Stephanie Grace Whitson - [Quilt Chronicles] (44 page)

He bowed his head. “Most gracious heavenly Father, we know that somehow, You are in what happened in the night, but right now the truth is we can’t see it. Right now, all we see is pain and sadness. Please comfort the ladies at this table. Make Your presence known to Mrs. Harrison and everyone involved with the Friendship Home. Please shine a light on the path You wish them to walk and give them the strength to follow that path. We know that You cared a great deal about children when You walked this earth, and so we trust that You will care for Johnny. Thank You for the Friendship Home and for the generosity that created it. And for this meal and the hands that prepared it. Help us to be the people that You died for us to be. I ask these things in the mighty name of our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.”

Cass had just spread his napkin across his lap when Miss Theodora blurted out, “Who on earth taught you to pray like that?”

“Sister,” Aunt Lydia sent a warning glance Miss Theodora’s way.

“Don’t look so disapproving. I merely asked a question.
You
don’t pray like that, either.”

Aunt Lydia sighed. “Please don’t attack the dear boy over syntax. It was a lovely prayer.”

Miss Theodora pursed her lips. “Do you feel under attack, Mr. Gregory?”

“A little.” Cass suppressed a smile. “But I’m getting used to it.”

Miss Theodora glanced at her sister. “Some people at this table think that I am merely exercising my right to be an ill-tempered old maid, but the truth is—I’m interested in this matter of how one relates to the Almighty.” She paused. “So please. Enlighten me on the subject of prayer.”

Cass set his soupspoon down. He took a sip of water and thought for a moment. Then he said, “The first man I ever met who brought his faith with him when church was over prayed that way. I was a terrified fourteen-year-old who’d run away from home to join the Union Army, and Arnie—I never learned his story. But he wasn’t an educated man. He could barely read the Bible he kept tucked in his shirt pocket. Still, it seemed to me that Arnie knew God better than anyone I’d ever known. He talked to God about everything. The men in the regiment made fun of him at first, but it wasn’t long before they were asking him to pray for them. Almost giving him lists of the things they wanted.”

“And I suppose God gave Arnie everything he prayed for?”

“No, ma’am.” Cass shook his head. “After a while it seemed to a lot of us that more often than not, God didn’t answer at all.”

“And yet you still pray in the same manner this Arnie did. With simplistic language.”

Cass nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Arnie used to quote a verse that said that God sees the heart. He took that to mean there was no reason to dress things up. Unless of course, we were praying to impress people with fancy words. Which, Arnie said, isn’t prayer at all.”

“Does God answer you any more often than He did your friend?”

“I believe God always answers,” Cass said. “He just doesn’t always say yes.”

Miss Theodora snorted. “Balderdash.”

“Sister!” Aunt Lydia scolded.

Cass shrugged. “I told Arnie once that God wasn’t answering me, and he asked me how I knew. When I said, ‘Because nothing’s changed,’ Arnie just smiled and said, ‘Son, sometimes the thing that needs changing is you.’”

After supper, Cass was surprised when Miss Theodora lingered in the kitchen, helping him and Juliana clear the table while Aunt Lydia went on into the library alone. When piano music sounded, he turned to Miss Theodora and said, “I didn’t know Aunt Lydia played the piano.”

“Hymns. She says they bring her comfort.”

Cass smiled. “I’m relieved that you’re still speaking to me. I didn’t mean to offend at supper.”

“
Not
speaking would make it difficult for you to apologize,” the old woman said, as she picked up a knife and began to cut the pie Martha had left on the counter. “You are going to apologize, aren’t you? You were rather impertinent.” She began to serve up the pie while Juliana poured coffee and Cass wiped down the table.

“If you felt that I was being impertinent, then I do sincerely apologize. Although I would like to make the point that sometimes it only
seems
that a person is being impertinent, when what they are really doing is presenting a differing opinion.”

“I see.” Miss Theodora began to set the dessert plates on the tray Cass was holding. “You do realize that your ‘differing opinion’ suggests that my conversations with the Almighty seem to be one sided because I refuse to change.”

Cass cleared his throat. “But I didn’t
say
that.”

“It was implied.” Miss Theodora put the serving piece in the sink and shooed him ahead of her toward the library.

Juliana retired late that evening, bent on savoring the lingering sensation of Cass’s kiss on her check, determined to ignore the locket she hadn’t looked at in weeks. But after she’d stood at the bedroom window watching as Cass rode away, she lost the battle to ignore the day and sleep … just … sleep.

Before long, she was once again seated at her dressing table, looking down at the images by the light of a shaded kerosene lamp. She wondered if Caroline was sitting in the stone cottage at this very moment, poring over her husband’s Bible, looking for comfort. It was easy to envision her doing so.

