by Amber Miller
Her heartbeat thudded in her chest. What was he going to ask? They’d been reacquainted for less than two weeks. Surely he wouldn’t—
“Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to town next week to attend a special service? A traveling preacher whose words have sparked a fire among colonists from here to Boston will speak. If you are in agreement, I would like to escort you.”
Preacher? Oh, bother! That meant another sermon and more talk of God. Yet despite her previous aversion to spiritual matters, part of her warmed to the idea. Perhaps Gustaf’s constant lectures were getting through, after all.
“I would like to give the matter some thought. I will provide an answer when you arrive to escort me to Sunday services.”
Cedric finished the last of his tea. “I shall eagerly await your reply.” He stood and retrieved his hat. “Now I shall bid you good evening and take my leave.”
She walked with him to his buggy and waited as he climbed onto the seat and took the reins.
“I count the days until Sunday arrives.” After touching two fingers to the edge of his hat, he drove off.
Such gentlemanly conduct and strict adherence to social graces. Yet for all his appeal, Cedric didn’t stir her heart. Not like—
The loud clatter of wood pieces tumbling against each other interrupted Raelene’s musings. She peered around the corner of the cottage to find Gustaf loading his arms with another stack of wood as he transferred it from the wheelbarrow to the pile. Never far from her in thought or proximity, Gustaf once again had managed to invade and confuse her mind.
However, Gustaf had kept his distance since Cedric had entered her life. Even on the days when she was alone on the farm, he no longer joined her for the noon meal or suggested they continue with their reading. Conversation remained at a minimum, though he always made sure she knew he was close by should she need him.
And while she hadn’t needed him, she had missed his company.
Grabbing the water pail, she headed toward him. As she approached, Gustaf paused with several logs stacked against his chest. Raelene couldn’t help but admire the way the fabric of his shirt stretched across his broad shoulders and taut muscles. His masculine scent mixed with the sweat of hard labor wafted her way, stirring her in a way that Cedric’s tonic and soap never did. But Mr. Milton suited her taste far more, didn’t he?
“Your outing today. You enjoyed it?”
Raelene blinked several times and focused on Gustaf’s question. “Yes, very much so. Mr. Milton and I walked along the river. He entertained me with stories of his time in England and about his family.”
Gustaf grabbed a few more logs, then tossed them on the pile like they were twigs. He didn’t appear winded from the exertion. “You are happy, then?”
He’d done it again. Caught her with her mind wandering. And with a question like the one he’d just asked, she needed to stay alert. Her future might depend on the answer. She clasped her hands in front of the pail and hugged it to her.
“Yes,” she replied with caution.
His expression remained impassive, but he clenched his jaw, and a vein protruded at the side of his neck. For a moment, he held her gaze; then he returned to his work, seemingly displeased.
But unlike his opinion of the other men who’d expressed interest in her, he condoned Cedric’s courtship. Why doesn’t he just speak his mind? she wondered in frustration. Then again, why didn’t she?
“I enjoy visiting with Mr. Milton. It is a refreshing change from the daily routine around the farm.” That was honest enough.
What appeared to be a flash of hurt crossed Gustaf’s face, but it disappeared so quickly that Raelene wasn’t sure she had seen it at all. Surely he didn’t think she meant that she enjoyed her day with Cedric more than the noon meals she and Gustaf had often shared. Those times formed a friendship that would forever be treasured. Feeling tongue-tied about her relationship with Gustaf, Raelene skipped to her present quandary.
“I wonder if I might ask your opinion.”
Gustaf rested one arm on the growing pile of chopped logs, affording her his full attention.
“Mr. Milton invited me to accompany him to town next week. A visiting preacher is arriving, and he wishes to escort me to the services.”
Surprise registered on Gustaf’s face. He regarded her for several moments. Raelene shifted from one foot to the other. If he didn’t say something soon, she would start rambling.
“You wish to hear this preacher?”
His voice and expression contained a blend of hope and interest. At least he should be pleased that his talk of God the past few months might come to some fruition.
Raelene stared into the pail she held, its emptiness mirroring the realities of her own life. Avoiding Gustaf’s intent gaze, she answered, “I realize it might come as a surprise, but I have heard of these meetings and read about them in the Gazette. Many are getting excited about these men who come speaking of revival and lighting fires that cannot be quenched. Mr. Milton seemed quite interested. If one of them is coming to New Castle, I do not want to miss the opportunity to hear him for myself.”
“It is good to hear and make your own opinion and not build it on what other people say.”
Raelene raised her head. “Then you think I should go?”
Gustaf stepped to the side of the woodpile. “You should go for you, not anyone else. You need an open mind. If your heart tells you to go, then go. Do not go to make someone else happy.”
He was right. If she went to please Cedric or Gustaf, she’d be going for the wrong reasons.
“Thank you, Gustaf,” she said softly. “You are a treasured friend. But will you also be in attendance?”
“Yes. I go with my family.” His stilted reply gave her pause. He looked as though he were going to say more.
When he remained silent, Raelene slackened her hold on the bucket and allowed it to swing at her side. “I shall see you there.”
“I. . .” He hesitated, as though weighing his words. “I pray you hear what you need.”
