When the Heavens Fall (39 page)

Eden fell to her knees with Brandon beside her, Brandon cried out to God and waited for Eden to do the same through her tears.

Afterward, neither of them could say how long they prayed, but there came a time of peace for Brandon. Looking into Eden's face, he felt a great joy. “We've found our way with God, haven't we, Eden?”

“Yes, we have.” He pulled her to her feet and with a great gentleness whispered, “I'll never forget this moment, Eden. If I ever have doubts about my salvation, I'll come back to this very spot and I'll tell God that this is where I gave my heart to him. Alongside you. I'll treasure the memory forever.”

“What will we do now?” Eden asked weakly, but her face was awash in joy. “I know you must tell your family, and they'll be so glad for you.”

“Yes, I must go to them. And I think you should tell your family as well.”

They walked along the edge of the cliff, and finally Eden asked, “What about us, Brandon?”

“We must move slowly, dear,” Brandon said. “I'd like to claim you right now, but I know that I must prove myself. Walk awhile in these new boots. It will take some time, but I ask you to be patient. When the right time comes, God will tell us what
to do with our lives.” He smiled then and took her in his arms. “I love you, Eden, and I believe that God will guide us toward each other.”

And then Eden Fairfax laughed, “I can wait, Brandon! I know you care for me and I know that God has touched me. Farewell for now, beloved. Go to your family; it will be the happiest day of their lives when you share it with them. When God speaks to you about us, come to me. I'll be waiting.”

Stuart and Heather were sitting beside the fire. She was reading. Stuart was merely staring into the fire, thinking long thoughts. They had been there for over an hour without saying a word. Suddenly a maid entered to say, “Sir, there's somebody at the door for you.”

Even as she spoke, they heard the door slam. Stuart got to his feet. Abruptly the doorway was filled with the form of Brandon. Heather cried out, “Brandon!” Leaping to her feet, she ran to him, and he opened his arms. He was stiff with cold, but she held on to him and cried, “What is it, Brandon? What's happened?”

Brandon could not speak for a moment, and when he did, his voice was husky. He reached out his free hand, and his father took it. “Father, you and mother have prayed for me all my life, and I thought your prayers were wasted, but they weren't.” He struggled, tears came to his eyes, his voice broke. “I found the Lord. I'm going to serve him the rest of my life.”

And there in that room with the fire crackling and snapping and roaring up the chimney, Stuart and Heather clung to their son, crying out their thanks to the God who had brought the prodigal home.

Betsy Price looked down at the child she was nursing, and lines of care appeared in her face. She held the child tightly and tried to ignore the dark fears for the future that rose in her.

“Betsy, girl, I don't know what we're going to do.” John Price was lying on a bed, his leg bound to a splint. He had been trampled by a horse. The break was bad enough to lay him low for weeks, perhaps months. The doctor had said he would walk again but he would always have a stiff leg.

“We'll be all right, John.”

“I don't know how.” John Price's voice was weak. He looked around the rough room at his two small children playing in a corner and then at the cupboard that he knew was nearly bare. “I won't be able to work. What will we do, Wife?”

“We'll make out fine. I'll raise a garden, and you'll get well and be able to do your work again.”

“The doctor said I never would be able to handle horses again. I'll never ride again, he said.”

Betsy was silent, for she was taking counsel of her own fears, but she tried her best to smile and said, “We've never starved, and we never will. God will take care of us.”

The two were silent then. They knew each other so well, and now they felt the pressure of poverty crushing them.

Suddenly a knock came at the door. Betsy looked up. “Who could that be, I wonder?” She got up and went to the door. When she opened it, she exclaimed, “Mr. Winslow!”

“It's me, Betsy. I came by to see how you and John were doing and your little ones.”

“Well, sir, he's been in considerable pain, and—” She broke off, unable to state the naked truth that they were facing a most bitter future. “Will you come in, sir?”

“Yes. I want to have a word with you and John.” Betsy stood back as the tall man entered the room, pulled up a chair, and sat down beside her husband's bed. His voice was cheerful as he spoke. “Well, John, how is it with you today?”

“The pain's not as bad, I don't think, sir.”

“Well, that's good. We'll just have to take good care of you, won't we, Betsy?”

“Yes, sir. I'm doin' the best I can.”

“How are your fine children doing?”

“They are—they are doing fine, Master Winslow. Just a little—” She would not say “hungry”; that would sound like begging. She saw Winslow's eyes go to the children in the corner, who were watching him, and then to the infant in her arms.

