Free Child of Promise by Kathleen Morgan Page A

lessons, though, can only be learned in struggle—lessons about ourselves, about others, and about the kingdom of heaven. Like most things, in the end it all comes down to trusting in God and allowing Him to work in us in His own good time.”
    “Seems to me, if God wanted anything to work swift and sure, it’d be forgiveness. Leastwise, the business of forgiving others.”
    The priest smiled wryly. “As opposed to what—the forgiveness of oneself?”
    “Yes. That’s the hardest thing to forgive. Ourselves, I mean.”
    “And why’s that, do you think?”
    Beth opened her mouth to explain, then caught herself just in time. Noah was a sly one, that he was. He had played his waiting game well. He had almost gotten her to reveal what she had earlier been so adamant about not revealing.
    “I don’t know.” She locked gazes with him, refusing to back down. “Why don’t you tell me? After all, you’re the expert on forgiveness.”
    “I’m no expert, Beth,” Noah said softly. “Far from it. After all, I just ask the questions. With the Lord’s help, everyone has to find their own answers.”
    “Hogwash!” Beth couldn’t help getting angry, very angry. “When it comes to forgiveness, aren’t all the answers the same?”
    As if unable to bear her scrutiny or the challenge burning in her eyes, Noah looked down at his mug of coffee. “I’m not so sure they are, Beth. Leastwise, if they were, I think we’d all come to that forgiveness a lot quicker than we do.”
    Noah lifted his glance to hers, and Beth saw the most heartrending look of confusion and pain. Her anger fled, banished by the rising concern she felt for him.
    “Then maybe, just maybe,” she said, though she didn’t know how such words came to her, or even how much she really believed them, “that’s why the Lord gives us each other to learn from. In coming to understand others, we arrive finally at an understanding of ourselves. And in forgiving others, we learn at last how to forgive ourselves.”

6
We wait for light, but behold obscurity; for brightness, but we walk in darkness.
Isaiah 59:9
    On Monday morning Beth was up bright and early. Her first day of work with Doc Childress and her first day of service to the people of Grand View! She was so excited she could hardly contain herself.
    After her morning ablutions, she dressed, piled and pinned her hair atop her head, and headed for the kitchen. Noah, in black trousers, shoes, and a collarless clerical shirt, was already there, adding wood to the cast-iron cookstove. At Beth’s entry, he rose, a smile of welcome on his lips.
    “Well, good morning, Dr. MacKay.” He briefly scanned her, then nodded his approval. “You’re looking quite prim, proper, and professional this morning.”
    Beth laughed. Her navy skirt and pin-tucked white, high-collared blouse, adorned with a pert little black bow tie, was pretty much her usual wear. Never one for frilly clothes, Beth felt far more appropriately dressed—and comfortable—in simpler garb.
    “Sure beats the overalls and boy’s shirts I used to love wearing,” she said. “And plain clothing’s more sanitary and presents a reassuring appearance to a patient. Besides, I gave up long ago trying to dress to catch a man’s eye.”
    “My dear, you could catch a man’s eye dressed in a flour sack.”
    Beth couldn’t help it—a flush swept up her neck and warmed her cheeks. Though she knew she shouldn’t let the compliment affect her so, convinced as she was Noah only meant it in the kindest of ways, Beth was discomfited nonetheless. Masculine attention, especially the admiring kind, was the last thing she wanted.
    “I doubt Doc would take kindly to having his new colleague appear in such garb. Might send his patients hightailing it all the way to Colorado Springs for a new doctor.”
    Noah grinned. “You’re most likely right. Still, the thought does present some delightful images.”
    “Shame on you, Noah Starr!” Beth couldn’t