by DiAnn Mills
“Call me if you need someone to talk to. I’ll even go with you to make a report to the police.” The woman’s eyes were unusually moist.
“Thank you, Mrs. Schumacher,” Grace finally said as she swiped tears from her streaked cheeks and recollected her rigid composure. She remembered the wire…and though her common sense told her otherwise, she couldn’t help but hope that it was from Gerald, explaining what he had done. Mrs. Schumacher handed her the message.
Grace tried to smile politely as she closed the door softly behind her landlady.
She retreated to her chair. I had a feeling that something like this was coming, she thought. How could I be so stupid? I even thought he cared for me! How will I ever get back those months of wages? All that time I stayed home and worked in the Tappan store was wasted. Her blank stare looked past the tiny third-floor window, beyond the four close walls.
I should have married and settled down like any normal young woman. David made a perfectly good offer, but I had to see the world…though this is far from what I had in mind.
For some reason the thought of David Matthews sent more tears streaming down her face. She remembered the way he had looked at her the last time she’d seen him, and she saw again the love and hurt in his eyes. A strange yearning filled her.
She gulped back her tears and slowly unfolded her telegram. And then she simply sat frozen, staring at the words in front of her, unable to make sense out of them.
GUY IN BAD ACCIDENT. Stop. FATHER IS SICK. Stop. TAKE TRAIN HOME SOON. Stop. JOHN
Grace choked and read her brother’s words again. They couldn’t be true. Not Guy, who was so dear to her, to her entire family, and to his best friend, David—to the whole community, in fact. Nothing could happen to Guy. He was like the ground she walked on, always there, always dependable. Surely God would not let this accident have hurt him too badly, surely he would be fine soon. And Father never got sick. He was so strong; he’d always been strong her whole life. They’ll both be fine, she tried to tell herself.
But a cold chill settled over her, telling her otherwise. How can all this be happening at once? Oh God, what are You doing? Please…heal my brother and my father.
Her prayer brought her no comfort. Dread filled her heart, a terrible sense of foreboding. She jumped up and began to pack. As she stuffed her clothing into a trunk, a new thought occurred to her: she would have to admit to her family that she couldn’t even afford to buy her own train ticket home.
Grace moved to the bed to weep in despair. Lord, where are You in times like these?
Chapter 1
December 18, 1936
Dennison, Ohio
Three months later, Grace walked to the depot to catch a ride home from Dennison to Tappan for the Christmas holidays. After Guy’s death and her father’s declining heath, she had known she could not return to Cleveland; her family needed her to be closer to home. She had taken the job at Mrs. Miller’s dress shop, the one Guy had told her about the last time she’d talked to him. The job was not a bad one, but it was boring, and the last months had been a dreary blur of sorrow and discouragement. After her experience with Gerald, she had no desire to return to Cleveland—but she felt no excitement about living the rest of her life in Dennison either.
Going home today brought her no excitement either. Her parents’ house was not the same since her father’s illness and Guy’s death, and she almost dreaded her visits there. Things were too different; Guy’s absence was too painful; and soon the entire town would be gone, flooded by the new dam.
Reaching the depot, she stood rigid by the window, too tense to sit on one of the long benches. She was here to meet Mr. Matthews, her family’s neighbor and her only way home today from town. She could see that he had already gone out to the platform to await the train, even though a stiff, cold wind was blowing. The chill had hit with force this past week and Little Stillwater Creek was almost frozen over.
Grace looked now toward the creek, trying to think of something besides the man who would soon be arriving on the train. A train’s whistle could be heard as it neared the station from the direction of the neighboring town, and her stomach clenched with nervousness.
This would be the first time in eighteen months that she had seen David Matthews, Mr. Matthews’ son, Guy’s best friend—and the man who had once asked her to marry him. David could not come home for Guy’s funeral, and Grace could only imagine the grief he suffered alone. Her own sorrow had been unbearable and she could barely remember details of the day.
She turned now and looked over the waiting room, thinking perhaps it would be better to sit than be found waiting by the window. But most of the seats had been taken. Being the holiday season, the depot was extremely busy on this Saturday afternoon with shoppers traveling to and from the bigger cities and other people who were already making the journey home for Christmas. Grace could see no comfortable seat available in the small waiting room, so she turned back to the window, pulling her black woolen coat closer as the door opened to receive a new flow of travelers.
The brick-lined platform was full of people, large carts of luggage, and boxes. Grace had to crane her neck to find Mr. Matthews where he waited eagerly for his son to alight the train that could now be seen chugging into the station. Grace imagined David sitting awkwardly on the train, out of place among all the finely dressed people. Of course he wouldn’t be wearing the farmer’s overalls that he always used to wear, but she could picture him in an ill-fitting suit, his old misshapen hat jammed on his head. She wondered how a farm boy like David had managed all these months in the city. She had been surprised when David had found employment in Detroit.
The last time she and David had spoken, she had been filled with ambition and plans. The memory of her rejection of his marriage proposal was between them now, but she would have been embarrassed to face him even without that, now that all her fine plans had come to nothing.
