting a naughty child, “God is speaking to you. But you haven’t been listening, not for years.”

  Bertram opened his mouth to respond, but Rebecca cut in.

  “You’ve been reading this book like it’s a book. It’s more than that; it’s God’s Word, his very words spoken to us.” Reverence filled her voice. “God speaking to us,” she said in little more than a whisper.

  “It pains me to see you suffer, but I can’t help but wonder if you’re in this bed because God is trying to get your attention.”

  Bertram jutted out his lower jaw.

  Rebecca set the Bible on the bed stand. “I suggest you spend time reading, only this time use your heart, not your mind.” She stood and walked out.

  Callie had been watching from the doorway, and when Rebecca moved past her, she followed. “Miss,” she said. “What is that yer sayin’ ta Mr. Thornton? I don’t understand yer lovin’ him when he’s been so cruel ta ya.”

  Rebecca stopped. She pressed her back against the wall and closed her eyes a moment. “I know you don’t understand. I’m not sure I do. All I can say is that I feel God’s presence. And he’s telling me and showing me how to love Mr. Thornton. He has shown me his heart. There is so much more to Mr. Thornton than what he says. He’s not cruel, not really.” She smiled.

  “I still don’t understand.”

  “I’m sinful, you’re sinful, we’re all sinners, including Bertram Thornton. And yet God loves me and you, and Bertram. And we’re to love others in the same way.” She looked at Callie. “It’s not me you see, but God in me.”

  Callie walked toward Bertram’s room, shaking her head. “I think yer crazy, mum.”

  “Maybe I am,” Rebecca said and walked toward the staircase.

  A few minutes later Callie showed up in the parlor. She looked distraught.

  Rebecca set the book she was reading in her lap. Willa glanced up from her mending. “What is it?” she asked, her voice tight.

  “Mum, Mr. Thornton says I can’t come into his room no more. He said only you and Woodman can help him now.”

  “Oh dear. I’ll go on up,” Willa said setting her sewing in a basket.

  Rebecca’s heart sank. He hadn’t heard what she’d said. Would he ever?

  Although Bertram wanted only Willa and Woodman to care for him, he spent countless hours reading his Bible. Willa said it seemed as if he were seeing it for the first time and delighting in newly discovered verses.

  Five days after Bertram refused all visitors except Willa and Woodman, Willa joined Rebecca on the veranda and dropped into a chair with a sigh.

  “You look weary. I’m worried about you.”

  “No need. I’m fine.” She closed her eyes and clasped her hands in her lap.

  “You and Woodman need help. Can’t you convince Mr. Thornton to allow Callie and me to assist you?”

  “No. I’m sure not. Something is happening to him, and it’s important, so important he trusts his emotions only with the two people he’s closest to. He reads and reads his Bible, then stops to pray. Sometimes he catches my hand and reads me a verse, his voice filled with wonderment.” Tears pooled in her eyes. “I haven’t seen him like this, not ever.”

  Rebecca smiled. “It’s happening. His eyes have been opened, and he’s discovering God.”

  “But he’s known the Lord for years.”

  “I don’t think so, Willa. He knew about God.”

  Willa kicked off her shoes and wiggled her toes. “Whatever is happening, it’s good. He’s enthralled.”

  “And his health? How is it?”

  “Oddly, deteriorating. He grows thinner and weaker every day.” She took a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. “I don’t know that I can bear his going. He’s always seemed indomitable. I was certain I’d be the first to go.”

  Rebecca reached for Willa’s hand and gently squeezed it. There was nothing she could say to ease her pain.

  The following day Bertram sent for the minister. For hours the two men closed themselves off in Bertram’s room. When the reverend came downstairs, he looked as if he’d been weeping.

  “Is everything all right?” Willa asked.

  “Yes, fine. Bertram’s in good hands.” He settled compassionate eyes on Willa. “He moves closer to the Creator every moment. He wants you.”

  “Oh,” Willa said, a fluttering hand resting on her throat. “Could someone send for Daniel?”

  “I will,” Rebecca said.

  Willa was the only person with Bertram when he died. It was a bittersweet moment. “Bertram was ready to meet his Savior,” she said, managing to maintain an appearance of serenity.

  Sadly, Daniel didn’t arrive in time to say farewell, but Willa assured him his father loved him and had been proud of him.

  All that day an unearthly hush hung over the house. Willa and Rebecca made arrangements.

  At the burial Willa, though obviously grieved, remained composed. Daniel stood at her side. When they walked to the burial site, Willa leaned against him. Rebecca walked close behind.

  “He’s with God,” Willa said. “At the end he was filled with hope and love.”

  Rebecca took comfort in her words. She’d prayed for just that.

  A man Rebecca had seen but had never been introduced to walked up to her. He said, “Ya should ’ave stayed in America where ya belong. He’d still be with us if ya ’ad.”

  “He’s roight,” Elvina muttered as Rebecca walked past her.

  Willa slowed and took Rebecca’s hand. “Don’t listen, dear. They’re speaking out of grief.”

  Rebecca knew it was more than that. She’d seen contempt on many people’s faces. They blamed her for Bertram’s death. They hated her. She kept her eyes lowered and looked at the ground.

  When they reached the grave site, Cambria joined her and placed an arm about her shoulder. She offered a smile. “I’ve been prayin’ for ya and the rest of the family. It’s a crushin’ weight when someone ya love dies. I’m so sorry.”

  Rebecca rested a hand over her friend’s. “Bless you, Cambria.”

  She looked at the casket, and her eyes pooled with tears. How was it possible that a man like Bertram was dead? He’d seemed invin
cible. Now all that was left of him in this world was a decaying body laid out in a box. The person, the man Bertram had been, lived on, only now he was in God’s presence. It all seemed such a mystery.

  The minister said that those who might like to say something in reverence to Bertram should do so. Many spoke up, telling stories about their youth, or the times he’d paid to cover a lost crop, or the days he’d shown up with needed food or supplies. It seemed Bertram had been a very generous and thoughtful man.

  No wonder the people love him, Rebecca thought.

  When the last person had finished speaking, the minister shared his insights about Bertram. He talked of his life, his dedication to the people in the district, his family, and his commitment to the accurate teaching of God’s Word, as well as his love of Australia and especially of Douloo Station.

  After pausing and taking a quieting breath, he continued, “On the day of his death, Bertram asked me to his home. His heart was troubled. He asked that what he shared with me remain confidential until this moment.”

  Mourners grew silent. Wind whispered across the open plains, and a bird trilled.

  Even in death he must have the last word, Rebecca thought.

  “Bertram knew his Bible. And all these years he believed that it was all he needed,” the reverend said. “Not until the end of his life did he realize it wasn’t enough and he met his loving Lord and Savior.

  “By the power of the Holy Spirit, his sin was revealed to him. He asked that I share with you, family and friends, what he discovered about himself and about God.

  “Many years ago, he set out to be a help to this community and to take good care of his family, but he lost his way. In his final days he realized that he’d taken on the role of a god, deciding what was right and what was wrong for everyone, including me.” The reverend grinned. “He had a bit of a habit of revising my sermons.

  “The day he died he asked for my forgiveness and yers.” The minister shook his head. “He was a good and wise man, and told me that he’d shortchanged the work of the Holy Spirit in yer lives, expecting ya to listen to and obey him rather than the Lord.”