Mrs. Stewart picked up the photograph album and turned the pages, then pointed to a picture.
“Do you recognize that picture, Hope?”
“Oh, it’s Phil. But he’s much younger, his hair is dark, and—what a lovely girl!”
“Yes, she was lovely, Hope. That was Phil’s wife, Lorraine. She was as lovely in soul as in face. She was the dearest friend Eleanor ever had. Like my Chad, she is gone. Don’t you think it is a wonderful manifestation of God’s love and care that He enabled them to find the happiness they have, after such pain and grief as they once knew?”
“Ye-es. Do you like it this way, Mrs. Stewart?”
“Very much, dear. Eleanor is close to me. I love her as one of my own, and when Phil came to make her a happy wife again I truly rejoiced. Their wedding in our little church two years ago was one of the happiest days in my life—and theirs. Both had drunk deeply of sorrow, and I rejoiced in their joy. It isn’t that she forgot Chad nor that Phil ceased to remember Lorraine. Those two are blessed memories. Yet Phil and Eleanor are young and have many years of life ahead of them. They needed each other, and God gave them their love to make those years happy and fruitful for him.”
Hope picked up the framed picture again and studied it earnestly.
“It’s just like Eleanor, and yet it’s different. She was more beautiful then—younger, and so happy. She shines more now, though. You know what I mean, don’t you?”
“Yes, I think I do. One might think that she should ‘shine’ more in those carefree days with Chad before sorrow had touched her, but it isn’t outward circumstances that cause shining, Hope. We are like houses, I guess. All the outward shining of the sun only makes the windows look dark. But when blackness covers the earth a small light inside makes the windows glow. Eleanor shines now, not because her life has been so easy or untroubled, but because she has ‘Christ in her, the hope of glory.’ Not outward conditions, but inward peace brings that glow.”
“I’m beginning to see. Thank you for telling me. Do you think Eleanor and Phil would mind about me knowing?”
“Of course not. They would have mentioned it if it had occurred to them. They probably thought you realized it because of Chad’s name.”
“I don’t remember that anyone ever used his full name. I know now that Billy tried to tell me once and something interrupted her. I suppose I should have guessed. I am beginning to remember several other things. Chad once said he was going to be a doctor like his father. I thought he meant a Ph.D. or a D.D. I really have been rather stupid, I guess,” she finished with a laugh.
Bob and Marilyn came around the house with Bobby and Patty trailing behind them. Chad heard them talking and came running out to meet them. Mary Lou took the three children out on the lawn for a romp, while Bob and Marilyn came up the steps.
“Do you think we could talk to Eleanor yet, Mother?” asked Bob. “We’ve tried to tell Phil how we feel about what they did, and we’ve told Chad what a grand little scout he was, but we’d like Eleanor to know that we realize how nearly she came to giving her life for our boy.”
“When she wakes up I know she will be ready to see you. If anything had been needed to make Eleanor and Philip a part of the Stewart family, this has done it. We will never forget it, and as long as I live Phil shall be another son to me. Eleanor was already my daughter, but she’s dearer now than before, if possible.”
33
For several days Hope went about her work more silently than usual. She seemed eager to pour out her devotion on Eleanor and the babies, and Eleanor understood that some sort of crisis had been reached in their relations. The wall of reserve that had always been between them was gone, and although Hope did not explain what had happened, Eleanor knew that when the time was fully ripe, the confidence would come. Even though no word was spoken about it, there was a closeness in their friendship that had never been before, a sympathy between them that needed no words.
“I haven’t the least idea what happened,” Eleanor wrote to Phil. “I just know that the wall over which I used to get just an occasional glimpse has been torn down, and I am finding Hope to be a most charming and lovable girl. I long to know if things are cleared up between her and Stan, but I shan’t force the confidence. I will just enjoy her and let her tell me all about it when she feels like it.”
Connie and Dick and little Paul came, and the house seemed full of babies. Hope’s hands and feet were kept busy, and there was little time for thought of herself and her problems. There was fruit to be picked and canned, meals to be cooked and served not only to the large family but also to the two patients in the upstairs hospital. There were babies to be bathed and fed, and laundry—oh, so much of it—to be done. Day after day there was no time for Hope to go off alone and “sort out her thoughts,” as she had promised herself she would do. Night after night she resolved to lie awake and think, only to fall asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow. But, although she knew that eventually she must face her situation and decide her future course, she was not worried. For the first time in her life Hope knew a sense of peace.
Then suddenly her busy days were over. The two patients had gone home, and Mother Stewart had decided to take no more until fall. Connie and Dick left for their home in another state, and the house seemed, as Mary Lou said, “almost deserted with only two babies to care for.” Eleanor was about the house, active as ever, helping with the work and looking forward to Phil’s vacation, at the close of which they would go back to the city. There seemed no further need for Hope’s services here, and nothing had been said about plans for the fall work at the Institute. A letter from her grandfather said that if she wanted a load of watermelons delivered to the city, it must be next week, as the crop was now fully ripe. She certainly did want to see that truck full of watermelons distributed, so she must write Katie to expect her back on Sherman Street. After that … Hope did not know.
