“I expect I’ll limp for a while, but good as new eventually.” He looked at Nora. “Maybe better.”
“Oh,” said Nora, giving Quinn a package he hadn’t even noticed she was holding. “Reverend Bauers sent this over for you. It came all the way from New York.”
“Who’d be sending me something from New York?” Quinn asked, looking at the package. He grinned when the return address read “Sir Matthew Covington,” care of some fancy-sounding hotel with a New York address. He pulled open the package to reveal a handsome set of drafting tools. A thick card with elegant handwriting read,
I hear you’ve put my last gift to good use. I pray you’ll do as well with these. Best, Matthew Covington.
“Glory,” said Quinn, running his hands over the unfamiliar tools. “They’re something, aren’t they?”
“Lord Covington seems to think rather highly of you,” Mr. Longstreet offered.
“He’s been a good friend.” Quinn looked up into the older man’s face and offered a smile. “We got off to a very bad start, he and I, but things managed to improve after a bit.”
“You have many good friends,” Nora said. “And much to look forward to.”
“Perhaps,” Mr. Longstreet said, planting his hands on his knees and looking at his wife, “this is one of those times where it was darkest before dawn. Perhaps a better day is coming for all of us, hmm?”
It wasn’t much of a speech, but it said everything Quinn had been hoping to hear. “I hope you’re right, sir. I sure hope you’re right.”
Mrs. Longstreet actually managed a nod. He nodded back, knowing how big a step that was for her. Over the course of the many hours he had to sit and think it over, he’d come to feel compassion for Mr. and Mrs. Longstreet. How wrong was it for them to want the best for their daughter, to cling to their familiar standards when everything else was collapsing around them? They loved Nora as much as he did. Surely there had to be a way to find some common ground in all that. God was a mighty God, after all, and He’d shown Himself in ways mightier than even Quinn could have dreamed.
He’d decided long ago that there’d be no stealing Nora away in the middle of the night. He’d wait until they came around. By the looks of today, just maybe they’d begun.
Mr. Longstreet checked his watch and stood up. “Well, it’s nearly two o’clock, there’s mail to tend to across the street. Nora dear, why don’t you stay here for a bit. I think I can manage a little while without you.” He reached for his wife’s hand, and while she hesitated, she took it and they ducked out of the shack together.
Quinn managed to count to five before he grabbed Nora’s hand and pulled her to him. She was a wonder. The finest thing God had ever sent to him. Her kiss could convince a man the world was a wondrous, hopeful place. “You’re mine, love, and I’m yours.” He kissed her, feeling its warmth fill up the room and spread all the way to Heaven. “It’s only a matter of time now. And you know how impatient I am.”
“I do, indeed.” Nora nestled her head on to his shoulder.
He kissed the top of her head and closed his eyes, oblivious to the world—until Ma’s voice pulled him from bliss.
“Well, I see you’ve run off our guests already, before anyone’s had tea. Do you think you two lovebirds could manage to tear yourselves away long enough to suffer a cup with your own mother?”
“Only just,” they said at the same time, catching each other’s eyes.
Epilogue
Surely my heart will explode, Nora thought as she stood trying to breathe in Reverend Bauers’s study. I won’t survive the day, much less the ceremony.
Papa caught her hand, the tenderest of looks in his eyes. “My brave Nora? Trembling? Surely it can’t be the prospect of marrying Quinn to put such fear into you.” He was teasing her, dispersing the tension, but the edge in his voice gave away his own frail composure. “My baby girl, no longer a baby girl.” He sighed. “And hasn’t been for some time.”
“Oh, Papa…” Nora couldn’t hope to finish the sentence. A featherlight kiss on her cheek was his only reply, and Nora thought the combined lumps in their throats might render them speechless for the rest of the year.
The mission bell chimed the hour, signaling it was time for the ceremony to begin. Papa swallowed hard as he opened the study door and offered his elbow. “Best not to keep Corporal Freeman waiting. I imagine Quinn’s current state would rival yours, impatient as he is.”
Nora’s steps down the hallway felt heavy and ill-placed. She feared her grip on Papa’s elbow was so tight he’d cry out any second. Not one part of her considered this wedding a mistake, and every fiber of her being yearned to be Mrs. Quinn Freeman, but the sheer enormity of the moment seemed to pound down upon her. In a split second’s musing, she wondered if Reverend Bauers was having any luck keeping Quinn from pacing the altar.
A cascade of lovely notes wafted down the hallway. Mama’s friend was certainly working wonders with Grace House’s old, cranky organ. Despite all the—what was the word Mama had used?—“rustic” charm of Grace House’s chapel, to marry Quinn anywhere else would simply seem wrong. Grace House, and all it stood for, was too much a part of her life and Quinn’s to join them elsewhere.
