Rachel Van Dyken

Copyright © 2011
RACHEL VAN DYKEN 
AND LEAH SANDERS

ISBN
978-1-936852-76-5

Cover Art Designed b
y Elaina Lee

Edited b
y Stephanie Taylor
and Em Petrova

For my dad, a godly man of integrity, who
is
always around when we need
him.

April
193
5

David Graham
stood over his wife’s grave while the minister prayed.
Her favorite spring lilies adorned her casket
,
a
nd she would be laid to rest under the shade of a beautiful maple
,
just like the tree he had proposed under at th
at
picnic
over
twenty years ago.

Their lives had revolved around her frail health for years
now
. David
had been
consumed
every day
with
concern
for Emily. Nothing else mattered in his life. He
had
worked, yes. Because he
had
had to in order to keep them afloat. The factory was mindless work though, so it
had been
easy to
continue doing his job without
allowing it to consume him
.

Emily
had been sick for so long, it was almost a relief for her suffering to finally come to an end. Almost.
But all the prayers they had offered
,
begging for her healing, for her life, had been to no avail, and his faith had suffered a slow and agonizing defeat.

T
he casket
descended
inch by inch
into
the ground
,
and his pain increased
exponentially
, the ache encompassing him
as
she
slipped
further
from hi
s reach
. Unable to watch
,
David’s gaze moved past the
disappearing
box to his son’s
grieving
face on the other side of the pit.
The loss was tangible in the
boy’s
gray
eyes.
His grief reflected in the dark cloud that hung there.
Eleven
was too soon to lose a mother.

And for David, far
too soon to lose
a w
ife
.
T
he love of his life
.

Strange that the sun w
ould shine on such a day. How could the universe not be mourning Emily along with David? But it wasn’
t. In fact, it seemed
happy.
Like
God
was happy.

The
realization
cut
through
him
, and
h
e
squeezed
his eyes
shut
to fight against the tears threatening to spill over his cheeks.
It was selfish.
S
elfish of God to take Emily fro
m him and Blaine.
What did God want with her?
He didn’t
need
her.
They
needed her.

Even as the thought churned in his mind, he knew it was wrong – knew it wasn’t for him to question God – but
the anger burned
in him nonetheless.
God had allowed her to get sick, just as He had allowed her to suffer so long with the debilitating illness. Then He took her, trying to make it seem like He was doing
them
a favor.

Life wasn’t hard enough living through these tough times, but God ha
d
to take away love as well. That’s not the kind of God David wanted to follow.
The preacher said
God was
all-powerful;
so
w
hat was He trying to prove now?

A lump of fury rose in his throat. Why was the preacher taking so long to finish his prayer? A prayer to a God who toyed with
the lives and hearts of
good men
–
w
ho
took away the mothers of young innocent boys
!
The anger surged, and
that final
a
men
couldn’
t come soon enough.

David stole another glance at his son.
Eyes
glisten
ed
with sorrow
– his frame so frail against the dismal gray.
Blaine
clenched his small hands into tight fists, and his
lips moved almost imperceptibly. David concentrated on them, st
rain
ing to read what lay there. What would a boy say at his mother’s grave? What could he say to bring himself comfort? David desperately wanted to know. He
longed
to say those magic words himself.
T
o chant something that would bring her back to them. But nothing
could fix it – not a chant, not a song, and not a prayer.

The boy would realize that soon enough.

He looked
abruptly
away as the preacher drew his
futile
prayer to a close. The casket
rested
on the bottom of the grave now. David took his shovelful of dirt and tossed it onto the
white pine box. Blaine followed suit, his jaw firm
,
set in the same stubborn way as Emily would
have done
if
she had made up her mind to do something she hated.
He could almost hear her
voice
:
Sometimes you have to do things you just don’t want to do.

The dirt landed with a spatter, emphasizing the close of this chapter of their lives. She was gone now. Nothing could change that.

David couldn’t change it, but he
wished he
could dull the pain… somehow.

The procession of mourners offering their condolences to the two of them seemed to drag on eternally. If he heard one more
God bless you both
,
he was certain he would lose his temper. If this was God’s blessing, David wanted no part in it.

He
quelled
the urge to lash out with venom as the preacher shook his hand and offered his encouragement. He smiled and nodded and said, “Thank you, Reverend. It was a beautiful service.” All perfunctory words, because in the deepest part of his soul, David wanted to scream
. He wanted to rip a hole in the cloudless sky with his voice and accuse God
.
It’s not right! It’s not fair! What happened to yo
ur justice? Where is your love?

