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“WHAT IF WE DO NOT HIDE?” Joy asked, taking them by surprise. David, Uli, and Joy were gathered in the warm kitchen that evening. Out of doors, a chill wind gusted and moaned. David and Uli listened, more than a little chagrined, as Joy elaborated.
“Breona suggested it first. She is adamant that Marit needs a secure place to stay and have her baby—and as equally adamant that she will not leave her side.” Joy smiled. “Breona has only known Marit a few days but has already developed a strong attachment to her.”
She looked down. “I confess, I have also. I do not want to send these girls off with strangers and not know if they are all right. I do not want to think of Breona and Marit alone in the world with no way to care for themselves.”
She mused, “Perhaps ‘hide in plain sight’ describes it better. Marit and I look similar enough to be sisters. We could introduce her as my sister and say that we have brought her here to have her baby.”
David was shaking his head. “I do not like that, Joy. We should not cloak our work in untruths.”
Joy frowned. “You are right. Perhaps that is not the right way, but . . . David, when girls come to you for help, do you not hide them? Do you not intentionally deceive those who are looking for them? When those two thugs threatened you, did you tell them the truth?”
“Those men have no rights on those poor women!” David burst out in anger. Uli touched his arm. She shook her head, just once, and he looked away, chastened.
“What you said is true,” Joy responded. “And they also have no right to Marit or Breona. If we deceive those men about them in some way, is that not the same thing?”
Joy turned to Uli. “Was there not a woman in the Bible who let the Israelite spies into Jericho and hid them, deceiving her own people?”
“Well, yes. Rahab. I see what you are saying, but—”
“And did the Lord not reward her?” Joy asked David.
He frowned.
“And was she not . . . a harlot?” Joy asked.
“Have a care, Cousin Joy,” David warned.
“Well, I do not think we need to lie about who Marit is here in Corinth,” Joy answered with dogged determination. “Perhaps she is a dear friend or distant relative who is in a family way and we have removed her from prying eyes and wagging tongues. Who she is exactly is no one’s concern.”
Joy had told David and Uli the circumstances of Marit’s pregnancy. Considering the circumstances, they were not of a mind to think ill of her, so Uli simply asked, “What are you thinking?”
“The Lord directed me to come and to help you with this work. I know in the heart of my very being that he led me to come here, so I do not want to just pick up and go—because I also know that meeting Marit and Breona on the train was no accident. They do not think it right to leave Corinth either; however, they both need employment.”
Joy was thinking aloud now. “I have some money left from the sale of our property in Omaha. I thought I would look for something here that can support the three of us—four, after the baby comes. I did not see any services near the train siding. Perhaps a shop or little eatery that caters to travelers? It would need to be large enough for us to live in, so that attention is deflected from you and the church.”
Uli nodded, encouraging Joy, who continued. “Cousin David, Cousin Uli. You pled with me to come to Corinth to help. I know that the Lord directed me here. I have been wondering . . . It is no small thing to rescue the one or two who somehow escape . . . but how do we embolden others to help and perhaps end this wickedness? We prayed just this morning, asking the Lord to show us his plan. Is it possible that making a stand, even such a small one, is part of that plan?”
Joy’s brow furrowed. “I do not know precisely what the Lord has in mind but—would you know of any buildings available here in Corinth?” She looked at David.
David thought for a moment. “Perhaps. I would need to speak to the owner of a place I know is empty.”
The next day David went to pay a call on one of his parishioners. When he returned, he offered to show Joy a vacant house and introduce her to the owner.
“Corinth was a booming mining and logging community at one time,” David told Joy on the drive into town. “During the mining heydays a few folks made their fortune. After the gold and silver ran out, Corinth began drying up like many of the boom towns up the creeks and rivers that flow out of the Rockies toward Denver.
“All Corinth had left to offer was a beautiful place to live—if you were willing to live modestly. Then, about ten years ago, a few wealthy families built summer homes here. But Corinth also had something of interest to a group of unscrupulous businessmen—she was less than two hours from the city by train.”
David drove Joy beyond the train siding and onto a promontory that jutted far out over a valley. He pointed Joy toward a large and rustic two-story house built near the overlook.
“Three years ago, one man in particular began buying up the best properties in the village, including those two houses near the center of town. That man and a few others tried to buy this house, but the owner would not sell it.”
