Chapter Three

Eli was recovering, and they could be married soon. June wanted to get on with the Lord’s work with Eli at her side. After their talk yesterday she, too, could visualize the tabernacle. What a tribute to God’s glory! She wanted to be part of building the monument, part of the dream. In a small way she would be building a tribute to Papa for all the years he’d spent preaching the gospel. Papa’s name wouldn’t be on the tabernacle, but in her heart she would know that the monument represented a part of him.

It would take a good while for Eli to regain his strength, even longer to collect sufficient funds to build the tabernacle. He had seemed so much weaker after their talk than when she entered his room. She would keep her visit brief today.

She brushed her hair until it crackled, then tied it back with a pink ribbon. Papa would have been proud to have Eli for a son-in-law. Sitting for a moment, she stared at her mirrored reflection. Eli Messenger was everything Ruth had written about her son, and more.

June’s plainness had no effect on him.

Her heart swelled when she realized that Eli was one of a rare breed of men who looked beyond the exterior and sought a person’s inner beauty. “Thank you, God, for giving me such a perceptive husband. And a handsome one, too. You’re far too good to me.”

She pinched her cheeks for a little color. She must write both sisters immediately after her visit with Eli this morning. If Eli felt up to it, they could both write. Faith and Hope would be happy to hear from their new brother-in-law.

Moments later she walked down the corridor carrying a basket of oranges. Ettie had purchased the fruit the day before, saying they were Eli’s favorite. Humming under her breath, she smiled when she saw Reverend Inman walking toward her. It was his custom to visit Eli early before he started the busy day.

“Good morning, Reverend—”

Isaac took her by the arm and turned her around, urging her back down the corridor. Puzzled, she followed, wondering why he was acting so strangely.

Steering her back into her room, he closed the door.

“Reverend Inman—?”

Drawing a deep breath, he ran his hands over his ashen features. June’s heart tripped as she sank to the side of the bed. The reverend looked as if he’d just seen a ghost! Something must have happened with the crusade.

Edging forward, her eyes anxiously searched his. “What’s wrong, Reverend?”

“It’s—” his voice cracked, then steadied—“it’s . . . Eli.”

“Eli?” She felt the blood drain from her face. “Has he had a setback? He seemed to be feeling much better when I left yesterday—”

Shaking his head, the reverend took her hand. Tears filled his eyes, and he said softly, “There’s no easy way to tell you, June. Eli is gone.”

“Gone?” June’s mind whirled. “Gone where?” Her heart sank. Oh, dear Lord. Gone. Eli had started thinking about the marriage and her plainness and decided to go back to Ohio—

“But he was so weak—he wasn’t able to travel—”

Reverend Inman bowed his head, his voice barely a whisper. “Gone.” The silence was unbearable. A million images raced through June’s mind. Eli gone? Even if he were feeling better, where could he have gone in the middle of the night?

“When . . . when did he leave?” June struggled to maintain her composure. The news was devastating. How could she have been so taken with Eli—felt so good about him and the marriage—and been so wrong?

“A few moments ago,” the reverend said softly. “I’m sorry. . . . It was so unexpected. . . . There was no time. . . .”

June’s anger swelled as the implication of Eli’s actions hit her. “You don’t need to apologize for Eli. If he didn’t have the decency to say good-bye—”

“June.” The solemnity in the reverend’s voice stopped her. “My dear—” he bent forward, squeezing her hand gently—“I’m so sorry—you misunderstand. Eli’s gone home . . . to be with the Lord.”

For a moment June couldn’t comprehend the enormity of what he was saying.

“I am so very, very sorry.” The reverend’s face crumpled, and he began to weep. “Eli was like a son to me.”

Sliding off the bed, June held him as his sobs filled the room. She had never witnessed such pain. The exhibition tore at her heart.

“We don’t understand God’s ways,” Reverend Inman said brokenly, “but we have to believe there’s a reason for everything that happens.” His features constricted. “God forgive me, I can’t imagine what it would be . . . taking Eli when. . . .” Words failed him.

