Unyielding Hope (When Hope Calls Book #1)

by Janette Oke

  His eyes turned at last to acknowledge Lillian’s presence.

  “Hello,” she greeted him, hoping he could see genuine concern in her eyes.

  Lemuel drained the glass of milk before he reached for the sandwich. But his words were already beginning to flow more easily. “Thank you, ma’am. For this food, and for the doctor too.”

  “You’re so welcome, son. I’d like to ask you a few more questions,” Grace began. “If you think you’ll be able to answer me.”

  He nodded, biting off a large mouthful.

  “How old are you, Lemuel?”

  “Fourteen, miss.”

  “Can you tell me, how did you come to live on the street here?”

  He swallowed hard, set down the sandwich, and lowered his eyes. “I came from England with some other orphans. I had a family to stay with, but the missus died. And when the man remarried, there wasn’t room for me no more.”

  Grace’s question came softly and evenly. “Did you run away then?”

  “No, ma’am!” He seemed perplexed that she would pose such a question. “The man, he brought me back to where he got me at the first.”

  “At a children’s home?”

  “No, at the train station—three summers ago.”

  “He left you there . . . alone?”

  “In town here. Yes, miss.”

  Lillian felt her stomach lurch. How could anyone ever . . . ?

  Grace’s hand reached out to touch Lemuel’s good arm gently. “Son, that wasn’t right—what the man did. I’m not sure of his reasons. Perhaps he thought that because you’re older, you were independent enough. But whatever it was he thought, I want you to know that it wasn’t your fault. Do you understand that? You did nothing to deserve that.”

  He lifted the sandwich again, taking a small bite, chewing.

  Grace dipped her head. Having watched her sister pray often enough, Lillian knew Grace had just sent up a silent prayer. She then asked, “You told Harrison, the other boy, that you’d come from London?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Would you feel comfortable telling me what happened to your parents?”

  His reply was frank and without visible sorrow. “They died—when I was seven. First my papa, then Mum.”

  “Where did you live after that?”

  “On the streets.”

  “Do you have siblings—brothers or sisters?”

  “Yes, ma’am. One. But he died, too, when it got too cold the first winter.” His eyebrows constricted as he spoke the last words.

  Lillian felt her eyes fill with tears and stealthily stepped back a little. She swept the moisture away with the back of one hand. Grace’s voice was quiet and confident despite this dreadful story. “Miss Lillian and I care for some other children—children who lost their families too. In fact, they’re also children who came here from England to be adopted but then came back to the children’s home again.”

  “Other children? That boy?”

  “Yes, son. All four of them.”

  His brow wrinkled in concern. “Are you keeping ’em all?”

  “No, but we want to be extra careful in finding good homes for them. In fact, we’re all going away from here tomorrow. We’re moving together to a big house in a town called Brookfield, where my sister lives.” She smiled behind her toward Lillian. “We’d like you to consider coming with us.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes. We’d like to find a family for you too.”

  He froze in place, then slowly began to shake his head. “I’m too old for that now. And, Miss . . .” Lemuel raised his eyes plaintively. “I don’t think I want to try again—with a family. Put-together families don’t work. They just . . .” He allowed his words to trail away.

  This time Grace’s voice registered his pain. “I’m sorry. I understand. I truly do. Can I tell you something else about us, Lemuel?”

  No response except the set, determined jaw.

  “My sister and I, we truly do understand. We lost our parents, too, when we were young.”

  His expression eased slightly.

  “Miss Lillian was placed in a family. And I stayed in the care of various children’s homes for all of my childhood. But”—she hurried on—“but that doesn’t mean either of us didn’t matter, or that we didn’t both have people around us who loved us.” She patted his hand again. “We’d like to take care of you for a bit . . . even if you decide you don’t want another family. We’d like you to stay with us until you truly are old enough to strike out on your own.”

