“Was he in an accident?” Belinda sat at the table, and Peter pushed the telegram across the surface to her.
“See for yourself. Not an accident. He was beaten.” Peter shook his head, clicking his tongue. “A man older than me. Too old to be fighting, for sure.”
“Beaten?” Belinda couldn’t imagine something so horrendous. The Mennonites were firm believers in nonviolence. She read the brief telegram, noting the statement about Clarence and the plea for prayer. Then she read the final lines, and her heart leaped. Her chin shot upward and she gaped at Peter. “But . . . but Thomas is . . . ?”
Peter’s mustache twitched, and his eyes suddenly brightened. “
Ja
, you see the other part he tells us.”
“When Clarence is well, I am returning to Kansas. Tell Belinda I need to speak with her.”
Peter nodded. “
Goot
news,
ja
?”
T
HOMAS
ADDED ANOTHER LOG
to the fireplace in the corner of Nadine’s best guestroom. He crouched in front of the flickering flame, staring at the reflection in the molded brass cheek. Although the image was distorted, he could still make out Daphne’s slender form leaning forward to place a cool rag over Clarence’s swollen forehead.
His hands trembled at the sight of self-important Daphne Severt ministering to a humble, black servant. Pressing his palms to his knees, he pushed to his feet and turned just as Daphne turned from the bed. Their gazes collided. Although her face was pale, her lips unsmiling, and her eyes sad, her beauty still made his breath catch.
He crossed slowly to the bed and stood beside her. “You could use a rest,” he whispered. His fingers itched to smooth the purple smudges beneath her eyes. “You don’t have to stay here.”
“Yes, I do, Thomas. I can’t leave until he wakes up. I must . . . I must thank him for what he did.”
Thomas nodded. He looked at Clarence, and the anger he had been trying to hold back cut through him once again. When Nadine had summoned him because Clarence had been injured, Thomas assumed there had been a carriage accident or perhaps a fall in the house. But to discover that two men beat Clarence because he dared to defend Daphne . . . How could men be so cruel to another human being?
“Thomas?”
Daphne’s soft, wavering voice captured Thomas’s attention. “Yes?”
“I have something I need to discuss with you.”
Thomas gestured to the small settee that faced the fireplace. They sat side by side on opposite ends of the settee, and Daphne fixed him with a serious look.
“I came to your cottage yesterday evening to talk to you. But with Clarence there . . .” She paused, glancing toward the bed. “I was so foolish to refuse to talk in front of a servant. In front of a colored man. I feel so ashamed, Thomas.” Tears swam in her eyes.
Thomas resisted taking her hand. “It doesn’t matter what you did then,” he assured her. “What matters is what you’re doing now.”
She looked at him and nodded. She licked her lips, swallowed, and spoke again. “In the Bible—”
Thomas’s heart nearly stopped with those words.
“—a man asks Jesus what he must do to inherit eternal life, and Jesus tells him to give up all he possesses and follow Him. But I know there is more to it than giving up material wealth. I know the heart is somehow involved.” Her words tripped out quickly, almost uncontrolled, like a brook splashing down a mountainside. “The Bible also talks about God sending His Son to save the world.” Drawing back, she clasped her hands beneath her chin and implored him with her dark eyes. “I want to be saved, Thomas. I want to know God like you do. Please, please tell me what I must do so I can do it quickly.”
Shifting so his knees touched hers, Thomas leaned forward. “All you have to do is believe that Jesus is the Son of God who died to be your Savior and ask Him into your heart.”
Her eyes widened. “That’s all?”
He grinned. “That’s all.”
“Then I must do it. Right now. Should I kneel?”
Although Thomas knew Daphne’s prayer would reach God’s ears regardless of her position, he understood the importance of humbling oneself before God. He nodded and watched her slip unhesitatingly to the floor. He marveled that Daphne—the Daphne who had so recently proclaimed her superiority—would be willing to kneel where Nadine, Mildred, or the doctor could walk in and see her. Her action convinced him of her genuine desire to become a child of God.
He joined her on the carpet and bowed his head. Tears stung his closed eyelids as he listened to her say the words that would impact her soul for all eternity. When finished, she raised her tear-stained face to Thomas. The light shining in her eyes brought a rush of delight so overwhelming Thomas laughed out loud.
