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Chapter Sixty
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A Rainy Day
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Early Tuesday morning, the telephone rang in the Cottage. "Good morning. Nathan Grant here."
"Nathan! It's Dad. I'm glad I caught you before work. We arrived late last evening, after an uneventful ride. I didn't want to awaken you then as I know you are still an early riser."
"Dad! Glad you arrived safely. How are you and Mom doing? Did you take time to discuss things on the trip?"
"We sure did. No naps on this trip. There was, and still is, a lot to absorb. I am glad to know the whole truth now though, so thank you for telling us."
"I'm glad you know too. It will be a relief to tell Zach after he graduates as that will endear him to Peter and Carol all the more. Like grandparents he didn't know he needed!" Nathan smiled at the thought. "How are Mom's knees?"
"Her knees? She is resting them today, so we'll have a simple soup with cheese and crackers tonight when I get home from work. She's not in more pain or anything, just tired. Spent. Even though it was a wonderful, happy time, I think she felt the stress of it more than I did… At least so far. I'm still trying to figure out how to thank, Peter, and Carol too, Nathan. I will at least start to write a letter, maybe tonight? We'll see. I don't want too much time to pass before it gets posted."
"Take the time you need, Dad. There is no rush and no deadline." Nathan paused then added. "Peter approached me last evening and asked me to help him with a project he's had in mind for a long time. He wants to convert the three oversize bedrooms into five decent sized ones and wants my advice and some design ideas. Maybe you can give me some input since you actually stayed in the house?"
"Wow! It makes sense as the guest room where we stayed was the size of half of your cottage! I'll think about it when I have time to do so. I better go now though. Are you and Allie okay?"
"We are. We had a good father and daughter talk last evening and that girl amazes me, Dad. What a treasure. We both were missing you and Mom though and wishing you could move closer to us. Just know that's our desire, okay?"
"I understand, Son. Not yet though. Listen, have a good day and know your mom and I love you and Allie very much! Give her a kiss for us?"
"I will. We love you too, Dad. Give Mom a kiss from me, please?"
"Will do. Good bye."
"Bye for now, Dad."
"Good bye, Dad." Elizabeth kissed her father's cheek, surprised at her reluctance to let him go even though he was transporting important mail. "Safe travels and thank you again for taking the letters. "Please give my greetings to Nathan and Allie and hurry back!"
William kissed his daughter and whispered, "I love to hear you call me Dad, Bessie."
With a final kiss for his wife, he got into the vehicle, ducking the rain drops that were beginning to fall. Hudson was driving William and his assistant, David Wright, to the Hope Valley train station. They had minimal luggage for clothing, but a large satchel of work papers and both of the books by C.N. Grant. William was excited to meet the author, get the books signed and discuss some of the writings in-person. Actually, William Thatcher was excited to meet Nathan Grant for many reasons!
Upon returning from the train station, Hudson was ready to chauffer Elizabeth and her mother to Judge Bill Avery's apartment for the morning counseling session. He quietly observed how his dear Miss Bessie was improving and healing in recent weeks. She was his favorite of the three Thatcher daughters and, although he would never say it out loud, he thought of her with similar affection as her father and even called her by her father's pet name for her. Today he held the umbrella over Grace as she climbed into the vehicle, then returned up the steps to do the same for Elizabeth. Although rainy overnight, the heavens had opened in earnest this morning and it was pouring heavily and loudly.
"I am so grateful for the ride today, Huds. I think we would be drenched if we had to walk, even with umbrellas! Thank you."
"Always my pleasure, Miss Elizabeth. I will return to park out in front in an hour and a half, but no hurry if you need more time. I plan to get some supplies and lunch foods for when we return home. I think soup sounds good on this raw November day. Is that acceptable Mrs. Thatcher?"
"Of course, Hudson. It sounds wonderful to me! Thank you for the ride and stay dry yourself!"
Seated in Bill's cozy living room, Elizabeth was opening her tote and removing her journal as Pastor Joseph and Dr. Ben entered the apartment, shaking their umbrellas and leaving them in the stand beside the door.
"Good morning! Good very wet morning!" Ben exclaimed. "That fire feels good."
"I brought coffee for us all as we need to be warmed today!" Joseph set the basket on the floor as he shed his overcoat and cap, hanging them on the clothes tree beside the umbrellas. "Let me get these distributed before we begin." Joseph poured four mugs and took one in to Grace in the bedroom.
"This is wonderful, Pastor. Thank you so much!" Grace gladly accepted the beverage and pulled her shawl closer, placing her hands around the warming enamelware mug.
"You are welcome, Mrs. Thatcher." Joseph bowed out of the room, then asked Elizabeth if her mother could join them this morning. "It is cooler in the bedroom right now, and she looks cold."
