Not My Will and The Light in My Window

by Francena H. Arnold

Worn with her mental and spiritual battle, Eleanor undressed and was asleep almost as soon as her head touched the pillow. She was awakened by the sharp, insistent ringing of the telephone. As she reached for her housecoat she glanced at the clock and then at the empty pillow beside her on the bed. Two o’clock and Chad not home! Sudden panic swept over her, and her hand trembled as she took up the receiver.

  “Miss Stewart?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is Memorial Hospital. Your brother has been slightly injured and is here. He is asking for you. Can you come?”

  “Yes—oh, yes, I’ll be there right away!”

  She dialed a number and asked for a cab, then dressed with feverish haste. Her brother—Chad, of course. He would give his name and ask them to call her, and they would conclude she was his sister.

  Eleanor told the driver to go as fast as he could, then huddled into a corner of the backseat and tried to pray. She could only manage to whisper through tight lips, “Oh, Chad, wait for me—I’m coming!”

  Up the hospital steps she flew. She gave her name to the night clerk, and he motioned her to a room where she was met by an intern in white.

  “Miss Stewart? Your brother is calling for you. We’ll go right up. Be as quiet as you can.”

  “Is he—is it bad?”

  “We can’t say yet. He was brought in after having been found on the sidewalk, apparently struck by a drunken hit-and-run driver. We don’t know how long he had been there, but he is suffering from exposure. We’ve had him in the emergency room, but we’ll have to wait until morning for a more thorough examination. Perhaps your being here will quiet him now. He seems very restless and troubled.”

  The intern stopped before a large white door. Eleanor caught her quivering lip between her teeth, drew a long breath, and then approached the high bed behind the screen.

  Chad lay there, looking as quiet and still as though he were asleep, but when he heard Eleanor’s soft steps he opened his eyes and smiled tenderly. “Ellen! I knew you’d come.”

  “Oh, my dear, what have they done to you?”

  She leaned over and kissed him, and he closed his eyes again in happy relief.

  Drawing up a hard, straight-backed chair, Eleanor sat by the side of the bed and took Chad’s hand in her own. It was cold and limp; so different from the strong hand that had held hers a few hours before. Choking back the tears, she sat quietly while minutes dragged past. She thought Chad was asleep, but when she changed the cramped position of her arm, he opened his eyes and in a faraway, quiet voice, said, “Ellen.”

  “Here, dear.”

  “Will you do something for me?”

  “Of course. Just tell me, Chad. I’ll do everything I can.”

  “I think I’ll be all right soon. I’m not feeling so bad … just tired. But Mother ought to know. Will you call Dean Harrison and have him call home?”

  “Just as soon as morning comes.”

  “Call Professor Merritt too. I won’t be able to go to the lab for a few days, probably. And … Ellen?”

  “Yes, dear heart.”

  “There’s something else. Bob may come when the Dean calls, and maybe Mom too. They’ll go to my room at Merritt’s.” Chad’s breath was coming in short gasps. Eleanor tried to stop him, but he shook away her restraining hand. “No—let me speak. When you feel like it I want you to let folks know we’re married, but not until then. If the folks come and don’t find any of my things there, they’ll wonder. Ellen, take my clothes and books back there so they won’t know.”

  “Yes—yes, I will. Now, dear, you must be quiet. I’ll stay until you go to sleep.”

  Ellen sat quietly stroking the dear hand until Chad’s heavy breathing told her that he was really asleep. She was beginning to put her wraps on quietly when the intern came in.

  “We gave him a heavy opiate,” he said. “He will probably sleep several hours. We have a room here where you can lie down if you wish.”

  “No,” Ellen replied reluctantly. “If he will sleep I have some messages to send and some errands to attend to. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

  It was with numb hands and a heart wrung with grief that Eleanor hastily packed Chad’s clothes and books and a few other belongings into suitcases in order to carry them back to his old room. Will he ever wear them again? she wondered, looking with swimming eyes at the shirts she had ironed—was it yesterday? It seemed such a long time ago.

