Remnant of Forgiveness Page 8

  “Yours and everybody else’s,” Nelson supplied with a droll grin while they shook hands. “Sorry it took so long.”

  “The Lord has all the time in the world, Son,” he returned kindly, then greeted the rest of the family before turning his attention to Nelson once more. “You’re with the rest of your ‘family’ now, my boy. A few of our brave servicemen didn’t make it back from the war, I’m sad to say, but I’m sure you’ll see some familiar faces. It’s time to get started, so have yourself a seat, and I’ll steer a couple folks your way after the service.”

  Only too happy to oblige, Nelson followed Stella, taking the spot between her and his mom, with his father occupying the aisle seat. After nodding and waving to a half-dozen individuals whose attention their arrival had roused, he let his gaze drink in the familiar painted and paneled surroundings, walnut pews and altar, high ceiling, and burgundy-carpeted aisles. A sight he’d sorely missed during the European conflict.

  Before he’d chosen to study engineering, he often pictured himself occupying a similar pulpit, commanding the attention of a large congregation who hung on his every word. But those youthful dreams no longer held appeal. Now he was content just to listen to a man of God passing on the rich nuggets of truth gleaned from hours of study and prayer.

  From the opening of the service, when the organist played “Shall We Gather at the River?” to the end of this installment in the minister’s sermon series on the cross of Jesus as foretold throughout the Bible, Nelson sensed his spirit absorbing the presence of the Lord as a dry sponge soaked up water.

  “So you see,” the preacher said in conclusion, holding his open Bible aloft, “we have in Isaiah fifty-three yet another vivid word picture of our suffering Savior, one written hundreds of years before His birth in Bethlehem. From Genesis to Revelation, God has provided unmistakable portraits of His Son, the ‘Lamb slain from the foundation of the world.’ His wondrous plan for reconciling fallen man unto Himself is revealed from cover to cover throughout His holy Word. Let us bow in prayer.”

  Afterward, the congregation broke up into small groups to pray for the individual needs of the members and others. Nelson, however, caught the pastor’s eye, and the white head tipped in the direction of his study, an invitation Nelson promptly accepted. He made his way there as quickly as his uneven gait would allow.

  “What can I do for you, Son?” Pastor Herman closed the door behind them, gesturing toward an armchair facing his massive desk before taking the worn leather one behind it for himself.

  The man’s appearance, Nelson noted, was as neat and orderly as the room had always been as far back as he could remember. Small things, yet they instilled trust and confidence. And those sharp blue eyes, though discerning, always put a person at ease. “I’m not sure. I just need to talk to somebody who doesn’t live with me. Confess, maybe. That’s supposed to be good for the soul.”

  “Quite. It’s another example of obedience. The New Testa-ment encourages us to confess our faults to one another.”

  “I understand.” He paused. “I guess what I have to say is, it’s finally gotten through my thick skull that I’ve been blaming God for letting me lose a leg, when I should have been thanking Him for saving my life. All these months I’ve been wallowing in self-pity. What a waste. I really need to make things right and start living for God again. Just wanted you to know.”

  A gentle smile appeared on the pastor’s mouth. “It’s very gratifying to hear that, Nelson. The folks here at church have been praying for you for a long time. I’d suggest you consider making your rededication public some Sunday, let them know their prayers have been answered.”

  “Thank you, Sir. You’re right. I probably should do that.” Limping down that long carpeted aisle while everyone watched would take some courage—and that he was starting to regain, thanks to Mary Theresa’s willingness to help him practice. Had she opened and read the Bible he’d passed along to her? Would she search the pages until she found the peace she so needed?

  The minister’s smile widened into the grin Nelson remembered. “I’m real glad to have you back, Son.” Rising, he came around the desk and clamped an encouraging hand on Nelson’s shoulder.

  ❧

  Mary Theresa gave her finished work a final count the following Tuesday, before returning it to the basket to be turned in.

