She strode about the kitchen, arms gesturing grandly. “Damask draperies, lush carpets, select furniture, and the best linens and dishes. We will make a proverbial silk purse from a sow’s ear. We will dress up this fine rustic building and our guests will sleep and dine like kings and queens!”
She looked fondly at Breona and Marit. “You will both have good jobs here and be able to care for yourselves—and you will be able to have your baby here, Marit. More than that, you will all be safe. I will make sure of that.”
Later that evening, Flinty, a bedroll on his shoulder and a shotgun under his arm, knocked on the door. Joy showed him what they had done so far and he grinned in approval. “If y’ don’t mind, miss, I’ll bunk here in th’ great room where I kin keep an eye and an ear open fer trespassers. I sleep easy natural, s’ it’s no trouble fer me.”
In the morning while Breona and Marit continued cleaning, Joy wrote a letter.
Dear Arnie and Anna,
So much has happened since I left Omaha . . .
Joy filled the pages with a great many details, particularly regarding Breona and Marit, Marit’s baby, and the work ahead of them. She took pains to explain the trafficking of young girls and women to Denver, the methods used by those behind the trafficking to bait and snare their unsuspecting victims, and the terrible role Corinth played in their schemes.
Then, putting on her business woman’s hat, she explained her intent to establish a small resort she would call “Corinth Mountain Lodge.” She described the overlooks and trails around the little town; she explained how she believed their nearness and accessibility to Denver would make their little getaway inviting to city dwellers.
In this way, Breona and Marit will have a home and meaningful work. I have hopes to win them to the Lord and, as he gives opportunity, perhaps we shall rescue some of the girls in town whose freedoms have been taken.
The Lord willing and if our endeavor thrives, we may even be able to focus the attention of upstanding Denver leaders onto the criminal activities in this town. If the right attention is brought to bear, perhaps the evil deeds taking place here can be brought down.
Finally she began a list of things from the warehouse she would need shipped to her.
Arnie, would you be so kind as to locate Billy for me? If he is in need of work, I have a place for him here in Corinth. His first assignment would be to select the items from the warehouse, see to their packing and shipping, and then accompany them on the train to Colorado.
I would come to make the arrangements myself, but I do not dare to leave the relative security that our numbers and the common knowledge of our being here provide.
Once Billy arrives, he would assume duties similar those he had in our store, but he would also live on the premises and fill a security need. Because we have, by rescuing Breona and Marit, outwitted the men who prey on friendless girls, I do not want to make the mistake of thinking we are beyond their reach and retribution. I need a couple of hale and hearty young men, and Billy would be most welcome here if he is willing.
Anna, I have also listed other items we will need to properly set up housekeeping here and to prepare for the arrival of a baby in a few months. Dear Cousin, it would be a great blessing if you would select and buy these things for me. I enclose a bank draft for that purpose.
When I last saw all of you, I was a beaten woman. This past year has frequently been unbearable. Yes, it has been a year now. The anniversary of Grant’s passing was a few days ago, but I am grateful to the Lord for the new purpose my life now has.
I confess that I would rather be telling you face-to-face over coffee and cake in your cozy parlor all the things our Savior has done in my heart rather than in these few inadequate lines. However, I don’t know if I could bear to ever come back to Omaha. Perhaps in the spring you will come and see us and how we fare. David, Uli, and the children send their fondest wishes for this also.
Joy spent the best part of the morning making her lists. Breona and Marit saw her measuring rooms and windows and muttering to herself. When David came by later, she spent an hour questioning him and Flinty as to the better carpenters and roofers in Corinth and the best means of buying materials. When David left, he bore her very thick letter to the train where it was taken down into the valley with the rest of the mail.
It was Saturday evening and the morrow was Sunday. Somehow they all managed to bathe in front of the kitchen stove and ready themselves for church in the morning. Their preparations were not without some resistance. Breona lacked enthusiasm and Joy could see that Marit was anxious about showing her pregnancy to strangers.
