The Glorious Prodigal Page 4

  Instantly the atmosphere changed, and Leah could sense it. It was thick, and she saw the father and son locked in some sort of struggle. Neither of them spoke for a moment.

  Finally Richard said heavily, “I see you haven’t. I hate to see a man waste his life with things like that.”

  It was an embarrassing moment, and only Diane Winslow’s tact saved it. She immediately went over to the piano and began playing “In the Good Old Summertime” and other popular melodies.

  ****

  “Well, you won the family over.”

  Stuart had driven down beside the river, and he pulled the horse to a stop. “I knew you would. You could win anybody over, Leah.”

  “You have a wonderful family, Stuart. You must be very proud of them.”

  “I am.” He hesitated and then laughed shortly. “Of course, not all of them are so proud of me. As a matter of fact, I guess I’m one of the lesser Winslows.”

  “Lesser! In what way?”

  “Pretty much every way, I guess. I don’t have Dad’s drive for business. Jeff’s got that. Nobody’s like Mom. And Liza’s got much more talent than I do.”

  “I don’t think they feel that way about it.”

  They sat there and enjoyed the unusually cool evening air for a while. August had been a hot month, and now Leah said, “Let’s walk a little bit. Could we?”

  “Sure.” Stuart leaped out, tied the horse to the fence, and then turned to Leah. “It’s a pleasant night.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  The two of them walked along the river and admired the moon as it reflected on the ripples broken up into a thousand silver-crested waves.

  “I used to swim in this river when I was a young boy. Jeff and I would come down and spend hours here. There’s a hole down there under a bridge that’s twelve feet deep. It was a big day in my life when I was able to go down all the way and touch the bottom.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe ten.”

  The two stopped at a bend in the river and listened as the river made sibilant whispers around their feet. Neither of them spoke for a while, but finally Stuart turned and examined her face. She was surprised at his intense scrutiny and said, “What is it, Stuart? Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “I think I’m working up to tell you how much I’ve come to admire you, Leah.” He put his hands out gently and drew her forward. “I want to marry you, Leah.” He pulled her close and kissed her. She was not a girl to give way, for he knew she was stronger than that. She was, in fact, the strongest woman he’d ever met, and now as he held her, he felt the half-giving, half-refusing strength of her body. A wild sweetness came to him, and when she drew back, he was shocked at the power she had to stir him. “Marry me, Leah,” he whispered.

  Leah found herself trembling, for she had already been warned about the wild side of Stuart Winslow. He had a force of will and an attractiveness beyond most men. She drew a quick breath, then put her hands on his chest. “I can’t do that, Stuart.”

  “Why not? Don’t you care for me at all?”

  “I . . . I do care for you, but I could never marry a man who wasn’t a Christian. You know that, don’t you?”

  “But you could help me with it, Leah. I could find my way if I had you to help me!”

  Leah felt a wild impulse to accept his proposal right then, but she forced herself to say, “I can’t give you an answer.” She turned and walked quickly back to the buggy, knowing that it was not Stuart Winslow she was fleeing—but her own heart!

  ****

  Reverend Charles Fields looked up at the knock at his door, then rose from his desk. He had been working on his sermon and had reached some difficult points, so he was glad for an interruption. He opened the door and blinked with surprise. “Why, Miss Freeman!” he said. “It’s good to see you. Come in.”

  Stepping back, Fields waited until the young woman had entered. “Here, sit down.”

  “I don’t want to interrupt you, Pastor,” Leah protested, but she took the seat at once.

  Fields laughed. “I’m never unhappy to be interrupted when I’m working on sermons. I like to preach, but getting something to say is hard for me.” Fields was a small man with a pair of clear, steady gray eyes. He was not handsome, but there was a winsomeness about him, and he had a wonderful voice. He was not a married man, and all the young women—and their mothers—of the congregation were very much aware that he was an eligible and willing bachelor.

