Child of Promise (12 page)

“One thing more. Due to the extent of Mary Sue’s injury, I’m concerned about possible circulatory and neurological complications for the first twenty-four hours or so. With your permission, Mr. Peterson, I’d like her to stay in the rectory’s spare bedroom tonight. That way I can check on her periodically to make certain there’s no permanent damage.”

Harlow frowned and looked to Doc. “Is this really necessary? I’m quite capable of taking care of my own wife.”

“Yes, I’m sure you are,” Doc said agreeably. “Still, sometimes the signs are very subtle and noted only by the trained eye. I must add my concurrence to Dr. MacKay’s recommendation.”

“Fine. Okay.” The banker rolled his eyes and sighed.

“First thing tomorrow morning, though, I intend to—”

“That’d be a wonderful idea,” Beth said. “I’ll alert Father Starr you’ll be stopping by. You can talk with him then and set up some times for more extended visits.”

Harlow hesitated, shooting his wife a questioning glance. “Is that acceptable to you, my dear?”

“Yes. I trust Dr. MacKay to know what’s best for me.”

He retrieved his hat from the desk where he’d placed it, nodded, then turned on his heel and stalked from the room. When the front door closed behind him, Beth smiled at Mary Sue.

“I hope you don’t mind my forcing your stay at the rectory tonight. I just thought it best you both have a time to cool off.”

“Rather,” Mary Sue offered dryly, “you thought it best
Harlow
have a time to cool off. But it’s okay.” She stood. “Shall we go? It’s getting late, and tomorrow promises to be a trying day.”

“Yes, let’s be on our way.” Beth indicated the door. “It’s best we all get as much sleep as we can, to prepare us for tomorrow.”

Thankfully, their arrival at the rectory didn’t wake Millie. Beth soon had Mary Sue tucked in Millie’s old bed upstairs, her arm propped up on several pillows. After checking Mary Sue’s fingers for adequate circulation, she left the woman to her rest.

Though hesitant to disturb Noah at midnight, Beth thought it best to inform him he had an extra houseguest. She rapped softly on his bedroom door and was soon rewarded with the sound of footsteps. A few moments later, Noah opened the door.

He was barefoot, clad in trousers and a hastily and lopsidedly buttoned shirt. His hair was tousled, his expression still groggy from sleep. It took all Beth’s control not to grin at his boyishly endearing appearance.

“What’s wrong?” Noah asked. “Is Millie worse?”

“No. Millie’s fine and sound asleep. I just wanted to alert you to the fact Mary Sue Peterson’s using Millie’s room tonight.” She pointed two doors down. “
That
room.”

A dark blond brow arched in puzzlement. “This sounds like a longer story than can be told standing out here in the hallway. Why don’t you put on a pot of water while I finish dressing? I’ll meet you in the kitchen shortly.”

“I didn’t mean to keep you from your sleep,” Beth said by way of protest. “It can wait until—”

He held a silencing finger to his lips. “Downstairs. Five minutes.”

Beth knew no purpose was served in arguing further. Besides, all this talk might wake Emily, not to mention upset Mary Sue. She nodded, then turned and headed back down the hall to the stairs.

Five minutes later, Noah joined her in the kitchen. The kettle was already on the stove and the coals were stoked back to a nice little fire. Beth glanced up from the mugs she was setting on the table.

“I’m sorry to have awakened you,” she hurried to explain, keeping her voice low. “I just thought you should know, since it’s your house, and I didn’t want any embarrassing surprises in the morning.”

Noah smiled wryly as he took a seat at the table. “Nice of you to remember it’s my house
after
you invited in a houseguest. Still, I know you wouldn’t have done it unless you thought it necessary. And, if I don’t miss my guess, this smacks of something that might well involve me at any rate.”

“Well, yes, it might. Since Harlow has agreed to pay you a visit tomorrow, and you’ll soon see the extent of Mary Sue’s injuries, I guess I’m not really revealing anything you won’t soon know for yourself.”

Beth pulled out a chair as quietly as possible and took a seat. Although Noah had combed his hair, rebuttoned and tucked in his shirt, and put on shoes, the image of him when he had first opened his bedroom door kept coming to mind.

Beth couldn’t shake the feeling of intimacy between them, of trust and respect. It was almost as if, bit by bit, they were growing closer, more comfortable with each other. But Beth tried to clear her mind of such thoughts. She had a patient to take care of.