  The taxi driver helped her move the boxes and suitcases up to the room over the garage, and then, while he waited below, she hurriedly hung the suits in the closet, laid the shirts in the drawers, piled books on the table and shelves, and even hung the laundry bag with its soiled garments on a hook in the closet.

  At the hospital once more, she sat motionless by the bedside for several hours, never tiring of watching the beloved face on the pillow. At eight o’clock she called Dean Harrison and Professor Merritt, then resumed her post.

  And her thoughts during these long hours of waiting? Eleanor lived again and again through the events of the preceding day, each time arriving at her final decision with a more bitter regret. She had been wrong. Deliberately. She had rejected the loving fellowship of the Master, and now He was letting her suffer. All the money in the world didn’t mean anything compared with Chad. All she wanted now was to tell the whole world she was his own, his happy wife. If he would only get well again they would face the world together. Everything would be all right.

  Eleanor bowed her head in her hands and prayed silently. Oh, God, if You’ll just save Chad and give him back to me, I’ll give You all I have forever.

  Reaching up, she unfastened the chain about her neck and slipped from it her wedding ring. For another hour she sat holding it in her hand, waiting with her heart beating hard for the moment when Chad’s eyes would open.

  He stirred at last and opened his eyes to meet Ellen’s smile and soft words, “Better, dear?”

  “I’m fine now. I just feel light and empty. I probably need something to eat. Did you get everything taken care of?”

  “All done. Don’t worry about a thing.”

  “I won’t,” Chad said obediently.

  Eleanor drew in a quick breath and said, “Chad-would you do something for me?”

  “Of course, dear, if I can.”

  Eleanor opened her hand, and Chad saw the little gold ring lying in her palm. Then she held out her left hand. Will you put it on—where it belongs?”

  A glad smile, almost unbelieving, illumined Chad’s face. With unsteady fingers he picked up the ring, then looked for a long moment into her eyes and said, “Is it all right now?”

  “All right,” she answered tremulously.

  Chad slipped the wedding ring on her finger, then pressed her hand to his lips. “Mrs. Charles Stewart, in public as well as in private,” he whispered with a little of his old gaiety. Then, with a grateful smile, he added, “Oh, Ellen, Christ did solve the problem when we let Him.”

  All day he slept, and Eleanor did not leave him. Once the nurse came in and told her softly that a Dean Harrison and a Professor Merritt had called downstairs but had not been permitted to come up to Mr. Stewart’s room. Dean Harrison had left a message that the young man’s brother would arrive that evening.

  As the afternoon wore on, and Chad still slept, a heavy foreboding took possession of Eleanor’s heart.

  When the rosy sunset light filled the white room, Chad finally opened his eyes again and smiled. “It is all right, isn’t it, Ellen?”

  “All right, dearest.”

  When the nurse came in a few moments later, Eleanor was on her knees by the bedside, and Chad lay smiling peacefully. Eleanor looked up questioningly as the nurse reached for his pulse and then turned away. He had fallen asleep once more. But this time he would not wake.

  All that night Eleanor walked around the apartment with wide, tearless eyes. From one room to the other she wandered, dwelling on every minute of the day just passed. It couldn’t be tru
e! She’d wake up in the morning and see Chad’s tousled head on the pillow, and they would have a good laugh over her nightmare. God didn’t let things like this happen. Hadn’t she told Him that if He’d save Chad she would love and serve Him forever? Didn’t He want her life in service? Maybe He thought she wasn’t worthy of Chad. She hadn’t been, of course, but she was trying, and with Chad helping her she could have grown into something worthwhile.

  But He had rejected her. He had heard her promise and then taken Chad away. He had left her all alone, for there was nothing left. Did people go on living like this? Would the body keep moving with the heart completely dead?

  She had laughed at Chad for taking out life insurance. People like him, young and strong, didn’t die. Old people died. But Chad was dead, and she had never had a chance to tell a soul she was his wife. God hadn’t heard her prayer. Then her promise to Him was void!

  Relieved of that promise, she would go back to the life she had known before Chad entered it. In all this awful crash, one thing remained—her work. From now on she would work, work, work—and forget. Perhaps some day this painfully wonderful year would be blotted out of her memory. Surely if one practiced forgetting, practiced hard and continually, one could forget!

