Whispers from Yesterday

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  Karen turned toward the window and looked out.

  “Holy, holy, holy …,” Sophia sang as she moved with slow steps along a path that wound through the garden.

  She really believes it. She really believes God’s up there, listening to her. It isn’t just a Sunday thing with her.

  Karen leaned her shoulder against the window frame, a small frown furrowing her brow.

  Why? she wondered. What makes my grandmother believe?

  In the back of her mind, she heard another voice singing.

  Dusty’s voice. Though it was only a memory from the previous Sunday’s church service, it seemed as if he were actually harmonizing with Sophia.

  He believed too, she thought. Both of them believed in God in a way she’d never imagined believing. They had … something. Something she didn’t have. Like a secret that gave them great joy.

  It bothered Karen. It bothered her a lot.

  Saturday, February 13, 1937

  Dear Diary,

  Today, Sophia turned nineteen, and tomorrow is my eighteenth birthday. Mama has made new dresses for us to wear to church, and Papa gave us both pretty new hats. Sophia said I should have had to wait for my actual birthday before Mama and Papa gave me my presents.

  It breaks my heart that we have grown so far apart. It has been worse since I accepted Christ as my Savior and Lord. Sophia has distanced herself more than ever before, and I cannot reach her, no matter how much I try. And I have tried. So very hard.

  The Scriptures say in Luke that henceforth there shall be five in one house divided, three against two, and two against three. Surely that describes Sophia and me. But, oh, how I pray it will not continue to be true of us. I want to share this joy with my beloved sister. This above all else I want to share with her.

  Last week Sophia accused me of getting religion only to impress Mikkel. She called me a hypocrite and worse. Her words seemed to crucify my Lord all over again, and they nearly broke my heart.

  I pray for her. I will pray for her all the days of my life.

  Father in heaven, help Sophia to see what it is I have found in You. Help her to see the abundance of life you have poured out upon me. Amen.

  Esther

  Sunday, February 14, 1937

  Dear Diary,

  Today, Mikkel asked me to marry him!

  And I said Yes!!!

  When he came to see Papa all those many weeks ago (that time I wondered if Papa could be in trouble of some sort), it was to ask for permission to court me and, when the time came, to propose marriage. He told me he was waiting for two things to happen. First, that I would come to know Jesus in my heart, and second, that I turn eighteen.

  As of today, both conditions were met, and so after church services, Mikkel came to call on me. He declared his devotion in the sweetest of fashions, taking me by the hand and dropping to one knee, and then he asked for my hand in marriage. I was speechless at first. My heart raced so fast I was certain he must hear it. I could not speak and had to nod my answer. He smiled and kissed me.

  He would like us to be married this summer, immediately after I graduate.

  I have hoped this would happen almost from the moment I first saw him. For months I have hoped. But I never believed he would choose me.

  I love him more than I ever thought possible, and he loves me. What a miracle!

  Mikkel warned me that life as a minister’s wife will not be an easy one. I do not care. I am not afraid. If I am with him and can serve our Lord too, what have I to fear?

  Esther

  P. S. Sophia looked at me tonight as if I were a boil that needed to be pricked. She has stopped speaking to me altogether.

  TEN

  Standing in the corral in the shade of the barn, Karen gripped the horse’s halter. “Easy, fella,” she crooned.

  Dusty braced the gelding’s leg between his knees while cleaning dried blood from a gash that ran from knee to fetlock.

  “Is it bad?” Billy asked.

  “It’ll mend okay,” Dusty answered the boy without looking up. “But you won’t be able to ride him for several weeks.”

  “I never shoulda left the trail. You told us not to, and I did it anyway.” Billy glanced at Karen with tear-filled eyes. “This is my fault.”

  “You didn’t mean for it to happen,” she reassured him. “You couldn’t—”

  “Billy’s right. He shouldn’t have left the trail. He was told about the barbed wire up there.” Dusty carefully set the horse’s hoof on the ground, then straightened, his gaze instantly clashing with hers. “He has to take responsibility for his own actions.”

