Whispers from Yesterday (11 page)

Dusty wasn’t certain what caused it, but suddenly he was wide awake. He sat up and looked through the open doorway into the main room of the bunkhouse.

There it was again. A creaking floorboard. One of the boys was up. Probably using the bathroom.

And yet something in his spirit remained disturbed. Something wasn’t right.

He glanced at his clock. It was after three o’clock. He rose and moved quietly toward the door. There was enough moonlight coming through the windows to make it easy to see Hal as he shucked off his clothes and got into his bed.

The boy had been outside, Dusty realized. It must have been the sound of the closing door that had awakened him.

“Where you been?” Billy whispered sleepily, echoing Dusty’s thoughts.

“Nowhere, punk,” Hal answered. “Go back to sleep.”

Billy murmured something unintelligible, rolled over, and was silent once more.

Father, I feel as if Hal’s slipping out of my reach. How can I help him? Soften his heart, Lord. Make him willing to listen. Don’t let him make the same mistakes I made. Protect him. O God, protect him from himself.

Dusty returned to his bed, but sleep evaded him. Instead, his thoughts carried him back to his troubled youth—to the night of his sixteenth birthday.

The August night was hot and sticky, and the air conditioner was on the fritz. About as lousy a scenario as one could imagine for a guy’s birthday.

Dusty’s dad had been sick all day, feeling so rotten he hadn’t gotten out of bed even once. The plan had been to celebrate with dinner out, his dad and him and his best friend, Pete Gold. But with the old man sick, that had been canceled.

It made Dusty mad. He felt like his dad got sick on purpose, just to spoil their plans. It wouldn’t surprise him if it were true. Raine Stoddard was an old fogy, always down on whatever Dusty wanted to do. They fought all the time, over everything. Why would his dad want to spend a night on the town with the son he disapproved of in so many ways?

He was sitting on the front stoop, muttering obscenities and blaming his dad for every miserable thing in his life when Pete pulled to the curb in a souped-up Chevy, the powerful engine rumbling noisily.

“Hey, Dusty!” Pete yelled through the open window on the passenger side. “Get over here.”

Dusty was down the walk in a flash. Leaning on the car door, he looked in at his friend. “Where’d you get the fancy wheels?”

“My aunt gave it to me. Get in.”

He knew he shouldn’t. His dad was sick. But hey, it was his birthday. He didn’t want to stay home on his birthday.

Dusty opened the car door and slid in. “Let’s go.”

Tires squealing, the Chevy shot forward, leaving a patch of rubber on the pavement behind them.

They cruised around Chicago for the next few hours. They bought beer at a corner grocery store from a clerk who pretended Pete wasn’t underage. Outside a popular dance club, they picked up a couple of girls they knew from school.

Dusty was behind the wheel by that time. Pete was too wasted to drive. When Pete saw a row of flagpoles lining a sidewalk, he got the idea to grab one of the flags right off a pole as they drove past. Dusty told him he was crazy, but Pete insisted, and the two girls were yelling, “Go for it!”

Pete sat in the open window on the passenger side of the car. “Faster!” he shouted. He gripped the roof of the car and leaned out as far as he could go.

Dusty gunned it, pressing the gas pedal all the way to the floor. The Chevy responded with power. Pete reached for the first flag, whooping a cry of victory as his hand closed around the fabric.

And then suddenly he was gone, yanked clean out of the car.

Dusty slammed on the brakes, threw open his door, and hit the ground running.

But Pete was beyond help. He was already dead.

And that was only the beginning of the nightmare.

Dusty covered his face with his arm as he stifled a groan. He didn’t want to relive the days and weeks immediately following that dreadful night. It didn’t serve any purpose. What he wanted was to save the boys who came to the Golden T Youth Camp from experiencing similar sorrows, from making similar mistakes. He wanted to rescue them, turn their lives around, help them find a better way.

It was easy to get into trouble in this world. He’d been a rebellious, mouthy, out-of-control kid, but that wasn’t always the way of it. Sometimes it was the quiet ones who took a misstep and were plunged into misery.

But Hal … Hal was a lot like Dusty had been. Except Dusty hadn’t been deserted and rejected by his parents. Dusty’s father had loved him. Loved him more than he’d realized at the time.

It wasn’t until it was too late that he’d seen the truth.

The golden fingers of dawn were stretching above the eastern horizon by the time Karen closed Esther’s first journal. Seeing that the sun was nearly up, she glanced with surprise at the bedside clock. She’d been reading for over two hours!

If that wasn’t a sign of sheer boredom, she didn’t know what would be. Reading a young girl’s diary for all that time. And it wasn’t as if Esther Thompson’s life had been an exciting one. It was one of utter simplicity.

And yet, something had held Karen’s attention. Something in Esther’s story …

She gave her head a quick shake before pushing herself up from the floor.

