The Silver Star

by Gilbert, Morris

  “What is it? Is it your mother? Tell me, Dorothy.”

  There was no escaping the horrible truth of it all. Dorothy knew that he had to know. Her heart was breaking at the thought of what her betrayal would do to him. If ever there was hope to go on, she knew she had to be the one to confess her terrible sin to him. She pushed herself away from him and whispered, “Andrew, I’ve got to tell you something—and I can’t bear to think of it.”

  Andrew took her hand and held it. “What is it, Dorothy? Whatever it is, it’ll be all right. I’ll stand by you. Tell me what is bothering you.” There was an urgency in his voice, and he reached out and dried another tear from her face with the handkerchief.

  This last gesture almost broke Dorothy. This was the old Andrew she remembered. Full of compassion, full of love, but now it seemed all empty and vain. It was too late.

  She straightened herself up, and her voice hardened as she said, “I’ve . . . I’ve been having an affair with a man.” She saw shock leap into his eyes, and his head flew back as if he had been struck. Disbelief clouded his face, and then she saw anger twist his lips. Knowing she had to face it fully, she went on. “I know this will destroy everything you ever felt for me, and I’m sorry to hurt you. Sorry to hurt the children. I have no excuse for my sin before you or God.”

  “Who is the man?” Andrew demanded, his eyelids coming down and half shading his eyes. His mouth grew tense, and he removed his hand from her arm and sat there, his back stiffly erect.

  “Nolan Cole,” Dorothy said flatly.

  A wild and tortured look of anger and fear crept across Andrew’s face. Dorothy had never seen him look like this. He stared at her coldly as if she were a stranger.

  “How long has it been going on?” he asked, his voice stark and bare. He listened as she spoke in a broken fashion, and finally he said, “Why did you do it, Dorothy?”

  Dorothy Winslow could not answer. She could not tell him of her loneliness and how rejected she felt by him. It was too late for that now. There was no excuse for the sin she had fallen prey to. She mutely shook her head and was aware that he was standing on his feet over her. She heard his voice then, although she dared not look up.

  “All right. Cole will resign. He’ll have to go!”

  Dorothy could not refrain then from looking up. Her eyes were swollen, and tears blurred the sight of Andrew’s face, but she saw how pale he was. “What about us, Andrew?” she whispered.

  “We’ll have to continue to the world, to the church, as if things were the same—but it’s all over between us, Dorothy.”

  His words rang like a death knell to Dorothy Winslow. As he turned and walked away, never in her life had she felt so alone as she sat on the couch listening to the monotonous ticking of the clock out in the hall.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Ill Tidings

  Dr. Maurice Gunn was a busy man, as most physicians were. He began his day early and ended it as soon as possible so he could go home and be with his family. But emergency calls often pulled him away from the two-story frame house that he and his wife had designed and built on the beach. Gunn was a mountain man from the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia, where he was born and spent his youth. He had done his college work at the University of Virginia and then had moved to Pennsylvania to complete medical school. His move to Los Angeles had been at the urging of his wife, Laura Jones, who had grown up in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. Ever since she was a child, she had been enchanted by the charm of the ocean and never forgot it. When the opportunity had come to move to California, especially to live on the beach in Los Angeles, Laura had persuaded Maurice that the life there would be better for them and for their three young children. Maurice had long since grown weary of the cold winters in Pennsylvania and required little persuasion. The two of them had made the move and never regretted it.

  Gunn had looked forward to spending a quiet evening at home, but he was pulled away from his dinner table by an emergency appendectomy. The operation had proved difficult, and he decided to stay to observe his patient for a while. Finally pulling off his operating mask and clothing, he dressed and left the hospital and headed for home. Weariness hit him as he drove along, as it usually did after a long day, and he thought eagerly of the late snack that his wife, Laura, would have prepared for him. With equal longing, he looked forward to lying in bed, where he could listen to the surf for a time, then drift off to sleep.