“Mary Sue and her husband had a fight tonight. It resulted in Mary Sue falling down the stairs. She suffered a broken arm. Harlow now sports a bruised cheekbone.”

Noah frowned. “I’ve heard rumors they were having marital difficulties. Sounds like those difficulties have escalated now, though, to some dangerous heights.”

“Doc and I got Harlow to agree to come see you tomorrow. In the meanwhile, I thought it best Mary Sue spend at least tonight away from her husband.”

He nodded. “Might not hurt. I’d imagine they both need a little time to think things over.”

“If it was up to me,” Beth muttered, “I’d like to see Mary Sue leave that brute for good. I don’t hold out much hope Harlow Peterson’s the kind of man to change his ways.”

“The Lord willing, there’s always hope. Harlow’s got his problems, but he’s a man of his word. And he gave his word to cleave to Mary Sue through good times and bad.”

“That may be,” she said, “but those bad times might eventually also be the death of Mary Sue.”

“We won’t let it come to that, you and I.” Noah reached over and took her hand. “Now that the truth is out in the open, we can work together on this.”

Beth smiled. Noah’s hand felt good upon hers. His presence, this night in this kitchen, seemed so natural, as if it always had been meant to be this way. She could almost imagine what it’d be like to sit here with him every night from now on . . . as man and wife.

With a jerk, Beth recoiled from such a thought. All they could ever be was friends. Friends who might indeed be able to work together for the good of Grand View. But only to serve others, and never, ever, themselves.

12

When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.

1 Corinthians 13:11

With a rising sense of frustration and futility, Noah watched Harlow Peterson, Mary Sue in tow, storm from his office. Their meeting had not gone well.

Apparently fortified by a good night’s sleep and the leisure to think on what had transpired the evening before, Harlow wasted no time setting the record straight. Over the past year, he claimed, his wife had become increasingly irrational, her mood swings frequently culminating in violent out–bursts. Last night was only one of many.

Mary Sue, instead of defending herself, had begun weeping silently; nothing Noah said or did could extract any comment from her. His exasperation rising, he had then been forced to direct all his efforts at Harlow.

And Harlow had refused to accept any blame in the events leading to last night’s battle. He was only trying to defend himself, he said, when Mary Sue lost control and began striking out at him. Her fall down the stairs was her own fault.

The final insult to Noah’s intelligence, however, had been when Harlow claimed it was only because he was a good Christian that he even tolerated his wife’s presence in his home anymore. Noah lost the last of his rapidly shredding patience and accused Harlow of being a hypocrite and a fool. No decent man—Christian or not—treated a woman, much less his wife, in the manner Harlow treated Mary Sue.

Now as he sat alone in his office contemplating the aftermath of the disastrous meeting, Noah deeply regretted his heated words. It just tore at his heart, though, how beaten down and hopeless Mary Sue had seemed. He had known her for almost thirteen years. She was no longer the woman she had formerly been.

True, Mary Sue had once been a spoiled, spiteful young woman. But she had also possessed a sparkle and wit and passion for life. With her lush ebony hair and flashing, vibrant blue eyes, Mary Sue had been the belle of Grand View. Though she had tried and failed to win the heart of every MacKay man at Culdee Creek at one time or another, she had otherwise never lacked for suitors.

As the years passed, however, Mary Sue considered and cast aside all potential mates. Maybe the rest of the men had been, in her estimation, beneath her. Whatever her reasons, spinsterhood was fast approaching when Harlow Peterson came to town. And though at first their marriage had seemed a happy one, rumors had gradually filtered even to Noah’s ears. Rumors, until Beth MacKay’s arrival, no one dared examine too closely.

Noah sighed and pushed himself up from his chair. He had been no better than the rest. He had hoped the Petersons would work out their marital difficulties on their own. It wasn’t his business to pry into anyone’s private life, especially when it might disrupt a holy union sanctioned in the eyes of God.

He couldn’t ignore the situation anymore, though, Noah thought as he entered the kitchen and headed toward Millie and Beth’s bedroom. Whether Harlow wished it or not, it was his duty as pastor to help Mary Sue and Harlow salvage what was left of their marriage, then teach them how to rebuild it into one pleasing to the Lord.

Millie was awake, reading her Bible. As he paused at the bedroom door to knock politely, she laid her Bible aside and turned toward him.

“Come on in, honey.” Through her labored breathing, she smiled in welcome. “It’s so unusual to see you still at home . . . this late in the morning.”