“Eli . . . gone,” June whispered as the realization sank in. Eli was dead. “But why? Why?” she cried. “Yesterday he was feeling . . . I prayed . . . prayed so hard for him.”

Reverend Inman fumbled in his pocket for his handkerchief. “I have no explanation. . . . He seemed to be improving. Toward dawn his fever came up again, and he was having trouble catching his breath. He rang for Ettie. She came for me, and . . . an hour later he slipped away.”

June bit her lip, shaking her head. Tears welled to her eyes. Eli gone? Why did God bring her to this faraway place to marry such a wonderful man, only to call him home before their life together ever started? June experienced something foreign to her. Doubt. Why would God do something so unfair to Eli? His life had barely begun. . . . There was so much he wanted to do to help build the reverend’s tabernacle.

“Oh, Reverend Inman.” She held the older man as he broke down again. What a grievous loss this kind man must feel. She barely knew Eli, and she was overcome by news of his death. What must the reverend be feeling?

When the wave of sorrow receded, he got unsteadily to his feet. Blowing his nose, he shook his head, trying to regain his composure. “His family must be told.”

June thought of Ruth Messenger’s glowing letter, Eli’s great-grandmother’s lovely handkerchief—the family would be heartbroken.

She patted Reverend Inman’s shoulder, fortifying herself for the terrible task that lay ahead. “I will tell Eli’s parents of his death and make arrangements for his burial.”

“I can’t allow you to do that, June. You’ve only just arrived.”

“Please, Reverend Inman. I need to do this. I know Eli and I weren’t married, but in a way I feel as if we were. Let me do this, for both you and Eli.”

“Parker—”

She swallowed, steeling herself for the most onerous task of all. “I will inform Parker.” It wouldn’t be the easiest thing she’d ever done, but then, it wouldn’t be the hardest.

Coming to grips with the knowledge that she was a widow before she was ever a bride was the hardest thing.

My dear Mr. and Mrs. Messenger:

It is with the deepest regret that I write this letter. Your beloved son, Eli, passed away early this morning. He had been ill for nearly a week but expected to fully recover. We tended him and prayed for his healing; still, God saw best to call him home.

Eli was everything you said and more. And though we had yet to marry, I shall forever feel the loss of this wonderful man I was given the pleasure of knowing for even a brief time. I pray God will give you and your family abundant comfort in your time of need.

You will remain in my thoughts and prayers, as Eli will always hold a special place in my heart.

Yours in Christian love,

June Kallahan

Before sealing the envelope, June gently tucked the handkerchief inside.

Her bravado slipped, and she really wept for the first time, still unable to believe that Eli was dead.

Later that morning June sat on a horse, looking down on Pine Ridge Logging Camp. This was Parker Sentell’s world. Teams of oxen were skidding logs from the cutting area to the landing. June could hear the sound of axes biting into trees and the occasional shout of “Timber!” in the distance.

Parker’s camp appeared to be hacked out of the dense woods, and one of the bigger, better managed outfits. Beyond the string of bunkhouses and the cookshack/dining room were the office/living quarters for the bosses and a large barn containing oxen and what looked to be a milk cow. June spotted the river. Logs were stacked high on miles of rollways along the banks, where they awaited the spring log drive to the mills.

Reverend Inman had told her that Parker ran Pine Ridge and oversaw four smaller camps. Men respected him, if not for his size and position, then because they knew they were dependent upon him for work. Loggers came and went. If a man didn’t work for Sentell now, he eventually could.

June couldn’t imagine women in camp. Not many would subject families to such primitive living conditions.

Nudging the horse’s flanks, she rode down the small incline into camp and stopped in front of the office.

“A little far from home, aren’t you, Miss Kallahan?”

Her horse shied at the sound of Parker’s voice as he reached out and grasped hold of the bridle. She was met with distant blue eyes.

Her arrival attracted a small crowd. Shantyboys stopped what they were doing to stare at the newcomer. June didn’t want to break the news of Eli’s death to Parker in front of others. Eli’s sudden passing would be hard enough for Parker to accept. “May I speak to you in private, Mr. Sentell?”

