Cecilia had sent such glowing letters about Steve home to her parents that by Thanksgiving they were very receptive to her suggestion that he come home with her and spend the holiday with them. Their confidence in the judgment of their daughter was almost boundless, and their curiosity to meet the young man who had so thoroughly won her affection led them to write him a friendly invitation.
When Steve received their letter, he ripped it open voraciously and read its contents with unconcealed surprise and delight. Apparently he had been accepted by the Endsruds sight unseen solely on the weight of Cecilia’s love! Almost at once little flinches of apprehension began to coil and spring around in his stomach. Would the real Steve match the image of him that Cecilia had projected to them, filtered through the rose-colored lenses of young love? Would he have to struggle to wear the thin mask of polite conformity just to keep their image of him from shattering? These fears haunted him on and off until finally just two days before they were due to leave for Meadowville, he confided them to Cecilia.
She giggled. He looked so serious.
“I’m sorry,” she said, realizing that he was serious.
“Take a look at me,” she instructed, staring him in the eye.
He stared back at her.
“They’re used to me, aren’t they?”
That’s all she needed to say. If they could love Cecilia with all her strange ways, maybe they wouldn’t have any trouble with Steve and all his strange ways.
And so the vacation came. Each holiday a special train for students used to run from St. Mark to the Twin Cities on the old Minneapolis, St. Mark and Southern Railroad. Its timetable was so arranged that leaving St. Mark on Tuesday evening, it arrived in Minneapolis to make a connection with the Great Northern passenger train heading northwest. Steve and Cecilia were thus able to travel the one hundred thirty miles from Minneapolis to Meadowville in three short hours, arriving at 11:00 p.m. As the train pulled into the station, Cecilia snuggled up to Steve in the seat, squiggling with nervous excitement. He squiggled back.
They were the only two passengers to get off at Meadowville. Uncle Irv and Aunt Ellie threw their arms around their daughter and smothered her in kisses, despite their usual Norwegian reserve. Then they turned to Steve. The pastor firmly grasped his hand and, looking him straight in the face, smiled and said with conviction, “Welcome, Steve! It’s a privilege to have you here with us for Thanksgiving.”
Steve saw clarity and goodness in the pastor’s eyes, and in his clean oval countenance he perceived an honest man. Heartily he replied, “Thank you for inviting me. I am very happy to be here.”
Ellie took his hand in hers and also welcomed him warmly. Steve’s nervous fears were already melting away.
Only then did Steve look around and notice, of all things, that a circle of people had gathered around them in spite of the late hour. Nobody offered any excuse or apology for showing up to welcome Cecilia home. Steve stood back in wonder as people descended on her from all sides, each one receiving a moment of special attention from her. They had many questions for her, but he noted that she had just as many for them! Then, inching back a couple of steps towards him, she reached out and, taking him by the left hand, drew him into the circle. A hush fell over the excited little mob.
“This is my Steve. You’ll love him.”
Then looking first at Steve and then at the people, “These are my friends. You’ll love them.”
In the long silence that followed, waves of love washed over them both. By this time, tears were flowing down Steve’s cheeks. “I know I will,” he beamed at her friends through his tears.
On the way home as the three Endsruds were cheerfully bringing one another up to date on matters close to their hearts, Steve reflected on Cecilia’s reception. It was easy to see why everyone loved her. She gave herself so genuinely and so generously to each and all. There was nothing effusive about her, nothing that smacked of meddling. Each person simply received a special portion of her caring heart. This made him love her all the more and marvel that she loved him.
When they arrived at the parsonage, everyone sat around eating cake and drinking coffee. The happy parents had so many questions for Cecilia about college and friends and music that she had a hard time fitting questions about some of her friends edgewise into the conversation. They could have sat there talking until dawn.
At last Aunt Ellie looked at Steve, who had scarcely said a word, and exclaimed, “Gracious, Steve! I imagine you’re really enjoying all this small-town gossip!”
Everyone laughed. Steve was, in fact, thoroughly enjoying this “gossip.” Like a rose his Cecilia was continuously opening before him, growing more beautiful in his eyes by the moment. All he needed to be very happy was to watch her in action and listen to her.
At any rate, it was time for bed. The spacious frame house had more rooms in it than the Endsruds ever needed during their twenty-six-year tenure in Meadowville. Steve was introduced to the genial atmosphere of his bedroom towards the rear of the house upstairs.
He undressed and fell limply into the ample mattress, tugging the fresh sheets up under his chin. The words came out all by themselves, “O my dear dear God! I love You so much!”
The old clock on the mantle downstairs struck two.
As he closed his eyes and sank into slumber land, there was his Cecilia smiling at him, not far away but right there close enough to touch. A shiver of joy shook him from head to toe. And he was asleep.