“It’s a long story,” Noah said with a sigh as he pulled a chair up close to her bed. He hesitated, recalling that Luanne Stout was somewhere in the house. “Mind if I close the door?”

“Sure. Luanne’s upstairs, though . . . playing with Emily. I don’t expect her . . . down here anytime soon.”

Noah climbed to his feet, walked over, and shut the door. “Well, I’d still feel better having some privacy. Besides needing advice, I just plain want to talk.”

“So, what keeps you here . . . so late in the morning?” Millie asked when Noah was seated.

“Had a talk with Harlow and Mary Sue Peterson. It didn’t go well.”

“I’m sorry . . . to hear that.”

“I lost my temper with Harlow.” Noah shook his head. “I don’t know what’s the matter with me. Of late, I don’t seem to have the patience and compassion I know I should.”

“You’ve been under . . . a lot of pressure.” Millie turned over onto her back. “It’s not easy on anyone . . . seeing a loved one slipping away.”

Noah glanced down. “What’s wrong with me, Millie? If anyone should be able to accept death, it should be me. Death is but the final bridge we must cross to a full and eternal union with the Lord. But I can’t . . . I can’t see it that way anymore!”

“Why not, honey? What has changed . . . from what you used to believe?”

“Losing Alice shook me to the core of my being. And now to lose you, too. . . .” He shook his head. “I question God’s mercy. I question His wisdom. I don’t understand Him anymore.”

“And when has any of that been necessary . . . in order to love and serve the Lord? Indeed, aren’t we but arrogant fools . . . ever to presume to know the Lord’s mind?”

“Perhaps we are, but what can I give to His people if I suddenly feel as if the Lord has turned His back on me and walked away?”

Millie chuckled softly. “I was just reading the story . . . about Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead. Lazarus and his two sisters . . . must have felt that same sense of desertion when Lazarus was sick and Jesus wouldn’t come. I wonder what Lazarus thought . . . at the moment of his death? Did he feel betrayed by his friend? Or did he die in faith . . . certain even in his dying that the Lord’s will . . . would be done, and that was all that really mattered?”

Millie paused to catch her breath and reached out to put her hand on his arm. “Because, for God’s will to be done . . . in that instance, Lazarus
had
to die. In his surrendering to the unknown . . . of death, however, Lazarus was reborn . . . and the Lord was glorified.” Her eyes shone with a joyous light. “That’s why I surrender . . . to whatever fate the Lord wishes for me. In my loving surrender, I further God’s will. My living—and my dying—glorifies Him. As will yours, in your acceptance and surrender . . . to whatever happens to me.”

“But I need you, Millie! God knows that. You’re my greatest mentor and friend. Who’ll I come to, to speak of God and things eternal, when you’re gone? I need your wisdom. I need your strength. I need your example to guide and inspire me!”

“Trust in the Lord, honey. He’ll not long . . . leave you bereft. Perhaps, just perhaps, in His wisdom God has decided it’s time for you to move on, to set aside childish things . . . and become the man of strength and maturity He has always wanted you to be. And perhaps, to do that, He must purge you . . . of your dependency on me, of the things of this world that have tethered you overlong. You want to fly . . . don’t you? Fly to the Lord?”

“Yes. Yes, I’ve always wanted that, but instead of feeling closer to doing that, I feel . . . I feel . . .” Noah groaned and lowered his head, burying his face in his hands. “I feel as if I’m sinking farther and farther into the muck and mire of this life.”

“Then stand fast. Never despair. The Lord may well . . . be working to bring you to a higher level of union with Him. But with each breakthrough there are always . . . crises of trust and faith.” She touched his head. “It seems our souls stretch, grow best, that way.”

Noah looked up at her. “I know that, Millie. Deep down, I know that. I just get so lost and confused sometimes. You help me so much to sort things through.”

“You talk with Beth a lot these days. It gladdens my heart . . . to see you making a friend, and a close one, too.”

He smiled, straightened, and laid his head against the chair’s high back. “Yes, little by little I think Beth’s coming to trust me. And I hope someday to learn the source of the great pain she carries so closely to her heart. That, I think, is the key to healing her wounds.”

“You care about her, don’t you?”

“Yes, I care,” he said carefully. “I’ve known her for so long that she almost feels like—”

“That’s not what I mean, Noah Starr, and you know it!”

