by Lori Wick
“Mr Jennings?” Marianne tried when they were alone.
The thoughtful man looked at her.
“May I tell you something?”
“Certainly.” Jennings’ eyes were now intent on Marianne.
“When my father was searching, a man told him that while God loves questions and that everything He wants us to know is in His Word, there might come a time when you need to stop working to figure it all out, realize you need a Savior, and fall down on your knees. My father has always said that those words helped him tremendously.”
For the space of several heartbeats, Jennings held her eyes and let the words sink in. At last he said “Thank you” in genuine appreciation.
“I must go,” Marianne said.
“Of course,” Jennings nodded, backing up so the carriage could move on its way.
He walked slowly to the house, still not realizing that the children had gone ahead and that Thomas was praying for his guardian as he never had before.
Jennings had never experienced a sleepless night. Yet he heard the chimes at midnight, one, two, three, and four. He had readied for bed at the usual time, but that had done little good. His heart in a quandary, he paced the floor of his room, checked on the children, stared out the window, lay back on the bed, and repeated the process for hours.
Sometime after four o’clock, he went for the Bible on his writing desk. He opened it but didn’t look at the words. With a hand to the pages, he prayed.
“Holy Father, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I yearn for something. I think it must be You, but I don’t know where to start.”
Jennings thought of the happy life he saw in the parishioners of Pastor Hurst’s church. The women were shy and sweet around him, not bold and brazen as they were at the parties in London. And Pastor Hurst himself! He had not turned out to be anything like Jennings had remembered.
And all of these thoughts ran through his mind before he made a close inspection of the Palmer family. There was no denying the genuineness of their faith. The children were well behaved and respectful. They adored their parents and enjoyed each other. Rarely did he see a squabble between them, and when he did, it was worked out with kind words, not accusations and shouting.
And Palmer and Lydia—Jennings didn’t know another couple who enjoyed each other more. They worked together even in tense situations, and unlike many other marriages Jennings had witnessed, they were devoted to each other and not joined in name only.
“I’ll go tomorrow,” Jennings prayed quietly. “I’ll see Palmer tomorrow, Father God.”
Even as he said this, Jennings wondered to whom he should be praying: the Father, Son, or Holy Spirit. Suddenly he was more tired than he’d ever been in his life. He went back to his bed and lay down, his heart a mixture of burden and peace. He had so many questions, but he was certain that Palmer would have the answers.
Blackburn Manor
“Are you all right, dear?” Mrs Walker asked of Marianne at the breakfast table, her hand reaching for the teapot.
“I didn’t sleep well,” the younger woman admitted, still not understanding why, as she absently accepted a hot cup of tea.
“Was it something you ate?”
“I don’t believe so.” Marianne reached for the toast rack. “Mr Jennings was on my mind, and I prayed for him a good deal.”
“That’s not surprising, dear.” Mrs Walker moved the butter dish closer to her child. “The conversation you had with him on the Trinity was most unusual. It was bound to stay on your mind.”
“You’re probably right,” Marianne said as she used the butter and preserves. “I sense that he’s ready to listen.”
Mrs Walker smiled. “I remember the day that happened for your father.”
“Mother,” Marianne interrupted her. “I can’t remember how long before Father you came to Christ.”
“Almost a year. I said little of the matter in those days. Your father was having a terrible struggle, and my peace seemed only to rattle him more.”
“I recall some of that. I mostly recall the peace in the house once the matter was settled.”
After exchanging a smile, the ladies ate breakfast in silence. Marianne was tired, and Mrs Walker’s mind had strayed again to a husband for her last daughter. She had been at peace over the situation for some weeks, but now she felt restless and anxious again.
Reaching for the newspaper, she scanned the words, but her mind was more prayerful than it was attentive to reading. Not all the anxious thoughts in the world would bring a man for her Marianne before God’s timing was right, and it was time to remember that.
Tipton
“Is it truly so simple, Palmer?”
“Salvation is from God, Jennings—it’s remarkably simple for Him. What it isn’t, is easy. I don’t mean for God, but for us. You can’t plan to live your life as you please once you’ve made that step. Salvation means you belong to Him. You no longer live for yourself. That doesn’t happen overnight, and all believers fail repeatedly, but the goal is to live for Christ each day.”
Jennings sat in silence. Seven weeks ago he wouldn’t have believed he could be having this conversation, but his heart was so ready, his mind so settled, that he couldn’t wait another day. He hadn’t even given eternity much thought, but he knew he needed help in his life. He needed peace and wisdom for the children, and suddenly it was perfectly clear that God could give him those things.
“What do I say?” Jennings asked.
Palmer opened his Bible. “Ephesians 2:8-9 says, ‘By grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God, not of works, lest any man should boast.’ Our salvation is from God, Jennings, but we do have something to do. Romans 10:9-10 says, ‘If thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved. For with the heart man believeth unto righteousness; and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation.’ Do those verses make sense to you?”
“Yes, but I’m still not sure what I need to say.”
