Silent Star (8 page)

He looked at the envelope as well. “Is your sister-in-law home?”

“Kay! Mama!” she called out.

Andy looked up and saw there were tears streaming down Mary Beth’s face. He heard her whisper her brother’s name and it nearly broke his heart in two. He searched his soul for something to say—something to give comfort—but found nothing. How could he, the reason for her misery, also offer her consolation?

Kay was there first, with Mrs. Iseman close behind. They met Andy’s gaze with a look of disbelief and then of terror. Kay shook her head as Andy extended the telegram.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Mary Beth’s mother began screaming. “No! No! Not my boy!”

Mary Beth hurried to her mother’s side—never looking back at Andy—while Kay stoically gathered her wits, reached to take the telegram, and then closed the door.

Andy could still hear the cries and knew he was not wanted there. He was an outsider—their worst nightmare come true. Gone were the warm feelings from the McGovern house. The closed door said it all.

Andy walked to Mrs. Nelson’s house. He was supposed to share supper with her tonight—he’d promised her. But he didn’t feel like company. He didn’t want to sit and make small talk about the day or about how the war was supposed to be over by Christmas. He especially didn’t want to talk about Christmas.

He missed his mom and dad more than ever. This was his first Christmas without his mom and the loneliness of it was almost more than he could stand. Mrs. Nelson’s faithful friendship helped soften the blow, but she couldn’t be with him all the time. She had her own life and friends. She had church and other things that were more important.

He stood on the step and wondered if it might not be better to just go home.
But isn’t this what you wanted? Someone to care, someone to welcome you inside so that you don’t have to simply watch from the outside?
But even though it was true, Andy suddenly wanted to run away. He looked behind him to the street, then back to the house. Before he could change his mind, however, Mrs. Nelson peeked out the window and smiled. She opened the door and reached out to pull him in. Welcoming him as she always did with her gentleness and love.

“Andy. I thought you’d never get here. Come in and warm up by the stove.”

Estella watched Andy as he shrugged out of his coat and hat. He had a look of complete defeat on his face. “What’s wrong, Andy?”

“I had to take a telegram to Mary Beth’s house.”

Estella sighed. She could well imagine the sorrow in that house just now. “That was the first one you’ve delivered to them, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“So their boy is missing in action. We knew it might come to this. Remember what Mary Beth said the other day? She knew it was a strong possibility.”

Andy held his hands out toward the stove. “But knowing that doesn’t make it any easier.”

Estella hung up his coat and set his hat on the hall table.
Lord,
she prayed,
let me speak wisely—speak for me.
She turned to Andy. “Come on. I have supper just about ready for us. I’ve made some stew. We can talk while we eat.”

Andy said nothing and Estella knew he was deep in thought about Mary Beth. “I know you’re worried about them,” she said softly. “I’ll go visit them tomorrow and let you know how they’re doing.”

His dark blue eyes closed as he stood there. “I wanted to say something to help, but I couldn’t. I knew nothing would help.”

“No, just then nothing would. Sometimes folks don’t need to hear a word, though. Andy, you’ve got a big heart and eventually people are going to know this for themselves. I’m sure Mary Beth knows you care and that you wouldn’t have wanted her hurt this way.”

He opened his eyes and Estella could see they were wet with unshed tears. “No, I wouldn’t have seen her hurt for the world. She’s the only person, besides you, who’s been nice to me since the war and all the telegrams.”

Estella knew the truth of it. “Let’s eat our supper and you can tell me about your day.” She motioned him to the chair opposite her own. “I’ll pray first, if you don’t mind.”

Andy bowed his head without protest. Estella offered a brief but heartfelt thanks for their dinner. She asked too that God would go to each grieving family in their town and offer them solace. When she finished, she reached for Andy’s bowl and began to ladle the stew.

“Do you really think God will comfort them?”

The question took her by surprise, but she tried her best not to show it. “Of course I do. Do you doubt it?”

“I just think if God cared so very much, He might not have allowed the war at all. He wouldn’t take away the people we love if He cared about our comfort and wanted us happy.”

