When the group arrived back at the house, bedraggled and worn out, the older children all took a younger one under their wing to wash up and put to bed for a nap. Timothy inquired after Jessica, thinking this might be a good time to talk with her, but not being able to find her, he retired to his room to wash up and rest. Soon the house was quiet, but for the storm which was now raging outdoors. The Reverend was just browsing for a book to read when there came a gentle tap at his door. He opened it to find Jessica, looking very damp and put out with a pleading look on her wet face. He ushered her in, careful to leave the door open a bit- for propriety's sake- and retrieved a large towel from the bathroom. She offered a small smile of thanks and sunk in a heap to the floor, drying off her face and hair which was still dripping.

Timothy watched her, wondering if he should maybe put off his questions for another time. She must have sensed his uneasiness, because she said to him, without looking up or pausing her drying, "Please do sit down and stop worrying, I'm quite alright." He chuckled at this and she finally looked up at him, this time with a genuine, if not amused smile on her face. He sat in the big, worn chair by the window a few feet away from her and when he had sat she began to speak, the words at first halting but then tumbling faster and faster. "I...I heard that father told you...about what I want to do. You probably think I'm a selfish child. I know I am. But I AM glad he asked you to speak with me because, for all my foolishness, I think you understand me and might understand why I feel that I must go through with this." This statement and the girl's obvious trust in him touched Timothy's heart and he vowed to himself to do all he could to help her. When she looked at him, he nodded at her to continue and she turned her gaze back to the floor before she began again to speak.

"I can't pretend to understand it really, this desire in my heart. It's always been there as long as I can remember. The desire to serve, to help people...people who have nothing. I want to live where they live and experience true poverty. I couldn't pretend to understand their pain unless I experienced it myself. It isn't that I long for suffering. That sounds too morbid. It is more that I desire simplicity. A life where black and white are clearly distinguishable. I want to be in a place where the hand of God can be seen everywhere and not clouded by the dust of machinery and "progress." I want to help people to find Jesus and teach them how to worship Him….is….is any of this making sense?"

During this monologue, the girl had stood up and paced the room, eventually coming to the one window and facing out of it. But now she turned towards the Reverend whose head was bent and chin rested in his hand. He was thinking, thinking hard. Praying harder. How to guide this young woman and tell her what she needed to hear? But she must have misinterpreted his silence because she apologized for her "ranting" and flew to exit the room. Timothy stood quickly, knocking over the chair , and grabbed her arm beckoning her back. "No no! I'm sorry, forgive me! I was just thinking, you said so much and I was praying for help, it wasn't you!" The girl searched his face for truth, her cheeks blushing scarlet with embarrassment. But he squeezed her hand and she came back into the room and sat in the chair which he righted. He then to her great surprise, and his own, sat on the floor at her feet and taking her hand, pressed it and said "You spoke no foolishness, my friend, I assure you. I was simply taken aback by your words. I do understand you, and I'm so glad you trust me enough to share your heart as you do. I too felt the desire that you are experiencing, and that is why you see me here now as a man of God. Following that desire was the greatest decision I ever have made. However, I cannot promise you that the road to fulfilling it, and living it, will be easy. Especially in your case.

"My family…" she whispered. "Yes. It will mean giving them up, at least in part." Silent tears began to roll down the girl's face and Timothy just sat there, holding her small hand and praying for divine help for her struggling soul.

After a little while, the tears stopped, and he handed her a handkerchief. "Thank you." she said, and he saw in her eyes that she was grateful for more that just the piece of cloth. A glance at the clock made her fly up once again, nearly as abruptly as she had before. "Oh I AM sorry, it's so late and you're to meet the train early tomorrow, are you not?" "It's quite alright," he assured her, "I'm not much of a long sleeper anyhow, but you should be abed before the children start looking for you." They shared a smile and he walked with her to the door. "Will you be alright?" he asked. "I think so," she replied. "Might I write to you though...for support? I think I'm going to speak to mother and father tomorrow." She looked so imploringly that he couldn't have refused even if he'd wished to. "Of course." She smiled with a tremendous sigh of relief and pulled him into a hug before flitting off down the hall towards the source of tiny, whispering voices.

As he closed the door behind her, he felt an emptiness and chill,as if the fire has gone out. She was certainly something, that girl. She got to him, and hit a part of his heart he hadn't dusted off in a while. She made him remember his passion and youth. There was something else about her though. When she left, he felt just so...empty. With a start, the thought hit him full force. It was enough to made him laugh out loud but immediately sober up and stare stupidly into the fire. He was in love. He was absolutely in love. Not with the eldest girl who was graceful and intelligent, nor with one of her willowy and musical sisters. No, he went and fell for the little, fiery one who liked books and wanted to risk her neck in some far-off land. He sat down next to the fire and stared into it, till he realized that the sun was coming up and that meant he was soon to leave...