Monday, September 4, 1939
Dear Diary,
England and France have declared war on Germany after the invasion of Poland. Mikkel says he should have sent me back to America months ago. But Grandfather Fritz insists Denmark will be all right. This nation remained neutral during the Great War, and he says the king will keep them so again. He says Mikkel worries needlessly. The Germans will leave us alone.
I pray Grandfather is right.
Esther
Saturday, October 28, 1939
Why God? Why? Why must I suffer? Why am I unable to give Mikkel a son or a daughter? Why did I miscarry before I could even share my secret hope with Mikkel, that I was at last pregnant again?
Christmas Day, 1939
Dear Diary,
Grandfather is ill. We had just returned from our Christmas morning service when he collapsed. Mikkel carried him to his room while I called for the doctor, and we waited long and agonizing minutes until he arrived.
The doctor says it is old age and we should not expect Grandfather to live more than another four to six months, although it is possible he will linger beyond that.
The vibrant old man I have known since coming to Denmark—the man who revealed to me his beloved Copenhagen, who took me for long walks down old streets and showed me the Citadel and the Royal Theatre and the university and the Botanical and Tivoli Gardens, and who loved me as if I were his own granddaughter—is dying.
It is too much, God. Too much. Must You take away everyone I love from me? My sister. My daughter. My unborn child. And now Grandfather Fritz. What lesson is this I must learn? Why? Why? Why? Am I like Job? Must I be stripped of everything?
Esther
TWENTY
A week passed.
“Do you suppose Miss Karen’s all right?” Billy asked at supper one night.
“She’s in God’s hands,” Sophia answered. The boy nodded. “Then she’s all right.”
Listening, Dusty thought it was no wonder Christ said they were to have faith like a little child’s. He would do well to follow Billy’s example.
Another week went by.
Dusty called in a few favors from his contacts at both the county and state level and obtained permission for Patty to remain at the Golden T during her pregnancy. Perhaps longer if circumstances didn’t change with her father.
“You and I can do our homework together,” Dusty told Patty after they’d decided to homeschool her. “Agreed?”
“Agreed,” she answered, showing more animation than she had since her arrival at the ranch.
The final week of the youth camp’s season was upon them, and everyone began to feel the regret of approaching separation. It was like this every year for Dusty. He poured all his efforts into helping his boys cope with whatever they had to face in their families, their homes, their communities, and then he hated to send them back to those same situations.
Some would write to him now and then. A few would even come for a visit. Most would simply disappear from his life, remembered in his prayers but never seen nor heard from again.
Much like Karen.
He’d foolishly thought the pain of her absence would lessen with time. It hadn’t happened. At least not yet.
It was tradition for everyone at the Golden T to spend a full day at the Western Idaho State Fair before the boys left the ranch. This year was no different.
“Can I push your wheelchair first?” Billy asked Sophia as Dusty parked the van in the packed lot.
“If you’d like.” She glanced at Dusty. “Renting that contraption is a foolish waste of money. You could have left me on a bench in the shade. I enjoy watching people. I would’ve been fine.”
“Don’t be silly. We want you with us. Don’t we?”
A chorus of yeses resounded from the back of the van.
It didn’t take long for everyone to disembark. Soon Sophia was seated in the wheelchair and being pushed by Billy toward the main gates. Patty stayed close to the elderly woman’s side. The girl had bonded with Sophia, but Dusty suspected she missed Karen almost as much as he did.
One day. It’d be nice to go through one day without thinking of her.
He purchased their admission tickets. Then he gave them his standard speech about watching the time, and they decided on a meeting place. Monies were doled out. There was less than originally hoped for, thanks to Karen.
But he didn’t want to think of that either. God had provided. What more could he want?
He checked his wristwatch. “Okay, it’s one o’clock now. Everybody plan to meet by the fountain”—he pointed toward it—“at three-thirty. And don’t be late.”
The three boys took off. Patty didn’t budge.
“Aren’t you going, dear?” Sophia asked.
The girl shook her head. “I’d rather stay with you, if that’s okay.”
“Of course it is.”
Patty looked toward the carnival grounds. “I can’t go on the rides anyway since I’m pregnant.”
Dusty had known his share of adults who didn’t face their responsibilities as well as this girl faced hers.
“Come on.” He put his arm around her shoulders at the same time she gripped the handles of the wheelchair. “Let’s find something to eat. I’ve got money burning a hole in my pocket and hunger burning a hole in my stomach.”
The fair had been in full swing for six days, and Karen had spent every one of them in her employer’s booth on food row. Now, she knew more about dipping ice cream than she’d imagined there was to know.
On this Thursday afternoon, the August sun beat relentlessly down on the roadway outside the booth; mirages wavered above the blacktopped surface. To make matters worse, crying children, shouting mothers, and loud rock music blaring from speakers in the carnival combined into an ear-shattering cacophony.
And Karen put up with it all for minimum wage.
She leaned over the freezer compartment, grateful for the blast of cold air that hit her face as she scooped chocolate-chip ice cream into a cone. It momentarily eased the pounding in her head.