  “Another long, long day,” Estelle commented, covering her own machine. She placed a hand on her spine and arched her back a little. “Time for us to go home for supper.”

  “Getting tired of me your family must be,” Mary said, expressing one of her fears.

  “Not a chance. They look forward to having you eat with us every week. In fact, Mom and Dad have really taken to you. They talk about you as if you’re their long-lost daughter—which is fine with me. I always wished I had a sister.” Picking up her production quota, Estelle headed for the clerk’s counter, the skirt of her floral print dress swaying.

  And Nelson, Mary wanted to ask. What about him? Does he speak of me, too? She was eager to know how the walking was coming along, among other things. Spending much of her free time in his old Bible gave her a clearer picture of the man inside, and the deeply spiritual person he’d been before the war awed her. A large part of her envied that intimate relationship he’d had with God before he’d been severely wounded. Would he ever recover it? Would she ever find her way to her own peace? Expelling a breath, Mary leaned down for her basket, then followed her friend.

  “Is everything okay with you, Mare?” Estelle asked over the rumble of the trolley on their way home. “You’ve been quiet for days.”

  Mary patted her friend’s hand, noticing that she and Estelle both sported on their fingers the ever-present traces of pin- pricks so common among sewing factory employees. “On my mind there is much. Every night, staying up late, reading, reading.”

  “Must be a swell book!”

  “Yes. The Bible.”

  “Oh.” Estelle seemed a bit taken aback for a second. “Well, if you come across anything puzzling, Nelson’s a good one to ask. He usually knows the answer. At least, he always did before he left for the war. In our church’s youth group, he was the captain of the quiz team, forever drilling everybody else in memory verses and Bible facts.”

  Interesting, Mary thought. But she really couldn’t bother him with her trivial questions. She needed to put distance between them again, concentrate on her friendship with Estelle, as she had in the beginning.

  “Thank goodness he finally started coming to church again,” her friend continued. “He went with us last Wednesday night and twice last Sunday. I’ve even been seeing him studying his Scofield the way he used to.”

  That last bit of news filled Mary with unexpected joy. Up and around on his artificial leg, and back at church? Perhaps he truly had made his peace with God. “And you?” she probed. “In your room a Bible I see. Do you read every day?”

  Estelle shifted in her seat, her cheeks taking on a pinkish hue. “I, um, don’t always give it the time I should, I’m afraid.”

  “In Poland, no Bible I have,” Mary said quietly. “The priests only have them. But I think, in country with so many Bibles, everybody read.”

  “Not as many as one might expect.” Turning to her, Estelle spoke with candor. “I used to read through the Scripture from cover to cover every year. But when Ken, my fiancé, was killed, I hit a pretty low spot. After that, I didn’t pick it up for ages.”

  “Yes,” Mary agreed. “To part with loved one is not easy.”

  “I might have known you’d understand.” She lowered her gaze to the worn floorboards. “I must admit, I questioned the purpose to life—all the while, seriously doubting there was one. Of course, I still went to church during those dark days. Heaven forbid my parents should see how weak their darling girl’s faith was.”

  Mary nodded but didn’t respond.

  “Now,” her friend babbled on, “I’ve gone back to reading through my Bible again. As far as del
ving into the heavy stuff, though, I kind of leave that to guys who want to be preachers.” She flashed an embarrassed grin. “I know, I shouldn’t feel that way. And my conscience has been niggling me about it. The Lord expects His followers to be able to provide answers regarding their faith.”

  Mary really wanted more than that. She wished Estelle would also provide more answers about her brother. But plying her with endless questions would hardly be wise. The man was already on Mary’s mind a little too much. When she studied his Bible, it seemed she could hear his voice doing the reading. Somehow, that had to stop.

  Arriving at the Thomases’, she found Nelson looking comfortable and way too appealing in the easy chair by the radio, his legs propped on the matching hassock. His new black Bible lay open in his lap.

  He glanced up with a smile as they disposed of their purses. “Hi, Sis. Hi, Mary. What’s new?”

