Groom by Design

by Christine Johnson

  Ruth’s hand shook as the errors of the past two weeks mounted. “I’ve failed, Mother. I tried so hard to save the dress shop and pay the debts, but it’s all come to naught and now Daddy had to come home and he won’t get the treatments he needs and he’ll die because I failed.”

  The bowl slipped from her fingers and thudded against the bottom of the washbasin. Mother enveloped her as the sobs came.

  “Hush, hush now.” Mother rubbed her back. “It’s all right. Everything’s going to be all right.”

  “I don’t see how.”

  Mother kissed the top of her head before holding her at arm’s length. “We seldom see how, but the Lord knows, and He’s right here beside those of us who love Him. He’s here with us this very minute, and He’s with your father.”

  Ruth took off her tearstained glasses. “I know, but it’s hard sometimes.”

  Mother cupped her chin. “Of course it is, child. This life isn’t meant to be easy, but God will see us through. Remember, He will never give us more than we can bear.”

  Ruth wiped her glasses on her apron. “What if Daddy doesn’t get better?”

  “Then we will press on until we join him one day. You must believe this, Ruth. You must hold it dear in your heart. Your father loves the Lord and is ready to join Him when his time comes. We must be strong for him.”

  “And the dress shop?”

  “Ah, dear child, what is a shop compared to our love for each other? We must fix our attention on the Lord and our loved ones, and all else will fall away.”

  Mother’s grace in the face of loss humbled Ruth. “Maybe you’re right.”

  Mother lifted Ruth’s chin. “God has a plan for your life, Ruth, a great and glorious plan.”

  Ruth averted her eyes. “If He does, I don’t know what it could be.”

  “Then we will pray for God’s guidance. He will show us the path He has chosen. Do you believe that with all your heart?”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  “Will you trust in the Lord’s plan for your life?”

  Ruth hesitated before whispering, “Yes, Mother.”

  “Even if He tells you to go where you’re afraid to tread?”

  Was Mother suggesting Ruth risk even worse pain to work for Sam? She must apologize to him, surely, but work in his store, the one that had destroyed the dress shop and forced her father to leave lifesaving treatments? She couldn’t.

  “Ruth?” Mother caught her attention. “Only God knows the best path. You must trust Him.”

  Ruth wanted to. Truly, she did. As long as that path didn’t include Sam.

  * * *

  Sam couldn’t return to the store to face Father. The boardinghouse offered no comfort, and he had no one to talk this out with. Sam had to deal with Ruth’s dismissal alone. Not only did her words sting, but he’d also managed to lose his only friend in this town. His best friend.

  He wandered the streets, oblivious to those who greeted him. No store window could suggest an answer. He glanced at the church. Years ago he would have found consolation there, but he’d stopped believing in God’s grace after Lillian’s betrayal and death. Today, the prim little church beckoned, and for a moment he considered crossing the street to slip inside its doors. But then Pastor Gabe opened the door. Embarrassed, Sam hurried down the street, hands in pockets and face averted, before the minister spotted him.

  The street ended at the little park where he’d picnicked with Ruth and her sisters. The warmth and love of that family had woven so thoroughly into his heart that tugging a single thread had ripped open a gaping hole. He had wanted this above everything. This love. This concern for each other. This closeness. He’d dared to hope he could get it, but Ruth had shoved him away. Just like Lillian. Both times he’d tried so hard to please the woman he loved. Both times he’d failed.

  He hurried across the freshly mowed grass and past the ball field. The crack of a bat connecting with the ball sent up shouts and cheers from the kids participating. A double, if the center fielder got there quickly enough. Sam paused long enough to see the skinny boy throw the ball in a great arc to the second baseman, who let the ball bounce past his glove. Cheers turned into jeers. Just like life.

  He ducked around the pavilion and away from the boys’ cries. Here, tall trees filtered the hot sun. Dapples of sunlight danced upon the undergrowth. A cool breeze blew up from the river. The path leading to the water was deserted in the heat of midday. He walked to the platform overlooking the river without seeing a soul. The water below passed at a steady clip. It burbled over and around scattered rocks and ran deep black at the center.