  As he passed the new church, his mind suddenly was pulled away from thoughts of his own comfort to the problems of his pastor and the pastor’s wife. He glanced at the new edifice and thought, It’s a beautiful building, but it cost all of us too much—especially Andrew. Even as the thought flickered through his mind, he glanced up and saw a single light burning on the second floor. Impulsively, Maurice touched the brake of the Reo he was driving and pulled into the parking lot. He shut the engine off and sat there for a moment thinking about the difficult situation.

  Three weeks had passed since he and Parsley had encountered Dorothy and Nolan at Cole’s house on the beach. It had been a difficult time for all of them. Gunn had practically threatened Harold Parsley physically. Parsley was a man given to gossip, which was exactly what the church did not need at this time. Gunn was a deeply spiritual man who would not flinch at the grave responsibility he faced, but he wanted to proceed with discretion and scriptural wisdom in dealing with the offending parties.

  He had taken Parsley home that night and sat out in the car with him for over an hour, stressing the fact that the situation, as terrible as it was, would only be made worse if it became public. “We’ll have to handle this, just you and me, Harold,” Gunn had said. “Since only the two of us know about it, if it gets out, I’ll know exactly who it is that spilled the beans. Andrew Winslow is a good man, though mistaken, I think, in some things. And despite what you think, Dorothy Winslow is a good woman who got caught in a trap that many have fallen into. Do not misunderstand me. It is a grievous sin, but let us not forget it’s only by God’s grace that you and I haven’t had the same sort of problems.” He had fixed his eyes on Parsley and said, “Harold, you and I will handle this. We’ll talk to Andrew, and we’ll talk to Nolan Cole. Nolan will have to leave. What Brother Winslow will do, I can’t say, but it would ruin his ministry now, and that would be a tragedy for the kingdom of God. We’ve got to work together and by God’s mercy somehow redeem them all.”

  As Gunn got out of the car slowly, he remembered how Parsley had vowed to keep the matter in confidence. Since then, the two of them had endured two sessions that were bitter to think of. As Gunn looked up at the window of Andrew’s office, he shook at the memory of Andrew’s face when they had met with him and revealed their knowledge of the guilty affair. The other was with Nolan Cole, and to Gunn this was almost as painful. Nolan, too, was a man who had fallen into the trap that had ensnared men since the beginning of time. They had encountered no problem with Nolan when they confronted him. He had informed them at once that he was resigning and leaving town in two weeks. Gunn had gone back alone and spent several hours with Nolan and encouraged him to take some time off and spend it seeking God’s forgiveness and direction. And before Nolan had left, the doctor had gained considerable hope that Nolan would find peace and forgiveness. Though the whole affair would surely take its toll on Nolan, Gunn knew that the young man had great ability and deep down still wanted to serve God.

  The brief winter season had brought cooler temperatures to Los Angeles, and the breeze that now blew in off the sea was still brisk but warmer than it had been the last few weeks. Taking in a deep breath as he entered the new church and started up the stairs, Dr. Gunn prayed a brief prayer for wisdom. Reaching the door with the sign “Pastor” on the outside, he knocked, and after a brief pause, he heard Winslow’s voice.

  “Come in!”

  Gunn stepped inside and found Winslow sitting behind his desk. “You’re working late, Andrew.”

  “I’m not working. Just sitting here.”


  Andrew’s face was drawn, and he had lost weight in the past three weeks. His cheeks seemed to be hollow and more drawn in, and dark circles under his eyes told of the agony he was silently suffering. The physician’s quick eye took these signs in, but he said cheerfully, “I’ve been working late, too. Mrs. Olsen’s oldest son had a bad case of appendicitis.” He sat in the chair across from Andrew and stretched his arms upward and flexed his fingers. “It was a close thing, Andrew. For a time, I thought we were going to lose him.”

  Andrew sat up straighter, saying, “I’ll have to get over there right away. Nobody called me.”

  “I think it’d be better if you wait until tomorrow. Ted’s asleep now, and I’ve given Mrs. Olsen something to help her sleep, too. You might have Dorothy go by and spend some time with her. Mrs. Olsen is a mighty fine woman. She’s had a hard time raising those four children of hers with no husband.”

