Prologue
Lakewood, Colorado, 1870
The route to Pastor Everett Burns’ house was merely a brisk, five-minute walk from Cora Williams’ home in Lakewood, a fact for which she was thankful, since she had been spending nearly every day tending to him since he had fallen ill weeks ago. On this occasion, however, she had taken a more scenic route, trekking through a meadow that ran between their homes.
She had gathered an assortment of wildflowers—Colorado Columbines, Fireweed, and Golden Banner. She arranged them into a bouquet so that the sky blue, lavender, and bright yellow hues were all mixed together. Cora smiled as she admired her work; this decorative composition of foliage was sure to bring life to Pastor Burns’ drab and sullen sick room.
Pastor Burns himself brought life to the town of Lakewood through his infectious faith and captivating sermons he delivered every Sunday. As a young girl, Cora would often stay in church after service was over to talk with Pastor Burns about the Scripture readings or just about God in general.
“What do you think Heaven is like?” she remembered asking him one time, when she was about ten years old. Everyone else had already left the church, and she would follow Pastor Burns out the door and walk with him in the direction of his house, where she could see his son, Roy, sitting on the swing, twisting the rope until it couldn’t go any further, and then letting go so he would spin around in a fast circle. Just watching him do that made Cora dizzy, but she wasn’t worried about him. She had a reason for her question, something that had been on her heart for a while.
“Well, Cora, no one knows for certain what Heaven will be like, because no one who has been has ever been able to return and report back. But we do have some clues from the Scriptures. We will be free from all the earthly woes—sadness, worry, fear, hurt, anger. We will be happy and at peace in God’s presence all the time.”
“Do you think I will be able to meet my mother when I get to Heaven?” Cora remembered that it had taken a lot of courage to ask this question because she was afraid that the answer she was hoping for wasn’t the answer she would be given.
But Pastor Burns put his hand on her shoulder, bent down to face her, and said, “Absolutely. I believe your mother is up there waiting for you right now, and one day—a long, long time from now, mind you—when you get to Heaven, it will be a joyous reunion indeed. And the best part will be that time doesn’t work the same way in Heaven, so for your mother, it will be like no time has passed at all.”
Cora’s heart had warmed at his answer, and she gave him a big hug before scurrying on home. Pastor Burns was always so patient and willing to answer any question she had about matters of faith, never giving any indication that her inquiries were foolish or impossible to answer. This was a stark contrast to her own father, who was so dedicated to his work as the town sheriff that he rarely had time to listen to Cora’s musings. Cora felt like most of the time, he considered her a nuisance. And anytime she tried to ask questions about her mother, who tragically died mere minutes after Cora’s birth, he would shut down entirely.
Ultimately, Sheriff Thomas Williams seemed to lack confidence in his abilities to raise a daughter in the absence of her mother, and the pain of losing Cora’s mother so suddenly made him disinclined to ever speak of her. Sheriff Williams was not cruel to Cora. He always provided for her needs, ensuring she had food in her belly and a safe place to rest her head at night. Seldom did he say a harsh word to her, but Cora would almost prefer if he did, rather than the stoic silence he usually kept as he maintained an emotional distance.
Perhaps that was why Pastor Burns was so special to Cora: he had stepped in to fill this missing piece to her life, the fatherly guidance that every young girl craved and needed, and for that, Cora would be eternally grateful.
As Cora approached the door to Pastor Burns’ house, a knowing shiver traveled up her spine, as if a divine presence was placing a gentle, comforting hand on her shoulder, preparing her for what she would discover when stepping through the threshold. She remembered what the pastor had said in one of his sermons about God sending his angels to watch and guide people during life’s most difficult moments—and to accompany them to His Kingdom at the hour of their deaths.
But Cora was not ready for the angels to come to this house. She was not ready to lose Pastor Burns, who had been a constant in her life for so long.
Cora entered the pastor’s home without knocking, as had become her routine through these past two weeks of tending to him in his illness. Even though Dr. Davenport came three times a day to check his vitals and administer medication, Cora had taken it upon herself to come as often as possible to ensure the pastor was comfortable and not alone, as Roy was his only child, and he had left home years ago without looking back.
Cora would eat breakfast with her father and come home to eat supper with him and do her evening devotionals before bed, but throughout the day, while her father was at work, she was by the pastor’s side, keeping his home tidy, reading him passages from the Bible until he fell asleep, or telling him lighthearted stories. On days when he was the weakest, she would help him shift positions so he wouldn’t get bed sores, which she read could be devastating, and often fatal, for sickly, bedridden patients.
