Heathersleigh Homecoming (30 page)

 55 
Unpleasant Reflections

The night was late.

Amanda lay in her bed awake. She was more irritated than ever and ill at ease. Many confusing and conflicting thoughts were spinning through her brain.

They probably planned the whole thing
, she thought. Why had everyone around here suddenly turned against her!

Her resolve of a few months earlier to get away from Ramsay and seek refuge at home was all but forgotten. The danger past, old annoyances had resurfaced and were quickly regaining the upper hand.

Independence
 . . . why was everyone talking about that all of a sudden!

What was wrong with being independent anyway? What did they expect, for people to remain little children all their lives? It was ridiculous! Everyone had to grow up and get out from under their parents' thumb sometime!

All that nonsense Sister Gretchen said about going back home—it was absurd. She would
never
do something like that!

Suddenly in the midst of her reflections, Amanda awoke to the thought
Where was her home?
as she faced again the horrifying fact that she was married.

The reminder sent a throb of physical nausea through her body. She felt herself gag momentarily. She had almost forgotten! It was like a bad dream. There were times she almost managed to convince herself it had all never happened.

But it had! She was no longer Amanda Rutherford at all but Amanda Halifax! The very idea was revolting. It made her so sick she wanted to die.

What was she going to do? She couldn't return to Ramsay! She could never do that either.

What
was
she going to do?

If only she had listened to her father's cautions, she thought, drowsiness gradually coming over her. Maybe she
was
like Robinson Crusoe. The words came back into her mind from the story in Sister Gretchen's voice—“
if he ever goes abroad, he will be the most miserable wretch that ever was born.”

That was her, she thought sadly and sleepily—a miserable wretch.

Amanda felt herself starting to cry. Quickly she took a deep breath and stopped it. She wasn't ready to collapse. It was still her father's fault for landing her in this fix in the first place!

If only, she thought again as she had so many times, she might awake in the morning and find that it all had been a bad dream.

She closed her eyes and slowly drifted off.

Hazy images of the Devonshire countryside floated like clouds into her dreams. Something was chasing her . . . someone . . . she was running, looking back. She was trying to get to Heathersleigh before they caught her. She had to get home . . . her mother and father would help her. They would know what to do. They would protect her, hide her from the danger. She looked back again. Terror seized her. She tried to scream. But her lips were silent. The great stone Hall of her childhood was just ahead. On she ran. At last she found her voice . . .
Mummy, Daddy!
she cried as she went,
Help me
. She reached the door. It was locked! She glanced back again. Now she saw Ramsay's face, clearly now, an evil grin of triumph on his face.
“I have found you at last!”
he shouted.
“You are mine again, Amanda . . . mine . . . mine. You will
never leave me again . . . never again.”
She screamed in terrible panic and turned back and began pounding for dear life on the door . . . pounding for anyone to hear . . . anyone to help her.
Help, help!
she cried. Another frightened glance behind her . . . Ramsay was to the top of the drive now and coming for her. He carried a rope . . . he was going to tie her up and drag her away! Desperately she pounded. But the Hall was empty and silent. She heard the echoes of her knocks inside, but there was no one to open the door. They had waited and waited for her return, but finally could wait no longer. Now they had gone . . . they were all gone. There was no one to help her . . . she had waited too long . . . and now the Hall was silent and empty as a tomb.
Mummy . . . Daddy . . . please—help me!
But there was no one to hear her plea, no one to help . . . for she
was alone . . . alone . . . alone. . . . Behind her Ramsay came closer, his menacing footsteps crunching on the gravel. . . .

Still whimpering and with the words
Mummy
and
Daddy
on her lips, Amanda suddenly awoke. She found herself cold, sweating, and breathing heavily in the blackness of a wintry night among the Alps of Switzerland.

Unconsciously—heart still pounding as if her knocking on Heathersleigh's door had become the beating within her chest, and with weird images of both dream and Sister Galiana's calf mingling in her confused brain—she glanced toward the window, almost expecting to see Ramsay's face leering inside at her.