He said quickly, “Well, I've decided that it's time for Christmas to come a little early. Let me step outside. I've brought something.” He disappeared.

As soon as he was gone, Betsy whispered, “What is he doing, John?”

“I don't know. He seems a changed man!”

When Winslow came in, his arms were full of a huge ham and several bags. A short, grinning servant was behind him, also loaded with food.

“Here, we've got some good things for you. A big, fat ham and some fresh fish. Two gallons of milk from the finest cows in
England and plenty of fresh-baked bread. Put the stuff right over there on that table, Philemon.”

“Yes, sir.” The servant loaded the table, and Brandon added his own burdens to it until it was stacked high. “Bring the rest of it in and just put it anywhere.”

“Oh, sir,” John said, tears welling up in his eyes. “How kind it is of you to think of us.”

“Well, why wouldn't I think of you? After all, John, you were always kind to me when I was a lad just learning to ride. I remember all the lessons you gave me.”

John Price spoke huskily. “It's a godsend, sir, I must say. I've been fretting a bit.”

“Fretting about what?”

“The doctor said I won't be able to do the things I used to do.”

“Well, that comes to all of us. Sometimes it's just age. I've found out I can't do the things I could do when I was eighteen. But you're going to be all right, John.”

“No, sir, I'm afraid not.” Price lifted his eyes, and the misery showed in them. “I don't know what I'll do, sir.”

Brandon Winslow seemed to fill the small room, his voice full and reassuring. He smiled, and his blue eyes seemed to light up his face. “Well, I'll tell you what you'll do, John. You'll go on working for the Winslows as you have for most of your life. Maybe you can't do your old job at Stoneybrook so well, but there's plenty of work to do around here. I'll see to it that you have a good place as long as you want it. I've always thought well of you and Betsy and your fine children.” He got to his feet and said sternly, but with a good smile, “Now, I don't want you worrying. If you need the doctor or if you need anything, send word to me. I'll have Philemon, here, check on you too.” He put his hand out and took John's thin one in his. “God's going to take care of you, my dear friend. Don't worry.” Turning, he put his hand out to Betsy. She felt the strength of his grip and lifted her eyes to his.

“You take good care of this man and of these children. All right?”

“Yes, sir. God bless you, sir.”

“I'll be seeing you then.”

As soon as the door was closed, Betsy began to cry. “He's not the same man.”

“No, he's not. Ever since he's come back home again he's been different. Everybody's talkin' about him. Been six months now, and he's not the same at all. He never cared much for people except for himself.”

“I was talking to Lady Heather. She was telling me,” Betsy said, “how he serves God now with all his heart.”

“Well, I believe in miracles, and our miracle is Mr. Brandon Winslow. We're going to be all right, girl.”

“Didn't I tell you God would take care of us?”

Stuart looked out the window and saw Brandon speaking with some of the servants who worked with the horses and in the fields. “It's a miracle, isn't it, Heather?”

Heather came over to stand beside him. They looked down as their son spoke to each man, clapped some of them on the shoulder, and then led them off. “It really is a miracle, isn't it?”

“Indeed,” she said.

“All those prayers for all those long years. There were times, I must admit, I didn't know if God was listening or not.”

“He brought our son back to us, but he's not the old Brandon. He's got a heart in him now, hasn't he? God is so real in his life.”

“Yes. Quentin is ecstatic over the change. He's noticed that Brandon hasn't missed a Sunday in church and that he's filled with the spirit of God. We've got a lot to be thankful for, Wife.”

“Yes. We have. This our son was lost and now is found. I think there's a scripture like that.” Both of them stood giving thanks to God for the new son that God had sent them.

Queen Mary had always been a headstrong woman, but now she was almost fanatical, and the cause of it was clearly Philip. Philip of Spain had married Mary—most understood except Mary herself—in a marriage of convenience. Philip cared nothing for Mary. He was interested only in making England part of the Spanish empire. He had succeeded beyond his dreams. Mary had never admitted to herself that Philip did not love her. She was infatuated with the man. Now in the middle of 1558 she was ill, and Philip had gone back to Spain. Rumor had it that he had given up on producing an heir. But before he left, he persuaded Mary to declare war on France. The struggle that was going on between Spain and France at that time was equal, but Philip had convinced Mary that England's weight would give the advantage to Spain.