Read Not My Will and The Light in My Window Online
Authors: Francena H. Arnold
Not My Will and The Light in My Window (32 page)
So the whole party adjourned to the front porch and sat there reveling in the pleasure of being home again.
Mother looked strong and well. Dick, Connie, and Mary Lou were glowing with suntan, and even Bob and Marilyn looked relaxed and rested by the little excursion they had taken. Baby Patty trotted about, glad to be back in this familiar place, stealing sips of grape juice from first one and then another on the porch.
“Well, I guess we’d better be heading for home,” said Bob, setting down his glass and standing up to stretch
his legs. “Tell Eleanor I put all her things in her room. I hope I brought the right stuff. I’ll be over tomorrow to talk to her about the cottage.”
He swung Patty up to a perch on his shoulder, and they were just starting for the car when Mary Lou called out, “There’s the bus!”
Seven pairs of eyes alighted on the familiar yellow-and-brown vehicle that had just pulled up at the dusty roadside. They saw Eleanor step down, then looked on in amazement as she came up the walk with a little boy in her arms.
“Oh, it is a little boarder!” exclaimed Mary Lou in glee. “It is!”
But no one paid any attention. All stood speechless before the radiance on Eleanor’s face as she mounted the steps.
Then she spoke with a catch in her voice. “Do you know our new boarder?”
“It must be the King baby!” exclaimed Connie. “The Little Chap!”
“Yes,” replied Eleanor, her voice shaking. “The King’s
adopted
son. Mother, oh, Mother, why didn’t I guess it before? Look at him, Mother! Don’t you know who he really is?”
The mother gazed with paling cheeks at the smiling baby who had nestled his head against Eleanor’s shoulder as if he couldn’t get close enough to her. Then she looked at Eleanor’s face. Her eyes went back to the baby’s face, and as he met her gaze he gave her a smile, a three-cornered crooked smile that took her back a quarter of a century.
With a sob she held out her arms. But the Little
Chap only clung the closer to Eleanor. So Mother Stewart clasped them both close, saying as she did so, with tears running down her cheeks, “I
do
know. He’s
our
baby—our own little Chad! Oh, Father in Heaven, we thank Thee!”
* * *
Later, when the little boy had been persuaded to leave Eleanor’s shoulder for his grandmother’s eager arms, Eleanor read Lorraine’s letter to the rejoicing family. At times during the reading her voice broke as she remembered how dear Lorraine had been to her. Mother Stewart openly wiped her eyes once or twice while the others listened in sympathetic silence.
Dear Jochebed:
The princess is too tired to care for your little Moses, even though she loves him. And the heavenly Father knows that only one person can care for him properly—his own mother—yourself. Oh, Eleanor, I am so shaken by my realization of how much God loves us, even in our weakness and sin, that I can hardly write.
This afternoon, when you told me your story and it dawned upon me that my little boy—the one I have called my own ever since they brought him to me after my own tiny son died—was, in reality, your son, I wanted to shout aloud for joy. For I have lain awake many hours during these last weeks wondering what will happen to him when I am gone. It has become plain to me that I shall soon be leaving you,
and I have been deeply troubled for my little nameless son. You must have observed that Phil has never cared for him at all. So I could not burden him with an unwanted child. Then, in my deepest distress, God sent you, the baby’s own mother. It can be nothing but God’s intervention in our lives that shaped events in this way.
Just think, Eleanor, when my father went to that sanitarium where you were, both Phil and I were in a hospital—he seriously injured by the automobile accident, and I mourning for the baby that didn’t live. Poor Father! He was frantic and did the only thing he could think of. Perhaps it did save my life, for I loved the Little Chap from the start.
But it was three months before we dared tell Phil that our little son—the Phil, Jr., we had longed for—had not lived and that a strange child was taking his place. When we did tell him, he had a relapse and almost died. Then, even after he got well, he never accepted the child he considered an interloper. I love Phil, but I’ve loved the little one, too, and at times my heart has been torn in two.
