Not My Will and The Light in My Window (36 page)

“How will you find him?” Eleanor questioned soberly.

“Dad Ferguson knows where he is, and I intend to find out. I will make no claim on him, for I have none. But before I go out into my uncertain future, I must know that he is all right.”

Eleanor’s breath came quickly, and she wondered what to say. Her prayers had been answered in fullest measure, and the thing for which she had longed had come to pass. She spoke quickly, with an excited catch in her voice. “Oh, Philip, I’m glad! I used to feel that you would love him if you would let yourself.”

“May God forgive me,” he replied, with his face buried in his hands. “I don’t quite know why I felt so toward him—probably grief over the loss of my own son, resentment at Lorraine’s love for him, jealousy—Oh, why name all those sins? I know now that I would give all I own for the assurance that he is well cared for.”

“It will be all right,” said Eleanor consolingly. “When the mother understands, she will be reasonable, I am sure. Now I want to show you my own little boy. He is playing with his dog on the other side of the church.”

Eleanor puckered her lips and gave the clear whistle that Chad had learned to obey. He did not appear, so she called, “Come here, Son, instantly.”

There was a sound of running steps. The boy and his puppy bounded around the corner of the church. At the sight, Philip burst into laughter, and Eleanor sat in speechless dismay, her face crimson. The little blue suit had been removed, and the child’s only clothing was a tiny pair of cotton shorts. From head to foot he was muddy and wet. Even the golden curls were plastered with mud. But on his face was a satisfied smile as he said to Eleanor, “I tooked off my suit, Mother, so I wouldn’t get it dirty.”

Turning to Philip, Eleanor said with an embarrassed laugh, “Will you excuse me while we go back to the brook for a few minutes and try to make a little white boy out of this apparition?”

Philip nodded his amused assent. “Would you like to borrow a big handkerchief to use for a towel?” he said.

“Please,” Eleanor replied. He gave her the handkerchief, and Eleanor and Chad started off, the muddy little hand tucked inside the firm, maternal clasp. As they walked away, Chad looked up anxiously into his mother’s face and said, “Was I naughty, Miss Honor?”

* * *

In another fifteen minutes Eleanor and Chad returned. The brook had proved an adequate bathtub, and the little boy fairly glistened with cleanliness, even to the damp, freshly combed hair. The little blue suit had indeed been well cared for and bore no traces of
mud. Back on a bush by the fence the little pair of shorts was drying in the sun.

“This is my Chad, Philip,” said Eleanor. “Shake hands with Dr. King, Son.”

Philip took the little brown hand in his and tried to say something, but his face twisted with emotion he could not hide, and he drew the boy close. Clasping both arms about him, his shoulders shook with sobs. Chad looked at Eleanor in bewilderment. He could not understand why this strange man was crying, or why his mother was shaking her head at him with her finger on her lips. And Mother was crying too! It was a perplexing world.

At last Eleanor drew Chad gently away from the broken Philip and said, “Dr. King had a little boy of his own once, Chad, and you are like him. Why don’t you and Sport go play by the steps while we talk? See if you can find some acorns for Patty.”

“Come on, Sport!” Chad called gaily and raced off.

Eleanor turned to Philip, who was wiping his eyes. “Forgive me,” she said, laying her hand on his arm. “I did not realize that you would recognize him—he has changed so much. I was going to tell you later.”

“I knew when he called you ‘Miss Honor.’”

“Bless his heart,” said Eleanor fondly. “He still does that when I am disciplining him. I want you to know, Phil, that I would have let you see him anytime if I had dreamed that you cared.”

“Oh, it is all my fault,” declared Philip. “But Eleanor, how in all the world did this come about? I never dreamed—I am absolutely amazed—it’s the most stupendous thing I ever heard of.” He was at a loss for words.

With her eyes fixed on the gravel path under her feet, Eleanor told again, with faltering voice, the story of her marriage, Chad’s death, the baby’s birth. She did not try to minimize her own attitude of willfulness, knowing that Philip would now be able to understand and sympathize with what she had once been. Then she told how God had led her to Bethel, and to Lorraine; of her confession to Lorraine, and its result.

