2,99 €
Mehr erfahren.
- Herausgeber: Christine Dillon
- Kategorie: Religion und Spiritualität
- Sprache: Englisch
Instead of a wedding, Esther is facing radical surgery and chemotherapy. Where is God when she needs him most?
Esther is a people pleaser. It’s never been a major problem because she’s just gone with the flow. Her father has always preached, “Follow Jesus and you’ll be blessed.” And up until age twenty-eight, Esther has never had any reason to doubt it.
Will she appease her father? Or will she listen to the words of a stranger who challenges everything she believes?
Grace in Strange Disguise is a soul-stirring contemporary Christian novel. Book 1 in the
Grace series.
If you like compelling Christian fiction, relatable characters and real emotion, then you’ll love Christine Dillon’s inspiring series.
Available in print, audio, ebook and as part of a box set (ebook only).
Das E-Book können Sie in Legimi-Apps oder einer beliebigen App lesen, die das folgende Format unterstützen:
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019
Ähnliche
Grace in Strange Disguise
Book 1
Christine Dillon
Links in the Chain Press
www.storytellerchristine.com
Grace in Strange Disguise
Copyright © 2017 by Christine Dillon
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for brief quotations in a book review.
All Scripture quotations, are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright ©1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com The “NIV” and “New International Version” are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or events is purely coincidental. The characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes.
Cover Design: Lankshear Design.
ISBN: 978-0-648-12961-5
Find out more …
With grateful thanks to my Saviour and King.
Many years ago, your word gave me life, and started me
on a new journey. Now you’ve led me (sorry for the kicking and screaming) into writing fiction. Thank you for providing your strength at every stage.
This is my ‘first fruits’ offering. Use this book for your glory.
Contents
Note to readers
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Book 2 in the Grace series
Prologue (Grace in the Shadows)
Storyteller Friends
Also by Christine Dillon
Enjoyed Grace in Strange Disguise?
Bible Storytelling
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Note to readers
• Our worldview is how we make sense of the world. It’s like a pair of glasses through which we view, and more importantly, interpret the world. Worldview is formed by our past experiences, the things we’re taught by parents, schools and life in general. It is also strongly influenced by our culture and the time in which we live.
• The job of a novelist is to show you the worldview of the characters in the book whether it be ‘humanist’ or ‘Hindu’ or ‘communist’ or, in this book, Christian. If you’re not a Christian the views expressed by the characters might appear strange BUT it’s a great opportunity. Why? Because Esther’s story allows you, if you’re not yet a follower of Jesus, to stand outside and see things from a perspective totally different to your own. It also allows you to see how Esther’s worldview changes. Is her new view consistent and does it make sense of the challenges in her life?
• Please note that this novel is based in 1995. Mobile phones were not commonly used back then. Hence, the use of phones and pagers (in hospitals), rather than mobile phones. Also, letters and notes, rather than email or messaging.
• Since this is an Australian novel, the spelling and grammar mostly follows Australian conventions.
Prologue
“You have cancer.”
Acid surged in Esther’s throat. No, no, no, no, no. Impossible. William Macdonald’s daughter couldn’t have cancer. Esther wrapped her arms around her stomach. The nausea reminded her of that horrible day she’d taken her first rollercoaster ride as an eight-year-old. The car had chugged slowly, slowly, slowly to the crest of the ride, then plunged down, down, down. She’d been unable to escape, unable to do anything but hang on, knuckles white, and try not to throw up.
The doctor was still talking, but Esther’s brain was stuck on those three short words. Thirteen fateful letters. Meaningless on their own, but strung together. Cannonballs. Cannonballs, punching ragged holes in her life.
She was only twenty-eight. How could she have cancer? This wasn’t what she’d been promised. Or, what she’d been raised to expect. Hadn’t her father always preached that those who have faith would be protected from the problems that plague other people?
She’d taken the tests the doctor had ordered ten days ago, but only because that was expected of her. She hadn’t anticipated anything would be wrong. Not this wrong. And if there was something wrong, surely God would cure her. Wasn’t that his job?
You have cancer.
Three stark words.
No more fantasies of health. No more hiding. No more false hope.
Cancer.