But now I am more happy than I have been in two years. I really don’t mind going, but my heart aches for Phil. I know, Eleanor, that you and he seem to antagonize each other, but that is because you don’t know him as well as I do. He has always been my “shining knight,” and I love his proud self-confidence. It will be a sad time for him when I go, but God can comfort him.
My father will help you get the adoption papers fixed up for the baby. Edith and her husband signed
the others, as we were both so very sick. Phil has never bothered to change them.
I have written a long letter to my father, explaining everything, and he will take care of the legal matters. Oh, Eleanor, I am so happy to be able to give your baby back to you.
I am asking Father and Edith not to tell Phil where the baby has been sent. That will be the only fair way for you. And Phil doesn’t care. If he ever should get lonely for the little son he would not accept, I hope you can forgive him and be kind to him.
I am very tired, for I have written a long letter to Phil, also, telling him many things I cannot say when I talk to him. May God bless and keep all my dear ones until we meet again by His throne.
Lorraine
As Eleanor finished reading, silence reigned. Everyone was marveling at God’s goodness. Little Chad lay sleeping in his grandmother’s arms, and she looked as though earth could hold no greater joy for her.
At last Eleanor broke the tension with a laugh. “This is the most humbling moment of my life!” she exclaimed. “I have just realized that this little person’s willfulness, which I have sought for months to eradicate, is an inheritance not from the Rev. Dr. Philip King but from Eleanor Stewart!”
Mother swayed gently in the swing. “Are you going to tell Philip King where the baby is—and who he is?”
“I will, if he ever wants to know. I would never inflict on anyone else the anguish I have endured. But
I’ll not volunteer the information. He can let me know through Mrs. Carder if he ever wants to see the Little Chap, and in that case he can visit him as much as he wishes. I owe the Kings a great debt for caring for my baby when I wouldn’t.”
“Poor Dr. King. I am sorry for him,” said Dick from his perch on the porch rail beside Connie. “He looked haggard during commencement week.”
“With good reason,” returned Eleanor. “Lorraine’s death came just before the close of school, and, with Dr. Hale ill, the burden of everything was on Phil’s shoulders.”
“How is Dr. Hale?” asked Mother solicitously. The president of Bethel ranked high on her prayer list.
“Not so well, Mother,” replied Eleanor. “I doubt if he will be able to start school next year.”
“I heard a rumor before I left,” added Dick, “that the board was thinking of appointing an assistant to take over the work, a sort of president pro tem. I think that no one actually expects Dr. Hale ever to carry the whole burden again, but they don’t want him to resign. The new assistant would be in training, as it were, for the day when Dr. Hale will be gone.”
“Who are they considering?” asked Mother. “It will take a big man to fill that spiritual giant’s shoes.”
“Dr. Cortland could do it,” remarked Eleanor. “I think he could accomplish a great deal in such a position. He never appears to be doing much, but somehow things happen when he is about. I think it is because he never does anything in his own strength, but relies wholly on the Lord.”
“Well, campus opinion is divided between him and Dr. King for the position,” said Dick.
“Oh, Dr. King is too young!” cried Eleanor in dismay. “He is clever and capable, but it would be tragic to make him president of Bethel College.”
“Well, it hasn’t been done yet,” consoled Dick. “I was just peddling campus gossip. But he does have a reputation for accomplishing things, and for getting other folks to work too. And Dr. Cortland is pretty slow compared to P. K., the whirlwind accomplisher!”
“I don’t care if he
is
slow,” Eleanor retorted. “He is a fine scholar and a dear old saint. I think he could be just as clever an administrator as Philip King if he desired.”
“Better tell that to the trustees,” said Dick. “For myself I’d vote for the dear old doctor, but I’m sure that Philip King will make a gilt-edged impression on the board.”
