Rumors and Promises (22 page)

Four young women, wearing white aprons, rocked the babies, cooing to them. One changed a diaper. The sight did Ian’s heart good. It reminded him of something. In fact, it was Sophie’s care for Caira, so loving and maternal. But he shook the thoughts from his mind. Sophie had said they were sisters and that settled it for him, Maggie, and he hoped the rest of the congregation, besides Gertrude and a few others.

After they were allowed a peek into the other rooms on that floor, the superintendent led them up a second flight of stairs. Pointing to one of the smallest rooms in the house, she said, “These are my quarters. And we have another small room, as well, in case someone needs to be quarantined.

“As fine a medical care as you could expect in this kind of institution. Dr. Conrad and his colleagues make sure of that.” Miss Heartwell’s encyclopedic description continued. “However, we don’t yet have the facilities to handle the birthing of the babies. They are welcomed at the Women’s Hospital, where I was once employed, thankfully. And then they return here. We try to keep them with us for at least six months after the babies are born, making sure they have a solid foundation.”

By the time they journeyed back down both flights of stairs, the residents were removing their plates from the table in the spacious dining room. The easy chatter stopped when the men came into their sight.

“And here, of course, is our dining room. The kitchen is in the basement.” Miss Heartwell halted and smiled.

Ian looked over the collection of young ladies. Some were tall, some short, some were pretty, others only possessed that glow of youth that lent to their attractiveness. Their current states were hidden well by clothing and sometimes the addition of a long apron.

He felt the warmth creep into his face and looked away, pretending to stare out a window. To stand there and study them would be no better than to treat them as caged animals in a zoo. He cleared his throat. “Thank you, Miss Heartwell, for the tour. I’m sure Elisha and I don’t care to disrupt the day’s activities any longer.”

“Absolutely not. We do appreciate your time, Miss Heartwell.” The head elder nodded in agreement.

“We so appreciate your interest. Anybody who wants to have a mission for girls such as these touches my heart. It has been my passion for quite a long time. We’re a long way from what Dr. Kate Waller Barrett, our national General Superintendent, envisions for the mission homes, but we are making progress.”

“I believe Dr. Conrad mentioned in his letter that you will soon be incorporated with their name?” Elisha asked.

“Yes, we will soon officially be called the Florence Crittenton Mission. And we hope to eliminate the burden of rent by purchasing a house for its use. Please keep us in your prayers!”

Dr. Conrad strode in from the main hallway. “Ah, there you are! Sorry I was detained for so long.”

“We were just finishing up, Doctor,” Miss Heartwell informed him.

“Is there anything else we can do for you?” Ian offered, wishing to be of some help to the worthy mission.

“Well, actually, you could. I’m afraid I received word that the speaker for this evening’s evangelistic service—we have them on
Monday and Thursday—took suddenly ill. I’m always willing to fill in, but I think our young ladies would enjoy someone with a fresh perspective.”

Ian had started to observe one of the young ladies. Her braid sat cockeyed on her shoulder, her clothing seemed a bit disheveled. She looked away, reminding him of a frightened animal. He supposed they didn’t have the means to allow the mentally unstable to stay in the facility, but how like Annie she seemed.

“Reverend?” Elisha again caught him unawares.

“Yes? I’m sorry.” Ian looked around at the other men and the matron.

“Miss Heartwell would like you to preach to the women this evening.” Elisha nodded.

“Of course, but we need to catch the train before dark, Elisha.”

“I won’t hear of it. You’ll come home for supper with me.” Dr. Conrad waited, smiling. “And, of course, stay the night.”

“Well, I suppose. Maggie and I did discuss the possibility that I wouldn’t make it back this evening, and I left her a note to remind her.” Ian shrugged. “I guess I should have listened and packed a bag.”

“I’m sure the missus will be able to come up with an extra pair of night clothes our son left behind,” Robert said.

“My wife suspected as much, too. I’m sure Lila will understand. The boys will see to what needs to be done on the farm. I think she’ll be fine.”

“Excellent! I’ll let my wife know we’ll be having guests.”

CHAPTER 13

E
arly that evening, Ian entered the large parlor. Dark paneling adorned the bottom half of the walls while the upper half had been whitewashed. A simple wooden cross was fastened to the wall opposite him. Just then, he also noticed a print depicting Christ and the woman at the well. He wondered how many times they’d heard a message about this fallen woman, later redeemed. Did they also hear about Gomer? Delilah? The woman caught in adultery?

He sat in a plain oak chair.
What do you want me to tell them, Lord? What is Your message for them?
He thought how scared and lost some of the girls appeared. Sheep. That’s what they made Ian think of. Lost, bleating sheep looking for help. And how many of them had been deceived by wolves in sheep’s clothing? He set his jaw.

“We require them to attend worship, but sadly, some of them don’t take the mercy of our Savior to heart.” Miss Heartwell interrupted his reverie. “They’ll be here soon.”

When the young ladies filed into the sitting room a few minutes later, most carried Bibles, but a few crossed their arms and looked down. Their chatter hushed as they entered. Did they wonder where God was … having to navigate an unexpected
route placed on the map of their lives? Ian admitted to himself that he’d spent more time analyzing the probable thoughts of ruined girls like these than he needed. He’d carried this burden since he’d turned from a chance to help Annie on that cold autumn evening. He shivered.