  Lillian’s eyes grew large again. That was more than she’d agreed to. She had expected the task of caring for the children to be fully completed by Christmas. She hoped Grace was merely using comforting words, with the full expectation that once he trusted them, Lemuel would also be placed in a new family.

  “Well . . .” He faltered. “Maybe till my arm mends, anyhow.”

  “Will you come with us on our trip to Brookfield tomorrow?”

  He pushed the last bite of sandwich into his mouth and chewed it slowly. At last he shrugged. “I got nowhere else to go.”

  Grace smiled broadly. “Well, we’ll be very pleased to have you.”

  “Grace?”

  Lillian waited while Grace set her teacup on the table and turned on the sofa in order to give Lillian her full attention. “What is it, sis? I noticed that you’ve been deep in thought all evening.”

  Lillian nodded from across the small room. “It’s Lemuel. I keep thinking about his story.”

  “It’s sad, I know. But it’s far more common than most can imagine. This world is all too often a dreadful place, and only those who close their eyes to it can believe any differently.”

  “It’s more than that.” Lillian shook her head, unable to express her thoughts with the right words. She sniffed away a tear that threatened, knowing full well she wouldn’t manage to say what she needed to voice aloud without crying. The words began to spill out. “He lost both his parents when he was young. He lost his little brother too. Then he was given a new home but his new mother died! And then his new father left him.”

  Grace watched her silently, patiently.

  “It’s just . . .” Lillian shook her head, then lifted her eyes toward Grace. “He’s so much like me! Our lives have had so many of the same hurts. And yet our stories played out so very differently. Do you see it? I lost a father and two mothers too. We even each lost a sibling in childhood. That is, well, you know what I mean. And my second father left me on my own this year too.”

  Grace’s hand lifted to cover her mouth. “I hadn’t thought of all that. But you’re right. You’ve shared so many of those griefs too. How remarkable!”

  The dam of tears broke loose and Lillian felt her shoulders shake. “But it couldn’t be more dissimilar. Because I was always safe and cared for. I don’t ever remember being fearful of being abandoned—and he’s always been.” She pressed her handkerchief against her eyes before finishing. “Why, Grace? Why has his life been so, so hard? And, even if I always had food and shelter . . .” Again she faltered. “Why did I have to lose so much? Why did he? I can’t understand why God would . . .”

  Grace moved across the room and perched on a corner of Lillian’s chair, drawing a trembling hand away from the reading book and scooping it up gently. “I don’t know. I just don’t know. But I trust Him. I know that He’s good. And I know He’s powerful.” She searched Lillian’s face. “Ask Him. And don’t give up until you understand. That’s the best advice I can give. Because the Bible promises that if you seek Him with all your heart, you’ll find Him.”

  Lillian closed her eyes, wondering if Grace would reject her should she honestly reveal her heart aloud. She whispered between sniffles, “It’s just . . . it’s so hard . . . to believe . . . there’s anyone in charge . . . when so much . . . of what’s happening . . . hurts people . . . destroys people.”

  Grace’s hands tightened. Her voice staccatoed with deep emotion of her own.
“But Lillian . . . it depends what you see . . . what you choose to look at.” She drew a deep breath. “Because yes, there’s so, so much pain. . . . And yet there’s redemption too. . . . And that’s what God does. . . . He redeems. He sets things right. Sin brought pain and death. But God never gave up on people. He always works to bring new life. For you in the ways you’ve seen Him give life back to you. And for me in so many, many ways. And for Lemuel . . . Well, he’s with us now. And Bryony, and Harrison, and Hazel and George. He’s doing great things to bring new life to us all.” She shook her head. “When I decided to take on the responsibility of these children, I never dreamed I wouldn’t have to do this alone. I never thought God would give you back to me just now—just when I needed you most. I’m simply overwhelmed by His mercy, and His timing. It’s amazing.”

  This new perspective was a reversal of everything Lillian had concluded about life. Long into the night she prayed with her whole being, asking God to help her better understand this puzzling way of interpreting hardships.