Turning the corner to start down the aisle, Nora thought she’d simply cease breathing and fall on the spot. Until her eyes met Quinn’s. His gaze erased the distance between them in a heartbeat, calming her with the warmth she saw there. She watched him go still, saw his shoulders settle from their panicked breaths, felt them find their home in each other’s eyes as they would for the rest of their lives. She would always draw her strength from this man God had sent her. Just as she would always pull from within him the man God intended Quinn to be. They were, truly, God’s gift to each other. The phrase seemed timeless now, instead of trite.
The ceremony unfolded around them and still she spent it transfixed in Quinn’s eyes. Both mothers cried and kissed their children, vows were spoken, blessings asked, rings exchanged. All of these things made them “married.” But it was the time-stopping kiss, the tender-sweet seal of their union surrounded by raised army swords and the enthusiastic pealing of the church bell, that made it real.
She was his and he hers. Today was full of joy and celebration. When tomorrow dawned, Corporal and Mrs. Quinn Freeman would deliver a new message to the world: all the hope their hearts could hold.
HISTORICAL NOTE
There really was a heroic postmaster during the San Francisco 1906 disaster. I chose not to use Arthur Fisk’s real name or his personal details, but to base my story around his generous declaration to deliver mail regardless of postage. He says it best himself: “The Postal Service as a means of communication among hundreds of thousands of distressed people was, I believe, an untold blessing.” His awareness of how the littlest of things can hold back despair became the seed from which this novel grew. It is, of course, fiction. There was no Black Bandit (save a cheeky stagecoach robber in the 1880s), nor a Midnight Messenger. The U.S. Army, presented with the gigantic task of holding the city together in its darkest hours, did an outstanding job. While there was plenty of corruption to go around, the army marketeering in the novel is more my invention than any real historical suspicion. Careful researchers will note I’ve played a bit with the geography, and I trust they will forgive my liberties in service of the story. One important and amusing fact to relate is that, in fact, a record number of marriages and romances are attributed to the disaster. A good reminder that love does, indeed, conquer all.
Dear Reader,
You don’t have to look far to find disasters these days. Personal, professional, regional, national and even global calamities threaten our hope on a daily basis. It is how we choose to respond, however, that makes us who we are. And lets God be who He is. Even the darkest of trials can hold great treasures if we are willing to unearth them. And nothing, ever, in the history of the world, has overcome the power of love. I hope this story helps you see the messengers of hope in yo
ur own life. I hope it inspires you to be a message of light into the darkness you can see around you. God never fails to equip us for that task, even when we feel least able. As always, I love to hear from you at alliepleiter.com or P.O. Box 4026, Villa Park, IL 60181.
With hope,
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
Nora gets her life “upended” in a way most of us may never see. When has your life been shaken to its core? What did you take away from the experience?
Reverend Bauers says, “God does not deal in luck or happenstance.” Do you agree or disagree? Where has your life given you evidence for your view?
What do you think of Quinn’s teeter-totter contraption? Are such distractions valuable or frivolous under such dire circumstances? Can you think of any similar situations in your own life?
What would you have done if you were Quinn and found the Bandit’s possessions after so many years?
“Why am I here?” or in Quinn’s case, “Why am I still here?” is one of life’s most basic questions. What answer would you give today?
Do you think Major Simon’s “painful lesson” was vivid teaching or just cruel? Could he have made the same point a different way?
Nora feels such a strong calling to help the people of Dolores Park. Have you felt such a calling? How did you respond?
Is Nora brave or foolish when she delivers Edwina’s doll? Where do you draw the line between those two? When is it worthwhile to cross it?
Have you had a token such as Nora’s locket that meant so very much to you? What’s useful about having such a touchstone? What’s dangerous?
Quinn says, “Everybody needs a partner.” Do you agree? Why?
Major Simon admits, “Hope is a very powerful weapon.” When has hope sustained you? Is there ever a time when hope isn’t enough?
Where is the line between secrecy and deceit? How does God deal with each in terms of Nora and Quinn?
Do the “walls” Quinn and Nora face still exist? What other walls have kept people apart in your life? How does God go about removing them?
Was Nora right or wrong to withhold what she knew about Annette? What would you have done in her circumstance?
Nora gets “the fight knocked out of her.” Has that happened to you? What role did God play in healing you? How did friends and family help?
ISBN: 978-1-4268-6507-7
MISSION OF HOPE
Copyright © 2010 by Alyse Stanko Pleiter
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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