Gabriel's Gift

by Susan M. Baganz

  Gabriel loved challenges.

  2

  First Sunday of Advent

  Why did church benches have to be so hard and uncomfortable? Tilly fought not to fidget in their front row, family pew. She drank in the sight of the vibrant man who now led the congregation. Hard to believe her childhood friend could captivate her so completely when she thought she was long past that age of the mooncalf adoration she once held for him.

  When everyone had been seated, and the man began to preach, her heart quickened. He walked to the side of the lectern as he poured out the truths of Scripture. Gabriel’s passion for God and His Word both hypnotized and humbled her. When he finished expounding on the text and they rose to sing the final hymn, she struggled to breathe once again.

  Once dismissed, she slowly made her way out of the church to where Gabriel met and greeted the congregants. It seemed that all the young women, and the older ones as well, were enamored of the new preacher. She could not blame them, yet jealousy welled within her breast at the sight.

  She chided herself. Just because I saw him first doesn’t mean he is mine. Ah, but her foolish heart wouldn’t listen to reason.

  “Mr. Morgan, I’ve never heard the like. You bring fresh air and life into God’s Word when you preach.” Her grandfather was hearty in his greeting. “I am inspired by your words this morning.”

  Gabriel nodded. “Thank you for your compliments, my lord. The glory alone should go to God. I am only His vessel to do as He leads.”

  Grandfather nodded and grinned. “True. Very true. Would you like to join us for luncheon when you are finished greeting everyone?”

  “I appreciate the offer, my lord. Perhaps another time? I already have plans for this afternoon.”

  “I am sure you will be busy getting acquainted with everyone. When it is convenient for you, I would love to talk with you more about your message. A visit whenever you are able would not go amiss.”

  “You are too gracious. Thank you.” Gabriel glanced at Tilly, and the smile he gave her brought heat to her cheeks. “Perhaps we may go check on young Bennett this week? Would you like to join me for that, Miss Wilcox?”

  Tilly was puzzled. “He is in good hands with Mrs. Clark. Why would you visit a baby?”

  “Why did the shepherds visit an infant child?”

  “Jesus? Because He was the Messiah, the Promised One. And an angel appeared to them.”

  “True, but consider this, dear Miss Wilcox; isn’t every child special? And were you not a type of angel to the babe when you rescued him from certain death? God has a plan for each of us, does he not?”

  Confusion swirled within her. “I’d never thought of it that way.”

  “Just because the mother abandoned her child, does not mean God ever abandons us.”

  She nodded and turned away mutely to follow her grandfather. God never abandons us? Her own father had when he killed himself. She sniffed and stepped up into the carriage to sit next to her grandfather. She would set such thoughts aside for now.

  “What a wonderful service, do you not think so, Tilly? Mr. Morgan is God’s answer to my prayers for someone to revive our parish. I feel ten years younger just having listened to his sermon this morning. I know God hasn’t completed His plan for me here on earth, but today I was reminded that we all are called to that same glorious path. Refreshing, ey?”

  “Aye, Grandfather. Refreshing would be one word for it.” She stared down at the prayer book in her hands.

  “I wish your mother would come. She’s spent too much time moping in her rooms. Her melancholy would be greatly reduced if she would only partake of life instead of hiding from it.”

  “I’m sure you are correct, Grandfather. I shall check on her when we return home.”

  “You’re a delightful woman, Tilly. Perhaps you shall catch the eye of our young Mr. Morgan.”

  “I’m not worthy to marry a clergyman, Grandfather.”

  “And why not? You both come from noble families. He is an attractive man and obviously loves children. To hold a great-grandchild before I leave this world would please me greatly.”

  Heat rose in her cheeks. “I’m not yet out of mourning.”

  Her grandfather’s larger hand came to grasp hers. “Love doesn’t obey a timeline set by human standards, and I wish you would find someone to love, Tilly. I won’t be around forever, and while I’ve settled a handsome sum on you should I leave this earth before your marriage, I long to see you happily settled. It would ease this old man’s heart since I leave no heir to my title and lands.”