She laughed, too, the sound light and joy-filled. Pressing both hands to her chest, she said with awe, “He’s in there. I
feel
Him, Thomas. He’s with me.”
“And He’ll never leave you or forsake you,” Thomas promised. Taking her hands, he helped her to her feet. She didn’t even brush the wrinkles from her skirt.
“Thank you. Thank you for helping me.”
Thomas couldn’t reply. His heart ached with regret for not sharing God with Daphne sooner. Yet at the same time, he celebrated the decision she had made. God had worked His wonder despite Thomas’s failings.
Thank You, Father, for your endless mercy.
Behind them, someone cleared her throat, making both Thomas and Daphne whirl around. Nadine and Mildred stood in the open doorway. Nadine held her arm protectively around Mildred’s sloped shoulders. “How is Clarence? Any change?”
Daphne shook her head. “Still sleeping.” She took a few stumbling steps toward Mildred. “I’m so sorry.” Mildred puckered her face. “You didn’t do nothin’ wrong, so you don’t need to say sorry to me.”
Daphne closed the gap between herself and the older black woman. She enfolded Mildred in her arms. Her cheek pressed to Mildred’s, she whispered, “Thank you for your kindness.” She pulled back. “May I . . . may I stay? Thomas, will you teach me how to pray for Clarence?”
Nadine gave a start, her eyes widening. Thomas understood her reaction. He would never have expected such unselfishness from Daphne.
Nadine quickly regained her composure. Taking Daphne’s hand, she said, “We never refuse prayers. Do we, Mildred?” Shifting her gaze to include Thomas, she lifted her chin. “Let’s all combine our hearts in appeal to the heavenly Father for Clarence’s full recovery.”
“You will not spend another day at the bedside of that servant!”
At Father’s explosive order, Daphne bit down on the end of her tongue. For the past four days, Harry had transported her to Nadine Steadman’s, where she helped care for Clarence as he recovered from the vicious attack. Not until this evening at dinner had Father casually questioned her whereabouts over the weekend. Her truthfulness had brought about an abrupt change in his demeanor.
Now a war raged in her soul as she pondered her alternatives. During the hours Clarence slept, she and Mrs. Steadman studied and discussed the Bible. She knew she was expected to honor her parents. She also knew she was to love her neighbor as herself. Which admonition should she follow in this situation?
Apparently Father read her silence as consent, because he released a satisfied grunt, picked up his knife and fork, and cut another bite of roast. As he lifted the bite of beef to his mouth, Daphne found her compromise.
“May I just go for this week, Father?” By the end of the week Clarence probably would have recovered enough to have no more need of around-the-clock care. Despite the doctor’s grim prognosis, the prayers of Thomas, Nadine, Mildred, and Daphne were being answered. Clarence showed daily improvement.
Father threw the fork onto his plate. The piece of meat bounced from the prongs and landed on the linen tablecloth.
Mother sucked air through her teeth. “Stanton, please pick that up before the gravy stains the cloth.”
The servant stepped from the serving table to Father’s side while Father grated through clenched teeth, “No daughter of mine will lower herself to care for a mere household servant!”
Stanton’s face remained emotionless, but Daphne noticed hurt in his eyes as he plucked up the fallen piece of meat with a folded napkin. Daphne gave the man an apologetic look and waited until he left the dining room before softly addressing her father. “Surely you won’t deny me the honor of caring for the man who risked his life to assist me.”
Father’s lips pinched together, his jaw muscles twitching. His initial outrage upon learning of Daphne’s rough treatment at campaign headquarters had changed to excuse-making when she described her attackers. “Ah,” he had said, “college lads, no doubt, with too much ale in their systems. An unfortunate incident, certainly, but no real harm done.”
Daphne felt indignation rise once again as she remembered not only her fear that night but the very real harm done to poor Clarence. She took a slow breath, prayed for guidance, and continued in a low, passionate voice. “There is a verse in Matthew in which Jesus instructs His disciples to love your neighbor as yourself. Clarence cared for me by coming to my rescue. I only wish to repay him by—”
Father roared to life. “You have amply repaid him by transporting him to his home where his mistress could see to his needs!” He pointed at her, his brows forming a stern line. “And I forbid you to speak again of the Bible. We wouldn’t be dealing with that religious nonsense had I curtailed your friendship with Ollen-burger from the beginning.” He settled back in his chair, tossing his napkin from his lap to his plate. “Ollenburger . . .” He sent a frustrated look across the table to Mother. “At least we needn’t be concerned about him anymore.”