As she talked, both her heart and her listener’s were lifted in gratitude to God for His direction and shaping of their lives. Philip’s arm lay along the back of the bench, and when the story came to a close he drew Eleanor’s head down to his shoulder and wiped away her tears.

“Eleanor,” he said tenderly.

“Yes?”

“God has led us marvelously along separate paths until now—but don’t you think that His will for us is that we go the rest of the way together?”

“Do you really want it that way, Phil?” she asked.

“Oh, Eleanor—I want it so much I can’t even express myself.” His arm tightened around her shoulder. “I hadn’t intended to tell you this just yet. But the obstacles are all cleared away. I know now that the Little Chap is all right. Although—” Philip smiled teasingly “—the condition I found him in left something to be desired in the way of cleanliness.”

“We have that remedied,” she retorted, laughing unsteadily.

“Eleanor, I love you,” said Philip. “Can’t we serve our Master together, if He is pleased to spare us?”

She drew a long breath, then lifted her eyes to the
pines on the hill above them, and the shadow of an old pain crossed her face. Philip saw it, and his eye held sympathy and understanding. Softly he spoke. “I know what you are thinking, dear one, and we must speak of it now so it will never trouble us again. Because of the sorrow that has been the share of each of us, we can help each other. My own grief over Lorraine makes me capable of understanding what the loss of Chad meant to you. But they are gone now. Their memories will always be a blessing to us. They are safe and happy in that land where there is neither marrying nor giving in marriage. You and I are left behind. Why God took them and left us, we will never know. But we do know that there is work to be done here, and the way will be harder if we have to go alone. God, who gave us each a beautiful experience of love once, can do so again. I believe both Chad and Lorraine would want us to marry if we love each other. I do love you, and I’m daring to hope that you love me a little bit.”

She turned to face him fully, and the shadow was gone as she spoke quietly. “Not just a little bit, Phil. I love you dearly, and if we can go on together here, it will make me happier than I ever expected to be again.”

Then his arms were around her, and his kiss was on her lips.

Sometime later Eleanor asked softly, “When did you begin to care, Phil? If you were so angry at me, how could you learn to love me?”

“I think I really started to love you in March, when you last came to Bethel. I felt you didn’t approve of me, and it seemed tremendously important that you should. That started all the questioning and self-analysis. I
resented it and you, but up in the woods I knew that I loved you. And I had a sign that let me hope you loved me, though you might not know it.”

“Why—what—I don’t know what you mean.”

He laughed at her confusion, but his tone was serious as he said, “One night when the battle was hardest, and I was losing, it came over me with a rush that if I lost that battle, I’d lose your friendship. And I could not bear that. When I thought how empty life would be without you, I knew I loved you. Then, in almost the same instant, came the realization that our friendship meant much to you, also, or you would never have written a letter every word of which must have caused you pain. That knowledge broke me down. I cried like a baby that night, and the next day I started back. And here I am.”

“Yes, here you are, and here I am, and God willing, we’ll travel the rest of the way together.”

The shadows were lengthening across the church lawn, and still they sat and talked. The barriers that had always been between them were gone forever, and they could face together whatever the future might hold.

“Perhaps God will want me to go back to the institute,” said Philip. “I think that is the only really unselfish work I ever did. When I was down there, the needs of those poor, ragged, hungry boys and girls growing up in that ugly district pressed upon me until I forgot myself. If God wants us to go back and live there, will you mind?”

“Oh, no! Often I’ve longed to be back there. Perhaps God
is
calling us to that place. Working there with you I would be supremely happy.”

“There is a movement to get a full-time resident superintendent.
That would mean living there. Would you take Chad down there to live? It isn’t an ideal place in which to raise a child.”

