by Cathy Marie Hake, Lynn A. Coleman, Mary Davis, Susan Page Davis
“Strudel,” Lorelei corrected softly as she saw the deliciously greedy spark in Russell’s eyes.
“You told!” Arnie glared up at her. “Now it’s not a s’prise.”
After dessert, everyone played musical chairs in the entryway with Russell controlling the tunes on the gramophone; then everyone bundled up and went outside.
A big pile of leaves and logs lay ready. Russell supervised Alan as he lit it. Sugar prices made candy cost an arm and a leg; marshmallows were a rarity. The bag of marshmallows Russell’s mother brought out to toast counted as the highlight of the whole evening.
“Uh-oh. I burned mine!” Arnie’s face puckered.
“Yum! Just the way I like it!” Russell swiped the charred, gooey mess and popped it into his mouth. “I suppose you like them all golden perfect like Lorelei’s, don’t you, Arnie?”
“Uhn-huh.” The boy nodded.
“Shh. We have to be sneaky,” Russell said in a stage whisper. He grabbed Lorelei’s stick, and she obligingly let out a shriek.
“Lorelei, Russell has a marshmallow on his stick,” Adele tattled. “He hasn’t roasted it yet.”
“What’s sauce for the goose,” Lorelei said as she tried to grab Russell’s marshmallow.
Quickly, they were “fencing” with marshmallow-tipped sticks. Russell and Lorelei became the judges as they set up matches between the cousins. Arnie fought the boys, who gladly got on their knees to make for a fair fight.
After the final cry of “Touché!” they toasted the last few marshmallows and sat around the fire as it died down to mere embers. They sang “Shenandoah” and “Shoo Fly” and ended the evening with Arnie’s request, “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”
Russell poured water on the embers, and Alan raked the ground to guarantee they’d extinguished the fire entirely. Alan started coughing from the smoke.
Lacey giggled. “Don’t pretend the smoke is bothering you. Lorelei is practically in a cloud of it, and she’s not coughing.”
“She’s used to it.” Russell stood with his arms akimbo and stared at her. The look in his eyes sent sparks through her. “Everyone knows smoke follows beauty.”
Russell lay in his bed and closed his eyes. Instead of the hideous scenes of war that usually flashed across his mind, he pictured Lorelei with a speck of apple strudel on her lower lip. For the first time since he’d come home, he felt the knot in his chest loosen. He’d been able to horse around and laugh tonight—and it was because of Lorelei.
Arnie’s cot squeaked as he tossed about in the little parlor. Accustomed to the little boy’s restlessness, Mutt snuffled and settled back in. Lorelei had marked Arnie’s height on the pantry door frame this morning—just another one of her little ways of making sure Arnie felt secure about this being his new home. She’d made this old house a home with her warmth, laughter, and hard work.
The house creaked as it always did—the settling sounds of old timbers easing after the burden of a day. Like I do. He smiled wryly.
Somewhere in the house, someone coughed. Russell rolled over, yawned, and drifted off to sleep.
“Russell. Russell! Wake up.” Lorelei stood over him, her beautiful hair streaming like ribbons down past her waist. She shook his shoulder again. Desperation tainted her sweet voice. “I need your help. It’s Alan.”
Chapter 20
There. That’s better.” Lorelei eased Beatrice back onto the pillows she’d piled beneath her shoulders to ease the coughing. Unsure if it made any difference, Lorelei still kept pillows piled beneath the shoulders and heads of four of the kids and Mrs. Diamond. They’d all come down with the flu in the past day and a half.
At first, Russell moved Alan into the nursery in an attempt to isolate him. By daybreak, all the teens except Adele were also sick. They’d been brought here, too. Russell argued hotly with Lorelei that she shouldn’t help, that she’d get sick, too. She’d turned around, made a gauze mask, and returned. Since then, he’d not been able to send her away. With the girls sick, Russell needed a woman to help with their care.
They’d transformed the big nursery into a sick ward. Mama kept Adele and Arnie away from the doorway and delivered broth, tea, and fresh linen and towels.