Estella handed him his bowl. “I suppose that’s one way of looking at it. It is a mystery as to why such things have to happen. I know my own heart nearly breaks when I think about all those young men dying for the cause of freedom.”

“But don’t you think God rather heartless to allow all of those deaths?”

Estella filled her own bowl, then looked up to meet Andy’s questioning gaze. “The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Who am I to question God?”

“What you really mean is who am
I
to question God. I know I haven’t been living the way you do—going to church and all. I know that’s the way my mama raised me to believe, but . . . well . . .”

“But it hurts to believe,” Estella finished his unspoken thought.

Andy lowered his gaze and nodded. “It hurts.”

“Oh, Andy, believe me, I know exactly what you mean. When Howard died I thought I’d never feel right again. My days were so lonely and my nights unbearable. I wandered through this house looking for some way to make things right, but nothing helped. We could never have children, so
his presence didn’t even live on in his sons and daughters. All I had were my memories.”

“That’s all I have—but they’re not enough.” Andy sank back against the chair. “Sometimes I can’t even remember the good times. I think about how hard the years were prior to the war, how hard my father worked. I think about the hopes they had for me. My pa wanted me to do better than he did—to have more.”

“He wanted good things for you. Every parent wants good things for their child.”

Andy shrugged. “But he’s gone and I don’t know what those good things were. I don’t know what it was he was working so hard to provide.”

Estella smiled and thought of all she might have offered her own child. “He wanted to give you security . . . happiness . . . well-being. He wanted you to have a strong faith in the Lord, or so I would presume. Above all, he’d want you to love and to be loved. The Lord wants no less for you. After all, God is love.”

“He doesn’t seem very loving. Look at what He’s done to His world.”

“What He’s done?” Estella questioned. “Seems to me that man’s greed and lust for power started this war.”

“But God is supposed to be all-powerful—all-knowing. Why not stop something like that before it got started? Why didn’t He stop the car accident that took my father and left me lame? Why didn’t he keep my mother from getting sick? Was it too hard for Him? Or did He just stop caring?”

Estella wanted to weep for the boy. She felt his misery—heard his anguished questions.
Oh, God, make him understand. Let him feel your love.

“Andy, God loves you very much. He’s never stopped caring for you. I know it’s hard to believe that, but I have no doubts on this issue. The world may be at war, but it isn’t happening because God doesn’t care. God allows us certain choices, and those choices aren’t always made wisely. Wars
will come and go. People will live and die. It doesn’t mean that God doesn’t love us. This season of the year is a good reminder of that love. Christmas is all about God’s love for mankind—for each person. And it’s about hope. You mustn’t lose hope, Andy.”

“But I feel most alone
at
church. If God loves me so much, then why do I feel so rejected—so unloved? Especially there?”

She studied the redheaded boy for a moment. He looked so forlorn, so young. Here he was a man in full, but his needs were as great as those of a lost child trying to find his way home.

“Jesus felt rejected too. His best friends left Him when He needed them most,” Estella finally said. “He knows how it feels to be an outsider, to have everyone shut their door to Him—to turn away. The night He was betrayed and turned over to those who would kill Him, Jesus experienced exactly what you’re experiencing now.”

She reached out and touched his arm. He met her gaze, his expression suggesting that he wanted very much to believe her. “Andy, Jesus knows the wound others have given you. He knows its depth and width. He knows the pain. But, Andy, He also knows how to mend this wound—how to make your heart whole again.”

“I want to believe that,” he murmured. “But I can’t. If He felt this way—if He loves us—why would He ever allow us to feel like this?”

“Oh, Andy, He does love us. There’s no
if
about it.”

“I don’t know what to do,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m not good at figuring things out.”

She smiled and put her hand atop his. “Start by being my friend—and let me be your friend in return.”

He looked at her for a moment without speaking, then finally nodded. “I’ll always be your friend, Mrs. Nelson.”

“Thank you, Andy. I needed to hear that.” And in truth, she did. For reasons that were beyond her understanding, she needed him. And without a doubt—he needed her.

