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“Was Priscilla your wife—is your name Louis?” Boy cried, breathless with anticipation.

“Yes, how you know?” wide open eyes gazing on Boy with earnest surprise.

“Because—I have the ring!!”

Louis nodded excitedly when Boy showed him the gold ring. He wrapped two spindly arms around Louis neck in an instant, and burst into thankful, overflowing tears. “My son—my long lost son!! Thank God!!” Louis cried brokenly. Boy too, was openly weeping—weeping with JOY! Elizabeth, who had been a silent, curious, and sympathizing listener during the touching discovery, tiptoed to Louis’ side, and, stroking the trembling head, whispered,” thank god. You have found each other.” A joyful smile rested on her face. Alexander, on hearing thee loud cries form outdoors, rushed in, alarmed. To his surprise, he saw his daughter and Boy around an old beggar, sobbing!! He was about to speak, but Boy was too quick for him. “Alexander, this is my long lost father!!”

With an exclamation of joy, Alexander heartily grasped Louis’ hand. When their excitement was sufficiently subdued, Elizabeth brought out the delayed luncheon.   Father and son shared their story, filling missing bits and pieces as each unraveled the years of their lives. Tears overflowed form each grateful eye in the homey little kitchen. It was decided that Louis would live with them, and immediately Elizabeth ran off to clear an unused room.

A great doubt was lifted for Boy’s mind by this finding of his father. Into boy’s heart, peace and joy settled slowly. He’d always thought of his parents were honorable or not—perhaps they were criminals. Who knew? If they were dishonorable, so will he be—under suspicion.

Now a looming obstacle had been removed from his path to begin his task of winning Elizabeth. He gave her his life’s history through his father—something he could not have told her himself. He could now, if need be, prove his identity in the world, and not have to always be an unexplained, unloved, and unknown wanderer.

He could be somebody.

****************************

One beautiful afternoon, boy took Elizabeth aside as she was exiting the well-kept kitchen.

“Elizabeth, could you meet me in the orchard after sunset?” he asked abruptly. There was one, only one single, uninvited note of tenderness in his voice. “Why?” Elizabeth turned a pair of half- bewildered, half vulnerably fearful eyes on his smiling face.

“I have something—something to tell you.” He knew that his eyes were shining, bright and golden, but he could not control them in the least.

She stared at him for a minute, blushing and silent. She could but guess what she was to be told. She turned away.

With the fervor of desperate man, boy grasped her arm, detaining her. Feeling his touch for the first time, she immediately paused in her hurried escape. She trembled slightly.

Boy felt her shiver, and dropped her arm in an instant. “Will you be there?” hope despair, and love ere all in his hoarse whisper. “Yes” she flashed him one last frightened glance, and she was gone. With a hopeful heart, filled with renewed love, he returned to his work.

Elizabeth was still blushing brightly during dinner. So much so, that Alexander asked her if her work was especially hard that day, or if the weather was too humid for her. Her eyes were suspiciously moist. Noticing boy’s unnatural nervousness, he guessed the truth. “Well, it’s only natural, and if I could make my poor motherless Lizzy happy, why, I would not hinder anything. Boy will make a great son in law, too.” Thus the shrewd man thought to himself.

Boy asked for a private interview with Alexander, to which he agreed with an inward chuckle.

Ten minutes later, the setting sun saw a young man leap out through the front door of a small cottage with a mile-long smile on his handsome face, while a slip of a girl slipped through the back door into the house.

“Did he ask for me, father?” Elizabeth asked her father tremblingly, her eyes on the ground. Alexander smiled, albeit with tears. “Yes…” “Oh, father…” she breathed, hiding her face in his chest. “Oh father…”

“Will you accept him, Lizzy?”

“Father,” she looked into his kind face with wet eyes, “if you… you do not approve, then… I would not either.” A tear slowly traveled down her cheek.

It was autumn again. The forest was worthy of a painter’s brush. The leaves swirled gracefully down from the treetops, creating a pallet of bright yellow to musty brown on the countryside. It was cheerfully peaceful. Elizabeth sang as she pick dried pod from the shriveled vines. Boy paused from his wood splitting to follow her, flitting from patch to patch of autumn pickings. His eyes filled with a longing, a craving, a need for a woman—the woman, — Elizabeth. “The time will come for me to win her heart,” he vowed to himself.

“Luncheon will be ready soon! “Elizabeth called cheerily to him before entering the house. He smiled warmly to her in reply.

An hour later, boy mopped up his face and hung up his axe. The sun was in the center of the cloudless sky. Lunch would surely be ready. As he sprang around the corner onto the front doorstep, he stopped short by surprise, and fell back a few steps.

There, huddled into a ball of rags and dirt, was a hunched, beggarly man.

Hearing boy’s footsteps, the man raised his head to reveal an attentive, fiftyish sunburned face. Peering at boy through a pair of piercing blue eyes, the uninvited visitor asked hesitatingly, “Who are you, young man, and what is this place?”

