Changes of the Heart

by Judith Mccoy Miller

  “Edith! There is absolutely no parallel between your marriage to Charles and Maura’s marriage to Luther. Quite frankly—and I know I shouldn’t say this—I wonder why he’s even here. He didn’t want to be around her when she was healthy. Oh, I’m sorry, Edith,” she apologized, seeing the look on the other woman’s face.

  “You don’t need to apologize, Georgette. I know that you are deeply concerned about Maura; besides, you’re worn out from lack of proper rest. But let me share with you one thing I’ve learned in my life—we humans give up on things a lot faster than the Lord does. He is so much more creative than we could ever imagine, and believe me—His plan will be revealed in His time.

  “Luther and Maura are both Christians, and I believe that God will restore their marriage. It may not occur in an uncomplicated manner or in the near future, but when it happens, it will transpire because both of them have looked to Him for their answer. Now, I guess I’d better get upstairs,” she said, abruptly ending her discourse and wiping her hands on a dish towel.

  “Thank you, Edith. I’ve not been very charitable to Luther. In fact, I’ve been downright rude at times. You’ve convinced me that I need to be praying for Luther rather than judging his behavior,” she remarked, with thoughts of her past rushing through her mind.

  “We’ll both pray for him! He won’t be able to resist if we’re both soliciting God’s help,” she said, chuckling heartily.

  It was midafternoon, and Edith had gone home for several hours. Having carried the cradle upstairs, Georgette sat stitching on the last of the tablecloths as Becca slept. Waffles was curled up on the rug by Georgette’s feet, keeping vigil, when a loud rapping sounded at the front door.

  Startled by the noise, Georgette jumped from the chair, her sewing basket and contents falling to the floor and frightening the dog. Instantly Waffles started barking and wakened Becca, whose lusty cries almost drowned out the dog. The knocking sounded again, sending Waffles into another round of barks that was followed by Becca’s wailing.

  “What in the world is going on?” Maura asked, a look of surprise on her face. “Why is Waffles in the house, and why is everyone in my bedroom?”

  “Maura! Oh, Maura, are you all right?” Georgette ques-tioned, attempting to be heard over the barking dog and sobbing child.

  Again the rapping began.

  “Georgette, please go answer the door so that Becca and the dog will settle down,” Maura commanded. “Here, I’ll hold Becca,” she said, reaching to take the baby.

  Noting Georgette’s hesitation, she looked confused.

  “What is wrong with you, Georgette?”

  “Let me answer the door, and then I’ll be right back to ex-plain,” the perplexed girl answered without turning over the baby.

  Georgette rushed down the steps; Waffles came running behind her and skidded to a halt in front of the door, the ever-ready protector.

  “It’s just Edith and Charles. Now stop your barking,” Geor-gette chastised the animal.

  “I was beginning to get worried,” Edith said, immediately lifting Becca from her mother’s arms and crooning to the child. “Did our knocking waken her?”

  “It was that or my dropping the sewing basket or Waffles barking at the top of his lungs,” Georgette said, giving them a small laugh. “You’re never going to believe this, but all the commotion seems to have awakened Maura. I need to get back upstairs right away.”

  “Here, Charles, you take the baby, and I’ll go up with Geor-gette and see what’s happening,” she instructed, passing the baby to him in spite of the fact that he had no experience with infants.

  Watching the two women walk up the steps and not sure what else to do, he stepped into the parlor, seated himself in the rocking chair, and began singing quietly to the baby.

  “Charles!” Edith called out as she returned to the parlor several minutes later. “You’re just not going to believe this, but Maura is back with us and seems fit as a fiddle. Here—give me the baby and go fetch Luther,” she directed him but then stopped for a moment. “I’m sorry, dear. I’m so excited that I’ve forgotten my manners. Would you please go to the store and give Luther the news?”

  “Of course, I will,” he said giving her a peck on the cheek. “No need to apologize. I learned to live with your enthusiasm years ago.”