“Other children just as dear to the Lord as he is are born and reared there,” came the quiet reply. “We would always have our own home, which would be Christ-centered and guarded by His angels. If God wants us to go there, it will be the safest place in all the world for us, for it will be the center of His will.”

The arm across Eleanor’s shoulders tightened as Philip said huskily, “With you as a helpmeet I am ready for whatever service He has for me.”

“Where are you staying now? You can wait a few days before going back to the city, I hope.”

“I had planned to take the late bus back to Woodstock and catch the midnight train. I can take a room at the hotel there and come out and see you and the Little Chap again. I don’t have to be in the city until Friday. That would give us three days to visit and make some plans. Is that all right?”

“It certainly is not! Mother Stewart has plenty of room, and you are going to stay with us.”

“They might resent my being there,” he said slowly. “They are the family of your husband, and—”

“Oh, they’re not like that! Mother will be happy for me, and so will they all. If I came home without you I would have to bring a better excuse than that. You will come, won’t you?”

“It certainly is an unorthodox situation, but if you say it is safe, I’ll risk it. It’s worth some risk to be near you.”

Little Chad returned, tired of his play. Philip lifted
him to his knee, and Chad leaned trustfully against the friendly shoulder.

“Where
is
your little boy?” he asked.

“In heaven with his mother,” Philip answered simply.

“My daddy is in heaven too,” Chad informed him. “l guess he’ll take care of your little boy there.”

“Perhaps he will. How would you like to be my little boy while we live here on the earth, and let me be your other daddy to take care of you and your mother?”

“Oh, I’d like that,” Chad exclaimed, his eyes shining. “Patty and Bobby Boy have a daddy—he’s Unka Bob—and I’d like one. Will you be my daddy right away?”

“Not right away, dear,” said Eleanor hastily. “It will mean that you and I leave Grandma and live in the city. We will have a great many things to do first. You and I will have to work hard to get ready.”

“And I have to go back to the city and get a home ready for you to live in. But I’ll be back before long.”

Chad’s lips quivered, and a disappointed little voice said, “But I want a daddy. Can’t Mother and I go with you? You could help with our work, and we’d go fast. And then Mother and I could help you get the house ready. I have waited so
long for:
a daddy.”

Philip and Eleanor laughed, then Eleanor started to explain to Chad, but Philip interrupted.

“Oh, Eleanor, you could! Why wait? We have both suffered so much that it seems a shame to waste even a day.”

“I don’t know what to say. I am confused. It seems so—”

“Just say yes,” Philip suggested. “Finney once told his students that a man is just half a man without a
woman. Help me to begin without delay to do a whole man’s work.”

As Eleanor hesitated, Chad, not knowing quite what it was all about, but sensing her indecision, leaned over and hugged her, whispering, “Please, Miss Honor!”

Eleanor laughed shakily and said, “I don’t seem to have any choice.”

“You have the entire choice,” Philip assured her gravely. “I want you to do exactly as your heart dictates.”

She sat quietly for some minutes, watching the lengthening shadow of the pines. Philip and Chad sat waiting. Her face was very serious, but when she looked up the sadness was gone.

“This is no time for subterfuge,” she said. “I do want it as soon as possible.”

Chad, realizing that a momentous decision had been reached, was ready for a change of subject. “Let’s go home. I’m hungry.”

“Oh, we should,” said Eleanor, looking at the sun now low in the west. “I’m afraid we’ll be late for supper.”

They started down the gravel pad. As they passed the church door Eleanor turned to Philip. “Come and see our little ‘church in the wildwood.’ The door is never locked.”

They walked reverently into the cool sanctuary and stood in silence at the altar. The setting sun shone in through the plain glass windows and lighted the three faces with its glory. Philip slipped to his knees and drew Eleanor down beside him. There, in the quiet of that sunset hour, two who had learned obedience through the chastening hand of a loving Father thanked Him
from full hearts for His love and faithfulness and laid their lives on the altar in service for Him.

Then with little Chad walking between them, they turned toward home. Service and love were ahead of them, and God would lead the way.