“Here you go. That’ll be a dollar seventy-five.” She handed the cone to a small boy as his mother placed seven quarters on the stainless steel counter.
“Karen?”
She glanced over her shoulder at Toby, the owner’s teenaged son. “Hmm?”
“I’m going for some chocolate syrup. Need me to bring anything else?”
“No. I don’t think so.” “Okay. Back in ten.”
She watched Toby leave through the rear of the booth. The kid reminded her a little of Hal Junker. I wonder where Junkman is now.
The thought caused a twinge of pain, and she quickly blanked it out. If she thought about Junkman, then she would think about the other boys. If she thought about the other boys, then she would think about Sophia. And then she would think about Dusty. She couldn’t handle that.
She turned toward the counter again—
And there he stood, as if in answer to her thoughts.
She saw her own surprise mirrored in Dusty’s eyes.
“Karen.”
Her mouth went dry.
“How are you?” he asked softly.
She swallowed, then moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. “I … I’m fine.”
“I thought you’d gone back to California.”
“No.” She shook her head. “No, I’m still here.” She wiped her damp palms on her apron.
“Have you seen the boys?” “They’re here?”
“Yes.” His dark, expressive eyes searched hers. There was no condemnation in them. Only tenderness. “Sophia’s here too. She’s with Patty.”
“With Patty.”
“Patty’s staying with us through the winter.” He paused a moment, then said, “She misses you. Everyone does.”
It took all her resolve not to say she missed them, too, to keep from bursting into tears and rushing into his arms.
“Come home, Karen.”
Home … Was the Golden T her home? Did she want it to be? She didn’t know. She wasn’t sure. She was confused. She shook her head. “I can’t.” “Sure you can.”
She stared into the freezer compartment, unable to look at him any longer. “No.” Oh, why did Toby have to be gone from the booth? If only she could turn and walk away. This was too hard. It was much too hard.
Dusty reached across the counter and took hold of her arm. She stared at his hand. The summer sun had bronzed his skin. There were tiny scars on several knuckles. It was a large, strong hand, and yet, like everything else about Dusty, it was gentle.
“Come home, Karen.”
Blinded by tears, she took a step backward, out of his reach, then turned her back toward him. “I don’t know where home is,” she confessed in a strangled voice.
“Sure you do. You know. In your heart, you know. Home is with the people you love, with the people who love you.”
“I don’t belong with—” She stopped abruptly. She’d almost said she didn’t belong with him. But she couldn’t say it. Those words would reveal too much. Finally, she said, “I don’t belong at the Golden T.”
“You’re running away. Just like I did. Just like your grandmother did. Just like Hal did. But you can’t outrun God, Karen. I’m living proof of that. You’ll find Him waiting for you wherever you go. So you might as well stop running.”
“I can’t come back. Don’t ask me to.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Please don’t ask me to.”
He sighed. “All right. I won’t ask.” There was a lengthy pause, then he added, “But I’ll be praying for you. I won’t stop doing that.”
No, don’t stop praying for me, Dusty. Please don’t stop.
She blinked away hot tears, set her jaw, clenched her hands into fists. She wasn’t going to cry in front of him. No matter what else happened, she wasn’t going to let him see her tears.
It took awhile, but once she’d regained a measure of control, she turned around.
Too late. Dusty was gone.
Sunday, December 31, 1939
Dear Diary,
It is not “Why is this happening to me?” that I should be asking of God. It is “How can I draw closer to You, Lord? How can I take this experience, my own suffering and loss, and use it to minister to others?”
I felt God stirring my heart this morning while Mikkel was preaching. It wasn’t anything he said specifically. It was purely of the Holy Spirit, speaking quietly to me, reassuring me, comforting me. Suddenly, I felt a peace I have not felt for a long, long time. I let go of the hurt I was clinging to. I do not know how else to describe it. I simply let go and told the Lord that whatever happened, I was His. I will worship Him. I will serve Him. No matter what, I will praise Him for all of my days. I will go where He wants me to go. I will do what He wants me to do.
And in that moment, I knew I would find God’s will for my life, that I would not live in vain, and that my descendants would be able to say, “Esther Christiansen was a woman of God, a woman who loved Jesus and who taught others to love the Lord as well.”
My descendants. I do not know if they will be few or if they will be as many as Abraham’s. All I know is, the Lord told me there will be descendants.
Thank You, Jesus.
Esther
TWENTY-ONE
You’re running away …
For the eyes of the LORD move to and fro throughout the earth that He may strongly support those whose heart is completely His.
Just like I did …
The eyes of the LORD are toward the righteous, and His ears are open to their cry.
Just like your grandmother did …
My eyes shall be upon the faithful of the land, that they may dwell with me; He who walks in a blameless way is the one who will minister to me.
Just like Hal did …
The eyes of the LORD are in every place, watching the evil and the good.
But you can’t outrun God, Karen … You can’t outrun God, Karen … You can’t outrun God …
The tangerine light of dawn spread across the ceiling of Dusty’s bedroom. It surprised him to find it there. He was usually awake long before sunup.
