Whispers from Yesterday (26 page)

He hadn’t much to offer Karen. He owned his horse and tack and an old truck. He had a few changes of clothes and three Bibles and numerous other books he’d collected over the years. Little else belonged to him. He wasn’t complaining. He’d lost his desire to acquire
things
long ago. Still, he could understand that a woman might want something more secure when she chose a husband.

And yet he continued to think about her, to envision a future with her, to hope.

A familiar Bible verse came to him:
Hope that is seen is not hope
;
for who hopes for what he already sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, with perseverance we wait eagerly for it.

“Are You trying to tell me something, Lord? That it’s okay to hope for this?”

His horse nickered.

Dusty leaned his forehead against the animal’s neck. “O God, I do hope for it. I can’t stop hoping. But more than anything, I want what You want for me, and I don’t know what that is. Not in this case.”

“Dusty?”

At Karen’s voice, his breath caught in his chest. He turned toward the barn doorway. “You’re up early.” He hoped he sounded normal.

“I wondered if I could join you. I could help you round up those cows for Mr. Basterra. Patty says she’ll take care of Grandmother while we’re gone.” She hesitated a moment before adding, “Unless you’d rather be alone? “

“No.” He grinned, feeling his pulse quicken. “I’d like it if you’d come with me.”

“Great.” She returned his smile. “I’ll saddle the paint.”

Sunlight played across the steep walls of the canyon and glittered on the surface of the water. The golden glow gave a false promise of warmth.

Karen shrugged deeper into her coat and tried not to shiver. “Want to head back?” Dusty asked, breaking the silence that had accompanied them on the ride down to the river. She glanced his way. “No. I’m okay.” His gaze didn’t waver from hers.

For some reason, she thought of Esther and Mikkel. Sophia’s sister had left everything she’d known and followed her husband across an ocean, to a country where she didn’t even speak the language, all because she’d loved him.

Would I have that kind of courage? Or that kind of faith in anything or anyone?

“A penny for your thoughts.”

She gave her head a small shake. “I was thinking of Great-Aunt Esther. Do you know about her?” “Some.”

“Grandmother gave me her diaries. I didn’t think I’d be interested, but I’ve been reading them over the summer. A little here. A little there. Many of the entries are simple recountings of daily activities, but some …” She allowed her words to drift into silence, not knowing how to express what she was feeling. Finally, she said, “She was married to a minister.”

“Yes. I knew that.”

Karen frowned. “Her first baby died. A little girl she’d named for Grandmother. She was only a month old. And later Esther miscarried another baby. Grandmother, her own sister, wouldn’t answer her letters. She was a foreigner in the middle of an occupied country in World War II.” She looked away from him, staring toward the rim of the canyon walls. “And yet she never lost faith in the goodness of God.”

“God
is
good,” he replied softly before nudging his horse into the lead as the trail narrowed, forcing them to ride single file.

Would I have enough courage to follow him anywhere?
she wondered as she stared at his back.
If he asked me to, would I go to another country, give up everything comfortable and familiar because I loved him?

Her parents had done little together, beyond what was expected
of them in their social circles. What they had done as a couple had been for display, not out of devotion. Karen knew with certainty that her mother would never have considered doing what Esther Christiansen had done. Not for an instant.

Did Mother and Dad love each other in the beginning? At least a little?

She would never know.

Did either of them ever love me?

That question hurt more, and it couldn’t be answered either. She looked up at the canopy of blue beyond the canyon walls.
Will I ever understand? Will I ever believe?

Of all the seasons, Sophia enjoyed autumn the most. There was something about the crispness in the air, about the changing of colors that had a calming effect. Perhaps it was an instinctive settling in as nature prepared for the coming winter.

Dusty had forbidden her to walk out to the garden in the mornings as had been her habit for many years. Instead, she sat in a rocking chair on the front porch, bundled in some old, familiar quilts. Her Bible lay open on her lap, but she wasn’t reading it now. Her eyes were closed, and she slept, dreaming …

Esther looked stunning in her wedding gown. It was a simple white dress, without costly pearls and beads, as befit the bride of a poor but honorable country preacher. Yet, there was a radiance about the bride that made the gown seem far more than it was.

“Please come,” she said, turning from the mirror.

“I can’t,” Sophia answered. “You know why.”

“I love you. You’re my only sister.”

