by Lori Wick
Luke remembered a time in his life when, in his teen years, church had not been one of his favorite places. Caroline, he had to admit, seemed more interested in him than in the sermon. He couldn't help but feel a bit flattered until he remembered how easily the minister had made it to think of anything besides the sermon. He was still praying about writing her, his heart still very unsure of his
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feelings for her. He also prayed he would not feel desperate-that his wanting a wife so badly wouldn't cloud his mind and make him forget that God's will was more important than his own. Once again, as Luke surrendered his will to God's a peace settled over his troubled heart. He knew without a doubt that if God had a wife for him and he left the choosing in His hands, everything would be perfect.
In town Grandma Em and Christine were also finished with supper. Settled in the parlor, Christine picked up some mending and Grandma Em chose a book. Grandma Em had held her tongue all evening even though she could tell something was bothering Christine. After pretending to read for a full five minutes, she gave up and plunged in.
"Christine, you seem a bit quiet this evening. I hope you're not coming down with something."
"No, Grandma Em, I'm fine." They both knew this wasn't true.
Grandma Em plunged in again, praying she wasn't being too pushy. "Was the letter you received today from home?"
"Yes." Grandma Em watched an expression she couldn't quite define pass over Christine's face.
"Would you like to talk about it?" Grandma Em was surprised when Christine didn't even hesitate.
"It's rather complicated, Grandma Em. You see, I didn't leave Spooner under the best of circumstances. Being here, working and getting drawn into your family a little more each week, sometimes causes me to forget that there are things at home that need to be settled." Christine paused here, and the emotion on her face became clear to Emily. Fear! Christine searched Grandma Em's face intently before continuing hesitantly. "The woman who wrote me, a woman I trust, advised me to stay here for the time being... and, well, we've never discussed how long you need me. If
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this is a temporary arrangement or..." her voice trailed off.
Grandma Em's eyes flooded with tears. When she could speak, her voice was very soft. "Were it in my power, Christine, I would keep you here with me for the rest of my life."
Christine flew into the arms of the older woman.
Christine clung to Emily as great sobs racked her young body and Emily's own tears ran silently down her cheeks. Christine's tears seemed to exhaust her, and so, with a final hug for Grandma Em and a hoarse "thank you," she took the stairs to bed.
Once in bed, exhausted as she was, Christine could not keep her mind off the letter from Mrs. Hall. Even as sleep claimed her, snatches of the letter returned. "Carl Maxwell is missing. Talk to no one. The sheriff is looking into things. Stay where you are. I repeat, talk to no one."
"You mean to tell me you've been gone all this time, only to return and tell me the job isn't done? How long does it take to kill one woman?" Vince Jeffers' face was mottled with rage. The veins in his neck stood out like cords.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Jeffer's sir, but no one has seen a girl of that description, and the only Mr. Franklin in town somebody said was killed by a runaway horse a few weeks back."
Vince Jeffers was so angry he wanted to strike the man. He stood behind his desk, a heavy glass paperweight clenched in his hand.
Finally he spoke through gritted teeth. "Get out! I need time to think, and don't you dare show your face around me until I send for you!"
The man needed no further prodding. He bolted for the door, nearly frightened out of his wits by his employer's rage. The sound of shattering glass echoed in his ears as he made good his escape.
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Emily sat on the side of her bed feeling every day of her 70 years. Last night had been awful. She had gone to bed feeling very good about being able to reassure Christine of her job and a place to live, only to be wakened sometime near midnight by her screams.
By the time Emily got to Christine's room, she had stopped screaming. Emily found her sitting up in bed, her eyes glazed over and soaked with perspiration. Grandma Em lit the lamp and took Christine's hand, holding it gently until she noticed her presence.
"He was trying to kill you." Christine's voice was a dry whisper.
"Who was, dear?"
"Vince Jeffers. He had stabbed Mrs. Hall and was going after you. I couldn't stop him." Her voice broke.
