We await to hear from you.
Hannah Abrams
Sophia refolded the stationery and slipped the letter into the envelope. Then, with unshed tears blinding her, she placed it into the shoe box and closed the lid.
Saturday, January 9, 1943
Dear Diary,
Today is our little Rose’s first birthday. We had a party for a few friends from church. Hannah and Isaac and their children were with us as well. It almost seemed an ordinary day. It took contributions from several families, but I managed to obtain the necessary ingredients to bake a cake. It was small, and no one got much more than a few bites. Still, it was good.
Ordinary. Normal.
How rare.
Esther
Tuesday, February 23, 1943
Dear Diary,
Hannah and I were stopped and searched today when we went to do our marketing. Rose was crying, and little Ashira was clinging to her mother’s hand so hard and shaking. The soldiers made rude comments about Hannah’s condition and her Jewish heritage. It was vile and ugly, and both frightened and enraged me.
Why must mankind be so cruel? Why, of all God’s creations, are we the ones who mistreat and kill our own?
Esther
Monday, May 24, 1943
Dear Diary,
Mikkel and I had a horrible argument this morning before he left the house. I told him he is taking too many risks. I asked him to think about me and Rose for a change. He said he is thinking of us. He is thinking of our futures and the sort of world he wants our little girl to grow up in.
After he slammed the door behind him, I held Rose in my arms and wept. I wept for all we have lost and all we could lose. I tried to find comfort in prayer, but there was none to be found.
Mikkel has not returned yet, and it is nearly midnight.
Esther
Wednesday, May 26, 1943
They have arrested Mikkel. O God in heaven, have mercy.
THIRTY
“There’ve been a few complications.” Mac’s voice sounded fuzzy across the telephone wires. “This is going to take longer than expected.”
Karen smiled to herself. “It’s okay, Mac. Whenever the money comes it’ll be needed. You saw the ranch. You know there’s a lot to be done.”
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” “Not always.”
“That property isn’t worth investing in.” “It is to me.”
He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “You can still come stay with us until this is settled. My wife and I—”
“Thanks, Mac, but I’m where I want to be. That’s the honest truth. You know it is.”
“That’s what I thought when I was there. Still … well, you call if you change your mind.”
“I won’t change my mind, but thanks for asking. You’re a good friend.”
There was a brief silence from his end before he said, “I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything new.”
They said their good-byes, and Karen hung up the phone.
“Mr. Gleason’s trying to talk you into going back to California, isn’t he?”
“Yes.” Karen turned toward Sophia. “But it isn’t working, Grandmother, so you needn’t worry.” “Praise the Lord for that.”
“Yes.”
“I’d like to talk to you.” Sophia walked to the table and set a shoe box in the center. “Would you mind getting Dusty? I already asked Patty to join us, and she’ll be right out.”
Karen felt a sting of alarm. “Are you feeling all right? Do you need a doctor?”
“I’m feeling fine, my dear.” Sophia waved off Karen’s concern. “But there are matters we need to discuss as a family.” “If you’re sure you’re okay.” “I’m quite sure.”
Not convinced but not wanting to argue, Karen reached for her coat and slipped into it. Then after a glance over her shoulder at Sophia, she opened the door and headed for the bunkhouse.
A piercing wind cut through her down-filled coat as if it were nothing but fine linen. Shivering, she leaned into the wind and quickened her steps, wondering if it was possible for a person to freeze to death in the minute or so it took to walk across this barnyard. At the bunkhouse, she knocked on the door. A moment later, it opened.
“Grandmother wants to talk to you.”
Dusty’s welcoming smile vanished. “Is something wrong?” “I don’t know. She said she’s feeling all right. She doesn’t look sick.”
“Step out of the wind. I’ll be right with you.” Karen did as he said, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. While she waited for Dusty to return from his bedroom, she looked around the bunkhouse, thinking how empty it seemed without the boys there to mess it up.
Who will Dusty’s boys be next summer? Could they be my boys too? Could I become a real part of this place?
Dusty paused in the doorway to his bedroom, watching Karen while putting on his coat. There was something wistful about her expression, something yearning and hungry.
He’d been aware of her diligent search for truth in the days that had passed since he’d asked her to marry him. She read the Bible her grandmother had given her almost as much as Dusty read his own. He knew because he’d seen her at it. He knew because she asked so many questions. She was trying hard.
What continued to hold her back? he wondered. What caused her to hesitate, even now?
As if suddenly sensing his perusal, she glanced in his direction.
He longed to kiss her, to hold her, to tell her he loved her. But he didn’t. He hadn’t let any of those things happen again since the night of his proposal. Perhaps he could wear her down, get her to agree to marry him by the sheer force of his will, but that wasn’t the way he wanted her.
“Ready?” she asked, her voice cracking slightly.
“Ready.”
A short while later, Sophia looked at her loved ones seated around the kitchen table. They were all watching her with ill-concealed concern, despite her assurances to each of them that nothing was wrong.