Was Johnny back at the stone cottage sleeping in his own crib? Juliana looked down at the locket. She supposed not. He would likely be on the third floor now with the other babies.
Eligible for adoption.

Juliana peered down at the photograph with new eyes. Caroline had said that Jenny was beautiful. And the girl in the portrait was. She took a deep, wavering breath. “I worried about you,” she said. “When Sterling died … after a while … when the first round of anger melted … I worried about you.” She took a deep breath.

I don’t know what to do.

Juliana woke to the sound of the piano. A hymn—but from the skill and the amount of embellishment, a hymn being played by Aunt Theodora:

Could the answer be that simple? Just to talk to God about it? The way Cass did? The way his friend in the army had?

Sliding out of bed, Juliana knelt and bowed her head. She took it all to the Lord in prayer, pouring out her pain and anger. Her sense of betrayal. She talked through the joy of Friendship Home and wept through the hurt from reading Jenny’s full name in her folder yesterday. Then she thanked God for Cass, and something happened. As she thanked God, the hurt and anger retreated into the shadows. She remembered the day last month when she’d gone out to Friendship Home alone to say good-bye. She’d ended up with such a stream of things to be thankful for that she’d wept with joy. She had even more to be thankful for now. She began to say them aloud. More healing. More joy. More love.

“What a Friend” ended, and Miss Theodora segued flawlessly into another hymn:

Dear Aunt Theodora. “Please take her guilt away,” Juliana whispered. “I don’t know what it’s about except for the name Felix. But You know. Please, Lord … help her to let go of it. Let her know joy.”

Let go.

“While life’s dark maze I tread, and griefs around me spread, be Thou my Guide; Bid darkness turn to day, wipe sorrow’s tears away, Nor let me ever stray from Thee aside.”

The locket still lay on her dressing table. Rising from her knees, Juliana crossed the room and opened it once again. Tears gathered as she looked down at the faces.

And she knew what to do.

Love ye your enemies, and do good, and lend, hoping for nothing again; and your reward shall be great, and ye shall be the children of the Highest.
L
UKE
6:35

J
uliana dressed in the half-light just as the sun rose above the barren horizon off to the east. The sky was clear. It would be another cold day. Her hands trembled as she did her hair. Still holding the comb, she paused to pray aloud. “If this isn’t right, show me.” Taking a few deep breaths, she finished her hair and descended the front stairs. For a while, she stood in the parlor, looking up at the portrait of herself hanging above the fireplace. She’d been so young. So breathless with love.

Leaving the parlor, she ventured into the library. The hymnal was still there. Still open to “My Faith Looks Up to Thee.” She read the words aloud. “‘May Thy rich grace impart strength to my fainting heart.’” She smiled. Fancy words for
help me, help me, help me.

She retreated to the kitchen to make tea and wait for Cass. When she saw him ride in, she rose and went to the window. She knew it wouldn’t always be this way. She wouldn’t always thrill at the very sight of him. Over time, the emotions would mellow into something less chaotic yet just as wondrous. But for now … for now this was good. It was good to see him take off his hat as he headed up the back steps and then, when he realized she was there, to see him smile. To have him reach for her hands and lean down to plant a gentle kiss on her lips. And then, when she stepped close, a not-so-gentle one on her lips … her neck … and then … to stop. For now.

She closed her eyes and reveled in his warmth for a moment before murmuring, “I love you for saying we’ll do this together, but … I was up half the night thinking … praying … and I want to speak with Caroline on my own.” She pulled away and looked up at him. “I need to.”

He smiled. “Tell me.”

And she did. She recounted praying on her knees and listening to Aunt Theodora playing hymns, and how everything seemed to fall into place. “I told you I didn’t know what to do, but now … I think I do. And I love you for holding me and letting me cry, for being willing to go with me, for all of it. But this is about Sterling and me, and I have to make peace with it on my own.”

He searched her eyes. Nodded. “All right. When you leave, I’ll head home and change and go on to work.”

They cooked eggs and ate breakfast together before Martha came in for the day, and then, when it was late enough that Juliana wouldn’t be dragging Caroline out of bed to talk, Cass went out to hitch the buggy for her. When Juliana climbed aboard, he wrapped her feet with a blanket.

“Keep your feet—”

“On the foot warmer.” Juliana smiled. “And my nose out of the cold wind. Although you would love me, even if I froze my nose off.”

“Absolutely.” He mounted Baron and rode alongside the buggy for fully half a mile, then blew her a kiss and split off toward town.