  Isn’t that a little harsh? she wanted to ask.

  His eyes clearly gave his answer. No.

  You big bully.

  Stay out of it, princess.

  She wanted to hit him. The overbearing, sanctimonious, hick from the sticks. Never in her life had she detested a man the way she detested Dusty Stoddard.

  I wish he’d kiss me. Her heart somersaulted at the surprising thought. Oh no!

  She couldn’t be falling for this backwoods cowboy. But she was. She was falling for him, and she was falling for him hard.

  Dusty hunkered down and took Billy gently by the arms. “Son, it’s going to be your responsibility to take care of Sundowner. You’ll have to treat that leg with salve twice a day, morning and evening.”

  “I’ll do it, Dusty. I promise.” The boy continued his battle with tears.

  “Maybe Miss Karen would be willing to help you.” Dusty glanced at her a second time, his gaze no longer stern.

  This cannot be happening to me, she thought as she stared at him.

  “You know horses, Karen. Would you help Billy with Sundowner? Hold him like you’re doing now while Billy dresses the wound?”

  Was she still holding the horse’s halter? She’d forgotten.

  I can’t get involved with these people. I can’t fall for this man. I don’t belong here. I belong in Los Angeles. I belong with my friends at the country club, and …

  “Karen?”

  She gave her head a slight shake, then nodded. “Yes. Of course I’ll help Billy.” But only until I get some money together and get out of here. Only until then.

  The sound of an automobile coming up the drive was the perfect excuse for her to break eye contact before he could guess what she was thinking and feeling.

  Dusty stepped away from the horse, his gaze on the car as they waited to see who their visitor was. A moment later, he muttered something under his breath, then strode toward the corral gate.

  “That’s the man from the restaurant,” Billy said. “The one who was mad at Junkman.”

  This can’t be good, Karen thought. Then she asked, “Where is he?”

  “Him and the others are helping Miss Sophie weed her vegetable garden.”

  “Maybe you’d better join them.” She gave Billy a little shove. “And don’t say anything about that man being here.”

  “Are you—?”

  “Go on. Do as I say.” She unbuckled the lead from Sundowner’s halter and followed Billy across the corral.

  She approached the car as the visitor demanded, “Where is he? Where is that—” He called Hal a foul name.

  Dusty’s face darkened, but he managed to hold his temper. “Watch what you’re saying, sir.”

  The man reached into the car and hauled a young girl out, forcing her to stand right next to him, his hand locked around her upper arm like a vice. Her face was as white as a sheet, and her eyes were swollen from crying.

  “Daddy, please,” she whimpered.

  “He got her pregnant.”

  Dusty must have heard Karen’s small gasp, for he turned his head to look in her direction. For an instant, she caught a glimpse of how much he cared, of how much he gave of himself to the boys who stayed at the ranch.

  Instinctively, she moved to stand beside him.

  “I’m going to have that kid put in jail. You hear me, Stoddard?”

  Dus
ty seemed to come to himself. Calmly, he said, “May I have your name, sir?”

  “Call. Olen Call.” He gave the girl’s arm a rough yank. “And this little tramp is Patty.”

  “Karen.” Dusty’s controlled tone of voice couldn’t hide his anger from her. “Would you mind taking Patty into the house while I have a talk with Mr. Call?”

  “Of course.” She moved forward and gently drew the girl away from her father. “Come with me, Patty. I’ll see if there isn’t some lemonade in the refrigerator.”

  Ofttimes, when Sophia closed her eyes, her mind carried her back through the years for brief visits with old friends and beloved family members. It was particularly easy to do when she sat in the shade of the willow tree on a warm June day.

