As Elsa dressed for church the next morning, Shane’s words whirled around in her head. “I’ve fallen in love with you.…”
Hearing them last night was like a dream come true, and Elsa felt tempted to pinch herself to make sure it was truly reality. Shane defended her, protected her … everything she’d asked God for in a husband. But she had mistakenly thought she would have to forgo those attributes because of her own capabilities.
The only problem remaining was Shane’s unbelief, and if they were to have a real marriage, as opposed to one procreated by their parents’ contract, then his lack of faith was an issue. But Elsa felt certain his conversion to Christ would occur in the near future. He had agreed to attend this morning’s Resurrection Sunday service, and Elsa claimed the victory beforehand, knowing it was God’s will that none should perish but that all should come to repentance.
Wearing her Sunday best, a raspberry-colored, linen frock with white lace adorning the neckline and sleeves, Elsa left her bedroom and walked down the hallway to the kitchen. Breakfast had been a simple fare this morning of porridge and canned peaches, so as to allow Elsa time to prepare for church, and she’d thought all the guests had left. But in the dining room, she heard male voices. They sounded somber. Curious, Elsa slipped into the adjoining area just in time to hear Doc tell Shane and Papa that Mrs. Thomasohn died last night.
“I did everything I could. So did the family.”
“Ja, I am sure das true,” Papa replied.
“Well, I thought, being neighbors, you would want to know.”
Tears filled Elsa’s eyes and she bit her bottom lip in effort to thwart them. Poor Samantha …
“Was Mrs. Thomasohn a … a Christian?” Shane asked hesitantly.
“Oh, ja, she loved da Lord,” Papa replied.
He nodded. “Guess that’s something to be thankful for, huh?”
“Yes, you’re right, Son,” Doc said, clapping Shane on the back with one arthritic hand. “We don’t have to mourn like the heathen do, because as Christians, we know there’s life everlasting once we leave this world. In heaven, there’ll be no more pain, no more sorrow … and God will wipe away all tears from our eyes.”
Recognizing the heartfelt promise from the Book of Revelation, Elsa choked on a sob. A moment later, Shane’s strong arm was draped around her shoulders, hugging her to him.
“There, there, now, don’t cry, Elsa. I know you’re sad, but think of it this way—we’re all on a journey, and Mrs. Thomasohn’s just gone on ahead of us. You’ll see her again.”
“Amen!” said Doc. “The Good Book says to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord. I s’pose this is like resurrection day for that dear lady. We call it Easter Sunday when we celebrate our Lord’s ascension from the grave, and in many respects, we could celebrate for Mrs. Thomasohn in the same manner.”
Doc’s analogy lessened Elsa’s sorrow, although she knew it would take time for God to heal Samantha’s heart, and the hearts of her father, brothers, and sisters-in-law. It had taken a long while before Elsa didn’t mourn for her mama, and even now she missed her sometimes.
Shane reached into the inside pocket of his vest and produced a white handkerchief. “Here you go, Darlin’. Dry your eyes. That’s right. Now, blow.”
Elsa complied, feeling like a little girl. But, finally, her embarrassment overtook her, and she snatched the linen wipe out of Shane’s hand. “I can blow my own nose, Shane Gerhard, thank you very much.”
Grinning, he allowed her the courtesy, after which time Elsa absently passed back his handkerchief. Shane pocketed it once more.
“See that, Arne?” Doc asked with a chuckle. “Looks to me like true love.”
“Ja, only true love vill compel a man to return a soiled handkerchief to his pocket.”
Elsa winced and looked over at Shane, an apology on her heart. For the first time ever, she saw an expression of chagrin creep across his features.
Standing up in front of the church, Elsa sang a solo, and Shane decided she had the most beautiful voice of any woman he’d ever heard. A deep second soprano, she serenaded the congregation with a stirring number. After she returned to the pew and her place between Shane and Arne, Pastor Tidewell delivered his sermon.
On the whole, the Sunday service had a somber feeling to it, Shane thought. Not only were the parishioners grieving for their friend and neighbor, but also Pastor Tidewell chose to speak on a very weighty subject: the Crucifixion. He said in order to rejoice on Easter Sunday, one had to understand what transpired the few days before.
Shane tried not to wince when Pastor Tidewell described how the Roman soldiers nailed the Lord Jesus to a rugged cross, leaving Him there to suffer in bitter agony.
“And do you know who Jesus Christ saw while He hung on that tree? He saw you, and you, and you, and me.” Pastor Tidewell pointed at various individuals, and Shane felt sure it was no accident that his gnarly finger included him. “Christ died for all, and if you don’t believe me, look here what the Bible says in Romans chapter ten, verse thirteen. ‘For whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved.’ Whosoever means anyone who has a mind to accept God’s free gift of salvation. And how do we know it’s a gift? Well, look with me, if you will, at John chapter three, verse sixteen. Let’s all read that passage together, shall we?”
Shane looked on with Elsa and read along with her. “‘For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.’”
“Did you see that word gave? That’s right, God gave us His Son to suffer in our stead. Now, I want you to read that verse once more, but silently this time,” Pastor Tidewell said, “and I want you to substitute your own name where the passage says ‘the world’. All right, go ahead. Read it.”
Shane did so, swallowing hard. For God so loved Shane Gerhard, that he gave his only begotten Son …
He sat there and stared at the words now swimming before his eyes. Christ died for him? Shane Gerhard, a no-account, “ne’er-do-well” fellow that didn’t deserve anything less than hellfire? Yet, Shane believed it, although he might not have had Elsa not deemed him her “hero.” She’d started turning his thinking around. Furthermore, he couldn’t explain why, but he suddenly believed the Bible, too. It was like the times when his gut instincts took over during a card game and he called the right deal. This morning, his gut instincts were calling him to choose a different way.