  Black as his heart. The blinders fell away, and he could see every fault clearly. So many deceptions. He’d filled his life with them. Ruth was right. He’d lied by omission. And he’d lied to himself, thinking it didn’t matter. So many excuses, and not one of them was valid. What a mess he’d made of things. Again. Hadn’t he learned anything in eight years?

  How could I, Lord?

  He tossed a dead birch leaf into the water. It bobbed up and down as it made its way downstream. Could he throw away his faults and wrongdoings that easily? Baptism was supposed to wash away sin, but Sam had been baptized years ago. Yet he still floundered and failed. A whole tree couldn’t supply enough leaves to account for his mistakes. What could wash away that mess?

  Jesus can.

  Pastor Gabe had said that on Sunday. Sam knew the truth of the minister’s words. He’d heard it often, but until this moment he’d never really wanted it. That kind of gift came with a price tag, and he didn’t want to pay what God was sure to demand. Sam could get by on his own terms. He did not surrender control. Pastor Gabe insisted that was the way to peace. Turn over the reins to God. The idea had sounded ludicrous until Ruth had cast him off. When he’d lost her, he’d lost the most precious thing this world had ever brought into his life. With Ruth beyond reach, he no longer cared about the price. He had nothing of value left to lose.

  A narrow path led down the bank to the water’s edge. Fallen leaves lined it. Plenty for his sins. If he could reach the water, he could throw every wrongdoing away. Sam plowed down the path, braving the overhanging branches that whipped his face and arms. At last he stood in the spongy soil at river’s edge. He grabbed a handful of leaves off the ground.

  “God, forgive me for getting angry at Lillian.” He tossed the first leaf.

  “And for hating her.” Another leaf.

  He recalled his late wife’s contemptuous rebuke. You only care about your precious company. Was that true? Had he been cold and unfeeling in his quest to prove himself? But he’d done what any man would do. What Father had done. And he’d done it for her. He’d given her diamonds and the most expensive gowns. Yet she threw it all in his face and left with Ned. What did Sam’s best friend have that Sam didn’t? Time. Ned had treated Lillian like a rare flower, while Sam had been engrossed with earning his father’s approval.

  Sam tossed another leaf into the swirling water. “For not being the kind of husband Lillian needed.”

  The admission brought only a moment of relief. He’d done the same to Ruth. In both cases, he’d tried to be what he thought they needed, not who he truly was. He’d played the role of rescuer instead of entrusting them with his heart.

  “Forgive me for hurting Ruth.” He tossed an entire handful of leaves into the water but felt no relief.

  Surrender everything.

  The pastor had said it in his sermon. Sam knew the man was right. But how to do it?

  As the water gurgled past, an idea came to mind. He kicked off his shoes and stepped into the stream. The cold water made him gasp. But water could wash away stains.

  “Lousy place for a swim.” Pastor Gabe’s comment seared through Sam.

  Why would God let anyone interrupt this moment?

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nbsp; “Rocky bottom, but the boys like to swim here anyway,” the minister said. “They’re the ones who made this path.” Judging from the crackling of branches behind Sam, Pastor Gabe was coming down that path.

  Sam did not want company. “I’m not planning to swim.”

  “You’re in the water.”

  “I’m wading.” Sam refused to look at Gabe, hoping he’d get the hint and leave.

  “Must feel good on a hot day.” The pastor splashed in behind Sam.

  Apparently Pastor Gabe was not the sort who took a hint.

  “I wanted some time alone to think things through.” In case the pastor missed the point, Sam repeated, “I think best when it’s quiet.”

  “Me, too.” The pastor drew up beside him. “Nothing like a bracing swim to sort things out.”

  Sam hazarded a glance. The minister wore dark trousers and a white shirt rolled up to the elbows. No hat. No jacket, but still formal enough for the office. “In street clothes?”

