Tracie Peterson - [Land of Shining Water 02]

by The Quarryman's Bride

  “She was always so happy,” Emmalyne said, shaking her head. “We both dreamed of marriage and having children. I remember our plans to live close enough to raise our families together. We talked of how much fun it would be to have babies close in age.” Emmalyne felt the heaviness of her sorrow and fell silent. She had never expected to hear such horrible news, and the very thought of Fenella’s situation on top of everything else left her feeling truly overwhelmed.

  “I’m sorry,” Dr. Williams said, true sympathy in his expression. “I can see this has been most upsetting. I really thought by now that someone would have told you.”

  “It wouldn’t have mattered when the telling came or who did it.” She met his gaze and forced a smile. “You did me a favor in sharing this. I thank you for your honesty.”

  He reached out and placed his hand over hers. Emmalyne quickly pulled her hand back as if he’d burned her. She very nearly knocked over the teapot in doing so. “I’m . . . oh dear . . . I’m so sorry.”

  Dr. Williams shook his head. “Don’t be. I apologize for being . . . less than a gentleman. I should not have been so forward.” He got to his feet and looked down at Emmalyne. “You should visit Fenella, if you think you can bear it. I’d give it another week or so, and by then she should be feeling better—at least physically. I’ll come by to check on Angus tomorrow.”

  “Thank you,” Emmalyne said, wishing she could offer something more tangible than mere words. She didn’t want to encourage the good doctor, however. The sooner he accepted limitations where she was concerned, the better they both would be. Emmalyne knew that nothing could ever come of his obvious interest in her, and he needed to be clear on that. As did she.

  Feeling all the worse after Dr. Williams departed, Emmalyne went to check on the patient and his nurse. To her surprise she found her mother kneeling beside the sickbed.

  “Mother?”

  The woman lifted her head and looked at Emmalyne. “Come pray with me, daughter. We need to ask God to lift this wretched curse. We won’t be free of these sorrows until He does.”

  Emmalyne wasn’t sure whether they were truly under a curse or not, but she did believe it was time for them to refocus their hearts on God. She wished her father could see the truth in this. She went to her mother and knelt beside her. The hard wooden floor was most uncomfortable, but Emmalyne didn’t mind. Maybe such an act of sacrifice would show God just how sincere she was with her requests.

  She lost track of the time as they prayed in silence. From time to time her mother would pray aloud and plead with God to deliver them. The entire matter reminded Emmalyne of Jacob wrestling with God. Jacob had declared that he would not let go until God blessed him, and Emmalyne could imagine her mother saying the same thing.

  “He’s my only son, Lord,” she heard her mother whisper. “You must allow him to come back to us.”

  Emmalyne wasn’t sure God was obligated to do anything of the sort, but she knew it was her deepest desire. She glanced to where her brother lay. He looked so still—almost lifeless. The rash had faded somewhat from his face, but in its place Angus’s skin was a pasty yellow-gray color, suggesting death.

  Please don’t take him from us, Father, Emmalyne prayed in silence. He’s so precious to me—to all of us. Lord, let us know what to do. Let us know how to help Angus recover from this terrible sickness.

  “O God,” her mother sobbed beside her, “hear our cries. Hear us and answer, O Lord our God. You are all we have now. So much has been lost to us. So much has been taken from us. Forgive us our sins . . . forgive me, Faither.” Her mother’s voice rose in earnest petition. “Please, Faither, I know I’ve been a selfish woman. I know I’ve not lived life in the fullness of your will. I’ve oft taken my own way, and now I am paying the price. I beg you, Lord, to take this misery from my family. If need be, take me as payment.”

  Emmalyne heard something behind them and turned to see her father standing in the doorway. Their gazes met only for a moment, and then he was gone. It was probably just her imagination, Emmalyne told herself, but she thought she saw something akin to regret in his expression.

  Tavin stood on the front lawn and stared up into the night sky. The stars looked like tiny candle flames set against a coal-black curtain. He had long ago learned to navigate by the constellations. His father had told him that man needed to know where he was, even if he didn’t know where he was going.