Although in disuse, the house, built of rugged timbers, was still striking. Its lines were clean and lovely. Even better, it had a commanding view of the valley and the mountains around it. Joy spied trails leading away from the house and she found herself eager to explore them.
A rusting lock secured the front door. David drew a key from this pocket. “The owner is a member of our church. After his boys moved away and later his wife passed on, he closed up the house. He operates a little smithy over there, on the other side of the siding. The railroad uses his services, as do town folk.”
They stepped inside. Dust motes floated in the dim sunlight. The bottom floor had a single great room in the front with ornate windows facing the valley. A stunning rock fireplace dominated one end of the room; a more practical oil stove stood at the other side. A wide staircase with a curving banister at the back of the great room led upward.
The rear of the first floor contained a spacious kitchen and two attached rooms. The smaller of the two rooms, lined with shelves, had obviously been the pantry. A narrow flight of stairs led from the kitchen to the second floor and on up to the attic. Joy flinched as a mouse skittered across the floor.
On the second floor they wandered down a long hallway and peeked into six bedrooms. One of the bedrooms was obviously the master and had a small, attached sitting room. At the end of the hall, just past the larger bedroom, a door opened to a balcony that spanned that end of the house. David wrestled the door open for Joy but cautioned her about the condition of the balcony. She stood in the doorway where she was safe and stared with pleasure over the trees at the view of the mountains before her.
Above the second floor was a wide attic beneath the high-pitched roof. Joy glimpsed daylight through the roof in two places. Boards creaked and groaned. Cobwebs clung to the bare rafters and dust lay thick and undisturbed across the floor.
“Entirely too much work, I am afraid,” David apologized.
“On the contrary, it may be perfect,” Joy murmured. “May I meet the owner?”
“His smithy is on the other side of the platform, just back in those trees,” David pointed and Joy spied a wisp of smoke and a stove pipe peeping out beyond the trees.
A few minutes later, Joy shook hands with Joe Flynn, “‘Flinty’ to m’ friends,” he said, grinning. His red hair, streaked with gray, still hinted at how he had earned his name.
“Thank you, Flinty,” Joy grinned back. “What can you tell me about the house you have for sale?”
“Well, miss, it ain’t ’zactly fer sale now, but . . . it is a fine place, jest a little long in th’ tooth, kinder like me, ya see?” He laughed and then looked her over quizzically. “Needs a mote o’ work.”
“Yes, I agree. Is it basically sound, though?”
“Yep. Built her m’self, ’bout thirty year ago now, back when Corinth was flush with silver. Raised four boys there, we did. After they growed and moved away, the missus liked to have lodgers, but she’s been gone eight years and it’s too much work fer m’ taste.”
“It has been empty eight years?”
He nodded. “Yes ’m.”
They talked weather, church, and neighbors. Flinty showed them his forge and a machine part he was repairing. Joy and David sipped coffee and listened attentively for an hour while Flinty told them about his wife and their years together. He talked openly about the hard life he had lived before he met Jesus and the changes God had worked in him over the years following. After a time, the conversation came back around to the house.
Flinty looked from David back to Joy. In response to some unspoken question, David nodded.
Flinty eyed Joy with speculation. “Well, miss, it is like this. City big shot came lookin’ t’ buy m’ house, few years back. Got the best views in Corinth, it does. But he had already bought two houses in town and, not meanin’ to be indelicate, miss, I knowed what they’s usin’ them houses fer.” He spat in disgust and then flushed. “I ’poligize, miss. But thet’s why m’ house ain’t ’zactly fer sale.”
Joy nodded. “Flinty, what if I told you that not only would this house not be used for those purposes but would actually be dedicated for God’s purposes?”
Flinty looked at David again. “Well, seein’ as how yer th’ preacher’s cousin an’ all . . . we might dicker a bit.” Several minutes later Flinty found out from personal experience how astute a businesswoman Joy was. She agreed to his asking price—less ten percent—and with his agreement to oversee a scribbled list of repairs that Joy drew from her pocket.
He beamed at her anyway. “You drive a good bargain, miss, but I cain’t say I din’t enjoy it. Most excitement and best comp’ny I’ve had in a year.” He shook on their deal with enthusiasm. “Yes ’m! You’re jest what the doctor ordered, I’m thinkin’.”
Joy smiled back. “I have thoroughly enjoyed our visit too, Flinty. And I will have a check to you by evening.”
~~**~~