His eyes narrowed with impatience. “Concerning what?”

“In private, please.” She started to dismount, surprised when she felt his hands lifting her slight weight off the saddle.

“What’s this about? Is Eli worse?” Concern tinged his voice.

She glanced around, spotting the cookshack. “Can we talk in private there?”

He directed her toward a long, low building with smoke curling from the chimney. It was warm inside, and in spite of the spartan interior, the pleasant aroma of coffee mingled with fried potatoes, sowbelly, flapjacks, and molasses syrup.

“Coffee?”

“No, thank you.”

Long tables flanked by plain benches stretched the length of the room. At one end a thin man with a knit cap stood in front of the big iron cooking range and stirred a huge pot.

Motioning for her to take a seat at the far end of a bench, Parker took the seat opposite her.

“What’s this all about?”

June folded her hands, then took a deep breath. “It’s Eli.”

“What’s wrong? He was better yesterday.”

“I know. . . . I’m sorry, Parker.” There was no easy way to tell him. She was feeling what Reverend Inman must have felt when he broke the news to her. That seemed like days ago. Better to get it out, then try to offer him comfort and prayer. “Eli passed away early this morning.”

Color drained from his face, and compassion flooded her. He and Eli had been close, yet, because he was a man, he couldn’t cry; he would be expected to buck up.

“We’d hoped . . .”

Parker’s fist slammed against the table, and he got up.

June patiently waited for the initial storm to pass. Papa’s emotions had flared easily, but he got over it just as quickly.

“No,” Parker said tightly. He strode to the window, rubbing his clean-shaven chin. Gripping the top of the window frame, he stared at the activity going on outside.

June wished she had the proper words of condolence. Eli’s death was so sudden, so unexpected, that she could barely grasp it herself. “I’m sorry. I know you had a great deal of respect for Eli—”

Parker turned. “Why?”

“Why?”

“Why did God take him?”

June sighed. She had expected sadness, yes, even disbelief, but not anger. She could never understand why the bereaved were often so quick to blame God for what appeared to be senseless tragedy. “Parker, are you a Christian?”

His shoulders filled the breadth of the small window. For a long time he didn’t answer. Finally he said in a low voice, “I accept Jesus as my Savior, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Then how can you blame him for Eli’s death?”

A muscle in his jaw firmed. “Eli’s death doesn’t make any sense. I get mad, Miss Kallahan, when a man is taken in his prime for no reason at all.”

“Eli’s passing doesn’t make sense to us, but it does to God. He always knows—has always known—what is right, what is best.”

His expression closed. “There’s no purpose for Eli’s death. It shouldn’t have happened.”

She chose not get into a discussion of whether God knew what he was doing. There was no point in such a discussion. God was always right. Parker must know that. Grief was speaking.

“We may not always agree with God, but he doesn’t make mistakes.”

Parker turned from the window. “Isaac is responsible for this.”

“Isaac? Reverend Inman?” What could he possibly have to do with Eli’s death?

“The ‘dream,’ the tabernacle!” Parker snapped. “Eli was consumed with the thought—spoke of nothing else but his dream of building Isaac’s tabernacle, some great shrine to draw people.” Bitterness tinged his voice. “Perhaps, as I’ve argued all along, it wasn’t God’s plan but Isaac’s.”

“Of course you’re at liberty to believe whatever you like.”

Parker paced back and forth, his hands gripped at his sides. He talked more to himself than to her. “God’s not interested in buildings or any of the other trappings that people say they need to glorify him. This is for Isaac’s glory.”

How could this man call himself Eli’s friend and have such thoughts? It was for God’s glory, not Reverend Inman’s, that Eli dreamed of the tabernacle.

“I understand you’re overwrought, Mr. Sentell.” June stood up so she didn’t have to look up quite so far to talk to him. “I understand your grief and share it—”

“How can you share my grief? You barely knew Eli.”