  “But where am I?” he asked no one in particular.

  He thought of Emmalyne Knox, less than three miles away. She was no doubt sleeping safe and sound in her own bed, dreaming whatever dreams might come. Did she ever think of him? Did she ever regret the decision she’d made? He certainly did.

  Tavin slammed his fists against his hips, wishing he could forget it all. Yet at the same time he knew he didn’t ever want to lose those good memories of Emmalyne. It was the dichotomy of his life. He constantly found himself torn between the ideals of love and hate. His misery was acute.

  The sound of frogs croaking nearby mixed with the wind rustling overhead in the trees gave Tavin a strange sense of unease, like a chill down to his bones. He was thirty-one years old, and what had he done with his life except attempt to run away from it all? He had no wife, no children, not even a home of his own.

  Gazing back at his father’s house, Tavin stifled the urge to release a scream from somewhere deep within his soul. A tightness in his chest gripped him hard, and for a moment he found it difficult to breathe. What kind of new anguish was this? Was God so displeased that He found it necessary to punish Tavin even before Judgment Day?

  “If you hate me, God, why don’t you just kill me now and get it over with,” he said, his teeth gritted in frustration as he looked heavenward once again. “I have nothing. You’ve taken it all. You might as well take my life, as well.”

  For a moment, just a very short moment, Tavin wondered if perhaps God would indeed strike him down. His mother had raised him to respect the Almighty and never to speak in such a manner lest God’s ire be raised. However, instead of facing the wrath of God, Tavin felt a strange sense of His presence nearby. It was the last thing he’d expected, and certainly the last thing he thought he wanted. And yet . . . he found himself longing for such a union with his Creator.

  “Perhaps I’m just as mad as Fenella,” he whispered, gripping his head between his hands.

  Chapter 15

  When Angus showed remarkable improvement the next day, Mother declared that God had heard their prayers and lifted His curse on the Knox family. Emmalyne was glad Angus was better, but she was less than convinced that a curse had been lifted. When Reverend Campbell came by once again, Emmalyne couldn’t help but question him as she walked with him back to his carriage.

  “Does God put curses on His children?”

  The pastor looked at her for a long moment. “Why do you ask such a thing?”

  “My mother believes our family was cursed because of things she did wrong in the past. I thought, however, that God was forgiving and that if we asked Him, He would forgive our sins and cast them as far as the east is from the west.”

  “That is true.”

  “But God also punishes,” Emmalyne continued. “The Bible shows examples of God’s punishment. When the Israelites sinned and built idols, for example.”

  “Yes, those events did happen,” the reverend replied. “But you forget another very important event.” The man smiled at Emmalyne. “Calvary. Jesus took on the curses and sins and wrath of God against all evil at Calvary. As God’s children we might endure discipline, but surely not God’s wrath. Jesus paid the price for that already.”

  “So my mother’s belief that her sins—and I would question that they are truly sins—have brought curses upon our family would be false.”

  “In my understanding of God’s Word, yes.” The man grew thoughtful. “There are, of course, consequences for sin, and often people equate this with God’s punishment. Or curse, if you will.”

&nbs
p; “And how does that differ?” Emmalyne asked. “Suffering is suffering. If the innocent suffer for the sins of others, how is that something the Lord allows?”

  “Ah, the theological dichotomy of why bad things are permitted to happen to good people.”

  They were stopped alongside the buggy by now. Emmalyne folded her arms. “Why does God allow it?” She thought of Fenella and the loss of her husband and the subsequent loss of her mind. “If God loves His children as the Bible says, then why would He allow them to suffer?”

  “Emmalyne, this world is far from perfect, and suffering is all around us. God in His infinite wisdom holds the world in His hands. His power over all is unequaled and without question. However, He has also allowed Satan—for a time—a certain amount of power and say-so. Would you not agree that we are challenged by Satan’s ploys on this earth?”