“Did you feel it?” Pastor Tidewell asked, smiling broadly, his gaze roving over his congregation. “Did you feel that little tug on your heartstrings? Why, that’s the Holy Spirit. He’s trying to get your attention.”
All right, Lord, Shane prayed silently, unable to help a small grin. You got my attention. It’s taken You twenty-four years, but I’m listening now.
During the week following, Elsa noted a change in Shane. He seemed more … mature, and she wasn’t sure what caused it. But instead of pestering her in the kitchen, teasing and talking her ear off, he took to helping Papa around the boardinghouse. He even tilled the plot out back for the vegetable garden and fixed the outer stairwell, which had grown rickety from neglect.
“Uncle Arne,” Shane said after supper one evening, “have you ever thought of making this place into a hotel?”
“Nein, too much vork, und I am an old man.”
“Well, I’m a young man, and I’d be willing to put forth the funds and some of the labor.”
Coffeepot in hand, Elsa slowly turned from the box stove in the dining room and stared at Shane.
“Nein, I do not vant to run a hotel.”
“I do. I’ve given the matter plenty of thought.”
Elsa set down the coffee pot and wiped her hands on her apron. “What kind of hotel?” she couldn’t keep from asking.
Shane smiled. “A very respectable one. No gaming tables. No strong drink, and I’d like to renovate this boardinghouse and stay in Hickory Corners.”
“You would? Why, that’s wonderful.” Elsa caught Shane’s enthusiasm and glanced at her father.
“Vith you und your hotel, den vhat is to become uf Elsa und me?” Arne asked, looking concerned.
“I’ve got that all figured out. See, as part of the reconstruction, I would erect special quarters for you and I’d build an apartment above the hotel rooms for myself and …” He bestowed Elsa with a meaningful look, and her knees weakened.
Shane cleared his throat and began again. “Uncle Arne, I want to marry Elsa and live here in Hickory Corners.”
Arne gave him a suspicious frown. “Marry my Elsa?”
“That’s right.” He glanced at her again before adding, “If she’ll have me.”
“Oh, I will!” she declared, stepping forward.
Shane grinned.
“Now, vait a minute, here.…” Arne held up a forestalling hand. “Young Shane, I cannot allow my Elsa to marry a man who does not share our faith. Da Bible says so.”
“I share your faith, Uncle Arne. I believe.”
Arne narrowed his gaze. “I thought you had questions about God und salvation.”
“I did, but the Lord answered them.”
“Vhen ver you born again?”
“Excuse me?” Shane frowned.
“Born again … da change dat happens vhen you believe.”
“Ah, let’s see …” He rubbed his shadowed jaw as he contemplated the question. “I would have to say it happened on Easter Sunday.”
Watching the exchange, Elsa sensed Shane’s earnestness. His reply didn’t sound anything like those practiced apologies he had delivered during the first days after his arrival.
“I’m a Christian, Uncle Arne. It’s just like that song we sang on Wednesday night—‘Amazing Grace.’ I once was lost, but now I’m found. That’s me. Found.”
“Hmpf!” Arne stood. “Ve vill see about dat.”
He shuffled passed Elsa and headed into their back rooms. She frowned in his wake, then turned back to Shane. “What do you suppose has gotten into him?”
With a shrug, he rose from the bench and walked toward her. “Will you really marry me?” he asked, taking her hands in his.
“I really will. You’re my hero, remember?”
“Sure, I do.”
Her father reentered the dining room all too soon as far as Elsa was concerned. In his hands, he carried a leather portfolio. “Look vhat I found just dis afternoon. It vas in my bureau. In da bottom drawer.”
Elsa felt the blood drain from her face. “The receipts?”
“Ja.”
“Why didn’t you say something, Uncle Arne?” Shane asked, releasing Elsa’s hands and striding over to the table. He opened the leather packet.
“Elsa called us to supper, und I forgot. But now you don’t have to get married. You can go back to St. Louis und collect your inheritance.”
Elsa opened her mouth to rebuke her father for trying to dissuade Shane, but suddenly she saw the situation for what it really was—a test of Shane’s love for her. She willed herself not to cry while she watched Shane inspect the vouchers. He had a choice to make.
“Looks like everything is in order. The debt’s paid.” He pivoted and faced Elsa. “Do you see this?”
She nodded weakly and forced a little smile.
Receipts in hand, he stepped toward her. She met his gaze, holding her breath, waiting, wondering … hoping. Then in one, two, three smooth moves, Shane tore the documents into shreds. Arne began to chuckle, while Elsa stood by and watched as Shane tossed the pieces into the air. They floated to the ground like fat snowflakes.
Elsa began to half laugh and half cry.
“I no longer care about those receipts,” Shane told her. “I don’t even care about my inheritance. I’ve discovered something more valuable than gold right here in this sleepy little town. Now, all I want is to marry you, Elsa … because I love you. Because I’m your knight in shining armor, and you need me.”
“Oh, Shane …” Elsa practically threw herself into his arms. “Papa, say I can marry him. Please.”
“Ja, go ahead. You have my blessing.”
“Can I kiss her, Uncle Arne?” Shane asked, wearing a desirous expression that caused Elsa to tremble in his arms with anticipation.
“Ja, but only one kiss. You are not married yet, und do not forget it.”
“Yes, Sir.” A rakish gleam entered Shane’s eyes. “Reckon I’d better make this one count.”
He pulled Elsa close, and then his mouth captured hers in the sweetest of all kisses.
And she immediately knew this man who had first made her life tumble like a child’s blocks had just set it aright again.