That was true. But she’d known him long enough to know he would be appalled at his friend’s reaction. “I knew him long enough to know that I could have loved him deeply.” For Eli’s sake she couldn’t let the issue of the tabernacle go unchallenged. “Reverend Inman’s dream is to provide a place of worship, a place like no other. Eli shared that dream, worked hard to fulfill it. God deserves our finest.”

“Don’t give me that. God doesn’t require monuments.”

“Of course, that’s true—”

“People around here aren’t used to grand buildings, Miss Kallahan. Life is hard. I don’t know about Cold Water, Michigan, but life in Seattle, Washington, is hard. Most of the community works in one of the logging camps. And life in a logging camp is hard. It’s all a man can do to hold it together. They work six days a week and don’t see wives and families until spring breakup or the end of the log drives.”

He gestured toward the door. “Most come from distant parts and have few contacts with the fairer sex because of the isolation. That can make a man testy, Miss Kallahan. Real testy. The men earn between twenty-five and thirty dollars a month, plus board. They live in drafty cabins built from lumber they cut themselves. We’re common folk, Miss Kallahan. We believe in God, and we can worship him in a tar-paper shack if necessary. I never doubted Eli’s sincerity, but we don’t need a tabernacle to make us feel better about ourselves.”

June could hardly disagree. She believed in all the things he’d listed, but there was nothing wrong with building a monument to God. Reverend Inman was a man pure of heart. His tabernacle would be a glory to God, not a hindrance to his Word.

“The tabernacle will be a place set apart, a place where people from far and wide will come to worship.”

“A place Isaac builds in his wife’s memory—worse yet, as a tribute to himself.”

“The building is a tribute to God,” she retorted, irritated that he would have such thoughts. He simply didn’t understand what Reverend Inman was trying to do. “It’s saying we love God enough to build a special place in which to worship him.”

“The Bible says we’re to worship God in spirit and in truth. Nothing is said about a fine building being a requirement.”

“I cannot believe you are saying this—wasn’t Eli your friend?”

Parker leaned toward her, spearing her with a sharpened gaze. “Eli’s gone. The matter no longer concerns you. You’re entitled to your opinion, but you’re not entitled to mine. Go home, Miss Kallahan. There’s nothing here for you any longer.”

Until this very moment she hadn’t considered what she would do, but now the answer was abundantly clear. “I plan to stay on and continue Eli’s work with Reverend Inman.”

Bracing his broad hands on the tabletop, he leaned in closer, his voice low. “Go home.”

“I’m staying on.” June raised her chin a notch and met his fixed gaze. “I’m going to help the reverend raise the funds to build the tabernacle.”

Parker looked at her for a long moment, then turned on his heel and strode out of the building, anger clear in the set of his shoulders. The door slammed behind him, rattling dishes.

Sinking to the bench, June released the pent-up breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. No one needed to tell her the battle lines were drawn. She would rather have Parker Sentell as a friend than a foe, but even his boorish and decidedly rude manner wouldn’t stop her.

God had a purpose for her in Seattle. She’d thought it was to marry Eli and help in his ministry. With Eli gone, she must wait and pray for God to reveal his will. Meanwhile, she would assist Reverend Inman. . . .

Her eyes followed Parker Sentell’s angry gait, watching him march toward his office.

. . . And avoid Parker Sentell whenever possible.

Eli was dead. Parker’s hands shook as he jerked the knot on his tie free and started again.

In a few hours he would bury his best friend. Grief washed over him, so forceful he nearly dropped to his knees. Why, God? his soul cried. Why Eli? Parker bit back bitter tears. Why would you take Eli when he worked so diligently for your Kingdom? Parker might not have approved of Eli’s goals, but he loved Eli like a brother.

Taking a deep breath, he forced his thoughts to Eli’s bride. June Kallahan. What should he do with her? She wasn’t his responsibility, yet Eli would expect him to look after her welfare. He swallowed around the tight lump crowding his throat. Blast Eli for being so idealistic! What man assumed he could just send for a bride and eternal bliss would reign? Didn’t he know that wasn’t the way love worked? A man and a woman needed feelings—strong feelings you couldn’t buy as a result of an ad in a journal. What was Eli thinking? He jerked the tie and started over.