  “New? At the salt mines?” His sister snickered. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  Obviously unaffected, he switched his attention from her and zeroed in on Mary, a twinkle in his wide-set eyes. “How about you? Read any good books lately?”

  “One only,” Mary answered evenly, knowing he understood.

  But Estelle filled in the blanks. “She’s been reading the Bible. And I volunteered you, O knowledgeable one, to help her with all her questions.”

  Mary didn’t know whether to blush or blanch, she had such a rush of anticipation, mixed with fear and embarrassment.

  Nelson, however, displayed a mouthful of healthy teeth with his easy grin. “I was just about to go out for another daily constitutional—which, thanks to Dad, shouldn’t be such a chore this time.” Producing a cane from beside the chair, he waved it with a flourish. “Want to keep me company, Mary Theresa? Any questions you might have, just ask away.”

  Mary figured she’d probably come to regret spending more time with the object of so many of her wayward thoughts. But surely she had things in their proper perspective now. If she kept her focus on biblical questions only, maybe it would be all right. Or so she told herself. “Sure. I go.”

  ten

  “That’s quite the cloud bank rolling in off the ocean,” Nelson commented upon reaching the sidewalk outside. “We’ve been needing a good rain.”

  Mary checked the sky, then matched his pace as they set out on their trip around the block. She immediately noticed a new smoothness in his steps now that he had the aid of a cane. Obviously, he had been practicing, and the extra effort showed. And she didn’t mind admitting he looked wonderful, despite his limp. So manly and appealing as the slanted rays of the sun gilded the planes of his face.

  With an inward sigh, she diverted her gaze to the row houses lining the road. A variety of delectable suppers emitted their mouth-watering smells into the early evening air, to be blended together occasionally by the breeze from a passing car. Any minute, and her stomach was sure to growl and embarrass her.

  “So, you’ve been reading the Bible, eh?” Nelson asked casually.

  Mary had wondered how and when he’d bring up the subject. “Yes.”

  “So have I, thanks to you.”

  The unexpected statement caught her by surprise. She swung a glance his way and saw a warm grin reflecting its glow in his light brown eyes. And for a precious few seconds, she imagined they were like any other couple out for a pleasant stroll.

  His voice brought her back to earth. “Before you started coming home with Stella,” he began, “I’d resigned myself to spending the rest of my days in that easy chair in our front room, feeling sorry for myself. I’d shut the Lord out of my life, feeling it was all His fault I’d lost a leg. He was supposed to take care of me, you see. Or so I believed. It took you to make me realize He really had looked out for me, after all.”

  A little unsure of his meaning, Mary gave him a questioning look.

  “The shell that wounded me took my army buddy’s life. It could have just as easily taken mine, too.”

  “Oh.” Thinking of the raft of relatives and friends who had been wrenched out of her world, Mary Theresa had no trouble at all relating to his loss. “You lose the friend. That pain I know.” She averted her gaze to a noisy group of children in the street who’d ceased their game of kick-the-can until she and Nelson passed.

  “Somehow I doubt my losing one pal measures up to what you’ve gone through,” he added, once they were beyond the range of activity.

  Not about to illuminate him on that understatement, Mary stared straight ahead, content to let him do the talking. As long as he was the topic instead of her, she had no fears.

  They turned the next corner, and Nelson resumed where he’d left off.

  “Just knowing that you understand has helped me. Got me moving again, at long last.”

  “I am glad.”

  He stopped abruptly and turned to her. “By the way, Mary Theresa, I hope you don’t mind me butting in between you and Stella. I know she’s the reason you come over. I’ll try not to monopolize you from now on. But I just wanted you to know I appreciate your letting me ramble on. It’s like having another sister.” He started forward again.

  Rambling was the last thing Mary would have called the moving account he had just shared. . .but the “sister” part burst the tiny bubble she’d allowed to start growing in her dreams. She let out a stoical breath and caught up to Nelson. After all, she knew better than to dream in the first place.

