A Whisper of Peace

Chapter Thirty-Eight





TWO YEARS LATER


Lizzie sagged in exhaustion—had she ever worked so hard?—but she held out her eager arms. “Let me hold her.”

Vivian set aside the soft cloth she’d used to bathe the squalling baby. “Just as soon as I wrap her up. Maybe she’ll stop complaining if we get her warm.”

Lizzie watched Vivian swaddle the squirming little girl in a caribou hide, her arms itching with impatience. Hurry, hurry, her heart begged. She’d hardly been given a glimpse of the newborn before Co’Ozhii handed her to Vivian to be cleansed.

Vivian laughed, the sound nearly swallowed by the baby’s unhappy wails, as she placed the bundle in Lizzie’s waiting arms. “She certainly is a noisy one. She must have quite a bit of her papa in her.”

Lizzie peered into the red, wrinkled face of her firstborn child. A love more all-encompassing than anything she could imagine swelled in her heart. Surely it would burst, so great was her joy. She touched the tiny rosebud mouth, and the hiccupping wail abruptly stopped. The little lips sucked fiercely on Lizzie’s finger for a few seconds and then, with a few shuddering sobs, the baby closed her puffy eyes, and she fell asleep.

Lizzie lifted her head and sought Co’Ozhii, who’d moved to the foot of the bed and stood gazing at the mother and daughter, her lined face creased with a smile. “A girl, Grandmother, just as we wanted.” She shifted her attention again to the baby nestled in the crook of her arm. Tears welled in Lizzie’s eyes. So tiny and innocent, created by the love she and Clay shared. Clay needed to meet this little girl. She flicked a pleading glance at Co’Ozhii. “Bring Clay in now?”

Co’Ozhii had insisted Clay stay away during the birthing. She’d placed Vivian as sentinel on the doorstep to be certain he didn’t try to sneak in. But now that the baby and Lizzie were presentable, it was time for the new father to meet his baby daughter. Co’Ozhii shuffled to the window and threw it wide, allowing in the sweet breeze of early fall. She called, “Yuxudz xidinuxdal—you come in!”

Moments later, footsteps pounded and the sleeping room door flew open. Clay, Naibi, Etu, and Vivian’s husband spilled into the room. Co’Ozhii clucked in disapproval and stepped into their pathway, holding back all but Clay. He dashed to the bed and sat gingerly on its edge, his eyes locked on the little face peeking out from the fur blanket. Lizzie experienced a second rush of tears, witnessing Clay’s wonder.

“A girl?” he said on a breathless note.

Lizzie nodded, her gaze flicking from Clay to their daughter and to Clay again. “Our Nayeli is here.” They’d chosen the Kiowa name meaning “I love you.” Lizzie chuckled softly. “But our next baby will be Judson. She’ll need a brother to watch over her.”

“Or maybe” —Vivian inched past Co’Ozhii, drawing her husband, Leonard, by the hand—“she’ll have a strong, brave boy cousin to watch over her instead.”

Clay aimed a startled look at his stepsister and brother-in-law. “You—already?”

Leonard wrapped his arms around Vivian from behind, smiling at Clay and Lizzie over Vivian’s head. “Already. I suppose we don’t wait for anything, do we?” He placed a kiss on Vivian’s temple.

“I suppose you don’t,” Clay said with a laugh. He winked at Lizzie, and Lizzie smiled in reply.

They’d wondered if Vivian was rushing into things when she wrote about falling in love with Leonard Warren, a schoolteacher she’d met at church in Massachusetts. Only two months after meeting, the two exchanged vows at the chapel on the Kiowa reservation with Clay’s father officiating the ceremony and Vivian’s mother standing up beside her daughter.

When Leonard expressed a desire to use his teaching abilities in a mission setting, Clay’s father and stepmother suggested the pair join Clay and Lizzie in Alaska. Lizzie had rejoiced in having her dear friend close by once again, and the newly married couple eased much of the work load, allowing Clay to travel to several other villages to share about Father-God. Lizzie sometimes wondered how she and Clay had managed an entire year without their assistance.

Lizzie caught Vivian’s hand and gave it a tight squeeze. “Congratulations, Vivian and Leonard.”

