A Whisper of Peace

Chapter Thirty-Seven





Clay followed Lizzie into the sunny yard outside Co’Ozhii’s cabin, his heart light as he observed Lizzie’s skipping footsteps and beaming smile. He wished he could scoop her into his arms and celebrate this moment of victory with a kiss. But other Gwich’ins milled about in the village’s common area, so he pushed his hands into his pockets and offered a smile of congratulations instead.

Lizzie walked alongside him, her hands clasped in front of her as if she held tight to her new bond of harmony with her grandmother. Her eyes, bright with wonder, scanned the skies. A short, joyous giggle left her lips. “Peace, Clay . . . at last we have peace, my grandmother and me. And now my prayer is that this peace will spread across the village.”

Clay nodded. Co’Ozhii had told them she planned to call a special meeting with the tribal council later that evening to recommend ending Lizzie’s excommunication. In a few short hours they would know whether Lizzie would be welcomed or ostracized. Looking into Lizzie’s trusting face now, he could do nothing less than believe her time of acceptance drew near.

“Vitse still resists the Father,” Lizzie went on, her tone taking on a wistful quality that tugged at Clay’s heart, “but I will speak to her often and share with her how I hold Him inside of me, how He brings me joy.” She crossed both palms over her heart and beamed at Clay. “She will come to believe. My Father-God will answer my prayer.”

Her confidence spurred his confidence. He’d prayed so often for the people of this village to come to the mission he’d nearly worn out the words. Why hadn’t God answered his prayer? God knew how much he wanted to remain here, serving the people and bringing change into their souls, so why didn’t He light the fire of desire in their hearts?

As they neared the mission building, Lizzie pointed ahead. “Someone has been here and left something behind.”

Clay squinted against the descending sun. A white rectangle of paper, tacked to the building’s doorframe, flapped gently in the light breeze—an envelope. Anticipation pushed him into a trot, and he closed the distance quickly. He yanked the envelope loose and, his hands shaking, turned it over to look at the handwriting. With a grin, he waved it at Lizzie. “It’s from my father!”

Lizzie hustled to his side, her eyes alight with eagerness. “Open it.”

Clay’s hands turned clumsy as he slit the envelope and removed a small square of paper, folded in half. His elation dimmed momentarily. He’d expected a lengthy letter, citing suggestions and offering support. He shot Lizzie a puzzled look before tucking the empty envelope into his pocket and unfolding the paper. His brows crunched as he read the single-sentence message. He shook his head, trying to unfuzz his brain, then read it a second time. Despite himself, he smiled, then guffawed, and finally let loose with a long, self-deprecating belly laugh.

He held the paper high and shook it. The paper’s crinkling sound emulated laughter. Clay snorted. “Pa . . . you rascal. Trust you to get to the heart of the matter.”

Lizzie stared at him, concern marring her brow. “Clay?”

Without replying, he handed her the short letter, then strode away several feet, scuffing his toes against the hard ground and shaking his head while bubbles of laughter continued to escape his lips.

Lizzie read Pa’s advice out loud. “ ‘Son, the church isn’t a building. Love, Pa.’ ” She refolded the letter and gazed at him with a puzzled expression. “What does it mean?”

Clay returned to her side and plucked the letter from her hand, his father’s wisdom making him feel both foolish and grateful at the same time. “It means I’ve had my focus in the wrong direction all along.” He paced back and forth, gesturing to the fine mission built of sturdy logs. “I was so determined to complete the building I lost sight of what really matters—serving people.” He swung to face her. “I’ve prayed and prayed for the people of Gwichyaa Saa to come and sit on those benches and hear me preach . . . but I should have been going to them.”

A lump filled his throat. How shortsighted he’d been. How much time he’d wasted. He looked at the fine structure again, recalling the way his chest had swelled with pride when he’d examined his craftsmanship. The remembrance shamed him. I came to do Your will, but I got so caught up in my own plans, You were pushed aside. Father, forgive me.

To Lizzie, he said, “The church doesn’t reside within a building, but within the hearts of God’s people. And that’s what I came to teach, Lizzie. I hope this building will one day be the place we gather to worship together, but I’m no longer going to wait for them to come to me. I’ll go to them, the same way my pa did when I was a boy. Door to door, serving them in any way I can. And I’ll grab every opportunity to tell them of God’s love.” Determination stiffened his spine. One heart at a time . . . that’s the way the message of truth spreads.

