God moves in mysterious ways, he knew. But what was he doing now?
At 40, David had pretty much resigned himself to the idea that the one big void in his life would never be filled. But there, leaning against the passenger door of his truck as he drove through the snowy night, slept a woman.
Less than an hour before he’d been totally unaware of her existence. Now she was sleeping in his truck.
Oh, he knew the events of the past hour. He’d been returning to his home near Manitowoc from Sheboygan on Route 42. At the crest of the hill just southeast of Howards Grove he had passed by the interurban bus that ran twice a day between the two cities. It used Route 42 instead of 141 to include Howards Grove and Newtonburg and to avoid the sharp turns that made the latter road a longer trip. The bus had slid off the road and its driver and passengers were waiting for a tow truck. Given the deteriorating weather, it was not likely that a tow would arrive any time soon. Given the disagreement between the front wheels, it was more than likely that alternative transportation would be needed.
At the intersection where Routes 42 and 32 kiss, he’d noticed his passenger waiting in the half open shelter that served as a bus depot for Howards. Having stopped and having informed her of the status of the bus, he’d offered to take her to her destination in Manitowoc. She had been obviously hesitant, but the weather and her isolation moved her to accept.
In the short time they had for conversation before she fell asleep he had learned a little about her. Her name was Bethany. She lived in Cedar Grove, where she worked for a small bakery, and was going to her parents’ home just north of Manitowoc to help out while her mother was recovering from a fall and a broken arm. A friend had brought her as far as Howards before continuing on to Green Bay via 32 and 57. He saw no ring on her finger.
The farther north he drove, the worse the weather became. The snow pelted and built up on his windsield and gusts of wind repeatedly blew him off track. He was glad he had engaged the front hubs before leaving Sheboygan. But even with four-wheel drive, he was concerned. It was almost white-out conditions and he was increasingly convinced that it would be unwise to go past his own place to Bethany’s parents’. He reached over to wake her and to ask her if she would mind waiting out the storm at his place. When she saw the conditions, nearly a foot of snow on the road – twice that in the drifts, and two deserted cars in the ditch in less than a mile, she agreed.
When he turned off the road he could not see his driveway. It was only because he knew where it was in relation to trees that were barely visible that he was able to make his way. He drove past the house and stopped before a barn, hopped out to open the door, and then returned to drive in.
“I’ll leave the engine running a bit while I shovel a path to the house,” he said. “It won’t last ’til morning, but should last long enough to get you inside.” He left the truck, found a shovel, and set to his task. He could tell as he worked that the path would not last an hour. Glad I’m not in her shoes, he thought. A woman alone with a man she doesn’t know and no real options.
It took about ten minutes to complete a crude path and turn on a few lights in the house. “You go ahead,” he said when he returned. “I’ll get your bags.” He retrieved her bags from the back of the truck and followed her to the house. She slipped a few times but didn’t fall.
Once inside, David took out his wallet, opened it to his driver’s license, and handed it to her. “Maam, here’s my name and address. You can call your father and let him know where you are and such. The phone’s right there on the cabinet by the chair.” He pointed. “This way is the bathroom. You can find a towel to dry your hair. I’m going to start a fire in the fireplace and go to the kitchen and whip up some hot chocolate. Want some? Or maybe tea?”
“Uh, sure.”
“Which one?”
“Oh, sorry. Hot chocolate would taste good.”
David went to work at the fireplace while Bethany went down the hall. By the time she returned, the fire was going and David was in the kitchen. She sat by the phone and dialed her parents’ number. Even though she could begin to feel the heat of the fire, she shiverred. She spun the dial for each number and waited each time for the dial to return to normal.
“Hello, Daddy? This is Beth. … Oh, I’m okay. Really. … No, Daddy, it’s too dangerous out there. You’d just end up in a ditch like others I’ve already seen. … The bus went in the ditch before it got to Howards Grove, and a man came by and said he would take me. … I know, Daddy. It wouldn’t be my first choice; but what could I do? Sit there and freeze? … No, he’s been nothing but a gentleman so far. … Not really. I fell asleep in his truck. … I’m at his house now. … But it’s too dangerous! He’s got four-wheel drive and still had a hard time staying on the road. … He gave me his wallet. His name is David Ehrlichmann. His address is 9999 Route 42. It’s just a little southwesst of Manitowoc. … You might? … Wouldn’t that be strange. I’ll have to ask him, but he’s not here right now. He’s in the kitchen making hot chocolate. … Yes, hot chocolate is good, but if what you think is true, that’s even better. … Yes, Daddy, I’m fine. … Don’t worry. God works all for good. See you tomorrow. Love you. Bye.” She closed David’s wallet and set it on the table next to the phone.