“This is surely a matter to be prayed about,” stated Mother, shifting the weight of the child in her arms. The action disturbed him, and the blue eyes opened, then gazed in sleepy bewilderment at the strange faces. The tiny chin began to quiver, then two pleading arms were lifted to Eleanor.
“Miss Honor, take!” he demanded, and with a surge of joy Eleanor caught her little son into her arms and smoothed his hair.
“Miss Honor it shall be today,” she said. “But tomorrow I’m going to add a new word to your vocabulary. I can hardly wait to hear you say Mother.”
F
or Eleanor that summer flew by on joyous wings. She had her little Chad, and was released from the ache and remorse that had never left her since they had been separated. She watched him grow strong and tall; she taught him and began to train the strong will into loving obedience. She learned to see the world anew through baby eyes just growing into observant childhood. Every day was a glad adventure.
Each morning Eleanor awakened with a prayer of gratitude in her heart when she realized that in the crib by her side lay the precious child who was left to her as a reminder of her life with Chad. Her whole being throbbed with the joy of God’s great mercy and His love in returning her lost child. At work or at play, her heart was lifted up in thanksgiving. Life might bring more of trouble or of pain—it surely would—but the calm
peace of her soul could not be disturbed. She knew her Guide and would rest confidently in His leadership.
Little Chad’s lips soon learned to say “Mother,” although occasionally he would forget and say “Miss Honor.” After a few puzzled inquiries for “Mum-mum,” he seemed to forget that lovely girl who had been mother to him. Several times he asked hopefully, “Daddy tum?” But as the days passed, the fascinations of the farm and the love and caresses of his new family crowded old memories from his baby mind. He was the darling of the family, bringing memories as he did of another Chad who was now waiting in heaven.
And he grew to love them all. He trotted after “Mammaw” as she inspected her flowers, he romped with Connie and Mary Lou, and he and baby Patty toddled about the lawn hand in hand, little Chad trying to help the “baby,” as he called her. He rode Bob’s shoulder to the chores. “I’ve long needed another man around here,” Bob confided to him. “You and I will stick together for our own protection now.”
In July Eleanor took little Chad and went for two happy weeks at the lake with the Fleets. In that lovely place where every corner of the house and even the woods and hills outside held memories of the other Chad, she rested as she had not been able to do before. And when she returned to the farm, Mother Stewart was happy to see the change in her. For the first time since they had known her, they began to feel that this was the laughing girl Chad had loved.
One day a letter came to Eleanor from Philip King, stating that Lorraine had asked him to give Eleanor the little pearl ring she had worn. He was having the set
tightened and would send it later. After thanking Eleanor for her care of Lorraine during those last weeks, he scarcely mentioned himself except to say that he was well and learning to go on living. “One does somehow.” Of the Little Chap he said nothing, and Eleanor tightened her lips at the neglect.
A letter from Billy told of days spent at the institute, of grand preparations for the trip to the cottage in August.
Dad and Mother are having as much fun as I am. Their problem child is a problem no longer. They are so interested in the work that if I wanted a yacht, all I’d need to do would be to tell Dad I needed it at the institute. Angela comes down occasionally but stays only long enough to get the files in a mess. She wouldn’t come at all except for the fact that she wants P. K. to remember that she is still alive.
P. K. practically lives here. He is very sad and quiet and works hard with the boys. And his sermons on Sundays are great! Isn’t it strange how decent and likeable he is here and how absolutely unbearable he is when he gets to strutting about the halls of learning?
Dick was back in the city working at an express depot during the day, and his evenings—well, Mary Lou insisted they were all spent in writing long letters to Connie. That young lady was preparing to start to Bethel College in September, and she and Mother were deep in wardrobe plans. Marilyn came often along the orchard path to help with the canning, while Patty and Chad played together under Mary Lou’s watchful eye.
The first week in September Dick came up to the farm for a few days’ vacation. The first evening of his visit he coaxed Connie out for a walk, and when they returned Connie held out her left hand to her mother in joyous delight. There sparkled a shining new diamond ring.
