Jolene’s
Divine Romance
By Lena Nelson Dooley
December1886
Jolene Whitworth stared out the
window hazed by smoke as the steam engine slowly chugged through a pass in the
Rocky Mountains. The higher they climbed, the harder it was for her to breathe
the cold air. Weary and worn, she glanced down at her wilted traveling suit,
covered with sooty dust. No matter how hard she swiped at her skirt, nothing
removed the look or smell attached to her clothing. Even the hanky tucked into
the sleeve of her jacket might never be white again. She hated to think what
her blonde curls looked like pinned up into the best chignon she could
accomplish by herself. If only she hadn=t
needed to leave her personal companion and maid back in New York City, but
Charlotte never would have agreed to come this far from home.
What
am I doing out here in the wilderness of western Colorado? The words
repeated through her mind, over and over like some ancient chant. Memories of
what she had left behind, her beautiful home overlooking the Hudson River, the
place she=d lived all
her life in the lap of luxury.
Was this journey worth it? It was
if her stepfather and the man he promised her to in marriage couldn=t find her. There was no
way she=d ever let
that man touch her in any way, especially not an intimate one. Shivers, not
brought on by the cold, skittered up and down her body, making hairs stand on
end. Just the thought made her feel dirty ... much more filthy than this
uncomfortable trip had been. This could wash off. The other would have tainted
her life until her dying day. Why hadn=t
Mr. Curtis seen Mr. Rivers for the fiend he really was? Was money and power
that important to him?
She knew her stepfather hated to
look at her because she looked just like her mother. But that was no reason to
sell her to the highest bidder as if she were a slave. Her grandfather had
given their family=s
slaves their manumission papers years before the War Between the States.
With a long, mournful wail from its
whistle, the engine started to brake, accompanied by the harsh grinding of
metal as it came to a stop by the platform in front of the tiny train depot.
What
have I gotten myself into? As she stepped from the open doorway, it was
like a leap into a different world. Maybe a world that would wipe out the
horrible one she’d experienced.
A woman, heavy with child, rushed
toward her. “Jolene, I’m so glad you’re here.”
Her roommate from the finishing
school back East hugged her tight. She hadn’t had a hug since her mother died,
so she clung to her dearest, and only, friend.
“Come with me.” Barbara released
her. “Dean has the buggy waiting with hot bricks to warm our feet.”
They hurried toward the buggy and
the handsome, blond giant holding the reins. Jolene’s trunk was already behind
the seat.
“My husband is the pastor of the
church on Ten Mile Creek below Buffalo Mountain. Many of our parishioners are
miners, but there are a few families in the neighborhood, too.” By the time
they reached the buggy, Barbara was huffing and puffing.
Jolene hoped her friend was O. K.
Before long, they arrived at a log
cabin with smoke drifting from the chimney. “Welcome to our humble home.” By
the time Barbara finished that sentence, her husband lifted her by her almost
nonexistent waist and set her on the ground.
When he reached for Jolene, she
shook her head. “I’m fine.” She carefully placed her foot on the tiny step,
turned around, and backed to the ground. She’d had too many men wanting to
touch her body. Her friend’s husband didn’t need to join them, even though his
intentions were pure. She brushed off her gloves and reached for the carpetbag
she’d kept with her on the train. Dean hoisted her trunk onto his broad
shoulders as if it didn’t contain so many heavy books. She followed Barbara
into the snug home, glad for the heat surrounding her. She wondered how long it
would take for her to feel truly warm all over. Her body had been cold for most
of the journey, and her soul for so much longer.
After they finished the hot elk
stew and biscuits Barbara served, the two women sat before the fire and caught
up on what had happened in their lives since they parted. A sense of peace that
Jolene didn’t understand settled over her. Maybe she would be safe here.
For the next four days, she
acclimated to the deep snow and cold winds that assailed her every time she
even peeked out the door. She never tired of gazing at the majestic mountains
surrounding the cabin. They looked as if they reached the sky.
On Saturday night, while Dean
worked on his sermon for the next day, Barbara asked Jolene whether she went to
church back home.
Jolene shook her head. “Not since
my mother died.” Which felt like an eternity ago.
Being accepted for who she was and
loved by her good friend, Jolene poured out her heart to Barbara. About feeling
abandoned when her mother died … about being hated by her stepfather … about
being exploited by him trying to build his wealth and power through the men he
brought into her life … even about despising the men and the way they looked at
her and made her feel unloved and dirty.
With every word she spoke, a bit of
her burden broke off and disappeared, as if by magic. At least here, in these
beautiful mountains, she was accepted for who she really was, not for what
someone else could gain from her.
When she finished talking, Barbara
stretched her hand across the lamp table separating them and clasped one of
Jolene’s in her own. “I’m so sorry you’ve had such hardship in your life. I
know your sweet mother would be heartbroken.”
Tears streamed down Jolene’s
cheeks. She swiped at them with her other hand.
“I’m sure your mother wanted you to
know about Jesus, but she died too soon to really tell you much about Him. We
were so young when they sent us to that finishing school. She and my mother
became friends when we were roommates. Didn’t you know?”
Jolene shook her head. There were
many things she hadn’t known.
Barbara began telling her about
Jesus. How He was the Son of God. How He came to earth to die on the cross so
He could provide people with a way to get to Heaven. How He loved each person
so deeply that He would have done it even if only one person needed Him.
New concepts danced through
Jolene’s head. The real kind of love she craved. Was it within her reach?
“The Bible even says that we are
engraved on the palm of God’s hand.” Barbara laid her hand across her heart. “I
asked Jesus to come into my heart and be the Lord and Savior of my life. It
changed me in a way I’d never known before.”
Jolene leaned toward her friend. “I
want that. What do I have to do?”
Barbara smiled. “Jesus did it all.
It’s His gift to each of us. All you have to do is accept.”
Jolene shifted to sit on the very
edge of her chair. “How do I do that?”
“You just pray and ask Him into
your heart.” Barbara’s smile widened.
“You mean like, ‘Now I lay me down
to sleep’?”
“That was a good prayer for while
we were children.” She lumbered to her feet to stand beside Jolene. “Just talk
to Jesus the same way you’re talking to me. Tell Him what you feel about how
your life is going. That you know He is the Son of God and that you want to
repent of your sins and ask Him into your life.”
As Jolene prayed out loud, Barbara
walked beside her as she paced across the cabin. Soft whispers Jolene couldn’t
understand came from between her lips, and Jolene knew she was praying for her.
When Jolene finally stopped, joy
had invaded her soul. She felt clean and warm. All her fears had disappeared.
As they left for the Christmas
morning church service, Jolene felt like a new person, with a life filled with
hope ahead of her. Jesus is already
making a difference in my life.
©2016, Lena Nelson Dooley
(An excerpt from a novel to be written)
If you are on our mailing list for our Christmas letter and story, you will receive those in January. Until then, enjoy the story here.
Do you like Christmas stories? Have you ever written one?
Do you like Christmas stories? Have you ever written one?
5 comments:
Merry Christmas! I've never written a Christmas story.
I love your story! I have never written one. I'm not that talented!!
Love the story Merry Christmas, I just read them not write them. :-)
No, I've never written one but I certainly love reading them and I truly enjoyed yours. Thank you for sharing.
Happy New Year!
Connie from KY
I really enjoyed your story, and, no, I have never tried to do any writing. Best Wishes for the New Year!
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