David returned just as she finished with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate topped with little marshmallows, handed one to her, and took the other and sat in the chair on the oppposite side of the fireplace.
“Mmm. That’s so good,” she said as she sipped her first taste.
“I’ve put your bags in the bedroom. There’s two bedrooms, but I’ve only one bed. I’ll sleep out here on the couch. Sorry it’s not well decorated. It’s just me, and you know how guys are. But it’s clean. I just changed the sheets this morning.”
“I can’t take your bed.”
“Yes, you can. Besides, what kind of host makes his guest sleep on the couch? And it won’t be the first time, even without a guest.”
They sat quietly. She looked around the room. To her right the fireplace was centered on its wall, flanked symmetrically by book cases above and cabinets below. A raised hearth ran the entire length of the wall. Directly opposite the fireplace was a bay window above a three place sofa. Two upholstered chairs – she sat in one, David in the other opposite the fireplace – were both pointed toward the center of the room and completed a matched set with the sofa. The sofa and David’s chair looked brand new, but hers was showing some signs of wear. Next to each chair and on either side of the sofa was a small table. Between the seating was an area rug and near the sofa a low table. The upholstered furniture was unremarkable, but all the woodwork in the room – tables, mantle, book cases, cabinets, and window trim – was exquisite. She had never seen such well made furniture. On the cabinet under the book case immediately to her right was a wooden bowl that was so intricate that she wondered how it could possibly have been made. Oddly, however, nothing except the upholstery matched. On the lower level of the table next to her chair were a few magazines – Popular Mechanics, Fine Woodworking, and Model Railroader – a very worn Bible, and a hymnal that matched those used at her church. Perhaps it was the warmth of the fire, or the hot chocolate, or the Bible and hymnal, but she was feeling more comfortable in her circumstances.
David already knew what the room looked like. He looked at Bethany. He guessed she might be around 30, but knew he’d never been good at guessing ages. She would not be a super model, but was still pleasant to the eye. He wondered what she was like. What were her interests, priorities. Was she a Christian? Did she share his faith?
“This woodwork is amazing,” she said. “But they’re all so different from each other.”
“Oh, they’re just my experiments.”
“I don’t understand.”
“When I get an idea, I make a trial version to get a feel for how it goes together and work out unforseen problems. Sometimes a client requests a change once they see one.”
“You made these?”
“I’m a self-employed woodworker. I make custom furniture – tables, chairs, cabinets, whatever. I converted most of the barn outside into a woodshop. Haven’t done upholstery, though.”
“And you make enough to support yourself?”
“Well, my customers have to have a much higher income than I have, but word gets around and I do okay. Don’t make much on a single table or chair, but kitchens bring in a good bit.”
She ran her fingers over the table next to her. “You do good work.”
“Thank you. I try.”
She paused long enough to finish off her hot chocolate. “May I ask a personal question?”
“Sure. Fire away.”
“Are you, perchance, a member of Grace Lutheran up by Kellners Corners?”
“As a matter of fact, I am. How in the world did you guess that?”
“My parents are members there. The Jensens. When I told my father your name he said you might be the same David Ehrlichmann who goes there. Guess you are.”
“You’re Bob and Bonnie’s daughter? I didn’t even know they had a daughter. Well I’ll be.” It was his turn to pause. “This is weird. So, how come I’ve never seen you there?”
“Well, I have my own church, and since I don’t have a car I don’t get up here much. When I do, it’s usually on Saturday. And maybe you have seen me, but were too blind to notice.” She smiled.
“Oh, I think I would have noticed you.” He smiled back. “And you’re still single? I noticed no ring. A special friend or someone you’re interested it?
“No. I’ve kind of given up on that.”
“Why? You seem like a nice girl, and pretty.”
“There’s been possibilities, but none of them shared my priority on faith. My church is small and the dedicated men are all either taken, way too young, or widowers of my parents’ generation. Could’ve married outside the faith, but I just can’t do that. It’s too important.”
“You’ve got that right.”
Outside the winter winds continued to bury the world in a blanket of white, but inside the spark of hope was rekindled in two hearts.