by Cathy Marie Hake, Lynn A. Coleman, Mary Davis, Susan Page Davis
Even the black crepe on doors and fresh graves in the cemetery didn’t dampen spirits. Folks from all around came to town to revel in the good news. The gauze masks couldn’t muffle the shouts of victory. The War to End All Wars was over. Never again would man engage in such brutality.
For the first time in months, Russell felt a glimmer of hope for the future.
Lorelei carefully cleaned each piece of glass, then wrapped the edges with copper foil. Once the foil cupped the edges, she used her crimper to burnish it in place. She’d decided to do this window as a gift for Russell—a thanks for his generosity. The copper foil allowed her to make this far more intricate, and she’d constructed it so he could place it in the library window since he often slipped into that room when he needed to ponder matters.
“What are you up to now?”
His voice startled her. She jumped and let out a gasp.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Hey—you cut yourself!”
“It’s nothing.” She set down the small piece of ruby glass and grabbed a rag. “I’m used to cutting myself. It’s just part of the job.”
He encircled her wrist with his hand and turned the finger toward the light. “Poor finger. If this happened to Arnie, he’d want me to kiss it better.”
“I’m not Arnie.” She pulled away. A shiver ran through her, so she reached over and grabbed her sweater.
“No, you’re not.” Russell held the sweater for her. “I came over to talk with you about that.”
“That I am not Arnie?” She glanced at her finger, decided it wasn’t going to bother her and didn’t need any bandaging, and set back to work on the window.
Russell chuckled. “No. Arnie’s in with your mother. They get along famously.”
“They do,” Lorelei agreed. She tucked a finished piece in place and started to foil the edges of a deep green leaf.
“Will you please stop messing with that and look at me?”
Surprised at his request, she laid down the leaf and foil, then turned toward him.
“Arnie misses you up at the house. I miss you more.”
His admission stunned her. Lorelei blinked at him in utter surprise.
Russell leaned forward. He traced her hairline with his forefinger and quietly said, “Buttercup, we’ve been through a lot together.”
“We have.” The tenderness in his touch and voice made her want to lean closer.
“I’m not very good with fancy words.” He cupped her cheek. “But, Lorelei, I can be myself around you. There isn’t anyone else I can say that about. You listen and are honest about what you think. I don’t know another gal in the world with a heart as big as yours.”
“Russell, those are fancy words. Kind ones. Your praise means much to me.”
His eyes darkened as he rubbed his thumb across her lips. “And my love? Does that mean much to you? I want to marry you, Lorelei.”
She sucked in a shocked breath. His words thundered in her ears, made her world tilt crazily.
“Don’t you love me, too?” His voice dropped an octave as he asked those words in a velvety voice.
The chill she’d felt earlier doubled. Lorelei stepped back and wrapped her arms around herself. “Yes. No.” She shook her head. “Russell, it does not matter how I feel. My love for you is strong, but my love for God makes such a marriage impossible.”
His brow furrowed. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Hot tears scorched down her cheeks. Everything inside trembled as she searched for the right words. “Russell, the man I marry must love God. In marriage, two become one. My heart and body tell me such a union would be wonderful, but my soul tells me no. We would not be a good match because there is this difference between us. Faith matters. It matters much.”
“It doesn’t have to. I’ll go to church if that’s what bothers you. You can continue to say grace at meals and bring up our children with Bible reading.” He got off the stool and came closer. Cupping her shoulders, he drew her close. “I wouldn’t expect you to give up anything that is dear to you.”
“But—”
“Your mother—she’d move in with us. She’ll make a wonderful grandma for Arnie, don’t you think?”
His words broke her heart. Lorelei pressed a hand to her mouth to hold back a sob.
He brushed away her tears. “Buttercup, this was supposed to be a happy moment. Things are looking up.”
“My heart says yes, but my soul says no. Russell, you honor me with this proposal, but I cannot accept it. A woman should not marry a man in hopes of changing him. It is unwise. Though I love you, marriage would be wrong because the Lord is my Shepherd, but He is your enemy.”
She could barely see him through her tears. Her legs felt rubbery, and she blindly reached behind herself for the table to keep herself from falling.
“If that’s how you feel.” Russell’s voice sounded grim, muffled.
Instead of bracing her, the table slid. The sound of glass shattering filled her ears as the world tilted and everything went dark.
Chapter 22
Mom!” Russell burst into the cottage with Lorelei draped limply across his arms. Ever since he’d come to the realization that he loved Lorelei, he’d begun to think of her mother as his, too. The horror on her face cut him to the core. “She fainted. She’s running a fever.”
“Put her in bed. Go get the quinine and aspirin.” Mrs. Goetz hurried into the bedroom and yanked back the covers.
