Not My Will and The Light in My Window (21 page)

Back in her own room, Eleanor lay with the letter in her hand. It was addressed in Chad’s writing to his mother and was postmarked 11:30 on that last night he was alive. He must have mailed it just before he was struck.

Eleanor read it through twice, then lay with the letter under her cheek while she rested. As she drifted off to sleep, she whispered, “God does answer prayer, doesn’t He, Chad?”

T
he sound of a door slamming and a rush of feet along the hall awakened Eleanor from her doze. She heard Mary Lou call, “Mom, oh, Mom, where are you?” Then she heard Mrs. Stewart’s cautiously whispered answer, “Sh! Darling, Eleanor is asleep. Not quite so wild!”

Feeling rested after her nap and eager to see what the girls had bought, Eleanor threw off the blanket and slipped into her pumps. Voices came from the kitchen, and as she turned down the hall in that direction she was gratified to notice that she felt stronger and surer of step than when she had arisen that morning. She was really getting well!

As she paused in the kitchen door, Mary Lou looked up from the armful of bundles she was putting on the table, and cried, “Oh, it’s Len! And she’s up! Oh, you’re so pretty! Can I kiss you?” It was fortunate that the doorframe was there, or both of them would have gone
down in the wild rush Mary Lou made. Mother Stewart caught her and pulled her back.

“Careful, little Indian!” she cautioned. “Eleanor is a bit unsteady yet. Now, if you want to kiss her, do it quietly.”

Eleanor opened her arms, and the little girl snuggled close and lifted her face. “Oh, I love you so much. It’s like a Christmas present to have you here.”

Eleanor returned the caress and whispered softly, “You’re a dear little sister.”

Then the parcels were opened. Connie’s hat and the new purses, gloves, and shoes had to be admired, and the zipper case presented to Mother.

“Why, bless your heart,” she exclaimed. “I’ve wanted one of these for years, but I thought only bankers and stockbrokers could afford them. What made you do this for me, Len?”

“Oh, it’s such a little compared with what you have done for me,” she replied. “I wanted to do something for the folks who have been so good to me these long weeks. I lost a birthday while I was sick, so I wanted to celebrate today, and that’s the only way I knew.”

“Did you really lose a birthday?” asked Mary Lou anxiously. That was a major catastrophe!

“I think I must have.” Eleanor smiled. “I was twenty-four when I came, and the calendar says I’m twenty-five now. I don’t remember seeing a birthday lying around, so I must have lost it.”

Chuckling, Mary Lou began to jump about and up and down as if animated by a hidden spring, as once more she looked over her treasures. Finally Mother Stewart bade her go with Connie to put away their purchases and change their dresses. She kept running back,
however, to recount some exploit of the day, and at last Mrs. Stewart sighed. “We may as well listen to it and get it over with. Mary Lou, you take Eleanor into the living room and tell her about your trip while Connie and I help Mrs. Hunt with supper.”

So off they went to the davenport, where Mary Lou settled Eleanor on the cushions, then sat cross-legged on the floor beside her and chattered away like a little magpie. She described the stores, the beautiful windows, a flat tire that two men had to fix, a little room called a “nelevator” that went up and down, the ten-cent store where she wanted so badly to stay, the banana split at the ice cream parlor, and a dozen other things. In the midst of the recital she made several trips to the kitchen, from each of which she returned with smiles and shining eyes.

“Do you ever sit still?” asked Eleanor, watching the restless little feet that were now pushing the big rocker back and forth vigorously.

“Not ’less I have to. I do sit still at school ’cause I should. It would shame Mom very badly if I was naughty at school. Do you like school, Len?”

“Yes, I do. I have always thought it was fun to learn things.”

“Well, I don’t. But I’m going to keep on and study hard and some day be a doctor.”

“A doctor!” exclaimed Eleanor in surprise.

“Yes.” Mary Lou nodded emphatically. “I truly am. There’s always been a Dr. Stewart, and Bob and Connie don’t want to be doctors. So it has to be me. There are lady doctors, aren’t there?”

“Oh yes,” Eleanor assured her. “I once planned to be one myself.”

“Oh, Len!” Mary Lou’s face lighted up. “I have the nicest idea. You go on and be one, and you and I can have a doctor’s office together.”

“I don’t know,” replied Eleanor musingly. “Perhaps I will someday. When I get better we’ll see.”

“I’d like that almost as well as doctoring with Chad,” continued Mary Lou. “Were you and Chad going to be doctors together, Len?”

“Yes, we were, dear—but God had something better for Chad,” Eleanor replied softly.

“If that was God’s way, then it’s better for you too. That’s what Mom told me when he went away, and it made me feel not so bad anymore.”

It surprised Eleanor that she could talk of Chad so easily now. She had thought she never could speak his name again, but here she was almost enjoying the conversation about him. He seemed so near now.

“Supper!” called Connie from the dining room.

“Oh, let me lead you out,” begged Mary Lou of Eleanor. So she gave the little girl her hand, and Mary Lou proudly led the way to the dining room and placed Eleanor in a seat next to herself.

