The Calling of Emily Evans (3 page)
“What’d you get?” inquired Pearl candidly.
“Eighty-seven,” answered Emily.
“Eighty-seven percent?”
Emily nodded.
“That’s good,” Pearl replied admiringly.“I got sixty-eight and I thought I did well. Even Fred got only eighty-two. That was a hard test.”
For a moment Emily was swept with a feeling of pride.
I even beat Fred Russell!
she exulted. Then her instant glory faded away. Fred had not been able to study for the test. He had been called home because his mother was ill, and he had only arrived back on campus the night before the exam. Her pride quickly changed to sympathy for Fred.
“He didn’t get to study—remember?” Emily reminded Pearl.
“I know,” agreed Pearl.“Still, you did beat him—and rather handily, too.”
“Well, it hardly—”
But already Pearl was changing the subject.“What are you wearing to the Missions dinner on Friday?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t even given it a thought.”
“Are you being escorted?”
Emily shook her head. She still wasn’t sure if she wanted to be escorted. The only fellow on campus that she really liked had invited Olive. Olive with her blond spun-gold hair. Emily had long since given up her secret dream that Ross Norris would ever notice her.
“No-o,” she answered hesitantly.
Pearl sighed.“Max asked me, but I said no. So I guess I’m stuck with going alone.” She sighed again.“I was really hoping Carl would ask me first. Now I won’t be able to accept when he does ask.”
Emily wondered why Pearl thought Carl would be asking her, but she didn’t voice the question. Instead, she responded good-naturedly,“You can sit with me if you want some company.”
Pearl nodded.“Thanks,” she said.“I might.”
Emily left to return to her own room. She had to get busy with her assignment. It would soon be time for the dinner bell.
Olive was still there. Ruth had completed the task of trimming her hair, but Olive had not bothered to re-pin it. Instead, she sat on the edge of the bed, running long slender fingers through the silken strands.
“—and Rob said that I shouldn’t worry my pretty head about it,” she commented coyly.
“Rob?” questioned Ruth without too much interest.
“Rob. Robert Lee. I call him Rob,” answered Olive with a toss of the golden hair.
“You are supposed to call him ‘Mr. Lee,’ I believe,” commented Ruth dryly.
Olive chuckled. It was school rules that the young men and women address one another with proper respect—not on a first-name basis.
“Oh, I do—whenever we’re within earshot of one of the faculty,” she assured Ruth, then cast a look toward Emily.“Are you going to study?” she asked incredulously as Emily cleared a spot on the crowded desk and arranged her books.
“I must,” Emily answered.“I have an assignment to get done for tomorrow.”
Olive sighed. Due assignments were such a bore.
“I need to get busy, too,” Ruth informed Olive in a courteous but firm dismissal. Reluctantly the girl eased herself from the bed, still running her fingers through her hair, then tossed it back over her shoulders and picked up her hairpins and combs.
“Okay, Bookworms,” she chided pertly.“Stick your noses back in your books.” She left the room humming a popular song often played on the radio.
Emily settled herself at the small desk.“Do you need some room?” she asked Ruth, trying to figure out what she could move to give Ruth space on the one small surface.
“No, I think I’ll go to the library. I need some reference books for my report.”
Then Ruth noticed Emily’s Bible History paper.
“How did you do?” she asked with interest.
Emily could not keep her eyes from lighting up.“Better than I thought I would,” she enthused.“I got eighty-seven.”
“Good,” Ruth rejoiced with Emily.“From what I’ve heard, that’s one of the higher marks of the class.”
“Is it?” Emily could hardly believe that she was topping her classmates. She who always had to work so hard for her grades.
“Even Fred—” began Ruth.
“I know. Pearl told me. But Fred wasn’t here to study,” Emily said once more.
Ruth just nodded her head and gathered up her books with a “See you later.”
From down the hall came Olive’s giggle followed by a little shriek from Pearl. Olive had not returned to her room to prepare for the next day’s classes. She and Pearl were likely exchanging stories about the cute things that the young men on campus had said to them recently.