But it had only been a nightmare. She began to breathe more easily.

For now she was safe . . . but she felt more desolate and alone than ever.

 56 
Bold Confrontation

Sister Hope awoke early.

Almost the same instant she was at her bedside on her knees praying for Amanda. The moment she awoke she knew what she had to do, and she knew that today was the day.

“Lord, do I
have
to?” she argued as she prayed. “It is so unpleasant to have to speak to people about their weakness.”

“That is why I sent her to you,” she felt the Spirit reply.

“But I get weary of being the one.”

“Did you not pray to be used in people's lives?” came the Spirit's soft voice again. “Now you ask not to use the gift I gave in answer to your own prayer.”

“But it is a painful gift.”

“The girl's heart requires surgery. Prodigals need friends who will speak the truth, not justify their rebellion.”

“But, Lord . . .”

“I want you to be Amanda's friend.”

“But, Lord, it is
so
hard.”

“Do you love her?”

“You know I do.”

“Do you want what is best for her?”

“You know it, Lord.”

“Then you must speak. You must fulfill the role of the prodigal's friend.”

After breakfast on the morning following the second Crusoe reading, Sister Hope found Amanda alone in the sitting room. The other sisters had quietly dispersed. They sensed that the crossroads time which inevitably came for many of their guests had now arrived for Amanda.

“You seemed quiet last evening, Amanda,” Hope said, sitting down opposite her. “I might even say you seemed annoyed with us.”

“I'm getting sick of all this talk about independence, that's all,” Amanda replied grumpily. “Why is everybody picking on me all of a sudden?”

“I didn't realize we were.”

Amanda tried to laugh, but the sound which came out was more a perturbed grunt.

“I would say it's rather obvious,” she said. “Sister Gretchen with her ridiculous story, trying to make me think
she
was rebellious. I don't know if I believe a word of it.”

“You didn't know her back then. She was stubborn as could be. If anything, she downplayed that element of her story. She is greatly changed.”

Amanda was silent.

“What do you think, Amanda, that she would make it all up just to irritate you?”

Amanda shrugged.

“We talk, we share, we are open and honest with one another,” Hope went on. “You have seen that. If the Lord wants to accomplish a work within one of us, we want to get to the bottom of it.”

It was silent a moment or two.

“How can you be so sure I am full of these things you're all talking about?” said Amanda finally. “Listening to all of you, you'd think I was Robinson Crusoe himself.”

“Did any of the sisters hint at such a thing?”

“I'm not like Robinson Crusoe,” Amanda said, ignoring the question. “I never went off to some ridiculous desert island!”

“I shall ask you a question, Amanda,” Hope said. “There is a simple test to see if the spirit of young Robinson Crusoe sits on the seat of your will . . . or if you prefer, call it the spirit of Gretchen Reinhardt before she decided to change it. I asked Sister Gretchen this same question the summer she spent here away from her job. Oh my, did she fume. So, Amanda dear, I am not, as you say, picking on you. I am asking you the same thing I asked her, and the same thing I often ask myself.

“Here is the test—how do you make decisions in your life? Do you automatically do whatever
you
want to do, or do you consult someone else? For example, do you say to one who is above you,
What would YOU have me to do
?”

“Who are you to ask me such a question?” said Amanda. “Have you set yourself up as my judge and jury?”

“I do not judge you, Amanda. I love you. I offer these words in prayerful hope that they will bring you understanding.”

A noise something like
humph
sounded from Amanda's mouth.

“Did you ever say this to your father, Amanda, or to God?” Hope persisted. “Whenever it was that you left home, Amanda, did you say to father or mother,
What do YOU think it is best for me to do
?”

“What does it matter? It was all so long ago,” said Amanda irritably. “Maybe I don't feel like answering your silly question.”

“Nothing else matters so much, Amanda,” rejoined Hope. “Amanda dear,
laying down
the right of self-rule is the business of life—the
only
business of life. To learn this one lesson is what we are here for. It is what our Lord came to teach us. Of course in the natural we seek our
own
will. But to train ourselves in opposition to this natural tendency is why we have been given a certain number of years on this earth. There is no other thing in life that matters than to learn to say,
Be it unto me, Father, according to YOUR will
.”