Bob sat at the head of the table and reverently asked God’s blessing on the food and those who partook of it. Then Mary Lou undertook the duty of seeing that Eleanor was supplied with bread and vegetables, salad and milk.

“Gracious, little sister!” exclaimed Eleanor. “You must want to fatten me up for the market.”

“I want you to get well,” whispered Mary Lou in a low voice, “so we can begin doctoring.”

When the table had been cleared in readiness for the
dessert, Mary Lou left the room and shortly reappeared, carrying a huge apple pie decorated with lighted candles. Before Eleanor had done more than open her mouth in surprise, Connie started to sing, and they all joined in.

“We didn’t have a cake,” explained Mary Lou, “but pie tastes better anyway. And here’s a birthday present for you. We didn’t know you had had a birthday, or we would have brought you something really nice.”

She laid a white box on Eleanor’s plate. When the string was untied, it proved to be an assortment of salted nuts, and Eleanor exclaimed, “How did anyone guess that I’m very fond of these?”

Mary Lou laughed delightedly. “It wasn’t a guess. I knew. That summer Chad was home, he and I went to Benton one day, and he bought nuts to send to his best girl, who was a regular squirrel over them, he said. I
know
that was you.”

Mrs. Stewart glanced anxiously at Eleanor as Mary Lou burst forth in this way. How would she take this casual mention of Chad? Then as Eleanor laughed gaily and answered, “That was a joke with us, and I love you for remembering it,” the mother drew a breath of thankful relief. She knew that the healing for which she had prayed was a blessed fact.

After the dishes were washed, the family gathered in
the living room, and Connie brought out a new book of choruses. Tired but happy, Eleanor sat and listened as the voices blended in one song of praise after another. It was good to be part of this loving family. She was beginning to realize how much she had missed by holding aloof from them. She had staggered and fallen carrying her heavy burden alone, when all the time these stronger ones could have upheld and strengthened her.

“Now let us sing ‘Blest Be the Tie that Binds,’” said Mother Stewart, “and then at least two of my chicks must be in bed,” and she smiled at Eleanor and Mary Lou. Connie struck a few chords, and the grand old words rang out.

After the hymn, Bob, looking a little awkward, approached Eleanor and laid a flat package in her lap, saying as he did so, “I didn’t know that this was to be a birthday celebration tonight, but here is something Marilyn and I have been expecting for a week. It came today and carries our best wishes.”

Wonderingly Eleanor tore the package open, then drew in a breath of astonishment. “Bob! Where did you get it? Oh, how can I thank you? It’s—oh, it’s so good! Mother—girls—look!”

They all gathered around. There in Eleanor’s lap lay a framed picture of herself and Chad.

Hand in hand, they were coming over the brow of a hill, heads back, hair blowing in the breeze, while joy and hope and youth in love glowed from their faces.

“Oh—it’s so wonderful to see his face again,” Eleanor murmured, tears gathering in her eyes. “No, please let me cry. I’m not sad, I’m just happy. I remember when we took that. Chad was trying out a new time
control on my camera. It was taken on that last day at the lake, just before we started home. Bob,
how
and
where
did you get it?”

“The undeveloped film was in Chad’s suit that was sent home afterward,” replied Bob, looking pleased that his surprise had been such a success. “I just recently found it again and decided to have it developed, although I feared it was too old to be good. But the pictures were fine. Isn’t that great of the dear old chap?” he concluded with a husky voice, trying to be casual.

Mother Stewart and each of the girls had to take a turn at studying the picture. Seeing the longing in their eyes, Bob promised that he would have a print made for each of them to keep. This enlargement, slightly tinted, placed in a simple silver frame, was for Eleanor alone, to remind her of those last beautiful days together.

“Bob,” said Eleanor, when the picture was returned to her, “I can’t tell you how much I thank you. If you only knew how I’ve tried to remember Chad’s face. This brings it back, just the way I want to remember him. Oh, I am so grateful to the Lord for bringing me here!” she concluded, looking from one dear face to the other. “You’re the nicest folks I know!”

A
pril days sped past, and May followed in swift succession. Eleanor was so well and energetic by the time June arrived that it was hard to realize she had ever been ill. Mother Stewart’s nursing had been triumphantly successful.

As soon as she felt able, Eleanor had written Mr. Hastings, informing him of her illness and her present circumstances. The lawyer’s reply arrived by return mail, and together with sincere wishes for her improved health he stated his desire to confer with her about her inheritance.

Oh, dear!
thought Eleanor impatiently.
That money again!

But it seemed that this was the end of it all. Mr. Hastings had written the trustees of the laboratories, informing them of Eleanor’s desire to give them the full estate. Knowing the circumstances of the will, they were
loath to accept the full sum and suggested an early conference in which some compromise solution could be reached.

“Mother, I wish you’d read this letter and tell me what you think,” she said, entering the kitchen where Mother Stewart was cutting out cookies. That busy lady wiped the flour from her hands and took the letter, reading rapidly to herself while Eleanor sat on a stool and munched a cookie with a preoccupied air.