“I need to get back to Christ the Way.” Josh brushed away the lone tear Ellie couldn’t hold back. “It’s only a few weeks until Christmas.” He kissed her ring finger. “I’ll have something special for you when you come home.”
“All I want is you.”
Josh’s eyes twinkled. “You already have that!” A quick kiss, and he was gone.
The following morning, Ellie sat by her window and stared out into rain mixed with sleet. Tree branches bent and shivered in the wind. Ellie already missed Josh. Homesickness for the Diamond S and the promontory where she’d spent so many happy hours overwhelmed her. She longed for rolling rangeland and canyons instead of tall buildings and cobblestone streets. For clear, crisp mornings untouched by fog.
Ellie wrapped herself into a colorful shawl Solita had made. The red, white, and emerald green reminded Ellie of Christmas. She closed her eyes and thought of last year’s program at Christ the Way. Everyone had brought gifts to the altar. Not gold, frankincense, or myrrh, but food, clothing, treasured toys, and money—some from those who had little to spare—for a family who had lost their home and possessions to fire.
Ellie hadn’t written even one song since she’d come to San Francisco. Now words tumbled into her mind. She snatched writing materials and let them pour out:
Tell me, kind shepherds, when you came to the manger,
What gifts did you bring to the new little stranger
Who quietly lay asleep on the hay?
We had no fine gifts on that glorious night
When the fields were ablaze with a heavenly light.
So our voices we raised in worship and praise.
Tell me, oh Wise Men who came from afar,
What did you bring when you followed the Star,
And found Him that day in the house where He lay?
Gold, frankincense, myrrh
From far distant lands.
We bowed down in wonder and kissed His small hands.
Tell me, good people, what gifts do you bring,
To the Savior who loves us; the King of all kings?
Will you open your hearts and invite Him to stay—
Or, like the innkeeper, turn Him away?
Or, like the innkeeper, turn Him away?
The perfect title came to mind: “Ballad for a King.” Ellie bowed her head. “Lord, You’ve given me the gift of song. I’m trying to use it for You, but I want to do something more to honor Your Son. I just don’t know what.”
“Forgive.”
The word pierced Ellie’s soul. She let tears flow while she took a fresh sheet of paper and wrote: I forgive you, Pa. Ellie. She placed it in an envelope that she sealed and addressed. Then she tucked her poem inside her dress to nestle above her heart and ran downstairs.
Warmed by the poem’s presence, Ellie buried her letter among the others to be posted. Her heart pumped with joy. “Lord, I haven’t felt this clean since I was baptized in the stream on the Diamond S. Pa probably won’t reply, but I’m free.” She danced upstairs and into her room.
Mrs. Stanhope sat by the window. Her hands nervously pleated and smoothed a fold of her costly skirt. “Ellie, I have to tell you something.”
Dread shot through Ellie. “Is Josh hurt?”
“No, it’s something else. Would it break your heart to spend Christmas here?”
Ellie’s knees gave way. She dropped to the bed. “Why?”
“Governor Markham has asked for a private musicale at our home. It’s your chance of a lifetime.” Mrs. Stanhope sighed. “Unfortunately, the governor and his wife are only free on Christmas Eve.”
Ellie’s dreams for the holidays fled. How could she say no when Mrs. Stan-hope had done so much for her? Ellie had grown to love Joshua’s mother since being welcomed to the family. She’d also seen the older woman slowly become a more understanding person.
“You don’t have to stay.” Josh’s mother rose and patted Ellie’s hand. “Pray about it and do what you feel is right. We won’t hold it against you if you go home as planned.” She frowned. “I’ve known Henry Markham for years and have already told him you might not be available. He should have picked a better time.” She marched out.
Ellie stared after her. The unexpected advice to pray and willingness to leave the decision in Ellie’s hands were more effective than pleading or reminders of duty. “Lord, how will everyone at home feel, especially Joshua?” Her throat constricted. “Besides, if I stay here, I’ll be so disappointed I won’t be able to sing.”
She stood and started for the door, intending to tell Mrs. Stanhope she couldn’t give up her plans. Yet a feeling that more than Governor Markham’s whim hung on her decision stopped her. The tumult in her soul gradually stilled. She bowed her head and whispered through her unhappiness, “I’ll stay.”
“Perhaps you can go home for New Year’s,” Mr. Stanhope said when Ellie announced her decision, but Edward shook his head.
“Sorry, Ellie.” He looked genuinely regretful. “The only time we could reserve the Palace Hotel is on New Year’s Day. I know you sing for more than money, but this performance will bring in an incredible sum. It will also be your largest audience.”
Ellie could barely hide her distress. She couldn’t afford to turn down such an opportunity. She’d had to dip into her slow-growing savings too many times. She also thought about the spectators. The rich as well as those at the Rescue Mission needed to hear the gospel. Perhaps one among them would be touched by her singing. “All right, but after that, I need to go home.”
“Speaking of going, we need to go practice,” Edward said. “How about right now?”
“Of course.”
The afternoon sped by. Mrs. Stanhope’s news and Ellie’s turmoil had driven away all thought of her poem until she went up to change for dinner. She removed her dress and shook it. No page fell to the rug. Ellie searched her room and retraced her steps from earlier that day without success. “A servant must have found and disposed of it,” she decided. “It’s foolish to inquire about a scribbled piece of paper. I can write it again.” The hustle and bustle of the upcoming holidays, however, pushed it from her mind. So much to do. So many places to go.