Ian hadn’t remembered meeting the woman sitting in the back row. She kept her head bent over some knitting, but when she looked up, the warmth of her brown eyes smiled a blessing on him. Gray streaked her chestnut hair and she wore a black dress, reminiscent of widow’s weeds.

He cleared his throat. “Let’s open our Bibles to Matthew, Chapter 18.” Eyes alight with expectancy met with his. Others, hardened and void of spiritual life, averted their gazes. Ian read the passage, speaking of God’s love for the one sheep who had wandered away. “There is one path to following our Lord and Shepherd, Jesus, but sometimes a lamb loses its way …”

Speaking to the young ladies in a gentle but firm voice, he explained how everyone goes astray with the choices they make at one time or another, but that the good news was about the Father’s compassion and mercy toward those who He was calling back. Ian ended with the comment, “Yes, the Good Shepherd will truly rejoice when He’s found the one sheep who went astray. He only wants you to hear His voice, to accept the forgiveness and peace He offers you.” He paused.

The older woman in the back dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief before she touched a simple locket hanging at her neck. Something about her heart-shaped face haunted him.

One of the girls shook her head while crossing her arms in front of her. “It’s easy for you to say! What have you ever done wrong? You’re a minister. You could never understand!”

“Muriel, calm down! Act like a lady.” Miss Heartwell stood. “I’m so sorry, Reverend.”

Ian studied the young woman with golden hair and cornflower blue eyes, raising her chin. She would have seemed lovely but for the hard glint beneath her lashes.

“No,” he said, “it’s a fair question. I am a sinner, too, and yet God has called me to the ministry. I have let Him down. Believe me. It’s only because of His grace and mercy that I stand here today. I am no better or different than you, Muriel. As St. Paul said, ‘I am the chiefest of sinners.’”
No better than a murderer
. He might as well have tossed Annie right into the river with his own two hands. His throat felt dry. How could he preach when he didn’t always act on what he believed?

You’re forgiven, Ian. Your sins are as far as the east is from the west.
Ian’s heart pounded as he perceived the Holy Spirit’s quiet voice within. Why could he only receive it as a dry fact for himself, instead of the Father’s love for his child? He closed his eyes and began praying aloud. When he opened them, he noticed Muriel’s expression had softened. Were her eyes bright with tears? Or hope?

After he’d finished, one of the girls waited by the door while he spoke with the doctor, Miss Heartwell, and Elisha.

“What is it, my dear? Shouldn’t you be getting ready for bed now?” Miss Heartwell sounded a bit anxious.

“May I please speak with Reverend McCormick for a moment?”

The matron looked at him for his answer.

“Of course.” Ian went forward toward the young lady. Something about her seemed different.

“I’m afraid when you saw me earlier, I was quite a mess. I’d been helping out in the kitchen.” She paused. “And I’m usually rather shy.”

Then Ian remembered the disheveled girl reminding him of Annie.

“But I had to tell you how much I appreciate your message and your truthfulness, Reverend. I’ve been praying for Muriel to come
to the Lord since she arrived a month ago. And praying she will stay here through her time of confinement.”

“What is your name?” He wanted to remember this girl with the bright eyes and dark hair, neatly combed. She wore a clean shirtwaist.

“Hope.”

How appropriate. He couldn’t help but smile at her.

“I heard you’re trying to start a home … for girls like me.” From behind the Bible Hope clutched in one arm, she brought out a white handkerchief with the corners tied together. He heard a couple of coins clanking inside. “It’s not much, but I’d like you to have it.”

Her grin widened as she untied the cloth and emptied the treasure into his hand.

“What about you and your baby?”

“The Lord will look out for us. Please take these.”

“Thank you, Hope. I will pray for Muriel, too.” A lump grew in his throat as he finally understood the parable of the widow’s mite. Feeling chastised about what he’d thought of Hope earlier, Ian was learning how often things weren’t what they seemed.

The mysterious older woman stood a few paces away, waiting patiently as Ian spoke with Hope. “Excuse me, Reverend,” she said in almost a whisper when they had finished.

“Is there something I can do for you?” Ian was surprised to see her moved by the message, when he had targeted the residents of the home.

She nodded. “I am Olivia Bidershem.”

“Bidershem?”

“Yes.” Her slight smile seemed pained, her sigh ragged. “Of the Bidershem Piano Company family. Being wealthy and well-known doesn’t keep us from having problems. Sometimes I think it creates more havoc. May I speak with you … about something important?”

“Of course. Let’s sit down.” He pulled a chair so that they sat perpendicular to one another. “What’s wrong, Mrs. Bidershem?”

“My child. I fear she is a lost sheep … lost to us anyway.” Weeping, she dabbed her eyes.

Ian waited, praying silently.

“It’s all our fault. A young man we trusted … he forced himself … on her.” Mrs. Bidershem reddened at the revelation. “She was with child.” She hesitated. “After the baby was born my daughter ran away.” She wept again. “D-do you think there’s hope for her, like the lost sheep? I come here to assist once a week, just hoping to help some poor young woman, someone like my little girl. And I knit these little things for their babies, since I can’t give anything to my granddaughter.” Mrs. Bidershem held tiny white booties out to him, almost as though she were looking for approval for her little offering.