Silent Star Page 5
“I’m sure you’re right. When you’re young, you scarcely think of sickness and death.” He paused and shook his head. “Well, at least that was true before the war. Now I’d imagine most every young person thinks of it. Why don’t we pray.”
Estella reached for the man’s hand and then for Andy’s. “I think that would be just the thing.”
****
That afternoon, Estella made the decision to return to her house and gather a few things in order to spend the night at Andy’s. His breathing was still labored, and she was concerned that he would need to see a doctor if the fever didn’t pass soon.
Leaving Andy in a deep sleep, she trudged the several blocks to her home with her heart quite heavy. Oh, Lord, give Andy the will to live. Help him to see his importance in this world. Let him know that at least one person here loves and cares for him.
She prayed for Pastor Bailey too. She knew the man needed God’s strength in order to take on the burden thrust upon the shoulders of this community. “It can’t be easy to preach encouragement and hope when things seem so far from good.”
“Mrs. Nelson!” Timmy called, waving from his front porch stoop. “Can we come over now?”
Estella groaned. She’d totally forgotten about the boys. “Timmy, I tell you what, let me come over there. I have something to take care of and I can’t stay long.”
She saw the boy’s crestfallen expression. “I’ll bring you both an extra piece of cake to make up for it.”
He perked up at this. “Okay. I’ll tell my mama you’re coming over.”
Estella hurried into her house and took up a small suitcase. Throwing in her nightclothes and personal items, she continued to pray.
“Lord, I want your will in all of this, but if it matters, my will is that Andy recover and learn to be happy again. You and I often see things the same way, so I’m praying that this is one of those times.”
With her packing complete, Estella took up the remaining cake, grabbed a copy of A Christmas Carol, and headed next door. Timmy was waiting for her.
“Ma says you’re to ’scuse the mess.”
Estella laughed. “Your mama doesn’t need to worry about such things.” Just then the boy’s mother appeared.
“Oh, Mrs. Nelson, Timmy said you were bringing cake over. You sure didn’t need to do that.”
“Now, now, Lois, I made the cake and surely can’t eat the entire thing. I want you all to have it. I’ve saved a couple of pieces for another friend.” She handed the dish over. “I also wanted to let you know that I’ll be gone tonight—maybe a couple of nights. I’m going to tend a sick friend.” She looked down at Timmy and Jimmy. “Boys, I’m so sorry to change our plans, but a friend of mine has come down sick. I need to go take care of him, but I’ve brought you a copy of one of my favorite books.” She handed the volume to Timmy. “Maybe your mother would help you with the reading. The story is quite good and it’s about Christmas.”
“I’ll be happy to read it to the boys,” Lois said, then glanced past Estella. “How far do you have to go?”
“Over to Chester Street.”
“That’s a long way and the sun is about to set. Are you sure you want to walk all that way? My Charlie will be home from work at five and he could drive you over.”
“No, my friend is all alone. I’m afraid he might grow worse if I leave him too long.”
“I understand. Now, don’t you worry about a thing. The boys and I will keep a good eye on your place.”
“Thank you, Lois. I knew I could count on you.” Estella started to leave, then remembered the book. “Timmy, when my friend gets well and I get back, I’ll sit down with you boys and we’ll talk about the book. I’ll tell you all about my favorite parts and you and Jimmy can tell me about yours. And maybe I’ll make us some Christmas cookies.”
“Oh boy!” Timmy exclaimed. “That would be a whole bunch of fun. I love cookies.”
Estella laughed and leaned down. “Just between you and me . . . so do I.” She winked and straightened. “Thank you again, Lois. The Good Lord knew what He was doing when He brought your family to this neighborhood.”
The woman blushed. “Well, we don’t have a lot of money, but we know how to be charitable with our time and efforts.”
“And I believe that’s far more important than just about anything else you could offer.”