However, she had a feeling that this visit would be different, that she would find the pastor in a much more dire situation than she last left him, that there would be no need for position changes, and that the mood would not be right for jovial storytelling. She wasn’t sure if this inclination came from God, or if it was mere human intuition, or perhaps some combination of the two. Nevertheless, she knew she had to mentally and emotionally brace herself for the worst possible scenario.
“Lord, please guide me and give me strength to be what Pastor Burns needs today, especially if his condition has worsened. Please help me to put aside my emotions and how hard this might be for me,” she prayed in earnest as she stepped through the door.
“Pastor Burns!” Cora alerted the pastor of her presence, pausing in the living area of the house before she entering his bedroom. She set the flowers down upon the foyer table so that her long, nimble fingers were free to fashion her honey-blonde hair into a braid over one shoulder. She feared that he would need immediate attention before the doctor could arrive, and she did not want her long hair to get in the way of any assistance he might need from her.
The pastor did not verbally respond to her introduction, but a deep, guttural moan sounded from the bedroom. Cora’s stomach churned and her heart lurched, as the sound that came from the pastor sounded more like a wounded animal than human. There was no denying that the circumstances had worsened.
She retrieved the wildflowers from the foyer table and entered his room. It was a small room with cream-colored walls and minimal décor, a four-poster bed where the pastor lay taking up most of the space. Although there wasn’t much else by way of furniture—only a small dresser, a wardrobe containing his nice clothes that he preached in on Sundays, a bedside table, and a wooden chair beside the bed. Cora had been diligent in dusting and tidying the room to ensure that the pastor had an orderly and peaceful place to rest. She was also quite familiar with the wooden chair, as it was where she sat for hours each day lately.
“I’m here, Pastor Burns. I will get you all cleaned up and comfortable, don’t you worry,” Cora said, forcing her face to not betray her emotions. Although she expected when she walked in that the illness had progressed, she hadn’t prepared herself for his appearance. His face was frail and gaunt, and his eyes were hollow. His skin had devolved to a pale yellow, evidence of the disease ravaging his body.
She placed the flowers in a vase by the bedside table, offering a splash of color to the otherwise bland room, and pushed open the window, craning her neck outside in search of someone to help. Providentially, the church gardener was coming around the corner of the house at that moment.
“Lionel!” Cora called, recognizing the fellow, as he had worked for years on the church. “Quickly, go get Dr. Davenport!”
“What’s wrong, is it the pastor? Is he getting worse?” Lionel demanded, worry etched across his features. Cora was perturbed that he was wasting time asking questions when her tone of voice clearly conveyed all the information he would need to know.
“There’s no time for all of your questions! Just go get the doctor, now!” Cora demanded. Lionel looked at her with an expression of shock to be given such frantic demands by a woman younger than him, but the urgency in her tone clearly left no room for argument. He dropped his spade and ran down the dirt path in the direction of Dr. Davenport’s clinic.
Meanwhile, Pastor Burns let out another unearthly groan of pain. She sat on the bedside chair and took his hand, which was cold and clammy.
“Hurts… everything… it hurts…” Pastor Burns choked out, and Cora could tell that every singular word was a monumental task that seemed to take from him the little strength he had remaining. Cora’s heart ached to see him this way. His once-square jaw now seemed to sag, and his blue eyes no longer held their sparkle, the twinkle in his eyes when he discussed both simple and complex theological matters. When Cora pictured Pastor Burns in her head, she didn’t see him like this. She only remembered his tall stature commanding a gentle authority from behind the pulpit. She had always associated his charcoal-gray hair with the kind of distinguished wisdom that came from age; now even that had paled and thinned, adding decades to his age.
“Shhh… please don’t speak, Pastor. You need to preserve your energy. Lionel is goin’ to get Dr. Davenport, and I know he will be here quickly like he always is. Perhaps he can give you something to relieve you of your pain, and then we will get you on the mend once more,” Cora reassured him, hoping her voice did not betray the uncertainty and fear that had settled in her heart.
She knew that he needed her to be strong for him, just as he was strong for her so many times throughout her childhood. When she was feeling lost, alone, or confused, and her father could not be bothered to offer comfort or fatherly advice, Pastor Burns filled that role in her life, becoming the voice of strength and reason that she needed. Now, it was her turn to do the same for him.