There was no escape. No way out. Just like on the rollercoaster. The only option was to hang on for the ride, and hope she’d survive.
1
EIGHT MONTHS EARLIER
November, 1994
Sydney, Australia
Esther had been running late all morning. No time to dawdle or daydream, and no time before the weekly staff meeting to do anything but park her car in front of the cluster of sprawling white cottages housing the physiotherapy department. A stark contrast to the modern mirror-glass buildings surrounding the hospital.
Esther locked her car and rushed towards her workplace, hoping she hadn’t dropped her diary nor forgotten her lunch.
She stopped at the door. Rearranged her blouse. Dabbed the sweat on her upper lip.
The building was quiet. Too quiet. No familiar clatter of therapists preparing for the day, no opening and closing of drawers, no cubicle curtains whizzing wide, no voices exchanging morning greetings.
Had she messed up and arrived early? She checked her watch. No, the time and date were correct. She gently touched the door. It swung open with a slight squeak. Silence.
Strange. More than strange.
Esther took five steps into the room, shoes tapping on the polished wooden boards. Perhaps she should tiptoe. Or stop breathing.
“Surprise!”
Shoes stomped, toy trumpets tooted, party streamers popped. A cacophony of cheering, clapping and congratulations. At the far end of the room was a banner, blazoned gold on blue. Close to the banner stood a stranger with an impressive camera. Why the celebration? It wasn’t her birthday.
Her boss, Sue, came towards her, arm outstretched in welcome. “You should see your face.”
“Sue, what’s going on?” Esther’s cheeks flushed. After a lifetime of being on show, she never liked being the centre of attention.
“I nominated you, ‘Hospital Employee of the Year’. And you won. First time ever, for a physiotherapist.”
Now Esther understood. Not only was she the first non-doctor to win in, what was it—ten years? But the prize also came with a $100,000 cheque for the winner’s department. Sue was probably already planning how she’d spend the money.
Sue clapped her hands for attention. “Sorry to rush this. We’ll have our usual staff meeting in a moment.”
Esther’s knees shook but she must smile. This was a big deal for Sue.
“Esther has been at this hospital since she graduated. Her clients love her and so do we.”
Other therapists nodded.
“She’s a team player. She pitches in whenever and wherever we’re short-staffed. Always quick to encourage others. Always ready to do the less glamorous jobs to keep this department functioning smoothly.”
Esther wanted to shuffle her feet at the stream of compliments, but she controlled herself. She avoided looking at her colleagues so she wouldn’t blush under everyone’s scrutiny.
“In addition, she has initiated practical research that has made this department proud. Her example inspires others.”
Sue was focusing on the physiotherapy side of things, but Esther suspected running the annual hospital fete was the clincher. No one else had wanted the unpaid task that consumed so much time. This year’s fete had raised more money than ever before. The cynic in her guessed the hospital hoped this award would make her feel obligated to organise the event for years to come. Would five years work off her debt?
“We’re privileged to have Mr Ron Scott, the hospital director, here to present the cheque,” Sue said. “And lucky Esther wins a weekend for two at the historic Hydro Majestic Hotel in the Blue Mountains.”
Esther walked forward to the applause of her workmates, shook hands with Ron Scott and accepted the oversized presentation-style cheque. She couldn’t stifle a feeling of triumph as they posed together for photographs. What would Dad say? He’d opposed her choice to be a physiotherapist. He’d championed a ‘real’ medical career, but Esther hadn’t wanted all the pressure. She’d wanted time to volunteer at church, and volunteering required regular work hours. Maybe this award would placate him for her first act of rebellion, something he still seemed to resent.
“Speech, speech,” called her workmates.
They wouldn’t want her to waffle. “First, thanks to Sue for having the audacity to submit a physiotherapist’s name for this award.” Esther was popular at work but it was still encouraging to see her workmates smile and nod. “And thanks to all of you. I love working here with such competent and enthusiastic colleagues. This award belongs to all of us. Thanks for allowing me to be part of your team.”
Her colleagues clapped and Sue flashed her a grateful look. The hospital director shook her hand one more time, then left, and Sue brought the meeting to order.
There weren’t many announcements, so the meeting was soon over and everyone could get going with their appointments. Esther turned to leave.