His angry thoughts tumbled over each other. Working himself to death to serve Isaac Inman—going from dawn to dusk in an effort to build that temple that was Isaac’s obsession, not necessarily God’s will.

Parker had never approved of the tabernacle, and he never would. And he didn’t approve of Isaac Inman. Some said he was wrong about Isaac, that the evangelist was a true man of God. But Parker saw little indication of that. He saw a man consumed by his own wants. As far as he was concerned, Isaac should have stuck to his traveling crusade and should not be trying to force his dreams of grandeur off on Seattle. Folks here didn’t need his kind. He’d made that clear to Eli, but Eli never argued. He just smiled that good-natured smile and asked Parker to pray about it. Parker had given up trying to talk sense into him. Eli’s mind was bent on helping build that temple, and nothing Parker said changed it.

Well, where is endless bliss now, Eli? And what do you expect me to do with the woman you ordered?

The harsh thought faded as the crushing loss closed around him. What would he do without Eli’s friendship to brighten the long days? How he would miss his friend’s smile and his sense of goodness. The times they’d spent in prayer and fellowship. He blinked, clearing the mositure now clouding his view.

What would God have him to do about Miss Kallahan? She looked as delicate as an orchid, a citified woman, all sweet and helpless.

He frowned at his reflection in the mirror. She wouldn’t have lasted more than six months in these wilds—a year at best. And he’d bet she would be gone before the first shovelful of dirt hit Eli’s casket.

Somehow the thought made him feel better.

Yes, June Kallahan would return to Michigan or Minnesota or whatever “M” state she was from, and he wouldn’t have to worry about her. Out of every tragedy emerges a purpose—isn’t that what his mother contended? Who knows? Maybe Eli’s death would even cause Isaac to reappraise his objective, and Parker would be rid of two nuisances—June Kallahan and Isaac Inman.

Closing his eyes, he said softly, “The marriage might have worked, Eli, but your new bride seemed a little bossy to me.”

The morning of Eli’s funeral dawned cool, the sun hidden behind clouds just as death hid Eli’s light from the world. How appropriate, June thought, considering the sadness of those who knew and loved the young, aspiring pastor. Everyone June met said how they’d cherished his warmth, his genuine concern, his love of God. Many said that with his passing it was as if a part of them had been taken with him.

For herself, she was determined to dwell on the knowledge that Eli was today with God. His pain was gone, his hope in eternal life realized. She smiled to herself, thinking of the day she would see Eli again and walk with him in that perfect place made for all who belong to God. Keeping her thoughts centered made the day ahead bearable.

She busied herself with preparations for the ceremony. Today, more than ever, she thought about those she loved. Aunt Thalia kept coming to mind, and Papa. What would Papa think of this misadventure? Would he think the building of a tabernacle a worthy cause? She wasn’t sure he would. Papa had the soul of a humble man, and any sort of venture that might be deemed “glorious,” as Reverend Inman was wont to describe his vision of the tabernacle, would immediately be suspect as a prideful idea. But Papa would look at the motivation behind the desire for the tabernacle. Was it truly for God’s glory? Then, likely, Papa would approve. Certainly Eli’s motives had been pure.

Today, more than she usually allowed herself, she missed Faith and Hope. Beautiful Hope, in Kentucky; tomboy Faith, in Texas. How were each of her sisters faring? It would take so long for letters to reach her.

Sometimes she worried about whether her sisters were safe and happy, but then, the Kallahan girls had always relied on God to take care of them. She had no less faith that he would continue to do so.

Quick on the heels of that thought came the wish that she herself would one day find the man God intended for her. She was awash with sadness when she thought of Eli, lying so still and pale in a simple pine box in the large crusade tent. All day long, friends and mourners filed past, laying floral tributes and simple tokens of love at the base of the casket.

Eli no longer occupied his earthly body; she knew that. Eli sat at the feet of God, and she was heartened in the knowledge. As the time for the funeral approached, the tent began to fill. Eyes reddened, heads bowed, and voices turned to reverent whispers.

