Chapter 15

When Angus showed remarkable improvement the next day, Mother declared that God had heard their prayers and lifted His curse on the Knox family. Emmalyne was glad Angus was better, but she was less than convinced that a curse had been lifted. When Reverend Campbell came by once again, Emmalyne couldn’t help but question him as she walked with him back to his carriage.

“Does God put curses on His children?”

The pastor looked at her for a long moment. “Why do you ask such a thing?”

“My mother believes our family was cursed because of things she did wrong in the past. I thought, however, that God was forgiving and that if we asked Him, He would forgive our sins and cast them as far as the east is from the west.”

“That is true.”

“But God also punishes,” Emmalyne continued. “The Bible shows examples of God’s punishment. When the Israelites sinned and built idols, for example.”

“Yes, those events did happen,” the reverend replied. “But you forget another very important event.” The man smiled at Emmalyne. “Calvary. Jesus took on the curses and sins and wrath of God against all evil at Calvary. As God’s children we might endure discipline, but surely not God’s wrath. Jesus paid the price for that already.”

“So my mother’s belief that her sins—and I would question that they are truly sins—have brought curses upon our family would be false.”

“In my understanding of God’s Word, yes.” The man grew thoughtful. “There are, of course, consequences for sin, and often people equate this with God’s punishment. Or curse, if you will.”

“And how does that differ?” Emmalyne asked. “Suffering is suffering. If the innocent suffer for the sins of others, how is that something the Lord allows?”

“Ah, the theological dichotomy of why bad things are permitted to happen to good people.”

They were stopped alongside the buggy by now. Emmalyne folded her arms. “Why does God allow it?” She thought of Fenella and the loss of her husband and the subsequent loss of her mind. “If God loves His children as the Bible says, then why would He allow them to suffer?”

“Emmalyne, this world is far from perfect, and suffering is all around us. God in His infinite wisdom holds the world in His hands. His power over all is unequaled and without question. However, He has also allowed Satan—for a time—a certain amount of power and say-so. Would you not agree that we are challenged by Satan’s ploys on this earth?”

“I would, but I don’t understand why it must be so. I gave my heart to Jesus as a little girl. I heard the gospel message of God’s love for us, how He sent Jesus to take our place on the cross. I’ve studied the Scriptures, and I’ve done my best to live by them, even losing the love of my heart in seeking to honor my father and mother.” She paused and lowered her head in a moment of embarrassment. She wished she could take that last statement back.

“Please don’t think that I’m saying I believe myself to be perfect,” she finally continued. “I’m not.” She raised her face to meet the older man’s gaze. “I just don’t understand why my family continues to endure so many awful things. My father blames my mother for every problem—every turn of despair. Why does God allow him to do that?”

“Why does God allow it?” He smiled. “Tell me, Emmalyne, why do you allow it?”

Her brows knit together as she frowned. “How can I not? How can I honor my father and mother and not? I am not my father’s master to make demands of him.”

“That is true. But you have an intercessor, Jesus, who is your father’s master. Have you pled your case to Him? God does not call us to tolerate or accept sin. He would have us overcome sin with His love.”

Emmalyne considered the man’s words for a moment. In truth, while she had prayed that things would change, she’d never specifically prayed for God to change her father’s heart. Nor had she prayed for insight to change her own where he was concerned. “I suppose I have been remiss in my prayers. I have ranted at God to tell Him of my misery and ask that He take it away, but I suppose I’ve not truly looked to Him for answers beyond my own ease. And I’ve certainly not worried overmuch about love.”

Reverend Campbell nodded. “I would encourage you to spend time in prayer and to seek God’s heart. He will reveal to you what is to be done. He is a God of reconciliation. We need look no further than the cross to prove this.”

“Reconciliation.” Emmalyne murmured the word. “Perhaps my pain has blinded me to God’s true purpose for my life. Maybe I am to help facilitate reconciliation in my family.”

The pastor smiled and reached out to pat her hand. “Perhaps you are.”

Emmalyne thought for a long while on Reverend Campbell’s words. That afternoon she decided to approach her mother on the matter. With Angus sleeping peacefully, Emmalyne drew her mother out to the dining table and surprised her with fresh-brewed tea.

“Mother,” she began, sitting down across from her with her own cup, “I know you feel God cursed this family because you encouraged Father to run away and marry you.” Her mother started to say something, but Emmalyne held up her hand. “Please, just hear me out.” Mother nodded and took a sip of tea.

Emmalyne thought for a moment. “I don’t think it has been God’s punishment, so much as the consequences that naturally befall us when we make any number of choices.” She fiddled with her teacup.

“I was speaking with Reverend Campbell, and he said that God’s wrath toward us was paid out at the cross. He said that when we are reconciled with God through Jesus, His wrath against our sins is no longer on us. Jesus took on our sins, and we are made clean by His sacrifice.”