  “I would, but I don’t understand why it must be so. I gave my heart to Jesus as a little girl. I heard the gospel message of God’s love for us, how He sent Jesus to take our place on the cross. I’ve studied the Scriptures, and I’ve done my best to live by them, even losing the love of my heart in seeking to honor my father and mother.” She paused and lowered her head in a moment of embarrassment. She wished she could take that last statement back.

  “Please don’t think that I’m saying I believe myself to be perfect,” she finally continued. “I’m not.” She raised her face to meet the older man’s gaze. “I just don’t understand why my family continues to endure so many awful things. My father blames my mother for every problem—every turn of despair. Why does God allow him to do that?”

  “Why does God allow it?” He smiled. “Tell me, Emmalyne, why do you allow it?”

  Her brows knit together as she frowned. “How can I not? How can I honor my father and mother and not? I am not my father’s master to make demands of him.”

  “That is true. But you have an intercessor, Jesus, who is your father’s master. Have you pled your case to Him? God does not call us to tolerate or accept sin. He would have us overcome sin with His love.”

  Emmalyne considered the man’s words for a moment. In truth, while she had prayed that things would change, she’d never specifically prayed for God to change her father’s heart. Nor had she prayed for insight to change her own where he was concerned. “I suppose I have been remiss in my prayers. I have ranted at God to tell Him of my misery and ask that He take it away, but I suppose I’ve not truly looked to Him for answers beyond my own ease. And I’ve certainly not worried overmuch about love.”

  Reverend Campbell nodded. “I would encourage you to spend time in prayer and to seek God’s heart. He will reveal to you what is to be done. He is a God of reconciliation. We need look no further than the cross to prove this.”

  “Reconciliation.” Emmalyne murmured the word. “Perhaps my pain has blinded me to God’s true purpose for my life. Maybe I am to help facilitate reconciliation in my family.”

  The pastor smiled and reached out to pat her hand. “Perhaps you are.”

  Emmalyne thought for a long while on Reverend Campbell’s words. That afternoon she decided to approach her mother on the matter. With Angus sleeping peacefully, Emmalyne drew her mother out to the dining table and surprised her with fresh-brewed tea.

  “Mother,” she began, sitting down across from her with her own cup, “I know you feel God cursed this family because you encouraged Father to run away and marry you.” Her mother started to say something, but Emmalyne held up her hand. “Please, just hear me out.” Mother nodded and took a sip of tea.

  Emmalyne thought for a moment. “I don’t think it has been God’s punishment, so much as the consequences that naturally befall us when we make any number of choices.” She fiddled with her teacup.

  “I was speaking with Reverend Campbell, and he said that God’s wrath toward us was paid out at the cross. He said that when we are reconciled with God through Jesus, His wrath against our sins is no longer on us. Jesus took on our sins, and we are made clean by His sacrifice.”

  “But even so, we are not without sin. We are not perfect,” Mother interjected.

  “No, we aren’t. But we are forgiven, and if we are forgiven, how can we say that we are under God’s curse?”

  Emmalyne’s mother must not have been able to answer that, because she took a new tack. “Suffering is a way of life,” she said. “Jesus himself said we would have suffering—trials and troubles.”

  “True,” Emmalyne replied, “but He also said that we could take heart because He had overcome this world. Mother, I think we do God a disservice to believe we are cursed by Him when we have sought to be reconciled to Him through Jesus. I do not believe this family has been cursed because you and Father fell in love and eloped. Granted, there were consequences for your actions, but the death of Father’s family wasn’t God exacting payment. There is nothing in the Bible that I can see that would support that belief.”

  Mother sipped her tea quietly as Emmalyne continued to lay out her thoughts. “I am determined to see this family come together in love. I know Father is a bitter and hate-filled man, but I also know that God’s love can change that.” She looked at her mother with a feeling of growing hope. “We can pray for Father and for ourselves. We can ask God to change our hearts and Father’s, as well. Let’s watch for ways to show him that we care about him.” Mother and daughter stared at each other for a moment at this new, somewhat daunting, thought.