There was another pause of silence.

“I believe this is why God sent you here,” Hope continued. “We all need help, Amanda dear. Humble yourself and let us help you learn this important truth.”

“Stop!” Amanda suddenly cried, rising to her feet. “I won't listen to any more.
Independence . . . independence
 . . . ask everyone else what to do! Can't any of you make up your own minds about anything! You don't give a person an inch to breathe, do you!”

“I heard Mr. Spurgeon say long ago,” replied Hope calmly but seriously, “‘Men do not get better if left alone. It is with them as with a garden. If you let it alone and permit weeds to grow, you will not expect to find it better in six months—but worse.'”

“I am no garden!” snapped Amanda.

“Perhaps you are, Amanda,” rejoined Hope calmly. “And there are weeds growing in your heart. To yank them out may cause pain. But better that than let them take over the whole garden.”

Amanda was silenced again briefly, but anger was visible enough in her red cheeks.

“Why were you so tender and loving to Kasmira?” she said after a moment. “She wasn't even a Christian, but you are as nice as can
be to her. I haven't heard you say anything like this to her. And now you talk to me like this!”

“Kasmira came to us lonely, confused, aching from loss of her husband, and knowing nothing about her heavenly Father. But you
should
know about him, Amanda. You do not need what she needed. You do not need to be coddled, you need to repent of bad attitudes. Some of your weeds have been growing a long time. They are weeds that will destroy you unless you root them out—the weeds of pride, rebellion, and unforgiveness.”

“I don't have to listen to any more of this!” said Amanda.

“You will have to listen sometime,” Hope said, her voice now taking on the tone of command.

“You're talking to me like I'm a little girl. I'm twenty-four years old!”

“That is not so old. In some ways, you are but a child, Amanda. It is only children who still think they have a right to self-rule. Grown-ups know better.”

“So you
are
calling me a child!”

“Yes, but you can become a daughter. An obedient daughter of God.”

“Who wants to be!”

“I do,” said Hope. “In your deepest heart I think you do too.”

“What do you know about my deepest heart!”

“I know that as a woman the highest privilege of that heart is to allow God to make a true daughter of you.”

“Maybe I don't care! Maybe I have the right to make up my own mind, to make my own choices.”

“The only right you have is to
lay down
the right of rule in your life. That is the only right any of us have. What we call our rights are illusions, Amanda. They do not exist. That is what childhood is for, to teach us how to lay down what we imagine is our right to independence, so that we will be capable of stepping into the greater freedom God wants to give. Without laying down the one, we can never enter into the other. Sadly, Amanda, it appears that you did not learn this lesson from your own childhood.”

“Well, maybe that's too bad for me! I'm not a child anymore, so I suppose it's just too late!”

“It's never too late, Amanda. We
must
learn it. Otherwise we will never be our true selves. If you refuse to learn it, then a crisis lies
ahead. When the battle will come, I cannot say. But come it will. For this purpose was the Son of God born, and for this purpose did he die—to save men's wills from self-rule, and to show us how the Self might be yielded to God's highest will.”

Amanda walked to the window, turning her back as Sister Hope continued.

“That's what following God is—taking his will for our own,” she said. “There is an independence into which we must all grow that is part of the maturing process. But the independence that is making you miserable, Amanda dear, is something else, and is nothing but pride. Every prodigal has to go home eventually. As was the case with Sister Gretchen—”

“I'm not a prodigal!” shouted Amanda, spinning around.

“It may be painful to admit, but that is exactly what you are.”

“What gives you the right to preach to me!”

“What gives me the right is that I love you, Amanda. I want the best for you.”

“It is hardly the kind of love I care about. If this is what you call love around here, then I think it is time for me to leave!”

Amanda turned from the window and left the room.

No one saw her the rest of the afternoon. She did not appear for supper.