She remembered that on All Saint’s Day, the relatives came to decorate the cemeteries. She had joined the sisters and the students at the convent in this ceremony. They cut down weeds that grew rank in some of the cemeteries, and they patched and freshly whitewashed tombs.
Always one could hear the tap-tap of the marble cutters’ mallets on the tombs of those who had recently been interred. People brought vases of marble and cement and glass and thousands and thousands of chrysanthemums to the cemeteries and placed them at the tombs. Leonie saw that many of the burial sites were graced not with flowers but with funeral ornaments that consisted of floral emblems called immortelles. They were made of wire, beads, and glass. She had heard someone say that Mark Twain, the writer, had said on a visit, “The immortelle requires no attention; you just hang it up, and there you are. Just leave it alone; it will take care of your grief for you and keep it in mind better than you can.”
This had seemed callous to Leonie, and she had resented its seeming indifference to genuine grief. Finally she left the cemetery, disturbed for some reason, and walked down toward the river. For a long time she walked along the banks of the Mississippi, watching the steamboats as they moved in a stately fashion up- and downstream. All the time, she was thinking about her grandmother and Belle Fleur. She had had to remain in prayer almost constantly to keep her spirit sweet, for a bitterness would rise in her, and she would have to struggle against her natural instinct to strike out. When not thinking of this, she was thinking of Ransom Sheffield and what his caresses meant.
Finally she decided to go see the sisters. She made her way through the city until she reached the convent. As soon as she went in, Sister Margaret greeted her. Surprised, Leonie asked, “Where is Sister Agnes?” Agnes usually met all visitors.
“You have not heard?” asked Sister Margaret.
“Why, no. What is it?”
“She’s very ill,” Sister Margaret said, shaking her head sadly. “The doctor says she can’t live long.”
Leonie stared at the nun, filled with shock. Sister Agnes had not been a favorite with most of the students; she was a hard taskmaker. But lately, since she had left the convent and been out on her own, Leonie had discovered another side to the woman. She asked, “Could I see her?”
“I think it would be very good. She may not know you, however.”
Leonie followed Sister Margaret to the infirmary. She walked into the room and was stunned to see Sister Agnes’s emaciated form.
“She can’t eat. The doctors have tried everything. There’s nothing they can do,” Sister Margaret whispered.
“I’ll just sit by her.”
Sister Margaret left, and Leonie stood over the bed of the dying woman. Sister Agnes’s face was merely the outline of a skull. Her lips were drawn back, and she moaned slightly in her sleep. Leonie took a chair and drew up closer. Sister Agnes moved occasionally, as if in pain. Finally she opened her eyes, and her lips moved slightly. “Leonie,” she whispered.
“Sister Agnes,” Leonie said. She reached over and took the hand that was nothing but skin and bones. “I’m so sorry to find you like this.”
“Don’t be sorry. I’m going to be with my Lord soon.” The voice was weak and thin, and speaking seemed to take all of her effort.
“Is there anything I can do for you? Anything?”
“No. At a time like this we can only go so far with our friends.”
Leonie held onto the woman’s hand, and Agnes wanted to know what was happening in her life. Leonie did not tell her about leaving Belle Fleur. She spoke mostly of helping Dr. Sheffield in the clinic.
Sister Agnes listened, sometimes seeming to doze off. Leonie’s heart gave a little lurch each time, for she thought the woman might be dying that moment.
Suddenly Agnes seemed to gather strength. She turned her head, and her eyes seemed enormous in her shrunken face. She began to speak of her childhood. “I was in love once. You didn’t know that, did you?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“I was very much in love, but I couldn’t make up my mind whether God was calling me to be a nun or to be a wife and mother.” She lay very still, and finally she whispered, “I made a mistake. My calling was to be a wife and a mother, not a nun.”
“Oh, I can’t believe that, Sister Agnes! You’ve served God so faithfully.”
“I’ve tried to.” Agnes seemed to struggle for breath, then whispered, “God uses people who make mistakes. Now I’ll never know what could have happened if I’d married Joel.”
“God will honor you, for you served Him faithfully.”
Sister Agnes had no strength in her hand, but she tried to squeeze Leonie’s. “Don’t make the mistake I made, Leonie.”
That was the last word she spoke to Leonie. Then she drifted off into what seemed to be a coma. Leonie was alarmed, and she called Sister Margaret to the bedside. “She does this. The doctor says she can’t last more than a few days, if that long.”
Leonie stayed at the convent for the rest of the day. Sister Agnes did not awaken again. When Leonie decided to leave, she stopped at the mother superior’s office. The two women were grieved, and Leonie said, “I didn’t show Sister Agnes the love that I should have.”
“She was a very strict woman and didn’t make friends easily, but the Lord Jesus is her friend, and she’ll be with Him soon.”
Leonie hesitated, then decided to tell the mother superior her entire story. The older nun listened without a word. Finally, when Leonie had finished, she said, “You mustn’t try to defend yourself, and you mustn’t grow bitter. Those are the two worst things you could do. God knows all of this, my child, and His hand is on you.”