“Ooh,” she groaned, feeling how stiff she was from sitting in one spot for so long.

She stretched from side to side, leaned down to touch the palms of her hands to the floor, then reached up over her head. She was ready to crawl back into bed, in the hopes of getting at least a little shuteye, when she heard Sophia’s voice raised in song.

Karen turned toward the window and looked out.

“Holy, holy, holy …,” Sophia sang as she moved with slow steps along a path that wound through the garden.

She really believes it. She really believes God’s up there, listening to her. It isn’t just a Sunday thing with her.

Karen leaned her shoulder against the window frame, a small frown furrowing her brow.

Why?
she wondered.
What makes my grandmother believe?

In the back of her mind, she heard another voice singing.

Dusty’s voice. Though it was only a memory from the previous Sunday’s church service, it seemed as if he were actually harmonizing with Sophia.

He believed too, she thought. Both of them believed in God in a way she’d never imagined believing. They had …
something.
Something she didn’t have. Like a secret that gave them great joy.

It bothered Karen. It bothered her a lot.

Saturday, February 13, 1937

Dear Diary,

Today, Sophia turned nineteen, and tomorrow is my eighteenth birthday. Mama has made new dresses for us to wear to church, and Papa gave us both pretty new hats. Sophia said I should have had to wait for my actual birthday before Mama and Papa gave me my presents.

It breaks my heart that we have grown so far apart. It has been worse since I accepted Christ as my Savior and Lord. Sophia has distanced herself more than ever before, and I cannot reach her, no matter how much I try. And I have tried. So very hard.

The Scriptures say in Luke that henceforth there shall be five in one house divided, three against two, and two against three. Surely that describes Sophia and me. But, oh, how I pray it will not continue to be true of us. I want to share this joy with my beloved sister. This above all else I want to share with her.

Last week Sophia accused me of getting religion only to impress Mikkel. She called me a hypocrite and worse. Her words seemed to crucify my Lord all over again, and they nearly broke my heart.

I pray for her. I will pray for her all the days of my life.

Father in heaven, help Sophia to see what it is I have found in You. Help her to see the abundance of life you have poured out upon me. Amen.

Esther

Sunday, February 14, 1937

Dear Diary,

Today, Mikkel asked me to marry him!

And I said Yes!!!

When he came to see Papa all those many weeks ago (that time I wondered if Papa could be in trouble of some sort), it was to ask for permission to court me and, when the time came, to propose marriage. He told me he was waiting for two things to happen. First, that I would come to know Jesus in my heart, and second, that I turn eighteen.

As of today, both conditions were met, and so after church services, Mikkel came to call on me. He declared his devotion in the sweetest of fashions, taking me by the hand and dropping to one knee, and then he asked for my hand in marriage. I was speechless at first. My heart raced so fast I was certain he must hear it. I could not speak and had to nod my answer. He smiled and kissed me.

He would like us to be married this summer, immediately after I graduate.

I have hoped this would happen almost from the moment I first saw him. For months I have hoped. But I never believed he would choose me.

I love him more than I ever thought possible, and he loves me. What a miracle!

Mikkel warned me that life as a minister’s wife will not
be an easy one. I do not care. I am not afraid. If I am with him and can serve our Lord too, what have I to fear?

Esther

P. S. Sophia looked at me tonight as if I were a boil that needed to be pricked. She has stopped speaking to me altogether.

TEN

Standing in the corral in the shade of the barn, Karen gripped the horse’s halter. “Easy, fella,” she crooned.

Dusty braced the gelding’s leg between his knees while cleaning dried blood from a gash that ran from knee to fetlock.

“Is it bad?” Billy asked.

“It’ll mend okay,” Dusty answered the boy without looking up. “But you won’t be able to ride him for several weeks.”

“I never shoulda left the trail. You told us not to, and I did it anyway.” Billy glanced at Karen with tear-filled eyes. “This is my fault.”

“You didn’t mean for it to happen,” she reassured him. “You couldn’t—”

“Billy’s right. He shouldn’t have left the trail. He was told about the barbed wire up there.” Dusty carefully set the horse’s hoof on the ground, then straightened, his gaze instantly clashing with hers. “He has to take responsibility for his own actions.”

Isn’t that a little harsh?
she wanted to ask.

His eyes clearly gave his answer.
No.

You big bully.

Stay out of it, princess.

She wanted to hit him. The overbearing, sanctimonious, hick from the sticks. Never in her life had she detested a man the way she detested Dusty Stoddard.

I wish he’d kiss me.
Her heart somersaulted at the surprising thought.
Oh no!

She couldn’t be falling for this backwoods cowboy. But she was. She was falling for him, and she was falling for him hard.

Dusty hunkered down and took Billy gently by the arms. “Son, it’s going to be your responsibility to take care of Sundowner. You’ll have to treat that leg with salve twice a day, morning and evening.”