Woodlands

by Robin Jones Gunn

  Leah smiled broadly as she read the back of the postcard from Venice.

  I looked up the verse you sent with the money, and I’ve thought about it a lot. I agree. It is the blessing of the Lord that makes us rich, and He adds no sorrow to it.

  Leah gazed into the cheery fire and tried to remember where she had heard that phrase before. It wasn’t from one of Jessica’s three-by-five cards. For some reason, she could hear Mavis’s voice when she thought of the verse.

  Then she remembered. It was the last thing Franklin had said to Leah the day she visited him before he passed away. Mavis had noted he had been saying it ever since the lawyer had come to change the will.

  “The blessing of the Lord makes us rich, and He adds no sorrow to it,” Leah whispered into the firelight. “I agree with that.” She felt a settled confidence that Seth believed that as well. His life so far was evidence that he had not lived to gain riches. Seth impressed her as someone who was living for God’s blessing, not man’s. That was certainly how Franklin had lived.

  Leah read the last lines of the postcard.

  Thanks again for the money. Here’s one of my favorite verses for you to look up. Zeph. 3:17.

  Seth

  The double doors of the library opened, and Leah turned to see Seth entering. He was clean-shaven and wearing fresh clothes. She smiled as he grabbed a strawberry before coming over to sit beside her on the couch.

  “What do you have there?” he asked.

  “Do you recognize these?” Leah held up the postcards.

  It took Seth a moment. He turned one over and viewed his own handwriting. A smile came across his face. “Where did you get them?”

  “Franklin’s safe-deposit box.”

  “Those were in his safe-deposit box?”

  “Yes, that’s all that was in it. He kept these on his coffee table for years, and I would always stare at them. I had a private conversation going with this gondolier.” She handed Seth the postcard.

  He read the back. “ ‘The blessing of the Lord makes us rich.’ So that’s where I first heard that verse.”

  “And what’s the verse in Zephaniah?” Leah asked.

  “That’s been my favorite since I was a kid. You probably know it, too. ‘The LORD thy God in the midst of thee is mighty, he will save, he will rejoice over thee with joy, he will rest in his love, he will joy over thee with singing.’ ”

  Leah didn’t know that verse. “Wait, what was the last part again?”

  “ ‘He will joy over thee with singing.’ ”

  Leah took the postcard from Seth and stared at the picture of the gondolier. She felt her lungs squeeze and the pulse pound in her throat.

  “Are you okay?” Seth asked.

  “I’m not supposed to sing,” she said in a whisper. “That’s what Jessica said today. I’m not supposed to be the one singing.”

  “I don’t follow you.”

  Tears rushed to Leah’s eyes, as she held the postcard for Seth and tried to explain what had just become so clear. “The gondolier. It’s the Lord. He’s been inviting me to rest in this pocket of grace for so long, but I’ve been the one doing all the steering. My whole life I had to be in control, even if I didn’t know which canal to go down.”

  Seth reached over and wiped away a tear. He looked at her compassionately; yet his expression showed he didn’t have a clue what she was rambling on about.

  “It’s from your verse, Seth. ‘The winter is past and the season of singing has come.’ Only I’m not the one who’s supposed to do the singing. Jesus is the Gondolier of my life. He wants me to rest in his pocket of grace while he decides which canal to take me down.”

  The tears came in a steady cascade. “Do you understand what I’m saying at all? It’s my season of Judah. I choose to praise God instead of trying to prove myself good enough for him. I finally get it! I don’t have to steer the boat and sing the songs and do everything. Jesus is the Gondolier. I rest. Here.” She pointed at the pillows cushioning the gondola. “He steers, he leads, and he sings over me. That’s what I never understood. He’s the one who does the singing.”

  Seth opened his arms, and Leah leaned against his chest, sobbing. She felt so free. Pulling away, with a ripple of laughter, she said, “Honest, Seth, I never in my life have cried as much as I have this last month.”

  “You know how I feel about your tears.” Seth stroked her hair.

  “It’s just that I never understood before. Not the way I understand now. He sings over me!”

  Chapter Forty

  Leah wasn’t sure if Seth completely understood what she was saying. It didn’t matter. She understood. And her relationship with the Lord would never be the same.

  Drying her tears and composing herself, Leah tucked the postcards back into her purse and tried another sip of her tea, which had cooled too much for her to drink.

  Seth checked his watch. “Almost six.”

  “I’m ready,” Leah said.

  She and Seth strolled to The Loft restaurant with their arms around each other. Collin was already seated.

  Leah resisted the urge to control the conversation. She sat back in her chair and opened her menu, as if this were just dinner with two friends.

  Collin waited until they had ordered before saying, “I don’t know that much needs to be said at this point. It’s obvious, Leah, you’ve made some choices about whom to trust.”