  As if sensing the change in atmosphere, Nelson reverted to the original subject. “Stella says you have some questions pertaining to the Bible?”

  Mary relaxed and shrugged a shoulder. “Not a big question. Just a little one.”

  “And it’s about. . .” he said, coaxing her on.

  “The notes you are writing on the sides of the pages. Such as at the supper, when Jesus is washing the disciples’ feet.”

  “Oh, yeah,” he said with a wry grimace. “Sorry about all my scribbling. I should have gotten you a new Bible.”

  “No. The writing, this is fine,” she quickly assured him. “Sometimes a big help, especially with English words I not understand.”

  He appeared to contemplate her statement for a moment. “Then what’s the problem?”

  She cocked her head back and forth, wondering how to put her thoughts into English. “About Judas you write. Jesus knows he is enemy, but still He washes the feet.”

  “Oh, that,” Nelson said, his expression one of relief. “That thought was from one of our pastor’s sermons at church. He was preaching on forgiveness, on how the Lord ministered even to His worst enemies. How He knew the heart of man, yet loved mankind in spite of it. He was always ready to forgive.”

  Mary slowly shook her head. “I do not know about this forgiving of the enemies. Sometimes that is a very hard thing.”

  ❧

  While the setting sun turned Mary’s hair to spun gold around her lovely face, Nelson watched an array of emotions play over her exquisite features. His heart went out to her. He could not imagine someone so fragile in appearance having to deal with enemies as vile as the Nazis. If anyone had deserved to be spared from the horrible things that had befallen her country, Mary had. There was something incredibly special about her. And whatever it was, it convinced him that if he had known her before the war, he would have gladly protected her—even single-handedly—from the entire German army.

  Of course, before those events occurred, he had been able-bodied. Strong. Whole.

  And it wasn’t true that he thought of her like a sister. Quite the opposite. But he couldn’t allow himself to entertain foolish notions of a more personal nature. One rejection was more than enough to get past. He swallowed a lump in his throat. Dear Lord, help me to find the right words. Speak through me to help this searching soul.

  “You’re right, my friend,” he told her. “It is hard to forgive people who’ve wronged us or caused us harm. It goes against our nature. I felt exactly that same way when I fell on the battlefield. In fact, until the l
ast week or so, I doubted I would ever find a shred of forgiveness inside for anyone I felt was responsible for maiming me.”

  “But now?” she asked. “You can forgive?”

  The depth of pain in her blue green eyes was almost more than Nelson could bear. Her entire family, dead. Such awful suffering had been forced upon this angel-woman. “Yes,” he said gently. “But only because the Lord gave me the strength I needed. I couldn’t have done it otherwise.”

  A sad smile softened her lips, and her eyes took on a faraway look. “Those words someone else said. We forgive because God forgives.” A ragged breath came from deep inside. “Still, is a hard thing.”

  Without even thinking about it, Nelson reached over with his free arm and hugged her. “I know, Mary Theresa. I know.”

  ❧

  In reflex, Mary almost stiffened and shrugged out of Nelson’s embrace, even though she knew it was only a gesture of comfort. But then, she remembered. He considered her just another sister. He had no designs on her. She had nothing to fear from him.

  As quickly as it occurred, the hug ended.

  She tried not to assign to his action any more importance than it deserved. Drawing on one of the most valuable talents she’d acquired at Ravensbruck, she kept her expression passive and did not display any emotion whatsoever.

  “Was there anything else you were wondering about?” he asked, as though nothing had happened.

  “Small things.”

  “Well, if you’d like to spell them out, I’ll do my best to explain them.”

  Noticing they were approaching the house, Mary just smiled. “Next time, maybe.”

  “You got it.” His expression took on a sudden brightness. “Say, if you’re free on Sunday, you might consider coming to church with us. Our pastor is wonderful in explaining spiritual matters, and he lays things out so simply, even a blockhead like me can understand them.”