Whispers from Yesterday (19 page)

Everything, Karen.

What if she didn’t want to give up everything? What about the free gift of salvation and forgiveness and all that other stuff she’d heard preached?

Everything, Karen.

That was too much to ask of anybody. Besides, Karen had already lost everything, thanks to her father. So what else did she have to give?

What do You want from me anyway?

Everything, Karen.

“Gee, Miss Sophie’s gonna be surprised,” Billy said, grinning from ear to ear.

“She certainly is,” Dusty answered as he started up the ladder.

He’d been waiting several weeks for Sophia to take one of her rare trips into the city. He’d dropped a number of hints, and finally, she’d taken the bait. So while she and Karen were gone for the day, Dusty and the boys were painting the house with bright yellow paint purchased by a member of their church.

His grin, he thought as he applied the brush to the faded siding, must look a lot like Billy’s.

Many times he’d heard the story of the day Bradley Taylor had painted the small ranch house, a surprise for his wife who, so the story went, had often complained about the drabness of their surroundings in those early years before the trees had grown tall and the garden had flourished. And so Bradley had made it less drab. Sophia had returned from a day of helping a sick neighbor to find her house sporting a coat of the brightest shade of yellow she had ever seen.

More than once, Dusty had offered to paint the place for her, but she repeatedly said there were other things the youth camp needed more than to be gussied up. True, perhaps, but he was glad they could do it anyway.

“You think we’ll get it done before they get back?” Noah asked from his perch atop another ladder.

“I hope so. I gave Miss Karen a list of things to do, besides whatever errands Miss Sophie has.”

Ted slapped paint on the porch railing. “Bet Miss Karen would’ve liked to help us.”

Dusty considered the comment a moment, then decided Ted was right. Karen would have liked to help. He grinned. Weeks ago, the last of her manicured nails had been clipped short.

I think I love her, Lord. Now what?

He’d like to tell her how he felt, but he knew he couldn’t. Not yet. Not until she made a decision for Christ.
And if she never does?
His chest tightened.
What if she never does?

After all these years of working with and counseling troubled teens, he knew not everyone who was presented with the gospel accepted it. Many rejected it. He supposed the majority rejected it. Karen could reject it too. No matter how much he wanted it to be otherwise.

If she had the wherewithal to return to California, would she? Or was there a chance she would want to stay? Was it possible she might care for him too? And if she did care, would it be so terrible to ask her to marry him? Would God really object?

He frowned, not liking the confusion and uncertainty of his thoughts and feelings.

Show me what to do, Jesus. And if You don’t mean for me to feel this way about Karen, please take it from my heart.

Their last stop for the day was at the mall.

“Why don’t you treat yourself to a milk shake or a sundae,” Sophia suggested while pointing at a nearby bench. “Then you can wait for me there. I’m going into the Christian bookstore. I won’t be but a moment.”

Karen didn’t want anything to eat, but she was more than willing to sit down. She was exhausted. Her grandmother, on the other hand, seemed brimming with energy.

With a sigh, she settled onto the bench and allowed her eyes to drift closed. The sounds of the busy mall slowly faded into the background.

Dusty Stoddard, studying for his master’s degree. Imagine that.
I’m a snob.

It wasn’t a flattering discovery about herself. She’d judged him as an uneducated cowboy, even after all these weeks, even once she’d come to know him. Even after she’d fallen in love with him. She’d assumed it was good intentions alone that guided him in his work. That he had no ambitions or dreams of his own. She’d thought him merely guided by his religious principles and nothing more.

And maybe that would be enough for someone like him.

Karen had a college degree, and look at her. She was virtually useless. Dusty, on the other hand, had done something useful with his life from an early age. Who was she to judge anyone else? She knew nothing of any value. Nothing.

For the Lord gives wisdom
;
from His mouth come knowledge and understanding.

Who’d told her that? she wondered. Her grandmother? Dusty? Or maybe she’d heard it at their church. Well, it didn’t matter who’d said it. She didn’t believe it anyway.

“I’m back.”

Karen opened her eyes to see Sophia coming toward her, a small sack clutched against her chest, held there with both arms. “No ice cream?” Sophia asked.

“No. I wasn’t hungry. Would you like me to get you something?”

Her grandmother sat on the bench next to her. “No, thank you, dear.” She opened the sack. “I bought something for you.” She placed a box on Karen’s lap. “I wanted you to have a Bible of your own, for when we go to church.”

“I’m not sure I want to go to church again,” she said as she stared at the gift. “It only confuses me.”

“I know,” Sophia whispered. “I know.”

Karen intentionally didn’t look at her grandmother. She knew she would see compassion in the elderly woman’s eyes, and she didn’t want to see it. She was tired of seeing it.

Sophia’s hand covered hers. “It’s all right, my dear child. Understanding doesn’t happen overnight.”

Karen nodded, unwilling to admit she didn’t think understanding would ever come, no matter how much time passed. She simply couldn’t believe the things Sophia believed, the things Dusty believed. She couldn’t.

Everything, Karen.