"Of course. Let me go get her." Elizabeth set her mug on the table and hurried to invite her mother to join them beside the fire.
Once in place and with hot coffee in hand, Joseph opened their meeting in prayer before Dr. Ben began.
"Well! It has been a week since we met, Elizabeth, and I am curious as to how you are today?"
"I am feeling so much better each day. In spite of grey skies and buckets of rain, I feel cheerful. Isn't that amazing? Father took my letters to Nathan and Allie this morning and now I just have to wait, and pray, and hope…" Elizabeth observed the steam rising from her coffee. "I feel as though I have hope now. Nothing has changed, but in fact everything is changing! I am excited."
"Excited about?"
"A few things actually. First is what might come of my letter to Nathan. I am hopeful for more correspondence and a renewed friendship at least. I pray he accepts my apologies and believes my sincerity. I will now begin to write some shorter, more specific notes to him."
"My other excitement will surprise you! Especially because both of you were concerned early on when I said I had no more books in me. I was wrong! I have been writing again." With a bright smile, Elizabeth described the story she had told Jack and how further stories were coming to her all the time now. "I don't know what might happen in the future, but I am thrilled to have so many ideas and have numerous stories already begun!"
"Stories for children? Young ones like Jack?" Joseph clarified.
Elizabeth nodded. "If I could get them published, they would have illustrations on one page and the opposite page would have the story, unfolding over a few pages. Just enough to pique a child's interest and spark their imagination while the story is told. Right now Jack is the main character who has the adventures, but I may have a young girl be the main character in some."
"My! You have given a lot of thought to this, Elizabeth, and it sounds wonderful. Are there lessons included in the stories?" Dr. Ben questioned. "I would expect that from a teacher!"
"Some will have moral lessons, you know, for instance encouraging right behavior, while others may have nature lessons illustrating the wonders of God's world. All will be fun, but underlying telling stories of truth. They will be bedtime stories that are meant to be read to children while they sit on your lap and enjoy the illustrations." Elizabeth laughed. "At least that is my current idea! Who knows what tomorrow will bring!"
Pastor Joseph and Dr. Ben looked at each other, marveling at the change they had witnessed over the past weeks. Was this really the woman who had presented as so depressed and dull, toubled and unable to envision a future?
Joseph turned to include Elizabeth's mother as he had some questions for her. "Mrs. Thatcher? What are your thoughts this morning?"
Grace Thatcher was herself trying to comprehend the changes in her daughter. "I find that my Elizabeth has awakened from a long sleep and become someone new. I hardly recognize her energy and inspiration, although I see hints of the bubbly, spirited girl she always was." She addressed her daughter directly. "But, now, Elizabeth, you are more settled, refined, sure of yourself, though not in a prideful way, more humble maybe? I am amazed and incredibly thankful." Grace looked from one man to the other and shared. "God has answered our prayers beyond what I could even dream…"
Ensconced in the warm, cozy row house, Elizabeth and her mother were each seated with books in their hands even as the rain fell in torrents outside. They had enjoyed a simple lunch and, after driving Laura home, Hudson had returned to the Thatcher's row house to assist Mrs. Swift with dinner preparations as needed. Jack had seemed sleepy so had wanted a nap and his mother completely understood. Today felt like a day to either nap or read, accompanied by a cup of tea.
As her father had expressed his excitement to meet Nathan, Elizabeth had realized she hadn't really read through Nathan's book of poetry! She had been so focused on her past and her recovery process that she had missed an opportunity to get to know Nathan better. This afternoon would be a good time to begin to carefully read the volume from the beginning. She opened to the Dedication page and read about the Mounties who had inspired Nathan to become a Mountie. Years ago she had wondered why he had chosen that profession. She knew for Jack it was in large part because his father had been a decorated Mountie, but for Nathan it would not have been his father. She moved to the next page and began to read what appeared to be a prologue.
'My Gift
By C. N. Grant (EMH)
Word-pictures.
Images telling a tale. Words painting a picture.
Poetry-paintings flow through my pen
like an endless stream sent from the Source
—who is the wellspring of my being—
through the reflective lake of my heart to touch,
refresh and invigorate, to enlighten, challenge and inspire,
and, not least of all, to surprise!
My gift,
…revealed in the undercurrents or a whispered secret in the wind.
…interwoven with harmonies
or with colors, shade and hue that set the mood.
…Truth captured in softly rendered images and chosen words.
