Donovan's Daughter (The Californians, Book 4) (25 page)

"I think maybe the rest of these questions can wait
until tomorrow at Al's party."

No one argued, since the next day was Sunday and all
had yet to bathe their families. After everyone cleared
out, Marcail thought how nice it would be to wash her
hair, but she decided she was just too tired to make the
effort.

"Want me to fix a bath for you?" Alex offered sweetly
after they'd bid Samuel and Helen good night.

"It sounds wonderful, but I don't think I have the
energy."

Alex nodded with understanding and silent agreement, thinking she could always bathe in the morning.
He didn't mention that she could sleep late if she needed
to, and probably would if he woke her in the night like he
planned to do. It would be nice to see Pastor Cook and introduce her to his church family, but Marcail's health
was more important.

As he waited in the hall, he realized his wife had
admitted to him that she was tired. For her to admit even
that spoke of how far they'd come in a few weeks. The
fear was diminishing, and as Alex waited for his wife to
ready for bed, he praised God for that.

""It's dark outside, Alex! What time is it?" Marcail
asked with sleepy dismay when her eyes finally adjusted
to the light of the lantern.

'A little after midnight, I think."

"Why did you wake me?"

"Because I don't take chances with head injuries," he
said as he pulled her into a sitting position on the side of
the bed. It had been a chore to wake her from her nap the
day before, but he found it nearly impossible in the
middle of the night. Then he remembered the cool washcloth he'd used on her face earlier. It did the trick.

"I still don't understand why you woke me," Marcail
scowled, swaying just a bit on the edge of the bed.

Alex put a hand out to steady her and explained,
"People who get hit in the head as hard as you did have a
tendency to go to sleep and not wake up. And since I'd
like to do everything I can to have you around as long as
the Lord wills, I woke you."

Marcail's brow lowered, and her tone was grumpy, "If
I'd known what kind of a noisy roommate you were
going to be, I'd have sent you across the hall on the first
night!"

Alex smiled with amusement, but also relief. If she
was feisty, she was going to be all right.

"I suppose," Marcail went on, her voice just as cross,
"that you want to know my mother's maiden name or
something equally as silly to see if I really know who I
am. Well, I know exactly who I am! I'm a woman who's
considering leaving her husband if he doesn't let her go
back to sleep!"

Alex laughed outright at this, but he was also wise
enough to listen to her. Within minutes she was tucked
securely back beneath the covers and on her way to
sleep.

Alex took a little longer to find his own rest. His mind
dwelt on this unusual marriage in which he found himself. How did a man who'd been married for several
years, widowed, and then married again, keep from
touching his new wife? How did a man share a bed with
his wife and manage to keep his distance, even though
he found her desirable?

It had to be the Lord, Alex concluded. He knew himself to be a man like any other, with God-given desires.
But God had also given him a wife who needed special
nurturing at this time, and for that God's sustaining
strength was proving to be more than sufficient.

As though the Lord spoke to him, Alex suddenly
remembered Joseph from the New Testament, a man
who'd married the woman he loved when she was carrying the Son of God. The angel had not told Joseph he
could not touch Mary, but he chose to keep her a virgin
until after the baby was born.

Alex was not trying to be blasphemous by comparing
himself and Marcail to Joseph and Mary, but thinking of
Joseph was an encouragement to him. Of course Joseph
had known that the pregnancy would come to an end, whereas Alex had no such guarantee. Still, Joseph had
been God's man for the job, and God had blessed him.

Alex rolled onto his side to see the woman lying next
to him. The moonlight came through the window and
illumined just a part of her face, but Alex didn't need the
light to know how lovely she was.

"I love you, Marcail," he whispered, knowing she
would not hear. "And I pray that someday you'll love me
too." Alex slept then, but not before he asked God to let
that day be soon.

When Alex woke again it was light outside. He'd
intended to wake Marcail one more time before morning, but his body must have had other ideas.

Alex padded downstairs, barefoot and without a shirt,
to find his father having breakfast in the kitchen. He
knew his mother would still be sleeping. His father was
ready for church, but had time before he needed to leave.
Alex joined him.

"Good morning," Samuel greeted his youngest son.

"Morning," Alex returned as he poured himself a cup
of coffee.

"Did I hear you up last night?"

"That you did. Sorry we disturbed you."

"No problem. I take it you woke Marcail to see if she
was all right?"

"Right. She got hit pretty hard, and I wanted to be
sure."

"How is she?"

"If feisty is any indication, she's in perfect health."

Samuel looked confused. "Marcail doesn't strike me
as the feisty type."

"You've never woken her from a sound sleep. She all but told me if I didn't leave her alone, I could sleep across
the hall."

Samuel laughed. "With as hard as you tell me she
sleeps, I'm surprised you could rouse her."