  Loading the black roadster that was to carry Grace, the five children, and Lillian to her home in Brookfield was daunting. Their journey had already been delayed a day to accommodate their new member.

  Lemuel was given the passenger seat in the front so that none of the others would jostle his arm. This left the back bench seat. Bryony slid up onto Grace’s lap and buried her face against the comforting shoulder. With a little shoving and wrestling, Hazel resigned herself to her brother George’s knees. Her hands held the seat back in front of her so as to put as much space between them as possible.

  With a flickering look of disbelief, Harrison opted to squeeze himself onto the bench seat against George. “It’s fine, Miss Lillian,” he insisted, “there’s still room for you ’ere next to me.”

  After she accepted the narrow remaining space, it took three attempts for Lillian to close the car door, but at last they were squeezed in together and bouncing along on their way, their luggage strapped precariously to the back of the vehicle, prairie dust filling the air behind them like a ticker-tape parade.

  The miles rolled past, and at last Lillian began to notice familiar landmarks. She could feel a sense of amazement rising up in her. She was going home. But she wasn’t alone. She glanced around the vehicle. The view of so many others so near at hand filled her with joy and fear. What was to become of them all? Were there truly going to be new families for them soon? How would her neighbors and friends react to the carload of people with whom she was returning?

  And then she laughed aloud, shaking her head. There was no doubt that the entire arrangement was a little bit crazy, and yet she couldn’t remember when she’d felt so alive with hope. The feeling came as a pleasant surprise. It had been far too long.

  Oh, Mother, her heart cried out, this is what you would’ve done. This is what you did! For me. You opened your home to a stranger. And now . . . well, have I ever followed your example more?

  At last they arrived on the edge of town and pulled up at Lillian’s front gate, just past the tall hedge and into the expansive yard. The children let out a collective gasp at the size of the house. Even Grace seemed rather shocked. They tumbled out from both sides of the vehicle and, as Lillian hurried to help Lemuel exit carefully, three children scattered around the yard following erratic paths, exclaiming over each new discovery they found.

  Before allowing anyone to enter the house, Grace insisted that their possessions needed to be unloaded. She called the little explorers back to the motorcar and had them standing in line promptly. They marched back and forth to the front porch with boxes and luggage as the driver untied each piece. Even Lemuel carried his share with his good arm.

  And then the car was gone. Lillian turned back toward the house and joined the cluster already standing on the porch. As Lillian pulled the key from her satin handbag, Grace reached out with an arm around her shoulder. “Before we go in, can we please pray a blessing on this house?”

  “Oh yes, let’s.”

  Impatient little feet shuffled in place. There was bumping and a few giggles, but Grace spoke aloud clearly. “Father, we’re so grateful—so grateful—that You brought us here to this moment. I’m just amazed how You chose us, Lord. Of all the people in the world, Your hand picked out the seven of us to come together in this home. We know You’ve already blessed us—with this house and with each other. Please help us to live here in a way that honors You. Help us to be a blessing to one another—to be Your hands and feet. We pray these things in Jesus’ name. Amen.”

  Lillian pushed the front door open and Grace began to speak instructions. But the children ran past heedlessly, rushing from room to room as they traversed their new home. Lemuel followed along behind them, less recklessly but still obviously inquisitive. Only Bryony remained in Grace’s arms. However, as the barrage of charging footsteps faded toward the second floor, Grace was able to set the little girl down in the entryway. They watched as curiosity got the best of her and Bryony became bold enough to look around at the ample rooms, to explore beyond the nearest corners.

  Lillian took the moment of quiet as a chance to approach Grace gently. “Do you remember it? At all?”

  A solemnness had fallen over her sister. “I’m not sure. I . . .” She passed through the doorway into the parlor. Ghostlike shrouds on the furniture made the room impossible to recognize, even for Lillian, who pulled the nearest white sheet away to reveal a chaise beneath it. Grace shook her head, turned away. Lillian felt she understood the reluctance. This wasn’t their mama’s furniture—it had belonged to Mother.