June sat on the front pew beside Reverend Inman and Parker Sentell. When she glanced at Parker, she saw his jaw working with emotion, but his eyes remained dry. She smothered the urge to lean closer and comfort him.

Every seat in the tent was filled by the time Reverend Inman rose to address the mourners. As his gaze moved across the gathering, he conveyed a private message of comfort to each one. Without looking at the Bible, he began speaking.

“We are gathered today to pay tribute to a dear friend. Eli was not just a good friend, a beloved husband-to-be, a community spiritual leader, a brother in Christ. Eli was so much more.” The reverend’s eyes softened. “To me, he was the son I never had. To his intended bride, he was the hope of a shining future. To others, he was a confidant, a safe harbor from life’s storms. We will miss him deeply.

“Some will ask, why? Why would a man so young, living his life so purposefully, be called home when his work had barely begun? We do not know why. God’s timetable is not our timetable. Shall we wring our hands and weep for understanding, or will we join hands and rejoice in the knowledge that Eli’s work here on earth has been fulfilled?”

As Reverend Inman went on to relay touching stories of Eli’s ministry, June was painfully aware of Parker’s grief. He remained dry eyed, but she knew it was an act of will. People had told her Parker had never supported Eli’s work. He came on Sunday to hear him preach on occasion. No doubt to Parker, Eli was a loyal friend who had been plucked from Parker’s life too soon, and he saw no purpose or meaning in such a loss.

June’s thoughts returned to Reverend Inman’s compelling voice.

“Together we will carry on Eli’s dream, the dream he so fervently shared with me. We will build the tabernacle. With God’s help, we will erect this monument.” Isaac wiped his eyes, then continued. “Shall we worry how we’ll carry on? No, Eli would say no. Far more important, God says no. ‘Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee: because he trusteth in thee,’ it says in Isaiah 26:3. Jesus admonishes us not to let our hearts be troubled or afraid. That implies we have a choice in the matter. ‘These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world,’ John 16:33.

“Eli Messenger was a gifted man, a man who asked for little here on earth, but a man who is rich beyond measure in the treasure he has laid up for himself in heaven. He was a man who asked little for himself but asked much of himself. He offered cool water to the thirsty, comfort to the sorrowing, hope to the hopeless. Friends, ‘let not your hearts be troubled,’” Reverend Inman repeated softly. “Together we toil on. Together we will plant seeds and reap the harvest. ‘I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me,’ Philippians 4:13.”

Tears rolled down his cheeks now. “Brother Eli sits at the feet of God today. He is feasting at the table of the Lord. And he is hearing God say, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant.’”

Bowing his head, he prayed. “Father, let our tears be of joy rather than of frustration. Let us move on, glorifying your name, building your Kingdom. For the days allotted us here upon earth are precious and few.”

Lifting his hand, he intoned, “Now, may the peace of God which passeth all understanding keep our hearts and minds through Jesus Christ. Amen, and amen.”

June lowered her eyes as mourners rose and began to file silently past Eli’s casket. Reverend Inman had requested that Eli be buried in a peaceful valley on the grounds where the tabernacle would be erected. In his words, “Eli will still be a part of the dream.”

Later, June stood with the other mourners as the pine box was slowly lowered into a gaping hole in the muddy ground. When she saw tears unabashedly rolling down Parker’s cheeks, she leaned closer, pressing a clean handkerchief into his right hand. He took it, refusing to meet her eyes. Her heart ached for his pain.

“Dust to dust,” Reverend Inman intoned softly. “We are all but dust. Brother Eli, you will be sorely missed, but by your devotion you have given us a measure to live up to; by your faith you have given us a light, and by your faithfulness you have given us courage and a greater conviction toward the work we have yet to accomplish.”

June wept openly, feeling more than ever that she was called to be a part of something miraculous. Something destined to be a lasting tribute to God, to Eli and Reverend Inman, and, yes, even to Papa, for generations to come.

At the moment, she asked for no more.