The vehemence of Millie’s words set off a spell of coughing. Noah stood, took up the glass of water at her bedside, and offered it to his aunt. Millie accepted the water and, by-the-by, the coughing eased. But she was not to be deterred.

“You love Beth. Don’t you?”

The blood drained from Noah’s face. His eyes widened; he swallowed hard. But even with Millie, he lacked sufficient courage to name the desires still raging hotly within him.

“Love her?” He laughed unsteadily. “Why would you ever think that? Beth and I . . . well, we’re just friends.”

Millie snorted with disbelief. “Same story I heard from her . . . after a mess of blushing and hemming and hawing. For pity’s sake, why don’t you two sit down . . . really talk to each other for a change? You might be very pleasantly surprised at what you discover.”

“It’s not as simple as that.” Noah made an exasperated motion indicating the room with all of Beth’s belongings scattered around it. “She’s a boarder here, not to mention the daughter of my best friend. If you’re wrong about Beth’s feelings for me, my broaching such a subject could make for a very uncomfortable situation. Besides, I’ve no intention of ever marrying again. One heartbreaking loss of a wife was more than enough!”

“So I’m supposed to hang around a while longer just because you’re too afraid to give life . . . and love another chance? Is that how it is?”

Noah stared up at his aunt in confusion. “Whatever does Beth have to do with you?”

“Oh, never mind.” She waved him away. “Get on with you. It’s impossible to talk to you . . . when you get this way. Just get on with you!”

He rose, paused as he struggled with something to say, then gave up. His aunt had turned her face away from him, but he could still see her tightly pursed lips and stern expression. Best to let her cool down a bit, then try again.

“Have it your way,” he said, walking to the door. “You always do in the end anyway. I’ll leave your door open, though, in case you need anything. And I’ll tell Luanne I’m leaving. She should maybe bring Emily downstairs now.”

“Yes, you do that, honey,” Millie said, her voice softening a bit. “Will you be home for lunch today?”

“Probably not.” Noah stifled a grin. As always, his aunt’s bursts of temper never lasted long. “This morning’s work has put me behind as it is. I’ll try and make it home for supper, though.”

With that, Noah turned and strode from the room.

The snow fell all day, covering the land with a thick, white blanket that only grew deeper as the hours passed. The sky took on the leaden color of a storm growing in strength and power. Clouds sagged with the weight of rising moisture, until it became difficult to see more than a few yards above or ahead. And then the wind picked up, howling wildly as it careened between buildings and down the streets.

Noah glanced up from the sermon he was preparing for tomorrow’s service on Sunday, January 30, and frowned. January and February were traditionally the most bitter, snow-laden winter months in these parts. The pending storm, however, promised to be one of the worst he had ever seen.

He laid down his pen and glanced at his desk clock. Half past three. Save for a few finishing touches, his sermon was done. Though he made it a policy not to take work home with him, today was an exception. The weather outside would only get worse. The thought of watching it from the warm, snug haven of the rectory with Millie, Emily, and Beth held great appeal.

It was frigid outside, well below zero, he noted as he paused to check the thermometer nailed beside the church’s side door. Noah turned up his collar, hunched down in his coat’s thick, woolen warmth, and made a dash down the street toward the rectory.

The dash, however, quickly slowed to a trudge through the knee-high drifts. By the time he stomped into the rectory’s entry, he was coated from head to toe in thick, fat flakes.

“Oh, thank the Lord!” Luanne ran into the entry as Noah stood there, slapping off as much snow as he could from his clothing. “I was hoping you’d come home early, Father Starr. It’s a long walk to my house, and what with the snow getting so deep . . .”

“Would you like me to hitch up the horse and buggy and take you home?” he asked. “I’d be glad to, you know.”

“Well, if you wouldn’t mind too much, Father Starr.” Her expression brightened. “And then, on the way back, you could fetch Dr. MacKay, too. She hasn’t come home from the clinic yet, but she sure needs to right soon, don’t you think?”

“Yes, I think so, too.” He hung his coat on the coatrack. “Let me just check first with Millie. And where’s Emily?”

“Emily’s in with Millie. They’re both still napping.”

“Okay. That should be all right. We’ll only be gone about fifteen minutes or so.” Noah took up his coat again, donned it over his woolen neck scarf, slipped on his gloves, and added a knit woolen cap to his head. “Stay inside here until I bring the buggy around. Then come on out with those two lap robes in the trunk there.”