Boy slowly replied, “I am Boy, and this is the home of Alexander—the late baron’ brother, and Alexander daughter, Elizabeth.”

In his mind, Boy traveled back to that unforgettable day, when he, too had arrived at this very place, in a plight similar to this inquisitive man.

“Could you give me a place to pass the night, and a meal to strengthen my body? I will not be tedious—I must move on.  I must find my son… and give him what I would have if I had the chance.”

Strangely moved, Boy stepped to the door, “sir you are welcome to share our meal and bed.”

The two stepped into the house together, the weary traveler leaning on boy’s strong arm.

Elizabeth read the mute request in Boy’s eyes and nodded her head, smiling. Boy smiled back, and led the trembling man gently to a chair.  After a low toned consultation with Elizabeth, boy pulled a chair and tried to make the stranger feel at home.

But the sorrowful man could not talk long on anything but his endless searching. “Who is he?” Boy asked, gently, firmly. There it was again, a faint constriction of his heart as the man replied, “My son. My only, long lost son. I lost him was he was but a wee babe.”

Not daring to hope, but yet hopeful, Boy questioned further, “Why have you left him, and where?”

“My wife died—poor girl, — years ago: on a bitter, winter day, leaving me alone with a newborn boy and low funds. I could barely keep the poor lad alive: I fed him my own suppers, and covered him with wool blankets, hungry and shivering myself. But now he is gone…” the heartbroken father’s voice trembled, and tears threatened to spill down his cheeks. Sympathetic tears dimmed Boy’s eyes.

“I left him, one spring morning—about twenty-five years ago—on the streets. Oh, how I regret that I did so!!The agony was unbearable. But I was desperate. With a loose bit of dirty string, I tied my darling wife’s ring to his neck, in hopes of claiming him again.”

Boy’s fingers went of their own accord to the ring on his own neck, fixing his earnest, deep eyes on the speaker. Listening intently to the rest of the strange, sad story, he began to untie the string.

“Life became dull, but time out grew the searing loneliness I first felt. I scraped out living for myself by carving toys and such, just enough to keep body and soul together. And every night, I dreamed of my son, alone on the merciless streets, begging for bread, or picked up by any pitying passersby. I could not take care of him…

“I have an identical ring, by which I hope to recognize my son. His ring would hold my wife’ and my name, while I am wearing the date of our wedding on my finger.” Twisting off his ringlet of gold, Louis continued” but he might as well be… I have searched for him so long with no results…”

Happy New Year, everybody!!!

 

My New Year’s resolutions are ( at least some of them):

1. Have a deeper, intimate relationship with my Savior
2. Develop lasting friendships with other good Christian girls
3. Write at least 750 words a day

Wish you all a prosperous, God-filled, God-blessed, great 2017!!!

Do you have any New Year resolutions that you would like to share?

 

Love, Odelia

 

 

Deceived

I thought you were true;

That you meant what you said.

I truly believed you……

You said you would be back.

You gave me a locket: “To remember me by”:

I gave you my heart, and everything inside.

We stood together under the maple tree:

Above us hung the question: To be or not to be?

We said our goodbyes –

You with a smile; tears were in my eyes.

You left me with a parting clasp,

And whispered gently, “I will be back.”

How did this start? A glace from your eyes

That filled me with a joyful surprise;

Each time our eyes met – it was like fire –

I lived from one visit to another.

But I was too innocent- too naïve

To notice the subtle change

In your actions, words, and eyes-

Every tender word of affection was a lie.

I never thought that you would trick me-

Thought we would ask our parents and marry-

Never thought another had taken my place-

Never thought, never imagined- never knew…..

I waited for you as the years passed by:

My tears with the seasons multiplied.

I longed for you- all the while living on a lie

I never imagined you had another girl by your side.

You sent me letters, professing love

Thinking that your words were enough

To heal the pain of our parting-

When you were gone, I felt I lost everything.

Before you went away,

You took me somewhere every pleasant day.

To the park, the flower gardens – wherever-

You told you’ll love me for ever.

The day before you departed,

You said you will never forget –

Never forget me, ever –

Little did I know our ties of love were completely severed.

Slowly the truth dawned on me,

-As your letters grew shorter and colder quickly-

That while I pined away for you,

I had been out of your mind for good.

The day that long awaited letter arrived,

I was up before the morning, with hope energized,

Hoping against hope that you would change your mind-

I returned from the mailbox with a very painful sigh.

Inside a forlorn strip of paper,

Were words which changed my love for you forever-

“You need not write to me again. Ever.

I have been wedded to another.”

 

Was she younger, more beautiful, more someone-from-above

Than ever I would be?

Was her parents more wealthy, the table spread more lavishly,

Than any dinners I had prepared with love?

Anguish tore my mind for weeks,

Like a lily being tormented by weeds,

While you, who had deceived me,

Was enjoying your life wildly.

So, Tom, where ever you are,

Whenever you look upon a star,

Remember, in your life, you had extinguished a light

That once for you burned very bright