“S–sorry.” Mrs. Diamond rasped after being violently ill.
“Shh. It is nothing.” Lorelei supported her head and held a glass to her lips. “Sip. Rinse your mouth. You will feel better for it.”
“I want my mama,” Lacey whimpered in her fever-cracked voice.
Lorelei watched as Russell tenderly sponged her blue-tinged face and made soothing sounds. They’d been going from bed to bed, doing their best to control the fever, ease the cough, and keep their patients hydrated. When Russell had first put up supplies, fearing the epidemic, he’d bought quinine and aspirin. The posters in town advised using both, so they’d diligently dosed each patient.
By afternoon, everyone except Alan seemed stable. Lorelei knew from the newspapers that many who died of the ravaging disease did so within the first day. As long as she and Russell kept them medicated and hydrated, they ought to pull through—all except for Alan.
Russell sat by Alan’s bedside, hollow-eyed with grief. From Alan’s rattled, irregular breathing, Lorelei knew he had little time left unless God intervened. She went over and sat on the opposite side of the bed. Taking up a damp cloth, she fought tears as she sponged his parched, hot skin.
“Eternal Father, we’ve done our best. You know how we love Alan. Please, Lord, if it be Your will, heal this young man.”
Alan opened his eyes. They were glazed, yet he feebly reached for Lorelei’s hand. “God is love.”
“Yes. Yes, God is love.”
Russell made an agonized sound. He stood, paced away, and came back. Standing over the bed, he muttered, “This is my fault.”
“No, Russell. You did your best. You tried to protect these children.”
“I made him take half of that buck to the Rimmons. Rimmon’s son brought milk today—because his father is down with the flu. If I hadn’t been so stubborn and—”
“Stop! You were right to want a young man to be responsible for his actions, and you were right to share the meat with a family who needed it. Life isn’t lived on our power. We aren’t in control, and we don’t bear responsibility for tragedies like this.”
“Then God is to blame.” Russell buried his head in his hands. “God allows the war; God allows illness.” He lifted his face. “How can you serve Him when He refuses to protect His own children? Look at Alan. Just look at him!”
“I see a young man in God’s hands.” Her mask didn’t successfully muffle her sob. “I want him to recover and sit at your table again, but if he does not, I know his heart is right with the Lord and I will someday feast with him in heaven. This I cling to. It is the hope Jesus bought for us on the cross.”
“That’s where we’re different—you still hope. Me? I’ve learned otherwise.”
“Leave him alone, Lori,” Mama said softly.
“I can’t.” Lorelei slipped past her mother and headed toward the large oak tree. It was barren of leaves, and a fresh mound of dirt beneath it carried a lovingly made wooden cross that lay beside a small collection of old family headstones. The pastor had come out and performed the funeral. Russell refused to come inside after the burial. He’d been out there ever since, and sunset had given way to dusk; then the moon rose. Still, he stood alone beneath the barren branches, staring at the grave.
Lorelei said nothing at all. Leaves crunched beneath her shoes as she walked to his side and silently slipped her hand into his.
“It’s too cold out here for you.” Even as his words rejected her, his fingers curled about hers.
“My hand is warmer than yours.”
“So is your heart. Go back inside, Lorelei. The chill inside me will freeze you. I’ve already caused enough heartache and damage.”
“You’ve done no such thing.”
He let out a gusty sigh and said nothing
more.
“Come inside. Your mother needs to see you before she goes back to bed.”
He cast a quick look at the second story of the house. “Her light’s on. Your mom will take care of her. She’ll sleep better in her own room tonight.”
“I’ll peek in on her during the night.”
He looked down at her. “Just like you slip in to tug Arnie’s covers up higher?”
“You knew I do that?”
“Buttercup, you’re like a guardian angel around here. I don’t think anyone does anything without you hovering over their shoulder.” The gentle look on his face hardened. “But you can stop hovering over me. I’m a lost cause. God and I—we weren’t on speaking terms before this happened.” He gestured toward the fresh grave. “Now—well, now it’s plain as can be that He’s cursed me for what I’ve done.”
