Miss Harriet sat down graciously, then popped up again with the exclamation, “Oh, but Katherine, it’s your day off! I couldn’t ask you to—”

“You’re not asking. I’m volunteering. This is exactly how I want to spend my morning, so just sit down and relax. I’ll take over until your conference is finished.” And with that, Katherine whisked back into the kitchen to attend to some scones which were just beginning to fill the shop with the wonderful aroma of being just about cooked.

Thank goodness she had the baking in already! thought Katherine. She had not yet mastered the art of baking and was heartily glad not to have to try her skill this morning. She peeked around the curtain in the kitchen doorway as the two at the table erupted into hearty laughter.

Katherine smiled. It was nice to see Miss Harriet enjoying herself. She spent so much time thinking and doing things for others, Katherine considered it a treat even to do something little for her.

* * * *

That evening, Katherine joined Miss Harriet in the kitchen. She tied on an apron and picked up a dishcloth as Miss Harriet looked up with a pleased smile.

“Well, now! Here you are, working again on your day off. I should start paying you to work Saturdays as well!”

Katherine smiled and reached for a saucer. “Nonsense! I wanted you to have a chance to relax and talk over details with Mr. James.”

“Aren’t you a dear!” Miss Harriet said, handing Katherine a plate to dry. The two chatted about the day, then fell into a companionable quiet.

After a while, Katherine hesitantly asked, “Miss Harriet, forgive me if this is too personal a question, but…why did you never marry?”

Miss Harriet handed her a teacup and kept washing as she replied, “For the simple reason that I never loved, not really anyway. There was a young man once, and we did talk of marrying, but I wanted from love what I expect all young girls want: to be looked after, adored, to have my own needs and wants considered as the most important thing in the world. He wanted the same thing, however, and when two selfish beings try to impose their will on each other, it never goes well. So…we parted.”

“How sad.” Katherine looked at Miss Harriet in sympathy. Miss Harriet looked up at Katherine and smiled.

“Sadder if we hadn’t,” she replied. “I needed to learn what love is, and so did he.”

“But,” Katherine looked puzzled, “Isn’t love just something you instinctively know? I mean, something you feel.”

“Ah, well, that is the prevailing opinion nowadays, but feelings are only a part of it: they ebb and flow, while true love chooses to behave the same, even when feelings are changeful. It chooses to put the other first, even when doing so runs contrary to its own inclinations or interests. That’s why my chap and I parted, because neither of us were willing to give up our own selfish wants and wishes in order to put the other’s first.”

“I hadn’t ever thought about it that way.”

“Well, I suppose I hadn’t, either, until one day, I was reading in the Bible about how God is love. Then I read another passage that listed qualities of love. You see, the Bible says that love doesn’t seek its own, doesn’t boast, isn’t prideful. It keeps no record of wrongs; it is longsuffering and kind. That was all missing from the love I thought I had in my heart. That love was all about me; true love is all about the loved one.”

“That’s a pretty tall order.”

“Yes, it is.” Miss Harriet wiped a plate and rinsed it before continuing, “Katherine, the real test of love is sacrifice. Just as Christ Jesus died on the cross to pay for my sin and yours even though He could have just let us die in our sins and go to hell, He expects us to love one another with that same kind of love with which He loves us. Of course, that applies to any relationship, but most especially to marriage. That willingness to sacrifice daily, constantly, with no end in sight, in order to achieve the happiness or comfort of the one you love: that is what makes a marriage work. The emotions are wonderful, but I’ve seen far too many friends and relations base their marriages on feelings, only to have them fall apart when the feelings falter.”

Miss Harriet dried her hands on her apron and turned to Katherine, looking earnestly into her eyes. She took both Katherine’s hands in hers, saying soberly, “Your young man will come; I feel certain of it. But promise me one thing, Dearie: when he does, don’t let impatience or a rush of emotion blind you to what true love is. Let the love of Christ be what defines your love for others. That will be a love that stands the test of time.” Miss Harriet squeezed Katherine’s hands once more before dropping them and continuing to wash the last few dishes.

