Free Heathersleigh Homecoming by Michael Phillips

of nonreality.
    She felt more at home here after less than twelve hours than she had ever felt there. Or than she had felt during her three years with the Pankhursts in London, for that matter. Emmeline Pankhurst and her daughters had warmly welcomed Amanda into their home, but Amanda had eventually realized that their kindness had far more to do with her value to them in promoting their cause of women’s suffrage than in what she meant to them personally. Disillusioned by the women’s movement, and feeling used and betrayed by the Pankhursts, she had left their home two years ago and had had no contact with them since. Somehow this quiet place in the Alps was different. She knew she could trust these women. She knew she was among friends. She felt more at home here than anywhere but—
    Again she stopped herself. That was another avenue of thought she was not anxious to explore at present. Sister Hope’s voice interrupted Amanda’s thoughts.
    â€œWell, my dear, you are welcome to stay with us as long as you like,” she said. “Many people have discovered themselves refreshed and invigorated for life’s battles here among the Alps. I pray it will be such a time for you. Some stay for a day, others for a week, still others a year. However we can be of help and encouragement, it will be our privilege to do so. When the time comes that you feel you should continue on, we will do all we are able to help you get back to England. Our one desire and prayer is to serve you.”
    â€œI . . . thank you,” replied Amanda, taken aback by the forthright statement. “I don’t know what to say. Nobody has ever said anything quite like that to me before.”
    Sister Hope smiled. “Perhaps not,” she said.
    â€œWhat do you mean . . . serve me . Serve me . . . how?”
    â€œWe all have needs that the Lord wants to attend to within us. To the meeting of that need—and whatever ministry of service it involves—we are dedicated.”
    â€œBut . . . what a remarkable thing,” said Amanda slowly, in almost a bewildered tone. In truth, she was barely able to make much sense out of the words.
    â€œSuch is the purpose of the chalet,” added Sister Hope.
    â€œIs . . . is there a cost for my staying?” said Amanda. “Is this . . . some kind of hotel or guesthouse? I’m afraid I have very little money.”
    Both women laughed with delight. It was a laugh of pure pleasure with which Amanda took not the slightest offense. How could she? The laughter was so merry and gay that after a second or two she found herself joining in at her own unintentional joke.
    â€œNo, my dear Amanda,” replied Sister Hope after a moment. “This is just our home, isn’t it, Sister Gretchen?”
    â€œAre you really all sisters?”
    Again laughter filled the kitchen.
    â€œOnly in the Lord,” replied Sister Hope. “Every one of us came here originally without the slightest thought of making it our home. Now we are pleased to be able to offer our hospitality to all who come, even as many of us arrived originally, as strangers. Our guests are truly our guests. There is no cost.”
    â€œBut how do you . . .”
    â€œHow do we afford to open our home in this way?”
    Amanda nodded.
    â€œThe Lord makes provision.”
    â€œDo you have . . . jobs?”
    â€œWe make things. We sell cheese. And as I say, the Lord makes provision.”
    Amanda reflected for a moment.
    â€œI still don’t know what to say,” she said at length, “other than thank you . You are very kind and generous.”

 11 
Messrs. Crumholtz, Sutclyff, Stonehaugh, & Crumholtz
    The morning’s light drizzle had gradually turned into something heavier.
    As Bradbury Crumholtz walked along the cobbled avenue under his black umbrella back toward his office, the gentle rain falling