"It wasn't easy, but at least it gave me peace of mind. I
was going to wake her again before morning, but I slept
through."

"I'm sure she's all right. She was pretty chipper last
night until the end of the game, and then through the
family's interrogation."

Alex smiled. "Have you noticed that when she's comfortable with you, she shows every emotion on her face?"

"Your mother and I find her as guileless as a child,"
Samuel commented.

"That she is."

"You know, Al," Samuel went on, "everytime we've
talked this weekend, it's been about Marcail. Your mother
and I both wonder how you are doing."

"I'm doing just fine," Alex assured his father. "Physically I'm in good shape, spiritually I'm learning to trust
God in a brand new way, and emotionally, well, let's just
say I'm getting there."

Samuel, who'd risen to retrieve the coffeepot, patted
his son on the shoulder and thanked him for his assurance. "If you don't get a chance to talk with your mother
alone before you go tomorrow, I'll tell her you're doing
well. It will put her mind at ease."

"Have the two of you really been worried?"

Samuel smiled and then chuckled. "Not worried exactly, but try to realize, Al, that we've never seen you this
way before. You and Linette were like brother and sister,
and you didn't really have a courtship, just a wedding.
But now, well now you have this look of delight on your
face most of the time. If Marcail is in the room, you can't
keep your eyes off her."

Samuel laughed at the dumbfounded look on his son's
face. "I've got to get to church early today. If Marcail
sleeps late enough, the two of you can breakfast with
Mother."

Alex silently watched his dad leave. He realized that if
his family could see his love for Marcail, then quite
possibly it would be just a matter of time before Marcail
could see it herself.

""I can see you're feeling much better," Helen told her
daughter-in-law as they breakfasted in her room.

"Yes," Marcail said with relief. "I feel like I'm back to
my old self." It was 10:30, and Marcail had just had her
bath. She was now having breakfast with Alex and his
mother.

"Well, that's wonderful. I'm sorry you'll miss church,
but your health is more important."

"If your pastor is anything like ours, I haven't missed a
thing," Marcail said as she set her coffee cup down.
Instantly she regretted her words. "I'm sorry," Marcail
apologized. "That was completely uncalled for."

"That's all right, dear," Helen assured her. 'Alex has
talked with us about your church situation."

Wishing that Alex had talked with her, Marcail remained silent. The state of their church concerned her
deeply, but she hadn't as yet been comfortable enough
with anyone to bring up the matter.

"I take it you're accustomed to solid Bible teaching,"
Helen mused, beginning the conversation again.

"I guess I've been spoiled no matter where I've lived.
In Santa Rosa, Pastor Keller never minced words over the
fact that Jesus Christ is the Son of God and the Bible is the Word of God. Then in Visalia, my father was my pastor.
He never leaves doubt in anyone's mind that Jesus alone
can save us from our sins and give us a fulfilled life on
this earth.

"Pastor Zimler doesn't even mention any of those
truths. I fear for him, since the Bible speaks about how
seriously God takes positions of leadership. He leads an
entire church of people down a rosy path of lies week in
and week out. He stands in the pulpit and tells us that if
we try hard and do good, God will remember our good
works when we die.

"Well, heaven is God's home," Marcail said, really in
her element now. She sounded just like a teacher. 'And
He alone dictates how you come to that home-through
His Son. Woe be to the man who preaches otherwise."

Alex and Helen couldn't have agreed with her more.
They continued to discuss the Willits church for some
time, until Alex made a comment that nearly brought
Marcail out of her chair.

Alex stated sadly, "That's the way it is when the pastor
of the only church in town sits in the pocket of the richest
woman in residence."

"What did you say?" Marcail asked in shock.

Alex repeated himself, and Marcail gawked at him. Of
course! It was all so clear now. The pastor was just
preaching what he was told to preach!

'Alex," Marcail's voice was pained, "such a thing
never occurred to me."

Alex's look was compassionate. "It's not very pretty, is
it? But Marcail, we're going to keep praying, praying that
more than three or four men will come forward and say
they've had enough. I'd rather we go without a preacher
than go on as we are now."

'Alex," Marcail suddenly wondered aloud, "how did the different families in town come to Christ in the first
place?"

"Pastor Zimler has only been there for about three
years," Alex explained. "Dick Peik, the man in the pulpit
before him, was a man of God. Both on Sunday and
Wednesday nights, he taught us how to know God and
glorify Him in our lives. He was only in Willits for 18
months, but his effect can still be felt."

"That encourages me, Alex," Marcail said, soft determination in her voice. "God has not turned His back on
Willits. Since I believe He's put me there and given me a
love for the people, I also believe He will use me to
further the news that His Son is the Light in this world."