By the time Russell returned, Lorelei was dressed in a lawn nightgown and covered by a sheet. Her mother worriedly sponged her wrists and face. “She is so hot. Too hot. Please, Russell, hold her up so I can make her take your medicine.”
Of the people he’d seen with the flu, no one had been as sick as Lorelei—no one except Alan. Russell sat at the bedside, nearly crazed with grief. He couldn’t bear to lose Lorelei. He trickled broth into her, held her head when she was sick, sponged her to control the fever. Nothing helped.
She grew weaker by the hour. Her coloring changed to the telltale bluish white that indicated she didn’t have long.
Russell stared at her and remembered when Alan was at this point. He’d whispered, “God is love.”
Lorelei believes that, too. My beautiful Lorelei, whose world is so full of light and color. Her soul sparkles with the joy of the Lord.
What do I believe? He’d tried to make bargains with God in the trenches. If You spare me and my buddy, I’ll … Get me out of here and … Make this war end … Now he sat at the bedside of the woman he’d grown to love. His hands and heart were empty.
I can’t bargain. I never could. I have nothing to offer God. I have no power. You are God, and I am a man—one who cannot bear to lose this woman.
Lorelei had spoken of vows and promises and commitment. When things got rough, I failed to rely on the Lord. I tried to live on my own terms, and I turned on God. What kind of fool have I been?
He took the Bible Lorelei kept at her bedside and started to read where a blue ribbon that was purpled with age lay between the pages in the eighth chapter of Mark:
And when he had called the people unto him with his disciples also, he said unto them, Whosoever will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me. For whosoever will save his life shall lose it; but whosoever shall lose his life for my sake and the gospel’s, the same shall save it. For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? Or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul? Whosoever therefore shall be ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation; of him also shall the Son of man be ashamed, when he cometh in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.
The words cut to the depths of his soul. He had nothing to exchange with God … nothing to give but a heart that was jaded and aching. The man in him wanted to bargain still—to beg God for this sweet woman’s life—but that wasn’t right. He couldn’t make a deal with God. Sovereign, Almighty God owed him noth
ing. If in His grace He spared Lorelei, it would be a blessing beyond all hope, but if He didn’t spare her …
Even then, I will serve You, Lord.
Russell slipped onto his knees. He closed both hands around Lorelei’s and prayed. “Father, take my wayward heart and make it Yours. I beg Your forgiveness for letting anger and pride separate me from You. Lord, I love this woman. I promise to follow You no matter what her fate. She said there is always the hope of eternity—of being seated together at the banqueting table in heaven. Our only hope now is in Your promise of eternity and salvation. Merciful God, be with us, I pray.”
Wrapped in her nightgown and two blankets and propped in the corner of the couch, Lorelei swallowed the apple cider and hummed appreciatively.
“Thirsty, Buttercup?”
“Yes.” She sipped more as Russell held the glass to her lips.
He sat next to her and played with the tip of her frazzled braid. “You’re looking miles better.”
She managed a weak laugh. “That is a terrible thing to say. As you carried me out here, I saw my reflection in the mirror. I’m a fright!”
“You’re beautiful.” He scanned her face slowly. “I need to tell you something.”
Please, no. Please, Russell, don’t ask me to marry you again. It nearly tore my heart out, telling you no last time. I’m too weak right now for this.
“While you were sick, I did a lot of soul searching. I didn’t like what I saw. Things have changed. I’ve recommitted myself to God.”
“Oh, Russell!”
“It’s not supposed to make you cry.” A lopsided grin tilted his mouth.
“They are happy tears.”
His woodsy, masculine scent enveloped her as he leaned closer and used the corner of the sheet to dab her cheeks. His voice deepened. “Before you got sick, I told you I love you. Do you remember?”
She nodded slowly.
He looked into her eyes. “You were right to refuse my proposal. We wouldn’t have had the bond in our marriage that God gives to His children.”
“I didn’t want to hurt you, Russell. I never wanted to hurt you.”
“Shh. I know. Because you stood firm in your faith, you challenged me. It wasn’t in a spirit of cruelty—you held up a mirror to my soul and forced me to look at myself.”
“Since I met you, I’ve held a burden for you. God gave me a special passage to lean upon.”
“Tell me.”
She felt weak as water. Without her saying a word, Russell tucked her into his side and pressed her head to his shoulder. She closed her eyes at the security and serenity she felt in that moment, then recited softly, “It’s in the first chapter of Second Corinthians. ‘Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort; who comforteth us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort them which are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God. For as the sufferings of Christ abound in us, so our consolation also aboundeth by Christ.’ ”
“We’ve had plenty of tribulation. I’m ready for that comfort and consolation.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Lorelei, my heart overflows with love for you. Will you marry me?”
