Silent Star by Tracie Peterson Read Free Book Online

coat.
    The market was nearly eight blocks away, but Estella made the trip without any trouble. She prayed as she went and it seemed to make the time pass more quickly. To her sorrow, however, she found the store closed. The sign read: Due to the death of our son, Tom, we will be closed today.
    She shook her head. “Poor folks.”
    “Mrs. Nelson? Is that you?”
    Estella looked behind her to find the pastor leaning out the window of his car. He was a young man, generally full of energy and excitement. His smile had warmed her on many occasions, but today was not one of those days.
    “Why, Pastor Bailey, what brings you to town?” She walked to the vehicle as he stepped out.
    “It’s a sad time, as I’m sure you know. I’ve been making rounds and visiting with my flock. So many have lost children or husbands. It’s truly a time of mourning for Haven.”
    Estella nodded. “I came to the market, but it’s closed. They’ve lost their son, Tom.”
    “Yes, I know. I visited with them last night.” He looked to the store window, then back to Estella. “What brings you out? It’s very cold. Can I give you a lift?”
    “I have a young friend who is desperately ill. I need to get a piece of chicken so that I can make him some broth. I suppose you could drop me off at the grocery store on Second.”
    “I can do better than that,” he said. “I happen to have some chicken at my house. One of the farm families I visited yesterday gave it to me. I’d be happy to share my blessing with you.”
    Estella smiled. “I asked the Lord to go before me, and I see He has done just that.”
    “Indeed. He’s always faithful, even in times like these.” He helped Estella to the car and opened the door for her. “So who is your friend?”
    “His name is Andy Gilbert.”
    He frowned. “I know Andy. He and his mother used to attend our church—at least until she became too sick. I visited her several times but then just seemed to lose touch until she passed on. Sad situation. I don’t think there were more than a handful of people at the funeral.” He went around and got in the car.
    Estella shifted to look at him. “Why did you stop going to see them?”
    “Andy seemed so hostile to my company. He even told me he wasn’t interested in hearing about God. I think he blamed God for his mother’s illness. He actually asked me to stop coming by, and I guess I found it easier to comply than to fight it.”
    “Still, it hardly seems right that everyone just let the boy go his own way. He has no friends—and it appears folks avoid him because of his telegram deliveries.”
    The young minister nodded. “Yes, I’ve heard that. Other delivery boys have mentioned such things.”
    “You should speak to the congregation about it,” Estella said, feeling the need to point this out.
    “I doubt they would hear anything I said on the matter.” Bailey pulled into the parsonage drive and turned. “People are caught up in their own pain. I’m sure the delivery boys couldn’t possibly have it as bad as the young wife or mother who has lost her husband or son.” He opened the car door and quickly stepped out. “Now, you stay right here, and I’ll bring the chicken to you.”
    Estella watched the slender young man make his way slipping and sliding through the snow. Apparently he’d had no time to shovel his walk before heading out on his calls.
    She sat thinking about Pastor Bailey’s words and knew that this was how most people probably felt. Of course losing a loved one couldn’t be compared to anything else. There was no other cut that went quite so deep, or pain quite so sharp. Still, Andy’s hurt was real—as no doubt was the misery of the other delivery boys.
    The pastor reappeared, sliding his way back to the car. He’d almost made it back when his feet went out from under him and he disappeared from Estella’s sight. She gasped and reached for the door handle just as he popped back up, red in the face but apparently