“I niver had no need fer th’ church, miss,” Breona stated frankly. “But out o’ respect, I’ll be goin’—this oncet.”
“Marit, did your family go to church?”
“No, miss. My father usually . . . slept on Sundays.”
“By that air ye meanin’ he slept off the drink?” Breona’s question wasn’t unkind, just curious.
“Yes,” and Marit shook her head. Breona squeezed her hand.
Joy had not anticipated resistance and it took her a little by surprise. “I understand, Breona, and it is not my place to insist you go, of course. I was hoping . . . I think I was hoping that in our home we would pray and read the Bible together like the Kalbørgs do.”
Neither Breona nor Marit answered and Breona, her mouth set in a firm line, studiously picked at a thread on her sweater, avoiding Joy’s eyes.
~~**~~
Chapter 19
David pastored a small congregation that was welcoming to Joy and the girls. Uli had told Joy that everyone knew what was happening in Corinth but, because of the risk of retribution, only a few of the members knew about and were involved in the work to help girls escape.
She introduced Joy as her cousin and Breona and Marit as Joy’s employees, solving that issue for now. Uli had also discreetly informed a few women of Marit’s circumstances, and Joy was gratified to hear of their concern for Marit and her baby’s wellbeing.
The service was sweet and Joy found it easy to feel at home. As to what Marit and Breona felt or thought, Joy could only guess. She sang happily, many of the songs being familiar and loved ones. Marit and Breona, on the other hand, shared a hymn book and looked overwhelmed by the strange songs and activities.
David preached a simple message and chose John 4, the woman at the well, as his text.
The woman saith unto him,
Sir, thou hast nothing to draw with,
and the well is deep: from whence then
hast thou that living water?
Art thou greater than our father Jacob,
which gave us the well,
and drank thereof himself,
and his children, and his cattle?
Jesus answered and said unto her,
Whosoever drinketh of this water
shall thirst again:
But whosoever drinketh of the water
that I shall give him shall never thirst;
but the water that I shall give him
shall be in him a well of water
springing up into everlasting life.
The woman saith unto him,
Sir, give me this water,
that I thirst not,
neither come hither to draw.
Jesus saith unto her, Go,
call thy husband, and come hither.
The woman answered and said,
I have no husband.
Jesus said unto her, Thou hast well said,
I have no husband:
For thou hast had five husbands;
and he whom thou now hast
is not thy husband:
in that saidst thou truly.
The woman saith unto him,
Sir, I perceive that thou art a prophet.
As David finished the passage, he said, “Jesus demonstrated to this woman that he knows both our lives and our hearts. Can you imagine having five husbands? Surely she was not a respectabl
e woman, for his disciples were astonished when they returned and found him speaking to her.”
“But listen to what Jesus said! ‘Whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life.’ Whosoever! Not sinless people, not righteous ones, not upright citizens, but whosoever! And what does whosoever mean? Whosoever means ‘whomever will’. It means anyone who is willing. Anyone.”
“Jesus was inviting her to drink of the living water that only he could give. Did he invite her in error? Did he mistake her for a respectable woman? Obviously not. He knew all the facts of her life. He knew her every wrong decision and every failing. He also knew her heart, and so he said, ‘whosoever’ to her.”
“Church tradition teaches us that this woman became a devout follower of Jesus and led many of her fellow Samaritans to the Savior. We should be careful, friends. We should be careful to never discount people’s hearts and God’s plans for them. God looks at us and he sees everything we have done—but the Bible tells us that he looks on our hearts, and he says, ‘come to me, and I will give you Living Water—and you will never thirst again’.”
When Joy, Marit, and Breona returned home afterwards, they set themselves to cook enough for both lunch and dinner later. Joy, without thinking, hummed one of the hymns they had sung during the service.
“I liked that one,” Marit said, while peeling potatoes.
