“Sure.”
“The time has to be right.”
“Do you want to tell me about it now?”
“I’ve wanted to ever since. I should have written to you too, but… well, maybe I’m no better at letters than you…. Well,” she added, looking up shyly, “I didn’t know if it would be proper with… you know… with you being engaged and all.”
Cherity paused and looked away, then drew in a deep breath.
“I had a long talk with your mother,” she began. “I can’t remember where you were right then, out somewhere. It was one of the most wonderful times I’ve ever had with anyone. I felt… I don’t know, almost like I had a mother of my own for the first time in my life. It’s different for a girl to feel loved by a woman, and I felt so loved by your mother. She was so warm to me. And when she told me about God being my Father and caring for me in a special way because I’d grown up without a mother… I don’t know how to explain it, but something happened in my heart… her love got inside me and somehow God’s love came along with it. After we’d talked I went out for a long ride—”
“Let me guess—Harper’s Peak?”
Cherity smiled. “Where else? I had already grown so fond of it up there, I could think of nowhere else to go to be alone. Maybe that’s where I began to learn how to pray, though it was in your parents’ arbor the next day, on that little stone bridge, where I first told God that I wanted him for a Father, and that I wanted to be his daughter too.”
“That’s wonderful,” said Seth. “I’m so happy for you.”
“I wanted to tell your mother too. I must have started ten letters to her since. But somehow I could never say it exactly like I felt inside.”
“She would love to hear from you. I know you were very special to her too… you are special to her, I should say.”
“Maybe I’ll try again.”
“Does your father know?” asked Seth.
“I think he does… sort of,” nodded Cherity. “I’ve tried to tell him. But I haven’t told him directly. Knowing of his own struggles about God and church and everything, it’s hard to know what to say. I love him so much, I don’t want him to think it makes me respect him any less that I have found a fulfilling life with God that he was not able to experience himself.”
“Give him time. Maybe he will eventually.”
“I worry about how much time he has left.”
“God gives every man as much time as he needs.”
“Do you really think that is true?”
“I suppose I’m too young to have the lifetime experience to back up such a statement,” replied Seth. “What do I know about time, right—I’m only twenty-one! But I’ve heard my dad say it many times. He wasn’t even walking with God when he was my age and look at him now. He always says God takes as much time to accomplish whatever he purposes in the life of every man and woman.”
Cherity sighed. “I hope you’re right. But I can’t help worrying.”
The silence that followed this time was more lengthy as they made their way along a narrow path beside a small river.
“We probably ought to be heading back,” said Cherity as they drew alongside. “I’ll take you by another route than we came.”
They began making their way, by many turnings and paths and trails Seth had not yet seen in several rides with Cherity, again in direction of the stables.
“Hey, by the way,” said Seth as they came out of a small wood. The edges of the city were again visible in the distance. “I’ve meant to mention it and keep forgetting—nice saddle!”
“Thanks! A friend gave it to me.”
“Some friend—giving you a beat-up old thing like that!” rejoined Seth, his eyes twinkling.
“I know it’s old and worn, but I like it better that way. It makes it all the more special a gift. My friend used it himself for years and broke it in for me.”
As she spoke Cherity turned and smiled radiantly.
All at once a revelation filled Seth’s brain—this was no little girl riding beside him. This was a young woman! Suddenly it dawned on him—Cherity Waters was just about the most beautiful young woman he had ever seen!
He glanced away, unable for a moment to catch his breath, then back. She was still gazing straight into his eyes.
“What!” she said, smiling yet the more. “Why are you looking at me funny!
“Oh, I… I didn’t mean… was I looking at you funny!” Seth stammered. He was unable to hold her eyes. “Sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.”
He gave his horse a gentle whack of the reins and cantered ahead.
Wow! he thought, drawing in several deep breaths. Would he ever be able to look into her eyes again without being undone?
They were nearly back to the stables. Ahead they looked up to see a horse galloping toward them at great speed. As it neared they reined “Miss Waters,” said the rider, out of breath and pulling to a hasty stop.
“Yes, I am Cherity Waters,” said Cherity.
“I was sent to find you,” he said. “It’s your father… he’s had a bad fall and—”
Whatever else the messenger was about to say was lost in the hooves of Cherity’s horse thundering away. Seth shouted to his mount and was soon flying across the heath toward the stables after her. By the time he pulled up and dismounted, she was already running for the carriage.
Fifty-Three
As they pulled up in front of the house, Cherity recognized Dr. Elliott’s buggy on the street. She jumped down, ran through the gate and up the porch steps, burst through the door and rushed straight upstairs to her father’s room.
The doctor was standing beside the bed. A figure lay upon it, thin, motionless, and white, covered by a single sheet whose color was nearly indistinguishable from the pallor of the face looking up from beneath it with eyes closed.
Slowly Cherity approached. The doctor heard her steps and turned.
“Is… is he…?” Cherity began in a whisper.