“But even so, we are not without sin. We are not perfect,” Mother interjected.

“No, we aren’t. But we are forgiven, and if we are forgiven, how can we say that we are under God’s curse?”

Emmalyne’s mother must not have been able to answer that, because she took a new tack. “Suffering is a way of life,” she said. “Jesus himself said we would have suffering—trials and troubles.”

“True,” Emmalyne replied, “but He also said that we could take heart because He had overcome this world. Mother, I think we do God a disservice to believe we are cursed by Him when we have sought to be reconciled to Him through Jesus. I do not believe this family has been cursed because you and Father fell in love and eloped. Granted, there were consequences for your actions, but the death of Father’s family wasn’t God exacting payment. There is nothing in the Bible that I can see that would support that belief.”

Mother sipped her tea quietly as Emmalyne continued to lay out her thoughts. “I am determined to see this family come together in love. I know Father is a bitter and hate-filled man, but I also know that God’s love can change that.” She looked at her mother with a feeling of growing hope. “We can pray for Father and for ourselves. We can ask God to change our hearts and Father’s, as well. Let’s watch for ways to show him that we care about him.” Mother and daughter stared at each other for a moment at this new, somewhat daunting, thought.

“I want you to be happy, Mother,” Emmalyne went on. “I want you to know peace of mind. You have not brought a curse upon this family. You are a loving woman who seeks to do God’s will. Satan is the only one who benefits by your believing otherwise.”

Her mother looked rather stunned. She said nothing for several minutes, and Emmalyne used the silent moments to pray.

God, this isn’t easy for her to hear, much less accept. Please open her heart and mind to the truth. Help us, Lord. Please help us to love one another. Help us to love Father.

The next morning Angus was sitting up on his own, and though extremely weak, he was able to feed himself. Emmalyne stood at the end of his bed and proclaimed his progress a miracle.

“We had feared losing you, but now you are restored to us . . . at least in part. I know you’ll continue to grow strong. I have prayed for it to be so.”

Angus’s pale complexion and weary expression did not deter her positive proclamations. “Before you know it, Angus, you’ll be fully recovered. God is to be praised for this.”

“I agree,” he replied, then gave way to a bout of coughing. When he finally regained control, he looked up at Emmalyne with watery eyes. “I remember you and Mother praying for me. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything like it before.”

“Hopefully you’ll hear a lot more of it in the days and months to come.” Emmalyne squared her shoulders. “I have resolved to see this family mended from the rips and tears Satan has delivered us.”

“And that we’ve delivered to each other,” Angus added.

“Aye. We are responsible for allowing Satan’s ill will and bad feelings. We must turn our hearts ever toward the light—toward God’s mercy. We need to pray for Father to find peace and to know God’s love again. He has been angry so long that he won’t even try. But if we show him love, perhaps Father will be drawn back to his heavenly Father.”

Angus shrugged. “I’m not sure any of us are very knowledgeable about loving.”

Emmalyne smiled. “Then it’s high time we learned.”

Mother entered the room with a stack of freshly washed bedding. “Emmalyne, help me get Angus from the bed to the chair so I can make his bed with fresh linens.”

“I’ll help you make the bed, as well,” Emmalyne said, coming around to the side. She pulled back the covers and reached out to take hold of her brother. “Come then, little brother.” She threw him a grin and pulled him toward her. Angus was stronger than she’d expected and, grinning back, gave her arm a yank. Emmalyne very nearly lost her balance. “Mother, I believe he might well be able to get himself to the chair.”

Angus chuckled and eased to the edge of the bed. “I wouldn’t go that far. My legs feel as though they’re no better than a rag doll’s.”

Emmalyne helped him put his arm around her neck, then eased him into a standing position. “Just take your time,” she told him. “Get your bearings, and then we can move to the chair.” She helped Angus to the rocker and gently lowered him to sit. Weeks in a sickbed had taken their toll, and she could feel his bones where before were muscles.

“Mother,” she said, “I think it might be a good idea to have some beef for supper. Angus is skin and bones, and a good hearty stew would do him well.”

“Have we the needed ingredients?” Mother asked.

“We will.” Emmalyne went to the bed and helped her mother secure the clean sheet. “There’s a beef roast in the icebox that Father procured yesterday. We can cut that up for stew. Also, Morna MacLachlan sent a note offering us some fresh produce from her garden. I thought you and I might walk over there and pay a visit. After all, we’ve been here over two months and have yet to see them.”

“I cannae leave your brother,” Mother said quickly. “But you go. I can start stewing the meat and care for Angus.”

Emmalyne considered arguing, but then changed her mind. She hadn’t wanted to go alone to the MacLachlans’; she worried that she would find herself in another difficult encounter with Tavin. But it was early in the day, so he would be working. There was no reason to think she would have to face him.

