A New Beginning by Michael Phillips Read Free Book Online Page B

turning toward the side of the bed where she and I stood beside Harriet, “my dear friend whose efforts brought me to California so many years ago . . . you will always hold a fond place in my heart. Thank you . . . for all you have meant to Harriet and me.”
    Almeda leaned forward, tears dripping from her eyes as she did, and lovingly kissed the minister on the forehead.
    â€œOh, and, Corrie,” Rev. Rutledge now said to me, “you dear young lady—what joy you have brought to my life.”
    â€œThank you,” I said through my tears. I reached out, took his hand for just a moment, and gave it a gentle squeeze. Imperceptibly I felt him return it and knew it was his way of passing on his blessing to me.
    He continued to glance about, and now his eyes fell on his own eight-year-old daughter.
    â€œMy dear, dear Mary,” he said in the most tender voice imaginable. “I love you more than you can realize.” He paused to take a shallow breath. “I want you to do something for me,” he added after just a moment. “Will you?”
    â€œAnything, Papa,” said Mary.
    â€œI want you to pray to our God to show you how much your father has loved you . . . will you do that?”
    Mary nodded.
    â€œAnd then I want you to remember,” her father went on, “that I am not really your Father. God only gave me . . . gave me to you for a little while, to help you learn about your real Father. He . . . is my Father too—and the Father of all of us. So if you miss me when I am gone . . . you must remember that I am with your real Father . . . remember that he is a better Father than I could ever be. I shall be with him and I shall speak of you often to him . . . and you may trust him for everything, . . . for he is a good Father, and he loves you even more than I do . . . and that is a great deal indeed—for I love you very, very much.”
    By now we were all crying, though doing our best to do so quietly. But at these last words of her husband’s to their daughter, Harriet again broke into sobs.
    â€œDear, dear Harriet,” said the minister softly, patting her again as much as he was able, “how I have loved you! But do not grieve for me . . . for I am happy. Thank God that he allowed us . . . these wonderful years . . . these years together—”
    A choking sound came to his voice.
    Doc Shoemaker stepped forward.
    â€œChristopher . . .” came Rev. Rutledge’s voice again. He seemed to be looking around, and now his voice was so weak I could scarcely hear it. Christopher stepped forward and bent his face down toward the bed. “Christopher . . . you must—Chr . . .”
    Again he paused, breathing heavily. He was laboring and could hardly get the words out.
    â€œÂ . . . you . . . must—Christopher . . . take . . . take care . . . of my people.”
    Christopher was nodding as he spoke.
    Suddenly Rev. Rutledge’s eyes opened wide and seemed to fill with light. His mouth opened as he struggled to raise himself off the pillows. The half of his mouth that he could move seemed trying to say something.
    â€œHarriet!” he finally managed to exclaim in a whisper barely audible. “Harriet . . . it’s—it’s . . . do you see—”
    But then just as suddenly his whole frame seemed to collapse. His mouth relaxed in a smile as he fell back into the bed. I looked up from his mouth to his eyes and saw that they were now closed, though the light that had been in them seemed to linger just a few moments longer upon his face.
    I knew he was dead.
    Avery Rutledge, the man we had known and loved, was now with his Lord.

Chapter 11 The Call
    Christopher and I went over to the Rutledges the next morning to see if we