By Christmas Eve, all Ellie wanted was to lie on her bed, look out into the star-filled sky, and think of the Christmas Star that shone close to two thousand years earlier. Instead, she donned a new yellow silk gown and filled the drawing room with music. Governor Markham, his wife, and the other guests called her back for encore after encore.
Free at last, Ellie stole away from the adoring crowd and escaped to her bedroom. The contrast between the merriment and the first Christmas saddened her. “Father, does anyone here except me think of the humble stable where Your Son was born?” She pressed her face to the window, glad for its cool touch. “Joshua is right. I’ve been dazzled by the glitter. Jesus said, ‘Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.’ Well, my heart and treasure are in Madera. Lord, how long must I stay here?” Discouraged and lonely, she cried herself to sleep.
New Year’s came and went. Ellie surpassed herself at the Palace Hotel concert, but once the excitement of performing in such a splendid place died, she grew restless. God showed no sign of delivering her. “I’ll stay because I feel it’s Your will,” she prayed, “but it would be easier if I knew why.” Heart heavy with unshed tears, even the familiar admonition, “Trust Me,” failed to bring comfort.
A few days later, Mrs. Stanhope summoned Ellie to the library. Ellie had never seen her in such a state. “Ellie, we have wronged you.”
“It’s my fault.” Edward held out a printed piece of sheet music that read: “Ballad for a King,” by Ellianna Sterling. Music by Ludwig Karl and Edward Stanhope.
Ellie blinked. “What—how…?”
Edward paced the floor. “I found your poem on the staircase and showed it to a composer friend. Ludwig said it had worth. We set it to music.”
Ellie clapped her hands. “That’s wonderful!” She turned her a
ttention to Letitia. “But why did you say you’ve wronged me?”
Tears spilled down the older woman’s face. She shook her head and didn’t reply.
Edward stopped pacing. “Mother was thrilled when I told her. She wanted to rush to you with the news. So did I—until I realized what it meant. Ludwig predicts it will bring you large royalties and open the door for you to write other songs.”
Ellie felt she stood at the edge of a mystery. “I still don’t understand.”
“You’ve been good for all of us, especially me.” Edward’s eyes glistened. “Ludwig wants me to continue as his collaborator.”
“What exciting news,” Ellie cried, but Edward shuffled his feet and looked uncomfortable.
“It’s only part of the story. This is the only printed copy of your song. I made Ludwig promise to keep it secret for a time. I also selfishly convinced Mother that we needed to keep you here as long as we could—even though Josh had slipped and mentioned your dream of helping your brother. Don’t you see, Ellie? This opens the way for you to go home. You can write anywhere.”
Ellie’s brain whirled. “Why are you telling me this now?”
He looked ashamed. “You’ll have to sign a contract for the song to be published. Anyway, Mother insisted you be told. She will tell you why.”
Mrs. Stanhope dabbed at her eyes and sent Ellie a pleading look. “I wanted to believe Edward was right. I hoped your being here might bring Joshua home, even though deep in my heart I knew it wouldn’t happen. Remember the night at the Rescue Mission when you sang ‘The Ninety and Nine’?”
Ellie thought of Josh’s mother brushing away tears. “Yes.”
Mrs. Stanhope sniffled. “I can’t explain it, but the story of Jesus leaving the flock and going to help the lost sheep reminded me of Joshua when he said he was going to Madera.”
Ellie couldn’t have been more shocked if the roof had opened and a meteorite had hurled into the quiet library. Her heart hammered with understanding. God had led her to San Francisco for unknown reasons, but none as important as this.
Mrs. Stanhope continued. “After Edward showed me ‘Ballad for a King,’ I made a copy of it. I didn’t tell him, but I read it again and again, especially the last stanza:
“Tell me, good people, what gifts do you bring,
To the Savior who loves us; the King of all kings?
Will you open your hearts and invite Him to stay—
Or, like the innkeeper, turn Him away?
Or, like the innkeeper, turn Him away?”
“I’ve always tried to do right and help others, but I’ve realized I’m just like the innkeeper.” Letitia raised her tear-stained face. “No more. This morning, I gave Jesus a gilt-edged invitation to live in my heart.”
Ellie felt torn between the desire to weep for joy and shout with laughter. How like Mrs. Stanhope to surrender her life to the Lord in such a manner! Ellie sprang from her chair, ran across the room, and knelt at the woman’s side. “I am so happy!” She clasped Letitia’s hands in her own. “This is the greatest gift you could give to God, me, and”—her lips trembled—“to Joshua.”
“He already knows. I sent a telegram an hour ago.” Mrs. Stanhope turned to Edward with a look of undeniable longing. “Now if only—”
Edward raised his hands in mock protest. “Don’t preach, Mother. One minister in the family is plenty.” But Ellie noticed an unaccustomed softness in his attitude. Her heart throbbed. Perhaps someday Edward would—
“Trust Me.”
The words rang in Ellie’s heart. Lord, my work here is finished. Although I’ve often been rebellious, I can say like the Apostle Paul, I have fought a good fight, finished my course, and kept the faith. Now I’m free to fly home to Madera—and Joshua.
Valentine’s Day 1893
Sunlight poured through the windows of Christ the Way Church. It bathed the couple standing before the altar in radiance rivaled by Preacher Josh’s face when he glanced down at Ellie. Her spirit rushed out to him. What had she ever done to deserve such happiness?
“With this ring I thee wed.”
Joshua’s vow touched Ellie’s soul. She looked into his shining gray eyes, then at the ring he placed on her waiting finger. Her heart soared. It had been a long, hard flight before the Sierra Songbird found priceless treasure: a golden circle without beginning or end…just like her heavenly Father’s love.
California Romance Page 46