“Let me show you a verse from Acts. It’s in chapter sixteen, verse thirty-one. A man has just asked Paul and Silas what he must do to be saved, and this is what they tell him: ‘Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.’”
“So I need to tell God that I believe in His Son?”
“Exactly. We come to God for salvation when we realize we need a Savior and can’t save ourselves. It’s your heart before God, telling Him what you need. There’s not a perfect prayer. If you’re admitting that you’re a sinner in need and you want Him to take care of that need, God will do it.”
Jennings’ hands covered his face. Palmer couldn’t tell if he was praying or not, so he remained quiet.
“I didn’t sleep much last night,” Jennings said quietly, his hands coming down. “I can’t help but wonder if God wasn’t involved in that.”
Palmer waited. When he didn’t reply, Jennings looked over at him.
“Can I take care of this today, Palmer? Can I pray now, or must I be in church for this?”
“You can take care of it right now.”
Jennings tipped his head back, his eyes open and looking up.
“Father God, I need You. I can’t do this on my own. My sins are many, the worst of which is my belief that I didn’t sin at all. I can see now that I sin every day. I believe the words I read in Luke. When Your Son died, He commended His spirit to You. I wish to do the same. Please save me. Please help me to raise Thomas, James, and Penny. Amen.”
Jennings looked across the room and then over at his brother-in-law. Palmer did nothing to hide the moisture in his eyes.
“Where’s Liddy?” Jennings asked quietly.
“I’ll get her.”
Not two minutes later Lydia was returning with Palmer, her face full of hopeful anticipation.
“Jennings?”
He met her in the middle of the room.
“It’s set
tled, Liddy. It’s all taken care of.”
Lydia could only hug him. Jennings hugged her back. How many years had she prayed, and now in just a few months of his being with them, he had seen his need.
“When will you tell the children?” she asked.
“I’m not sure.”
“They might figure it out on their own,” Palmer suggested, and Jennings smiled.
“They might.”
Suddenly the group laughed. It was a laugh born of relief, peace, and a measure of fatigue. Nevertheless it felt wonderful, and especially so when the little girls came looking for them just minutes later.
“Which pony is this?” Penny asked of Emma as Jennings got the cart underway.
“I think this is Bessy.”
“She’s pretty.”
Jennings, barely listening to the little girls’ chatter, sat amazed at the way life continued. He was not the same person. Just that morning the most astounding change had happened, but life still had to be lived. A small part of his mind wanted to stop people and tell them what had occurred, but because he didn’t do that, it made him more aware of the people in his life.
Never before had Jennings realized what a marvelous staff worked for him. They were efficient, and his life and home ran smoothly and comfortably because of the welloiled wheels they created. He wasn’t going to start gushing over them and make a fool of himself, but he did wonder if any of them had a personal relationship with God. Did any of them realize that nothing they did on this earth was as important as knowing God and His Son?
“Why did we stop, Uncle Jennings?” Emma suddenly asked him.
“Well, now, I guess I wasn’t paying attention. Walk on,” he ordered the pony who looked quite content to be standing and doing nothing.
“Let’s stop and pick flowers!” Lizzy suggested after they made a turn and were headed past the barn. “Can we do that?”
“May we,” Emma corrected her.
“May we, Uncle Jennings?”
“I think that would be fine. What will you collect them in?”
“Our bonnets!” Penny chimed in, but Jennings didn’t think that the best idea.
“There’s a little space in the rear. Maybe we can put them there.”
As though they’d been promised the moon, the girls tumbled from the cart and into the field of wildflowers with great abandon. In little time at all, they had flowers aplenty and only one scare with a honeybee.
Amid all this, Jennings found himself doing it again: He picked a flower, a small yellow bloom with a dark center, and for the first time thought about its creation. His mind wandered to the book of Genesis, and he wondered if the creation of flowers was covered in those chapters.
“Mr Jennings?”
Jennings looked down to see Penny addressing him.
“Yes, Penny.”
“I have to be excused.”
“We’ll go with you, Penny,” Emma offered before Jennings could reply, and that man watched as the little girls began to move to the trees.
“Go where, Emma?” Jennings finally managed.
That little girl stopped and turned.
“To the secret spot. The one we go to with Marianne.”
This said, the girls continued on their way. Jennings did not take them seriously until he saw that they were indeed headed directly into the trees. He hurried to catch up, his long legs covering the distance in a hurry, but by the time he arrived, he found nothing. He was on the verge of calling out when he heard soft female voices.
Following the sounds, he realized the girls were inside a group of bushes. Talking all the while and with the occasional giggle, they took matters into their own hands. Not until that moment did he realize that they’d said Miss Walker brought them here.
Jennings didn’t know the last time he’d wanted to laugh so hard. The lovely, dignified, always-a-perfect-lady Marianne Walker brought these little girls to the forest for their personal needs when the house seemed a bit far away.