“Esther.” It was Sue. “Can you walk with me back to my office? There’s something I need to run past you.”
A flicker of anxiety caught in Esther’s throat, the same anxiety she used to feel whenever she’d been summoned to the school principal’s office. Not that she’d ever had a reason to fear, but the fear had always been there. Was it a fear of failure? Of rejection? Or simply the fear of not pleasing somebody? Surely there was no need to be nervous.
The two women entered the sun-filled office, and Sue waved Esther towards a seat.
“This’ll only take a moment. I’m delighted you won. I only have one problem—”
That flicker of anxiety returned, along with faint nausea. Had she done something wrong?
“—You won’t let me promote you.”
Esther’s shoulders relaxed, and she let out a shaky breath. She should have noticed the twinkle in Sue’s eye. This was a conversation they’d had several times before. A promotion would mean more administrative work and less of the direct client contact she loved.
“But I think I’ve come up with a solution that allows you to keep your client contact. I’ve talked to the board, and they suggested I offer you a Grade Two post, on the condition that you do extra mentoring of junior employees. You already do this, so you won’t be any busier. What do you say? Will you accept a Grade Two position with matching salary?”
“On those terms, how can I refuse?”
The window behind Sue showed an incredible day outside, glorious and golden. And now this. An award, a paid holiday, and a promotion. Esther wanted to caper around like a small child, bouncing and anxious to tell her father and her boyfriend, Nick, about her day. They would both see these things as sure signs of God’s abundant blessings.
2
The alarm jerked Esther awake on Saturday morning. She groaned, rolled over and hit the alarm’s stop button.
Five a.m.
Her body longed for more sleep, but today was a day worth getting up for. She and Nick seldom had a whole Saturday together, and today they did. They were going to the Blue Mountains. She swung out of bed, and donned the top-of-the-line hiking gear she’d draped over her chair the night before.
She grabbed a quick breakfast of gourmet muesli with banana and yoghurt. Lunch had been prepared last night—roast chicken, home-made bread, avocado salad, crackers, a selection of cheeses and fruit, plus plenty of snacks. She placed the lunch in her day pack along with plenty of water and the numerous necessities for a day’s hike, then headed out to wait for Nick in the hushed, dewy predawn.
Esther rubbed her chilled arms and jogged on the spot, her stomach fluttering. There was something special about being up before anyone else. Mature plane trees lined both sides of the street, creating a tunnel of shifting shadow. Their mottled ivory trunks gleamed in the street lights. Through their spindly branches, the last stars dusted the sky like diamond icing sugar.
Behind the imposing gates and fences were the mansion-like houses of the wealthy. Houses where ride-on mowers and part-time gardeners weren’t unusual. Houses known by name and not merely by numbers. Some of Esther’s friends thought her weird, to still live at home. But paying expenses to her parents beat paying rent, and allowed her to save money for her own home.
Nick arrived on time—unusual for him. He unfolded himself from the car and came around to kiss her cheek. “Hope you haven’t been waiting too long.” He opened her car door, and gave Esther time to get settled. These old-fashioned manners were one of the things Esther loved about Nick.
With such an early start, they’d reach the starting point for their hike within a couple of hours. As they drove, the sky turned a pearly grey, and the stars disappeared along with the streetlights. Behind the car, the golden glow of the sunrise painted colour back into the waiting grey world. They soon turned onto the highway which would take them to the foot of the mountains.
“Finally—decent weather,” he said. “Can’t believe rain ruined every Saturday last month.”
“The news report promised a perfect day. The announcer even mentioned perfect for camping.” Like the weekend they’d first met.
“You’re not going to bring that up again?” Nick glanced across at her with a grin.
“You mean the way you tripped over my guy rope and collapsed my tent on top of me with both our youth groups watching?” Esther gave a wicked smile. “They certainly got a lesson on how to gain a lady’s attention.”
Nick wriggled his eyebrows, a party trick that always made Esther giggle. “Smooth move, eh?”
Esther snorted. “The speed with which you ferreted out my name and phone number impressed me more.”
“And here we are, two years later.”
“Yep. Once Dad spotted you, he seemed more enamoured with you than I was. I can’t believe he hired you a month afterwards.”
