Whispers from Yesterday (29 page)

“If You’re trying to tell me something, God,” she muttered beneath her breath, “why don’t You just come right out and say it, clear and plain?”

Her words were almost a dare to the Almighty.

“It was easier when I didn’t care.” She tossed aside the blankets, sat up, and reached for her robe. “It was easier when I didn’t have any questions or want any answers.” She rose from her cot and headed for the bathroom, pausing long enough in the hall to bump up the thermostat.

Three hundred thousand dollars would mean nice clothes, a nice home, a nice car. And a warm house without drafts! That kind of money would mean she could travel and go to parties. She could forget looking for answers. She could
live!

She turned the faucet in the shower. While waiting for hot water to reach the bathroom, she shucked off her robe and pajamas. A couple of minutes later, she stood beneath the spray, her head dropped back as tiny needles of water massaged her scalp, steam forming a thick cloud around her.

For a short while, her mind was blank, aware only of the pleasurable feel of the hot water upon her skin. Then, unexpectedly, she thought of Alan Ivie, her erstwhile fiancé. Wouldn’t
he
be surprised if she returned to their former haunts, showing up at the same parties and charity events he attended?

When she’d first arrived in Idaho, that had been her greatest desire. To acquire enough money so she could return to Los Angeles, so she could go back to her old way of life, so she could make Alan and her other so-called friends regret how they’d treated her. It was all she’d thought about, all she’d dreamed about.

But now?

She pressed her back against the tiled wall. “What do I want now? “

Another image came to her mind. Another man, but this one as different from Alan as day was from night.

“Oh, Dusty.” She closed her eyes. “What does any of this mean for us?”
Wait.

Wait for what? Wait.

I’m tired of waiting.

She bumped her head against the shower wall.
I’m tired of wanting.
She bumped it again.
I’m tired of wondering.
And yet again.

“I’m tired … I’m tired … I’m
tired!
“

She didn’t realize she was crying until she heard a soft rap on the door.

“Karen, are you okay?” Patty called from the hallway. She turned off the shower. “Yes.” She wiped away the tears. “I’m all right. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

The atmosphere at breakfast that Sunday morning was strained. Gazes met briefly, and then both parties looked away, as if eye contact were a dangerous thing.

As he ate, Dusty tried to come up with something to say that would break the tension. But every word, every thought, was second-guessed, then discarded as useless—or worse.

Patty was the first to crack. “What’s
wrong
with everybody?” she demanded in that tone common to teenage girls.

The three adults glanced her way.

“Well?
Why doesn’t somebody ask Karen what she’s gonna do? Is she staying or going?”

Sophia set down her fork. “Patty’s right. What
is
wrong with us?” She turned toward Karen. “Have you decided what you’re going to tell Mr. Gleason?”

“No.” Karen shook her head slowly.

Dusty felt a spark of hope. Did that mean she might stay? She pushed her plate back from the edge of the table and lifted her gaze to meet Sophia’s. “Tell me about my real grandmother.” Dusty thought he’d misunderstood her.

“Why did Mother never tell me about her?” she continued in a near whisper.

“Because she never knew,” Sophia answered.

“She never knew. Then tell me why she came to live with you. Why didn’t she stay with her parents in Denmark?”

Sophia answered with a question of her own. “How far have you read?”

“The day of her birth.”

“Then you have a ways to go yet.” Sophia paused before saying, “I’d rather you wait to ask me more until you’ve finished reading the last journal. Esther should tell you as much as she is able in her own words.”

Dusty was totally confused. It was like coming into a theater in the middle of a movie.

“My dear girl.” Sophia covered Karen’s hand with her own. “Esther loved her daughter very much. You know it’s true. When Maggie came to live with Bradley and me, we loved her as our own daughter. But I didn’t show it as I should have, and as time passed, Maggie came to resent me because of it.” She closed her eyes. A sigh escaped her. “God alone really knows why things happen the way they do. What I do know is, Esther had an unshakable faith in Jesus, and He was the guiding factor in all she did. She was a true woman of God.” She looked at Karen again. “She would have delighted in you, as I do. Knowing you, loving you, has been my greatest blessing this summer. And you
are
my granddaughter and forever will be.”

Without a word, Karen rose from her chair. She gave Sophia a wistful smile, then walked across the kitchen, grabbed her coat from the rack, and headed outside.

Dusty stared at the closed door. “Do you want me to go after her?”

“No. Leave her be. She has much to consider.”

Karen shrugged deeper inside her coat as she walked. She had no particular destination. She simply needed to move rather than to sit still.

It doesn’t matter if she isn’t really my grandmother. I don’t need her any longer. I don’t have to stay. I’ve got options. For the first time in a long time, I’ve got options. I can decide for myself what’s best for me. I don’t have to depend on anyone else.