  Today she’d been remembering her first summer as Bradley’s wife. She’d been happy, despite the arduous work of getting their little spread started. She’d loved riding horses and driving cattle with him and their cowhand, Lucky Sam Peterman. She’d been young, slender, pretty, and filled with dreams and plans for the future.

  “I want a dozen children, Bradley, and I want all of them to look like you.”

  “No, they’ve gotta look like you, sweet pea.”

  She’d loved her husband very much. And yet, even so, there was a part of her heart she’d withheld from him throughout their marriage.

  “Why can’t you let go of Mikkel?” Bradley had asked once. “I want your whole heart.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t you? Then write to your sister before it’s too late. The war’s over. Write to her.”

  Of course, it had already been too late, though they hadn’t known it at the time. It had already been too late to tell Esther how much she loved her, that it hadn’t been Esther’s fault Mikkel loved her and not Sophia, that she missed her sister and was sorry. So sorry.

  She released a sigh. Those weren’t the memories she’d been anticipating. The Lord knew she had a lifetime of regrets.

  “Praise God for setting me free from regrets,” she whispered, then she opened her eyes.

  Billy came running around the corner of the house. He stopped abruptly, an anxious gaze locked on Hal.

  “Billy, what is it?” she called to him.

  The boy glanced her way, waging a valiant effort to hide his feelings. “Nothin’.”

  Sophia wasn’t fooled. With a tiny groan, she pushed herself up from the bench and walked toward Billy. She saw him look at the three other boys who were busy weeding, then back at her. Whatever was wrong, it had something to do with Hal.

  “Did Dusty send you for me?” she asked, watching him closely.

  He shook his head.

  “How is your horse?”

  “He’s gonna be okay.” Another anxious glance toward Hal. “Dusty says I can’t ride him for a while, and I’m gonna have to tend to his leg, but he’s gonna be okay.”

  Sophia touched his shoulder. Speaking softly, she said, “What is it, Billy? Something’s bothering you.”

  “Miss Karen told me not to say anything.”

  She raised an eyebrow.

  Billy’s resolve crumbled before her look. “It’s that man. The one who came to the restaurant. The one who was so mad at Junkman.”

  “What about him?”

  “He’s here.”

  “Oh, dear.” It was her turn to glance toward Hal and the others. Fortunately, they’d given scant notice to the elderly woman and young boy. “You’d better stay here.” She pressed her index finger to her lips. “Miss Karen was right. Don’t say anything until we know why he’s come.”

  She followed the path toward the side of the house.

  O Lord, my heart is full of fear. Protect Hal. Protect all these boys. Keep us in the center of Your will. Give Dusty wisdom. You are an awesome God, and we trust in Your goodness and mercy all the days of our lives. Whatever is about to happen, help us to keep our eyes on You. Amen.

  Rounding the corner, she saw the automobile and the two men. Though they weren’t shouting, each man’s body proclaimed his anger in the way he stood and faced the other.

  Where was Karen?

  Dusty glanced toward Sophia. He stared at her for a moment, then jerked his head toward the house before returning his attention to the other man.

  Sophia climbed the few steps to the porch, then entered the house. She found Karen in the kitchen, seated at the table with a young girl who was weeping inconsolably into her hands while Karen patted her back.

  You keep that sleaze ball away from my daughter, or I’ll have him thrown in jail.

  With the memory of those words ringing in her ears, Sophia understood the situation without further explanation, and her heart sank.

  “Grandmother.”

  It was the first time Karen had called Sophia that, but this wasn’t the moment to take pleasure in it. “Yes.” She moved forward again. “I’m here.”

  The girl choked back a sob as she lowered her hands.

  She’s so young, Lord. She can’t be more than fifteen.

  “Patty!” came a shout from outside.

  The girl bolted from her seat.

  “Patty, get out here! Now!”

  “He’s gonna make me have an abortion,” she whispered, then she ran from the house.

  O, Father God. No!

