Whispers from Yesterday (25 page)

Mikkel reminded me again of Romans 8:28. But how, I asked him, could any of this work together for good? And he answered me, “I do not know the mind of God, but I do know those who trust in Jesus Christ were predestined to be conformed to His image. Perhaps that is why we are here.”

Father God, I am not a brilliant woman. I was only an average student in school. I know so little of the world. Even after nearly three years in Denmark, I struggle with the language and often feel like an outsider. I read my Bible daily, and I try hard to understand what You are telling me. But some things are beyond me. I am just a simple Oregon farm girl. For what purpose did you place me here?

Esther

TWENTY-THREE

Karen kept her promise to Dusty. She thought about what he’d told her. She considered his words often, pondering them, trying to understand.

She also thought about what he
hadn’t
said. If things were different, she might have asked him if he wished to say more. But things weren’t different.

Sophia spent a week in the hospital. Dusty, Karen, and Patty visited her every day. The daily trip to and from town was tiring for them all, but no one complained.

Dusty made the difficult but necessary decision to forego his studies that semester. As he explained to Karen, Sophia would need lots of care when she was released from the hospital, more than one person could handle. And there were bound to be expenses not covered by insurance, which meant they would need every penny they could scrape together. There wouldn’t be any left over for textbooks or gasoline for transportation. After all, it was a long drive from the ranch to the university.

On the day Sophia was to be discharged, Karen dropped Dusty at the hospital in the morning, then drove Patty to her monthly prenatal exam. They were lucky to find empty chairs in the obstetrician’s waiting room. It was obvious Dr. Waters was a popular physician. Either that or there was a major baby boom in progress.

The moment she met Dr. Clark Waters, she knew it was the former reason. He could have been the role model for TV’s
Marcus Welby, M.D.
The doctor had a round face, creased by time and frequent smiles. He appeared to be about sixty years old, although his build was that of a much younger man. He had a full head of salt-and-pepper hair. His hazel eyes revealed a gentle concern for his patients. Even his voice was perfect, soft and reassuring.

How could one worry with Dr. Waters in charge?

If I were having a baby, I’d want him taking care of me.

On the heels of that thought came another.

If I were having Dusty’s baby, I’d want Dr. Waters taking care of us.

Something strange and warm curled inside her belly as she imagined herself sitting in the rocking chair on the front porch at the ranch while holding a baby on her lap.

Never in her life had Karen felt the slightest twinge of maternal instincts. When other women had spoken of their ticking biological clocks, she’d felt confused. It had seemed a great nonsense to her. But in that moment, she knew precisely what all the fuss was about.

“May I have a word in private with you, Miss Butler?”

Heat rose in her cheeks. She hoped the doctor hadn’t read her mind. “Of course.” She reached for her purse on the floor next to her chair.

Dr. Waters led the way out of the examination room, and Karen followed.

“Is there a problem?” she asked as the door closed behind her.

“Beyond Patty’s youthfulness, no.” He stopped and turned toward her, speaking in that comforting, perfectly modulated voice of his. “I anticipate no physical problems with this pregnancy. But given her family situation and her age, I’d like her to receive some specialized counseling.”

“Mr. Stoddard
is
a counselor. And a good one.”

The doctor shook his head. “I know Dusty from church, and I agree. He does fine work. But this is a little different. I don’t mean to sound sexist, but I believe she needs a woman counselor, one trained in counseling girls in Patty’s situation. Patty has a lot to face in the coming months.”

Karen nodded, conceding the point. “We want to do whatever’s necessary for her well-being.”
But will we have the money to pay for it?

“I took the liberty of discussing Patty with Victoria Dickson.” Dr. Waters drew a card from the pocket of his white coat. “Dusty knows Victoria. She used to attend our church before moving to Boise to open a counseling center there.”

“Boise,” she whispered beneath her breath, thinking of money again, this time in relation to the cost of gas.

Couldn’t You give us a break? Did it have to be so far away?

“You look good,” Dusty said with a grin, then leaned over to kiss Sophia’s forehead.

“Ha!” The elderly woman swatted his arm. “Are you going to start lying to me just because I’ve been under the weather? I look dreadful, like anyone my age after a week in the hospital. Thank God I’m going home.”

“Thank God, indeed.”

“What a bother this has been for you.”

“You’re never a bother, Sophia.”

She reached up to touch his cheek. He covered her hand with his and held it there, holding it close, by his gesture telling her how much she was loved.

“So when do they let me out?” she asked with false brightness, at the same time using a tissue to wipe away a few tears.

“There’s some paperwork to take care of first. They’re doing that now. Should be done by the time Karen and Patty are back from the obstetrician’s.”

Sophia’s brows drew together in a frown. “How is Karen? Really.”

“Seeking and resisting at the same time.” He sat on the foot of the bed.

“That’s how it was for me.” She sighed. “I wonder why acceptance comes easily to some, but others of us fight the whole way to the foot of the cross?”

“I don’t know.”

“Dusty?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Hmm.”

“When we get home, there are some things we must discuss. About my will and the provisions I’ve made.”