Father’s gaze swung to Harry, who continued to eat in silence as if oblivious to the battle being waged around the table. “Your chum submitted his resignation this morning, and after all I’ve done for him! He offered to remain for a few weeks until a replacement could be found, and I told him to pack his belongings and get out. I can tell you, I was angry at the time, but now I’m glad to see the boy go. The sooner, the better! Maybe once he’s back in Kansas, things will return to normal.”
Harry’s nervous glance flitted from Daphne to Father and back to his plate. Without a word, he put another bite of potatoes in his mouth, but Daphne’s appetite fled. Thomas was leaving Boston? Why hadn’t he told her? She had seen him each day when he’d come to visit Clarence, yet he’d never said a word. She swallowed hard to maintain control of her emotions. She would mourn the loss of Thomas, but first she must deal with something else—Father’s mistaken idea that with Thomas’s departure, her “religion” would disappear.
“Father, as I told you the other evening, I have accepted Jesus Christ into my heart. Thomas did influence me, but the decision was entirely my own. Jesus is now a part of me, and He’s not going away.”
“Bah!” Father pushed away from the table. His red face glowed with barely controlled fury. “And as
I
told
you
the other evening, you’re a foolish, impetuous girl going through a religious phase. It will pass.”
“Please, Father, I—”
He rose, leaning toward her. “Remember your place, Daphne. If you cannot do that, you will not be welcome at my table. Harry!”
Harry sat upright.
“I’m going to headquarters. Come along.”
Without a word, Harry followed Father from the room. The slam of the back door signaled their departure.
Daphne looked toward her mother, but Mother turned away from her. “I will not defend your actions, Daphne. Your father is right—you’ve always been impetuous and selfish.”
Daphne jumped up from the table and made her way to the library. She crossed the darkening room to the settee—the place where she had first encountered Jesus through the words written in God’s book. Dropping to her knees, she bowed her head and closed her eyes. “Lord, why does doing the right thing hurt so much?”
“So you’re leaving us, hmm?” Pardue leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb, his arms crossed, and watched Thomas pack the contents of his desk.
“You still here?” Thomas had chosen the late hour to clean out his office because he thought all of the employees had gone home.
“I’m still here. I’ll be visiting the different campaign headquarters over the evening, interviewing people, getting their thoughts about the election. Always interesting how every group thinks their own candidate will win.”
The man pushed off from the door and ambled to Thomas’s desk. “So . . . Severt said you’re not only leaving the paper, you’re leaving Boston. That true?” He picked up a glass paperweight and bounced it in his hand.
A rush of eagerness washed over Thomas. He was going home. Kansas . . . Pa and Summer . . . his sisters. He knew he would miss many aspects of Boston, yet returning to Kansas felt right. He had remained in Boston long enough to learn what he needed, and now he would follow the pathway God had outlined for him.
“Yes, sir, it’s true. And it’s partly because of you.”
Pardue stopped tossing the paperweight, his eyebrows shooting high. “Me?”
“Yes. You told me the way to make sure I could write what I wanted to was to start my own paper. So that’s what I’m going to do. I plan to start a paper in Kansas, aimed toward the Mennonite population.”
“Kind of a limited readership, isn’t it?” Pardue asked.
Thomas answered with a light chuckle. “Not where I grew up. And who knows? Maybe it’ll spread to other Mennonite communities, as well. Until it does, I’ll also be working with my father, helping him establish a chicken farm at our old homestead. You see . . .” He paused, chewing the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. “I’ve figured out we Mennonites need to make some changes— increase our awareness of what’s going on in the world. We live in the United States, and that means we’re affected by the decisions made by the leaders of the country, yet we don’t involve ourselves in the process of choosing leaders.” He considered the battle he might face when church leaders realized his intent. Change didn’t always come easily, but sometimes it was needed. “I think we need to be informed. So that’s what I plan to do—publish a newspaper that will provide necessary information while honoring our Mennonite heritage.”