Silent Star (11 page)

EIGHT

For the first time since losing his mother, Andy allowed himself the privilege of feeling loved and blessed. He thought it was what she would have wanted for him, remembering that even as she grew more ill she had told him that her dearest wish was that he would be happy.

Slipping away to the cemetery before joining Mrs. Nelson for Christmas brunch, Andy felt the weight of his misery slip away. God had taken the burden from Andy’s shoulders and now bore it in Andy’s stead.

Pushing back the little wrought-iron gate, Andy walked into the snow-covered cemetery not with a heart of sadness, but with one of liberty—freedom.

He paused at his parents’ headstones and bent down to brush away the new snow. He then dusted off the pine wreath and adjusted its placement between the markers.

“I know you’re both in heaven—certainly not here in the ground.” He then looked skyward, the brilliant crystal blue almost hurting his eyes.

“I miss you, but you’d both be pleased to know that I’m going to be all right. I couldn’t say that a few weeks ago. I wasn’t sure I would ever be anything more than the mess I’d made of myself. But now . . . now I have a new confidence in God. I will still miss you, still think about you every day. But I know where you are. And one day, I’ll be there too.”

****

Later that day as they made their way to Mary Beth’s house, Andy told Mrs. Nelson of his visit to the cemetery. “It wasn’t like before. If you hadn’t wandered along that other time, I think I would have lain down and died right there and then.”

“God knew what we needed.”

“We?” Andy looked up at her. “What do you mean?”

Mary Beth came out of the house to greet them. “Merry Christmas! Come inside and get warm!”

Estella squeezed Andy’s arm. “I’ll tell you later.”

Andy smiled at the older woman. She was such a sweet, gentle soul, so very much like his mother.

The day passed in joyful celebration. Kay had gone to spend the day with her parents, leaving just the Isemans and their daughters. Mrs. Iseman was in particularly good spirits.

“My best friend, Melba, heard that her boy is safe,” she told them as they sat down to the table. “I’ve decided not to borrow trouble regarding Sammy. I know that no matter what happens, it’s all in God’s keeping and I can trust Him for the outcome. I know too we’ll all band together if the worst does happen.”

Andy looked up to meet her gaze. There was peace in her expression, a peace that matched his own heart. Tomorrow he would again take up his job and deliver telegrams. Again he would be the bearer of bad tidings. But somehow things had changed. He knew it would be different—not because anyone else was different, but rather because he had changed.

They shared a wonderful meal in spite of the war rations and shortages. Mr. Iseman had managed to obtain a nice pork roast for their holiday feast. His brother, who had taken over the farm, had insisted on sharing part of their bounty. There were fried potatoes, creamed corn, and pickled beets. Mrs. Iseman had made fresh bread, and Estella had brought some wonderful cookies that she and Mary Beth had concocted one afternoon.

Andy ate until he knew he couldn’t possibly eat another bite. Never had anything tasted so good. One by one they told stories of Christmases past, of Sammy, of better days. After the meal was cleared away, they gathered around the piano and Mrs. Iseman played Christmas carols while they all sang.

The afternoon slipped away from them and soon evening
darkened the skies. Just as they were gathering their coats, Mary Beth came forward with a little knitted bundle.

“This is for you, Andy,” she said rather shyly.

Andy took the gift and unfolded it. It was a hand-knit scarf. The light blue color matched Mary Beth’s eyes. “It’s wonderful. Did you make it?”

She nodded. “I knew your old one was pretty thin.”

Andy wrapped it around his neck and nodded. “This is much warmer. Thank you.”

Mary Beth smiled and looked down as if embarrassed. Andy knew it would take very little to lose his heart to her. Maybe there
would
be time for love . . . in spite of the war.

Helping Mrs. Nelson into her coat, Andy thanked the Isemans for their invitation. Then Mrs. Iseman hugged him. “Be safe, Andy. And don’t be afraid when you come here next time with a telegram. No matter the news, I won’t blame you.”

Andy choked back his emotion and nodded. “Thank you.”

Andy helped Mrs. Nelson down the stairs and continued to hold on to her arm as they made their way back to her house.

“It was a marvelous day,” Estella said, looking up at the night sky. “You’ve given this old woman a precious gift, I hope you know.”

Andy looked at her oddly. He’d given her nothing—in fact, he’d felt quite remiss for not at least wrapping up something of his mother’s to offer her for Christmas.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean you gave of yourself, Andy. You gave your time and your heart. For years I begged God for a child, a son. It was like a thorn in my flesh that I could never have children.” She paused as they reached her house. “I know you belong to others, but in a small way, I feel God has given you to me.”

Andy felt a warmth spread over him. “I feel the same way. I wasn’t ready to be without a mother. God knew that and sent you into my life.”

