The Calling of Emily Evans (28 page)
One early spring day when the eaves were dripping and water was running in muddy streams down the sides of the town’s narrow streets, Emily decided to don her rubber overshoes and take a walk in the woods.
It was a long time since she had visited the creek she loved, and she was sure it was pulsating with new life now that the sun had filled it with melted snow.
Dressed warmly in an old coat, Emily found the creek to be just as she had expected. Here and there, through the winter ice and snow, the stream had managed to flow southward, clearing its path as it wound among the slope of the hills.
Emily sought out her familiar log and settled herself to gaze at the blue stretch of sky above her head.
“I’ve made it through another winter, Lord,” she breathed quietly.“Thanks to you and your care. Now we face another spring. As wonderful as it is, it is a hardship too. The mud will be deep for a while. I won’t get much calling done. I do hope my garden is more workable this year—though you did get me through last winter without it. Still, I can’t expect those food baskets to keep dropping from heaven forever. But thank you for them, Lord. I much prefer those to food gifts from ravens.” She paused a moment and pictured her heavenly Father on His glorious throne smiling with her at her little joke.
“It’s been a good year. A hard one in many ways—but I’ve learned much from you. It was hard to lose Nicky—but wonderful to welcome Sophie as a sister in the faith. And thank you for Mrs. Woodrow and the way she has grown spiritually since giving her life over to you. I’m sorry that I was not able to talk to Mr. Woodrow before he died. Of course, only you know what might have happened in his heart before he passed on into eternity.
“Thank you for bringing Carl here. He has been a real blessing to me. I’m glad he caught on so quickly that we can only be friends. He’s such a good friend to have, Lord.
“I guess the thing that has bothered me the most—the oftenest—is the Travis family. Lord, it seems that there should be some kind of a solution to that problem. Surely someone could do something before one of the family members is hurt very badly. If I should interfere, in spite of what Mrs. Travis says, Lord, please make that clear to me.
“And then there is the matter of Big John and Miss McMann. Lord, I have failed in trying to share the Good News with them. I don’t see where I have made any progress at all—though she is friendly now. Almost seems to want my company. If you simply want to show your love to her through me, I’m willing, Lord.
“And Big John? He still growls and grouches when I come in—though he doesn’t taunt me anymore about being called to preach. I’m thankful for that—I wonder if he ever checked the scriptures I gave him. Only you know that, Lord.
“And thank you for caring for Ruth—and each of the others who have gone to serve you. Be with Morris as he leaves for Africa. Ruth says that he is to be married before he goes. I never really felt he would take time to find a wife—but you work out some marvelous things.
“Be with each member of my little congregation. I thank you for the Reillys. She’s been like a mother to me—and it sometimes makes me miss my own mother even more. But it’s been good to have her, Lord. I love to have someone to talk with who is motherly and wise—and who has loved you for a long time. When I visit with Sophie, she’s more like a sister.
“And, Lord,” Emily hesitated.“Be with Shad, wherever he is. Help him to put aside his bitterness—whatever caused it—and to open his heart to you. He needs you, Lord—and I know you still love him.” Emily paused again.“And sometimes I’m—I’m afraid I love him, too,” she added.
Emily finished her prayer with tears in her eyes. She wondered why she was unable to forget the man who seemed to have so completely stolen her heart—but who was so wrong for her to love.
When summer arrived, Emily planted her garden after Carl spaded it for her. She hoped the absence of the weeds might encourage her seeds to grow more prosperously.
“If it does well, I’ll share it with you,” she had promised Carl.
“No need for that,” he assured her.“Ma always plants a big garden and she sends her stuff to me already canned.”
Emily laughed.“Well, I won’t make any such promises,” she said lightly, and thanked Carl warmly for his help.
The garden was doing much better than it had the year before. Emily counted on it supplying vegetables for the entire coming winter.
“My pa is sick.” A voice suddenly interrupted Emily’s concentration as she weeded her carrots.
Emily lifted her head and saw Rena standing nearby.“Sick? How?” she asked, wondering if Mr. Travis was beating his wife again.
“He keeps throwin’ up and he’s too weak to get out of bed,” said Rena.
“Does your mother need help?” asked Emily.
“She said to fetch you,” answered the girl.
“What about Dr. Andrew? Does she want him to come?”
Rena shook her head.
“But I can’t do anything for a sick man,” Emily told her.
“She doesn’t want you to. She just wants your—your company,” said the child, and Emily went to her kitchen to wash the soil from her hands and get a light wrap.
“Let’s go,” she said to Rena and the two set off for the Travis farm.
She found the man in even worse condition than she had feared. Rena was right—he was very sick. His face was sunken, his skin had a yellowish cast, his eyes were bleary and unseeing. From time to time he thrashed about the bed, and then fell back exhausted, the sweat standing out in beads on his forehead.
Mrs. Travis had said nothing as Emily slipped in by her side. Emily sat silently for many minutes and then reached for the woman’s thin hand.“I will fix you some tea,” she whispered, and went to the kitchen.
She took the tea to Mrs. Travis and kept vigil with her, occasionally quoting a psalm from memory in a soft voice until the evening shadows began to lengthen.