"A dream, Christine; it was just a dream. I'm safe and you're safe. It's all right now." Grandma Em rose and brought a damp cloth to bathe Christine's face. She helped her into a fresh nightgown, all the time talking in a calm, reassuring voice. When Christine settled back in bed, Grandma Em blew out the light and once again took her hand. In a quiet, clear, trusting voice she began to pray. "Dear heavenly Father, please cover her with Your loving comfort. Help her to relax and sleep. Help her to forget her fear and trust You to watch over her this night. Thank You, God, for giving Christine to us. Help me to be here for her and to comfort her in any way I can. Thank You, God. Amen."
Christine's eyes had closed. Emily's hand reached to smooth her brow. Her heart filled with anguish over this young woman's pain. Emily sat with her for awhile before making her way back to her own bed. Sleep did not come until nearly dawn.
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With all these thoughts going through Grandma Em's mind, she was shocked to find Christine up ahead of her with coffee on and breakfast started.
"Christine, I'm surprised you're up. When I didn't hear you moving around in your room, I assumed you were getting some extra rest."
"I was awake and I just got up." Christine's smile was meant to reassure Grandma Em, but she wasn't fooled.
They worked for a few minutes in silence until Christine spoke. "I feel rather foolish for waking you last night. I've never done anything like that before. I'm sorry."
"Christine, there is no reason to apologize. It's not as if you planned to have a bad dream that scared you senseless." Grandma Em chided her a bit sternly. And then more gently, "Do you want to talk about it?"
The back door opened at that moment, keeping Christine from answering. Grandma Em sent her a look of apology for the interruption and then went to greet her grandsons.
Forgetting that Luke was also a regular guest on Sunday morning, she turned to add more eggs to the pan. Christine no longer felt embarrassed about their first meeting. She realized over the past week that these things just happen.
No, her thoughts this morning were not on Luke, but Mark. She had lain awake most of the night and after much thought had decided to talk with Mark. So far the sheriff had not talked to her, and frankly, she preferred it that way. She much preferred confiding in Mark and letting him decide if and when to talk with the sheriff.
Christine, her thoughts so intense, hadn't realized that Grandma Em had taken Silas into the parlor to show him some new sheet music. Luke sat down silently at the table to await the coffee.
Christine bustled around and finally moved to the table to pour coffee. Not until she was nearly on top of Luke did she realize he was there. Having those startling blue eyes leveled so intently on her face caused Christine's hand to
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shake, splashing some coffee on Luke's leg. Luke was on his feet in an instant and reaching for a napkin.
Christine stood, the pot now upright, a trembling hand pressed to her mouth in horror. "I'm sorry-are you burned, are you hurt? How clumsy of me! I didn't see you, I'm sorry." The words tumbled out and Christine turned to replace the pot and get a damp cloth.
Luke wondered, as she did, if it was at all safe to be around this woman. He couldn't quite squelch the irritation he felt at having his Sunday pants stained. It was either wear them as they were or go all the way home and change.
Christine returned and handed Luke a wet cloth, seeing as she did that his napkin had been of little help. Not until Luke r
eturned the cloth to her did he see the tears standing in her wide, green eyes. He couldn't have known that lost sleep and worry had brought them on and not just the spilled coffee. Upon seeing them, Luke's irritation drained away.
"I'm sorry, are you burned?"
"No, just a bit damp." He smiled and indicated his pants, hoping she would believe him.
When she just stood there, blushing and looking miserable, he tried again. "Honestly, Christine, I'm not burned; I'm fine, really."
She stared at him a moment more and then with a little nod turned back to the stove, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands.
Luke thought that for as tall as she was, such a childlike gesture made her look like a lost little girl. He felt sorry for her and hoped she hadn't seen any of his earlier irritation.
When Grandma Em and Silas returned, they all sat down to breakfast. All three of the Camerons noticed Christine pushing her food around her plate. Grandma Em and Luke felt sure they knew why. Silas just felt concern for her.