On the following day another letter came—this one from
Stan.
Dear Hope,
I’ve been good and tried not to bother you, but we’re getting nowhere fast at this rate. You have had plenty of time to ponder and resolve all the questions you can possibly think of, and still you dodge the issue. So I’m taking the situation in hand. If I don’t hear from you by the time I think I should—and I’ll decide when that is—and if you don’t say what I want you to say, I’m coming up. Don’t think I don’t mean it. I do. If you say what I want you to, I’ll try to wait to see you until you come back to peddle your watermelon crop. I’ve been watching the markets, and I know when to expect you. But if I don’t like your verdict I’ll be up and carry you off anyway. I’ll show you that my jalopy is just as romantic and twice as efficient as Lochinvar’s nag. I won’t waste paper telling you that I love you. When I get there I’ll demonstrate and make you believe it. I don’t intend ever to be separated so long from you again. I am no good to anyone with you so far away. So I am going to eliminate the distance. Pronto!
Stan
P.S. Billy and Ben say hello. He is here for the weekend, and they make me jealous. Here’s a new verse to my song. Bill says it is of very inferior quality. I think she’s jealous.
Oh my fickle Wilhelmina!
Needn’t think she is so smart.
Though she left me lone and lonely,
I have Hope within my heart.
P.S. No. 2. Seriously—I am praying that whatever it was that caused the shadow in your eyes and put fear and doubt into your heart will be banished so that the girl God meant you to be can give herself to me as I think she longs to. Are you praying for the same thing?
S.
Hope intended to answer that letter at once, for she did not feel ready to meet Stan. When she sat down to write, however, she found that she could not put on paper the things that were in her heart. For several days she delayed, until she awoke one day to the realization that she must hurry back to the Institute to meet Grandpa and the watermelons. She must catch the bus
tomorrow morning, so that afternoon after finishing her packing she went to the orchard for apples to take to Romilda and Katie.
Hope filled her basket, but instead of returning to the house she lingered on. It was pleasant in the fragrant sunshine with fallen apples laying all about in the deep grass, with the bees humming and the birds chirping their drowsy songs above her. She sat down where a fallen tree made an armchair and rested in lazy contentment. Here was the quiet she had been seeking. The thoughts that had been pushed to the back of her mind came thrusting themselves forward, and she found herself ready to face them.
Her entire perspective had been changed by that Sunday afternoon talk with Mrs. Stewart. Oh, probably it had begun months before. All winter long as she had worked and lived with the folks in the Palace, she had been changing. Not all at once, but a bit at a time. At times she had seemed to grow and then again had slipped backward and lost the ground gained. It had been an indecisive battle, now gaining, now losing. That revelation from Mrs. Stewart of the sorrow that had been Eleanor’s had swept away the murky shadows in her thinking and let the full light in. Eleanor, whom she had envied for her carefree life!
What a waste Hope’s own life had been! All because she had held in her heart pride and resentment that had no right there. As she looked back now she knew that it had started from Lucille’s foolish remark, “No stepmother ever loves a child.” She never should have even thought of it again, and yet she had remembered it and believed it and let it spoil her childhood. She had grieved Daddy and Mother Bess when they had been trying to love and help her. How patient they had been! One incident after another passed through her mind, recalling their thoughtful kindness and their efforts to win her to themselves. Her cheeks flushed and tears of shame came to her eyes as she remembered her rude rebuffs to those efforts. How could they have borne with her? How could she have been bitter against those who had been so good to her?
Hope recalled how magnanimous she had felt last winter when deciding to forgive them. Forgive them for what? For loving her and caring for her? For forbearing and forgiving when she had been rude and thankless? Why, she had nothing to forgive, but much—oh much—for which to be forgiven. Suddenly she longed to be back there with them. She wanted to feel Daddy’s arms around her and to hear the pride in his voice as he said “my daughter,” just as he used to. She wanted to put her head in Mother Bess’s lap and cry away all the sorrow for her selfish willfulness.
The way was plain before her now. She knew what she wanted. When she met Grandpa at the Institute she was going home with him! She was going back to be Daddy’s girl a while, to help Mother Bess and learn from her the things she needed to know to become just such a wife as she was, to be a big sister to Jack and Judy, and to face those who had seen her defeat and show them what victory in Christ could do for even His weakest child. And Stan? Oh, Stan would understand. That was the dearest thing about Stan—his sympathetic understanding. He could come to see her there in her own home, and they could have a year of planning for the happiness they would have together. That was as it should be.