“The children should be fed,” Mrs. Travis murmured wearily. Emily left for the kitchen to see what she could find to make a meal. The cupboards were almost as bare as Emily’s had been the winter before. She did find enough to make a batch of pancakes, and soon the griddle was sizzling, the smell of pancakes filling the air.
Timmie and Rena ate hungrily, and Emily continued to flip pancakes until they declared themselves “stuffed”; then she fixed a plate for the mother. But Mrs. Travis only picked at the food. Emily encouraged her to eat even though she did not feel hungry.
At last Emily removed the plate and washed up the supper dishes along with the stack that lined the tiny cupboards. After she finished, Emily prepared the children for bed and read them a story about Jesus blessing the children.
When she was sure the children were sleeping, Emily fixed another cup of tea for Mrs. Travis and offered it to her as she moved her chair beside the woman. Mr. Travis was quiet now. He had ceased to vomit and twist about. It seemed to take all his effort just to suck in another breath. Emily felt anxious and uncomfortable. Would they just sit and watch him die?
“Shouldn’t I get Dr. Andrew?” she asked the woman again.
“He’s been,” said the woman shortly.“Nothing that Doc can do now. It’s just a matter of time.”
The woman reached out and took the fragile hand of the man on the bed. She stroked it gently—lovingly, and Emily couldn’t help but cringe inwardly.
“Suppose you wonder how I can still love him,” she mused aloud.“Well, I haven’t always loved him. Sometimes I hated him—with such a passion that I could have killed him. I wanted to at times because of the way he was hurting the children.”
She was silent for a while, and then she went on.“But one day I was reading my Bible, trying to find some sense to life, when I came across a verse that says that we’re forgiven just as much we are able to forgive. Well, that stopped me right there. I knew—I knew that if I was to ever have peace with God, I had to forgive him.” Her eyes rested on her husband’s wasted form.“Even if he had caused me pain and suffering,” she continued.“At first I thought I’d never be able to do it. And I couldn’t have—in my own strength. But God helped me. I did forgive—and with that forgiveness I learned to love again.
“Oh, not like at first. Not like I loved the young man who won my heart long ago, but rather like a mother—pitying and caring. He was not just hurting us—but himself. I sometimes think that he has suffered most of all.”
She stopped again.“And so, though I still feared him—though I could no longer respect him, I didn’t hate him either. I loved—but in a different way.”
Emily felt she understood. In a way she loved him, too—this broken, degenerate man.
“He’ll not make it this time,” the woman went on quietly, “an’ it grieves my heart. For I know he isn’t ready to go. He hasn’t prepared to meet his Maker. There isn’t one thing more I can do to help him. He’s made his own choices—and he must face the consequence. I have prayed over and over that he be given one more chance—one more chance to start over. And God has answered that prayer—time and again. Now I realize that he will not change—no matter how many chances he is given.” This time her reserve broke and her voice caught in her throat.“It’s a hard thing to accept the truth—but—I have to give him up now. There’s no use putting my children through any more pain.”
There were tears falling as she stroked the still hand of the man on the bed. Emily’s heart ached for both of them—for the woman in her pain and for this man who, spiritually, was already dead. She stirred in her chair and said she would see to the fire.
“God,” Emily prayed when she was alone, “I’ve asked often for this family to be relieved of their suffering and pain—but I didn’t mean this way, Lord. Isn’t there another way? Is she right? Has he had his last chance?”
Emily put wood on the fire and paced the small kitchen before she was ready to once again take her place beside Annie Travis.
All through the long night they kept their vigil and into the next day. At two o’clock he breathed one last struggling breath and lay still. Emily knew he was gone. She knew that Mrs. Travis was aware of the fact also. There were no tears. The woman simply stood to her feet and drew the sheet slowly over the face of her husband.
“It’s over,” she said sorrowfully.“You can send for Doc Andrew. He will need to prepare a death certificate.”
Emily nodded and left for town.“Oh, God,” she prayed, “if he only had made his peace with you. I didn’t want it to end this way. I had so hoped and prayed …” But with a heavy heart Emily had to face the truth that there would be no more chances for Wilbur Travis.
The postmaster handed Emily a letter. She gazed at it curiously, not recognizing the handwriting.
Maybe it’s from one of the officers of
the church telling of some coming event,
she pondered as she started for home.
It certainly isn’t from anyone I know.
Emily tossed the letter on the table and removed her coat and bonnet. Walter sauntered up to greet her, and Emily picked him up, thankful for the warmth and companionship of the friendly cat. It was so much nicer than coming home to an empty house. She put another stick of wood in the stove and pushed the teakettle forward, knowing it would soon be time to put her supper on. When she had made her simple preparations, she sat down at the kitchen table and tore off the end of the envelope.
Emily could see that the note was not more than a few lines in length. She let her eyes fall quickly to the end of the message.
The letter was signed simply,
Shad.
Emily’s heart began to pound.
What does Shad have to say to me?
Dear Emily,
he wrote,
I’m sure this letter will come as a bit of a
surprise to you. You may have forgotten all about me—but I assure you,
I have not forgotten about you. Aunt Moll has kept me posted on your
welfare and your work.
I missed my yearly trip to the farm and also the annual Autumn Picnic.
I would have loved to be there—but I have been unusually busy.
I plan to visit the farm next weekend. Could I possibly see you? I have
some things I’d like to discuss, and a letter doesn’t seem appropriate.