  “Enthusiasm. Now that’s a nice word for it, isn’t it?” she pondered aloud as Charles walked out the door.

  ❧

  Charles made the short walk to the mercantile in record time, noting that there didn’t seem to be any customers in the store as he entered the front door.

  “I’ve good news,” he called out, spotting Luther squatted down stocking shelves at the far end of the room.

  “What? What’s happened?”

  “Maura has regained consciousness, and Edith sent me to fetch you. I’d be happy to watch after things here at the store, if you’d like,” the pastor suggested. “Or I guess you could put a sign on the door for a while,” he suggested, observing Luther’s hesitance.

  “What? Oh, no, I’ve no problem with you tending the store, Charles—in fact, I appreciate your kind offer. It’s just so—” he said, unable to complete the sentence.

  “Miraculous?” the pastor suggested.

  “Yes—that, too,” Luther agreed, not sure that miraculous was quite the word he had been searching for. “If you’re certain that it’s not an imposition, I would like to see her. I won’t stay long.”

  “Stay as long as you like. I think I’ll be more adept at running your store than performing several of the other chores Edith has thrust upon me lately,” he remarked.

  Georgette was just completing the amazing tale of how Waffles had been howling on the front porch the night of Maura’s mishap when Luther strode into the room.

  “Didn’t figure there was any need to knock on the door and cause one of you to run downstairs,” Luther explained as the three women looked toward him, silent. “Charles came over and told me the news,” he continued.

  “Perhaps we should give you two an opportunity to talk alone. Why don’t you sit here,” Edith suggested, rising from the chair beside the bed and moving toward the door.

  “Thank you, Edith,” Luther responded, seating himself.

  “Isn’t it about time to feed Becca?” Edith asked, looking at Georgette.

  “No. Ohhh, she may be hungry,” Georgette replied, seeing the look on Edith’s face.

  “I’m sorry, Edith. Sometimes I’m so dimwitted,” Georgette whispered as the two women walked down the steps.

  “You are not dimwitted or anything even closely related to it! I realized you didn’t hear me, so I just gave you a little nudge. I believe that must be some more of my enthusiasm Charles was talking about earlier,” she said, patting Georgette’s hand and chuckling heartily.

  ❧

  “It was kind of you to come so quickly,” Maura said, though not sure why Luther had hurried to her bedside.

  “I’ve been very concerned about you, Maura. In fact, I didn’t return to the store until this morning when Georgette and Edith insisted. I don’t know what Georgette told you before I came in, but you gave all of us a real fright. Do you recall any of what happened the other night?”

  “I think so, although I almost wish I didn’t,” she answered, reaching up to touch her head.

  “Will you tell me?” he asked, reaching to take her hand.

  Startled, she pulled away.

  “Maura, did he—did he hurt you?”

  “Not in the way you’re thinking,” she replied, realizing that he had incorrectly interpreted her reaction to his touch. “Georgette tells me that you’re the one responsible for finding me and getting help. Thank you for what you did.”

  “I’m just thankful that Waffles was making such a racket and caught my attention out there on the front porch. Do you feel up to talking about it?” he cajoled in a tender voice.

  Perhaps that knock on the head did cause a memory lapse, Maura th
ought, confused by Luther’s sudden change of behavior.

  “I’ll just sit here quietly,” he remarked when she didn’t immediately respond.

  “I feel well enough to talk about it, Luther, and I don’t think my memory is impaired—although you’re not acting like the man I remember, so perhaps it is,” she replied.

  Without further hesitation, she began to recall the events that had occurred several nights earlier.

  “Michael had escorted Georgette to the party at the Wilsons’ and Becca was asleep in her cradle. I wanted to finish hemming the tablecloths and decided to stay up until they were completed. Besides, I didn’t want to leave Becca downstairs, but I couldn’t carry her cradle up—well, that doesn’t matter. Anyway, I heard someone outside on the porch; then there was a tapping at the front door. Before I could get to the door, a man burst in and—”

  “You mean you didn’t have the door bolted?” he interrupted.