He decided suddenly that he didn’t wish to be caught waiting too closely for the girls, so with chuckles still shaking his shoulders, Jennings made his way back out of the trees to wait at the edge of the copse. He didn’t have long to linger. The girls appeared a short time later, but in those few moments he realized that he wanted Miss Walker to know of his decision. He wasn’t certain how he should go about it, but it was suddenly important to him that she know.
“Uncle Jennings? I think we should take our flowers back now.”
Jennings looked to where the girls had walked beyond him, back to the field. They had stopped when he didn’t follow.
“You’re going to have to keep your wits about you, Jennings,” he muttered to himself as he moved to join them. “All right, girls. We’ll take the flowers back.”
Skipping and laughing all the while, the little girls went to scoop up their treasured bouquets and head to the cart. Bessy was just about asleep by then, but Jennings roused her with the reins and they ventured back to the house.
Jennings turned his head to look down at his three charges, and they chose that moment to look up at him. Their smiles were like a tonic for his wandering thoughts. Asking questions about their favorite flowers and gaining fascinating answers, he talked with the three of them all the way back to Tipton’s front door.
Chapter Fifteen
Thornton Hall
“I wish to tell you something, Thomas,” Jennings began that evening when the two of them were alone.
“Yes, sir?”
It had seemed easy in his mind, but now, looking into Thomas Jennings’ open and trusting eyes, the guardian was at a loss for words.
Thomas continued to wait, his expression not changing, but the longer the silence continued, the tenser he became. He shifted a bit in his seat, and that was enough to snap Jennings from his wordless state.
“I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time, Thomas, and when a man does that he doesn’t believe he has many needs.” Jennings stopped and studied the young man’s face. “Then you and Penny and James came into my life. I’m sorry for your loss, but I’m not sorry for my gain. You know better than anyone how ill-equipped I was to see to your needs. And not until I got to know my sister and Palmer again did I realize the real source of having one’s needs met.”
Thomas began to smile. “If I may say so, sir, you seem rather at peace today.”
Jennings smiled back at him. “I had no idea, Thomas. I didn’t know that anyone could know for certain. My heart was burdened down. I didn’t see how much until the burden was lifted.”
“Thank you for telling me, sir. I’m extremely glad for you.”
“And I for you too, Thomas,” Jennings admitted soberly. “I wanted to know God so that I could be the guardian you needed.”
Thomas found that he couldn’t speak. His young heart had worked hard to trust in God’s care when he missed his father so much, but at times he felt so faithless. His throat began to close in an alarming fashion. He suddenly rose and went to the window. He stood still, hands clenched in his pockets in an effort to contain himself, and after several moments he turned, ready to face Jennings.
“I don’t think we thank you enough for everything you’ve done, Mr Jennings. Please accept my thanks now.”
“I appreciate that, Thomas, but don’t feel that you must constantly shower me with thanks. None of you are in the habit of taking things for granted. I witness that fact every day.”
Thomas nodded, but his face didn’t look overjoyed. Jennings had observed young Frank with that expression one day, and Palmer had immediately asked his oldest son what was on his mind.
“If there is something you need, Thomas, I hope you’ll tell me.”
Thomas came back and sat down, a move so mature that Jennings could only stare at him.
“I don’t know if I can term it a need, sir, but I have been thinking of Morehouse,” Thomas told him.
“I think it’s time to make a date to visit,” Jennin
gs responded, needing no other prompting. “Your birthday is in eleven days. Lydia is planning a party. Why don’t we go a week or two after that?”
“That sounds excellent.”
“Which shall it be? A week or two weeks?”
They consulted a calendar and saw that two weeks put them into August, a warm time of the year.
“Two weeks, I think. The breezes at Morehouse are nice at that time of year.”
“Not to mention your brother’s request to go sea bathing.”
“Will we do that?”
“Certainly.”
Jennings witnessed a smile on Thomas’ face that he had not seen before. Years melted from his already young face, and he laughed.
“Sea bathing! Penny’s going to talk of nothing else.”
“And what about you?” Jennings asked, suddenly wanting to offer this child the world in a silver spoon. “Will you enjoy it?”
“Yes,” Thomas said, his mouth still stretched into a smile. “I’ll enjoy it.”
Before Thomas could finish his answer, a knock sounded on the door. James came into view, book in hand.
“Oh, here you are. I lost track of you, Thomas.”
“I thought you’d gone to bed, James,” his brother said.
“I was reading in the chair and fell asleep. Then I woke and checked your room. You weren’t in bed, so I thought I’d find you.”
“We’ve just been making plans to visit Morehouse and go sea bathing.”
“Sea bathing?” James questioned, his face lighting up as Thomas’ had. “When is this?”
“A few weeks after our birthday.”
“Does Penny know? She’ll talk of nothing else.”
Jennings laughed, and the boys laughed with him.
“We’ll tell her in the morning.”
“Why can’t we tell her now?” James asked.
“She’s sleeping,” Jennings said simply.
“No, she’s not. She was awake and followed me down.”
Jennings went to the door of the study and there in the dark hallway staring up at him with a serious face was a dark-haired moppet in a pink flannel gown.