Dear Gustaf and his constant reference to a fix-it-all God! He hadn’t fixed her dilemmas. No one was going to explain her confusion about Gustaf and Cedric or move her heart to trust again. But Gustaf was sincere, and his prayers demonstrated his concern for her. She should be grateful, not prickling for an argument.
She fought down her annoyance, uncertain if its cause was Gustaf or God. “Thank you, Gustaf. Your prayers will be welcome.”
Raelene stepped around the wheelbarrow and felt Gustaf’s dumbstruck gaze follow her. Her heart smiled with more than satisfaction. She’d vowed to change her ways and to start with Gustaf. This moment—while small in the scheme of things—was a triumph, one that made Raelene like herself more than she had in a very long time.
❧
A large gathering had formed in the town hall the following Tuesday to welcome the preacher. The assembly decided to hold the meeting there because the church wouldn’t be large enough. After a perusal of her neighbors and of others she didn’t recognize, Raelene returned her attention to the man at the front.
“ ‘And a man shall be as an hiding place from the wind, and a covert from the tempest; as rivers of water in a dry place, as the shadow of a great rock in a weary land.’ ”
Jonathan Edwards’s words stirred Raelene. A spark that had long lain dormant flickered.
“The soul of every man necessarily craves happiness. Men in their fallen state are in very great want of this happiness.” He had the gift of eloquence, despite his booming voice that rattled through Raelene’s ears.
“You are happy, then?”
Gustaf’s question came back to her unbidden. Was she? Craving happiness wasn’t foreign to her, but had she found it?
“They were once in the enjoyment of it, but
mankind has sunk to a very low estate.” Edwards paced back and forth, his steps punctuating his words. No wonder men like him had been stirring the souls of colonists in every major town and settlement. Raelene’s soul responded to his accusation and admitted the truth in it.
“We are naturally like the prodigal, for we once were rich, but we departed from our Father’s house, and have squandered away our wealth, and have become poor, hungry, famishing wretches.”
Raelene heard evidence of the stricter confines of his Puritan heritage in his hard-hitting truths rather than the Anglican roots prevalent in the region. But his words contained a basic truth that crossed all beliefs. If the fires of conviction spread to the southern colonies as well, every scalawag from Savannah to Boston would confess his dirty deeds and repent. And Raelene wouldn’t be far behind them.
“There is quiet rest and sweet refreshment in Christ for God’s people who are weary.”
The message chipped away at the walls around Raelene’s heart. Rest. Refreshment. Weariness. She knew that last one well. The others she craved like a storm-tossed seaman seeking harbor. Lately, she’d felt battered and tossed, waiting for a calm that never seemed to come.
“ ‘O God, thou art my God; early will I seek thee: my soul thirsteth for thee, my flesh longeth for thee in a dry and thirsty land, where no water is.’ ”
Reverend Edwards quoted from the Sixty-third Psalm. Despite Raelene’s neglect of what used to be daily reading of the Bible, her heart and mind remembered. Papa used to quote that verse often when she asked him why he went outside to pray before the sun rose every morning.
Suddenly, the reverend appeared to be looking straight at her. Or through her.
“You have a choice to make. You can choose to lean on God for all the strength you need to get you through the travails of life, or you can shrivel and die like a branch cut from a tree. With the connection to the source severed, there is no chance for real life to exist.”
It was as though her heart were exposed, laid out for all to see. It beat loudly, crying out her deepest secrets to this man of God. In that moment, no one else mattered. Then, just as quickly, he resumed his sermon.
But the silent message had been clear. It was as though God had commanded him to speak directly to her with words meant for her alone.
“And ye shall seek me, and find me, when ye shall search for me with all your heart.”
The remainder of his message contained many more points, each one cutting deep, but that one stood out in her mind. Almost like a voice speaking the words from the book of Jeremiah aloud, the promise offered hope to Raelene’s weary soul.
Cedric shifted in his seat on the hard, wooden bench and drew her attention. Like others gathered, his face reflected the enjoyment of the sermon, but his eyes lacked the strong awareness she felt straight to her core.
When Cedric caught her staring through a blur of emotion, he reached across her lap and took one of her hands in his, patting it with familiarity and reassurance. Although he intended to comfort, it paled in comparison to the promise in Jonathan Edwards’s words. Or those from her conversations with Gustaf.
Dear Gustaf. Of its own accord, her gaze sought him out and found him watching her intently from his standing position along the far wall. A well of joy sprang from within, silently declaring her revelation across the distance and kindling a spark of hope in Gustaf’s eyes—until he looked away like a child caught with his hand in the bread cupboard.
In the periphery of her gaze, Raelene saw Cedric’s raised brow and groaned inwardly. It was bad enough her mind had drifted to Gustaf in the middle of the meeting. For Cedric to discover the source of her distraction was far worse.
But distracted she was. Even though she pretended to cling to every syllable Edwards spoke, Gustaf’s words echoed in her mind. “I pray you hear what you need.”
God had answered his prayer, Raelene realized. What was she going to do about it?