But, of course, the boys had left on Saturday, and today there was no need to rise early.
Sitting up, he raked his fingers through his hair and yawned. What he needed was a cup of coffee to clear the cobwebs. Then maybe he’d put his feet up and read a good book, just for the fun of it. A suspense novel. One of those books about the end times that had been getting such great reviews. Anything other than a textbook. He’d be getting his fill of those as soon as he was back at the university.
His eyes widened. The university! He’d be driving back and forth to school in Boise. But he couldn’t leave Sophia and Patty alone all day with no transportation. Sophia was old and Patty was pregnant, and the Golden T was miles from anywhere. And, thanks to Karen, they were now short one vehicle.
Why didn’t I think of this before?
He got out of bed, pulled on his jeans, dropped a T-shirt over his head, then slipped his feet into a pair of thongs. He needed that coffee before he’d be able to work through this latest problem.
Lord, we’re gonna need plenty of help on this one.
He opened the bunkhouse door.
And there was his pickup, Karen seated inside, her forehead resting on the steering wheel.
He whispered her name as quickened strides carried him toward the truck. Sunlight glinted off the windshield, the reflection momentarily blinding him.
“Karen?” Hurrying around to the driver’s side, he grabbed the handle and yanked the door open. “Karen, what’s wrong?”
She lifted her head, and her gaze met his. “I came home. I’m tired of—”
Before she could finish whatever she was about to say, Dusty drew her out of the truck and into his arms. He held her tightly as he brushed his lips across the top of her head, all the while silently praying, Thank You, Jesus. Thank You for bringing her home. Thank You. Thank You.
He had no idea how much time passed before she pulled back from him, lifting her eyes toward his.
“I don’t want to run away anymore, Dusty. I need to find answers.”
He heard the heartache in her voice, and he longed to soothe it away. He longed to tell her he loved her. He longed to tell her he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. But he kept silent, knowing he had to be patient. If ever there was a time to seek God’s guidance, this was it.
Karen looked toward the house. “I don’t have much of Grandmother’s money left.”
“It won’t matter. She’ll just be glad you’re back.”
“I … I’m sorry about taking your truck.”
He gave her a tender smile. “You brought it back. The rest doesn’t matter.” He put his arm around her shoulders. “Let’s get you inside.”
She let him steer her toward the house, up the porch steps, and through the front door. They stopped, and Karen’s gaze swept over the kitchen. The scent of freshly perked coffee filled the room.
“Sophia must be up,” he said needlessly.
“She’ll be in her garden.” Karen stepped away from him. “Praying.”
He watched her walk across the kitchen, putting more distance between them.
“She’ll be out there praying for me,” she added.
“Yes.”
She turned toward him. “I don’t know if I can ever believe the things you do. About God and Jesus and faith and … and love.”
This is real love, he quoted silently, willing her to understand. It is not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son as a sacrifice to take away our sins.
“I’ve been reading the Bible she gave me.”
He smiled.
“No need to look so pleased,” she said with a note of irritation. “It doesn’t mean I agree with it.”
“Sorry,” he answered, but his smile remained.
Whether Karen knew it or not, the
Holy Spirit was at work in her heart, and he couldn’t keep himself from silently rejoicing.
Seated beneath the willow, Sophia rejoiced as well. Before coming to the garden, she’d seen Karen in Dusty’s truck, and she’d known the young woman had returned.
“And she who seeks the Truth shall find Him,” she whispered.
Her gaze strayed to her vegetable patch. Ripening tomatoes hung on the vines. Three rows of cornstalks formed the southern border of the rectangle garden; their tassels bobbed and danced in a crisp morning breeze. Long, green tentacles from the zucchini plants spread in several directions.
It was easy now, as summer ended, to tell what each plant was. It was more difficult early in the season, especially for the untrained eye.
She remembered the day Billy had pulled up several young plants, thinking they were weeds. “It’s hard to tell what they are when nothing’s growin’ on ‘em,” he’d said to her.
It’s the same thing with people, isn’t it, Lord? But You know what they are. You know who they are. You know who Karen is and what You have in store for her. And one day, we’ll be able to see it too.
As if in response to her thoughts, she saw her granddaughter coming down the path toward her. Karen had lost weight in the past three weeks. Judging by the circles beneath her eyes, she hadn’t been getting much sleep either. “Hello, Grandmother.”
“Come.” Sophia patted the bench with her hand. “Sit beside me, dear. I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too.” She sat as directed.
Sophia enfolded Karen’s left hand in her right one and squeezed.
“I’m sorry I took your money.”
“It’s all right.”
“No, it isn’t. I know how little you have. And what you do have, you give to others. Me, I’ve just thought about myself.” Karen closed her eyes. “I want my life to mean something. I want to be a better person than I am.”
“Oh, my dear.” Sophia released her granddaughter’s hand, then put her arm around Karen’s back and drew her close, stroking her hair with her hand. “I love you so much.”
Whispers from Yesterday Page 15
