She sighed. “Goodness, six months isn’t a very long time. Perhaps you should consider going through with your retirement. That way you could go to help your friend with no strings attached. Then just see where the Lord leads you next.”
“Yes, that makes a lot of sense.” He smiled with what seemed relief. “I’ve only been to the Amazon once, and only for a few days, but I was intrigued with the place. I’ve always dreamed of returning.”
Alice nodded. “Then it seems you should go.”
The four of them chatted more about South America, the Amazon and traveling in general as they drove Alice back to Acorn Hill. Then Mark got out to walk her up to the house. Pausing at the door he took her hand.
“Alice, I haven’t been completely honest with you.”
She blinked. “What about?”
“Well, a couple of things.” He looked down at the porch. “First of all, the main reason I feel conflicted about going to the Amazon is because of you—”
“Oh, Mark, you shouldn’t—”
“Wait, Alice, I need to explain. I still have feelings for you, and I don’t want to do the same thing I did forty years ago.”
“This is completely different, Mark. I really believe you’re absolutely right to go to the Amazon. I can see how excited you are about it, and I would feel horrible to think that I could have anything to do with your not going. And, really, six months is such a short time.”
He smiled. “You are a wonderful person, Alice. I’ve always known that.”
“Thank you. Now what was the other thing you weren’t honest about?”
“Well, earlier today, when I signed up for the auction, I noticed a name a few spaces above mine. I wasn’t trying to, but I do have a bit of a photographic memory. I saw Alice Howard with the number fifty-six next to it. I guess it sort of stuck in my mind.”
“And?”
“Well, I saw the quilt and saw that number fifty-six had bid on it. Later on, I checked and saw that other bids were higher than yours and, well, I just couldn’t resist.” He released her hand. “Wait right here a minute.” He dashed back to his SUV, opened the back and then returned with the quilt bundled up in his hands. “It’s for you, Alice.”
“Oh, Mark.”
“I wanted you to have it.”
She laughed. “I really wanted it, too. But I can’t take it from you.”
He shook his head. “It wasn’t for me.”
“But—”
“No but’s.”
“Thank you.”
Then, taking her hand in his, he leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. “You’re one in a million, Alice Howard.” Then he released her hand and went down the stairs. “I’ll be in touch.”
Alice felt tears in her eyes as she waved good-bye. “Yes, and you take care, Dr. Graves.” She watched as he got back into his SUV and drove away. But instead of feeling sad or disappointed, she only felt happy and relieved. She did not know what the long-term future held for either one of them, but she believed that what and where they were right now was exactly right—for both of them. And she would be praying for him daily.
“Alice!” exclaimed Jane when Alice came into the house holding the beautiful quilt in her arms. “Oh my goodness, does this mean you’re getting married?”
Alice laughed at her younger sister and started to explain, but by then Louise and Cynthia had joined them.
“Let us start from the beginning,” said Louise as she took Alice by the arm and led her to the kitchen. “Cynthia, put on the kettle,” she commanded. “Jane, how about some of that pumpkin bread?”
It did not take long for Alice to set them all straight. “It’s not that it’s totally out of the realm of possibility,” she said finally. “It’s just that the timing isn’t right for either one of us right now.”
“No sense in rushing things,” said Louise.
Cynthia frowned. “That’s not what you say to me, Mother.”
Louise just laughed. “That is because you are not getting any younger.”
Cynthia looked at Alice. “And she is?”
Louise patted her daughter’s hand. “It is all a matter of perspective, dear.”
“Do we have time to read again tonight, Aunt Alice?” asked Cynthia eagerly.
“Sure, if you all want to,” said Alice.
They moved their tea party to the den and Alice read.
February 19, 1927. I turned seventeen today and I cannot believe how I feel so completely different from last year. Then I was hopeless and discouraged. Now I feel excited about life and I believe that God has a purpose for me. My studies are going well and my home life is more tolerable than before. Gladys is bigger than a house and mostly sits, but since I am willing to help out with her daily chores, she has become quite appreciative. She and I even talk sometimes when my father is out late. She told me about where she grew up and how her parents were poor and how she ran away only to find it difficult to earn her living as a seamstress. I feel a little sorry for her. I know that my father is not the easiest man to live with, but then it was her choice to marry him. It makes me realize, more than ever, how important it is to choose the right person to marry. I can see now that Adele Brooks would not be right for me. I want to marry a girl with more substance and understanding. I am praying to someday meet a wife who loves God with her whole heart, is generous toward those with less, and who is pretty. I realize the part about pretty may be a little shallow on my part, but I figure a fellow has the right to dream.
“Good for Grandpa,” said Cynthia. “And his dream came true, didn’t it?”
“It sure did,” said Louise. “Our mother was all that he described and more.”
“She was beautiful,” said Alice. “In every way.” She looked down at the still-open journal. “The next entry is about Aunt Ethel’s birth.”
“Read it,” said Jane.
April 2, 1927. By the time I came home after working at the newspaper today, Gladys was the proud mother of a baby girl. My father had just left to take the doctor back home, and Mrs. Warner was still on hand to help out. She asked me if I wanted to see my little sister, and for the first time it occurred to me that Gladys’s baby was actually my sister. I do not know why that had not sunk in before. So I told Mrs. Warner, “Yes, I’d like to see the baby,” and within minutes she reappeared with what looked like a withered up prune baby, only very red. “Is that it?” I asked. First Mrs. Warner frowned at me, then she explained that this is how babies look when they are born. I hope she is right because in my opinion that is the homeliest baby I have ever seen—
Now Cynthia and Jane were both laughing so hard that Alice could barely finish, but somehow she managed.