She turned up her collar to protect her ears.

Why am I confused? The money’s mine. Of course I want it. Of course I should go back with Mac. It’s a no-brainer. Three hundred thousand dollars isn’t something I can walk away from.

She tried to envision herself beside some crystal blue swimming pool, basking in the California sun and sipping a piña colada. Strangely, it was no longer a tempting daydream.

The memory of yesterday returned to her. Riding beside Dusty, watching an eagle as it soared above the high canyon walls, rounding up a small herd of stray cattle for the Basterras, sitting at a neighbor’s kitchen table and talking, eating, laughing. All of it seemed so much more appealing to her.

She stopped, drew in a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

She knew now what she was going to do.

“I’m not going back with you, Mac,” Karen told her friend as they stood together on the front porch. “But, Karen—”

“No. I’ve made up my mind.” She touched his arm. “My presence isn’t required, and we both know it. You thought you were doing me a favor by saying I had to go back. I understand that. But whatever forms and documents I need to sign can be signed in Idaho as well as in California. The postman stops at our mailbox every day of the week, and Federal Express and UPS deliver even way out here.”

“I don’t think you—”

“Mac, you are the one true friend I had when my life fell apart. Don’t think I don’t know it. I understand what you see when you look around this place.” She let her gaze roam over the yard and outbuildings. Then she looked beyond the rolling, sage-covered desert to the rugged mountain peaks. “I felt the same when I first got here. But there’s so much more. So much more. Beautiful, really, if you look deep enough.”

“Well, I’ll be,” he whispered.

She smiled. “Don’t think it didn’t surprise me, too.” She looked at him. “It still does. A little.” “I like your grandmother.” “She’s wonderful, isn’t she?” Mac raised an eyebrow. “And Mr. Stoddard?” “He’s wonderful too.”

“Ahh.”

“So you’ll send me whatever papers I need to sign?” “I will.” He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Stay happy, Karen.” His smile was warm. “I’m betting you will.”

Friday, June 5, 1942

Dear Diary,

Today is our fifth wedding anniversary. Where is the young girl who married Mikkel Christiansen? Who was she? I see no sign of her. What innocence she possessed. How sheltered her life. There are times when I miss her.

Mikkel refuses to carry a weapon as he performs his work for the resistance. He says he could never take the life of another human being. And, he asks, for what other reason would he carry a weapon than to harm or to kill? I do not know if he is right. If a German soldier were to enter our home and threaten Margaret Rose, would I not do anything to save her? Even fire a gun?

Ah, my little Rose. How beautiful she is. She sat up, unassisted, today. I think her hair, still as fair as her father’s, will be curly, lucky girl. She is such a good baby, happy and smiling, her pale blue eyes sparkling with merriment. She has no understanding of the world outside the walls of this house,

God in heaven, protect us. Save my child from the enemy without.

Esther

Sunday, July 19, 1942

Dear Diary,

It is nearly midnight, and I have slipped from our bedroom while Mikkel sleeps, to write, my mind too active to find rest.

When we retired for the night, Mikkel drew me to him, his need strong. As we lay nestled in each other’s arms, he reminded me it was six years ago today that we met one another. It was his first Sunday to preach at our little church in Oregon, and I was a girl of only seventeen. He told me he began to fall in love with me on that morning. Then he said his love has multiplied a hundredfold in the years since. He called me beautiful in face and in spirit and quoted Proverbs 31 to me, saying the verses described me. He thanked me for little Sophie and for our Rose, for being his wife and their mother. He thanked me for seeking the Lord’s will and setting an example for him and for our children. He called me courageous.

I had the horrible feeling he was telling me good-bye. He never said the word. It was only a feeling, but one I cannot shake.

This morning, in his sermon, Mikkel said we cannot halt for long between two opinions, that we must stop hesitating and step out for the Lord. He said as Christians we must choose to turn over our free will to the future God has in mind for us. If we remain stubborn, if we are afraid to step out for Him, then He will use someone else. But God’s work will be done, even if we miss the blessing of being used by Him because of our own selfishness.

Was Mikkel speaking to us, the members of the congregation, or to himself?

Father God, keep me from halting between two opinions. Help me to step out for you. Keep me from being double-minded. Let me ask in faith, nothing wavering. For she that wavereth is like a wave of the sea driven with the wind and tossed. For let not that woman think she shall receive anything of the Lord. A double-minded woman is unstable in all her ways.

And protect Mikkel, Lord God. Keep him in the safety of Your arms. Amen.

TWENTY-EIGHT

Dusty waited a full month to say what he wanted to say to Karen. Perhaps it was because he kept expecting her to change her mind, to announce she was going back to Los Angeles after all. But she didn’t. She remained at the Golden T, caring for her grandmother, befriending Patty in countless ways, working beside Dusty wherever she was needed.