Naibi and Etu tried to sneak past Co’Ozhii for a peek at the baby, but the sharp-eyed woman swooped down on them. “Out, out,” she scolded, pointing to the door. “Children out. White Feather and baby must sleep.” She waved her arms, shooing the two crestfallen children out the door. She whirled on Vivian and Leonard, her gnarled fists on her hips. “You go, too. Leave the mother, father, and baby alone.”

Vivian giggled. “We’ll go.” She tipped forward, bestowing kisses on first Lizzie’s cheek and then Clay’s. “She’s beautiful, reflecting the best of both of you.” Then, hand in hand with Leonard, she scurried out the door.

Co’Ozhii followed, pausing in the doorway. She peered back for a moment. Tears winked in her deeply lined eyes. “Ngp’adist’a—all of you.”

Lizzie touched her lips with her fingers and flicked an imaginary kiss in her grandmother’s direction. “We love you, too, Vitse.”

With a gentle nod, Co’Ozhii closed the door, sealing away Lizzie, Clay, and their little daughter from the rest of the world.

Clay sighed, peering down contentedly at the sleeping baby in his arms. “Vivian was right—I see both of us in Nayeli. She has your beautiful skin, my light brown hair, your heart-shaped face . . .” He slipped his finger beneath the baby’s tiny hand. Perfectly formed, minute fingers gripped him in return. He grinned. “And my long fingers. She’ll be an accordion player. I just know it.”

Lizzie chuckled softly. “Perhaps we should wait a year or two before you begin lessons.”

“No more than two,” Clay teased.

Lizzie watched her husband rock their daughter, his dear eyes glittering with unshed tears. Had her father held her in his arms and smiled at her in this way when she was born? The musing brought no sting of pain. Knowing she was loved unconditionally and forever by Father-God had replaced the hurt of her earthly father’s abandonment.

She reached up and cupped the baby’s head, joining the three of them together. “Clay?”

“Hmm?” He seemed unable to take his eyes off his daughter.

“I’m very sleepy.”

His concerned gaze zinged to meet hers. “Do you want me to go?”

She shook her head. “No. I want you to pray with us before I fall asleep.”

Clay’s tender smile warmed her from the center of her soul. He lay little Nayeli in the crook of her arm and then slipped to his knees beside the bed. She closed her eyes as Clay’s deep voice addressed their Father. He thanked God for the new life He’d entrusted to them and asked for wisdom in guiding Nayeli to a relationship with her Father-God one day. He asked health and strength for the tiny babe growing in Vivian’s womb.

“We praise You, our Father, for the opportunity to serve You here together. We thank You for the precious gift of family. May we abide—ever, always—joyfully and peacefully in the shadow of Your wings. Amen.”

He opened his eyes and leaned forward, his lips meeting hers in a kiss salty from happy tears. He then delivered a kiss on their daughter’s fuzzy head. Very gently he tucked the blanket beneath Lizzie’s chin. “Sleep now, little mother,” he whispered, his voice as soft as the cottonwood seeds that floated on the summer breeze.

Lizzie gave a contented sigh and allowed her eyes to drift closed. She slipped away to sleep, thanking the Father for the gift of Clay’s love and dreaming of the blessings yet to come.



Acknowledgments


Mom, Daddy, and Don—our time together in Alaska lives on in my heart as one of my most treasured memories. I’m so grateful for the family with which God gifted me.

Judith Miller, Nancy Moser, and Stephanie Whitson—thank you for your suggestions when brainstorming this story. Thank you also for the sweet time of fellowship.

My amazing critique group—thanks for taking these mad dashes through manuscripts with me and for being my friends. You are appreciated.

Aunt Vivian—thank you for letting me borrow your name.

Charlene and the wonderful folks at Bethany House—thank you for sharing this ministry with me. I thank my God upon every remembrance of you.

Finally, and most importantly, God—thank You for gifting me with the desire to put words on paper and opening the door to a writing ministry. I stand in awe of You! May any praise or glory be reflected directly back to You.





About the Author


KIM VOGEL SAWYER is the author of more than twenty novels, including many CBA and ECPA bestsellers. Her books have won the ACFW Carol Award, the Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence, and the Inspirational Readers Choice Award. Kim is active in her church, where she leads women’s fellowship and participates in both voice and bell choirs. In her spare time, she enjoys drama, quilting, and calligraphy. Kim and her husband, Don, reside in Central Kansas, and have three daughters and nine grandchildren.