SIX

Estella stood outside Andy’s house and knocked on the door. She knew it was probably a futile attempt, but she intended to invite him to accompany her to the Christmas Eve services at the church that night. She’d already asked him once, but he’d wanted no part of it.

Mary Beth had encouraged her to try again. They’d seen each other at church earlier that day and Mary Beth had shared her sorrow over the telegram regarding Sammy. Estella offered consolation to both Mary Beth and Sammy’s wife, Kay. Mary Beth’s mother had taken to her bed and refused to even come to church.

“Mama’s so afraid,” the young woman told Estella when they had a moment alone. “I don’t know how to help her through this because I’m just as afraid.”

“You must pray for her and love her all the more,” Estella told Mary Beth.

Now Estella felt the truth of her own words. She needed to pray even more for Andy—and love him.

Andy opened the door and noted the covered dish in her hands. “Come on in,” he said, reaching out to help Estella inside.

“I wasn’t sure if you would have anything hot for supper, so I wanted to bring you a big bowl of chicken and dumplings. Just don’t look too hard for the chicken. It’s mostly dumplings.”

Andy sounded weary as he answered, “If you made it, I know it’s good.” He took the dish and set it on the counter.

“It’s a bribe,” she said matter-of-factly. “I hoped I could talk you into changing your mind about church. It’s going to be a nice service, I think. A special service for Christmas Eve. There’s a memorial Christmas tree. The folks will hang gold stars on it for those who’ve been lost.”

“Then they definitely don’t want me there,” Andy said, crossing his arms. “I’ve been the cause of most of those stars.”

“No you haven’t. That’s been the job of the war.”

“Even so, they’ll remember me bringing the news.” He turned and walked away. “I’m not going.”

“Mary Beth was hoping you’d be there. She’s the reason I’m here now. She encouraged me to ask you again.”

Andy paused and looked back over his shoulder. “Why would she do that?”

Estella smiled and shrugged. “I guess because she wanted you to be there. She’s a sweet girl, Andy. I think she cares about you and doesn’t want you to be alone tonight.”

“Going to church isn’t going to help that,” he said, the bitterness heavy in his voice.

“Are you sure you won’t change your mind? The service won’t last that long, and afterward you could come to my house and have some cookies and coffee.”

“I appreciate you asking, Mrs. Nelson. Really I do. But I’m not going. There’s too much sadness already. Tonight those folks will remember their lost sons, and to see me still here and alive would break their hearts.”

“But other young men will be there too. There are other boys who couldn’t go to war. You aren’t alone, Andy. Truly you aren’t.”

He looked up at her as if to contradict, then softly replied, “I’m not going.”

Estella nodded. She knew it would be that way, but she’d hoped she might convince him otherwise. She’d even thought of playing on his sympathy, mentioning that it was a long cold walk to church and how she could use his company, but she refrained. “Well, I just wanted to try. I guess I’ll head on over. I promised I’d help get things ready if I had time.”

She moved toward the door, praying Andy would change his mind.
I just want him to see that he’s really loved, Lord. I just want him to know that you are there for him, that you’ve never left him.

“Thanks for the food,” Andy said, coming up behind her. “I wish you could stay and share it.”

Estella put on a smile and turned to him. “Not tonight, but how about tomorrow—for Christmas? Why don’t you come to my house and we’ll share the day and maybe even find a game to play. I used to play a fair game of dominoes.”

Andy looked at the floor. “It’d be nice not to be alone tomorrow.”

She hated the dejection in his voice. No doubt he was thinking about his parents. This would be his first Christmas without his mom. Her first without her mom too. It wouldn’t be easy for either one of them. Reining in her emotions, Estella replied, “Good. Then I’ll see you in the morning.”

Estella left feeling at least a small amount of satisfaction in having secured his agreement to come for Christmas. She didn’t want to admit it, but the thought of facing Christmas alone was more than she cared to deal with. There had always been someone before . . . her parents, Howard. Last year she had strung popcorn with her mother while they listened to Christmas carols on the radio. Despite the seemingly endless war there had been hope and joy and a certainty that God would soon bring the war to an end. They had prayed for just such a thing, and yet still the war raged.