“Hey, you’re not dying anytime soon. There’s no hurry to—”

“I’m nearly eighty-two. Whether I live another week or another decade, my time on earth is short. We must have this discussion, you and Karen and I.”

He nodded his acquiescence, knowing there was no point in arguing with her. When Sophia made up her mind, she could be a most intractable woman.

While Dusty and Karen helped Sophia settle into her room, Patty told her all that had happened during the past week, ending with, “Dr. Waters let Karen listen to the baby’s heartbeat this morning.”

Dusty stopped what he was doing and looked at Karen. “You got to listen?”

“Yes.” She remembered the awesome sound coming through the stethoscope.

“Dr. Waters says,” Patty continued, “that if the baby comes at the end of December when it’s due, I could be back at my own school by mid-January.” She hesitated, then added, “Unless my dad won’t let me go home again.”

Karen sent Patty an empathetic glance. She knew how it felt to be unwanted. She also knew it was much too easy, even for a girl as young as Patty, to hide her true feelings. Karen had done it for years. To be honest, she was still doing it.

She remembered the card in her coat pocket and knew she must give it to Dusty as soon as they had a moment alone. She didn’t want Patty becoming an expert at running away from herself, at hiding what was in her heart so deep no one could reach her.

“Everybody out,” Dusty said, breaking into Karen’s thoughts. “Sophia needs rest.”

“All I do is rest,” the older woman groused, but it was halfhearted at best. She’d been worn out by the trip home, and it showed.

Karen leaned over the bed and kissed her grandmother on the forehead. “You take a nap. When you wake up, I’ll fix you something to eat.”

“Thank you, dear.”

Karen led the way out of the bedroom, followed by Patty. Dusty left the door ajar, in case Sophia needed to call for something.

“Do you care if I listen to some CDs over in the bunkhouse?” Patty asked Dusty when they reached the kitchen.

“No. Go ahead.”

A few minutes later, the girl was out the door, her CD player in one hand, a case of CDs in the other.

“She should have a room of her own,” Karen said as soon as Patty was out of hearing. “I’ll sleep on the cot in Grandmother’s room, and Patty can have mine. She needs her own space more than I do.”

She looked toward Dusty and found him staring at her, his expression inscrutable.

After a breathless moment, she was compelled to ask, “What are you looking at?”

“At someone special,” he answered. “At someone very, very special.”

Thursday, July 4, 1940

Dear Diary,

In America today, they are celebrating a people’s right to rule. How far away and strange that seems with our streets occupied by the Germans.

The youth associations in Denmark have combined to form Dansk Ungdomssamvirke, which means Danish Youth Cooperation. Mikkel has participated somewhat in their formation. He hopes they will serve to strengthen national morale. But there is more he is not telling me. I can see it in his eyes—they give away the truth.

I have always thought Mikkel’s eyes a window into his soul, and after three years of marriage, I have learned to read him well. He has seen more than he tells me when he goes about his church work. Death perhaps. Suffering most definitely. But I try not to ask, for it is clear he does not wish me to know.

I fear Mikkel does too much, takes too many risks. I have cautioned him. He is an American. He should try to be inconspicuous. But he does not listen. Mikkel would never ignore anyone who is in need.

Still, he must agree with me to a small degree, for he has forbidden me to speak English outside of the house. Even here he wishes I would speak Danish. But it is hard for me. The words remain foreign on my tongue, and I must stop and translate things in my head first.

I wish I were smarter. Not just with languages but with many other things besides.

Esther

Tuesday, September 17, 1940

Dear Diary,

Today, Grandfather Fritz went home to be with the Lord. Mikkel and I were with him at the end.

Before he breathed his last, he looked at Mikkel and said, “I am proud of you. Be strong. Listen to God. He will lead you. Always do what is right.”

And Mikkel promised he would.

Then Grandfather looked at me. His hand, quivering and frail, skin like parchment, tightened around mine. “Remember this,” he said. “Esther never faltered. Esther fulfilled her destiny, serving where she was planted. Remember it always, Esther. Remember.”

I wanted to ask what he meant, but he closed his eyes and was gone. He went so peacefully. And willingly.

But I do not know what he meant. I do not feel I have fulfilled my destiny. I do not feel I have served anyone. What special thing did Grandfather think I have done that caused him to say this?

Or maybe he did not know what he was saying. Perhaps it was only the talk of an old and wandering mind.

Esther

TWENTY-FOUR

Dusty enjoyed watching Karen come into her own. It was difficult to remember the spoiled, emotionally withdrawn poor-little-rich-girl who’d arrived at the beginning of summer. That woman had little in common with the Karen he saw before him now.

He suspected she was unaware of her own transformation. Tenderly caring for Sophia and willingly giving up her bedroom to Patty were only two of the more obvious ways in which she’d changed. There were countless little things that added up to the whole.

I love her more every day, Lord,
he thought as he saddled his horse one morning, five days after Sophia’s return home.
When do I get to tell her? Or will I
never
get to?

He feared the latter might be God’s answer. Especially if she didn’t come to Christ.