The Holy Warrior (19 page)

“Not well.” Missy rubbed her forehead wearily. “She’s not able to get out of bed at all now—and with Caroline so busy helping Father with the church, I have to take care of her.”

“I’ll help you,” Martha offered instantly. “Why don’t I come over tomorrow?”

“It’s good of you, Martha, but Mother’s gotten a little... hard to please. Maybe when she’s better.”

She returned and took care of her mother’s needs, then cooked supper for herself and Asa. He was subdued, fearful of what his mother’s sickness might mean, and for once he went to bed early without argument.

Missy was washing the dishes when she heard a horse leave the road and come to the house. Drying her hands, she went to the door and opened it to find Chris there. “Why, I didn’t know you were back,” she uttered in surprise. “Come in—supper’s still warm.”

“Maybe just a cup of coffee, Missy,” he replied. He followed her to the kitchen, sat down wearily in a chair and sipped the hot black coffee. “How’s your mother?”

“She was better last week, but yesterday she had a bad spell. She can’t keep anything down—and the cough is worse.”

He put the coffee cup down, stared at it, then lifted his eyes. “Missy, she’s very sick.”

“I know. She’s not going to live.” She sat down and rested her chin on her hand, brushing back a lock of hair from her forehead with her other hand. “She slips away a little every day.”

Chris nodded sadly, thinking again—as he often did—of
how bright Missy’d been as a child. “Do you remember when you took care of me—when Knox brought me to this house just about dead?”

Missy’s features softened with a smile. “I remember—you were my ‘patient.’ I remember holding the cup so you could drink the soup, and even feeding it to you, a spoonful at a time. When your fever went up, I’d put cool, wet towels on your forehead. And when you got better, I’d take you for short walks to the creek.” Her eyes brightened. “I still have the bird egg collection you gave me.”

“Do you now? I’d like to go again. Maybe we could get that woodpecker egg I promised you. I never did get that one, did I, Missy?”

She stirred and there was a sadness in her voice. “I don’t know, Chris. That was a long time ago.” Their eyes met and held across the table.

“I hate to bother you with this, Missy, but I got bad news today—”

“Remember what you told me, Christmas,” Missy interrupted. “ ‘It’s no bother to listen to the people you love.’ Especially when they have a problem. What’s wrong?”

He smiled at her sadly, then pulled a letter from his coat pocket. “I got a letter from my father.” He hesitated. “My grandfather died two weeks ago.”

“Oh, Chris!” She quickly put a hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry—I know how you loved him.”

“Well, he was eighty-two, and he went easy. Father put it all down in the letter.”

“Could I hear it, Chris?”

“Why—of course, Missy.” He unfolded the sheet of paper and scanned the letter for the place he wanted as she watched his face in the lamplight. It pained Missy to see him like this; obviously the news had cut him deeply. Though Adam was her great-uncle, she herself did not know him that well. Finding his place, Chris began to read aloud:

Chris stopped reading and refolded the letter, replacing it with hands that were not quite steady. Putting his hands on
the table, Chris rested his forehead on them, saying, “I’ve given Father a lot of grief—and all the rest of them as well!”

Missy rose and went to him, putting her arms about him and pulling his head to her bosom as she might have done with Asa or with a hurt child. His shoulders shook with grief, and she stroked his hair, making comforting sounds. When he grew still, she released him and lifted his chin, his cheeks still wet with tears. “Adam Winslow was a very wise man, Christmas,” Missy murmured quietly. “And he was very proud of you.”

Laughing shakily, Chris did not try to refute that. “You’re a strong woman, Missy.” He studied the tabletop for a moment before looking up, where she was again seated across from him. “I’m going to Virginia,” he announced. “It’s too late to see grandfather—and I couldn’t go back when Charles died last year—but I need to spend some time with my family. When I come back, I’m going to be pastor of the Pineville church.”

“You’re not going to ride the circuit?” she asked in surprise.

“No. The bishop asked me to take the church. He says I may go on the circuit later, but he thinks I need experience as a pastor first.”

“It’ll be different,” she responded. “But you’ll be close, so we can see more of you.”

He rose and paced the floor, deep in thought. Then as though a decision had been made, he stopped by her chair and put his hands on her shoulders. Missy looked up at him, not knowing why he did that until he asked her, “Would you go with me, Missy—to Virginia?”

“To Virginia?” Her head swam in a confused muddle. “Why do you want me to go to your home?”

His grip on her shoulders tightened. “The bishop thinks a pastor should be a married man.”

The room seemed to shift, and Missy reached up and grabbed onto Chris’s arms to steady herself. Once in her life she had fainted, when one of her friends had cut herself
badly—and she had that same lightheaded feeling as she looked at him. Her thoughts raced wildly, and she could only stare at him, sure that she must have misunderstood what he said.

“Missy,” he urged quietly, “I know it’s crazy, and I don’t have any right to ask a young woman to share the life that’s in front of me. Will you let me tell you what’s happened?”

“Chris—I don’t know...!”

He put his finger on her lips, saying soberly, “I had a wife once—and I never thought I could love another woman. And when I left to go to Yale, in my mind you were just a little girl. Even when I came back, that was what I thought. But something happened the evening we took a ride to the creek.” He shook his head. “When I put my arms around you that night and held you close, I did it because I was sorry to see you so unhappy, and wanted to comfort my little girl. But at that point I realized something: you were not a little girl anymore! You remember how I told you that to me you were everything a girl ought to be, Missy? I’d like to change that now—to me you’re everything a woman should be.”