He clamped his hands over her shoulders, rejoicing in the way her hands rose to grasp his wrists. Peering directly into her attentive face, he made a vow. “I’ll push my pride out of the way and follow the leading of the Spirit. If I allow Him to work through me, we’ll see change, Lizzie. I know we’ll see change.”

“And I’ll help you, Clay Selby.”

Her immediate promise of support sent a shaft of joy through Clay’s soul, but a worrisome thought cast a shadow over his delight. The uncomfortable fear that had pestered him at night had to be addressed, and this seemed a good time. He led Lizzie to the stoop and sat, pulling her down beside him.

“Lizzie, I have to know something. Will you answer me truthfully?”

None of her former rebellion or distrust flared. She gave a quick nod.

He drew a steadying breath, fearful of the answer yet needing to know. “You’ve made peace with Co’Ozhii and you said you would pray to be accepted into the village. But . . .” His mouth felt dry. He swallowed and continued. “Do you truly want to live in the village, or are you hoping to stay because you have no place else to go?”

If she chose the village out of desperation rather than a real desire to live there, he feared she might also lean on him because she had no one else. He loved her and wanted her permanently in his life, but he needed her to feel the same way about him. His pulse pounded like a drumbeat in his ears while he waited for her reply.

Lizzie sucked in her lips. She sat for several seconds, her fine brows pulled together in a manner of deep reflection, and then a smile—a knowing smile that spoke of an inner decision being reached—graced her lovely face. She placed her hand over his, slipping her fingers between his to link them together.

“Clay, I’ve lived my entire life on the other side of those trees, knowing the village existed but never being a part of it. When I was a little girl, I had no need for the villagers. I had Mama and Pa, and I was happy. But then Pa left, and Mama died, and I was alone.” Pain briefly puckered her lips, but then peacefulness washed over her countenance. “During those lonely years I pined for the village even while resenting it. I honored their ban against me even while inwardly hating them for rejecting me.”

Her fingers tightened, and Clay placed his other hand over hers. She offered a quick, appreciative smile before continuing.

“And then you and Vivian came along. You showed me friendship and affection even when I didn’t know how to reach back. You touched my heart.”

A flutter moved through Clay’s chest—his heart’s reaction to her sweetly spoken words.

Lizzie angled her head, peering at him with a pensive look. One braid framed her cheek, the tip of the other brushed Clay’s knuckles. Her blue eyes shimmered with an emotion that held him in place as effectively as a tether—a tether he had no desire to escape.

“You told me once that these people were your people, all created by the hands of the same Father-God. I didn’t understand, but now I do. I want the villagers”—she bobbed her chin in the direction of the village, one bright tear trailing down her cheek—“to know the peace and joy I now know. I want to be to them what you were to me—a living, breathing example of God’s presence.”

She shifted to face him again. Her tear-damp face glowed with an inner love that heightened her natural beauty. Clay’s breath caught in his throat as he gazed at this woman—this lovely, open, strong-willed Athabascan woman who now shared his passion for changing souls.

“More than anything else, I want to stay here . . . to abide in this village with my people and with you. But—” Her gaze dipped downward, her thick braids falling to swing gently above her lap. “If the council says no, I will honor them and go. God will make a place for me.” She lifted her head, once more looking him full in the face. Peace and confidence shone in her sky-colored eyes. “But I will never stop praying for Grandmother and my tribesmen to discover the love of my Father-God.”

Her answer, even more than Clay had hoped to hear, lifted him to a new height of delight but then plummeted him to fearful despair. Lizzie’s words told him she loved him and wanted a life with him. If he asked her to be his wife, he knew she would accept—he saw the truth in her eyes. But he didn’t yet have the freedom to ask. Not until they knew what the future held.

No matter what the council decided about Lizzie, he would stay in Gwichyaa Saa and minister to the villagers, as he’d been sent to do. They were the people entrusted to him by God, and he wouldn’t fail his Father by turning his back on them.

You sent me here for a purpose, Father, and I discovered more than I expected by falling in love with Lizzie. She loves You, too, and wants to serve You. Will You open the doors so she can serve right here, at my side, as my helpmeet and partner in the ministry to which You’ve entrusted me?

“Clay?” Lizzie’s whisper interrupted.

He looked at her, but she was looking ahead, toward the village. He shifted his attention, and his tongue suddenly seemed stuck to the roof of his mouth. Da’ago and three other elders moved in a solemn procession toward the mission.

Clay squeezed her hand, which still nestled between his. “Whatever they say, we’ll accept it as God’s will.”

Lizzie nodded, her face serene.

Clay rose, giving Lizzie’s hands a gentle pull that brought her up with him. “Come. Let’s go meet them.”