Working every day along with her four roommates in Mrs. Miller’s dress shop was getting old for Grace. She was growing to hate the tedium of the stuffy upstairs workroom with its treadle sewing machine that pumped all day long. The widowed Mrs. Miller had been unusually kind though at the time of Guy’s funeral, advancing Grace the money to move closer to home. Grace owed her much and she felt obligated to stay with the position and do a good job.
But it had been a long, busy week at the dress shop, and even if she dreaded facing again the changes in her home, she was glad for the extended holiday. She could have been home by now if only her brother John had picked her up at the dress shop like he usually did for her weekend visit. Then she could have avoided this embarrassing meeting with David, at least for a little longer. But John had said he was occupied today with his own business, and he had made the arrangement for Mr. Matthews to pick her up instead.
Grace frowned as she thought of her brother John. Since Guy’s death, he seemed to have distanced himself from the family, spending more and more time with his new girlfriend. His changed attitude toward his family was one of the many disturbing changes that Grace faced each time she went home—but where Guy’s death and her father’s illness filled her with sorrow, the change in John made her feel frustrated and angry. How can John be so selfish? Doesn’t he understand that we need him now more than before?
Grace pushed away her anger with John and scanned the passengers descending from the train. Her eyes were drawn to a handsome young man in a well-tailored navy suit. The brim of his stylish hat had slid to one side and hid his face from her view. He held his head high as he scanned the area, and she wondered if he were in town on business.
She continued to watch as he neared the building, but quickly the young man’s hat was sent off with the wind by Mr. Matthews’s jovial greeting. Red hair glistened in the winter sunlight. She felt her mouth drop open as she recognized David as the stylish gentleman.
She recalled the last time she had spoken with him. David had been wearing his old overalls, his dull red hair
allowed to curl over his ears. He had been well-toned from the years of farmwork, but the same hard work had always seemed to give him a tired look. This new David was nothing like she had expected.
David retrieved his hat and followed his father to the door. Grace found herself lifting a hand to check her long hair clasped at the back of her neck, a luxury she afforded herself and chose not to cut to fit new fashion fads. David spotted her even before he stepped up over the threshold and gave her a warm, broad smile.
“Gracie, how are you?”
Grace was surprised by his use of her childhood name. Only Guy had used it in recent years, and the name made her eyes sting.
David’s voice was soft and kind. He took his hat in his left hand and gently squeezed her shoulder with his right. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t make it home for Guy’s funeral.” Grace detected moisture in his eyes. “You know he was like a brother to me, too, but praise God, he’s with Christ.”
Grace couldn’t find her voice. This attractive, confident gentleman barely resembled the friend of her childhood. Neither did he appear to have even a flickering memory of their last conversation, when she had flatly rejected his offer of marriage. He seemed to have captured everything she had once sought after—worldly charm and sophistication. His change lacked the pride and haughtiness that many of her friends had displayed however. But were his show of faith and sympathy honest? Honesty and faith had become very important to Grace.
Grace sat in the rear seat of Mr. Matthews’s Ford Phaeton on the ten-mile trip to her home near the village of Tappan. She still had barely said more than hello to David, and now he and his father were enjoying their first reunion in nearly a year.
“That’s a nice suit you have there, son. That Detroit car factory must be treating you pretty good,” Mr. Matthews noted.
“It was past time for me to buy a new suit and I could only afford one, so I decided it should be a dandy.”
Father and son chuckled over this wisdom.
But strangely, it bothered Grace that David might care so much about appearances. She ran her hand across the lap of her sturdy navy work dress and sighed inaudibly. Was she jealous of David or simply disappointed? After all, hadn’t she always secretly scorned his ordinary, worn, farming clothes?
“Have you bought one of those new cars yet?” Mr. Matthews asked his son.
“I don’t need a car. The city offers great transportation, and I ride a train to work every day,” David stated. “I could get a good deal from the company, though, and may take advantage of it someday.”
Grace smothered a cough, thinking of her failed attempt to buy a car.
“I’m up for a promotion,” David told his father. “Supervisor. They could let me know by New Year’s.”
David’s father was thrilled, but Gracie wrestled with strangely troubled emotions as the car traveled through the frozen farmland. They crossed the railroad tracks at Station 15, and Grace recalled the awful day when she first learned that her brother Guy had been killed at that crossing. There had been little left of his barely used Chrysler.
“Yes, that’s the place,” Grace heard Mr. Matthews’s soft reply to a question David must have asked. “Such a tragedy.”
David turned and looked over the high seat back. “Gracie, I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t…I’m fine. He was your friend, too,” Grace said softly and quickly turned to avoid his eyes as she swallowed against the nauseating emptiness in her chest. She kept her defenses firmly in place. The less she talked about such things, the better she could cope.
Within a couple of miles they would be passing through Main Street in Tappan. The town had become a refuge to Grace after her big-city experience last summer. She hated to think that it would all be underwater someday, and she wondered how David would view the village in comparison to Detroit. Would he think that the small town was so little that it would be of little loss to the new lake?