Leonie listened as the mother superior spoke for some time, and finally she said, “I’ll come back and see Sister Agnes every day.”
“That won’t be many days, for she’s on her way to the other world.”
Sister Agnes died two days later, and Leonie attended the funeral. It was a grievous time for her, and she was quiet for several days. Somehow the death of Sister Agnes had touched her in a way that she had not anticipated. She could not figure out why it so affected her. She kept thinking back over the words, “Don’t make the mistake I made.”
One night Leonie Dousett sat trying to pray, and finally she fell on her knees beside her bed and said, “I don’t want to make a mistake in my life, Lord. You know I love You, but I can go wrong. So I’m asking You for wisdom.”
She prayed for a long time, and she thought of the intimate prayers of certain individuals she had met. They had seemed to have a closer relationship with Jesus than she had.
Finally she began to pray in desperation. “Lord Jesus, I want to know You better than I know anyone else. I want to love You more than anyone on this earth, so I ask You to come into my heart in a new and fresh way. Give me Your Spirit that I may walk free from bitterness and free from anger, filled with love as You were filled with love.”
For hours Leonie struggled in prayer, but she was not conscious of the passage of time. She was locked in a struggle with God, and once she thought, This is like Jacob struggling with God all night.
Finally, near midnight, she suddenly relaxed, and she felt something change within her. She did not know what it was, but she knew that somehow God was in it. She cried out softly, “Lord Jesus, I give You my life. Whatever You want me to do, I will do. I only ask that You be with me.”
Joy suddenly flooded her heart, and she began to weep. As she wept, she managed to say, “I’ll serve You, God, any way that You choose.”
Finally the dawn came, and Leonie Dousett got up. She knew somehow that never again would she be the same.
PART FOUR
• MARCH–JULY 1834 •
Ransom
Chapter nineteen
“Oh, it’s you, Leonie! Come right in.”
Leonie smiled at Susan Barnes’s greeting. The woman had always been fond of her, and now she grinned broadly as she reached out and drew Le
onie into the interior of the small house. She gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek then exclaimed, “Where have you been? We’ve missed you so much!”
“I’ve been away for a time, but I’m back now.” Leonie had time to say no more before the four Barnes children came flowing in, two from a back room and the others from outside. They pulled at Leonie, all vying for her attention, and finally Susan cried, “Now, you children leave the poor woman alone! You’re going to have to be quiet.”
“It’s all right, Susan. I’m so glad to see all of you.” She spoke to them, each one in turn. When she had greeted them all, Susan said firmly, “Now, you come and sit yourself down right here. I made a new prune cake just this morning. I had a feeling we’d have visitors. While you eat it, you can tell us all you’ve been doing.”
For the next twenty minutes Leonie alternated between small bites of cake and answering the questions that the children fired at her. They were naturally interested in what she had been doing, and finally she laughed and said, “You are all far too curious.”
At that moment the outer door opened, and William Barnes entered. He was wearing his working clothes, his face was sunburned, and he looked healthy and strong. “Who is this come to the Barnes house?” he cried and went at once to shake hands with Leonie, who rose to greet him. “It’s about time you made your way back to our humble abode,” he said.
“I’m so glad to see you, Sir. You look fine.”
“The good Lord’s given me good strength and health. It’s another miracle. Now let me sit myself down and eat some of that cake my dear wife has made, and you can tell me all you’ve been doing.”
Nothing would do but that Leonie would have to go over her activities again. She was discreet about the trouble she had undergone and did not mention the circumstances that had caused her to leave the Augustine estate. Finally she said, “So I’ve come back now, and I’m living at the clinic and helping Dr. Sheffield.”
“Oh, you’re a nurse! How wonderful!” Susan exclaimed.
“Oh, I’m not really a nurse. I don’t have that kind of training. I just help as I can.”
“That man is a saint,” William Barnes said, thumping the table with the flat of his hard hand. “Only God above knows the good he’s done for the poor people in this section. He’s an angel. I wouldn’t be surprised to see wings sprout from his shoulders one day.”
Leonie laughed. “He’s not an angel, Sir, I’m afraid. But he is a good man.”
“In any case I revere the man, I truly do,” William Barnes said, winking at her.
For the next twenty minutes Leonie enjoyed her visit with the family, and finally she rose saying, “I really must go.”
“No. Stay and tell us stories!” Annie begged.
“Now don’t pester the lady,” William said gently. “She has work to do.”
“I’ll come back another time, Annie, and tell you stories.”
Leonie had to promise faithfully. Before she left, she knew she had to say something about the new walk she had with God. “Mr. Barnes and Susan, I need to tell you something,” she said. “I learned so much about trusting in God from watching you two. When things were bad you never doubted, and God has been speaking to me lately. I don’t know what to call it—a second conversion or what—but I have learned to trust in the Lord for everything.”
“Well, bless the Lord!” William Barnes exclaimed loudly. “Glory be to God and the Lamb forever! I rejoice with you, Leonie.”
“I’m so happy for you,” Susan said, and tears were in her eyes. “You have always been so good to us, and it’s good to know that you’re walking closer to God now.”