Breona only harrumphed.
The following morning as they cleared the breakfast dishes from the table, Joy poured herself another cup of coffee and sat back down. She opened her Bible and began to read.
Breona and Marit watched her for a moment, unsure of what was expected of them. Joy glanced up at them. “I am going to have morning devotions like we did at David and Uli’s house. You may join me if you wish or not. You are entirely free to choose.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Marit poured herself a glass of milk and sat near Joy at the table. Breona scowled and reluctantly plunked into a chair.
“Breona, I am sincere when I say you are not required to do Bible reading with us,” Joy told her.
“Well, be gettin’ on wi’ it,” she replied gruffly. “We’ve more ’n’ enow work awaitin’ fer t’day.”
Joy nodded and pointed to the passage she was reading in her Bible. “I thought I would reread the chapter in John that Pastor David spoke on yesterday. If that is all right?”
“I vould like dat,” Marit replied. Breona merely shrugged her shoulders noncommittally.
Joy slowly read John chapter 4 aloud. When she finished, she asked, “Do either of you have any questions?”
When neither of the girls responded, Joy bowed her head and prayed aloud, “Lord, thank you for your word. Thank you even more for sending Jesus to be the Living Water that each of us needs. Help us to understand what you are saying to us. In Jesus’ name I pray, amen.”
Joy closed her Bible and started to get up when Breona asked a little roughly, “I’m no’ understandin’ how a daecent woman can be havin’ five husbands . . .” She pursed her lips tightly. “Pastor Kalbørg said she was no’ a respectable woman . . . was she then bein’ a night woman?”
“Weeeell, we don’t have any way to know that for certain,” Joy replied thoughtfully, “But perhaps we can look at some of the clues about her in this passage.”
“Vat are ‘clues,’ miss?” Marit asked innocently.
That seemed to break the tension. Breona chuckled in her usual good-natured way and Joy smothered a smile. Breona, who confessed to having a taste for dime store novels, hastened to explain with some zeal.
“Clues air bein’ like a trail o’ bread crumbs tha’ daetecktive fellers follow t’ fin’ th’ bad guys, mainly if’n they cormitted murders.” Breona’s eyes shone at the prospect of murders and mayhem.
Joy truly struggled not to laugh aloud. Coughing to cover her mouth she responded, “Yes, that is so. A clue is a hint or a sign—very much like the bread-crumb trail in Hansel and Gretel.”
“Ah! I know dat story.” Marit looked pleased.
Joy nodded. “All right, let’s look at some of the clues in this chapter. Here is one. ‘It was about the sixth hour’. Time was counted from sunup in those days, so if the sun rose, say, at 6 a.m., then at the sixth hour it was about noon. The disciples had gone to find food, probably for lunch, and they left Jesus sitting on the edge of the local well. It’s very possible that the well was a ways outside of the town because verse 8 reads, ‘For his disciples were gone away unto the city to buy meat.’”
Both girls nodded in understanding.
“So Jesus was sitting there when the woman came to draw water—by herself. That is a little clue in itself, when you know the way things were done back then.”
“Whist?” Breona’s brow furrowed.
“Well, because women never went anywhere by themselves, partly because it was dangerous. But also because only women who were not ‘respectable’ went out in public by themselves—women who were not considered fit company for the other women of the village. And yet there she was . . . drawing water in the middle of the day, alone. You know, I would think that the respectable women of the village would go to draw their water early, in the cool of the day, not in the heat of it, and not alone, like this woman.”
Marit made a little “o” with her mouth as the implications sank in.
“And then Jesus, who was a Jew, spoke to her. First, you should know that Jews did not associate with Samaritans—any Samaritans—because they were half pagan in their beliefs. Second, a respectable man never spoke to a woman he did not know, especially a woman who was alone . . . you see, it was interpreted as a man seeking . . . a ‘night woman,’ as you put it, Breona.”