“I’m not feeling poorly,” she insisted. “I’m old but not sick.” She reached for the shoe box, drawing it toward her. “But I’ve put off this discussion for too long. I meant to do it when I was released from the hospital. Time got away from me.”
She saw Dusty and Karen exchange glances. It was apparent their anxiety was unchanged.
“Karen, dear.” She waited for her granddaughter to look at her, then continued, “I spent much of today thinking about the past. The older one gets, I’ve found, the more enjoyable that pastime becomes.”
She smiled to herself, knowing the young rarely understood the elderly until they became old themselves.
“In fact, that’s what I was doing the day you arrived at the Golden T. My, but that seems a long time ago, doesn’t it? I was thinking that day how I was ready to go home to the Father whenever He chose to call me.”
“Grandmother!”
“Shh.” She raised a hand to halt Karen’s protest. “I’m not saying I’m eager to die. I’m simply saying I’m ready. My stay in the hospital served as a reminder that none of us know when our allotted time on earth will be finished.”
She opened the box and touched the items inside.
“Karen, this is my keepsake box. I’ve written down what each of these items is and what it represents to me. After I’m gone, whenever that is, these things will be yours. I want you to put the box away until then.” She picked up the letter from Hannah Abrams. “Except for this.” She held the envelope toward Karen. “When you’ve read the last page of your Grandmother Esther’s final journal, you may read this. Don’t read it before. Please.”
“All right,” her granddaughter agreed softly as she took the envelope, turning it over in her hand to read the handwritten address on the front.
Sophia moved her gaze from Karen to Patty to Dusty and back to Karen again. Then she took a deep breath and continued. “In addition to these trinkets, I’ve a few other items to dispense with. I’d rather
tell you myself what I want than leave it to some attorney after I’m gone.”
She looked at Patty. “My dear, I don’t know if your father will see how wrong he is. I hope and pray he will. More than that, however, I pray you won’t let the mistakes of your youth ruin your whole life. You’re a lovely girl, Patty Call, with a fine mind and a good heart. I don’t know where God will lead you, but I know He has a plan for you. He will turn to good all things, if you let Him.” She paused, collecting her thoughts, then continued. “I have a small life insurance policy, and I’ve named you as my beneficiary. When the time comes, you use it for your education. If I live long enough to see you graduate from college, then you take that money to help someone else in need. Agreed? “
Looking uncomfortable with the subject, Patty nodded.
“Dusty.” Sophia turned toward him. “I’ve left you this land, what’s left of the Golden T Ranch. I want to make—”
“You’ve what?”
“I’m leaving you the deed to the land. So you can continue your youth work.”
“But, Sophia, you shouldn’t—” He stopped, looked at Karen, then back at Sophia. “You can’t do that. The ranch should stay in your family.”
Sophia met her granddaughter’s gaze. “I suspect, if you ask Karen, she’ll tell you she wants you to have it. The house will be hers, of course, if she wants it and for as long as she wants it.”
After a lengthy silence, Dusty said, “Karen?”
It surprised her, more than a little, to discover how right her grandmother was. She much preferred the ranch go to Dusty. She supposed she should have felt cheated, rejected, by the decision. But she didn’t. In truth, there was a serenity in knowing the land would go to someone who would use it to help others. There was a freedom to be found in lacking possessions. What an amazing discovery.
And after she received the money Mac had found for her, she could help Dusty do even more with this place. Excitement filled her heart.
Maybe she and Dusty could open a year-round home for troubled teens. They could hire several additional counselors. They could build more bunkhouses. Perhaps they could also help girls like Patty.
“Grandmother’s right.” She turned toward him, a smile curving her mouth. “I do want you to have the ranch. And once Mac—” The jangle of the telephone interrupted her.
Dusty was sitting the closest. He rose and answered it. Karen watched his expression darken as he listened to the voice on the other end. His responses were made in monosyllables.
“Yes,” he said several minutes later. “Yes, I understand. I’ll leave first thing tomorrow.” He turned his back toward Karen and the others. “I’ll let you know when to expect me. Thanks for the call.” He hung up, then pressed the heels of his hands against the counter, his forehead against the cupboard above it.
Karen suspected he was praying, and her anxiety increased with each passing second.
Finally, he straightened and faced the room again. “It’s Hal. He’s in Seattle.”
Karen glanced quickly at Patty, wondering what her reaction would be to the news. The girl’s eyes were wide, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. Karen couldn’t guess what she was thinking or feeling.
“He’s in jail,” Dusty finished.
“Oh no,” Sophia whispered.
“I’ve got to go up there.”
Karen turned to him. “Tomorrow?”
He nodded.
“Will you drive?” Karen asked.
Again he nodded. “No money for the airfare. I’ll take the van. It’s the most reliable. And I can sleep in it if I need to.”
“I have a little of my mad money left,” Sophia said as she rose from her chair. “I’ll get it for you.”
God, why don’t You help these people? Why can’t You give them a decent break?
“Karen?” Dusty said softly. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. You’ll need to look after Sophia and Patty.”
“I will.”
He stepped toward her. “Take care of yourself, too.” She nodded.
