Home > Books > If I Were You (Inside Out #1)(130)

If I Were You (Inside Out #1)(130)

Author:Lynn Austin

A knock on the door startled Audrey from her reverie. “Rev. Hamlin is here to see you,” Robbins said. The fragile leaves stirred, the edges crumbled. The vicar had taught Audrey how to pray during the war, how to find strength in God. He had officiated at her wedding. A lifetime ago.

“Please tell him to come back another day.”

Robbins didn’t move. “He thought you might say that. He said to tell you he isn’t leaving until he has a chance to speak with you.”

“Very well. Show him in.” She would get it over with.

“Shall I bring tea?” Robbins asked.

“No. He won’t be staying long.” She stowed Robert’s letters inside the desk drawer, steeling herself as she rose to greet him.

“I came to offer my condolences,” the vicar said, reaching for her hand. “Your husband was a fine man.”

“Thank you.” She would say very little and not engage him in conversation. But Rev. Hamlin sat down in one of the chairs by the fireplace as if she had offered it to him. Good manners required her to take the other chair.

“Robbins told me about the tragic circumstances of your husband’s death and about the woman who took his life and her own.”

“Then there’s nothing left to say.”

The vicar paused, then leaned forward in his chair. “Audrey . . . why do you suppose your husband got into the car with her?” The kindness in his eyes, the gentleness in his voice, nearly undid her. She couldn’t reply. It was a question she had never dared to ask and didn’t want to contemplate now. “I didn’t come here to cause you more pain,” he continued. “My job ever since the war began has been a difficult one as I’ve tried to defend God and explain the unexplainable. People ask why He allows these tragedies to happen, and I don’t have an answer except to say that He knows things that we don’t know and sees things we can’t possibly see. I can only urge you to continue forward, like a ship in the fog, perhaps, trusting His love.”

A vivid memory came to Audrey—how she’d gripped the wheel of Alfie’s boat to steer it through the darkness. She remembered her fear and the dizzying feeling of unreality, as if everything were happening to someone else. It was not unlike what she felt now. “But the ship I’m in has no rudder, Reverend. And the fog never lifts.”

He reached for her hand, his fingers calloused and warm. “During the war, we had a tangible enemy, an evil enemy. And thank God, that enemy was defeated. When I comfort those who’ve lost loved ones, I usually can help them see that their loss had a higher purpose, serving the greater good of combating the Nazis. Do any of us doubt how much more suffering would be unleased if Hitler had been victorious? Those who died gave their lives as God’s soldiers, fighting so the people they loved could be free from that evil. It was the same reason that God allowed His Son to suffer and die an unspeakable death—so the people He loves could be free.”

“Robert didn’t die in battle.”

“Didn’t he? Can you explain why he agreed to climb into a car with a woman who obviously hated him?”

Audrey stared down at the vicar’s hand, still clasping hers. It was unexplainable. Robert knew Linda was unstable. He should have stayed far away from her. But Audrey also remembered Robert saying, “I need to see her face-to-face and apologize if I hurt her. I need to ask her to forgive me.”

“It required courage to do what he did,” the vicar said. “Courage your husband learned in battle as a soldier.”

Robert had compared serving God with serving in the military. “We can use the lessons we learned while fighting the war to lay aside our own comfort and follow His commands. The fight against evil is far from over.” There were people who needed to be set free. And Linda had been one of them.

“Would Robert have reached out to this woman if God asked him to?” the vicar pressed.

The question angered Audrey. She let go of his hand. “Why would God ask such a thing?”

“Why did you go into dangerous places during the war and risk your life? You drove your ambulance into places where the bombs were still falling.”

“I did it to save lives.”

“Ah. Then you do understand why your husband did it. And why God would ask him to. Perhaps he hoped to save this woman from a life of bitterness and despair.” Rev. Hamlin stood. “I know you didn’t really want to see me today, and I imposed myself on you. But I’m a telephone call away whenever you would like to talk.”