“I love you, too, Russell. Being your wife would be an honor.”
Epilogue
July 3, 1919
The altar is our something old,” Lorelei told Russell’s mother as she showed her the grand parlor where the wedding was to be held the next day. Once, it had been the workroom she and Russell shared. Now it would serve as a wedding chapel.
Though outbreaks of the flu had lessened, quarantine laws made it impossible to use the church. Family members and a few close friends would come to the mansion for the nuptials, and Lorelei loved the fact that she and Russell would still have an altar for their wedding.
“And you have a beautiful new gown.” Mrs. Diamond smiled.
“The something borrowed is Mama’s lace hanky, and something blue is from Papa’s Bible. I’m using the ribbon marker from it for my g—” She stopped abruptly as Russell entered the room. Heat suffused her cheeks at the thought that he’d almost overheard her speaking of such a thing.
“Everything set to your satisfaction?” He looked about.
“Not exactly.” Mrs. Diamond’s words shocked Lorelei. Walking toward her son, she said, “Lorelei thinks that beautiful altar is her something old. To my way of thinking, the bride is supposed to wear something old.”
Russell wore a smug smile. “I’ve got that covered.” He gave his mother a peck on the cheek; then she left the room. Russell took Lorelei’s hand and tugged her to the window. A veritable rainbow of color shimmered around them from the stained glass. He pulled a frayed scarlet cord out of his pocket.
Three tiny hearts dangled from it.
“This has been in the family for seventy-seven years. I’d like you to tie it in your bridal bouquet. Maybe it’s not exactly wearing it, but I think carrying it qualifies for the tradition.”
“Three hearts … for God, you, and me?”
He smiled. “I knew you’d understand.” He kissed her, then cupped her face in his hands and shook his head. “In the myth of Lorelei, she was a siren who called men to their destruction. You, my sweet siren, were the voice God used to call me to restoration.”
The next afternoon, sun showered through the window onto the altar where they sealed their marriage with a heartfelt kiss.
“Now?” Arnie asked as he wiggled off to the side.
Lorelei laughed as Russell motioned for him to come. “Yes, now.”
Arnie pulled two roses from Lorelei’s bouquet and turned to the small crowd. “I got a s’prise. I’m ‘dopted, so Rus—I mean, Dad—said I get to give these to my new grandmas.”
They had a lovely wedding supper, and as a special celebration that night, Russell arranged for fireworks to be shot off the main lawn for the guests’ enjoyment. He and Lorelei stood by the window of their bedroom and held each other in the sparkling showers of light.
She walked her fingers up the buttons of his shirt. “It’s Independence Day. I’ve heard men think marriage takes away their freedom.”
“Not this man.” He captured her hand and kissed the backs of her fingers. “I’ve found liberty from doubt and anger. It’s not just the world that’s at peace, Lorelei. I’m at peace.”
“And I’m in love.”
With a full heart and in a finished home that love had restored, he swept her into his arms and kissed her.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Lynn A. Coleman is an award-winning author who makes her home in Florida, with her husband of thirty-six years.
Mary Davis is a full-time fiction writer who enjoys going into schools and talking to kids about writing. Mary lives near Colorado’s Rocky Mountains with her husband, three children, and six pets.
Susan Page Davis is the author of more than forty novels, in the romance, mystery, suspense, and historical romance genres. A Maine native, she now lives in western Kentucky with her husband, Jim, a retired news editor. They are the parents of six, and the grandparents of nine fantastic kids. She is a past winner of the Carol Award, the Will Rogers Medallion for Western Fiction, and the Inspirational Readers’ Choice Award. Susan was named Favorite Author of the Year in the 18th Annual Heartsong Awards. Visit her website at: www.susanpagedavis.com.
Paige Winship Dooly is the author of over a dozen books and novellas. She enjoys living in the coastal Deep South with her family, after having grown up in the sometimes extremely cold Midwest. She is happily married to her high school sweetheart and loves their life of adventure in a full house with six homeschooled children and two dogs.
Cathy Marie Hake is a Southern California native. She met her two loves at church: Jesus and her husband, Christopher. An RN, she loved working in oncology as well as teaching Lamaze. Health issues forced her to retire, but God opened new possibilities with writing. Since their children have moved out and are married, Cathy a
nd Chris dote on dogs they rescue from a local shelter. A sentimental pack rat, Cathy enjoys scrapbooking and collecting antiques. “I’m easily distracted during prayer, so I devote certain tasks and chores to specific requests or persons so I can keep faithful in my prayer life.” Since her first book in 2000, she’s been on multiple bestseller and readers’ favorite lists.