A New Dawn Over Devon (24 page)

 37 
Discovery

Panting for breath, Amanda burst into the east sitting room, where she entered by the side door. Jocelyn glanced up. A sudden fear seized her heart.

“What is it, Amanda!” said Jocelyn, beginning to rise. “Is Maggie—”

“No, she's fine, Mother,” said Amanda, dashing through the room.

“But what—”

“I'm going to the tower! Where's Catharine?”

Two minutes later, still breathing hard, Amanda stood in the familiar tower, the footsteps of her mother and sister echoing from the stone stairway behind her. When Catharine ran through the door a few seconds later, Amanda was stooped over, fumbling with frantic fingers at the loose stone in front of the tiny recessed chamber where Geoffrey had long ago discovered the key ring.

“Amanda, what—”

“The keys, Catharine! I think I know—”

The stone fell to the floor. Amanda grabbed the key ring off the iron hook in the recess with its two keys. By the time her mother reached the tower a few seconds later, Amanda was disappearing through the wall of the opposite side into the hidden maze of corridors.

“Catharine, do you know—” began Jocelyn.

“I know nothing, Mother,” replied Catharine. “I just saw her grab the two keys, open the hidden door with the one, then run through it.”

Again mother and sister hurried after Amanda.

“Amanda . . . where are you going?” yelled Catharine into the maze after her.

“. . . the library!” were the only words Catharine heard echoing back through the blackness.

When Catharine and Jocelyn reached the library two minutes later, they found Amanda standing in front of the ancient cabinet that had been there longer than any of them could remember.

“What is it, Amanda?” asked Jocelyn, hurrying up beside her.

“All these years we have known that Maggie's great-grandfather built both this secretary and the one at the cottage,” she answered. “Yet even after Maggie showed us the hidden panel in hers a few months ago, I never made the connection.”

“What connection?” asked Jocelyn.

Amanda showed them the key ring she had taken from the tower.

“This,” she said, “—the small mystery key! We knew the larger of the two opened the door George discovered in the wall of the tower. But this tiny one—”

“Looks exactly like the key Maggie found in the drawer of her secretary!” exclaimed Catharine.

All three now approached the cabinet built by Webley Kyrkwode for Broughton Rutherford.

Amanda pulled down the lid, revealing an open secretary-desk just like Maggie's—with, as she thought, the drawers, cubbyholes, and rear panel exactly reversed. Slowly Amanda pulled out the drawer above the ornate rear panel. She took it all the way out, as she had seen Maggie do, set it aside, then reached inside the drawer space with her hand, probing with her fingers.

Jocelyn and Catharine saw her eyes widen and knew she had found something.

“Hand me the key, Catharine,” she said.

Catharine did so. Amanda again reached into the space and, with some effort, inserted the key into the locking mechanism she had discovered. Just like with Maggie's cabinet, the vertical panel gave way and swiveled toward her on its invisible pivot. Upon the shelf that was revealed sat, not a deed this time, but a large and ornately bound book.

“The family Bible!” exclaimed all three women nearly at once.

Amanda took it in her two hands, brought it forward, and set it on the desk.

“It has been here all this time right in front of us,” she said, “and we never knew it.”

Jocelyn leaned forward and opened the cover board, then began thumbing through it slowly and reverently.

“Oh, how I wish Charles and George could be here for this,” she said.

“Maybe they are,” Catharine added.

 38 
Preparations

The scene at the Chalet of Hope was nearly as full of expectancy and excitement as if a guest were coming rather than that Sister Hope was leaving.

Hope herself was both nervous and excited, bustling about, packing, trying to remember everything, and struggling most of all not to cry.

London was the last place she would have chosen to go. It represented so many shattered dreams in her life—dreams of a happy childhood, dreams of the mission work, dreams of a long marriage, dreams of a family. All these lay on an altar somewhere in England.

Part of her feared that God might require her to once again lay another dream on yet another altar. But what could it be? And who was she to question it if God should demand a sacrifice of her? Wasn't he always good and generous?

Listen to me
, she thought to herself.
I believe that God is good. Why should I fear any gift from him?

Behind her, Gretchen entered the room with some fresh laundry.

“Gretchen, have you seen my blue dress?” asked Hope, trying to banish the anxious thoughts from her mind.

“I have it right here. Are you almost ready?”

“I think so . . . but I cannot help being nervous!”

“You will have a good time. The Lord will be with you, and we will be with you in prayer and spirit. You know that the Lord is calling you back to England. He has something there for you.”

“I know, and I am excited too . . . but a little afraid.”

“Of the war?”

“I don't think it is that so much.”

“Afraid of what, then?” said Gretchen, setting down her armload on the bed.