❧
On the ride home, Raelene couldn’t dislodge the words from the sermon that insisted on replaying in her mind like an echo bouncing off the walls of an empty house. Only the house that held her heart wasn’t empty. It was full of hope and the first signs of peace since before her parents had died. She’d all but shut off access to that area of her heart—until this evening.
“Christ gives Himself to His people to be all things to them that they need and all things that make for their happiness.”
All things. Everything she needed. At one time in her life, He had been. Could He be again?
As Cedric brought the team and wagon to a stop in front of her cottage, panic seized her. Should she share her inner struggle with him? How would he react to knowing her faith had been fragile at best? They’d spent a lot of time together over the past weeks, but Raelene wasn’t sure she could trust him with matters of the soul.
Cedric saved her the trouble. Rather than climbing down from the seat, he stood to help her descend. When her feet touched ground, he held on to her gloved hand.
“I must apologize for my hasty departure, Miss Strattford, but there is another matter to which I must attend this evening. I fear some of my financial investments will be lost, otherwise.”
Raelene forced a cheery smile she didn’t feel. “There is no need for apologies, Mr. Milton.” She covered her mouth to hide a yawn. “Mr. Edwards’s sermon, while long and taxing, has given me much to ponder. Spending the remainder of the evening alone to consider his message is a welcome prospect.”
Relief relaxed the worried lines across his brow and allowed the stiffness in his shoulders to ease. “Your understanding is greatly appreciated. Might I be permitted to call again tomorrow?”
“Around noon?”
“Yes.”
“I shall see you for the midday meal. Good evening, Mr. Milton.”
After Cedric left, the eerie quiet that ensued brought back the distressing key points from the sermon full force. She kept seeing herself as a dried and brittle tree branch on the ground rather than a flourishing tree full of life. Hoping to keep the anguish at bay, Raelene tended to chores before heading inside as the sun disappeared behind the trees and the air took on a chill. As she sat alone with Mama’s quilt blocks, in the chair in front of the fireplace, Reverend Edwards’s voice filled her mind once again.
“Christ is not only a remedy for your weariness and trouble, but He will give you an abundance of the contrary: joy and delight.”
How long had it been since she had laughed? When was the last time she had the prospect of lasting joy and delight?
Sure, she’d smiled and shared in Gustaf’s happiness when the first signs of a successful crop appeared, and again when the hailstorm had spared those same crops. She’d also enjoyed reading from her books at midday and discovering the world of Robinson Crusoe with Gustaf.
All with Gustaf. Raelene smiled. Yet even that joy was overshadowed by fear of what tomorrow might bring.
As for Cedric. . .granted, he was attentive and sincere, a perfect gentleman, and clearly committed to her, as well as to God. He made her laugh with his delightful accounts of life back in London and his wit. But his levity was shallow, not as soul moving as that promised by God’s Word.
Gustaf, despite his infuriating stubbornness, had that joy in faith. He lived his faith every day. Even when he failed, he clung to it with the certainty of forgiveness from his loving heavenly Father. And Gustaf had passed that love on to her by giving aid and comfort in her time of need, even when she’d not been very appreciative. He had nothing to gain from all his hard work, yet he offered it freely, just as God offered His love and forgiveness.
Finally, it all made sense. Even though she’d been furious at God, the peace and joy she so longed for was hers for the asking. All she had to do was surrender to Him.
A log fell in the fireplace, a
nd the ensuing sparks lit up the main room. It was as if a veil had been lifted. She understood what Gustaf had been telling her, what her father had told her as he lay dying. God was with her. He’d never left. She was the one who needed to embrace Him again.
Six months ago, Raelene’s uncompromising trust in God had faltered. Oh, she still believed that Jesus was God’s Son and that He’d died on the cross for her sins—that hadn’t changed. But the issue of trust had changed. No longer had she cast all her cares upon the Lord. At her father’s deathbed, the scales had been tipped in the other direction. She had reclaimed responsibility for her own well-being. God had fallen short of her expectations, so she no longer trusted in His provision.
“Lord, thou hast been our dwelling place in all generations.” The words from the Ninetieth Psalm came to mind and offered Raelene the comfort she’d been seeking. All generations. He’d always been there, and He always would be. She could trust Him. Excitement bubbled inside of her, begging for release. She wanted to tell someone, to share her joy. The stillness inside the cottage reminded her. She was alone.
“You are never alone.”
Peace filled her at the promise. God felt as real as the needle and thread she held in her hands. And just like the quilt she was fashioning, He’d woven a tapestry of joyful color in her own life.
An hour later, fatigue overtook her. Weary in body, but not in soul, Raelene drifted off to sleep with two thoughts on her mind. One came from the Bible: “Christ is all, and in all.”
God was all she needed. As for the other, she couldn’t wait to see Gustaf tomorrow to share her exciting news.
Sixteen
The next morning, Gustaf was nowhere to be found. Raelene completed the morning farm duties, prepared a light meal to break the fast, and headed for her garden. Even the most mundane task seemed significant in light of her newfound joy. Yet she couldn’t fully lose herself in tending to the plants and flowers. Her senses were on full alert for any sign of Gustaf’s presence. She needed to confide in someone, and while her head told her it should be Cedric, her heart hoped for Gustaf.