But he said none of those things. Instead, he swallowed them, turned to Blaine and mumbled coldly, “Let’s go home.” And
without looking back
he started down the gravel p
ath to where his Model A pick
up
waited.

He climbed into the cab and rested his head on the steering wheel.
Exhaling slowly, he lifted his head and gl
anced out the passenger window.

Blaine hadn’t followed him. Instead
,
the boy had
gravitated
back to his mother’s grave and stood watching the old grave digger as he refilled the six
-
foot hole with rich dark earth.
H
is small frame
dropped to
it
s knees, and even from where
David
sat
he
could see his son’s shoulders shuddering with forceful sobs; sobs caused by the same heart-shattering grief threatening to suffocate him now.

David wanted to go to him. He wanted to wrap
Blaine up in
his arms and
hold
him like he used to
when he was a little boy
, w
hen thin
gs were simple. Before Emily got
sick.
Hold him and soothe
away
his t
ears. But he couldn’t. No matter how much he wanted to, his
own pain paralyzed him
. He slumped back against the glass and closed his eyes.

Waiting for Blaine felt like an eternity. David wanted to get home
,
out of the
mocking
cheerful weather
,
and lock himself in his dark room
,
away from the rest of the world, so he could grieve properly
and maybe sleep off his indignation, if it were possible. Somehow he knew it wouldn’t be.
Already he could feel the anger making itself at home in his heart, filling the gap left by the loss of
his wife
.

Out of desperation, David fired up the pickup and laid his fist on the horn. The familiar
uh-ooga
pierced through the quiet and brought Blaine back to his feet
as if the weight of his grief was fighting his every effort to rise
. David watched him turn and shuffle blindly toward the truck. Despair was evident in the boy’s sagging shoulders, and his head hung low. Again, David’s heart went out to his son, but he said nothing as the boy pulled the heavy door open and crawled into the cab beside him. The words weren’t there, and silence seemed the only respectful choice.

The truck jolted forward as he shifted it into gear and rumbled down
the road toward home, unutterable anguish hanging
in the stifling hot air
between them.

The long drive home in silence lef
t time for the memories to stream
through David’s mind. He remembered the first day he drove home in the brand new Model A. He had used the inheritance from his grandfather to purchase the pickup, a gift for their fourteenth anniversary. He had sounded the horn as he pulled up in front of their little house, bringing E
mily running out to find
him waving at her from the
shiny green
cab
. She had laughed and clapped her hands with joy at his suggestion to go for a ride.

The sparkle in her green eyes
and
her wavy golden hair
was
as bright and true as the day they
’d
met. He had known
even
in that first moment that she was meant for him. Her crystal laugh and carefree love for life had drawn him immediately
in
and his
bachelor
’s
resolve
evaporated into thin air.

David
had
proposed t
o her on a warm
fall day under a tall maple
whose leaves had only begun
to change.
Emily had cried tears of happiness and had thrown her arms around his neck. The following spring they were married in the small country church Emily’s father had pastored her entire life. She carried a bouquet of her favorite spring lilies and her green eyes danced with the bliss they shared.
He could still hear her whispering
I love you
into his ear as he lifted her into the rented carriage for their wedding trip.

He could still feel her warm tears on his neck when they lost their first child
– a baby girl, little Naomi
Grace
; she had lived only two days
.

He could still see her worr
ied gaze
when he
brought
her his conscription notice
in
trembling hands. “I’ll wait for you, Davey,” she had whispered at the train station
and had stood waving on the platform until she was a tiny dot to him as the train rattled down the tracks toward New York and the ships that would take him to the war across the Atlantic
.
Those curs
e
d Europeans and their irreconcilable conflicts had stolen two years
with his beloved Emily
.

He could still hear her laughter as she played with newborn Blaine. After five years of trying, he had come along to fill their hearts with joy unspeakable. How Emily had loved him.

Now here he was slumped against the door, the light gone. God, you’ve let us down, David thought, and the fury tightened in his chest again, taking a deep root there.

The truck squealed unhappily as it turned down the street toward the little house. David brought it grumbling to a stop in front of the fenced yard and killed the engine. He
released a heavy sigh
and looked at the
forlorn
house. Not a home anymore.

“Come on then,” he muttered. David stepped out of the truck and slammed
the
heavy door. Then he
strode
to the passenger side and opened the door for his son. Blaine didn’t move right away. He seemed so small and frail there all alone in the truck. Instinctively, David reached in and lifted him into his arms then carried the boy to the house, up the narrow stairwell and into his dark room.