  “No, I didn’t have the door bolted,” she replied defensively. “I didn’t know when Georgette would be coming home, and I didn’t want her to stand outside waiting for me to answer the door if I was in the bedroom with Becca. Besides, we never bolt the door until retiring for the night. Neither of us has had any cause to be frightened,” she continued.

  “Maura! With all the men coming through town, do you think that two women alone are safe?”

  “Do you want to hear what happened or lecture me on my susceptibility to strangers in Placerville?”

  “I’m sorry. Go on with your recollections,” he apologized, giving her a reticent look.

  “As I was saying, a man burst in the front door and told me to be quiet. As soon as he got inside, he slammed the door behind him. When I asked what he wanted, he said he was down on his luck, telling me he’d been searching for gold without any success. I offered him work roofing the house, but he just laughed and asked me why he should work when he could just take my money. When I told him I didn’t have any money, he became angry and threatened me.

  “Becca awakened and I was afraid he would hurt her, so I told him I might be able to find a little money upstairs. He followed me, and I took what money I had in my reticule and offered it to him. Angry because it was such a small amount, he began cursing and yelling, his voice growing louder and louder. Then he began pulling out drawers and slamming the furniture about, all the while shouting he was going to kill me if I didn’t show him where my money was hidden. I screamed back at him, and the next thing I heard was glass breaking. Suddenly Waffles came running into the room and attacked the man—”

  “Did he actually bite the intruder?” Luther asked.

  “I’m not sure, although he had his teeth bared and was growling when he lunged at the man. I don’t recall anything after that,” she replied, sinking back onto her pillow.

  “I’ve tired you out too much. It was too soon for you to go through the ordeal of recounting the events,” he said apologetically.

  “No, it’s probably better this way. I might have forgotten or distorted some of the events if I hadn’t told someone immediately, although I am feeling somewhat weak. Perhaps Edith could bring me a little something to eat. I think that might help.”

  “Of course. How thoughtless of me. You haven’t eaten in close to three days now. It’s no wonder you’re weak. I’ll go down and see what they can rustle up for you,” he said, rising from the chair.

  “Thank you,” she replied. “And, Luther—you need not feel obligated to visit. I’ll be fine. Georgette and Edith won’t allow me to starve to death, and you have your business to look after,” she added.

  “Does that mean I’m unwelcome?” he asked, appearing to be pained by her words.

  “It doesn’t mean you’re unwelcome. It means merely that I know you have come out of your feeling of Christian duty and responsibility because I am your wife—at least by the letter of the law—”

  “And in the eyes of God,” he interrupted.

  “Definitely in the eyes of God, Luther. Just not in your eyes or your heart,” she said, turning her gaze from him.

  “How can you become a wife in my eyes and heart if you won’t even allow me to visit?” he asked in a defensive tone.

  “Whenever you want to visit me out of more than pity or a sense of duty, you are welcome. Until then, it’s best you stay away,” she answered.

  “I didn’t want to intrude, but I thought you might be hungry. Oh, Luther! I almost ran into you,” Edith said as she approached the doorway where Luther was standing.

  “I was just coming down to tell you that Maura was hungry,” Luther told the older woman.

  “Don’t let me rush you off. I’ll just set up this tray and be out of here,” Edith said as Luther moved around her.

  “I was leaving anyway. Take care of yourself, Maura. If there’s anything you need, send word,” he instructed, the thumping of his footsteps and slamming of the front door providing final evidence of his departure.

  ❧

  Maura quickly regained her strength; and although the women agreed that the restaurant would not open until after Christmas, they couldn’t forego the opportunity to entertain with a dinner party on Christmas Day. The Wilsons, Ballards, and Bergmans, as well as Michael and Luther, were all invited. Stanley Ballard operated the livery stable, Samuel Bergman was the new president of the Placerville Bank, and all of them regularly listened to Pastor Wilson on Sunday mornings. Georgette personally invited each of the couples and Michael.