“He is alive,” replied the doctor, also in a soft voice as if in reverence for a nearby world of which he knew nothing and whose closer approach he could not control. “But I will not mislead you, Miss Waters, the attack your father has had is more serious than the others. I am not altogether hopeful.”
“Can you do nothing?”
“All we can do is wait.”
Cherity breathed in deeply, trying to calm herself.
“Every other time, Doctor,” she said, “you have been vague. I want you to tell me exactly what it is and what to expect.”
“I suppose you deserve that much,” he replied. “Your father’s condition, in its simplest terms, is a weakness of heart. There can be many causes, but generally it stems from what we call a fatty degeneration of the heart muscle.”
“And what is the prognosis?”
“It is my duty to tell you that death from this ailment can be sudden. At the same time, such is not inevitable. Conditions such as your father’s often persist for ten or fifteen years. The results are unpredictable. However, the fact that your father has had a series of minor episodes, leading now to this severe attack, no doubt brought on by the excitement of his nervous system caused by recent events and overexertion… we must be realistic. It may have proved too much for a system already weakened, as I say, by prior episodes.”
“What are you saying, Doctor? Is… is he dying?” asked Cherity, her voice trembling slightly.
“His system is weak. He may be near the end, but I can say no more. There may be a full recovery, but it would be misleading to tell you to expect it.”
Cherity’s hand went to her mouth and she turned away. Seth was standing in the open doorway. He had heard everything.
Slowly she walked toward him as her eyes filled. She walked straight into his arms, where she stood for a few moments quietly sniffing in jerky breaths.
Gradually she came to herself, realized what she had done.
“I’m… I’m sorry,” she said backing away, lookin
g up with a forced smile. “I forgot myself.”
She left the room and sought her own bed, where she lay down and wept.
Seth and the doctor were left alone. Seth approached with outstretched hand. “I am Seth Davidson,” he said. “I am… a friend of the family, you might say. I’ve been staying here about a week.”
“Dr. Elliott… Garth Elliott, Mr. Davidson,” replied the doctor, shaking Seth’s hand.
“Is there anything to be done, Doctor?”
“Only rest. We must wait to see how his system responds. I have done all I can do for him now. Mrs. Porterfield is downstairs. You will, I assume, be on hand?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Then keep him comfortable and notify me if there is a change. If he comes to, try to get water into him, perhaps some soup. Do not let him get up even if he says he feels well, which I doubt after what has happened. But he is a determined man and one never knows… in any event, as I say, do not let him get out of bed or eat solid food. Even that could tax his system. But if he does wake up, send for me.”
“We will. Thank you, Doctor.”
With another shake of the hands, Dr. Elliott left the house. Seth pulled the straight-backed chair from in front of the desk across the room and took a seat beside the bed.
The rest of the day and evening passed quietly. Cherity, Mrs. Porterfield, and Seth sat alternately by James’ bedside. He came to himself several times, took a few sips of water, tried to speak with Cherity, but was too weak to carry on a lengthy conversation.
He slept most of the night, and the next day the prayerful waiting continued. Cherity tended him faithfully, forcing smiles when she must but with a heavy heart.
Her father awoke midway through the morning, seemed more alert, drank some water and managed several spoonfuls of broth from Cherity’s loving hand.
The house was preternaturally quiet the rest of the day, as if James’ condition required soft steps and whispered voices, and as if noise itself would push him through the veil into the next world. Somehow the scarcity of words, perhaps augmented by the brief moments in her father’s doorway when, as she said, Cherity had forgotten herself, heightened each of the young people’s awareness of the other. Indeed, how could the presence of the other not loom larger than life in such an atmosphere where life itself hung in the balance, and where their ministering hands and loving hearts were working in such close proximity toward a common goal. All senses seemed suddenly attuned to greater pitch, especially the senses of the heart.
In pouring out her love upon her father, Cherity’s heart thus opened likewise, though she had fought against it a year earlier, toward this uncommon young man—strong, handsome, giving, humble, and fun—who was suddenly, after a long absence, so close again. But how could her heart battle on two fronts at once? How could she protect herself from the pain of losing her father, without at the same time yielding in vulnerability to that other love from which she had already suffered once?
How could she fight it? Her heart was weakened by her father’s condition. Perhaps the greater question had now become: Did she want to fight it?
She had been in grave danger before, but she was in love with Seth now… and she knew it.
Yet she must not betray her feelings. Not now. She could not give way to her emotions, or she would collapse entirely.
That Seth’s thoughts were likewise gathering themselves about Cherity Waters in fuller fashion than previously was not a suspicion that once crossed Cherity’s mind. He had never, not now, not in Virginia, not even in telling her about Veronica, given her the least reason to suspect that he regarded her as other than a good friend who shared a love for horses. True, he had said some nice things, but they were no more than any friend might say. Especially a friend like Seth. He was nice—a true Southern gentleman. He was gracious to everyone. He had been such a gentleman toward Veronica, whom apparently he did not love, that he had nearly married her to keep from hurting her feelings. She could not, Cherity told herself, allow her feelings to be betrayed by the kindness of his nature. Even a mere friend would offer the arms of consolation at a difficult time. She had wept momentarily on his chest, feeling the strength of his arms around her. It meant nothing. If Mrs. Porterfield’s father were dying, he would probably embrace her too.