Estella’s eyes filled with tears. “I’d like very much to be there for you in whatever way you need me, Andy.” She paused
and seemed to struggle with what she wanted to say next. “Andy, I don’t know how you might feel about this, but I’d like to make a proposition.”

“Go ahead. You have my complete attention.” She’d stirred his curiosity.

“I have this big old house all to myself—and there is a war on, don’tcha know.” She smiled and gently squeezed his arm. “I’d like you to come here and share my home—if you’re of a mind to do so. I’d like to cook and clean for you, to take care of you . . . until you convince that sweet Mary Beth that it’s her job to do so.”

“Mary Beth?” Andy asked uncomfortably. “Why, she’s just a friend.” He didn’t sound convincing even to himself.

Estella looked up at him and smiled. “That remains to be seen. Either way, would you at least think about my proposal?”

Andy thought of the loneliness he felt each time he stepped through the doors of his parents’ house. Someday he might not feel that way. Someday it might make a good home for his own family. He smiled and thought of Estella’s comment. It might make a good home with Mary Beth. But right now the gift Mrs. Nelson offered him was exactly what he needed.

“I’d like very much to move in with you. I’d like to know that there’s someone waiting for me at the end of the day. Someone who loves me . . . someone I love.”

Estella reached out to him. “Oh, Andy. Only God loves you more than I do.”

Andy hugged her close.
Thank you, God. Thank you for the gift of this woman’s friendship and love.

Estella pulled back and dabbed at her eyes. They stood in the cold night air, the darkness enveloping them like an embrace. “Look at the stars, Andy. So many—so crisp and clear—almost as if you could reach out and touch them.”

“Like the stars you said the congregation put on the Christmas tree at church. It’s like each one is a memorial to those who’ve sacrificed their lives,” Andy murmured.

“What a wonderful thought, Andy. It is indeed like that,” Estella replied. “And how appropriate. When Jesus came into this world, a star appeared in the skies in His honor.”

Andy shook his head. “I’m not sure I understand.”

Estella smiled. “Jesus came as the ultimate sacrifice for freedom. A star marked His arrival. The wise men went to find Him, led only by that star and God’s hand. Now we look to the skies and remember those who’ve fought in this war—who’ve given their lives that others might live in peace and freedom. It just seems a special way to remember them and to remember what God has given us.”

Andy put his arm around Mrs. Nelson and looked back up at the silent stars. No blue, no gold—just the wonder of God’s handiwork and the precious reminder of His selfless love—a love that made life worth living.

TRACIE PETERSON is the bestselling, award-winning author of more than 80 novels. Tracie also teaches writing workshops at a variety of conferences on subjects such as inspirational romance and historical research. She and her family live in Belgrade, Montana.

Visit Tracie’s Web site at:
www.traciepeterson.com

     Books by Tracie Peterson     

www.traciepeterson.com

House of Secrets • A Slender Thread • Where My Heart

Belongs

L
AND OF THE
L
ONE
S
TAR

Chasing the Sun 
• Touching the Sky
Taming the Wind

B
RIDAL
V
EIL
I
SLAND
*

To Have and To Hold 
• 
To Love and Cherish
To Honor and Trust

S
ONG OF
A
LASKA

Dawn’s Prelude • Morning’s Refrain • Twilight’s Serenade

S
TRIKING A
M
ATCH

Embers of Love • Hearts Aglow • Hope Rekindled

A
LASKAN
Q
UEST

Summer of the Midnight Sun
Under the Northern Lights • Whispers of Winter
Alaskan Quest (3 in 1)

B
RIDES OF
G
ALLATIN
C
OUNTY

A Promise to Believe In • A Love to Last Forever
A Dream to Call My Own

T
HE
B
ROADMOOR
L
EGACY
*

A Daughter’s Inheritance • An Unexpected Love
A Surrendered Heart

B
ELLS OF
L
OWELL
*

Daughter of the Loom • A Fragile Design • These Tangled Threads

L
IGHTS OF
L
OWELL
*

A Tapestry of Hope • A Love Woven True • The Pattern of Her
Heart

D
ESERT
R
OSES

Shadows of the Canyon • Across the Years • Beneath a Harvest Sky

H
EIRS OF
M
ONTANA

Land of My Heart • The Coming Storm
To Dream Anew • The Hope Within

L
ADIES OF
L
IBERTY

A Lady of Secret Devotion
A Lady of High Regard • A Lady of Hidden Intent

R
IBBONS OF
S
TEEL
**

Distant Dreams • A Hope Beyond • A Promise for Tomorrow

R
IBBONS
W
EST
**

Westward the Dream • Separate Roads

W
ESTWARD
C
HRONICLES

A Shelter of Hope • Hidden in a Whisper • A Veiled Reflection

Y
UKON
Q
UEST

Treasures of the North • Ashes and Ice • Rivers of Gold

* with Judith Miller     ** with Judith Pella