  “I didn’t stop by the store. I thought you’d want to invite Luther personally,” Georgette said upon returning to the house.

  Maura watched as Georgette untied her dark blue bonnet and matching cape.

  “Was I wrong?” Georgette asked when Maura didn’t reply.

  “He’ll probably turn me down, and I’m not sure I can handle the humiliation.”

  “Maura Thorenson! I don’t want to seem unkind, but I wonder how he felt when you told him he didn’t need to bother visiting you. Seems I remember some passages from the Bible that we studied before I became a Christian. You’re the one who taught me about forgiveness and God’s grace. Do you remember what you said when I asked you how you could ever associate with the likes of me?”

  “Of course, I do. I told you that it was always a privilege to be associated with another child of the kingdom. But those circumstances were completely different. You had just accepted Jesus as your Savior and were feeling so unworthy. On the other hand, Luther has been a Christian for years, but look at how he’s treated me,” Maura retorted defensively.

  “Seems I recall something else you told me. Didn’t you say that sometimes Christians are so unforgiving and critical of each other that Satan can just sit around and enjoy the chaos they create for themselves?”

  “Georgette, I think you’re manipulating some of my teaching, trying to make it fit a totally different situation!”

  “Then why are you getting so upset? You know, Maura, you’ve been a Christian for years, too. It would appear to this newborn Christian that you both need to take a look at yourselves. I love you, Maura, but you’re just as wrong as Luther. He’s hurt you, and now you’re not going to be happy until you’ve made him suffer for that,” Georgette quietly answered.

  “You’ve become quite an authority, haven’t you? Let me tell you something, Georgette. You don’t know what it’s like to be different. You stand in front of me with a beautiful, whole body that any man would love. You haven’t lived through years of being stared at and whispered about—children pointing you out to their parents as if you were some type of monstrosity. You’ve received looks of adoration while I’ve received stares of disdain. It’s so easy for you to tell me I shouldn’t worry about receiving further humiliation from my husband,” Maura retorted, her voice having risen a full octave during the recitation.

  “I’m sorry, Maura. What was I thinking of? Here I am upsetting you, when the last thing you need is to become distressed. I’ll go and ask Luther, and if he s
ays anything that makes me think he’s coming out of pity, I’ll retract the invitation,” Georgette said, quickly removing her cape from the peg and placing it around her shoulders. “I’ll be back in just a few minutes. You look after Becca for just a little longer,” she instructed, tying the ribbons of her bonnet and then rushing out the front door before Maura could say anything further.

  The cool air felt good against her cheeks as Georgette walked quickly toward the general store. Why did I say those things to Maura? She’s the only true friend I’ve ever had, and now she’ll probably never speak to me again, Georgette thought, the idea causing her to grimace.

  “You look like you just lost your best friend,” Luther called out when she walked in the store, the dour look still etched on her face.

  “Perhaps I have,” she murmured, not loud enough for him to hear.

  “What’d you say? Couldn’t quite make out what you said,” he replied, moving from the far end of the store toward her.

  “Oh, nothing. I was just deep in thought. Maura and I were wondering if you would like to join us for Christmas dinner. The Wilsons, Ballards, and Bergmans have all agreed to attend, and, of course, Michael will be there,” she quickly explained.

  “Sounds like you’ve gathered most of the businessmen and their wives,” he answered with a smile.

  “Not quite. The majority of the businesses in Placerville will be open on Christmas. I don’t think the saloons and gambling halls ever close their doors, do you?”

  “Not if there’s any chance of making money, they don’t. And I imagine you’re right. A lot of the miners will be feeling melancholy and will come to town hoping to drown their holiday loneliness in liquor,” he replied.

  “That’s such a shame,” Georgette answered, as an idea be-gan to form. “You know, Luther, it would be wonderful if there were an alternative—something for those men to do besides get drunk.”

  “I don’t know what it would be. That’s usually the high point of coming to town—getting to the assay office and then the saloon,” he answered, not sure where the conversation was leading.