“Very well. I’ll go and bring back vegetables. I’ll take Morna some gooseberry jam and fresh rolls.”

“Aye, that would be good. Give her my best,” Mother said, shaking out Angus’s quilt. “I believe I will let this air on the line while you sit in the chair awhile.”

Angus nodded. “It feels good to be upright. I can manage this for a time. Maybe you could bring me a book to read.”

“Nae, you mustn’t yet strain your eyes. I’ll get the meat to stewing and bring a Bible to read to you,” Mother declared. “It will do us both good.”

Emmalyne couldn’t help but smile at the words. She was feeling more hopeful that the mother of her childhood would return yet again.

On her walk to the MacLachlans’, Emmalyne pondered how she might help to change her father. She knew that she couldn’t change him herself, but she prayed that God might. Father had been very quiet of late. She knew he’d been fraught with worry over Angus’s sickness, yet even this hadn’t brought him to words of kindness or love.

He’s not just angry and bitter; he’s like a crippled man. He can only limp from task to task, reeling from the pain. Yet he has no choice but to keep moving. Emmalyne looked up at the bright sky. Haven’t I felt that way myself?

She thought on this for a while. The day was hot and humid, and sweat trickled down the middle of Emmalyne’s back, but still her mind stayed fixed on her father and what she could do. When she looked into her own heart, she found little love for the man. It troubled her to face that truth.

“O Father God,” she said, looking to the canopy of trees over the narrow lane, “teach me to love him.”

You can begin by doing and saying loving things. The words were so clear, Emmalyne stopped dead in her tracks and looked around her. Soon another powerful statement filled her mind: Love is not an emotion but an act.

She moved slowly to the side of the road and sat down on a stone. “Thank you, Father, for loving me,” she whispered through the tears brimming in her eyes. “Thank you for showing me how to love Father—even when he doesn’t deserve it. None of us deserved your love, yet you have still given it freely.” She wiped her eyes. It seemed so simple, yet Emmalyne knew it to be quite difficult to show love to those who were less than loving in return. “I will endeavor to do so, however,” she promised.

After she resumed her journey, it wasn’t much longer before she reached the end of the road and spied the MacLachlans’ two-story house. It looked to be in much better repair than the Knox place, but that didn’t surprise her. Robert MacLachlan was not nearly so tight-handed with money as her father. But I’m going to start thinking kind, good thoughts about him rather than dwelling on the difficulties.

Emmalyne shifted the basket she’d brought and knocked on the screen door.

A young boy came running full speed, halting just short of the screen. “Hello! Who are you?”

“I’m Emmalyne,” she replied, beaming a smile at him. “Who are you?”

“I’m Gunnar, an’ I’m four,” he told her, his little blond head bobbing from side to side.

“Gunnar, who are you talking to?” Morna came to the door with another blond-haired boy on her hip. “Emmalyne! Oh, bless my soul.” She opened the door and extended her free arm to hug Emmalyne close. “I can scarce believe you’re here.”

“I’m sorry it’s taken so long.” Emmalyne relished the embrace. This woman had been like a second mother to her, and they had shared a great many things in the past. Even now, it felt as if those eleven years of separation had simply vanished.

“Come in, child. Come in and tell me about your family.” She released her hold as the baby began to protest. Morna laughed. “This is Lethan, and he doesn’t hesitate to let his will be known.”

Emmalyne laughed. “I am pleased to meet you handsome boys.”

“Where do you come from?” Gunnar asked.

Morna led the way into the sitting room. “She comes from just down the road, Gunnar. Now, why don’t you play with your brother while Emmalyne and I have a wee visit.”

“I wanna visit, too,” Gunnar said, coming to Emmalyne’s side. “What’s in the basket?”

“I brought you some jam and fresh rolls. Maybe your grandmother will let you have some.”

Gunnar looked to Morna in expectation. “Can I?”

“Certainly.” She turned to Emmalyne. “Will you stay for lunch?”

“I really shouldn’t today. I came with more than just the visit in mind.” She chuckled. “I had hoped to take you up on the offer of garden vegetables. I’m happy to pick my own if you—”

“Oh, goodness no,” Morna answered quickly. “I have the entire back porch full of produce. We’ve been picking and eating and canning as fast as we can. I’m weary to the bone trying to keep up. ’Tis why I hinnae been to visit. Oh, and you must think me such a bad friend.”

“Not at all. I know you have more than enough to tend to with the measles and all. Dr. Williams told me about Fenella.” Emmalyne bit her lower lip, hoping she’d not said too much.

“Aye. She’s not the lass you remember.” Morna looked at the boys and smiled. “These are her sons, but they scarce know her.”