Leaving Lois and the boys, Estella hurried home to retrieve her things. Before heading out she remembered the sparseness of Andy’s cupboards and grabbed a few of her own supplies to use for dinner and breakfast. No sense taking undue advantage of the boy, she mused. Besides, I’m not at all fond of pork and beans.
Andy was still sleeping when she returned. The house was dark because Estella hadn’t thought to put on a light. She was grateful when the electricity came on without pause. Some folks in town had lost power, and she’d not even bothered to check earlier to see if Andy was one of them.
Slipping down the hall to check on Andy, Estella wondered at the life he led. People avoided him, and his whole family was gone. He must be very lonely, indeed, she thought. I know exactly how that feels, Lord.
She gently touched Andy’s forehead and sighed. He was still hot. Burning from the fever and showing no sign of recovery. She’d once heard a doctor say that a person had to want to get well. Had Andy given up wanting to get well?
Estella whispered a prayer and went to work preparing soup and tidying the kitchen. Spying the spice rack, she was delighted to find a jar of dried garlic. It would add a wonderful flavor to her creation. She hummed a Christmas song as she worked, feeling so very useful and happy. This was as God intended it, she thought. No one should ever live off by himself. It wasn’t healthy.
In the evening, Andy’s boss from the telegraph office stopped by. Estella explained the situation and was relieved to find the man so understanding. After he’d gone, Estella settled down to do some mending for Andy. Earlier in the day she’d washed some clothes for him and in doing so, she found that many items were in desperate need of repair.
I like doing this, she thought as she worked to darn a hole in one of Andy’s socks. I like to be useful—to be needed. She sewed until it was nearly nine o’clock. Putting her things aside, Estella stifled a yawn. She wondered if Andy would mind her being here—spending the night. She’d already decided to sleep on the couch instead of the spare bed. Andy might not like the idea of someone else sleeping in his mother’s room.
She quietly crept into his room and felt his forehead. He seemed a little cooler. Squeezing out a washcloth, Estella wiped his face and arms. Andy moaned and opened his eyes.
“Mrs. Nelson?”
“Yes, it’s me. You just rest, deary. You’ve a high fever and I’m going to take care of you.”
Andy closed his eyes. “I knew you would care.”
Estella had no idea what he meant by the words, but since he’d already fallen back asleep, she had no chance to ask him about it. Perhaps he was dreaming about something else and Estella just happened into the picture when she began wiping him down.
She smiled at him, his red hair sticking out this way and that. He seemed so peaceful, and yet she knew he bore much turmoil deep within. Lord, he needs to learn to trust you. To know that you are there for him, that you care, even when the rest of the world walks away.
She bent down and kissed his forehead as she would have if he’d been her son. “Sleep well, Andy.” She turned to leave but paused at the door. He seemed so lost—so frail. “Please get well, Andy. I need you. I can’t begin to explain why, but I do.”
****
Three days later, Estella praised God when she found Andy sitting up in bed and feeling much better. His color had returned, giving a healthy glow to his freckled face.
“Are you hungry?” she asked as she came into the room with toasted bread, two fried eggs, and a cup of coffee.
“I feel like I could eat a dozen eggs,” Andy declared as she put the tray in front of him.
Andy actually smiled at this. It warmed Estella to see him looking so good. He dug into the food with great gusto. Estella sat down on the edge of the bed and smoothed the covers.
“I’m so happy to see that you’re feeling better. I thought I might lose you that first night. Your boss stopped by to find out why you hadn’t come to work, and I told him I wasn’t sure you’d even make it through the night.”
“I don’t suppose I would have if you hadn’t taken such good care of me,” Andy answered between bites. He hesitated, seeming to struggle with the words. Andy finally whispered, “Although, I have to be honest, I didn’t much care for sticking around.”
Estella nodded. “I felt that. I don’t think I’ve ever prayed so hard for anyone in my life as I’ve prayed for you.”
Andy looked at her for a moment, then put down his fork. “Why? Why did you pray for me like that? Why did you come here and take care of me?”
Estella wondered how she could possibly explain. “I felt so strongly that you needed me.” She choked back her emotion. “And, Andy, I need to be needed.”