“Maybe he has good taste.” Nick wriggled his eyebrows again. “You can’t blame me for being flattered. It’s not every day a nobody is poached by the second-biggest church in Sydney.”
“Not second for long. Dad sees you as vital to his strategy to become the biggest church in Sydney.” Esther stretched out the next words as though she was an advertiser. “The colossal church in the city, his magnificent megachurch.”
Nick chuckled. “If anyone will do it, he will.”
Esther had known her father would like Nick, but she hadn’t been prepared for how much. Her father constantly talked about how Nick hadn’t let his father’s death, when Nick was seventeen, prevent him from going places. Why did Dad keep pushing Nick at her? Didn’t he know matchmakers were well and truly out of fashion? The one good thing was that at last she had a boyfriend that her father approved of. More than approved. Her father was a huge influence in Nick’s life. Nick practically lived at their place.
Esther reached across and placed her hand on Nick’s shoulder. They had plenty in common. Hiking and horse riding. Cycling and camping. Swimming and swing dancing. Active at church—probably too active. A model couple.
Sometimes she wished they could just be Nick and Esther. Physiotherapist and youth worker, or even a store manager. Like he’d been before. Normal.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Nick said.
“Do you ever wish you’d stayed at your old church, where you were the youth worker in your spare time?”
Nick scratched the side of his nose. “It might have been simpler in those days, but it was also more of a struggle. At Victory, if I want something, resources appear. There are leaders and volunteers for anything I want to do.” He glanced across at her. “Victory is a youth worker’s dream.”
Esther looked out of the window. The houses had been replaced by bushland. “I can see that, but there must be downsides.”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t you ever struggle with always being on show? Or with—I don’t know—the busyness. The demands on your time.” Nick drummed his fingers on the wheel, his habit when he wanted to change the topic.
“Hasn’t bothered me so far.” He shrugged. “I mean, I wanted to do this, and I’m studying theology, which is awesome. It’s meaningful, you know?” He stopped as though musing on the last thought. “World-changing. At least, more than before, when I was just working to support my mother and brothers.”
Esther didn’t rejoice in Nick’s hardships but if he hadn’t been supporting his family, he’d probably have married years ago.
Nick patted the dashboard of the car. “At least I no longer drive an old bomb. This car was the first perk of the job.”
Now the road twisted and turned. Around every corner, Esther caught sight of islands of rock, floating on surging seas of mist. Or metamorphosing into blurred, bulbous beasts.
They sped past the main towns and finally approached their destination. The last small town stirred with Saturday life. Nick turned right. The corner café had just opened, and a woman in a crisp white apron positioned the menu board on the footpath. Two minutes later, their car passed an elderly man shuffling back to his house in a dressing gown and ugg boots, with a paper under his arm. Smoke puffed lazily from chimneys and drifted in the chilly air.
Leaving the houses behind, they drove down the final stretch of road into the national park. The trees hung over the road, and screeching parrots darted across the gap. Nick swung the car into the deserted car park. Esther stretched her cramped limbs and added an extra layer of clothing. Together they walked over to one of the most famous lookouts in the Blue Mountains. The valley bowl was filled to the brim with mist, the valley floor invisible.
Esther shivered and drew her coat tighter. She and Nick found a place on the edge of the viewing platform and sat together, in companionable silence, sipping hot tea from the first of two thermoses Esther had prepared. They awaited the coming transformation.
As the sun strengthened, the mist started to rise. A cool breeze sprang up, blowing wisps of mist hither and thither, beading their clothes with moisture. Transient rents in the white fluffiness hinted at the valley, far below. The mist lifted and dissipated faster and faster, leaving only isolated pockets lingering in damp hollows. Now the tree-filled valleys were revealed, encircling the soaring cliffs with a grey-green collar. The sandstone glowed pale yellow.
They continued to soak in the silence, broken only by the moisture dripping from the trees and the melodic burbling of hidden birds.
Twenty minutes later, Nick stood and stretched. “We’d better get going. If we wait any longer, it will be too hot coming back up.”
Esther groaned. “I always wish this walk could be done in reverse. It seems wrong to have the easy part first, then have to work hard coming up later.”
“Come on, lazy.” Nick pulled her to her feet. “We’re fit enough, so it won’t be a problem.”
