Chapter 19
A Talk Afterward

It’s a good thing dinner was mostly over when Pa told everyone about Katie Morgan, because after that it was quiet with the sounds mostly of forks scratching around on plates and chewing and passing plates around. Pa squirmed in his seat a little. His sudden announcement threw a bucket of cold water on what had been a pretty lively and fun talk around the table.

Miss Stansberry and Rev. Rutledge kept on talking, but mostly about her coming and what she thought California was like and how the school was getting along. She asked him about the church, and they laughed over things having to do with sharing the building for their two “ministries,” as they called them.

Alkali Jones tried to get Pa talking about mining again, but without any success. Then he turned to Uncle Nick and was talking away to him, but I got the feeling Uncle Nick was trying to listen across Mr. Jones to what Miss Stansberry was saying, so he was involved in both conversations at once. Neither Pa or Mrs. Parrish said much of anything, so the rest of the meal was a little strange.

I was sitting next to Pa. Finally I asked him, quietly—because I just wanted to know for myself—when Miss Morgan was coming. I guess everyone heard me, because they all turned to listen to Pa’s answer.

“April, Corrie, or May,” he said, “or whenever she can get passage on a ship. Folks are pouring west now, and I reckon sometimes they’re filled up.”

That loosened Pa up some, just getting his tongue working again, and gradually the talk started to flow better as we got up from the table. The men went over by the fire and lit up their pipes, the women—including Becky and Emily and me—started clearing off the things from the table. But no one asked Pa the question I wanted so badly to ask: When was he planning to marry Miss Morgan?

“We’ll clear up some of these things,” Mrs. Parrish announced, “and give your stomachs a chance to rest, and then put out the pies!”

“Now you’re talkin’! Hee, hee!” laughed Alkali Jones, and other enthusiastic comments followed.

I looked around at the men standing by the fire filling their pipes and talking, and at us kids and Miss Stansberry and Mrs. Parrish in the kitchen putting the food away and stacking the plates to take outside to wash. Listening to all the sounds and voices, I thought to myself that it had turned out to be a right fine Christmas after all. I was worried there at the table for a few minutes when it got quiet, and I couldn’t help thinking about all the trouble a year earlier. But now everyone’s good spirits were back.

A few minutes later, while I was taking the leftover chicken off the bones so we’d be able to divide it up for everyone to take home, I realized Mrs. Parrish wasn’t in the cabin. At first I figured maybe she’d gone out to the outhouse or to take some dishes to the pump-sink outside, but when she was still gone ten minutes later I thought I’d go see.

By then Miss Stansberry had Becky and Emily organized into a cleaning troop between the table and the stove, and the three of them were chattering away. Mr. Stansberry was showing Tad his whittling knife. Zack was with Pa and Uncle Nick and the minister and Alkali Jones. So I figured nobody’d miss me for a few minutes. I cleaned the grease off my fingers, wiped them off with a towel, and went outside.

It was a sunshiny day, but cold. I could see my breath in the air. I glanced around. Mrs. Parrish wasn’t at the pump, and I was already getting chilly. So I went back inside, got on my coat, and came back into the fresh, clean air that felt so good against my face—especially with a full stomach!

I looked up and down the creek as I started walking. At first I didn’t know where to go, but then I saw Mrs. Parrish. She was about halfway up toward the mine, leaning against one of the big man-size rocks the creek worked its way around. I walked toward her, not really knowing what I was going to say. Then it suddenly dawned on me that she must have come out here to be alone.

Embarrassed, I started to back away, but it was too late. She’d heard me and turned her head around.

“Corrie,” she said, smiling. “You found me!”

“I didn’t mean to bother you, ma’am, I just didn’t see you and got to wondering if—”

“Oh, think nothing of it, Corrie,” she said. “I’ve had plenty of time alone with my thoughts. I’m sure the Lord knew some pleasant company was just what I needed.”

I didn’t say anything.

“It’s been a wonderful Christmas, hasn’t it, Corrie?” she said brightly.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Just the kind of day to remind us of the Lord’s coming to earth.” She paused a second, then added, “How are you finding this Christmas for you, Corrie—after a year here, a year with your father, a year thinking more personally about God’s life with us?”

No one would ever accuse Mrs. Parrish of beating around the bush when she had something to say! But my thoughts were still of Christmas and pies, and I wasn’t very quick about an answer.

“I don’t know, ma’am, I guess I hadn’t been thinking just now about it.”

“I’m sorry,” she laughed. “I suppose I always get more pensive on Christmas day than most people. But I always try to slip away by myself at least twice on days like this, especially Christmas, just to keep myself from being so caught up in the hubbub and the conversation and the food and the merrymaking going on around me, to remind myself of what it’s really about—that Jesus came to live among us, and to help us be like Him.”