  Fields saw that Leah Freeman was tense, and although he was a young pastor, he had learned to recognize certain signs, and now he said quickly, “I’ve been wanting to talk to you. You’ve done a wonderful job with your Sunday school class. When Mrs. Evans got sick, I didn’t know what we’d do, but you stepped in, and all the girls love you. I’m very grateful for what you’ve done to help out.”

  “Oh, that was nothing! It’s something I love to do.” Leah had taken over a class of junior girls and for the past month had met with them faithfully. It was something she had done before in her church in Fort Smith, and it was not difficult for her.

  The two sat there talking about the Sunday school and about church business. All the time Fields was aware that the tension in Leah was getting worse. He finally slowed down the pace of the talk, and as he knew would happen, she soon came out with what was really on her mind.

  “I . . . I’d like to talk with you about a problem, Pastor.”

  “Certainly. As you know, nothing that I speak with people about ever goes out that door.”

  Leah struggled for a moment, bit her lip, and then she said quickly and nervously, “Stuart Winslow has asked me to marry him. He’s not a Christian man, but I love him, Brother Fields. And I’ve come to ask for your advice.”

  Fields was not taken completely off guard by her announcement. He was a good friend to Stuart and to all the Winslow family, and he was an astute young man. He had noted that Stuart had recently started coming to church with Leah, something he himself had not been able to persuade the young man to do. He had also had a brief talk with Mrs. Winslow, who had some inkling of the situation.

  Fields glanced out the window for a moment and studied a squirrel that was perched on the limb of the oak tree out in the yard. He prayed for wisdom, for he felt he was treading on very dangerous ground himself.

  “Miss Leah, I’m going to be very honest with you. You know, of course, that Stuart and I are good friends. Indeed, the Winslows practically helped raise me. I’m very close to the entire family.”

  “Yes, I know that, Pastor.”

  “As to your question,” Fields said carefully. “Usually I try to be very nondirective. When people ask me what to do, I hem and haw around and pretty much tell them to pray and ask God what to do.” He turned his compassionate eyes upon Leah and said, “Miss Leah, please take this the right way. I’d . . . hate to see you marry Stuart.”

  Leah dropped her eyes, and her lips began to tremble. A brief moment passed before she was able to respond. “Why do you say that, Pastor?”

  “He’s too young, and he hasn’t found himself yet. Certainly you must see that.”

  “But he can change.” Leah lifted her head, and there was pleading in her fine eyes. “Anybody can change, can’t they?”

  “I’ve heard so many young women say that,” Fields said. He shook his head sorrowfully. “They think that if they just marry a man who’s wild, they can be a good influence. But I’ve never seen it work out. Not one time.”

  A silence fell across the room then. Fields knew he had not given the counsel the young woman had wanted, but he felt it was the right thing. “Wait awhile. He is young, and we’ll pray for him, as his family has been doing for years. But he’s not ready for marriage yet, Miss Freeman. I tell you that honestly.”

  Leah rose and her voice was trembling. “Thank you, Pastor, for your time.”

  Fields saw her to the door, and when she left, he closed it. He leaned back against it and
thought, Most people don’t want advice. They want you to agree with what they’ve already decided to do. She’s decided to marry him, and she’ll try to change him, but unless Stuart finds God, he’ll break her heart exactly as he’s broken his parents’ hearts!

  ****

  Leah smiled up at Stuart. “You’re going to like this preacher,” she said confidently. “I heard him once before. He’s such a wonderful speaker.”

  Stuart glanced down and smiled at Leah. “I never thought I’d drive fifty miles to hear a preacher, but you could make me do anything, Leah.”

  Since he had first spoken of marriage three months earlier, he had thought of little else, and his life had changed since. It had been encouraging for his family to see him throw himself into the work of the farm and even help out with the general store. He had been faithful at attending church, and even Richard had hope for this prodigal son of his.

  The two of them had come to Little Rock to hear the famous evangelist Gypsy Smith, who was holding a large tent meeting on the outskirts of town. As Stuart and Leah made their way toward the enormous tent, Stuart said, “That’s not his real name, is it—Gypsy?”