As they made their way down the irregular timber and stone steps, they stopped often to visually track the whirring wings of birds or peer at plants. Clumps of cream flannel flowers with their olive-green tips were scattered along the path, so soft that Esther kept reaching out to stroke them. Their boots squelched in wet patches or crunched along the dryer sandy stretches.
The sandstone warmed from yellow to orange.
Halfway down the cliff, Nick cupped his hands around his mouth. “Cooo-eeee.” The echoes bounced back. Cooo-eeee … cooo-eeee.
Esther joined in, and the echoes mingled and merged, harmonising alto and bass.
“That will let anyone up ahead know we’re coming,” Nick said. A brief drink and they continued down, step by uneven step, descending the cliff face, right to the base, where they found a spot to eat lunch.
Nick was quieter than usual as they ate, but the magnificent scenery distracted Esther from probing the cause of his preoccupation. The waterfall cascaded in a narrow ribbon, plunging from the full height of the escarpment into its pool. Moss and feathery ferns clung to the cliff’s cracks and crevices. The wind whipped behind the waterfall, so Esther climbed onto a high flat rock where the fine spray blew around in a cool lacy curtain. She’d wanted to do it since the first time they’d visited. Today, knowing they were alone, she finally dared. No one was here to think her insane. She flung her arms out and twirled, laughing with an exuberance she seldom showed—or even felt.
“You’re-a-crazy-lady-but-I-love-you-will-you-marry-me?”
Nick’s shouted voice broke into her private moment. His words ran together as though he had blurted them out in one continuous waterfall-like spurt.
Esther stopped mid-spin and turned to face Nick. He was looking at her with an expression of anguished uncertainty. Had she heard him right?
“What did you say?”
Nick’s face relaxed a little. “You heard me. You just want me to ask again. Okay, Esther Macdonald.” He dropped to one knee and clasped his hands together in pleading mode. “Please, please—marry me.”
“That’s what I thought I heard, but I wasn’t sure.” Dizzying champagne bubbles of delight fizzed in her head. “Yes. One hundred times, yes.”
“Woo-hoo.” Nick pumped his clenched fists into the air in a victory cry. Before Esther could laugh at his antics he was leaping down from his rock. From her higher rock, Esther peered over the edge, hoping he wouldn’t break anything in his haste. He stumbled once or twice before she heard him scrambling up. His eager face appeared, and she pulled him up onto the top of the rock. He was panting so much it was ten seconds before he kissed her.
Long minutes passed, until the waterfall’s spray was no longer cooling but cold. Esther shivered. She didn’t want the moment to end, but she eventually pulled away and climbed down the rock to gather their lunch things. Nick placed all the heavier items in his backpack and they began to dawdle back up the path.
The steps didn’t seem as steep today. She’d always laughed at what she’d called trite romantic clichés, and yet here she was, floating on a cloud of euphoria, feeling her feet were a metre above the ground, breathless with heart palpitations every time Nick touched her. It was ridiculous, but it was true. Esther was soon spinning dreams and weaving visions of a fantastical, fairy tale future.
3
Esther bounced out of bed the next morning and bounded into the shower, singing. She dressed for church with more care than usual. Her father always insisted she and her mother, Blanche, look impeccable. As a teenager, she’d often longed to slouch around in slippers or coddle herself in comfy clothes, but hadn’t dared.
There was the usual Sunday bustle at Victory Church. Billboards outside informed visitors there were four services on Sundays and a full programme during the week. A multi-level car park catered for the crowds, and teams of welcomers funnelled people past tasteful flower arrangements and through wide double doors to the auditorium.
Victory smelled of fresh paint, plush carpet, and expensive deodorisers. Nothing but the finest for William Macdonald, for Victory.
Displayed along the side walls were her mother’s pride and joy, enormous banners quilted to look like stained glass, in exquisite emerald, ruby, sapphire, and gold. Her father had been dubious about the idea of ‘handmade banners’, but the string of championship prizes from Sydney’s Royal Easter Show guaranteed them pride of place.
Esther moved to a foldaway seat in the second-to-last row. She usually sat with her mother in the front row, but this morning her father had asked her to sit towards the back. What was he up to? Hopefully not announcing her engagement. She wanted to keep that private a little longer, as she’d told Dad last night when they’d given him the news.