Both girls were looking slightly stunned at this point.
“But . . . air ye sayin’ Jesus was talkin’ to a . . .” Breona’s voice dropped to a whisper and she leaned forward, conspiratorially, “a prosdadute? Of a purpose?”
Marit’s eyes were like saucers now.
Joy answered, “And he asked her to give him a drink. Not only was he talking to her, he was willing to take a cup of water from her, to touch her hand to receive it. What do you think of that?”
Marit swallowed and thought hard, but Breona answered first, somewhat fiercely. “I am thinkin’ he was havin’ no bus’ness talkin’ t’ a woman loik that. He’s the holy Christ, he is. Don’ seem ’propriate.”
“Yes, that is what his disciples thought, too. But then he said to her, ‘if you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, give me a drink, you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water.’”
“And then he said,” and Joy opened her Bible again and read aloud,
. . . whosoever drinketh of the water
that I shall give him shall never thirst;
but the water that I shall give him
shall be in him a well of water
springing up into everlasting life.
“Everlasting life . . .” Marit breathed.
Breona looked at Marit sharply. “Not meanin’ it fer her, surely!” But she looked to Joy for confirmation.
“Actually . . .” Joy said slowly. “Do you remember what Cousin David said about God knowing everything we have done but also our hearts?”
“Yis, surely.”
“I can’t help but wonder how this woman ended up where she was . . . five husbands but living with a man who was not her husband. Shunned by the other women in the village. Not fit company for them. Having to walk to the well alone every day. Do you think she planned for her life to be like that or was happy with how it turned out? Why don’t we think for a minute of some things that could have happened to her when she was younger?”
The kitchen became very quiet for a long moment. As Joy waited for either of the girls to respond, she saw a tear drop from Marit’s chin.
“Marit? What are you thinking
, dear heart?”
Marit gulped back a sob. “I’m vondering . . . if, if, someone made her have a baby ven she didn’t vant one. Ven she didn’t have a husband.”
She looked earnestly at Joy. “Maybe people vill think I’m not a respectable voman, Miss Joy. Maybe they vill shun me, like they did her. Maybe . . . no good man vill ever vant me for a vife, now I have a babe coming.”
Breona growled at her, “Tosh! Ony man’d be fool not to want you! Ist no’ fault o’ yourn.”
“But . . .” and Marit looked at Joy, tears streaming down her face, “Vat . . . vhere vould I be if you hadn’t found me on the train before ve got to Denver? An’ vat of those other girls you told us about?”
Joy agreed soberly. “Yes. How many of those girls had no part in their ruin? Sometimes people fall into bad situations not of their choosing. And afterwards, when they are damaged or broken, perhaps they have few choices left . . . except bad ones. I wonder what bad situations the Samaritan woman fell into? I wonder if she had no choices left . . . except wrong ones. I wonder what Jesus knew about her that we don’t know.”
Breona stared at the table, color rising on her cheeks.
“What David told us Sunday is that Jesus sees not only all that we have done but sees our hearts, too—our past and all of our secrets. Even when we intentionally choose to sin, he sees our hearts, and he has compassion on us. Jesus said to that woman, ‘God is a Spirit: and they that worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth’.”
“Well, what is the truth? The truth is that all of us are broken in some way. We just refuse to see it or perhaps are blind about our own flaws. When we worship God, he wants us to see the truth about ourselves—that we are broken and we need a Savior.”
Joy took a deep breath. “Jesus didn’t come to save ‘the righteous.’ He came to save sinners. I, too, am a sinner—”
Breona made to disagree, but Joy waved her protest away. “No, Breona, you do not know everything about me. Only God does. He knows everything I have done and he knows my heart. I am a sinner—but, thank you Lord! I am also forgiven. I have been lost, so lost! You have no idea how lost I was this past year, how broken I was and, in some ways still am.”
Joy on This Mountain (A Prairie Heritage, Book 2) Page 13