  “No. His name is Rodney Smith, but he’s a real gypsy. He was born in a gypsy tent in England,” Leah said. “He couldn’t read or write. I heard him tell all this in his testimony at another service. Maybe he’ll give it again tonight.”

  The two found seats midway to the front. A layer of sawdust covered the floor, and the lighting threw its brilliance over the crowd. It was a noisy gathering, and Stuart looked around curiously. His coming here was more a matter of wanting to be with Leah than to hear a preacher, but he was impressed at the size of the crowd. “Is that him up on the platform?”

  “Yes. He looks like a gypsy, doesn’t he?”

  “Yes, he does.”

  “He joined the Salvation Army after he was converted. General William Booth heard him sing and pray, and soon after that he became an evangelist for the Army. Everywhere he’s gone since then, God has blessed him.”

  The two sat there and finally the singing began. Gypsy Smith himself led it. He was no more than medium height, rather stocky, with a swarthy complexion. He had a brilliant smile that was so full it even shone from his soulful brown eyes. He played the accordion well and had a powerful voice that reached to every corner of the tent.

  “Well, he sure can sing. I’ll say that for him,” Stuart said.

  “Wait until you hear him preach. He stirs your heart.”

  Stuart had a clinical interest, for he had heard a great deal about Gypsy Smith from Leah. When the evangelist finally rose to preach, Stuart noted that he had a marvelous speaking voice as well. Being a singer himself, Stuart admired the man’s clear baritone. He soon found out that the gypsy from England was also a gifted preacher.

  The sermon was on the subject of the blood of Christ, and over and over again the evangelist would say, “The blood of Jesus Christ, His Son, cleanses us from all sins.” He went on to talk about himself and how he had needed so desperately to be cleansed from sin. Then he raised his voice and said, “All have sinned and come short of the glory of God. Every one of you sitting out there. If you are not under the blood of Jesus, you are under the condemnation of hell.”

  Stuart began feeling uncomfortable. He had heard preaching all of his life, but had never been moved by it. But there was something about this sermon he could not ignore. He began to shift uncomfortably in his chair and was aware that something was happening deep down inside of him.

  Leah also felt the power of the sermon. When Smith spoke of the death of Jesus, it brought tears to her eyes, as it always did. She was aware that beside her Stuart was sitting ramrod straight. A glance at his face showed that he was tense, and all of the frivolity was gone. She prayed silently, Oh, God, let him hear your voice and let him get saved tonight.

  Finally, Gypsy Smith said, “It’s time for you to come to the cross. There’s no other place for you if you’re lost. Only Jesus can save you. I want you to come forward now. We’ll pray for you, and you’ll be on your way to heaven before you leave this tent.”

  Stuart stood there, his head bowed, looking unseeingly at the sawdust-covered floor. He was amazed at how many people of all ages were going down to the front of the tent, and an almost irresistible urge came to him to go forward as well. But he fought it off.

  “Would you like to go down, Stuart? I’ll go with you.”

  Stuart shook his head, shutting off the soft voice. “I can’t go now.”

  The service was soon over, and Leah’s heart broke at Stuart’s reluctance. She had felt that tonight was the one chance he might have had, and he had turned down God’s invitation.

  They said nothing until they reached the hotel where they both had taken rooms, and when he took her to the door, he said, “I’ve got to talk to you, Leah.”

  “You can’t come into my room, Stuart.”

  Desperately, he said, “All right. We’ll talk here. I’m a lost cause if you don’t help me, Leah. I should have gone forward tonight, but I just couldn’t. But if we were married, you could help me.”

  It was the old plea that had touched her heart before, and Leah found herself responding to it.

  He stood there pleading, and she felt her resistance breaking away. When he put his arms around her, she felt him trembling.

  He’s so close to the kingdom. I can help him. If we were married, I know I could show him the way. The certainty she felt in her heart strengthened her resolve, and at that moment she made up her mind.