Leonie left the house, and on her way back to the clinic, she thought of how those poor people had such happiness and joy while there was such unhappiness in those who had much more materially. She thought of this all the way home, and going to her room, she sat down in a straight-backed chair, and Louis jumped up into her lap. “Well, what have you been doing, Louis?”
“Yow!”
“You always say that. What does it mean? And by the way, I don’t want you bringing me any more presents, no more mice or birds. You hear me?”
“Yow!”
Leonie laughed and squeezed the cat and stroked his silky fur, and for a time she sat thinking about where her life had come in such a short time. She had thought she would stay permanently with her grandmother, but somehow that had not happened. She could not understand it at all, and she reached over and picked up the Bible. Louis was protesting, but she put him on the floor.
She opened it up to the book of Romans and searched for the verse that had been coming back to her again and again. It was in the eighth chapter of Romans, the twenty-eighth verse: “All things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.” She closed the Bible and put her hands on the cover. Her head was bowed, and she did what she had been doing of late: simply meditating on the Word of God. No one had taught her, but she had read in the First Psalm that those who did mediate were blessed. She thought about the verse and how strange it was. How can it be good when bad things happen? And yet God says that it is. That all things are working together for good. I don’t understand it, but I believe it.
For a long time she sat thinking about what God was doing in her life, and more than once she thought of what a tremendous effect Ransom Sheffield had had on her. She had not given much thought to young men or to marriage while a student at the convent, but lately she had wondered about such things. What would she do with the rest of her life? She knew deep within her heart that she wanted a husband and children, a home based on love between a man and a woman. But which man?
Finally she knelt down and began to pray. Her prayers until recently had been rote, going over a rosary and repeating the same prayers without giving them much thought. Now, however, when she talked to God, she simply spoke to Him as a woman talked to her friend. She poured her heart out to God, and when she finally rose, she felt a warmth and a sense of having met with the Lord.
Leaving the room, she went at once to the main part of the clinic where a large number of patients were waiting. Many of them she knew and spoke to, stopping to chat for a moment. When she went into the main examining room, Dr. Sheffield was treating an older man. He was a small man, shrunken, but his eyes were an amazing bright blue, electric and alert. They were almost hidden in their sockets, and his face was lined and tanned a deep mahogany. “This is Mr. Griffith, nurse,” Dr. Sheffield said cheerfully. “He’s having a little trouble with his rheumatism, so we’re going to give him something to make it better.”
The patient smiled and bobbed his head. He had an odd habit of keeping his head turned sideways and squinting upward. “How you be, Miss?”
“Very well, thank you, Mr. Griffith. I hope this treatment will help you.”
“Not much can help rheumatism. Too many nights at sea, wearing wet clothes.”
“You were a sailor, sir?”
“All my days, from the time I was five years old. I went out with my dad, I did. Still miss the sea, I do.” He winked and took the bottle that Dr. Sheffield gave to him. “What be this, Doctor?”
“Something that’ll make the pain a little bit more bearable.”
“Thank ye, Doctor.” The old man held it and looked at it carefully. “I’m short of money right now, but I’ll have some next week from my son.”
“Don’t you worry about it, Mr. Griffith. Come back if you have any more trouble.”
“That I will. That I will. Good-bye, Missy. Good-bye, Doctor.”
“Good-bye, Mr. Griffith,” Leonie said. After he left she said, “He’s very lively for his age, isn’t he?”
“Yes. I wish I could do more, but laudanum is about the only thing we have that’ll help, and it’s temporary. Maybe someday one of the real doctors will discover a cure for rheumatism.”
Leonie looked puzzled. “What do you mean, ‘real doctors’?”
�
�Oh, I mean those that find the causes of disease. The rest of us struggle along, giving laudanum and half a dozen other remedies, and that’s about all we can do.”
“I won’t have you talk about yourself like that, Ransom Sheffield!” Leonie stared at him, her face flushed. “You help these people every day, and I don’t want to hear you put yourself down again!”
“Whoa, don’t shoot!” Ransom laughed and held up his hands in mock defense. “Maybe I’m more wonderful than I think.”
“You may make fun, but that old man didn’t have anybody. He’s probably pretty much alone in the world, but now he knows there’s one man he can come to.”
“You really think our work is that good?”
“Of course I do!”
“Well,” Ransom said slowly and thoughtfully, “I’m glad to hear you say that. It’s always what I wanted, to be a help to people, and I’ve asked God to put me in that position.”
“He’s answered your prayer.”
Suddenly the door opened, and Lolean came in. She was wearing a white dress much like a uniform. When her eyes went to Leonie, there was a hardness there. “Shall I show the next patient in, Doctor?”
“In a minute. First I’ve got a surprise for you two.”
“A surprise?” Lolean asked. Leonie could see the devotion in her eyes. She could not hide her love for the doctor any more than she could hide her dislike for Leonie. “What kind of a surprise?”
“We’ve been working hard, and I think we deserve a reward,” Sheffield said. “Tonight we’re going out to Antoine’s for dinner.”
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