Before either one could say anything more, a knock came at the door. Estella pointed at the tray. “Eat and I’ll see who it is.”
She dabbed at the dampness in her eyes. Lord, he can’t possibly understand how much I want for him to heal—in his heart as well as his body. He can’t possibly know how much this has helped to revive my spirits too.
Estella opened the door to find Mary Beth Iseman. She knew the girl from church and was delighted to see such a welcoming smile. “Why, hello. Come in out of the cold,” Estella told the girl.
“Mrs. Nelson! What are you doing here at Andy’s house?” The young woman pulled off her scarf to reveal straight blond hair neatly pulled back and tied with a red ribbon.
“We got acquainted in the cemetery a couple weeks ago. How do you know Andy Gilbert?” Estella asked, reaching out to take the girl’s coat.
“We went to school together, only he had to quit when he was a freshman. I was a year behind, but I always thought he was such a sweet guy.”
“Andy is a sweet guy.” Estella couldn’t have agreed more. He was a sweet, gentle soul who deserved to love and be loved. She hung the coat up and returned to where Mary Beth stood warming her hands by the stove.
“So is Andy here?”
“He is. He’s been very sick—influenza, I believe. He’s much better now, however. Would you like to visit with him?”
Mary Beth nodded. “I feel like I need to talk to him. My mother . . . well . . . she wasn’t very nice to him the other day, and I feel like I should apologize for her.” She lowered her head. “I know a lot of folks aren’t very nice to Andy. I know why too.”
“Mary Beth, you’re such a sweet girl. I know it would do Andy a world of good to have you visit. You just come along with me.”
Estella led the way. Knocking on his bedroom door, she called out, “Are you ready for a visitor?” She knew he’d be stunned to hear who the visitor was, so she quickly added, “Mary Beth Iseman has come to see you.”
At first Andy said nothing, so Estella pushed open the door a tiny bit. “Andy?”
“Mary Beth is here?” he asked, the color once again drained from his face.
“She sure is. Do you want to see her?”
Andy looked down at the tray and then back to Estella. “I . . . uh . . . sure.”
Estella beamed him a smile, then turned to Mary Beth. “He’s just finishing breakfast. Come in.”
Estella watched Andy as Mary Beth went to his bedside. “I’m so sorry you were sick. Mrs. Nelson said you’re feeling better now.”
Andy nodded and looked away. His voice cracked a bit as he answered, “Y-yes. I’m better.”
Estella thought the young woman was remarkably pretty in her blue print dress. A black belt cinched her waist, accenting her petite figure. “Andy should be up and around in another couple of days.”
“I need to be back to work tomorrow,” he said softly. There was no enthusiasm in his voice, however.
“Nonsense. You aren’t recovered enough to go back to walking in this cold. They can spare you another day or two. I told your boss you’d be back when I decided you were well enough and not a moment sooner.”
Mary Beth pulled up the bedside chair and sat down. “I think Mrs. Nelson is right, Andy. You need to get your strength back. I didn’t even know you were sick, but now that I do, I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
Andy blushed. “Thanks.”
They were silent for several seconds, and then Mary Beth launched into her speech. “Andy, I came here because I wanted to apologize for the way my mother acted the other day. I didn’t realize until later that people were being so mean to you. My friend Anne told me that most folks avoid you because they’re afraid you might have a telegram for them. They treat all the delivery boys that way. Mama explained on the way home that with Sammy at war, we were just asking for trouble to have you over. I told her I thought it was superstitious nonsense.” She paused and grinned. “Well, I didn’t exactly say it that way, but that’s what I meant.”
“It is nonsense,” Estella encouraged. “God doesn’t work that way.”
“Exactly. That’s what I said. I told Mama that God knew exactly which person would live and which would die and that it wasn’t Andy’s job to determine that. She agreed but said being near Andy only served to remind her that Sammy could be next.”