Emily bent over her book and set her mind to studying—but the words seemed to blur before her eyes. Through her mind ran the catchy little tune Olive had been humming. No matter how hard she tried, the tune insisted on going round and round in her head.
Oh, bother!
fumed Emily.
I might as well have gone up town with Mary. I can never study with all the commotion.
She concluded that she would never get in step with dorm living. Waiting for late-night quiet seemed to be her only recourse.
But Emily did eventually get into her report. She even became so engrossed that she missed the warning dinner bell and might have missed dinner had not Ruth arrived back from the library to inform her that they must rush or they would be late. Emily pushed back her books and rose to follow Ruth. In her hurry she bumped some papers from the desk and stopped to retrieve them. Ruth’s Bible History test had big red markings giving her score. She had made ninety-two percent! Emily’s eyes widened.
“And without any effort,” she muttered to herself. Suddenly she felt that life was not fair.
Then she hastened from the room and ran the few steps down the hall to catch up with the other girls. Nobody had ever said that life was fair, she told herself, and besides, if anyone deserved it, Ruth did. Emily pushed her agitated feelings from her with determination. She refused to be jealous over her roommate’s ability. God expected Emily Evans to do only what she was capable of doing. No more—and no less.
Emily found that it was all she could do to accomplish her assignments in time for the next day’s classes. On more than one occasion she broke the lights-out rule, though she didn’t intend to do so. And she was occasionally still late for breakfast—in spite of Ruth’s insistence that she must get up. But Emily tried. She honestly tried to keep up with the demands of the school. It seemed to her that she was always rushing, always pressing, always scurrying to keep up with the rest. Yet in all of the hurry, she was conscious of a strange serenity that she was in the right place, doing the right thing. Her knowledge of the Bible continued to grow daily.
To Emily the most special time of the day was the chapel hour. She loved to hear the hymns as the students joined in singing, the men on one side and the women on the other. She thrilled with the testimonies of fellow students. She drank in the preaching hungrily. There was
so much
she longed to know. She felt unworthy to be at such a place of learning—yet deeply thankful that God had allowed her to come.
Not all of Emily’s activities were serious and studious. She enjoyed the parties held in the dining hall. Skating was allowed at the local pond. Interaction was encouraged, though formal dating was limited. But during the school year the young men and women became acquainted in a proper and chaperoned environment. Emily soon learned to identify each of her classmates, not by name or appearance, but by personality traits.
As far as Emily was concerned, Ruth was the perfect example of what a young Christian woman should be. Though rather plain in appearance, perhaps, she was alert, capable, intelligent and devout. Her no-nonsense approach to life fit well with her deep desire to serve the Lord. Emily thanked God many times for giving her a roommate like Ruth.
Olive, the one with the pretty hair, was flighty, flirty, and seemingly out-of-place at a Bible school.
But perhaps God has His own reasons for bringing her here,
Emily concluded.
Mary, quiet and studious, asked little of others and gave much in return. Emily found Mary easy to love. She was of the stuff that close friends were made from.
Though not as enamored with the opposite sex as Olive was, Pearl was certainly more attractive, and she didn’t pretend not to know that young men occupied the same campus. She was quick to laugh and witty in her responses. In a way, Emily could have easily envied Pearl.
One by one Emily mentally reviewed her dorm sisters. They came from many backgrounds, looked quite different, had varying personalities, but they shared many things—besides the large common bathroom with its curtained showers and stalls. They shared dreams and hopes and aspirations. They shared a desire to study the Word and to share that Word in some way with others. At least,
most
of them were on campus to study and grow.
Emily was also aware of the young men on campus, though not nearly as much so as Olive and Pearl. Carl Tyndale, blond like his sister, was the campus tease, the one who was usually thinking of some silly prank to pull on an unsuspecting fellow student. Occasionally there were whispers of Carl being sent home if he didn’t conform to the school standards of conduct, but the days passed by and Carl remained. Emily thought the dean was patience personified when it came to his dealings with Carl.
To Emily, Fred Russell was as much the example for the men as Ruth was for the young women. A spiritual leader, he was studious, sensitive, committed and deeply respected. The faculty counted on Fred to set the tone of the school. One could not dislike Fred. It would have seemed near to blasphemy.