  Chad’s things were gone from the apartment, and she was glad. They would only have brought back painful memories. As soon as possible she would leave, too, and go somewhere in the city where no one knew her. She would go to Chad’s funeral, of course, and tell him good-bye forever, and then she would set to work.

  As the light of a new day began to dawn, Eleanor saw on the table Chad’s Bible, which she had forgotten to carry away. Well, if she had renounced God, she certainly did not want His Book lying around. Without opening it she thrust it quickly into the back of a dresser drawer. She would send it to Chad’s mother. She was the kind of person who pleased God by taking His chastenings meekly; she would have more use for the Bible. Eleanor didn’t intend to read it anymore.

  Suddenly she stood transfixed as her gaze rested on the narrow gold band on her left hand. A long moment she hesitated, then with a quick gesture slipped it off. Finding the blue velvet box it had come in, she replaced it in its satin bed, then snapped the cover shut.

  Early that morning she telephoned Carolyn Fleet. Trying to keep her voice even, she said, “Carolyn, remember Chad Stewart? He died last night after being struck by an automobile. I suppose the funeral will be back at his home. I want to go, but not alone. If you and Fred will make the trip with me, I will pay your expenses and for the time you lose from your teaching.”

  “Oh, my dear!” answered Carolyn. She had always wondered how things stood between Eleanor and Chad. “I’m so sorry. Can I come and stay with you today? I can do it easily.”

  “I don’t want you to miss school.”

  “That’s quite all right. I’m coming up as soon as I can get there. What is your address now?”

  Eleanor gave her the address dully, realizing that Carolyn would never guess by the appearance of the apartment that Chad had lived there until two nights before.

  When Carolyn arrived, intending to comfort Eleanor as best she could, she found a difficult task confronting her. Eleanor was so poised and quiet the older woman was at a loss for words. Although Carolyn had never suspected their true relationship, she knew that Eleanor and Chad had been deeply attached to each other, and this stony calm on Eleanor’s part perplexed her.

  In the afternoon they went together to the university chapel where the quiet figure was to lie for a few hours before starting the journey home. Chad looked so peaceful and happy that Carolyn found it hard to realize it was death she was looking upon. Eleanor took one or two deep breaths but otherwise showed no emotion at all. A few other students who had been in the chapel departed quietly when they saw “Stewart’s girlfriend” come in, and in a short time Carolyn too slipped out unobtrusively, leaving Eleanor alone with her dead.

  When Carolyn finally re-entered the chapel, Eleanor was sitting quietly in a seat, her eyes fixed on the stained-glass window. She left with Carolyn without a backward glance.

  Through the long hours of the night as they traveled on the jerky little train that bore them northward, Eleanor lay back against the pillow she had rented from the conductor and kept her eyes closed. Only occasional restlessness gave evidence that she was not asleep.

  Fred and Carolyn, in the seat across the aisle, slept fitfully. Whenever they wakened they turned anxious eyes on the girl and were vaguely disturbed by her unnatural quietness.

  In the early morning they alighted at the little town and rested for a few hours before going out to the country church where the service was to be held. Carolyn and Fred tried to talk, but they soon realized that Eleanor did not hear them, and, feeling that she desired it, they left her alone.

  That afternoon as they drove over the gravel roads running between fields of dry stubble and through timberland, Carolyn chatted idly with Fred, who sat by the driver. If addressed, Eleanor replied politely, but the rest of the time she sat quietly. But her thoughts were busy. Remembering Chad’s description of them, she identified with mixed emotions the big brick high school where Chad had studied for four years, the country road over which he had walked every day, the bridge from which he had once dived and almost lost his life, the fields where he had toiled during the summer, and finally, the church with the cemetery on the hill behind it.

  As they entered the church, Carolyn became conscious that many pairs of eyes followed the “city strangers.” Ellen walked as if alone, her eyes fixed on the flower-banked couch at the front, and Carolyn had to touch her arm to lead her to a seat. A young woman was playing softly on the upright piano, and the church was rapidly filling. Eleanor was beginning to wonder how long she could endure this hush when a sober-faced little group came down the aisle and occupied the pews that had been reserved at the front.