“What complete hogwash,” Estella said. She saw the surprised expressions on the two young kids but stood her ground. “Well, it is. For people to alienate Andy solely because of fear or reminders of the war . . . well, they might as well get rid of their radios and stop eating. After all, ration coupons will remind them of the war as well.”
Mary Beth giggled. “They’d have to tear down their black-out curtains too.”
Estella nodded. “And sew cuffs back on their sleeves and pants. Oh, and we could stop saving fat and keep all our pots and pans to ourselves.”
“Exactly!”
The two women burst into a fit of laughter. Only Andy remained sober. Estella came around his bed and gently patted his head as she would a small child. “I find Andy a pleasant companion—not at all a reminder of the war.”
It was Mary Beth’s turn to blush. “I do too.”
Andy finally spoke. “Well, the entire town would call you crazy. I don’t blame them for feeling the way they do—I blame them for the way they handle themselves, the way they act.”
Estella nodded. “It isn’t right. They are blinded by the problems and trials of their own lives. They cannot see or feel anything else. It isn’t at all how God would have it be. God calls us to bear one another’s burdens, to help those in need, minister to those who are suffering. People seem to have forgotten all about that.”
“Well, maybe we need to remind them,” Mary Beth said sternly.
Estella met the young woman’s eyes. “Yes. Maybe we do.”
FIVE
“Baking with you is so much fun, Mrs. Nelson,” Mary Beth told the older woman as they worked to make some Christmas treats. “My mother isn’t interested in even putting up a tree this year. She’s so worried about Sammy.”
Estella pulled a pan of simmering raisins and dates from the stove and poured them into a bowl. “I’m sure she is worried. It can’t be easy to have him so far away, especially at Christmas.”
“Bing Crosby was singing ‘I’ll Be Home for Christmas’ on the radio, and I thought Mama was going to cry her eyes out. She finally stopped just before Poppy got home, but he knew just the same.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. It can’t be easy on you either. Sammy’s your only brother, right?”
Mary Beth continued kneading her dough. “Yup, he’s the only boy. He used to say having three sisters was a real pain in the neck.” She sobered and met Estella’s gaze. “But h
e didn’t really mean it.”
“Of course not.”
Mary Beth’s expression grew distant. “I’m scared something will happen to him. I’m afraid he’ll get hurt . . . even die. I can’t talk to Mama about it because she’s just as scared.”
“Something very well could happen, Mary Beth. It’s the way things go with war. You have to accept the fact that Sammy is in a very dangerous place and he might get hurt—might not come back.”
“I was hoping the war would be over by Christmas, like they talked about on the radio.”
“Wishful thinking,” Estella murmured. “I think that’s everyone’s favorite thing to say. Why, they were saying it after Pearl Harbor was bombed. With great patriotic indignation the boys marched off to war shouting, ‘Remember Pearl Harbor!’ while their folks sat at home and said, ‘Surely it will be over by Christmas.’ Everyone needs to have hope, Mary Beth. You too. It might not be over by Christmas, but it will eventually be over and done with, and we’ll have our boys back home.”
“Some of them won’t be back.”
Estella put her arm around Mary Beth. “No. Some of them won’t be back.”
“So many of the boys from Haven and the surrounding area are dead. It won’t ever be the same, will it?”
“I suppose it won’t,” Estella replied. “But we must trust God. Even in this, He has a plan. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that. Sometimes it’s hard to have hope. But, Mary Beth, we have to have hope—hope keeps us going.”
The young woman looked to Estella. “I’ll keep having hope—if you will.”
Estella smiled. “It’s a deal.” She looked at the table and gave Mary Beth one final squeeze. “We’d better get to work or all of this will go to waste. Then we’ll have the government at our doors.”
“That’s right.” Mary Beth giggled and crossed her arms against her chest in a purposeful manner. “Waste is out! We’re at war!”
****
Andy went back to work the week before Christmas. There weren’t as many telegrams now, but they came steadily nevertheless. As the week progressed, news came of a major German offensive in the Ardennes.