Sing the Wondrous Story

by Faith Blum

  “Spit it out and I can let you know.”

  Jason nodded. “Well, a while ago, you were hesitant to be in the same room as Sidney DeBois and even more hesitant to tell me why. Are you willing to talk about it now?”

  Claire grimaced. “I’d hoped you would forget about that.”

  “Sorry. You don’t have to—”

  “No, I want to.” She took a deep breath. “It’s silly, actually. It goes all the way back to school. I was the fat, ugly bookworm and Sidney was the rich, handsome popular boy. He always had girls around him as well as boys, listening to every word he had to say and imitating him. He was the instigator in many teasing sessions that drove me deeper into my books. It never helped my studies as much as I hoped, but at least it kept me away from him. I guess I’ve never really gotten over the awful things he used to call me.”

  Jason frowned. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It’s nothing that can be fixed now. I just wish he had changed, for Jessa’s sake.”

  Jason sighed. “Me, too.” He paused. “Can I...? Do you mind if I ask you for advice?”

  “No, of course not. What is it?”

  “Jessa worries me. She hasn’t moved on.” He scratched his head. “Actually, she has. But not in a good way. She’s dressing like a spinster and talking to girls about how awful men are and not to even entertain the thought of marriage. I don’t know what to do. She’s...”

  “Confused?”

  “Confusing. One month she can’t get enough dresses, the next, she’s purging everything pretty and keeping only her drab clothes. I don’t get it.”

  Claire licked her lips. “I can’t say I really understand her, but she is hurting. My guess is this is her way of coping with that hurt. It’s the only way she can come up with on her own to deal with Sidney’s abandonment of her. Do you know if she’s heard the latest about him?”

  “No, I don’t think she has, but I have. If she did know, she’d be ranting about the evils of gambling. Which wouldn’t be a bad thing, mind you. Gambling is wrong in any form.” He sighed again. “Any ideas on how we could talk to her without talking to her? She refuses to speak a word to me.”

  Claire tapped her cheek, got up and went to the desk, and pulled out some paper, pen, and an inkwell. “A letter. What would you like to say?”

  For the next hour, they labored over the letter. The end result was:

  Dearest Jessamine,

  When I (Jason) got back from my two years away, I know I was hard on you and rather judgmental. Again, I’m sorry I was that way. You are my beloved sister, and I don’t want anything to come between us. I had concerns about Sidney from the very beginning, but said nothing because I assumed Dad knew more about him than I did.

  We have both done some digging, and I went to Mr. DeBois to find out if the rumors were true. This is something you won’t want to hear, but something we think you really need to hear. If you haven’t heard, it is a good thing Sidney stopped courting you. He took up gambling a while ago and has lost a lot of money doing it. That is why he went after the other young lady.

  Jessa, you are a beautiful young woman. We both think you will make someone a wonderful wife and mother someday. Right now, you are hurt by Sidney’s callous attitude toward you and I’m sure that is very hard for you. The only thing that can fill the void and heal your hurt is God.

  You deserve to be more than someone’s gambling payoff. You are worth more than just a prize in someone’s hand of poker.

  I know you blame God, but have you considered that He did this so you could see Sidney’s true colors? Neither of us can truly imagine what you feel like and we aren’t even going to try. But we both know the peace and love from knowing Christ.

  If you get nothing else from this letter, please know we are both here for you, we both love you dearly, and we want the best for you. Please come to either one of us if you have any questions or just want to talk.

  Sincerely,

  Jason and Claire

  Claire dotted the i in her name, dusted the ink, blew the dust off, and handed the letter to Jason. He read it carefully. “I think you misspelled something,” he said with a straight face.

  “What? Let me see.”

  Jason held the letter out of her reach.

  “Jason Poler!” Claire exclaimed. “What are you doing?”

  Jason doubled over in laughter. “That was... The look on your face.” He tried to stop laughing and finally did. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist teasing you. There are no misspelled words that I could find. It sounds very good.”