Katherine worked on, surveying the remarkable lady next to her, so confident, happy, and full of joy. She seemed utterly and completely happy, and not the least bit dissatisfied with the life she led. The more Katherine learned about Miss Harriet, the more she wanted to be like her; to be at peace with the past, the present, and the future.

That night, Katherine lay awake, thinking over what Miss Harriet had said. Moonlight streamed through the little window above her bed as the moon began to rise over the trees on the Cliffs. Finally, she got up and knelt on the floor in the pale light and began to pray.

Lord… make me like Miss Harriet. Show me how to begin to have the peace she has.

As she sat still on her knees in the quiet, a verse came to mind—the same verse that had been tugging at her heart ever since the day she had heard her pastor read it:

“Ask for the old paths, where is the good way, and walk therein, and ye shall find rest for your souls.”

…Oh, Lord, she prayed, help me to find the old paths that will give me rest for my soul.”

14 A Blustery Day

“Oh, Katherine, I have something for you,” said Miss Harriet as Katherine hurried down the stairs. “I know you’re on your way to the Harborside, but this won’t take but a moment.”

Katherine wound her scarf around her neck as Miss Harriet hurried into the kitchen and returned with a book in her hand.

“I ran across this on my shelves last night and thought you might enjoy reading about Guy Fawkes. Then you’ll be able to fully appreciate our celebration.”

Katherine took the old volume and ran her hands over the embossed gold decoration on its worn fabric cover. Then she turned it and read the title aloud from the spine:

“A Child’s History of England, by Dickens… Charles Dickens?” she asked looking up at Miss Harriet inquisitively.

“Yes. That’s what made me think of you. I remembered that you had enjoyed Bleak House so much and thought you might enjoy Dickens’ narrative of the Gunpowder Plot as well. I’ve marked it for you, but in case the bookmark falls out, it starts on page 328.”

“Thank you, Miss Harriet! I can’t wait to read it!” Katherine had already opened the cover and was scanning the table of contents.

Miss Harriet chuckled, gently pushing Katherine towards the door.

“Now, don’t you go reading it on the way to work. I’ll never hear the end of it if Captain Braddock thinks I’ve made you late!”

Katherine reluctantly stowed the book in her bag and started off down the street. The wind blustered in off the harbor, ambushing Katherine as she crossed the spaces between buildings. It lashed her hair around her face and her skirt around her ankles as she hurried across the street.

No leisurely walk home along the wharf tonight, she thought, holding tightly to her scarf as the wind tried to blow it away. She was glad to reach the Harborside block and have a little relief from the biting cold of the wind. Stepping into the doorway she saw the Captain hunched over on a little three-legged stool in front of the old wood stove.

“Good morning Captain!” she said cheerily. Without looking up, he replied,

“Good mornin’, Missy,” and continued to stare into the stove, blowing gently now and then and adding kindling.

Katherine had never seen the wood stove in action. The fall had been so mild that until this morning, she hadn’t even thought about how the old part of the shop would be kept warm in the winter. She took off her coat and scarf and smoothed her hair, using her reflection in the shop window as a mirror. Then she quietly slipped on her apron and stepped behind the counter to get a clean dust rag.

Usually, several rags sat in a neatly folded stack on one of the shelves. Not seeing any there, she straightened with a question at her lips, but seeing the captain so engrossed in tending the fire, she abruptly disappeared behind the counter again. This was her chance to “snoop” without snooping.

She quickly surveyed the rows of drawers next to the shelves, wondering which to open. She knew she might only have one chance before the Captain asked what she was doing. She looked at the drawer which had held the candy.

No, I know what’s in that one, and he does open it sometimes, so I might get to look in it another time.

Finally, she decided to open the drawer directly below it. To her disappointment, she only found a ball of string and some scissors. Emboldened by her attempt, however, she pulled on the next drawer down.

It stuck, and the faint thud caused the captain to look up from his task with a gruff, “What’re you looking for back there?”