Robert Lee, known to Olive as “Rob,” was the campus flirt, or so Emily thought. He may have told Olive not to worry her pretty little head, but he told every girl on campus some such silly rubbish. Emily paid little attention to the cute sayings of Mr. Lee.
Morris Soderquist, his heavy glasses framing deep blue eyes, was a slight, wiry young man with a deep sense of commitment to his goal. He intended to go overseas to the mission field, and he pored over his Bible with intensity as he prepared himself for service. Conversations with Morris were few and far between, for he was always in the library or in his own room studying.
Lacey Beckett, a big farm boy, was tall and heavyset. His voice matched his appearance and his laugh rumbled through a room. Emily felt that fate—or whatever or whoever was responsible for naming Lacey—had somehow played a cruel trick. The name simply did not fit the man. Lacey was anything but fragile or feminine. Emily had to keep herself from giggling every time she heard or read his name. She was glad she had to call him “Mr. Beckett”—she was sure she could not hide her amusement if she were to call him “Lacey.”
Thirteen young men in all filled the men’s residence. Each one added a personal dimension to the student body and, together with the fifteen young ladies, formed a unit of learning and growing, each contributing in some sense to the other.
Emily went home for Christmas to share some special times with her father and two sisters. Emily had been twelve when her mother was taken from them. Being the middle girl in the family, Emily had nearly been overlooked in the changing household. She had not had to take on the home duties that fell on Ina, nor was she petted and pitied like younger Annabelle. Only her father, who had always seen Emily as the most like her mother, had carried a special spot for her in his heart. Her rather frail body was his constant concern. Slight of stature and subject to flus and colds, Emily often carried out her responsibilities by sheer determination.
But Christmas had been a good time for all. They went to Grandma Evan’s on Christmas Eve and to Grandma Clark’s for Christmas Day. Ina was spared the burden of preparing a Christmas dinner, and Annabelle, now thirteen, was fussed over sufficiently to carry her through the months ahead.
Though Emily enjoyed Christmas, she secretly longed to get back to school. But she tried not to let her restlessness show, for she could feel her father’s thoughtful gaze upon her. There was little chance for the two of them to talk privately, so Emily answered all the general questions about the school, her work, and her health. She thought she had given a satisfactory report until one night when she sat reading her Bible after Ina and Annabelle had retired.
A rustling of paper preceded her father’s question.“How’s school?”
“Fine,” Emily answered simply, her eyes not leaving the page.
There was a moment of silence.
“How’s school?” her father asked again.
This time Emily lifted her eyes and looked directly into his warm brown ones, now crinkled with interest and concern.
“Fine,” she answered evenly.“I like it.”
He nodded and his work-worn hands laid the newspaper in his lap.“You’ve been keeping well?”
Emily was about to nod in agreement when she remembered a bout with the flu that had kept her in bed for three days, and the last cold that bothered her for a week.
“Mostly,” she said honestly.
“Are you takin’ your cod-liver oil?”
The very mention of it caused Emily’s pert little nose to wrinkle up, but she nodded vigorously.
“Good! You look a little peaked.”
“Peaked” was one of her father’s favorite words. He referred to any one of his children as being “a little peaked” whenever illness struck.
“I’m fine,” Emily insisted.
“Got a good roommate?” was the next question.
“Ruth. She’s great. I really like her. I just wish I could be more like her,” Emily said sincerely.
“Nothin’ wrong with you,” her father was quick to assure her, and Emily flushed with the simplicity of his appraisal.
“Any special fellas?” asked Mr. Evans, and Emily’s head lifted in time to catch the twinkle in his eyes.
She smiled slowly, then shook her head. She knew that Ross really didn’t count. He still seemed to be carrying a torch for Olive, even though Olive responded positively and then ignored him, by turn.
She shook her head.“No one special to me—in that way,” she admitted.
“Will Pearson still asks about you,” Mr. Evans said, causing Emily to blush. Will Pearson had been asking about Emily for too many years. He was much older than she—nine years, in fact, and he had been living with false hope for a long time. Emily had no interest in Will Pearson, even if he did own his own farm.