“God isn’t that way, Russell. God is faithful. His character is unchanging. Bad things happen in life—things we cannot understand. They hurt, but God is with us during the hurt to give us consolation. If there is distance between you and Him, He is not the one who pulled away.”
“That’s some snappy theology you’ve worked out.”
His words cut her to the core. Lorelei gulped, then closed her eyes. Please, God, give me wisdom so I speak only the words You would have me say.
“Lost, Buttercup? It’s not easy to try to make sense of it all when things go wrong. I’ve given up. There’s no use pursuing God when all He does is turn His back on me.”
“God does not turn His back!” She staggered back from his bitter words. “You once told me you gave your heart to Jesus when you were a boy. So now you think to snatch it back because life is hard? Is that all a vow means to you?”
He glared at her stonily.
“Think of what a vow is. It does not say you will be true to your words only if all pleases you. I think of my parents. When they wed, they promised for better and worse, for richer and poorer, in sickness and in health. When things were hard for them, they did not blame each other, pull apart, and curl in opposite corners. They clung together and gave their all.”
“That’s what marriage is.”
“Yes. Two people make a promise to one another, and you expect them to keep their word. How can you think a vow made to God is less binding? You, Russell, made a vow to God. It was an eternal one—that no matter what life brought, you would follow Him. Instead of thinking of yourself, it is time for you to start serving Him.”
“What more does He want?” Russell slashed the air with his hand in sheer frustration. “I’ve done everything I can. I deliver food. I dig graves. I’ve adopted an orphan.”
“Your deeds are not what He wants. He wants your heart.”
The air hissed out of his lungs. He flinched as if she’d struck him.
Lorelei watched the pain in his eyes. Even in the moonlight, the deep anguish he felt shone in them. She’d spoken the truth. The message wasn’t a gentle one, and part of her wanted to soften the impact, but she couldn’t water down the foundational truth. Until Russell chose to yield control to God, he’d fight a painful and losing battle.
After a prolonged silence, she murmured, “I left supper for you in the warming box.” With a heavy heart, she walked back inside.
In the next two weeks, Russell worked from first light to well after dark. Arnie, shaken by another death, trailed after him like a second shadow. His cousins all leaned on him to be strong. “You’re like the Rock of Gibraltar,” Philip said as Russell helped him back upstairs after his first meal at the family table.
A rock? I can’t let them see that I’m like a million grains of shifting, sinking sand. They depend on me.
Even with all his hard work, Lorelei’s words rang in his ears. Your deeds are not what He wants. He wants your heart.
One evening, he came back from delivering food in town to find Philip in the large parlor, working on refinishing a piece of furniture. At first, Russell couldn’t see what it was. By the time he reached a decent vantage point, Philip turned. “I saw this in the attic and decided it needed to be repaired.”
Russell stared at the burned altar.
The teen reverently ran his palm across the surface. “When I saw it, I felt closer to Alan.” His voice cracked, “I remember his last words.”
“ ‘God is love,’ ” Russell remembered aloud.
Nodding his head, Philip started to sand the singed wood. Drawn to his side, Russell studied the damage. “We can fix it, can’t we?” Philip asked.
“It won’t be the same as new.” Russell thumbed an edge. “I can plane it, and you could rout the edge. Then we can sand it to even out this other surface. A little putty and darker stain will cover any of the imperfections.”
Late into the night, they worked on the altar. Every spare moment in the next three days went toward restoring it. Finally, late at night, all alone, Russell ran a polishing cloth over the surface. Though he’d put Arnie to bed upstairs, the little guy had crept back downstairs and fallen asleep beneath Russell’s jacket on a small sofa. Arnie stirred and sat up. He rubbed his eyes.
“Russell?”
“Yeah, buddy?”
Arnie padded over and snuggled close. He wrapped his little arm around Russell’s neck and curled his other hand around the edge of the altar. “Can we pray at this one, just like we do at the one in church?”