  “Thank you. I think.”

  “I’ll slip this under Jessa’s door tonight when I get home.”

  Claire shook her head. “I think you should hand it to her personally.”

  Jason grimaced. “You think so?”

  “Yes. She may not like it at first, but the personal touch will hopefully impact her later. She doesn’t have to say anything either.”

  “But I do.”

  Claire nodded.

  “Like what?”

  “You are creative. I think you can figure something out.”

  “I’m not so sure.” He stuck out his lower lip in an exaggerated pout.

  “Oh, please, Jason. Grow up a little. You aren’t three anymore. The puppy dog eyes and pout don’t work as well for grown men.”

  “They do sometimes.”

  “How do you know?”

  He crossed his arms. “I’m not telling.”

  “What is with you today? You are being extremely odd.”

  “Good question. It’s probably because the weight of the confession and figuring out how to talk to Jessa being lifted let out a new side of me.”

  “Maybe. You sure it isn’t more than that?” Claire asked.

  Jason’s stomach knotted up. Had she guessed? “No, I’m not sure. But it’s as good an explanation as any, isn’t it?”

  Claire’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe.”

  Jason glanced at the clock. “It’s late. I should get home. Thanks for a lovely dinner, talk, and for helping with the letter.”

  “You’re welcome,” Claire said hesitantly. “Are you sure you have to leave so abruptly and so soon?”

  Jason tapped his toes on the floor. “Yes, I think I do. Don’t I?”

  “I’m fine with you staying for a little longer. Mother?”

  Mrs. Hopkins peeked into the room. “Yes?”

  Claire smiled. “Are you?”

  “Am I what?”

  Now it was Claire’s turn to cross her arms. “You heard what was said.”

  Mrs. Hopkins’s face reddened. “Yes, it is fine if he stays another half hour or so.”

  “Thank you, Mother,” Claire said with a grin aimed at Jason.

  Jason leaned back in his chair. “I guess I’m staying, then.”

  “I guess so. What shall we talk about?”

  “I don’t care. What do you want to talk about?”

  Claire leaned forward, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “What really caused you to be so giddy a few minutes ago and why you suddenly wanted to leave.”

  Jason gulped. “Nothing.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “I know.”

  “So what is it really?”

  He sighed. “I’m not at liberty to say at the moment.”

  Claire pouted and huffed.

  “Now you’re the one with the exaggerated pout and puppy eyes. It won’t work on me, either.”

  Claire giggled. “All right. Shall we play a quick game of checkers?”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  “Excellent.”

  12. The Letter: Jessa

  Jessa lay on her back, staring at the ceiling above her bed, hoping it might say something or do something, or anything. Something to break the monotony; a monotony she had created for herself. No! She hadn’t, Jason had. He had been the one to suggest she was bitter. He was the one who used the name of him. The fiend. The rascal. The, the, the...
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  She curled up into a tight ball. The most wonderful man she had ever met and would ever meet, and now he had run after another woman. A woman who looked like someone he would have mocked a month before and now he was courting her?

  A quiet tap, tap came through her door. “Who is it?”

  “Jason. May I come in?”

  “No.”

  “I have something for you. I only want to talk for a short time.”

  “No.”

  Jason’s sigh could be heard even through the door. “Very well. I have a letter here written by Claire and myself. I know you don’t want to hear from me, but I couldn’t let you keep going on like this. Jessa, please read the letter. If you still wish to never speak to me, I can live with that.”

  Jessa’s heart clenched and leaped at the same time. She missed her brother. He could be rather troublesome at times, but she still remembered the night he had let her cry on his shoulder. How could he care for her so much when she had said barely a kind word to him since he had come back?

  Her stomach knotted up and she blinked back tears. “Slide it under the door and go away.”