  Eleanor recognized them immediately. The white-haired woman was Chad’s beloved mom. The tall, dark young man was Bob, and the girl who resembled him, sister Connie. A pair of long, blonde braids identified Chad’s “special” little sister, Mary Lou. The other girl in the pew was probably Bob’s fiancée, Marilyn. Eleanor wondered what would happen if she were to walk over and seat herself at Marilyn’s side—if she should tell the family and friends that she had been nearest and dearest to Chad. In order to keep her thoughts away from that quiet figure at the front, she went over and over the possibilities of this scene until she feared she would actually speak out.

  Then she looked out the window, and the watchful Carolyn saw such a spasm of pain cross her face that she slipped an arm around Eleanor’s shoulders. Glancing out the window, she tried to ascertain the cause of the distress, but all she saw was a small country churchyard with tombstones tipped at all degrees, and in one corner a rustic bench under a tree.

  The service was not one of morbid grief. The young people grouped around the piano sang hymns of hope and assurance, and the same note was echoed in the brief message. The preacher was even joyful as he told of the spiritual experiences Chad had described to him the previous summer.

  Tall youths, Chad’s friends, carried him up the hill to his last resting place, while the young folk at the head of the procession sang again “Asleep in Jesus, Blessed Sleep.” Eleanor would not look at the grave but stood at the edge of the crowd. Just as the minister’s voice ceased, she heard a shrill, childish voice cry out, “Oh, Mommy, I don’t want them to do that to my Chad!”

  Sobbing little Mary Lou was lifted into brother Bob’s arms, where she buried her head against his shoulder.

  As the quiet group moved away, Carolyn said, “Will you go with me to speak to Chad’s mother, Eleanor?”

  “No! And if anyone tries to speak to me, don’t let him!” She walked swiftly to the bench in the corner, waiting for Carolyn to rejoin her. Without a glance at the flower-heaped mound, she went away.

  After Fred and Carolyn had left Eleanor at her apartment, Carolyn sa
id, “There’s more to this than we know, Fred. This isn’t any ordinary grief we’ve seen. If Eleanor doesn’t relax and let herself have a good cry, her nerves will snap.”

  “We’ll have to keep in touch with her and try to cheer her up,” Fred responded.

  Fred and Carolyn fully intended to keep this good resolution, but a sudden illness on the part of their son, in addition to the responsibilities of teaching school, diverted their energies, and weeks passed before they had time for her again.

  On Friday morning, to the surprise of Professor Nichols, Eleanor appeared in the laboratory as usual.

  “Miss Eleanor, I am at a loss for words that would console you on the loss of your young friend,” he began uncertainly. “If you would like to take a short interlude of several days before starting your work—”

  “Thank you, Professor Nichols,” a quiet voice replied. “The best consolation I can find is in my work. Do you mind if I stay here all day and continue last week’s experiments?”

  Last week! Eleanor thought. Was that when I left this work unfinished to go off into a different world with a boy I once knew? Was last week Thanksgiving, and was Chad here?

  She resumed her work diligently, and the old gentleman began to wonder whether he had been mistaken about her having cared for the Stewart boy, since she was apparently so indifferent to his tragic death.

  * * *

  The proofs of the book had been returned. There was much painstaking labor ahead for both the professor and his assistant, and into it they now plunged wholeheartedly. The professor tired quickly these days, so Eleanor found herself bearing the heavy end of the burden, checking and rechecking the precious pages that had to be so accurate. But hard work left little time for wandering thoughts, for which she was thankful.

  On Sunday morning Eleanor cleaned the apartment in desperation. Windows, cupboards, and floors were scrubbed until they shone. As lunchtime approached, Eleanor dared not trust herself to sit down alone at the table, so she made a cheese sandwich and ate it as she walked about. In the afternoon she began to mend, although there was no further need of practicing such economy. After an hour had passed, Eleanor rose and went to a drawer to find some hose that needed darning. There lay a pair of Chad’s socks.