Or maybe she could … and was afraid.

Thanksgiving Day, 1938 Dear Diary,

This was our second Thanksgiving in Denmark. Hannah and Isaac and their children, Ben and Ruth, joined us for dinner. Before we said grace, Isaac announced Hannah is expecting again.

I tried not to show my grief when he told us the news. I mourn my baby so, despite all the time that has passed. Often, I wish I could leave this place and return home to Mama and Papa and the old farm, yet I could never tell Mikkel how I feel. He loves the people here. He loves his work. He knows he is walking in God’s will.

What is God’s will for me? I do not know. Whatever it is, I feel far from it.

Esther

Tuesday, February 14, 1939 Dear Diary,

Today was my twentieth birthday. Hannah and Isaac joined Grandfather Fritz, Mikkel, and me for a little party. Hannah baked a cake, and Isaac gave me a beautiful Star of David, the Mogen David, that he carved himself. Tie said it is a symbol of hope and strength to all Jews.

Mikkel gave me a copy of Hannah Whitall Smith’s book, The Christian’s Secret of a Happy Life and also John Bunyan’s The Pilgrim’s Progress. I look forward to reading them both.

Of course, this day is more than just my birthday. Two years ago, Mikkel proposed to me while down on one knee. This morning, he knelt beside the bed, took hold of my hand, and told me that it was the wisest thing he ever did, asking me to be his wife.

What wonderful words to hear! They made me cry.

I love him so much, and my heart breaks because I have been unable to conceive again. I know Mikkel wants children as much as I do. Many children.

The doctor says I should not worry. That there is no reason I should not have another child. But in my darkest moments, I wonder.

Maybe these thoughts are worsened because of Hannah. She is so happily pregnant. Plump and gay. And beautiful, too, with her shiny dark hair and large brown eyes. She is my dearest friend in Copenhagen, and she has taught me a great deal about God’s chosen people.

I was dreadfully ignorant of so much before coming to Denmark.

One thing I do tease Hannah about—she is horribly superstitious. She will not discuss names for the baby before its birth. To do so, she says, would be to invite spirits to affect the child in some way. She says that to know a person’s name is to know his being, and, therefore, to speak the child’s name before it is born could control its destiny.

And another thing that is not considered is naming a child after someone living, even to do them honor, just as I named my beloved Sophie after my sister. Hannah says to do so might cause the soul of the one so honored to be transported to the baby. Not only could this affect the character of the infant but it could cost the life of the elder person.

They seem so strange to me, these Jewish beliefs and customs, but I suppose no more strange than many of my American beliefs and customs seem to her. Different, we may be, but we are also very much the same.

And God loves all of us. No matter our color. No matter our nationalities.

Why can’t the world understand this? There is so much hate and fear in Europe now. I scarcely gave notice when Nazi forces marched into Austria last March because it was on the same day Sophie was born, and I think Mikkel has tried to shield me from the worst. Sometimes he and Grandfather talk in Danish about the events transpiring. I can only understand part of what they are saying, but it is enough to make me wonder how long we will be safe here.

And so I cling ever harder to God’s word in Isaiah that says, “Hast thou not known? hast thou not heard, that the everlasting God, the LORD, the Creator of the ends of the earth, fainteth not, neither is weary? there is no searching of his understanding. He giveth power to the faint; and to them that have no might he increaseth strength. Even the youths shall faint and be weary, and the young men shall utterly fall. But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.”

Esther

EIGHTEEN

As far as Dusty was concerned, Sophia’s reaction to the newly painted house was everything he and the boys had hoped for and then some. Despite her long day in the city, she walked around the house, not once but twice, admiring and commenting upon the job they’d done. She didn’t seem to notice any of the imperfections, although they were obvious to all.

“What d’you think, Miss Karen?” Billy asked as he took hold of her hand.

“I think it’s wonderful,” she answered. “I wish I could have helped.”

“I told Dusty that’s how you’d feel.”

“You did?” She glanced over her shoulder.

Their gazes met, and Dusty’s sudden need to draw her into his arms and kiss her almost overwhelmed him. And the wanting was more than physical desire. It was something deeper, unlike anything he’d felt before in his life.

There was no more trying to deny it. He’d fallen in love with Karen Butler.

“I sure did,” Billy said in answer to her question. “But Dusty was countin’ on you to keep Miss Sophie away all day so we could get it done.”

She returned her gaze to the boy at her side. “Dusty knows best, doesn’t he?”

Not always, Karen.

Dusty stopped, letting the others move on without him.

Father, is this something You want for me? I’ve never given much thought to loving a woman or getting married. It seemed like You had other plans for my life. But has that changed, Lord?

His prayer had barely taken wing when he heard a voice behind him say, “Mr. Stoddard?”

He turned, and there stood Patty Call. Her face was flushed from the heat; sweat trickled near her temples. A backpack was slung over her left shoulder, and with her right hand, she clutched a duffel bag.

“Mr. Stoddard, I’m looking for Junkman. Has he come back? Do you know where he is?”

“No. We haven’t heard from him.”