She looked up at him with trembling lips and whispered, “I’ve always loved you, Chris!”

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her gently, and they stood close together for a long time, lost in the wonder of it all. Finally she drew back. “But I—I can’t marry you. Not with Mother so sick.”

“I know. I can wait, if you’ll have me.”

She hesitated. “Are you sure you want me?”

“Yes. I’ve fasted and prayed about it for months!”

She smiled and asked mischievously, “When did all this fasting and prayer take place—while you were running around with Ellen Jennings?”

“I’m a handy man, Missy,” he protested innocently. “I can do lots of things at the same time.”

“You just want to marry me because the bishop said you had to,” Missy teased.

“That’s better than the reason you’re marrying me!”

She looked puzzled and he laughed. “You just love me because I’m tall!”

They stood there for a long time, talking lightly, happily. Missy finally said, “They’ll think we’re both crazy, Chris.”

He grinned and bent down and kissed her again. “Maybe we are. I’ll have a word with your father as soon as he gets back. He’ll probably run me off with his shotgun.”

“No. He thinks there’s nobody like you.” She touched his cheek and whispered, “That’s what I’ve always thought, too—but I never believed it would turn out like this!”

He stroked her hair, loving each moment. After a while, he murmured softly, “I don’t want to leave, but I must. I’ll see you tomorrow, Missy.”

Three days later her father came home, and when Chris walked in that evening after supper, Missy’s heart skipped a beat. Her mother was asleep and Asa was off running a trout line, so only Caroline was there.

Chris drank coffee while Dan filled him in on the details of the meeting. He was nervous, and Missy found that she could barely sit still. Caroline got up and took some sewing out of her box. Returning to her seat, she sat quietly, listening but not entering into the conversation.

Dan wound up his story, saying, “Well, it was a grand time—a grand time! The Lord moved in power, and I found myself wishing you were there.” Then settling back comfortably, he asked, “What have you been doing, Christmas?”

There was an awkward silence, and Caroline looked up swiftly. Her hands grew still as she saw the tense look on Chris’s face, and Missy had an overwhelming urge to jump up and leave the room.

“Dan, I—I’ve got to tell you something, and it’s not easy,” he began. After a pause Chris went on hurriedly, “I’ve asked Missy to marry me, and she’s agreed if you approve.”

The silence was almost palpable, and Missy shut her eyes,
clenching her hands into fists. She had seen Caroline’s face go pale as paper, and could not look at her again.

Dan stared at Chris as if he could not believe what he had heard. “Why—it’s pretty sudden, isn’t it?”

“Not as sudden as it seems, Dan. I loved White Dove so much that when I lost her, it tore something out of me. I had no notion of marrying again. But something happened.” He smiled and looked across the table at Missy. “I found a woman who filled that empty spot. I love Missy, and I always will.”

“Missy?” Dan looked at his daughter, noting the pale face and the nervous hands. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes.” For the life of her, Missy could say no more, but she managed a tremulous smile at her father.

Dan looked down at his hands and thought hard, while the others waited. When he lifted his head there was a smile on his lips. “Every father wants his girl to get a good man—and as far as I’m concerned, you are the best man I could trust with Missy.”

“Oh!” Missy leaped up and flew to her father, nearly knocking the chair over as she flung her arms around him.

“Well—don’t strangle me, girl!” he protested helplessly. Pushing her off, he got to his feet and put his hand out. “She’ll be a helpmeet to you, Chris.”

Caroline put her sewing down, came over to Missy and put her arms around her, saying evenly, “You’ll be very happy, Missy.” She turned and looked at Chris, speaking in that same tone. “She’ll be a good wife to you, Chris.” Then she walked back to her chair and picked up her sewing. “I’ll see if Mother is all right.”

When she left, Chris remarked, “Caroline is a fine girl. I wonder why she’s never married?”

Missy’s eyes met her father’s, and she knew they were thinking the same thought:
He really doesn’t know that Caroline loves him.
But when she started to say something, Dan gave her a warning shake of his head and said, “Someday I
think she’ll find the right man. But when have you planned to marry?”

“When Anne gets better,” Chris replied. “Missy won’t leave until then.”

Dan shook his head and said with characteristic honesty, “We all know that Anne will never get off that bed unless God performs a miracle. You two have a work for God, and it would be a mistake to put your wedding off for any reason. And you mustn’t feel guilty, either of you. God puts men and women together, and that’s all there is to it.”

“I’d like Missy to spend some time with my folks,” Chris told Dan. “I’ve let them down so much that it would mean a lot to me to show them I’m doing this thing right.”

“I believe they would be very pleased—”

“But I can’t leave my mother to go for a visit,” Missy broke in.

“Then they’ll have to come here,” Chris decided. “In fact, I think Mother would jump at the chance—and that means Father will agree too.” He rose and walked to the door. Turning back, he said warmly, “You’ve always been like a family to me. Now I’ll be a real member.”

After Chris left Dan said to Missy, “It’s the most wonderful thing I could have wished for you—but...”

“I know. What about Caroline? I—I wanted to say no to Chris, but I love him so much!”

Dan put his arms around her, and his eyes filled with pity. “Every one of us has to carry a special load of grief. I’m carrying mine now with your mother. Someday, Missy, you’ll have yours—but now it’s time for Caroline to bear hers. Scripture tells us that ‘the heart knoweth its own bitterness, and a stranger does not meddle therewith.’ Love Caroline—more than you ever have, Missy. God will see her through. She loves Him, and He honors those that honor Him!”