With the tips of his fingers, he lifted her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “I believe this is a good thing that’s happened. Hal asked for me. He’s stopped running. Don’t despair. God is sovereign—remember that when it all seems too much and you can’t see the purpose. God is good, and He is sovereign.”
Tuesday, June 1, 1943
Dear Diary,
I was allowed to see Mikkel today. The Germans know now that we are Americans, but because of when we came to Denmark and the reason, they seem inclined to believe we are not spies. Or maybe this is only a trap. Maybe they are waiting for another mistake.
They did not leave us alone to talk, but I could see all the warnings in Mikkel’s eyes. Our home is sure to be searched. I will no longer be careless with my journals, Except for when I am writing, I will keep them in the secret hiding place Mikkel built such a very long time ago, back when I thought it would never be necessary. I will make certain there is no shred of evidence that might link either of us to the resistance movement.
I begged Mikkel’s forgiveness for the argument we had the last time we were together. I did not care if the Germans heard that. I told Mikkel how much I loved him and that he was not to worry about Rose and me. We will be fine, with God’s help.
He took my hands and held them tightly and reminded me that I must not look at circumstances from man’s point of view but only from God’s. He told me to look up Mark 8:33 when I arrived home, which I did. In that verse, Jesus rebuked Peter, saying, “Get thee behind me, Satan: for thou savourest not the things that be of God, but the things that be of men.”
I understand what he wanted to show me in this verse, that I must see everything against the backdrop of the cross, that I must view it all with an eternal perspective. But did Mikkel also realize Jesus said this because He knew He was about to suffer and die?
Esther
Monday, August 9, 1943
Dear Diary,
They would not allow me to visit Mikkel today. I am afraid of the reason.
Sabotage has been increasing throughout Denmark. The press has become a powerful instrument, and the Danes know the truth about the war from both it and the BBC broadcasts which we all listen to nightly, even though it is forbidden.
The Germans are losing ground. The tide has turned in favor of the Allies. But will the war end soon enough for Mikkel?
Esther
Sunday, August 29, 1943
Dear Diary,
The Danish government has resigned following the demands the Germans made as reprisal for the bombing of the Forum. A state of emergency has now been declared by the Nazis. Freedom fighters who are captured will be shot or deported to concentration camps.
I have not been allowed to see Mikkel for nearly a month.
Esther
THIRTY-ONE
It was three in the morning, one week before Thanksgiving, when Karen closed the last of Esther Christiansen’s thirteen journals.
Tears flowed down her cheeks, but she made no effort to wipe them away. She hadn’t the strength. She was emotionally drained, while at the same time feeling a strange lightness in her heart. She couldn’t explain it. It simply was.
She wished Dusty were back from Seattle. He’d called to say he was on his way home, having done all he could for Hal. He’d sounded hopeful about the boy’s future. “I think there’s a good chance the court will give me custody. It’ll be a few weeks before we’ll know, but it looks like he’ll avoid jail time.” He’d said he would tell them more upon his return.
But that wouldn’t be until late today. Karen wanted to talk to him now. She wanted to tell him what she was feeling. He would understand. He’d be able to explain what it all meant.
She closed her eyes, pressed her hands over her heart, and whispered, “What’s going on, God? Maybe You should be the one to tell me anyway.”
For a moment, it seemed all of heaven held its breath right along with her.
It seemed she would get her answer. It seemed—
She sat up, listening. For just a moment, she’d thought she heard her name being whispered.
The wind playing tricks on her, no doubt. “Karen …”
No. She wasn’t mistaken. It was her name, but it wasn’t the wind. It was Patty.
She jumped out of bed and hurried to Patty’s bedroom, opening the door without knocking.
“Ohhh … Karen.”
She flicked on the light.
“It hurts … it hurts.” Patty lay on her bed, curled on her side, hugging her belly. Perspiration beaded her forehead and upper lip. “Something’s wrong. I think … I think it’s the baby.” She groaned in pain.
“But the baby isn’t due for weeks.” Another groan.
Karen hadn’t a clue what to do. That line from Gone with the Wind popped into her head, the one about not knowing nothing about birthing babies. She almost laughed out loud at the absurdness of the thought. Of course, the impulse to laugh was from nerves; there was nothing funny about this. If Patty was in labor, then the baby could be in danger. And maybe Patty, too.
“Don’t worry.” She tried to sound confident. “It’s probably false labor. Everybody talks about it. Happens all the time. Everything will be all right.”
She spun around and hurried to the kitchen where she flicked on the light and began searching for the number of the ambulance service. She knew it was around there somewhere. Dusty had called it when Sophia was ill. Where had she seen that number? Where? Where?
She found it an instant before full-fledged panic overwhelmed her.
Muttering the number aloud to herself, she lifted the handset. The line was dead.
Panic won. She couldn’t seem to move. She couldn’t seem to think.
“Karen?”
There was no more welcome sound than that of her grandmother’s calm voice speaking her name. She turned around. “Are the phones out?” Sophia asked. Karen nodded.
“You’ll have to go for help. I don’t think this is a false alarm.” “But what if there isn’t time?”
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