  Leah remembered Seth’s words from earlier in the lobby. “Collin, I’ve learned a few things today. One is that Christ is the only one I can trust completely. He’s the only one who won’t ever let me down. Humans make mistakes all the time.”

  Collin’s expression registered his surprise. “Perhaps as a professional advisor, I should mention it can be risky to trust your future to people who have made mistakes in the past.”

  “I think it’s even riskier to trust people who manipulate the truth.”

  Collin looked intrigued.

  “I don’t want to play any games, Collin. I just need to say that I felt it was unfair of you to try to gain my sympathy by telling me that your wife had been killed in a car accident. I happen to know you had been divorced for two years when she died, and the child she was carrying wasn’t yours.”

  Collin squinted at Leah as if he couldn’t believe she had detective powers that could uncover such information. Seth appeared equally surprised.

  “I’m sure it was still a very painful experience for you,” Leah continued. “But if you plan to stay in Glenbrooke and continue your father’s practice, I think it would help you to know that the people your father has served for years are honest people who expect the truth. That’s all, Collin, just tell the truth.”

  Collin paused, studying Leah. “You are an exceptional woman, Leah Hudson. I said it before, and I’ll say it again. It’s my loss I didn’t recognize that when we were in high school.”

  Leah felt her candy apple cheeks doing what they loved to do. Yet she didn’t try to hide their blushing. She looked openly at Collin and said, “I don’t think I knew who I was in high school. But I know who I am now, and I hope we can be friends. I’d like the three of us to be friends.”

  Collin’s appearance softened. “I’d like that as well, Leah.”

  Seth spoke up. “Before I’d be real comfortable with that, I think you and I have a few things to settle. First, I understand you have a file on me. I’m sure it’s legal or else you wouldn’t have it.”

  Glancing at Leah, Seth continued, “I told Leah everything, and I would like you to know that I have nothing to hide. Everything I said in your office yesterday was true. I didn’t know the will had been changed. I didn’t come to Glenbrooke in search of my great-uncle’s fortune. I came here for medical reasons. I agree with Leah that I, like all the other people of Glenbrooke, expect honesty and decency from a man in your position. I look forward to your display of those qualities as we continue to do business together.”

  Collin looked at Leah and then back at Seth. He h
esitated before saying, “My apologies. To both of you.”

  The waiter arrived with their food, and Seth asked if he could offer a prayer.

  They ate quietly for a few minutes before Collin said, “If I might add my own swan song here, I’d like to say a few things. I moved back to Glenbrooke looking for something. I think you’ve both helped me to see what that was. I missed the honesty and integrity I grew up with. I guess some of my old business ways followed me back home. Consider your words taken to heart. I appreciate your honesty. Both of you. I’d highly value a friendship with you.”

  Leah felt relieved. She also was impressed that Collin had responded so well.

  After that the conversation flowed more easily and freely. Collin agreed to destroy the file he had on Seth. Then, because Leah knew Collin was still probably dying to know, she told him about the postcards being the only treasure in the safe-deposit box. She pulled them from her purse and showed them to him.

  “ ‘It’s the blessing of the Lord that makes us rich,’ ” Collin read. “I remember hearing Franklin say that once when I went with my father to pay him a visit.”

  “ ‘And He adds no sorrow to it,’ ” Seth added.

  Collin nodded somberly, turning over the postcards and examining each of the pictures. Leah couldn’t help but smile when he studied the postcard from Venice. She knew that no one else would ever see what she saw in that picture. She already had plans to frame it so she would always remember what had become so clear to her today, that the Gondolier daily invites her to ride with him while he does all the work and chooses the right canals. And most importantly, that he expresses his delight by singing over her.

  “So you two are heading back to Glenbrooke tonight?” Collin asked.

  Seth and Leah both nodded.

  “Is there anything I can do for either of you?”

  Seth said, “No, thanks.”

  Leah was about to echo the same answer, but then she had a thought. “Actually, Collin, you could do one thing for me.”

  “Name it.”

  Twenty minutes later, Seth and Leah were on the road in his Subaru station wagon, heading south for Glenbrooke.

  “Ready for this?” Leah asked.

  Seth nodded. Leah held Seth’s portable CD player in her lap and inserted the CD she had borrowed from Collin. Into the air floated the rich, romantic voice of an Italian tenor, singing his heart out.

  Leah pulled the paper insert from the CD case and told Seth, “This says the title of this song in English is ‘I’ll Go with You.’ ”

  Seth smiled at her. “It’s true, George. I will go with you.”

  “And I’ll go with you,” Leah said, reaching over and slipping her hand into his.

  Leah leaned back and closed her eyes. She could clearly picture a charming cottage tucked away in the clearing of a certain woodland where the sunbeams shot through the trees like bronzed javelins thrust from the heavens. She reveled in thoughts of Seth’s kisses in the golden light of those woodlands. Bungee would have a yard to play in.