  A scratching, scraping noise came from the door, and the light of her candle reflected off of a piece of paper. Jessa gulped and propped herself up on her elbows to get a slightly better look.

  “Goodnight, Jessa. Sleep well and know I think of and pray for you often.”

  Goodnight, Jason. She couldn’t bring herself to say the words. Jason’s footsteps faded as he left her door.

  Jessa stared at the letter. She wanted to throw it into the fire, but she also wanted to pick up the letter and read what Claire and Jason said. She sat up straight, never keeping her eyes off the paper half under the door.

  A door down the hall shut, and Jessa glanced at the clock. Half past ten. She needed to sleep. The letter could wait until morning. Maybe then she would be thinking more clearly.

  ***

  She tossed and turned most of the night, the letter calling out to her silently. As first light appeared on the horizon, she fell into a fitful sleep until a sunbeam shone directly in her eyes. She groaned and rolled carefully out of her bed, splashed some cold water on her face, and stumbled toward the wardrobe to pick out her dress. The light gray, the lavender, or the dark gray.

  She chose the lavender for a spot of color in her dreary days. As she turned toward her door, the white under it caught her eye and sudden memories of the restless night flooded back along with her brother’s words. Jessa bent over, picked up the paper, and sat on the edge of her bed.

  Five minutes later, she had read the letter twice. A gambler? And one who was in debt? One whose father wouldn’t let him have any more money?

  Tears streamed down her face. Had Jason made this up? Jessa’s stomach clenched. No, he wouldn’t do something like that. He was too honest for that. Honest to a fault. Something she had always liked about him. One of many things. But this letter.

  Jessa shook her head. She needed to eat. Maybe she could process things better then.

  ***

  Jessamine read the letter over a dozen times the next two days. Claire and Jason seemed so sincere. Could they be right about God?

  “No!” She threw the letter out of her hand, but it didn’t do enough, so she picked up the nearest object. The book thudded against the wall. Tears streamed down her face as she ran down the stairs, out the kitchen door, and into the woods behind the house. She ran and ran, not caring about the thorns and branches ripping her skirts. Once a good distance from her home, she collapsed to her knees, buried her head in her hands, and sobbed.

  Why did everything have to be so confusing? Why couldn’t men be honorable? Why couldn’t life be simple? If God was real, why couldn’t He make things easier? If they were easier, she could believe He existed.

  Her sobs quit suddenly. Or did she have things the wrong way around? She hadn’t given God a thought until Sidney rejected her. Now she was. Her head ached from thinking so hard.

  Jessa knelt on the ground and looked through the trees. “God, if You’re out there, I want to understand, but I don’t. I don’t even know if You are real. I want to believe You are, but I don’t know if I can.”

  She sighed. “Is it too much to ask You to make Yourself known to me somehow?” She paused and waited. After a few long minutes, she stood up and brushed off her skirt. “I thought so. Well, I guess all I can do now is go home and...” She saw her skirt for the first time. “Ugh. I guess I’ll go home and try to repair my dress.”

  The trip home took longer than the one there as she tried to figure out where to go and how to get home. She stumbled through the brush and trees, making the dress more and more irreparable. When she arrived home, she slowly opened the kitchen door, peeking in to see if her mother was there. She wasn’t. She tiptoed through the kitchen and dining room and then down the hall. She made it to her room undetected and once inside, she finally started breathing again.

  ***

  Two days later, Jessa walked through town aimlessly. Both of her friends were indisposed, and she had nothing to shop for. She reached the edge of town and turned around. As she made her way back, she saw a familiar form walking toward her.

  Her throat clenched. She couldn’t talk to him. Not now. Not with her mind so confused and her anger ready to rise to the surface. She looked up and down the street. No way to cross. Maybe if she kept her head down, he wouldn’t recognize her.

  She kept walking. He approached too quickly.

  “Jessa?”

  His voice still so smooth, so deep, so... She swallowed hard and stopped to look at him. “What do you want, Sidney?”

