Free The Reluctant Bridegroom by Gilbert Morris Page B

looked up and tears glittered in her eyes as she said in wonder, “Why—that’s Timmy and my baby, Mary! God says He’ll take care of them!”
    “If God says it,” Mary announced, “then that settles it! I’ve been so afraid that this cholera would strike Timmy, but God says He’s going to help the fatherless—and that’s all there is to it! Glory to God!”
    “I think that’s right!” Rebekah answered happily. “I never knew God would speak to people like this! I’m not going to doubt Him anymore!”
    Mary said slowly, “I hope you won’t, Becky—but it gets hard sometimes. Right now we’ve heard from God, and we’re feeling happy—but we have to remember times like these when things get bad.” She paused, and her face brightened. “But God has given us a promise—and we’ll help each other to remember it!”
    For a week Brother Finney lingered between life and death, but on the next Sunday, March 6, it was announced that he was through the crisis, and the church went wild with joy. “I knew the Lord wouldn’t take him from us!” Mary cried out happily.
    The following Tuesday she came home from work early, her face pale with fatigue. “I’m feeling a bit down, dear,” she said to Rebekah. “But I think if I lie down a bit, it’ll pass.”
    Rebekah’s heart sank, but she kept a smile on her face, saying, “It’s probably just a bad cold. You get into bed and I’ll fix you some warm broth.”
    But it was not a cold, and both of them knew it. Mary’s fever rose and the diarrhea and vomiting began. By morning she was delirious, but in those brief moments when she was herself, she cried out to Rebekah, her eyes wide with fear. “My Timmy! Take him out of here!”
    “He’s over at the Satterfields—don’t worry, Mary,” Rebekah said. By noon she was worse, and one of the neighbors managed to get an overworked doctor named Gleason to stop by. The thin man was haggard, and his eyes were hollow from lack of sleep. Bending over Mary, he examined her briefly, then lifted his eyes to Rebekah. “You know what this is?”
    “It’s the cholera, isn’t it, Doctor?”
    “Yes.” He hesitated. “Are you a relative?”
    “No. I—I take care of her little boy.”
    Dr. Gleason bit his lip, then said, “Her family should be told.”
    “She has no one.” Rebekah’s heart filled with fear. “Is she going to die, Dr. Gleason?” she whispered.
    He turned to look at the sick woman, who seemed to havedozed off into a fitful sleep. “She’s very bad—very bad! I’ve seen worse cases recover—but it would take a miracle.” He turned to leave, but paused. “I’ll see that the boy gets a place to stay.”
    “The orphanage?”
    “It’s not a bad place,” Gleason assured her. “Maybe it won’t come to that. Give her the medicine. I’ll stop by tomorrow.”
    He left and as soon as the door closed, Mary’s voice caused Rebekah to move at once to her bedside. “What is it, Mary?”
    “What was it he said—about Timmy?” Mary’s face was a skull, the flesh stripped so quickly by the virulent fever, and her eyes were unnaturally bright. “He said the orphanage, didn’t he?”
    Rebekah picked up a damp cloth and wiped the perspiration from the sick woman’s brow. “You’re going to be all right, Mary. Don’t worry—”
    “No! Don’t let them take him there, Rebekah!” Mary sat up and grabbed at Rebekah with frantic strength. “I was brought up in an orphanage! Let him die, God—but don’t let him go to that place!”
    It was all Rebekah could do to hold Mary in the bed, for fear had given the sick woman strength. Her voice rose, and she fought wildly—but it didn’t last long. She fell back, pleading with Rebekah. “Don’t let them take him—please don’t let them!”
    “I won’t!” Rebekah took her friend’s hand tightly in her own. “They won’t take him, Mary! I swear it!”
    Both of them were weeping, and finally Mary fell into a feverish sleep. Rebekah rose