  Leah looked over at Seth, wondering what he was thinking. She couldn’t keep back the smile that had broken out as she studied the profile of the man with whom she knew she would spend the rest of her life.

  “I was thinking,” Seth said, glancing at Leah.

  “Yes?”

  “You don’t have to say anything right away. Take all the time you want to think about it.”

  “Yes?” Leah waited for Seth to finish. She felt as if the Gondolier was steering their course home to Glenbrooke, and she and Seth had fallen together into this pocket of grace. As the soaring notes of the Italian love song showered over them, Leah whispered under her breath, “Oh, Lion of Judah, keep singing over us. Sing over us with joy!”

  “I was wondering,” Seth said. “What would you think of a honeymoon in Venice?”

  Dear Reader,

  During my teen years, which were spent in southern California, every Fourth of July my family visited friends at the beach. The summer I was fourteen, I was sitting on the beach watching the waves when “Uncle” Bob leaned over and said, “You do know, don’t you, that the Lord sings over you?”

  I had no idea what he was talking about. I did know that Bob was full of surprises. He wrote clever poetry, and his wife, Madelyn, decorated their beachfront home with his original oil paintings of their favorite Hawaiian locations. He had hung a swing from their vaulted ceiling for their three children. And he was one of the first God-lovers I ever met.

  As the summer sun poured over us that July afternoon, I squinted at Uncle Bob in response to his remark. He added with a nod, “It’s true. The Lord sings over you, Robin. It’s in the Bible so I know it’s true.” He quoted Zephaniah 3:17, “He will joy over thee with singing.”

  I felt as if I had been handed a secret key that unlocked one of the mysteries of God. The Lord sings over me!

  That knowledge became sweeter than just knowing that God loved me. It was deeper than believing Christ had died for me. It was more promising than trusting that one day Christ would return and take me to be with him.

  The Lord sings over me! God takes delight in being with me!

  My soul’s response was to promise to always take delight in him. His singing over me became evidence that God liked me. He was the eternal romancer. The relentless lover. The one who always wants me back.

  As I wrote about Leah, I felt she represented so many women I know who haven’t yet realized God takes delight in them simply because they are his daughters. I wanted Leah to discover this truth and to realize it wasn’t up to her to direct her life down each “canal” she came to. I like the way she yielded to the Gondolier and finally settled into his pocket of grace. I want to live like that every day.

  My friend, you do know, don’t you, that the Lord rejoices over you with singing? It says so in his Book so I know it’s true.

  Always,

  WOODLANDS RECIPES

  My son decided he liked spinach when he was in third grade. The school’s cafeteria served spinach once a week, and none of the other kids could believe my son actually ate it. He came home one day with a story about how he not only ate all his spinach, but he also powered down most of the other kids’ servings. They hailed him as having performed some kind of inhuman feat. (In third grade, I guess we all take whatever fame we can get.)

  I asked my son what made the school spinach so good, and he said it was “all mixed up with cheese in in.” I began to experiment with a spinach soufflé recipe until he said it was just as good as the cafeteria spinach. It’s still his favorite. I make it every Thanksgiving, Christmas, and a dozen other times during the year. And, I have to say, it doesn’t feel like a feat at all to pack away a considerable amount of spinach—even if no third-graders are surrounding you and cheering you on.

  I think Leah would have come up with the same recipe, which is why I call it “Leah’s Spinach.”

  I must tell you I really goofed on this easy recipe once. We were having company for dinner, and in my haste, I bought frozen collard greens instead of spinach. It wasn’t until our poor company dug in and took the first bite that I realized something was wrong. I’ll never forget the look on that poor guy’s face! So whatever you do, don’t substitute chopped collard greens. It makes for a bitter surprise.

  LEAH’S SPINACH

  6 boxes frozen, chopped spinach (10-ounce size)

  6 large eggs

  1 cup monterey jack cheese, grated

  3 slices bread, crumbled into crumbs

  few pats of butter

  salt and pepper

  Thaw the spinach and drain excess water. Place spinach in oven-safe soufflé bowl (or casserole dish). Mix in the grated cheese. Add a few shakes of salt and pepper. In a separate bowl, beat all six eggs and pour over spinach and cheese and mix together. Cover mixture with breadcrumbs and dot with a few pats of butter. Bake for 30 minutes in a 350-degree oven.

  IDA’S LEMONADE

  Berries are plent
iful in the Northwest each summer so it’s easy to think of creative ways to include berries in our summer menu. Here’s a recipe for fresh lemonade with berries, one of Ida’s secret ingredients.

  1 1/2 cups berries, washed and hulled

  1 cup fresh-squeezed lemon juice (about 6 lemons)

  3/4 cup sugar

  4 cups cold water

  Combine the berries, lemon juice, and sugar in a blender or food processor. Blend until smooth. Pour into a large pitcher. Add cold water and squeeze half a lime over the top. Stir well and add ice. Ah, the joys of summer!