  “Yes. She is. I’ll speak to Dorothy, Maurice.”

  Gunn let his eyes run over the backs of the leather books that lined the walls of the large study and said nothing for a while. The awkward silence dragged on, and finally he leaned forward and said, “I got a call from Nolan yesterday. He’s down in Alabama. That’s where his home is. Just outside of Montgomery. I think he’s going to be all right.”

  “He’s a hypocrite and has no business in the ministry!” Andrew said bitterly.

  Gunn was not too shocked by the harshness of Andrew Winslow’s voice. In the last few weeks, he had already heard similar remarks. And he had spent hours praying and asking God for wisdom to help his pastor through this difficult time. In a voice filled with gentleness and concern, Gunn said, “Andrew, I know this has been the hardest thing you’ve ever had to face. I’m truly sorry. It’s a bitter thing that Nolan failed all of us. He’s hurting pretty badly himself, Andrew. I could tell that God has convicted him deeply, and He wants to work in him and restore him.”

  Andy got up from the leather chair and began to pace the floor, his fists clenched tightly and his brow furrowed. He stopped to look out the window, but the darkness outside only reflected the stygian darkness of his soul. Turning, he came and slumped back down in his chair and shook his head. “What could be in his heart to make him do it?” he murmured, shaking his head.

  Gunn hesitated for a moment, then looked directly at Andrew and said, “The same thing that’s in my heart—and your heart. You know your Bible as well as any man. You’ve even preached on why people sin, from a verse in Jeremiah, ‘The heart is desperately wicked. Who can know it?’ In the time you’ve been here, you’ve seen Nolan’s dedication to the ministry. I don’t believe Nolan set out to do this terrible thing any more than Dorothy did. I don’t think any of us ever wake up one morning and say, ‘I think I’ll rob a bank today. . . .’ And yet some Christians have fallen into bad company and done just that. Sin doesn’t come to us like this, does it? Why, you preached a sermon on it three months ago. How that sin often comes first as a thought, or maybe one tempting look as it did to David when he looked down and saw Bathsheba bathing on the palace roof. Do you suppose the king of Israel said, ‘I’m going to commit adultery with that woman, and if her husband gives me any trouble, I’ll have him killed’?”

  Shifting in his chair, Andrew stroked his head slowly. “Well, of course not. But still, they could’ve broken off before they actually fell into an affair.”

  Gunn leaned forward, his eyes sharp and intent. He said quietly, “You know better than that, Andrew. You’ve been a preacher long enough to have encountered almost every kind of problem human beings can have. You know that even Christians who love God with all their hearts fall into sin. Maybe not this particular sin, but we are in a battle against the world, the flesh, and the devil. That’s what the Bible identifies as our enemies. I’m humbled to have to admit it, but I’ve had my own trouble with the flesh. No one is beyond temptation.” He hesitated for a moment, then added, “Two times in my life, I came that close”—he held up his fingers measuring off a small portion of an inch—“to falling into exactly the same kind of trap. A doctor runs into these things, and I would guess that preachers do, too. I still remember the times I found myself alone with a patient . . . an attractive woman who was lonely and confused. It’s easy enough for a man to be brought into the wrong relationship.”

  Gunn continued to speak for some time, and he got up and said, “Let’s pray about it, Andrew.” He bowed his head instantly without waiting and prayed for Andrew. Then he prayed for Nolan and for Dorothy, and ended by praying that he might overcome temptation in his own life. He picked up his hat and started for the door, but then a thought came to him and he said, “Good night, Andrew. If you ever want to talk, you’ve got my number.”

  Getting up from his desk, Andrew walked over and put out his hand. The visit by the physician had disturbed him somehow, but he said, “Thanks for coming, Maurice. It’s been a help.”

  Once again Maurice Gunn hesitated. He knew it was possible to go too far with counseling, and finally he said briefly, “I’m worried about Dorothy. Laura saw her yesterday, and she noticed she had lost weight. She said Dorothy seemed very nervous. A thing like this can destroy a woman, especially a sensitive woman like your wife. Be very careful, Andrew. She needs you more than she ever has in her life. In a way, I think whether she gets through this and goes on lies in your hands.” He started to say something more, but wisdom told him that he could not push it any further. He saw a stubborn light in Andrew’s piercing blue eyes. “Well, I’ll see you in church.”