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Within the next hour the four of them were sitting in church together. As Silas parked the horses and wagon, Christine had a chance to see Susanne and tell her she needed to speak with Mark. Susanne hugged Christine and promised to pass the word along. Having Mark and Susanne to talk with was a great help.
But these thoughts were far from Christine's mind as she sat in church beside Grandma Em. As usual, she listened intently to Pastor Nolan speak, wondering as before at the strange feeling of expectancy she always felt.
Christine reached for the pew Bible when Pastor Nolan told them today's text was in Luke 19. Her eyebrows rose in surprise, for she hadn't remembered that Luke was a Bible name.
In Luke 19 Pastor Nolan told about Zacchaeus, a tax collector who cheated people. This made him very rich but not very well liked. He was also short. On this particular day in Scripture, Jesus was coming to the town where Zacchaeus lived. Zacchaeus wanted to see Him, but the crowd and Zacchaeus' short height made this impossible.
So the little man ran further down the road where Jesus would be walking. The Bible said that Zacchaeus climbed into a tree and waited for Jesus to pass.
When Jesus was below the tree, He looked up and saw Zacchaeus. "Come down quickly," Jesus bade the man; "today I'm going to eat at your house."
Christine's mind wandered a bit as she wondered how Jesus knew that Zacchaeus was in the tree. She continued to wonder about this even as the pastor spoke on Zacchaeus giving back four times the amount of money he had overcharged people, and giving half his goods to the poor. The final verse was Luke 19:10: "For the Son of man has come to seek and to save that which was lost."
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As everyone reached for their hymnbooks and stood for the closing song, Christine kept the pew Bible in her hand. She read the passage once again as everyone sang, thinking as she read that she had missed the part where Zacchaeus called down to Jesus or made himself known in some other way.
The service ended and everyone moved toward the door-everyone except Christine and Luke. Christine was still reading, and Luke, who had sat on the inside of the pew against the wall, couldn't exit without climbing over her. He stood patiently, waiting for her to finish.
When Christine read the passage through for the second time, she turned abruptly to Luke. "How did Jesus know Zacchaeus was in the tree?"
Luke, who was half expecting something like this, answered quietly, "Because God knows everything."
He could see this made no sense whatever to Christine because her brow was knit with confusion. He continued, "And Jesus is God's Son. Jesus is God." Luke watched her face, unsure of what was so confusing.
Christine opened her Bible again and said, "But where does it say that?"
Luke finally understood. "It doesn't say that in the passage we were in today. Here, let me show you where it does say that." Luke opened his own Bible and began to thumb through it.
As he did so, Christine realized that the church had emptied. How embarrassing! She had stood there reading even though the service was over, and Luke couldn't even get out of the pew until she moved!
"No, Luke, it's all right. I best get to the wagon."
Luke looked up to see Christine's face flushed in a way that was becoming familiar to him. Her movements as she headed toward the aisle were stiff, and she was looking anywhere but at him.
"Christine." His deep voice stopped her just as she reached the aisle. Luke waited until she faced him before
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speaking. "After lunch today, if you'd like, I'll write some verses down and you can look them up yourself."
She nearly sagged with relief. With a nod and a small smile she headed for the door.
Luke replaced the pew Bible that Christine had dropped in her hurry to escape. He followed, his pace more sedate as he exited, belying the way his mind raced for verses she would understand and, more importantly, would whet her appetite for more.
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The scene on the front porch was a peaceful one. Story time was over and Emily's small head rested on her mother's round stomach. Susanne's foot kept the porch swing at a steady rock.
Emily's eyes slid shut for the last time and Susanne's hand moved to stroke her shiny curls. She smiled as she realized it wouldn't bother her in the least to have another little blonde girl. Her other hand moved absently over her stomach.
The front door opened and shut quietly. Luke took a seat near the swing and sat in silence, watching his niece sleep. A frown crossed his face as he saw Sue's hand on her abdomen. Luke opened his mouth to speak, but Sue was observant and ready for him.