Word-pictures. My gift… to you.' (EMH)
Elizabeth let out a slow breath. It was as if Nathan had written a personal message to her. She could feel him. See him. Understand how he would choose these images as he spent so much time in God's creation making his rounds as a Mountie. But this really wasn't the Mountie writing, this was Nathan. A man. A sensitive, observant man. How had she not realized this was who he was, why he was so quiet, a man of few spoken words? His inner person was full of words. Descriptive words. Deep and meaning-filled words. Reading the poem again, Elizabeth saw the poet, the artist, the musician and the believer she had hitherto not really known. How she longed to know Nathan now.
Lifting her eyes, she glanced out the rain-splattered window, noting the cold, blurry, grey darkness outside contrasted to the golden warmth of the lamplit room. Elizabeth felt she was looking at a picture of her own life. For so long she had lived under the mantle of grief, even though there had been pleasant and even fun times, now Elizabeth felt she was walking into color, light and warmth. Lifting a silent prayer of thanksgiving, she gently passed her fingers over the name then thought, 'I wonder why he chose the pseudonym of C. N. Grant? There must be a reason…'
Turning to the Table of Contents, she glanced down the list of writings, reading the section titles. Elizabeth was intrigued and grateful to hold this volume in her hands. She turned a page and read.
'A Pure Song
Hidden in the dark of the morning's wee hours
a solitary songbird, perhaps a lark,
sings a melody so pure it hurts my heart to hear.
Perfectly in season, yet out of time with town clocks
(and seemingly with dusk and dawn),
the lone bird sings her songs of sweetest praise,
unconcerned with any audience but One.
O, to have motives so pure as to delight
to sing to God alone and not to bow
for another's ear, approval or applause.' (EMH)
Elizabeth read the poem a second time, contemplating the truth contained in the images Nathan created. The next page also contained a poem about birds' songs. She briefly closed her eyes and pictured Nathan in his red serge, riding tall on Newton, pausing to take in the sounds on his morning rounds. It was a beautiful picture.
'Variations on a Theme
A prelude to the day, this morning's wind shouts its gusts and wild whistles
yet, in a quiet moment, gently plays the rustling leaves.
This morning's symphony sounds with the crescendo cry of a circling gull.
Up and down the scale he glides as the dove joins in
to sing her staccato coocoo coo, coocoo coo, regularly repeating her rhythm and tone.
A lone bird sails through the concert hall adding his discordant call,
that falls from sharp to flat and fades, as he flies in the wind.
Resolving the minor discord, the hidden songbirds sing their harmony perfectly on key
as the sparrow chorus chatters and chirps an undertone of antiphonal songs
from roof to wall to tree.
In the final movement, this morning's awakening wind blows a final blast, then dies,
whispering its postlude as the rustling leaves applaud…
and the Composer smiles.' (EMH)
Elizabeth smiled, seeing the image and hearing the sounds in her mind. She had enjoyed this symphony some mornings here in Hope Valley, either listening from her bed, or in the fields or woods on a morning ride with Sergeant. She closed her eyes, remembering before turning another page.
'Seagulls
In the distance,
seagulls gracefully glide through the choreography
of their morning sky-dance.
Oh, for wings . . .
But, from the nearby garden wall
a lone gull cries with a plaintive pitch
soaring out into the wind.
Soon, other gulls respond and a shrill solo becomes
a discordant quartet.
Suddenly, the flock is circling overhead,
its chorus of calls becoming a canon of questions and answers.
How can such winged grace bring forth such an unsavoury symphony?
This chorus of squawks and shrieks, is the most unmelodious ruckus-
hardly to be called a morning song!
Lord, I wonder, is that riotous noise pleasant to Your ears?'
Elizabeth chuckled aloud as she read the final line. Familiar with seagulls in Hamilton, she wondered where Nathan had encountered them. By the poem, he was familiar with them enough to describe their behavior well and, she looked back at the words, '…the chorus of squawks and shrieks...!' "Perfect description!" She whispered to herself.
"Did you say something, dear?" Grace held her book to her chest and glanced over her reading glasses at Elizabeth.
Laughing, Elizabeth explained. "I'm reading Nathan's poetry, Mother. Listen to this!" After reading the poem aloud, she added. "Isn't that a perfect description? 'Winged grace' contrasted with a 'ruckus?' Nathan has such a lovely sense of humor as well as descriptive words. It's as if I can hear and see and smell the seaside and those seagulls."
Smiling in response, Grace agreed. "I can close my eyes and be there as well! He is quite a man, Elizabeth." Grace watched the blush rise into her daughter's cheeks then returned to her reading even as she sent a silent prayer upward for God to work a miracle for Elizabeth and her Nathan.
To herself, Elizabeth repeated, 'Quite a man, indeed…'
(EMH) 'My Gift,' 'A Pure Song,' 'Variations on a Theme' and 'Seagulls' Original poetry by E.M. Hunter, Self-published in 'Illuminations.' Copyright 2014 and currently out-of-print.
