Bernie rose after the closing benediction and turned toward the aisle. His heart felt burdened by the minister’s impassioned plea for the parishioners to pray for the people in Europe caught up in war. Here in his cocoon of security, Bernie admitted to giving little thought to the horror raging overseas. While he moved toward the double doors leading to the street, a man brushed against him, nearly knocking his Bible from his grip.
“Sorry about that,” the man said.
Bernie grinned. “No problem.” He slipped the Bible into his jacket pocket and glanced around. “Crowded today—hard to walk without bumpin’ each other.”
The man nodded. “Holiday Sundays always bring in a lot of visitors.”
Bernie agreed. He wished those who flooded the pews at Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter would make church attendance an every-Sunday event. He couldn’t imagine getting through the week without the nourishment his soul received each Lord’s day. As he stepped from the warmth of the sanctuary into a blustery Sunday noon, his gaze roved across the small groups of people chatting together. Although he glimpsed many cheerful faces, he also noted somber ones. He passed between groups, overhearing snatches of conversation, and realized many of the sober expressions accompanied comments about the war. Bernie blew out a little breath of relief. Apparently he wouldn’t be the only one praying for peace in Europe.
He stepped from the crowds and turned his feet toward home, but then a female voice—a familiar female voice—called his name and stopped him in his tracks. He whirled around to see Helen, with the younger Wolfe siblings on her heels, scurrying toward him. She wore the same blue suit she’d worn on Thanksgiving Day, but a cream-colored hat with blue feathers and red beads sat at a jaunty angle over her curls. Bernie gulped. Had any woman ever been as appealing as Helen Wolfe?
She reached his side, and the fervency in her blue eyes nearly stilled his heart. “Oh Bernie, thank goodness we caught you.”
Bernie whisked a glance over each of their faces. Rosy cheeks and bright red noses let him know they’d waited in the cold for quite a while. “Is something wrong?”
“I needed to speak with you.” She curled her hand through his elbow and turned to her brothers and sister. “Wait right here. I’ll be back in a minute.” Then she guided Bernie a few feet away to the curb, where she released his arm and clasped her gloved hands in front of her. “Bernie, you’re a praying man, and I need to ask you a favor.”
Bernie’s heart swelled. She’d just paid him the biggest compliment ever. Whatever favor she needed, he was ready.
“Remember Richard Mason? He came over Thanksgiving evening as you were leaving.”
Bernie stifled a growl. He gave a brusque nod.
“Well…” Suddenly Helen turned shy, angling her gaze away from him. “He’s asked to begin seeing me again—courting me. But I’m very confused about whether or not to allow it. You see, he… he…” She didn’t directly meet his gaze, but her eyes fluttered in his direction. “He broke off our engagement when I refused to send Henry, Carl, and Lois to an orphans’ home. He didn’t want the responsibility of seeing to their needs.”
“Is that so?” Bernie tried to rein in his contempt for a man who’d ask Helen to cast aside her siblings, but when she blanched he knew he’d failed.
“But he must have changed his mind,” she hurried on, once again looking off to the side, “because he’s back, and he’s been very kind to the children. So I was wondering if, maybe…” Very slowly she turned her face to look fully into his eyes. “Would you please pray for me to know what to do? I desperately need someone to help me support the family. If I were to marry Richard, our financial problems would be solved. He’s well established with the opera company, and he says if we’re married, he’ll secure a spot for me, too. The salary would far exceed what I make now as a hotel maid.” Her words tumbled out faster and faster, her breath forming little clouds of condensation that drifted beneath Bernie’s chin. “The children deserve security, Bernie, but I want to make the right decision. Will you pray for me?”
Bernie lifted his hands to cup her shoulders. Her tight muscles beneath the fabric of the blue suit spoke of her inner turmoil. How he wished to draw her into his embrace, to offer her comfort. But she’d only asked for prayer. A lump formed in his throat, and he swallowed before speaking. “I already pray for you, Helen. Every day I pray for you, and for Henry, Carl, and Lois.”
She blinked up at him, her pink-painted lips slightly open. “Y–you do?” Tears flooded her eyes, deepening the blue irises.
“God put you on my heart, and I’ve been praying for Him to give you peace and strength.”
One tear broke free of its perch on her thick lashes and rolled down her cheek. Gratitude glowed from her eyes.
“So now I’ll pray for God to make clear to you what you’re to do. But, Helen?” He paused, uncertainty making his pulse pound. “Be careful. Don’t be looking for a man to meet your needs. Men’ll let you down. They can’t help it—they’re human, and they fail. But God? He can’t forsake you. It’s not in His nature. So lean on Him before anything or anyone else. Trust Him to meet your needs. Will you do that?”
She swished away her tears with her fingertips. Her chin trembled. “I–I’ll try.”