I do not want to hurt Gladys’s feelings, but I am curious about what she thinks of this prune baby. Still, I suppose a mother would love her baby no matter what. Just the same I have seen newborn foals and calves and pigs that are all much nicer to look at than my little sister who is to be named Ethel. Poor girl, not only is she homely, but her name is not much to speak of either.
“That’s so hilarious,” said Cynthia with enthusiasm. “Please read more.”
After they all recovered from their laughter, Alice read a few more very brief entries. They said little more than how much their father enjoyed his studies but remained busier than ever with farm work, his part-time job, and preparing for exams. He also made note of how he was continually growing as a Christian, and finally Alice came to an entry that was more than a couple of sentences long.
June 11, 1927. My father, Gladys and baby sister Ethel (who is really quite cute now) attended my graduation last night. It may be an assumption on my part, but I think they were proud of me. I graduated with top honors and delivered the valedictory speech to my class, and best of all, the principal of our school presented me with the Thornton Scholarship, which will pay for all of my college expenses. Afterwards, my father shook my hand and said that I was a “chip off the old block.” Once again, I bit my tongu
e and simply thanked him. It is hard to forget that only a week ago he was dead set against my going to college at all.
“Ain’t it enough that you been going to school for eleven long years already, boy?” he bellowed at me one evening after a particularly bad day of plowing in the north field. “I’m thinking it’s about time you paid your dues to this farm, boy. Unless you think your fancy education is gonna make them crops plant and harvest themselves.” I tried to explain to him, once again, that farming was fine for him, but that I had no desire to spend my life toiling in the dirt. “I love books and learning,” I told him. “Books don’t put food on the table,” he snapped back at me. Well, I was ready to give up then. To just turn around and walk outside and wait for him to cool off, but then Gladys spoke up.
“Now, George, you ain’t being fair to Daniel. He worked hard to get this far with his education. Why shouldn’t he have his chance to go on and make some-thing of himself? Mr. Dolton already explained that it won’t cost you one penny. Besides that, it might raise our standing in this community to have a college-educated son. People might treat our little Ethel with more respect if they knew her big brother was a scholar. Maybe Daniel will get himself some big fancy job like a lawyer or doctor or senator. Think about how you could go bragging around to all your friends about that. The good Lord only knows, but our Daniel here might even become rich and famous someday. You want to take that away from him? From us?”
To my utter surprise, my father seemed to consider his wife’s line of reasoning, and during the course of the following week, he appeared to reach a genuine place of acceptance. Naturally, I consider this an honest-to-goodness miracle and I have thanked God numerous times for his mercy in this regard.
After the graduation ceremony, Mr. and Mrs. Dolton hosted a celebration party for me. Naturally, it was only a small affair with mostly church friends, a couple of school chums, and my little family. All in all, it was an amazing day and gives me hope that God has even better things in store for me. More than ever I believe that as the Bible says, “all things are possible with God.”
For God to take a poor farm boy from such a home as mine and present me with the chance to make something of my life is nothing short of miraculous. And, as I said in my graduation speech, no one knows what the future holds for any of us, but my goal is to be thankful and grateful for the opportunities that lie ahead, and to trust God with the challenges of tomorrow. For I know that my life is safe in his hands.
“Wow,” said Jane. “That’s a lot to wrap your brain around.”
Alice nodded. “But that’s just exactly how Father lived out his life.”
“What a rich heritage,” said Cynthia.
Louise nodded. “I must admit that I was concerned when we first began reading Father’s journal. I felt alarmed to learn how troubled his youth had been. I had no idea that his family had been so, well, dysfunctional.”
“But, you see,” said Alice, “it’s like Scripture says, God really does work things together for good for those who love the Lord and are called according to His purposes.”
“I suspect that Father wouldn’t have been the man he was if his life had been completely easy and normal,” said Jane.
“And we wouldn’t be who we are,” said Alice.
“It is fascinating to see how we are all interconnected by family ties and history,” said Louise. “It makes me see why it is important to understand these things better.”
“But as Father would say,” added Alice, “it’s more important to understand that we’re all part of a much bigger family. That way, despite whatever life brings our way, whether it seems to be good or bad, we’ll always have a Heavenly Father to take care of us.”
“Amen,” said Cynthia.
Alice closed the journal and smiled. “Now that’s a promise you can take to bed with you.”
Tales from Grace Chapel Inn
Hidden History
by Melody Carlson
Back Home Again
by Melody Carlson
Recipes & Wooden Spoons
by Judy Baer
Once you visit the charming village of Acorn Hill, you’ll never want to leave. Here, the three Howard sisters reunite after their father’s death and turn the family home into a bed-and-breakfast. They rekindle old memories, rediscover the bonds of sisterhood, revel in the blessings of friendship, and meet many fascinating guests along the way.
Melody Carlson is the author of numerous books for children, teens and adults—with sales totaling more than two million copies. She has two grown sons and lives in central Oregon with her husband and chocolate Lab retriever.
Hidden History Page 20