Tm fine."
Luke relaxed and smiled. "Can Mark hide anything from you?"
"Nope, not a thing."
"How long now?"
"Mark says two weeks. I say sooner."
"He's the doctor."
"So he keeps reminding me." Sue answered with a smile and a raise of her eyebrows.
Luke laughed softly before asking. "Where is Mark?"
Sue nodded her head toward a huge old willow tree that stood some distance off the corner of the porch. Amid bare switches hanging nearly to the ground, Mark and Christine could be seen and were obviously in deep conversation.
"Your grandmother assured me last night when we talked that I have a job and a place to live for an indefinite
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period of time. It's good to have that worry off my mind. I plan to write Mrs. Hall so her mind is at ease."
Mark nodded. "Our sheriff spoke to me about contacting the law in Spooner, just so the lines of communication are open. Both towns need to work together on this."
Christine shook her head sadly. "I just don't understand. Grandpa was not a wealthy man. I mean, we lived comfortably and I had all I needed, but it just doesn't make sense."
"I must admit, it's all rather strange. What we know isn't much. First a note to you from Carl Maxwell, and then the man disappears."
"And don't forget my grandfather's will leaving everything to Vince Jeffers in the event of my death. I'm only 19 years old! He would never have written that. Another thing puzzles me-my grandfather's charity. It was never even mentioned. He gave often and quite generously to a small orphanage in Spooner. It doesn't make sense that he wouldn't even remember them."
The two stood together for a moment in thoughtful silence. Mark studied once again the letter in his hand. "Christine," he began gently, "when a person passes away, it's normal for the surviving family members to go through the loved one's possessions. If you were home, I'm sure you would have already started this, painful though it may be." Mark hesitated, wanting to be tactful. "When you write to Mrs. Hall, why not ask her to look through your grandfather's things? I realize this is highly personal, but maybe she can turn up something that will give us some answers."
As Mark suspected, Christine did not jump at the idea. It still upset her to think about the finality of her grandfather's death. So Mark hastened to add, "What you wr
ite is up to you. You don't have to tell me your decision-it was only a suggestion. If it's all right, though, I'd like to show this letter to the sheriff when I see him."
"That's fine, Mark." Christine's voice was preoccupied. "Will you please tell Grandma Em I've gone for a walk and I'll be gone awhile?"
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"Sure, I'll tell her."
The words were barely out of his mouth before Christine walked away. The need inside her to escape was so desperate that she nearly ran. Cutting across Mr. Turley's field, her long legs carried her swiftly to a quiet spot along the creek which she had discovered during her first week at Grandma Em's.
An enormous boulder at the edge of the water was Christine's destination. Sinking down to it with a weary plop, Christine let the afternoon sun beat upon her. She welcomed its warmth, though it crossed her mind that she should have worn a hat. She studied the backs of her hands: brown. It was what she got for working in the garden without gloves.
A sudden movement interrupted her reverie. Christine's eyes were drawn to the creek's edge. A fish had swum between the rocks and was trapped in a pool barely large enough to hold him.
Christine contemplated the situation a moment before reaching out to shift one of the large rocks. The hoped-for result was immediate: With a flip of its tail the fish headed downstream. With envy Christine's eyes followed as it moved swiftly out of sight in its newfound freedom.
Freedom. It seemed like forever since Christine had experienced that feeling. Freedom to go home if she wanted. Freedom from worries and fears. A freedom that, up until the time of her grandfather's death, she had taken for granted.
Christine felt a lonely ache within her. Luke said that God knows everything. Did He know why she sometimes felt empty inside? Did He care? So many questions but no answers. Christine ached for her grandfather's presence, yet she knew her pride was keeping her from asking for help. So the afternoon shadows lengthened and Christine sat with only her tears for company.
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Back at the house, Luke and Silas had their suit coats on and were headed for the door. After kissing Grandma Em, Luke handed her a piece of paper. He explained about the verses, and Grandma Em assured him that Christine would get them.