Chapter 21
Russell’s breath caught. I’m not equipped to do this. God, why are You putting me in this position? One look at Arnie’s innocent eyes forced Russell to tamp down his own doubts. “Would you like to?”
Arnie nodded. He slithered onto his knees, folded his hands, and frowned. “I’m too short.”
“Here.” Russell knelt on one knee and crooked the other up. He lifted Arnie to sit on it, and the little boy then folded his hands and rested them on the altar.
“That’s right,” Arnie said happily. He closed his eyes tightly and dove right in. “God, it’s me, Arnie. You got my daddy and mommy and Baby ‘Liz’beth with you. Please take good care of them. Russell takes good care of me. Night-night. Amen.”
“Amen.” Russell hugged him tightly. “Now go on up to bed.”
“Yessir.”
Russell sat on the floor by the altar as despair washed over him. If only my soul could be restored like this house and altar. If only my faith were that simple and pure.
“The paper in town says the flu is still bad, but it’s not claiming as many folks as it did in October,” Russell said when he got home one evening.
“How much longer will it last?” His mother took a sip of tea.
Russell shrugged. “No one can say.”
“I want to go home,” Beatrice said quietly. “It’s been good of you to have us stay, but in the end, it didn’t make any difference. I’m homesick.” She laughed. “I’d even be glad to have Mama scold me for slacking on my chores.”
Lorelei cut Arnie’s meat and didn’t participate in the conversation. The Diamonds needed to make this decision on their own.
“Going home by wagon is going to be too taxing,” Russell said.
His mother nodded. “We’ll go by train.”
“Tomorrow is Sunday,” Mama said.
“We’ll leave Monday,” Mrs. Diamond decided.
After everyone left the table, Russell remained, as had become his custom. Lorelei started to clear the dishes. “Mama and I will return to the cottage, too.”
His head shot up. “Why?”
“Because it is time.”
“Arnie needs you!”
Silently, Lorelei left him and went to the kitchen. Alone and up to her elbows in suds, she scrubbed a plate and fought back her disappointment. Why couldn’t you need me, Russell? Tears stung her eyes and nose.
Mama came in, picked up a dish towel, and started to dry dishes. “There was a time, I thought Russell was the answer to my prayers. You reminded me the pastor said we should pray specifically, and I did—just as you said—that God
would put a husband for you on our cottage porch. Russell fixed that porch. I hoped with time, his heart would mend, too, Lori. It hasn’t.
“You cannot be with a man who has hardened his heart against God. It is too hard for you to be under his roof and not set your affections on him. With his strength and kindness, he will woo you, but it is not what God would bless. On Monday, we will move back home, too.”
Heartbroken, Lorelei whispered, “I know. I’ve already told him.”
“It’s over!” Russell didn’t bother to knock. He plowed straight into the cottage and repeated, “It’s over!”
“What?”
He swept Lorelei up and swung her around. “The war! They declared armistice! It’s over!”
“Praise God!” Mama said from the kitchen doorway.
As Russell set Lorelei down, he still couldn’t contain his relief. He held her shoulders and planted an exuberant kiss on her cheek. She gave him a shocked look, but he laughed and grabbed her mother in an enveloping hug. “It’s done.”
Arnie tugged on his slacks. “Do we get to cel’brate with marshmallows?”
“Better than that. We’ll go to town. If you all promise to wear masks and stay away from others, we’ll go in tomorrow. They’re planning music in the park and a parade.”
Arnie scratched his knee. “Daddy had mag’zines. They showed soldiers marching, marching, marching in parades. You gonna wear your soldier clothes, Russell?”
The question jolted him. Russell hadn’t thought about his uniform since the night he’d happened across it before he left home. The very thought of ever putting it on again made him sick inside.
“The war is over, Arnie.” Lorelei poked the little boy in the belly and made him laugh. “No more uniforms. What if we decorate the buggy? How would that be?”
“Terrific!”
Indeed, the buggy did look terrific. Russell chuckled as he hitched the geldings to it the next afternoon. “You folks outdid yourselves. This is the fanciest buggy in all of Virginia!”