“I thought of all that this morning,” I said. “I got up early and prayed some—and, of course, when Pa read the Christmas story. I guess I had forgotten about it for most of the day.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the merrymaking,” she said. “Christmas is a festive time, a time to be happy with family and friends. But as I said, I like to remind myself about its true meaning as often as I’m able. Your Pa’s voice had a real nice sound to it when he read,” she added, bringing Pa up without even a pause. “It must make you happy to have him working to be a good father and family man.”

“Yes, ma’am, I reckon,” I said. She must have heard the hesitation in my voice.

“You sound a little doubtful, Corrie,” she said, looking at me steadily. I didn’t say anything right off, and she gave me time to think out my answer.

“I’m pleased enough about Pa,” I said finally. “You know that, ma’am. You know I think he’s a fine man, and I’m just proud as I can be. Him inviting all you folks here today was such a wonderful thing for him to do! But, I don’t know, ma’am, it’s just that him getting married again—well, that’s a turn of events that’s kinda hard to take hold of.”

“Ah, yes . . . I know what you mean,” she replied with a kind of half smile that seemed to hold back more than it said. “I must admit it took me by surprise, too.”

“Do you think he ought to marry again, ma’am?” I asked.

“Oh, Corrie!” she answered with a laugh that sounded a little jittery. “That is hardly a question that it seems I have any right to consider. What your father does is his business, after all.”

“You’re like part of our family, Mrs. Parrish,” I said.

“That’s kind of you to say, Corrie.” She put her hand on mine and smiled.

“It’s true, ma’am, and so I think that gives you the right to say what you think.”

“Of course, I have tried to do my best for you children—”

“And you have, ma’am!” I said. “You’ve been just—just like—you’ve been better for all of us than we deserved!”

Before the words were out of my mouth, I was crying, though I didn’t know why. Her hand, still on mine, gave me a squeeze.

“And it just doesn’t seem right somehow,” I went on, but now the words were getting all jumbled in my thoughts, “for Pa to bring somebody here we don’t even know to take care of us. We don’t need anybody else! We’re doing just fine the way it is, with all of us and Pa and—and you, ma’am, and I just don’t see why—”

I couldn’t finish, because I was sobbing pretty hard by now.

For a long time Mrs. Parrish just let me cry, stroking my head with one hand while the other held mine.

When she finally did speak again, her voice was so tender, it reminded me of Ma comforting me when I was little.

“There’s an old saying, Corrie,” she said softly, “that wives have to learn and have been repeating to themselves for years. And until they learn it, life can be downright miserable for them if they’re going to try to understand everything their man does.”

She paused and looked away. I hadn’t seen that far-off gaze in her face for a long time. The few times I had seen it, it always reminded me of someone thinking about something that happened a long time ago. I didn’t know if Mrs. Parrish was thinking about her husband or about something else, but her words seemed to be coming out of something that had happened to show her what an important lesson it was to learn.

“And this is how folks put it, Corrie,” she finally said, turning back toward me. “Sometimes men have just got to do what their hearts are telling them to do. Half the time to the women in their life—whether it’s a wife, a sweetheart, a friend, or, like you, a daughter—it doesn’t seem to make sense, but once a man feels that he’s got to do something, he has to do it or he’ll never be able to live with himself afterward.”

“But what if it’s something he doesn’t need to do?” I insisted. “Like with this Miss Morgan coming? We don’t need any help! Pa’s a good pa and we’re getting old enough to take care of ourselves.”

“I think I understand a little how you feel, Corrie. But once a man’s set on something, whether it makes sense or not, or even whether it’s right or not, he’s got to go ahead with it for his own sake. If he’s wrong, well, that’s something he has to find out for himself, and no amount of female persuasion is usually going to make any difference.

“And, Corrie, who’s to say your father is wrong? I’ve never been a father—I’ve never even been a parent. And though I love you and the others like you were my own, the fact is that I can’t really know what it’s like for your pa inside, feeling the responsibility of caring for a family without a wife, with all the troubles he’s had following him around. It must be a terrible burden for him sometimes. And I do know this, that he wouldn’t be doing this if he didn’t feel it was the right thing to do for all of you.”

“Well, if he’s gotta find a new wife—” I began, my tears starting up again.

I was arguing with myself, though I didn’t really realize that till I thought about it later. Ever since Pa’d read us Miss Morgan’s letter I’d been all mixed up inside about it, and now all at once everything I’d been thinking was coming out at Mrs. Parrish. “If he’s gotta find a new wife, then what’s wrong with somebody around here we know? Why couldn’t he get someone like the widow Jackson that lives over by Fern lake? She’s nice and comes to church and is always nice to us kids. Or why couldn’t he—why couldn’t he marry somebody—somebody like you!”

I started sobbing again as the words I hadn’t planned burst out.

Mrs. Parrish looked sharply away. Through my own tears I saw her turn her head. My first thought was that I’d hurt her by what I said, and anytime you can get your mind thinking of somebody else, even if just for a second, you forget your own troubles.