Being engaged was something she’d been dreaming about since her teenage years. She’d had plenty of young men interested in getting to know her better, but something had always prevented things moving forward. Her heavy church involvement, or that most guys didn’t dare date the pastor’s daughter. The three who had dared, hadn’t met her father’s exacting standards. Two hadn’t been a big loss, but she regretted the third. What a relief that Nick received the gold stamp of approval.
She leaned back to appreciate the atmosphere, choreographed to sweep people along in swirling symphonies of sound and to emotionally emphasise parts of the programme. The music quietened, and one of the elders moved to the middle of the stage.
“Let us welcome the Reverend Doctor William Macdonald to share God’s word with us.”
Her father strode across the stage, his hair steel grey perfection and his Italian suit, flawless. He placed his weighty Bible on the podium, looked up at his audience, and smiled. How did he establish an instant connection with every person present? Whatever his secret, he had people ready to do whatever he asked in seconds. Fund-raising was a cinch at Victory.
He paused for the perfect length of time. “Let us pray. King of the Universe. Thank you for your blessings on this, your church. Help us to be fit to hear your message to us. In your mighty Son’s name, amen.”
Her father had honed and polished his communication skills through to doctorate level. Every day he sweated, polishing his skills, layer by layer. Burnishing every word of every book. Refining every sentence of every radio programme. Sharpening every syllable of every sound bite.
“I asked the Lord which story should be next in our sermon series. He told me to share the story of the bleeding woman.”
So her father would be preaching on one of his favourite themes. Faith.
He was a brilliant storyteller, and Esther was caught up in the woman’s desperation, her shame, her fear. She even heard the quaver in the woman’s voice as she reached towards Jesus.
Esther had long ago given up opening the Bible to keep up with the passages her father quoted—he flitted forward and back, back and forward. Instead, she let the words roll over her as though she was being tumbled in the surf.
Her father’s voice suited public speaking, slow and sonorous. People trusted him. His sermon style was simple—pound the Bible, proceed to pertinent application, and paint a vision of lives transformed. There had been those who’d objected to his teaching over the years, but they didn’t last long. In private, her father referred to them as ‘the unbelievers’. Esther had never known them well enough to judge. How could she know everyone in a church Victory’s size?
“Faith resulting in healing. That’s what we want to see here. Amen?”
“Amen.” The audience echoed in well-practiced unison.
What were they saying ‘Amen’ to? She must concentrate. Although, come to think of it, her mind often strayed during Dad’s sermons. Looking around, she could see she wasn’t alone. Maybe others also struggled under the torrent of words.
“All these people were commended and healed because of their faith. What about you? Are you receiving little? Or much? Is your faith an itty-bitty faith, or an elephantine-tyrannosaurine faith? Big faith leads to big results.”
Her father stopped and looked around his audience. “So what are you doing to strengthen your faith?” Esther recognised the question as the beginning of one of his classic series of statements. People shifted in their seats as though emerging from hibernation. “We need to dig up rootlets of doubt. Dig up fear. Dig up what others say to make you doubt. Ignore them. Concentrate on faith. We will be a people who are firm in faith.”
Did she doubt? Did she fear? She didn’t think she was much of a doubter, but fear and anxiety were a part of her life. Why? Her father was still talking, so there wasn’t time to puzzle over it.
“Firm in faith when everyone else doubts. Firm in faith when others laugh. Firm in faith, even if we’re the only one standing firm.” Her father looked up, and everyone in the auditorium leaned forward in their seats, ready to spring into action.
“Stand and repeat this commitment with me.”
The auditorium was filled with rustling and shuffling as everyone stood.
“Firm in faith. Got it? All together now.” He conducted his audience, swinging his arm as he counted. “One, two, three.”
“Firm in faith,” his audience repeated.
“Louder. Firm in faith.”
Esther had tried in the past to resist her father’s commands, but it was impossible. One part of her mind looked on in admiration while the other part fought to remain independent.
“Let’s take the roof off.”
Hundreds of voices thundered in unison. “Firm in faith.”