“Look, there it is,” David called out, pointing to the new dam. “It’s huge. I can’t believe it’s done.” His voice reflected awe. Did she also detect regret, or was it just her wishful thinking? Misery enjoys company, Gracie realized.
She followed his pointing finger to the massive dirt and cement structure. The dam had been completed in October and was already collecting water that would eventually cover their beautiful valley.
“Has anyone moved yet?” David asked.
Mr. Matthews answered, “Just the Cloughs and the Masons since the dam went right through their properties. Most of the rest will go in the spring, while some will stay till the water pushes ’em out.”
Grace squirmed on the cold leather seat. Would it take a flood to move her family out?
It would have been hard for David not to notice the decline of the Rudmans’ once prosperous farm. Tall weeds lined the drive, still harboring traces of the last snow. Tractor and bulldozer tracks from the dam construction made muddy ruts across the western fields and through broken fence lines. The Rudmans’ remaining livestock were crowded into a barnyard pen.
Mr. Matthews pulled the car up along the side of the peeling farmhouse as Grace’s older brother John rushed out to meet them. “I’m sure glad you’re home, Grace,” he almost shouted. “Hey David, welcome back.”
David offered Grace a hand out of the backseat, but she seemed to shrink from his slightest touch.
John filled the sudden silence with annoying chatter. “Mother’s been like a ruffled hen all day long. She gets so anxious, and none of the church ladies were able to stop in and lend a hand today.”
Grace straightened her shoulders and marched through the kitchen door. David grabbed her small suitcase and started to follow her, but John stopped him.
“Let me take that. You’ll be wanting to get home.”
David stared at John, not understanding his cool welcome, and John ducked his head as if in shame.
David felt his father approach. “Son, I told you Mr. Rudman was sick, but…I failed to tell you that he isn’t getting better.”
“If that’s all, then I’ll see him now and not wait,” David said and sidestepped John to the door.
The kitchen was a jumble of half-finished projects. Biscuit dough was rolled out but not cut. Unwashed dishes were stacked in a sink full of soapy water, and the teakettle whistled on the old coal-fueled water heater. Grace stood in the middle of the room with her coat over her arm and her shoulders sagging.
“Grace,” Mrs. Rudman’s high-pitched voice preceded her pencil-thin body around the doorway, “your father will be so excited to see his little girl.”
She seemed like the same energetic woman David remembered as she fussed over her grown daughter, yet a veil of false gaiety shrouded any feelings of joy.
“Oh David!” Mrs. Rudman’s eyes teared immediately as she reached for the boy she had known in the man before her. “How I have longed to see you again. Guy will…well, we all want you to stay to supper.”
David ignored her slip. “I would love to, but I must go home to see my mother first.”
“Of course, I’m sure she has a whole spread laid out for your return,” Mrs. Rudman said.
“Is Mr. Rudman awake?” David asked. “I would like to say hello.”
“Well…he doesn’t take many visitors. He—” Mrs. Rudman stammered.
“I’ll just take a minute.”
“I wish you would wait until he is better,” Mrs. Rudman said sadly.
“Oh Mother,” Grace moaned with impatience, “I’ll take him in. You can’t keep all of Father’s friends away. You just don’t know if Father will—” Grace stopped as her mother’s face clouded.
Grace motioned for David to follow her and they entered the front parlor. A rocking chair was placed between the fireplace and the piano with a good view out the window toward the town in the east. But Grace’s father was leaning dangerously forward in the chair with his head rested against the windowpane so he could look to the west where the new dam hid the settin
g sun.
David quickly took hold of Mr. Rudman’s shoulders and eased him back into the chair. It was obvious that this man was not the robust farmer that David had once known. Grace straightened the quilt on her father’s lap as David surveyed the vacant look in the man’s eyes and the droop to the left side of his face.
“Hello, Father,” Grace soothed. “I brought an old friend.”
“Good to see you, Mr. Rudman,” David forced around the lump in his throat.
“David will be here for Christmas and will come to visit again.” Grace spoke clearly and precisely to her father, then led David back to the kitchen.
She stopped in the hall. “I’m sorry you weren’t told,” she managed to say without looking at him.
“When did the stroke occur?”
“The day of Guy’s death. That was the hardest blow, but he hadn’t really been the same since the conservancy first came to take the farm.” Her eyes shone, betraying the moisture that had gathered.
David longed to ease her stiff shoulders and comfort her, but it seemed as if she had placed a prickly wall between them. His hand reached for her.
She stepped back. “You’ll want to be getting home,” she offered and excused herself up the back stairs.
David promised Mrs. Rudman that he would return for a piece of her custard pie the next afternoon, then walked slowly to the car where his own father waited patiently. John’s car was gone; he had already taken off to follow his own whims. David wondered why John would leave so soon after his sister’s return home.
Oh Lord, how the Rudmans need Your comforting assurance, he prayed as he settled into the car.
Chapter 2
The waves were deep and numerous. Beams of winter sunlight highlighted their crests, while their troughs were rich in dark color. There would be no containing the waves, and they splashed out in every direction. Though wild, they invited the curious spectator to take a closer look.