  “All right, Stuart. I’ll marry you whenever you say.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Yes, but you must promise me one thing.”

  “Anything!”

  “You must seek after God. Jesus is the only hope of our having any kind of a marriage.”

  “I promise,” he said. He put his arms around her, and they clung together.

  Then she stepped back and said, “Tomorrow I’ll marry you.”

  ****

  The two of them were married the next day by the pastor of the small church. She had not understood how Stuart had managed to obtain the license, but he had been gone all day, and they had been married at four o’clock. He had taken her out to the finest restaurant in the city, and now they had come back to the honeymoon suite he had insisted on.

  Stuart had stepped outside for a moment, and Leah still couldn’t believe she was now actually Mrs. Stuart Winslow as she unpacked her small carpetbag. A few minutes later the door opened, closed, and Stuart stood before her. He had his violin case in his hand, and he flashed her a quick grin.

  “Mrs. Winslow, I have a special wedding present for you.”

  His cheerful expression relieved her. She sat down on the bed and waited.

  Stuart winked at her and said, “A wedding present for my new wife.” He took the violin out, tucked it under his chin, and began to play. He played so softly that no one in the next room could have heard it. It was such a beautiful tune. There was a poignancy and power to its lilting melody that warmed Leah’s heart. Somehow as she listened, Leah could not keep the tears from her eyes. When he put the violin back in the case, he came over and sat down beside her for a moment. “I just wrote it today,” he said. “It’s for you.”

  “What’s the name of it?” Leah asked, brushing the tears from her eyes.

  “Leah’s Song.”

  “Oh, Stuart, how beautiful!”

  Stuart rose, put out the light, and took her in his arms. “I haven’t written the words to the song yet, but I’ll write them as we live together.”

  As he kissed her, Leah could hardly believe the happiness that flooded her heart as she held on to him fiercely.

  “By the time we’ve been married fifty years,” he whispered, “it’ll be a very long song.”

  As she nestled into his strong arms, she heard herself crying out, “Never leave me, Stuart.”

  And then his voice came to her. “I never will.
What we have is forever.”

  Leah felt more tears gather in her eyes, but she turned and whispered, “Yes—it’ll be forever!”

  CHAPTER THREE

  First Anniversary

  Thanksgiving had always been a special holiday for Leah. Some of her earliest memories were of those times when she was little more than a toddler, following her mother around in the kitchen. She always associated the season with the smell of turkey roasting in the oven, spicy pumpkin pies, and the bustle of getting everything ready at the same time.

  Now Thanksgiving had come again, the end of her first year of marriage, and she had risen from bed determined to cook a Thanksgiving dinner that Stuart would never forget—their first together as husband and wife. She moved carefully, for the baby she carried was only a month away from entering the world. She was swollen and her face was puffy, but she ignored the discomfort as she moved around the kitchen, then reached up to get a large mixing bowl from a top shelf. The effort, slight as it was, brought a grimace to her face. Her pregnancy had been difficult. She had not complained, but she had felt guilty. She knew all too well how little patience Stuart had with any kind of distress she might speak of.

  Getting the eggs out of the icebox, she cracked four of them and then beat them with a fork until they were light yellow. She added the pumpkin that Annie had cleaned and put it in a bowl and then stirred it with a wooden mixing spoon. From time to time she added cinnamon, ginger, and allspice as she continued to stir. Finally she poured half a cup of molasses and a cup of milk into the bowl. She was just getting it all mixed together when a voice behind her said, “Now, whut you think you’re doin’?”

  Guiltily Leah held up the spoon and said defensively, “I’m making pumpkin pudding for dinner.”

  The black face of Annie Waters was a study in disgust. She was a large woman—not overweight, just big—in her middle thirties. She came quickly across the room and snatched the spoon away from Leah. “I done told you you ain’t cookin’ today! I reckon I’m able to do all the cookin’ around dis here place!”