In a long-established pattern, the audience repeated the phrase five times until the auditorium plunged into an orchestrated darkness. Her father would be pleased, so why did she feel a niggle of discomfort? Before she could reflect further, the music swelled and the vague thought vanished like a pebble dropped down a deep, deep well.
“Today we have one extra announcement. It’s something Blanche and I have believed firm in faith.” Her father was incredible. Even the announcements underscored his sermon.
“We have not doubted God would give the best to our family.”
Surely he wasn’t about to … she thought they’d made their desire for privacy, crystal clear.
“I’m delighted to announce the Lord has heard and provided. Esther and Nick have announced their engagement. Please stand up and let us see you both.”
Esther ground her teeth. Had she not been clear? Or had her father decided to ignore her? Now Esther understood why her father had wanted her sitting at the back. It made a better show for Nick to come from the musicians’ pit at the front, run up the aisle, and grab her hand.
He grimaced at her as though in apology, even as he held their hands above their heads like politicians on the campaign trail. So he’d been pressured too. They were both puppets in her father’s play. Even now she must smile. She was the puppet, and her strings had been tugged.
4
January, 1995
Two months later, Esther stood in her half-finished wedding dress in her mother’s sewing studio. She raised her right arm to allow her mother to attach the long sleeve, the silk falling in fluid folds to the floor. Outside, it was thirty degrees Celsius. Inside, the air conditioner streamed cool air, so sweat wouldn’t stain the expensive white fabric.
Esther could see her mother’s tongue protruding from the corner of her mouth. Blanche attached the sleeve, one pin after another, each precisely inserted to avoid holes in the visible panels of the gown. Esther knew better than to distract her. Silk didn’t forgive mistakes.
“Good. Now bend your knees a little.”
Esther bent.
“Perfect. Raise your arm a bit more—good.”
Esther stood as silent and still as someone playing musical statues, moving only when allowed to ‘go’ and freezing on ‘stop’. Her arms and legs were obedient, but her mind was free to roam.
Choosing a dress pattern from the thousands on offer had been a month-long marathon. Her mother was a legendary seamstress, and her experience had guided Esther through the maze of choices. It had been an education in organdie and organza, chiffon, satin and silk.
This wedding wasn’t going to be the cozy and casual celebration she’d dreamed of. Not as the senior pastor’s only daughter. Not marrying Nick, another conspicuous member of a megachurch. Their wedding was going to be a big deal, requiring the standards of a cordon bleu chef and the organisation of a quartermaster to coordinate the army of volunteers.
She’d hoped to avoid a lengthy train but her father had said her dress had to look right in the auditorium. Considering the enormous size of the room it was a miracle she’d avoided having a cathedral train. No matter what her father thought, this wasn’t a royal wedding. They’d compromised on a chapel-length train. Nick had manoeuvred himself out of most of their planning powwows. A wise decision.
Her mother stepped back. “Now, let me see that sleeve. Move your arm slowly up and down. Is it pulling anywhere?”
Esther moved her arm up and down and side to side. The silk slid sensuously over Esther’s skin and raised goosebumps. “Seems fine to me.” She remained motionless as her mother continued to circle, tugging here and there on the silk.
“This first sleeve is right. Can you turn around so I can do the other one? The light on this side is better.”
Esther turned as instructed, careful to avoid being pricked by pins. “I hope this isn’t too much for you, Mum.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for anything.” Her mother’s gaze remained glued on the dress as Esther moved into position. “Don’t worry about me. I love sewing. I wish I had more time for it.” She tweaked a fold of fabric.
Sewing was one hobby Esther didn’t share with her mother. The creativity gene seemed to have missed her. She also didn’t have a tenth of her mother’s sense of style.
“Mum, I do appreciate all you’re doing. I had no idea of all the rigmarole. It feels like I’m being carried on a brakeless bus, lurching along with no idea of what I’m doing.”
“That’s why girls have mothers.” Her mother’s tone was brisk as she pinned the left sleeve and then circled to check her work. “Now, how does that feel?”
Esther lifted her arms. “Ouch.”
“What are you ouching about?”
Esther held herself rigid, trying to avoid a repeat of the pain. “A pin must’ve stabbed me.”
“I doubt it. Where’s the problem?”
“Somewhere here.” Esther’s hand fluttered in the general region of her armpit.