And Cherity’s growing admiration for Seth—almost awe of him—as a spiritual being more like his parents than she had realized, only accentuated the gulf she supposed existed between them, and made all the more unlikely the possibility of intimate approach. He was so entirely God’s young man, was there even room in his heart for one such as she? Did such devotion to God allow a sharing of the deepest regions of the soul? True, his parents had room for God and one another. But did Seth?
That Cherity Waters, in Seth’s mind, was as far above Veronica as a young woman of developed character and maturity and spiritual hunger, as he seemed above her to hers, prompted corresponding thoughts to pass through the heart of the young squire so recently arrived in the North from Virginia.
Nor let it be supposed that for this young man and this young woman, at this crossroads moment of their lives, because their thoughts and feelings and heart pulsings mingled love of God with love of man toward woman and woman toward man, that such indicated less love on either side. The truest love of woman for man and man for woman will be that love which is lifted to the heights of its own fullness on the wings of love for God, in whose heart are born all loves human and all thoughts divine.
There is no separation, no dividing line, in Love. True love for God draws up into itself all other forms of the great Agape, including that holy Eros designed by him as no less a reflection of his own being than other loves—the wonderful mystery that draws a man and woman into oneness of heart.
Fifty-Four
The Sunday sun of late afternoon had begun to drift toward the western horizon beyond the city of Boston. Cherity’s father had had fits of wakefulness on and off all day, though by the weakness of his body and the pallor of his countenance he appeared not appreciably better. He had managed to drink a little but had eaten nothing other than what broth Cherity could spoon into his mouth. He had exchanged tender words with Cherity, who had been at his bedside nearly the whole day. Though she had wept, she had done her best to hide her tears from him. He had been asleep again for several hours.
Suddenly he awoke, more alert and clearheaded than since the attack. Cherity, in the chair at his side, had dozed off. She was startled into wakefulness by his voice.
“Cherity, dear,” she heard him say in a firm tone, “are you still there?”
“Yes… yes, Daddy, here I am,” she replied. She came quickly to herself and leaned toward him.
He turned his head toward her and smiled feebly. She saw immediately that his eyes were wider and brighter than they had been all day. She bent down and kissed his forehead.
“How are you feeling, Daddy?”
“Better… but tired. So tired. But I shall be out of this bed in no time. Is Seth at home?”
“Yes, Daddy. I think he is writing a letter to his father.”
“Ah, yes… a good man, a good friend. Ask Seth if he would come up for a moment or two.”
Cherity nodded and left the room. Seth appeared a minute later at Cherity’s side.
“Ah… Seth, my boy,” said James from the bed, “do you have a minute to spare an old man?”
“I have all the time you would like, Mr. Waters. You sound much improved.”
“Cherity, dear,” said James, “do you mind… if we men… are alone a few minutes?”
“Of course not, Daddy.”
Cherity left the room a bit curious, closing the door behind her. Seth sat down in the chair she had vacated, and waited.
“Seth, my boy,” James began after a moment, his voice gradually gaining strength for what he knew he needed to do, “there is an errand I need you to run for me.”
“Of course, sir.”
“But first—wha
t does the doctor say? I am… I am asking you because Cherity and Mrs. Porterfield would not be altogether honest with me. They would either cry… or keep the worst from me. It is time… for us to be men together. You must not pamper me with niceties. What did he say?”
“That you had a serious attack,” replied Seth, “worse than the previous episodes, and that there was little he could do but wait and see how your system recovered.”
“I see. Well, that is a more direct reply than the women would have given. Now for a more difficult question. I realize you are young… this may be awkward for you, but… your father is not here and I must depend on you instead. I think… I hope… I am a good judge of character and think… that you are able to the task.”
“I will try to be, sir.”
“Good. All right, Seth, my boy… does the doctor say I am dying?”
Seth gulped. James was right—this wasn’t easy! “He, uh… did not say so,” he tried to reply.
“Does he think I am dying?”
“I am not sure, sir. He was vague.”
“Then tell me what he said.”
“He said that people with your condition can die suddenly or live for years. He said that your system has been weakened. Though he could not make a definite prediction, he said… that is, he urged Cherity to be realistic, as he called it.”
James took in the words thoughtfully, nodding slightly.
“All right… I see. It would seem that he does think I am dying, but could not bring himself to say it to Cherity in so many words. Is that how you would assess it, Seth?”
“I don’t know, sir… possibly so. He did not seem to speak with a great deal of hope—I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. I asked for candor and you have given it.”
It was silent for several minutes. James was obviously thinking hard. The stark revelation of his condition, though not unexpected, was sobering.
“I hope what I said has not troubled you, Mr. Waters,” said Seth at length, not sure what Cherity’s father was thinking.
American Dreams Trilogy Page 92