  “I want you to be happy, Mother,” Emmalyne went on. “I want you to know peace of mind. You have not brought a curse upon this family. You are a loving woman who seeks to do God’s will. Satan is the only one who benefits by your believing otherwise.”

  Her mother looked rather stunned. She said nothing for several minutes, and Emmalyne used the silent moments to pray.

  God, this isn’t easy for her to hear, much less accept. Please open her heart and mind to the truth. Help us, Lord. Please help us to love one another. Help us to love Father.

  The next morning Angus was sitting up on his own, and though extremely weak, he was able to feed himself. Emmalyne stood at the end of his bed and proclaimed his progress a miracle.

  “We had feared losing you, but now you are restored to us . . . at least in part. I know you’ll continue to grow strong. I have prayed for it to be so.”

  Angus’s pale complexion and weary expression did not deter her positive proclamations. “Before you know it, Angus, you’ll be fully recovered. God is to be praised for this.”

  “I agree,” he replied, then gave way to a bout of coughing. When he finally regained control, he looked up at Emmalyne with watery eyes. “I remember you and Mother praying for me. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything like it before.”

  “Hopefully you’ll hear a lot more of it in the days and months to come.” Emmalyne squared her shoulders. “I have resolved to see this family mended from the rips and tears Satan has delivered us.”

  “And that we’ve delivered to each other,” Angus added.

  “Aye. We are responsible for allowing Satan’s ill will and bad feelings. We must turn our hearts ever toward the light—toward God’s mercy. We need to pray for Father to find peace and to know God’s love again. He has been angry so long that he won’t even try. But if we show him love, perhaps Father will be drawn back to his heavenly Father.”

  Angus shrugged. “I’m not sure any of us are very knowledgeable about loving.”

  Emmalyne smiled. “Then it’s high time we learned.”

  Mother entered the room with a stack of freshly washed bedding. “Emmalyne, help me get Angus from the bed to the chair so I can make his bed with fresh linens.”

  “I’ll help you make the bed, as well,” Emmalyne said, coming around to the side. She pulled back the covers and reached out to take hold of her brother. “Come then, little brother.” She threw him a grin and pulled him toward her. Angus was stronger than she’d expected and, grinning back, gave her arm a yank. Emmalyne very nearly lost
her balance. “Mother, I believe he might well be able to get himself to the chair.”

  Angus chuckled and eased to the edge of the bed. “I wouldn’t go that far. My legs feel as though they’re no better than a rag doll’s.”

  Emmalyne helped him put his arm around her neck, then eased him into a standing position. “Just take your time,” she told him. “Get your bearings, and then we can move to the chair.” She helped Angus to the rocker and gently lowered him to sit. Weeks in a sickbed had taken their toll, and she could feel his bones where before were muscles.

  “Mother,” she said, “I think it might be a good idea to have some beef for supper. Angus is skin and bones, and a good hearty stew would do him well.”

  “Have we the needed ingredients?” Mother asked.

  “We will.” Emmalyne went to the bed and helped her mother secure the clean sheet. “There’s a beef roast in the icebox that Father procured yesterday. We can cut that up for stew. Also, Morna MacLachlan sent a note offering us some fresh produce from her garden. I thought you and I might walk over there and pay a visit. After all, we’ve been here over two months and have yet to see them.”

  “I cannae leave your brother,” Mother said quickly. “But you go. I can start stewing the meat and care for Angus.”

  Emmalyne considered arguing, but then changed her mind. She hadn’t wanted to go alone to the MacLachlans’; she worried that she would find herself in another difficult encounter with Tavin. But it was early in the day, so he would be working. There was no reason to think she would have to face him.

  “Very well. I’ll go and bring back vegetables. I’ll take Morna some gooseberry jam and fresh rolls.”

  “Aye, that would be good. Give her my best,” Mother said, shaking out Angus’s quilt. “I believe I will let this air on the line while you sit in the chair awhile.”