Gunnar lost interest in the new visitor and went to the corner of the room, where he began to play. Seeing this, Lethan wanted down to join his brother. Morna placed the boy on his feet and chuckled as he ran across the floor. “They are growing up so fast,” she said with a shake of her head.

“They are handsome lads. Gunnar looks quite like his mother.”

“Aye.” Morna motioned to the settee. “Please, sit.” She pulled up a small chair for herself.

“Mother sends her love. She’s got her hands full with Angus’s recovery.”

“Tavin told me he was ill.” She pressed her lips together, looking stricken.

Emmalyne tried to ease her discomfort. “Yes, thank the good Lord Tavin was able to bring Angus home. He was very sick. Measles and then pneumonia. He’s doing much better now.”

“I’m so glad,” Morna said, seeming to relax. “We prayed for him at church. Reverend Campbell said he’s been to see you a couple of times.”

“Aye,” Emmalyne replied. “It was so nice to see him again.”

“Lethan, no!” Gunnar shouted, but too late. Lethan knocked over the towering block structure.

“Grandma, Lethan’s being bad.” Gunnar stood with arms crossed, his lower lip quivering as if he might break into tears.

Morna quickly interceded. “Gunnar, he’s just trying to play with you. Show him how to stack the blocks again. In time, he’ll learn.”

From the expression on his face, Gunnar wasn’t really satisfied with this explanation. “It’s gonna take a long time to build it,” he muttered and began to pick through the blocks again. Emmalyne heard him admonish the younger boy to be good and couldn’t help but smile.

“With Fenella unable to care for them and needin’ so much attention herself,” Morna said, her voice low, “it’s a wonder I get anything done.”

“I’m sure they keep you very busy, Morna. May I see Fenella?” Emmalyne asked. “I know her condition is not good, but . . . well . . . she was such a dear friend.”

“Of course you may see her.” Morna shook her head. “But donnae expect much. She probably wiltnae ken who you are.”

Emmalyne nodded. “I understand.”

“Boys, you play here for a minute while I take Emmalyne to say hello to your mither.”

Gunnar looked up. “My mama is sick.”

“Aye, but you be a big boy and watch Lethan here while I go check on her.”

The boy nodded in a most sober fashion, his expression quite unusual for a child. But Emmalyne supposed he’d had to endure a great deal.

She followed Morna upstairs and down the hall. At the end, Morna took out a key and unlocked the bedroom door. “She can be harmful to herself and to the boys, so we have to keep the door locked.”

The room was quite warm. Emmalyne couldn’t understand why the windows weren’t open. Morna seemed to read her mind.

“I usually try to move Fenella elsewhere during the heat of the day. We had to nail the windows closed lest she climb out and harm herself.”

Thinking on this, Emmalyne stepped into the room and immediately saw the wild-haired, glassy-eyed woman who only vaguely resembled her old friend. Fenella looked up from where she sat on the floor pulling threads from her skirt. She looked at Emmalyne for several seconds, then let out a shriek. Emmalyne jumped at the shocking noise.

“She does that whenever we come into the room,” Morna explained. “I told the boys it was her way of saying hello.” The older woman looked so sad. “She’s so lost within herself.”

Emmalyne stepped closer, then crouched down. “Fenella? It’s me, Emmy. Remember?”

Fenella looked at her but said nothing. She stared blankly for several silent moments, then turned her attention back to the threads. Emmalyne longed to reach out to her friend, but she didn’t know how to start. Standing, she looked back to Morna.

“Is there no hope she’ll come back to us?”

Morna shook her head. “Very little. We’ve taken her to a great many doctors, and they all say the same thing: Losing her husband caused her mind to . . . well, to break. And they know of no way to repair the damage.”

“I’m so sorry.” Emmalyne looked back at Fenella. “She seems at peace.”

“For the moment. She’s had her morning medicine,” Morna replied. “In time she’ll be ranting and screaming. Sometimes it goes on for hours. Usually I take the boys out to the garden or to care for the animals when she has one of her fits. It’s quite hard on them.”

“I can imagine.”

“We’d best leave before she gets agitated. I can’t always manage her very well when she’s excited.”

Emmalyne looked one last time at Fenella. Her skin was pale, and Emmalyne saw scratches and scars where she’d obviously done harm to herself. “I will come to see you again, Fenella,” she said with a smile. Fenella never looked up or even acknowledged her best friend from the past.

Once the door was locked and the two women were walking back downstairs, Emmalyne couldn’t help but remember Dr. Williams’s comments about sending Fenella to an institution. “What will become of her?” she asked softly.

Morna paused at the bottom of the steps. “I donnae ken. She’s in the good Lord’s hands is all we know.”

Emmalyne reached out and embraced the older woman. “I’m so sorry. So very sorry. I will pray for her . . . and for you.”