  “You have given me more than I could ever ask for, Grandfather.”

  “Have I? I’ve done only what any loving parent or grandparent would do in taking your mother and you into my home.”

  “Perhaps that is true, but it is more than I deserve.”

  “Why should you say such a thing?”

  The carriage pulled up to the house and the door opened. Tilly avoided answering the question as she stepped down. She awaited her grandfather, and together they walked into the house. Tilly took the stairs to her room to shed her Sunday clothes and put on a simpler gown. When she finished, she went to find her mother.

  The woman was still abed. It seemed as though she lived her life there since her husband’s passing. Tilly entered and opened the draperies. “I’ve returned from church, Mother.”

  Her mother yawned and stretched. “And was our new preacher a dead bore like your Grandfather?”

  “Grandfather was not boring. His delivery might have been dry but he sincerely believed all he taught us and for that I am grateful.”

  “You are too generous.”

  “No, Mother. It is Grandfather who is generous. Without him you would have needed to seek employment, as would I.”

  “Now you speak foolishness.”

  “Do I? I know that losing Father was hard. I have grieved as well.” Tears sought escape as they had all morning, even during Gabriel’s impassioned message. She was so obviously unworthy of her father’s love, much less God’s.

  “I loved your father, Tilly.”

  “Of a certain.” She squeezed her mother’s hand. “Will you join us downstairs for our Sunday repast?”

  “Thank you, but no. Now tell me about this new preacher.”

  Tilly sighed. “Remember the Morgans, our neighbors? Gabriel has grown into an attractive man, and all the young women in the parish are making eyes at him. He is intelligent, and has spoken of God like none I’ve ever heard before.”

  “You are enamored of him, too? I remember the two of you getting into mischief when you were younger.”

  “That was before boarding school. I will admit he is handsome, but his confidence and energy intimidates me as well.” How else could she explain the fluttering of her heart when she was near him? Certainly, he’d never incited that reaction when she was younger.

  “I had always longed for a titled man for you,” Mother sighed and dramatically rested the back of her hand against her forehead.

  “Hiding away in the country isn’t the ideal place to find one of those. And given Father’s…” she couldn’t finish the sentence. Her Mother’s tears smote her heart for even bringing up the death of the man she’d married. “I’m sorry, Mother.”

  Choking back sobs, her mother responded. “You may leave me now.”

  Chastened, Tilly rose and left the room. It seemed that almost every conversation with her mother ended the same way. It was as if the woman were stuck in a well of grief from which no one could help her escape. Perhaps it was a place she didn’t want to leave.

  

  Gabriel returned to the vicarage alone. He’d received a plethora of invitations to dine, and had tried, as gracefully as possible, to decline them all. His own cook was flustered by the variety of food already being delivered to his door since his arrival yesterday. Apparently, various misses in the neighborhood had spied his moving in and adventure with Miss Wilcox.

  Mattie.
>
  He longed to understand the stricken sorrow in her eyes. Why would such a beautiful woman hide away in the country when she should be dancing at London society balls? He was certain there was a story there, and his shepherd’s heart longed to ease her pain.

  Careful where you tread, young man. He could almost hear his father’s words of caution. Gabriel might not be titled or hold claim to worldly wealth, but his father had warned him that even as a pastor, he would need to be wise. He possessed a comfortable, reliable inheritance and did not need a benefactor. Preaching was what God had called him to do, not simply the easiest of three choices he had available. He knew he could have never been content as a country squire. While there was value to serving one’s tenants, his heart was equally concerned for their spiritual health.

  He’d never told anyone that he’d been inspired by hearing an eclectic mix of Puritan, Methodist, and Evangelical preachers. Whilst his family remained unaware, he would sneak off to listen to all they had to teach him about God. His eyes were opened to a methodology that surpassed the rigid liturgy of the church. He’d prayed the Holy Spirit would light a fire in his new congregation, and that not one would be attracted to the young man giving the message but rather to the glorious Lord he proclaimed.