  Pastor Gabe shrugged. “Felicity will probably have my head, but sometimes it’s worth the risk.” Without waiting for Sam’s reply, he plunged beneath the water in a clean dive and popped up midstream. “Care to join me?”

  Sam hadn’t dived since he was a boy. He recalled with intense clarity the mountain house at Lake Minnewaska, the lake clear as glass. How he’d loved to run down to the water, race out the dock and dive off the end.

  “Come on,” the pastor urged. “See if you can beat that dive.”

  “Are you challenging me?” Sam countered. “Because if you are, I have to tell you that I could beat any boy at Lake Minnewaska.”

  “Prove it.”

  Sam couldn’t resist. He ripped off his jacket and hat and tossed them on shore. Then he crouched and sprang through the air, the old form coming back. The cold water slammed into him like a rock. Every muscle tensed, but he was going to beat the pastor’s dive. With three strong kicks, he pushed through the water. Eyes open, he scanned for his opponent, bubbles trailing past his face until his lungs ached. He popped to the surface and gasped for air.

  “Good one,” Pastor Gabe said. “With one more kick, you would have beaten me.”

  Sam swiped the water from his eyes. He couldn’t believe it, but the pastor stood an arm’s length distant in chest-deep water. Sam struggled to his feet. “How did you get so far? You’re shorter than me. I should have been able to outkick you.”

  Gabe grinned. “Maybe I’m not carrying such a heavy weight.”

  “Heavy weight? I took my jacket off.”

  “Not in there. In here.” Gabe pointed to his heart.

  Sam stiffened. “Why would you think something’s bothering me?”

  “It’s not every day I see someone standing in the river throwing out leaves and asking for forgiveness.”

  Sam cringed at the thought of what the pastor must have heard. “That was private.”

  “And it’ll stay that way. I’m a pastor, remember?”

  Sam had to concede that point, but he still felt uncomfortable knowing he’d revealed his wretched past in front of the man. At least, as Gabe had said, he was a minister and would keep this between them. And now that the damage was done...

  Sam couldn’t hold on to the pain any longer. “My late wife died in a motorcar accident. She ran off with her...lover.” The word sat bitter on his tongue.

  “I remember it from the newspapers.”

  That caught Sam by surprise.

  “I was still in New York at the time,” Pastor Gabe added.

  “Oh.” Sam stared at the river. “I know that I should have gotten over it by now, but I can’t seem to stop remembering that night.”

  Gabe nodded. “Maybe that’s why God urged me to come here today. I’d just returned to the office after lunch and felt this overwhelming need to take a walk along the river.”

  “God told you?” Sam found that tough to believe.

  “More like a nudge.”

  The water tugged past Sam. “I thought maybe I could get rid of all my mistakes.”

  The minister nodded. “If you want to talk about it, I’m a good listener.”

  It had been years since Sam trusted anyone with the deepest darkness in his soul. Other than Ruth. And look how that had turned out. But he had no idea how to fix things with her...if he could fix them.

  “It’s not really about Lillian.” He hesitated. It was one thing to tell Pastor Gabe about someone the man didn’t know personally but quite another thing to reveal the mistakes he’d made with one of Gabe’s parishioners.

  The minister stared across the river. “It’s never simple, is it?”

  Hours ago, Sam would never have unburdened himself to a minister, but now he had nothing to lose. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but now I’ve hurt the person I care for most.” He wiped the dripping hair from his eyes. “Trouble is, I was trying to help her.” Then he told the pastor everything that had happened since arriving in Pearlman—everything except the kiss.

  Pastor Gabe nodded from time to time but let Sam get out the whole story.

  “I don’t know what to do to make things right,” Sam concluded.

  “Hmm. Reminds me of the rich young man who came to Jesus looking for approval for the way he’d lived his life.”

  Sam groaned. He didn’t want a sermon.