  He pursed his lips. “I’m sorry.”

  Jessa narrowed her eyes. “That’s all you have to say? What exactly are you sorry about?”

  “Everything. I should have told you I wouldn’t be coming anymore. I should have come straight with you about everything. I should have stopped when I could have a long time ago. Now I’ve lost both of you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Sidney ran his fingers through his hair. “She told me to stop calling on her. She saw through me. She knew I was after the money rather than her.”

  “It isn’t hard to tell that, Sidney.”

  Sidney gritted his teeth. “I thought I hid it well.”

  “A woman always knows when she’s being used.”

  “Did you?”

  Jessa’s mouth went dry. “No, but I thought what we had was real.”

  Sidney at least had the courtesy to look away. “It was, I think. At least at first.”

  “But not the whole time?”

  He pursed his lips. “I don’t know.”

  Jessamine clenched her jaw. “Good day, Mr. DeBois. I hope you enjoy your miserable life.” She stepped around him.

  As she passed by, he grabbed her arm lightly. “Before you go, I do have a favor.”

  “No.”

  “Please, just hear me out. I know I hurt you badly and I’m sorry. I really did—and do—like you. I want to see where our relationship could go and if we could return to what we were before I messed things up. Can we at least be friends?”

  Jessa wrenched her arm out of his grip. “Absolutely not. After what you did, I don’t ever want to see you again. Good day and good riddance.” She marched away quickly, reaching home faster than she ever had before, nearly bowled Jason over, and rushed to her room. She collapsed onto her bed and sobbed her heart out—again—until she fell asleep.

  13. Proposal

  Three days after giving Jessa the letter, Jason hadn’t heard from or seen his sister. He knew she still existed because his mother made sure she told him so at least once a day. Jason prayed for her often as the days went by. It was easy to pray during work. As he pounded nails into a roof, he prayed. While stuffing chinking into walls, he prayed. He didn’t always pray about Jessa, though. He also prayed for his future and especially for the courage to talk to Mr. Hopkins.

  The next
Tuesday, Jason made his way to Mr. Hopkins’s store and prayed Claire wouldn’t be there. Half the time she was, half the time she wasn’t. If she was, he would talk to her. If she wasn’t, he would talk to her father.

  He entered the store and looked around.

  “If you are looking for Claire, she isn’t here.”

  Jason started at the sound of Mr. Hopkins’s voice and Mr. Hopkins chuckled.

  “I’m sorry if I startled you. I’m behind the counter, but hiding.”

  “Hiding from whom?”

  “Claire’s beau.”

  “Why?”

  Mr. Hopkins stood up. “I’m afraid of what he’s come to my store about.”

  Jason raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t know I induced that much fear in people.”

  Mr. Hopkins came around the counter. “Not most people, but some.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Well, for me, it means I lose my oldest daughter. Although, I know she’ll be very happy. Happier than she’d be if I refused to let her marry you.”

  Jason swallowed hard. “Does this mean I don’t have to even ask the question I wanted to?”

  Mr. Hopkins’s cheeks hollowed as if he were biting his tongue. “Not at all. You still have to talk to me as if I didn’t already know what you meant to say.”

  Jason snapped his fingers. “Oh well. I had to try.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Mr. Hopkins, I love your daughter, Claire, and she is everything I ever wanted in a wife and more. May I ask her to marry me?”

  Mr. Hopkins leaned against the counter. “Claire told me about your conversation regarding your work. I can’t say I would prefer what you are doing, but I commend you both for agreeing to it and taking that leap of faith. However, if I ever find any reason to believe you are not providing for her needs—not wants, mind you, but the needs—I will not hesitate to step in and give you a stern talking-to.”

  Jason nodded soberly. “Thank you. I appreciate that. All of it.”

  Mr. Hopkins smiled. “You have my permission and blessing to marry Claire.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “You’re welcome and God bless you both.”