The Captive Bride by Gilbert Morris

Author:Gilbert Morris [Morris, Gilbert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Religious, Historical
ISBN: 9780613133401
Google: mXnQZzP-q_kC
Amazon: B0060M8HXO
Barnesnoble: B0060M8HXO
Goodreads: 17919640
Publisher: Bethany House
Published: 1987-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

A NEW MAN

Rachel slept no more than the barn owl that kept calling all night. For three hours she tossed about on her bed, then finally rose and dressed. Her mind was confused, filled with wild thoughts and an emotion she could not define. She had long ago accepted the fact that she had no father, but for him suddenly to appear made her somehow angry. He could have come home before this! she thought as she waited for Gilbert and Lydia to arrive. If he had loved me and my mother, he would have come!

By the time she heard the footsteps approaching the house, the hurt and bitterness had taken a firm hold of her mind. She opened the door, and saw at a glance that neither of them had slept. Gilbert’s face was pinched in a way she had never seen it, for he was a cheerful man, never gloomy; but now he looked old and worn as he came to embrace her. “You look tired, Rachel,” he said quietly.

“I didn’t sleep much. You two didn’t either, from the looks of you. I’ve got some tea ready.” She sat them down and as she poured the tea, she said, “It’s hard for me—but much worse for both of you.”

Gilbert took the tea, stirred it slowly with his spoon, then tried to smile. “I feel very guilty, you know. Here is my only son come back from the grave, and I’ve not been giving God the glory.”

Lydia sat down wearily, looked out the window where the morning sun was beginning to warm the earth. She shook her head and said, “Matthew is alive—not dead, and I feel so—so ...”

Gilbert gazed at her steadily and said, “It will take a while, my dear.” He sipped his tea, adding, “I’ve sent word for him to come as soon as he can.”

“But—what are you going to say to him?” Rachel asked, frustration mirroring her usually cheery face. Her full lips narrowed under the pressure, as she continued. “He can’t expect to just step back into our lives as if nothing happened! I can’t just smile at him and say, ‘Father, I’m so glad you’re home,’ can I?”

Gilbert stared at his cup, then looked up at her. “I hardly think he expects that, Rachel. But I know what you mean.” Nervously he bit his lip, then added, “Let’s wait until we talk to him before we try to make any decisions or form any judgments.”

The next hour was a strain as each tried to occupy himself. But none mentioned Matthew’s name. Then as Lydia looked out the window she cried, “Here he comes!” They all stiffened. Following the knock at the door, Gilbert moved stiffly forward, then pulled it open and stepped back.

Matthew took two steps into the room, paused, then meeting Gilbert’s gaze, said quietly, “Hello, Father.”

The two women did not move nor speak, for they were caught by the tension that filled the room. Both of them looked at Gilbert’s face, now masking his emotions.

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