  Lillian moved farther into the parlor as though drawn by a magnet to the sheet that covered the largest object to one side of the room. Grace turned back to watch the white cloth slip slowly to the floor, revealing a grand piano. She drew in a deep breath, waited as Lillian lifted the polished wood cover to reveal glistening black and white keys. Wordlessly, Lillian let her hand reach out, and her fingers danced in a scale up the ivories. For a moment she was lost in her own world.

  Grace asked, “You play?”

  Lillian only nodded in reply.

  “Well?” queried Grace.

  She gave a reluctant smile. “I had a wonderful teacher—for many years.”

  “Would you play something? I’d so love . . .”

  But Lillian reached down and closed the cover over the keys. Shaking her head, she turned from the piano. “Later—I’m far too emotional at the moment. I’m sorry. Do you understand?”

  Grace nodded. Surely she could empathize with why Lillian was so affected by the instrument. Emotions came at odd times, from odd memories, and one could rarely determine the why and where. Grace smiled approvingly as they turned to leave the room, and Lillian tossed the large white sheet over the back of a chair instead of covering the piano again.

  Lillian, with Grace closely following, moved back to the foyer and entered the dining room. Here also the table and chairs had been covered when the house was closed. Lillian stepped aside just within the door, allowing her sister a full view. Grace shook her head again, then turned her back on the room.

  They moved down the short hall to the kitchen. Grace made her way around it, letting her hand slide across the back of a kitchen chair. She touched the silver-steel trim on the cold stove, the enamel surface of the wide farmhouse sink as Lillian silently watched her. At the baking cabinet, Grace reached for one of the glass knobs and opened a door for a moment. Still, she made no comment.

  At last Grace turned toward the short set of stairs that led away from the kitchen, joined the landing, and continued up toward the second floor. Without a word, she lowered herself onto the second step and looked back to survey the room. She closed her eyes.

  The thunder of children on the floor above spilled back down toward them. Lillian heard the click of a door opening. They just discovered the attic.

  Still her sister remained motionless, her eyes closed. At last she whispered, “I think I remember sitting her
e. I think I remember watching Mama.” When she opened her eyes, there were tears spilling over.

  Lillian hurried to take a seat next to her. They wrapped their arms around each other, brown hair resting against auburn, and sat in silence. Thumps and muffled shouts from above punctuated their moment of remembrance, but it didn’t matter. They were home—together again. It was a miracle.

  CHAPTER 8

  Bryony

  Settling into the large new home was exciting and chaotic. Lemuel watched and listened in silence from a nearby corner, waiting to be useful. The simple quiet of the farmer and his wife was a world away from this noisy crew—already a different lifetime, it seemed. Miss Lillian and Miss Grace discussed and reviewed such things as bedroom assignments and chores and schedules. Yet, on every point it seemed they felt their planning had fallen short, that much more discussion was necessary.

  First of all, there were six bedrooms on the second floor of the home. Lemuel had never seen—had not even conceived of—a private home with so many bedrooms. Four were a good size and two, he admitted, were rather small—still they were larger than the farmer’s pantry where he’d previously slept. Surely that’s more than we need. So why is there such confusion?

  At first it seemed that Miss Lillian would stay in what she called the master bedroom, where her parents had slept. Comfortable now with the sling supporting his cast, Lemuel set her traveling case at this door using his good arm. He didn’t dare to even open the door for a look inside. How fancy would a master bedroom be?

  But Miss Lillian seemed reluctant. She claimed to prefer her own room and suggested that Miss Grace take the largest quarters. So Lemuel hefted the cases again, switching possessions from one room to another.

  Instead of being grateful, Miss Grace declined. She claimed she’d rather not impose, preferring one of the two smallest rooms. So in the end, Lemuel moved Miss Grace’s belongings into the room at the end of the hall and the master was left empty. The entire conversation had Lemuel bewildered.