He knew what effort it took for her to make the concession. He squeezed her shoulders and then let his hands fall away. “It’s cold out here, and you need to get the youngsters on home. You ridin’ the trolley?”
“We never ride the trolley.”
Bernie understood. He reached into his pocket and withdrew two quarters. “Then take this—get a taxicab.”
She stared at the coins. “Oh, but…”
He grasped her wrist and pressed the coins into her palm. “For me, Helen, so I don’t hafta worry about Lois catching a cold. Please?”
With a deep sigh, she closed her fingers over the silver disks. “Thank you, Bernie. You’re a very kind man.” She gestured to the children, and they dashed to her side. Curling her arm around Lois’s shoulders, she offered Bernie a quavering smile. “Thank you for your prayers, Bernie. I promise, I’ll be listening for God’s voice.”
Over the next week, Helen honored her promise to Bernie. As she cleaned hotel rooms, she kept her heart tuned to guidance concerning continuing the job or taking up singing in the opera company with Richard. While she saw to the children’s needs, she searched her mind’s eye for images of someone stepping in beside her to help her parent her siblings. When she lay in bed at night, she petitioned God to give her the peace and strength Bernie had mentioned. And, although her circumstances didn’t change, she discovered she slept more soundly and felt less burdened than she had before. Could that mean God was answering her prayers? Her heart fluttered with hope that maybe, just maybe, God was near.
Richard began the habit of visiting each evening. He always brought gifts—frivolous items like lace handkerchiefs for Lois or chocolate bars for the boys. Helen tried to be grateful, but she wondered why he’d ceased leaving items they could really use, the way he’d done before. With each visit, she tried to envision him as a permanent fixture in their lives. He was willing to accept her and the children—he’d said so—but somehow she couldn’t get comfortable with the idea. So although he pressured her continually to set a wedding date—“And make it soon, darling,” he’d whispered into her ear—she hesitated. Only when she knew for certain Richard was the helpmate God wanted for her would she give her answer.
Sunday morning, December seventh, bloomed like many other December days. Cold, crisp, with snowflakes dancing on a stout breeze. Helen held a steaming mug of coffee between her palms and looked out at the gray morning. Both Carl and Lois had the sniffles, so although she hated to skip church services, she chose to let them sleep. Henry was dressing, however, unwilling to miss attending church. He’d stated firmly he could go on his own.
Her heart swelled, thinking of the fine young man her brother was becoming—responsible, caring, mature beyond his years. And much of the change she’d seen in the past months was the result of Bernie O’Day’s influence. Henry quoted Bernie, emulated Bernie, and respected him as a mentor. Henry didn’t have a father anymore, but he had Bernie, and Bernie filled the hole their father’s passing had left in Henry’s boyish heart. What a kind, good man is Bernie O’Day. A flutter in her chest accompanied the thought.
“Sis?” Henry bustled into the room, interrupting Helen’s musing. “Want me to stop at that hamburger stand and pick up some burgers for our dinner? They’ll be yesterday’s leftovers, so only a nickel apiece.”
Both Lois and Carl loved the greasy sandwiches with ground beef and grilled onions. They might be enticed to eat if offered such a treat. Although Helen had little money to spare, she retrieved her purse and gave Henry two dimes to purchase burgers. Then, as if something—or Someone—encouraged her fingers, she plucked out one more dime and dropped it into Henry’s waiting palm. “Put that in the offering plate.”
Henry beamed in approval. He dashed out the door, his knitted cap tugged low over his ears.
The house quiet, Helen curled on the sofa with her coffee and her Bible. If she couldn’t attend service, she could at least read from God’s Word. She flipped pages, scanning passages, and finally settled on one of the letters to the Corinthian churches. Nestled in the corner of the sofa, she read, content. When she reached the thirteenth chapter of First Corinthians, her reading slowed, her finger underlining the words describing God’s idea for love.
Without conscious thought, she began to read aloud. “'Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Charity never faileth….'” She closed the Bible, the final line replaying in her thoughts. Charity—love—never fails.
An image of the engraved coin she’d sold to Bernie O’Day flashed before her mind’s eye. Slipping to her knees, she clasped her hands and offered a heartfelt prayer: “God, Bernie told me Your love never fails or forsakes. I want so much to believe You’ll always be there and You’ll meet the needs of my brothers, sister, and me. Bernie is praying for my strength to find You. I’m seeking You. Will You please make Yourself known to me? Make Yourself known to me in a way I cannot misunderstand, because I need You, God. I need You….” Her last sentence choked out on a sob.
She pushed to her feet just as the front door burst open and Henry charged into the room. He dropped a grease-stained brown paper bag as he raced to her and took her hands in his icy grasp. “Helen! The burger man said there’s a rumor that Japan attacked the United States!”