“Every time I left London,” replied Hope, “it was with the hope that I would never return. I left once for Birmingham, then again for New Zealand, then yet again for Switzerland. All these happy years here I never thought I would go back. I never
wanted
to go back. Now here I am preparing to go to London again. As I said, I cannot help being a little afraid.”

Hope smiled. “But at least this time I know that it is just for a visit,” she added, “and that I will return. That makes the parting bearable. I will soon be home again with my wonderful family of sisters.”

Hope turned and gave her friend a long hug, trying to hide the lingering pang that had come to her heart with the last words she had spoken. She only hoped they were true, and that she
did
come back soon.

Meanwhile, in Sister Galiana's room, preparations of a more secretive nature were under way. Galiana was making a card for each of them to sign and was busy at the moment creating a beautiful likeness of the chalet with their beloved mountains in the background.

“How do you do it?” said Sister Anika. “That is beautiful enough to frame!”

Below, Sister Marjolaine was at that moment sneaking into the house with a brown paper parcel in her hand. She hurried on tiptoe up the stairs and glanced about for sign of Sister Hope. Hearing her and Sister Gretchen down the hall, she crept into Galiana's room and closed the door behind her. Several busy heads turned toward her.

“I've borrowed the most delightful book from Herr Buchmann,” she said excitedly in her characteristic high-pitched voice. “It is filled with wonderful short stories that take place in the Alps. That way Sister Hope will be able to read for a bit as the mood strikes her rather than read an entire book.”

“I wish Herr Buchmann would write
his
story,” said Sister Agatha. “What a book that would make.”

“Perhaps one of us will have to write it for him,” suggested Sister Marjolaine as she began to unwrap the book so that she could wrap it again in colored paper. She also planned to add some Alpine flowers she had pressed between its pages. “I don't think he has any idea how much people would enjoy it. Why don't you write it, Sister Agatha?”

“I could never write a book!” she exclaimed.

“Just let him tell you the story and then write it down in his own words.”

“Right now I am too busy with my package for Sister Hope to think about such things,” she answered. “See, I filled a little lace bag with small hard candies. I know that a train ride can get very long and one's mouth gets dry. I want her to have something sweet to keep in her mouth.”

“It is lovely. She will enjoy it very much.”

“This was such a wonderful idea of yours, Sister Agatha,” said Sister Luane. “She is going to be so surprised when she opens her bag and finds gifts from each one of us.”

“What are you putting in, Luane?”

An embarrassed look came over her face.

“I've written a little story,” she said shyly, “about our chalet . . . and about us.”

“How wonderful! May we read it?”

“Not now—I would be too embarrassed. I want to give it to Sister Hope to remember us all when she is away.”

“Perhaps
you
are the one to write Herr Buchmann's story,” said Sister Marjolaine.

Sister Clariss walked into the room and placed a small packet of handkerchiefs tied with a yellow ribbon on Sister Galiana's bed, and the enthusiastic discussion continued.

Throughout the day the surprise parcel continued to grow, with homemade sweet biscuits, dried fruit and raisins, and more handmade notes and cards.

Later in the afternoon Sister Galiana found Sister Gretchen alone in the kitchen.

“What will you be hiding in Sister Hope's satchel?” she asked.

“I have written out several Scripture passages on little pieces of colored paper,” Gretchen answered. “I am rolling each one up and
tying them with ribbon. I plan to fill up a little paper box with them, and on the top I will write, ‘Open and unroll one of these little treasures whenever you are feeling tired or lonely.'”

“That is a wonderful idea,” said Galiana. “I think we will have Sister Hope's bag so full of unexpected treats and gifts that it will take her all the way to England to find them all.”

Kasmira had been watching the preparations for several days without saying anything. Gradually Sister Hope noticed that the young Muslim believer had become more withdrawn and anxious, and less like her new peaceful self.

“What is it, Kasmira?” she asked finally as they passed in the upstairs hallway later that same day.

Kasmira dropped her eyes.

“Will you go outdoors with me?” she said softly.

“Of course,” nodded Hope.

They walked downstairs and out the door together, and made their way silently around to the front of the chalet near where the crèche was set up at Christmas. It was Kasmira's favorite place, and she often came here to reflect and pray.

“I live with war all my life,” Kasmira began at length in her thick accent. Her words were still soft. “Each moment around me was danger and fear. But here I have peace and safety. . . .”

Her voice began to quiver as she glanced up into Sister Hope's eyes.

“I have fear for you . . . if—”

Kasmira began to cry.

Hope took her in her arms and pulled her close.

“I will be in our Lord's hands all the way,” she said tenderly. “God is my good Father, and we have nothing to fear. I will be back with you before you know it.”