  He ate a simple meal and strode out to the garden behind the house to sit and pray.

  His thoughts kept straying to the lovely Matilda. Holding little Bennett yesterday had kindled in him a desire for a wife and family of his own. He closed his eyes, and even as he recalled her face, his heart ached for the pain she hid from those around her. He must remember that her spiritual need trumped his desire for a wife. He’d minister to her soul before he considered a courtship, if that’s where God led him.

  Lord, help me be content with my single state and stay focused on the task to which You’ve called me. Open my eyes to see beneath the surface. I cannot do this without You.

  

  Monday came and Gabriel made his first visit to see Mrs. Clark and check on the baby.

  “Mr. Morgan, please, come in.” Mr. Clark motioned Gabriel into the house.

  “Thank you. I wanted to see how your wife was doing caring for two infants.”

  “She’s not getting much sleep.” The man yawned. “I must admit the lad is a charmer though when he’s not crying.”

  Gabriel grinned. He was led into the main living space where Mrs. Clark was just putting her daughter into a small bassinet similar to the one in which Bennett rested.

  Mrs. Clark looked up at Gabriel. “Mr. Morgan. Can I get you some tea?”

  “Thank you. No. I came to check on the little lad.”

  “Did you want to hold him? He’s a bit of a snuggler but I’ve not much time to give him for that.”

  “I’d love to.”

  Gabriel sat, and Mrs. Clark brought the babe. He held the child in his arms and big dark eyes peered up at him. “Hello, Bennett. We’ve yet to be introduced. I’m Mr. Morgan.”

  “Your first name is Gabriel, am I correct?” Mrs. Clark asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Then you must be this young man’s guardian angel.”

  “The angel was the young woman who first found him. Miss Wilcox.”

  “She is an angel. She visits people and brings them things they need.”

  “Really? Such as?”

  “When we were about to have our daughter, she brought cloths for nappies and burping the baby, and she’d knitted a sweet little blanket to keep her warm. Miss Wilcox always seems to understand just what anyone needs and provides it. She may not say much, but her heart is big.”

  Gabriel nodded. So, the woman his heart desired liked to minister to the physical needs of those in the parish? Good to know.

  “Too bad about her father.”

  Frowning and reluctant to gossip, Gabriel couldn’t help but ask. “What about him?”

  Mrs. Clark leaned forward and whispered, “He hurt his back after a fall from a horse and took to the drink. Ended up killing himself.” She turned to her husband who sat nearby. “How long ago was that now?”

  Her husband shrugged. “They moved here just when you learnt you were with child.”

  She nodded. “That’s right. And we’ve never seen Mrs. Wilcox. I hear tell she stays in her bedroom. And Miss Wilcox, she has the heart of an angel, but I don’t know that I’ve ever seen her smile.”

  “Grief shrouds that house,” her husband added. “Except for Lord Hennison. Now don’t get me wrong, he has a heart for God, but his delivery was dry compared to yours yesterday. Mother stayed home with the babies.”

  “Archie couldn’t say enough good things about your preaching.”

  “I appreciate the compliments.” Gabriel looked down. The little boy in his arms had fallen asleep with a tiny hand wrapped around Gabriel’s finger. “Now this little man is asleep, so I should probably leave so you can enjoy your peace and quiet.” He placed the baby back in the bassinet.

  “Thank you for coming by, Mr. Morgan,” Mr. Clark said.

  “You can come back and rock a baby to sleep anytime you want,” Mrs. Clark added.

  “I might just do that. I am rather partial to the little lad.” Gabriel donned his hat. Leaving the humble cottage, he walked down the road headed for home. He had some work to do to prepare for next Sunday’s message. Advent was a wonderful time to be expounding on God’s truths and helping the congregants to prepare their hearts for Christmas. With renewed energy he made his way back to the vicarage.