“I’ve hated you. I’ve resented you. Because of Mikkel. I coveted Mikkel. I wanted him for myself.”

“Yes.”

“How could you forgive me?” “It was easy, Sophia.”

In the blink of an eye, the wedding dress was gone. Esther looked older, more tired, and yet the radiance remained. “Sophia, all will be well.” “How can you be so sure?” “Because I’ve seen it.”

“I failed Maggie. I failed you and Mikkel. You sent her to me, and I failed you both. I loved her, you know. Like she was my own blood.”

“I know. And deep down, Margaret Rose knew it too. But don’t look back, dearest sister. Look up!”

“I’ve missed you all these years, Esther. All these years.”

Esther’s smile was sad as she stepped backward, fading from view. “Don’t let Karen go,” she called softly. “Promise you won’t let her go.”

“I won’t. I won’t let her go. I promise.”

The cool morning gave way to warmth as the sun approached its zenith. Dusty and Karen located the dozen stray cattle and drove them to the Basterra farm without mishap or problems.

As soon as they herded the cows into a pen near the barn, Dusty asked Yuli Basterra if he could use the telephone.

“Sure. You know where it is.”

“Be right back,” Dusty told Karen before walking to the house.

The kitchen was filled with delicious cooking aromas, and his stomach growled in response. He ignored it as he lifted the receiver and dialed the number of the ranch. It was answered on the third ring.

“Hi, Patty. I thought I’d better check in. How’s Miss Sophie doing?”

“She’s okay. She’s resting out on the front porch.” “I told her to stay in bed.”

With the mouthpiece covered, muffling her voice, Dusty could hear Patty repeating what he’d said to Sophia. Then she paused, giggled, and said, “Miss Sophie wants me to say you told her she couldn’t go out to the garden, and she didn’t.” Another pause, then, “She says to quit clucking over her like an old wet hen and enjoy the beautiful day with your beautiful companion.”

“Not bad advice.” He grinned. “Tell her I’m going to follow it.”

He hung up the phone, then walked outside. Karen was waiting for him beside the holding pen, talking with Yuli and Celia Basterra.

“Would you like to stay for lunch?” Celia asked when she saw Dusty.

“Thanks for the invitation, but we’d better get back to the Golden T.”

“Cold fried chicken and apple-walnut salad,” she said. “And freshly baked oatmeal-raisin cookies for dessert.”

“So that’s what smelled so good in there.” Dusty glanced toward Karen. If she was as hungry as he was …

“Thirty minutes is all it will take to eat.” Yuli slapped Dusty on the back. “Not worth riding home hungry to save thirty minutes. Celia’s fried chicken is the best, and her cookies have won awards at the fair.”

Smiling her reply, Karen nodded.

“Okay.” Dusty laughed. “Okay. Don’t torture us anymore.

We’ll stay.”

A dust cloud rose above the road from the highway, alerting Sophia that she was about to have company. A number of people from
church had come calling this past week, most of them bringing food. She wondered what delectable dish they would be sampling for supper tonight.

But it was a stranger who disembarked from the long, black luxury car after it came to a halt in front of the house.

Don’t let Karen go,
a small voice repeated in her heart.

A shiver ran through Sophia as the man walked toward the porch.

Thursday, May 8, 1941

Dear Diary,

It is true. Mikkel is working with the resistance. He does not know I have discovered the truth, and I am torn about what to do. I fear for him.

If the Germans were to discover it, what might they do to him?

Esther

Wednesday, June 18, 1941

Dear Diary,

I am pregnant. I can no longer doubt it. Tomorrow I will tell Mikkel. I am happy, and yet, I am afraid. Life here is tenuous. Is it right to bring a child into a world overrun with evil? Nutritious food is hard to come by. Everything is rationed due to the war.

And Mikkel takes so many risks. I know, even though he never tells me what he does. But I can see the truth in his eyes. He seldom sleeps.

When we were married four years ago this month, I thought we would live a quiet life, serving the people of this church in Copenhagen for a while, and then serving another in some small American town. I imagined us with a couple of children and a serene home life. I never suspected we would still be in Denmark four years later or that the world would be at war.

We do not know the future, do we, God? Only You know. But You are here with me. It is not Your desire for me to fear, for Your word says You have not given me a spirit of fear. Help me lean upon Your strength, no matter what the future holds. In Jesus’ name. Amen.