  Sophia turned and followed after Patty as fast as her old legs would carry her. She reached the porch in time to see the girl’s father grab her by the arm and force her into the car with a none-too-gentle shove. Before Sophia could step off the porch, the man got behind the wheel and started the engine. He said something to Dusty through the open window, then drove away, a spray of dirt and gravel flying up behind his rear tires.

  Karen’s fingers closed around Sophia’s arm. “Dusty will take care of it.”

  “I hope so, dear,” Sophia replied while patting Karen’s hand. “Dear God, I hope so.”

  Sunday, May 9, 1937

  Dear Diary,

  Sophia has steadfastly refused to be my maid of honor. Mikkel has tried talking to her, but she will not relent. I can see the sadness in her eyes and the bitterness, too. I want so much to help her, but she will have no part in it.

  Mama is beside herself. I am getting married in less than a month. She is making my wedding gown. And all the while, her daughters are at war.

  Papa has warned Sophia that she will one day regret her decision, but Sophia insists she will not.

  Father in heaven, is there no way for me to reach my sister? Please soften her heart toward me. All my life she has been there for me. We learned to play the piano together. She taught me to swim when I was too afraid to get in the water. She helped me with my algebra or I would have surely failed that subject. I cannot help loving Mikkel, nor am I sorry I am to marry him. But what about Sophia?

  Esther

  Wednesday, June 2, 1937

  Dear Diary,

  I am frightened.

  My wedding gown is finished and hanging in the parlor. Delphia has her bridesmaid gown. She says it is the loveliest dress she has ever owned and that my mama is a wonder. Some gifts have been delivered and are sitting on the table, prettily wrapped. Mrs. Booher at the bakery says my cake will be large enough to feed the entire church congregation, all of whom are expected to be there for the wedding on Saturday morning.

  I love Mikkel. I have come to love him more every single day. But I am still frightened.

  Today he told me that we will be leaving later this summer for Denmark where he intends to assist his grandfather in his church. I am more than frightened. I am terrified. I have never gone farther from home than to Boise, less than a hundred miles away. Mikkel says it will only be for a year. Two at the most. But how shall I get along? I have learned only a little of the Danish Mikkel has tried to teach me.

  I long to talk to Sophia about my fears. She has been such a rock for me. Always she has listened and advised. But it is useless to try to talk to her now. She wants nothin
g to do with me. She will not listen or advise. She says she is not coming to the wedding.

  I don’t believe her. She will come. She must. She could not hate me that much.

  Oh, Sophia, you were my closest and dearest companion, You were more than my sister. You were my friend. Why have you deserted me?

  But God hasn’t deserted me. Even in my fear and uncertainty, I feel Him near, offering comfort and courage. In my weakness, He is strong. His strength is perfect and His grace is sufficient.

  Esther

  ELEVEN

  Karen paced the tiny parlor of the ranch house. Every once in a while, she paused and looked toward the front door, wondering what was happening in the bunkhouse between Dusty and Hal. Then she started pacing again.

  “Sit down, dear,” her grandmother commanded gently. “Your worry will change nothing.”

  “How can you not worry?”

  “The Bible says, ‘And who of you by being worried can add a single hour to his life?’ So that’s what I try to practice. Not to worry.”

  “And you succeed?”

  Sophia shook her head. “Not every time. But the older I get, the more often I’ve seen the hand of God miraculously change circumstances and bring good out of all kinds of disasters.”

  “Miracles.” Karen’s tone mocked the word. “You and Dusty talk like they happen every day.”

  “They do.”

  She whirled around, ready to tell her grandmother she was either senile or a fool. One or the other. But something in the elderly woman’s expression stopped her.

  Sophia’s smile was tender, the look in her eyes slightly distant, as if she could see something Karen couldn’t. “Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee,” she said softly, more to herself than to her granddaughter.

  “And you can be at peace over Junkman’s pregnant girlfriend? And what about her father? Did you see the way he treated her? He called her a tramp. She’s only fifteen, for crying out loud.”