Joy for Mourning. Dorothy Clark
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and crossed to the front door. The cold air made him shiver after the excessive warmth of the sickroom. He hunched his shoulders and walked to his buggy.
“Doc.”
So Hubert had followed him outside. Thad turned to face the angry, grief-stricken husband.
The big man cleared his throat. “I wanted to say I know you did all you could, Doc. An’ Barbara was gettin’ better doin’ like you said. She told me she felt stronger—that she thought she’d be gettin’ up in a few days. That’s why I went on my sellin’ trip. But I shoulda known her mother…”
Hubert’s face tightened. He made a visible effort to calm himself. “That butcher never would’ve got in the door if I’d been home.” His wide shoulders sagged. “I don’t know how I’m ever gonna tolerate seein’ that woman around here, but I have to, for our kids’ sake. I reckon that’s my cross to bear for leavin’ Barbara to her mother’s mercies. But that’s nothin’ to you.”
Hubert took a deep breath and stuck out his hand. “Thanks for tryin’ to pull Barbara through, Doc. I reckon you could’ve saved her if she hadn’t been so weak from the bleedin’.” He pumped Thad’s hand, then spun on his heel and walked rapidly toward his barn.
Thad’s heart ached for the grieving man. Anger spread through him at the needless waste of life caused by the common medical procedures of the day. Why wouldn’t his colleagues listen to him? Why couldn’t they see that their patients only got weaker when they drained off their blood?
Thad clenched his jaw, shoved his bag onto the seat and climbed into his buggy, picking up the reins as his horse moved forward. It did no good to think about it. Thinking never changed anyone’s mind. He needed proof. And now, thanks to Barbara Grant’s mother, his proof was gone. Who would trust him to treat them according to his theories now?
Thad shook off his anger and looked around. His horse had automatically turned onto Second Street, heading for home. People were gathered in small groups on the walkway in front of Christ Church, chatting. Families were calling goodbye to friends and climbing into their carriages. Church was over. He’d missed the service again. Disappointment settled in his chest. He’d been looking forward to a good sermon.
A man nodded in his direction. Thad returned the polite greeting and urged his horse to pick up the pace. This was the part of Sunday he didn’t like. It was hard watching the families go home when all that awaited him was a cold meal and an empty house. Maybe he’d go check on Martha Bauer—her cough was getting worse.
“You missed a good sermon today.”
Laina glanced at her brother, laid aside her fork and reached for her cider. “I’m certain there will be others.” It was the most polite way she could think of to say she was not interested.
“Yes. But this one was stimulating.” Justin cut a bite off the thick slice of roast pork on his plate and dipped it in his apple-raisin sauce. “The core message was that the purpose and result of freedom in Christ is service.” He paused with the meat halfway to his mouth and glanced at her, his eyes holding a silent dare for her to question or challenge him. She remained quiet. “Does that not sound like a paradox?” He put the pork into his mouth.
Laina refused to be drawn by his question. The best way to end this conversation was to agree with him. “Yes. I suppose it does.” There! She ignored the flash of disappointment in Justin’s eyes and took a bit of mashed potatoes onto her fork.
“Ah, but it’s not.”
Her brother’s quiet comment brought a sigh up clear from her toes. Laina resigned herself to her fate. Justin wasn’t going to give up. She would hear about the sermon whether she wanted to or not. Irritation rippled through her. She stabbed a piece of meat. When had he become so enamored of God again?
“As Pastor Brown pointed out, God does not call us to the fullness of life in Him simply for ourselves, though we obviously reap the benefits of such a life.” Justin leaned toward her. “Rather, freedom in Christ enables us to become and do all that He made us capable of being and doing when He created us. It sets us free from our own selfishness.” He leaned back and shook his head. “It’s amazing.”
Laina breathed a sigh of relief. Thank heaven that was over. Now perhaps—
“And Jesus Himself is our example. He said, ‘For their sakes I sanctify myself, that they also might be sanctified.’”
Laina tensed as Justin leaned forward again, his gaze fastened on hers. What was he doing? He knew how she felt about God! Though that didn’t seem to matter. He was still droning on.
“Jesus did nothing for Himself. It was all for us. Including suffering death on the cross so we might be free to choose to live in heaven forever with Him.”
A shiver ran up Laina’s spine, spread throughout her body. Justin’s words brought back that moment fifteen years ago when she had given herself to the Lord. She looked down at her plate to break eye contact with him. She still believed in her salvation through Jesus. It was only the other things preached from the pulpit—answered prayer, God’s blessings in this life here on earth—she didn’t believe. She knew from her own experience those things weren’t true, and in her estimation it was cruel for those in the pulpit to give people false hope.
Anger chased the shiver away. From the corner of her eye Laina saw Justin relax back against his chair. Evidently he was through preaching at her. Good! She couldn’t—wouldn’t—listen to any more. Not even for Justin. And she really didn’t want to walk away from his table.
Laina drew a deep, relaxing breath and seized the opportunity to change the subject. She forced a light note into her voice. “I had a lovely time with the children while you were gone. Sarah and I had a tea party.” She looked at her sister-in-law and smiled. “Elizabeth, you must tell me the story behind those dishes….”
Thad pumped water into the trough, forked fresh hay into the rack and spread more on the floor. “All ready for you, Faithful.” He opened the door and stepped aside as his horse gave a soft whicker, walked into the stall and stuck his muzzle in the trough to get a drink.
“It’s been a hard day, boy.” Thad thumped Faithful on the shoulder, then picked up the brush and began to groom him. For long minutes he brushed the horse, emptying his mind of the stressful events of the day, concentrating on the munching sound of the animal eating hay, the soft swish of the brush against the warm, muscular body. By the time he finished, the tightness in his chest had lessened, the tension between his shoulder blades had eased.
He smoothed out Faithful’s mane and forelock, worked a tangle out of the gelding’s long silver tail, then put down the brush, grabbed the old towel hanging over the stall wall and began to rub him down. The horse turned his head and gave him a gentle nudge. Thad laughed and rubbed the velvety muzzle. “Feels good, does it?”
Faithful whickered and nudged him again. “All right. All right…I’m done.” Thad walked into the grain box, scooped up a measure of oats, mixed in a little bran and went back to pour it into the wood manger. “There you are, fellow. If you’re lucky, we won’t get called out tonight and you’ll have time to eat it.” He gave the horse a last affectionate pat and walked to the carriage to get his bag. His stomach rumbled.
Thad grinned and gave his flat abdomen a swat with his free hand. Its turn would come. He shut the barn door and headed for his cold, dark house. If he remembered right, there was bread left from the supper Mrs. Harding had fixed yesterday. And maybe some cheese or apple butter…
Chapter Five
The children! She had to help them! Laina flopped onto her back as the children floated at her out of the darkness. Her arms flailed out into space, her hands grasping at the air. There were too many—she couldn’t catch them all.
“Somebody help me!”
Laina jerked upright, her heart pounding. The dream was so real she swept her gaze around the surrounding