  Gabe grinned. “I know. I could find a better example, but this is the one that came to mind. Indulge me. Seems this man had followed every commandment all his life and wanted to know if he’d done enough to get into heaven. Do you remember what Jesus told him?”

  How could Sam forget? He’d never understood this story, for it made entry into heaven impossible. “To sell all he owned and give it to the poor.”

  “But the rich man couldn’t do that, so he left saddened.”

  Sam felt sick. “You’re telling me to give away all I own?”

  “Do you think that would have made the man happy?”

  Sam tried to sort through the story. “No, because he enjoyed his wealth.”

  “He held on too tightly to earthly things,” the young pastor said. “You see, no one can get to heaven on our own efforts, not even me. I can’t earn it or buy it or do enough good. All of us have made mistakes. All of us have failed. And all of us have been offered an amazing gift. We just have to accept it.”

  Sam knew all this in his head, but until that moment it had never made sense in his heart. Now, as if the water had washed a film from his eyes, he could see clearly.

  “I want that.”

  Pastor Gabe nodded. “It means you’ll have to let go of everything, including the things you want most desperately.”

  Ruth. Pastor Gabe was asking him to let go of Ruth. But Sam had never truly had her. No, she was as airy and soft as silk. Hold on too tightly, and it ripped. Let it go, and, like a butterfly, it revealed its full beauty. “I will let go.”

  “Then ask Jesus into your heart. Put your trust completely in Him.”

  “How?”

  “Just ask Him the way you’d ask me.”

  Standing in the middle of the river, Sam struggled to find the words. “Will you accept me, Jesus?” he began haltingly. “I’ve made a mess of things on my own, but I want to make things right, and I know now that I can’t do anything without You. Please come into my life. Please take over. Please show me the way You want me to walk. And please help Ruth.”

  Pastor Gabe smiled and then grasped Sam’s hand. “Welcome to the family of God, Sam Roth.”

  “Rothenburg.” It felt good to say his full name. “Sam Rothenburg.” Sam flexed his shoulders. The weight that had crushed down on him for years seemed to have disappeared. “Now what?”

  “Race you to the other side?” Pastor Gabe motioned across the river.
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  “You’re on.”

  On the count of three, the two men splashed and kicked their way across the river, and by the time Sam reached the other side, he knew exactly what he had to do.

  “I have to go,” he said as soon as Gabe surfaced two strokes behind him. “I have to take care of something, and there’s not much time.”

  Gabe nodded. “Godspeed, then.”

  Sam would need God’s help to seize the only chance left to make things right.

  Chapter Seventeen

  For as long as Ruth could remember, family life centered on the dress shop. Each of the girls had grown up there. At first they’d been under Mother and Daddy’s feet. When they got a little older, they learned to pin seams. After they’d mastered that skill, they could cut inexpensive fabric and baste. Jen had never graduated to that stage, but the rest of them got at least that far. Ruth had always wanted more. She spent every Saturday in the shop. Sometimes she didn’t return home until after supper.

  Now Fox Dress Shop was closing. It hurt to pack up the fabrics and ribbons, the dress forms and sewing machine, the needles and pins. Everything, great and small, had to go into boxes. Those boxes then had to be carried across the alley to their house and up into the attic for storage.

  “It’s not right,” Minnie sniffed as she threw a tangled bolt of muslin onto the worktable. “How can mean Mr. Vanderloo kick us out after all these years?”

  Ruth had struggled with the same wrong thoughts until Mother’s talk. She rewound the muslin so it wouldn’t wrinkle. “We can’t blame Mr. Vanderloo for making a simple business decision. You or I would do the same in his place.”

  “No, I wouldn’t,” Minnie insisted.

  Jen concurred. “We wouldn’t kick out a perfectly good renter just to make a little extra money.”

  “We’re not renters. Daddy was buying the property.” Ruth couldn’t explain it all. She didn’t fully understand what had happened herself, except that Daddy wanted to let go of the shop. Since he was head of the family, she must accept his decision even when she didn’t like it.