The Test of Love. Irene Brand
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I’ll listen,” she said curtly.
When they were seated, he took her hand. “If you won’t agree to live with me for a year’s trial, we’ll go ahead and get married now.” From his pocket, he withdrew the diamond solitaire she’d returned, and when he tried to put it on her finger, she shoved his hand away.
“You still don’t agree with my conviction that couples should avoid intimacy until after marriage. Since I’m the coordinator of the local Marriage First support group, I won’t have a spouse who opposes that concept.”
Connie fingered the pin on the lapel of her blouse. In a gold setting, a pair of intertwined wedding bands and the slogan, Marriage First, stated the group’s purpose. In an age when the institution of marriage was being threatened by divorce and premarital sex, Connie and her friends had joined other groups nationwide to encourage abstinence. Ray had laughed at her beliefs, and she found that hard to forgive.
“But you still want me,” Ray said, and he bent forward to kiss her. Connie moved to elude his gesture.
“No, that isn’t true. I was unhappy at first, and disillusioned, but I’ve gotten over it, and I don’t want to renew our relationship.”
“But you will think about it?” Ray insisted.
Connie agreed, adding, “But I don’t expect to change. I’m happy with things the way they are now.”
Ray stomped toward the open door and out into the night. He lived in one of the two-room cabins, and Connie supposed he was going there, but she heard his Jeep’s motor start, and he drove by at a reckless speed, apparently heading for town. Had she been wrong to turn him down? Did he deserve a second chance?
She was startled out of her reverie by Della, who was coming down the hall swathed in a terry cloth robe, with a towel thrown over her shoulder.
“I’m going for a swim. The pool will be open for another hour. Why don’t you come with me?”
Connie jumped up from the couch. “Just what I need! Give me a few minutes to change, and I’ll join you.” Della was doing push-ups when Connie came back into the foyer. “Don’t you ever run out of energy?” Connie said, laughing. “At this time of day, I hardly have enough steam to take a few laps across the pool.”
Della bounded to her feet. “That’s because you’re not old enough. It takes years to build up enough stamina to get over the hump.”
“Do you expect to live forever?” Connie joked.
“Nope, but I want to feel good as long as I’m here. I aim to leave earth with a shout and head upward like Elijah did. I don’t intend to cripple into heaven.”
Della hooked her arm into Connie’s as they left the dorm. “Excuse me for eavesdropping, but I was coming down the hall and heard your conversation with Ray. I waited until you’d finished, not wanting to interrupt.”
“Did I do the right thing, Della? Should I marry him?”
“That’s a question I can’t answer for you, honey.” Everybody was “honey” to Della, who humorously admitted that she called everyone that because her memory was so faulty she couldn’t remember names.
“I know I’m the only one who can make that decision. When I agreed to marry Ray, I thought that was the right decision. And when I broke our engagement, I felt that was right, too. I don’t want to make another mistake.”
“I’m not sure either of those decisions were mistakes. How would you have known the depth of your commitment to the Marriage First ideal unless you were tested? But you may be facing your toughest choice now—whether or not to take Ray back.”
“I thought marriage to Ray would be perfect. We were both dedicated to physical fitness, and I believed we could become partners here at NLC, as well as in marriage.”
“Honey, no marriage is perfect. It takes work from both parties to even have a good marriage, and there isn’t any perfection this side of heaven. But, besides your profession, what else did you and Ray have in common?”
“Not much,” Connie admitted ruefully, “and that should have been a warning for me. Since childhood my parents have quoted the Scripture to me, ‘Do not be yoked together with unbelievers. For what do righteousness and wickedness have in common?’ They weren’t pleased with my choice of Ray, but I thought I knew more than my parents.”
“I’ve noticed Ray’s scornful expression in morning worship, and I question that he believes a word of Eric’s messages. You need to consider the depth of his spiritual life in making a decision.”
“The way I feel now, remembering how angry and forceful he became, I’ll never marry him. I hoped we could remain friends as long as he works here, but I’m starting to doubt that. I’m afraid of Ray, and that keeps me uneasy.”
“I pray you’ll find the right mate, honey. I’ve buried two husbands, and I loved both of them. I can’t imagine what it would be like to be married to someone you couldn’t respect, and I hope you never find out. Keep yourself pure until you find the man who shares your ideals.”
“I intend to, but I sometimes wonder if there is a man like that.”
“There are lots of them, honey. Don’t let Ray pressure you—wait until you’re sure.”
The pool wasn’t crowded, so Connie pulled off her robe and eased into the tepid water. She paused to admire the skill of Bobby Richie, a young athlete who was a regular in NLC’s weight room during football season. This summer, he’d signed up for NLC’s body building program in preparation for a cross-country bicycle trek. He sprang from the board, executed a graceful somersault and dived into the water.
After swimming the length of the pool six times, Connie felt refreshed and glad she’d come, for the tension she’d experienced during the meeting—and while she’d talked with Ray—had eased. She’d once looked forward to their weekly board meetings, but she didn’t any longer. She was always edgy, wondering what Ray would do next. Why was Ray biased against Joseph?
Connie waved to Della, who rested on the side of the pool, waiting to plunge into the water again. On the way back to her apartment, Connie turned aside to the chapel and sat in the back pew. Connie’s father, a machinery salesman, had located the abandoned pioneer log church in the western part of the state, and her parents had helped her dismantle the building, log by log, and arrange to have it hauled to the Center, where Connie had hired a builder to reassemble the chapel.
Each morning when Eric conducted the half hour service, he stood behind a hand-carved lectern that she’d found in an antique shop and had painstakingly restored to its original splendor. A small electronic organ was used for congregational singing, but the remainder of the time, quiet, taped music lent an atmosphere of peace and hope to the small room. A few minutes of meditation in the chapel always lifted Connie’s spirits as she looked at a large painting behind the pulpit depicting Christ’s healing of the crippled man at the pool of Bethesda.
In the early days, when she’d had so much trouble getting the Center started, and when financial straits made her wonder if the work was worthwhile, Connie had often come to the chapel and focused her attention on Jesus and the man He’d healed, which reminded her of the first line of a poem she’d once read—when the author had suggested that Christ used the hands of others to do His work. When Jesus went back to Heaven after His years on earth, He’d commissioned His followers to continue His mission. Connie considered herself in partnership with Jesus to bring hope to the disabled as He had done.
Joseph Caldwell came to mind. She welcomed the challenge to work with him until he could walk with the assurance and the erect bearing he’d possessed when she’d seen him on television. Thinking of him made her wonder about Ray’s antipathy toward Joseph. She supposed she was foolish, but she suspected that Ray didn’t want her in Joseph’s company, as if he were jealous of him. She’d shown no more interest in Joseph than she had any other potential patient of NLC. Or had she? Had she inadvertently