  ****

  When the door shut, Andrew turned and walked back to his desk. Sitting down, he put his head between his hands and thought about what Gunn had said. The last few weeks had been the most difficult and despairing time of his whole life. Since he had told Dorothy they had to keep up a front, an emptiness filled his heart and a bitterness robbed him of sleep every night. He carried out his duties in a perfunctory manner, preaching mechanically, saying the right things in the right tone of voice. As usual some church members had filed by after each service and congratulated him on his sermon. Each time he shook their hand, he flinched inwardly with a touch of cynicism, knowing that his congregation had not gotten his best. He had comforted himself with the thought: Well, it’s the preaching of the message that’s important, not the messenger. God’s had some pretty sorry messengers in His day. He’s used some pretty crooked sticks, and I guess I’m one of them.

  Finally he bowed his head and prayed for a long time—or tried to. The heavens seemed like brass, and he could not get through to God. Every time he thought he almost made a breakthrough, he would think of Dorothy, and the hardness that had gripped his heart would stop him. After an hour he rose in despair, got his hat, and went home. When he arrived the children were in bed, and Dorothy was in her room. He walked down the hall and glanced toward her door. More than once these last few weeks he had passed by and thought he heard the sound of weeping, but she had kept herself secluded as much as circumstances permitted. He hesitated, and the impulse came to knock on her door, but then he thought, It’s her responsibility to come to me. I’m the one who’s been hurt and betrayed. She’s the one who had the affair—not me! Bound by pride and an unforgiving spirit, Andrew turned and went to the guest room, undressed, lay down, and spent the night tossing and turning in a sleepless, bitter state of mind.

  ****

  Priscilla had just sat down to breakfast when a knock sounded on her door. When she rose and went and opened it, she was surprised to see Dorothy Winslow standing there. “Why, Dorothy,” she said. “How nice to see you. You’re just in time for breakfast.”

  “No. I couldn’t eat anything, Priscilla—but I do need to talk to you.”

  “Why, of course. Please come in and at least have a cup of coffee.” She was somewhat shocked by Dorothy’s appearance. She had not seen her friend in two weeks. Priscilla had noticed that Dorothy had not been at church the previous Sunday and had assumed that one of th
e children was sick. Now she suspected it might have been Dorothy herself. Her color was bad, and there was a dullness to her eyes that bespoke some sort of illness. “Let me just eat this egg and toast. How do you like your coffee?”

  “Sugar and cream, please,” Dorothy said, sitting down across from Priscilla.

  Priscilla served Dorothy her coffee and began to eat. She was somewhat puzzled, for although Dorothy had visited her several times, there was something troubling about her appearance today. Dorothy Winslow had always been a calm person, but now she displayed a nervousness in her manner. She could not keep her hands still, and her shoulders twitched occasionally in a strange fashion. Priscilla watched as Dorothy drank the coffee without even seeming to taste it. When Dorothy was finished, Priscilla said, “Come on over to the divan. We can get more comfortable there.” When the two women had seated themselves, Priscilla pulled her legs up under her and put her arm on the back of the couch. “What is it, Dorothy? You seem troubled. Aren’t you feeling well?”

  Dorothy had slept very little the previous night, and her voice had no life in it as she spoke. “Priscilla, I’ve got to talk to someone. I’ve . . . I’ve . . . done something that is about to drive me crazy. I can’t go on like this—!”

  “Why, Dorothy!” Priscilla sat up straight and leaned over to take Dorothy’s hand with both of hers. It was cold and trembling. “What in the world is it?”

  Dorothy Winslow bit her lip. She had steeled herself for this moment. Her guilt had almost destroyed her, and now her lips trembled as she said, “You won’t understand this, Priscilla, and I’m . . . I’m ashamed to admit it.” She hesitated and then could not go on. Tears filled her eyes, and she suddenly lowered her face and began to weep.