  

  Matilda sat in the parlour, knitting a blanket for Bennett. She’d worked on it yesterday until her hands cramped. Today she started anew. Why the rush? For some reason she was intrigued with this child even though she had been reluctant to hold it while under Gabriel’s scrutiny. She was sure he had assessed her and found her wanting of motherly instinct. Her own mother had been so distant. Even before Father’s death, Matilda had been closer to Nanny than to Mother. She’d need to overcome her fears and inadequacies if she ever hoped to be a mother herself someday.

  Someday? Grandfather had already spoken about how he would employ a nurse and nanny once Bennett was weaned. Matilda would not need to help raise the child. Yet somehow, Tilly believed it should be her job to take care of the baby. She was the one who found him.

  She wondered why all this possessiveness should overcome her now. Perhaps she feared this would be her one chance to be a mother? Given her father’s shameful actions, no man would want to wed her. She doubted even God’s love for her, in spite of her Grandfather’s words of assurance. If her own father didn’t love her enough to care for her whilst she was still under his protection, why should another man—even One Who was God?

  Yet, she doubted not her grandfather’s love. He had made a provision for Mother’s and her every need. He was getting older, though. How much longer would he be alive to watch over her? What would happen to her and her mother should Grandfather die? Money didn’t meet every need. Even if Mother inherited Grandfather’s home, tending to the upkeep, hiring maids and managing the finances…it all terrified her. Depending on a man in marriage was also precarious. Testimony of that was upstairs hiding in a darkened room wasting away from grief over a lost love. She had no doubt her parents adored each other. But love wasn’t enough to overcome the addiction and pain that plagued her father after his injury.

  To depend on anyone was dangerous, but here she was at the mercy of her grandfather’s hospitality and financial support. It left her with a hopelessness above which she could not rise. Even with Christmas drawing near, the joy often associated with this season was absent.

  Images of Gabriel holding that baby flashed through her memory. The loving way he nurtured the child. How would it feel to be held in his arms? Would she find comfort there as much as little Bennett had? Dangerous thoughts for a confirmed spinster.

  And yet, she couldn’t help but think of Gabriel’s smile, energy, and the twinkle in his eyes. Nostalgi
a welled within as she remembered the younger version of the man who was her childhood friend. She took a deep, shuddering breath to calm her heart. It would never do to dwell on impossible dreams.

  Sitting by the window overlooking the dormant garden, Matilda recalled flashes of a happier time. Meeting Gabriel by the lake trying to see who could skip a rock across the surface the farthest. The two of them riding horses along trails and taking in the beauty of the countryside. His ability to make her smile and laugh. Swims taken in the pond. Scandalous if her parents had known—he in his unmentionables and she in her camisole.

  All before she’d started changing of course.

  Once, he’d walked and held her hand.

  “Mattie, you’re my best friend. I’m off to university next week, and you’ll be at boarding school. I wish we could correspond. I will miss you terribly.”

  “It isn’t done.” She pouted, already dreading their separation.

  “I’ll always love you. Never fear. When I return and have my career chosen, I’ll seek your father’s permission to court you properly.”

  “Court me? What if you meet someone else?”

  “Do you doubt my constancy? I know my heart—there could be no one else for me but you, Mattie.”

  No one but Gabriel had ever used that nickname. She’d missed that. Time and circumstances had changed everything and those promises could never be expected to be kept now.

  Her heart grieved another loss as she locked away her childhood memories.

  3

  On Wednesday, Matilda walked to the Clark cottage to present the soft blanket for the little boy. Bennett. She shouldn’t be surprised at her grandfather taking the little child under his wing. But who would raise this boy when Grandfather was gone? It was a question she was afraid to ask. While grandfather lauded caring for widows and orphans in the present, much like her mother, herself, and this child; what of their future? It was a recurring worry.

  “Oh, my. Miss Tilly this is beautiful. Thank you.” Mrs. Clark said as Tilly handed over the blanket and stepped into the house. “Come in and sit down. Bennett has just been fed. Let me get him for you to hold.”