“I’m—I’m sorry, Mrs. Parrish,” I said. “I didn’t mean to say something to upset you. I didn’t even know what I was saying!”

She turned back toward me with the tenderest smile I’d ever seen on her face. Her cheeks were a little red and her eyes were blinking a little harder than usual. Right at that moment she looked prettier than I’d ever seen her before.

“Oh, Corrie—Corrie!” she said in barely more than a whisper. “You dear, dear girl!” She drew in a deep sigh. “You haven’t hurt me, Corrie,” she said softly. “That was one of the nicest things you could ever have said! But sometimes a woman’s emotions can’t be trusted. You’ll understand that better when you get a little older. Then you’ll know what it’s like to suddenly find your eyes misting over when you don’t know why. But—what am I saying?—I guess you know about that already!” she added, laughing.

“I reckon I do.”

“I forget you’re already a woman in many ways! I apologize.”

“Now it’s my turn to say I didn’t take offense.”

She smiled. “I suppose both of us will have many new things to get used to, many adjustments to make,” said Mrs. Parrish.

“You too, ma’am?”

“Well, your father’s marrying is bound to change—change . . . the way—well, you and he won’t be coming over to my house for tea before school meetings anymore!” This last part she added hurriedly, as if she only just thought of it.

“We’ll still be friends, won’t we, Mrs. Parrish? You’ll still come and visit and talk to me about—you know, about everything?”

“Of course, Corrie! Nothing will ever change our special friendship. But Miss Morgan—I suppose I’ll have to get used to calling her the new Mrs. Hollister!—she’ll be your friend too, I’m certain of it. And she’ll want you to confide in her also.”

“But I don’t want to confide in her!” I half-shouted back, my anger and frustration coming out again. “I don’t need any one but Pa and you!”

Mrs. Parrish smiled. But she didn’t speak immediately. She seemed to be thinking. Then finally she said, “Have I told you about everything working out for good, Corrie?”

“I don’t remember exactly,” I answered. “I suppose I’ve heard you talk about it before.”

“There’s a verse in Romans, Corrie, that says everything will work out for our good in the end if we love God and are called according to His purpose. And I think perhaps we need to remember that right now with your pa marrying again.”

“But I don’t see how everything can be good?”

“It doesn’t say that everything is good. It says that in everything God is able to work out good, to make good come out of it.”

“For everybody?”

“No. For those that love God—that is, for Christians who are called according to His purpose—in other words, those whose lives are ordered by God’s ways, not their own. It means that if a Christian is trying to live by obeying God’s ways and doing what God wants, rather than living for himself, God will be able to make all things work out for good in the end. Even if something bad happens, if you are trying to live by God’s principles, not selfishly, then good will come out of it for you in the end.”

“What you’re saying, then, is that if Pa’s going to marry Miss Morgan, good will come out of it.”

“Yes, I guess that’s what I’m saying. I can’t say whether he was right or wrong to write her and ask her to come to California. I only know that for you and me—if we are faithful to live as Christians by God’s principles—it will work out for good in the end. We don’t need to worry about your Pa, except to pray for him. All we need remember is to obey God, and then we can trust good to be the ultimate result.”

Both of us were quiet for a spell.

“I guess you’re right,” I finally sighed. “But it’s hard to trust God when things look like they’re going in a way you don’t want them to go.”

“Remember the fog in front of San Francisco, Corrie? Many times we can’t see what God sees. He may be doing things we have no idea of. He can see a lot further ahead than we can.”

I smiled up at her. “I know you’re right. But it’s hard to grab hold of the kinds of things you say sometimes.”

“It takes time to get some of these lessons deep enough into your heart that you can start living them. And hurts and pains are a required part of the learning too. Nothing much worth learning comes without pain. Maybe now God’s giving you a chance to feel some anxious thoughts so you can grow a little closer to Him by trusting Him to work out what’s best.”

“I hope that’s it,” I said.

“But don’t you think we’ve been away long enough? They’re going to think we skipped out to leave all the cleaning up for them!”

Mrs. Parrish took a step or two away from the rock, then reached her arms high above her head and took in a deep breath of the cold Christmas air.

“Oh, Corrie!” she said, “It’s so wonderful here! This is the day of all days to remember that we needn’t fear for what lies ahead. You have a home, a family, this beautiful place, and a loving Father in heaven watching over your every need!”

She turned back toward me and embraced me warmly. We held each other tight for a moment, then stepped back. Tears sprang to our eyes again, but neither of us said anything.

Then she took my hand and we began walking back down the slope toward the cabin. I glanced in that direction just in time to see Pa, who’d been standing on the porch, turn and go back inside. I wondered if he had been watching us. But I don’t think Mrs. Parrish saw him.

“I think it’s time we spread out those pies!” she said. “Knowing how men are, your pa will probably already be hungry again!”