Hope thought of all the fears that had made her life miserable. How senseless they seemed now. The things that had frightened her had, in reality, been evidences of God’s love and care for her. Daddy’s marriage had been God’s way of providing her with a mother. What a pleasant childhood she could have had, had she accepted the gift! Even the loss of Jerry, though it seemed to break her heart at the time, was a blessing. Now she knew that God was preparing her for the love of a much better and nobler man. The unpleasant incidents of Mr. Skeen and the landlady were the things God used to turn her to Sherman Street and the Institute.
Why, one didn’t need to fear anything! Whatever came, God would be in it and would make it right even if it seemed hard to bear and to understand. If one were in Christ, nothing could reach him unless it came through Christ, and only His will would be the portion of those who rested quietly in Him. That was why Eleanor shone. That was why she could face death, as she had a few weeks ago, and never falter. That was why Phil could keep on swimming with Chad, even though he knew that Eleanor, whom he loved better than his life, was in terrible danger. They lived in Christ, and in Him there was no fear. The glory and the wonder of it lighted Hope’s face. She thought of old Sam and how triumphantly he died that another might live. She recalled a chorus he used to sing as he went about his work. Softly she sang it.
“Nothing to fear, nothing to fear!
Tho’ skies are dark and earth’s deserts drear.
Hid is my life in God with Christ,
I’m safe forever, I’ve nothing to fear.”
As she ceased singing a twig snapped behind her, and she turned quickly. Stan was watching her, and at the look of glad welcome that sprang into her eyes he came close and put his arms around her.
“Hope, honey, I don’t know what has happened. The shadows are gone, and your face is lit up with glory. Or dare I hope it’s love?”
She drew in a tremulous breath and let her head rest on his shoulder. The need for evasion was gone. She was not afraid to let her eyes tell the story.
“It is love, Stan, and it’s glory too. I’ve just begun to comprehend God’s love, and it is glorious, isn’t it?”
“It is. We’ll never comprehend it all, but we’ll spend a lifetime trying. And what about my love, Hope? It’s been yours for a long time, and I’m longing to hear you say you love me. You do, don’t you, even if I’m not much to claim a princess in the tower?”
“You’re all I want, Stan.”
“You didn’t say you loved me, though.”
“You know it. You said so.”
“You still haven’t said it.”
“Must I?”
“Please.”
She drew back and looked straight into his eyes. Her own eyes were shining. The shadows had lifted. The joy and love and trust inside shone out and lit the windows that would never be dark again.
“With all my heart, forever and always, Stan, I love you!”
Also available by Francena H. Arnold
FRANCENA H. ARNOLD was a schoolteacher, talented storyteller, mother of four children, and author of ten novels. Her first novel, Not My Will, was originally written “just for the eyes of the family” and has since sold more than 500,000 copies.
In the following pages, you’ll be able to read about other books by Francena offered from Moody Publishers.
Jack-o’-lantern House
Kathy is sent to the country for her junior year of high school while her parents are in England. Though she quickly adapts to her new surroundings, Kathy is sorely disappointed in the rude, sulky boy who also lives at her cousins’ house. In this story of companionship, family, and trust, a mystery is solved.
A Brother Beloved
Joyce Matthews raised her beloved younger brother, Gene, after the death of both their parents. Much to Joyce’s dismay, however, a year in military service behind the iron curtain seems to have completely changed his personality. This haunting drama includes Joyce’s cry for help and God’s faithful answer.
Then Am I Strong
JoAnne, an orphan, is dependent upon her close friend Nona, but when Nona leaves, her insecurities and fears lead her to shift dependence to her friend Dave. In this story of encouragement and hope, even through difficult circumstances, JoAnne begins to understand Christ’s words, “Lo, I am with you always.”
Straight Down a Crooked Lane
A love-at-first-sight meeting between Mary Jo and Jack leads to a rash, young marriage. Reality soon hits the excited newlyweds. Yet from their despair and despondency come the desire and ability to learn how to follow God’s path instead of their own.
The Road Winds On
Andy, a doctor, plans to go to Africa to help his father in medical missionary work. He is crushed when the nurse he loves, Kay, breaks off their engagement. Conflict, desire, decision, and love all pervade Andy’s—and Kay’s—search for God’s leading. Will Go
d resolve their individual and collective pursuits?
Three Shall Be One
In spite of difficult circumstances in the first few years of marriage, Tony and Linda never doubted each other’s love. Until Tony’s controlling mother arrives. A compelling drama of the unexpected seems to seal off any return to their early married happiness, yet an astounding chain of events sets them on the path to restoration.
The Light in My Window
Hope Thompson is new to the big city. However, instead of finding fulfillment in her work and service, she is bitter and struggles with herself, with God, and with her love for Stan. Sequel to the bestselling Not My Will, this dynamic story is one of searching, discovery, and peace.
Not My Will
Eleanor’s secret love for Chad could mean losing her inheritance and giving up a life-long dream. Will she follow her own will or make the hard choice to submit her life to Christ’s leadership? Now available with a contemporary new look, Not My Will is a classic story of love, loss, and surrender.
Not My Will and The Light in My Window Page 47
