The Reluctant Bridegroom by Gilbert Morris

from the bedside and went to the basin, washing her face and hands. She was trembling all over, her heart beating wildly. Sitting down at the table, she rested her arms and hid her face on them, trying to get control. She tried to pray, but her mind whirled and it seemed to do no good.
    All afternoon she cared for the sick woman, leaving onlyonce to go see that Timmy was all right. The long day passed, and night came on. She lay on her bed, exhausted from lack of sleep. It was totally dark when she heard Mary call out. She got up from the bed at once, and found Mary awake, trying to speak through lips that were parched and dry. Rebekah quickly lifted the sick woman and gave her a drink, then lowered her.
    “Get Timmy,” Mary whispered.
    “Mary, do you think—?”
    “Quick—quick! I must—see my baby!”
    Rebekah took a quick breath. “I’ll be right back, Mary!”
    She ran to the Satterfields and knocked on the door. Amy Satterfield opened the door and knew at once. “She’s goin’, Rebekah?”
    “Yes—she wants to see Timmy.” She took the child and ran back to put him in Mary’s arms, knowing no harm would come to the baby because cholera was caught by drinking contaminated water. Mary’s dull eyes brightened as she pulled the cover back from the baby’s face. With a trembling finger she traced his tiny lips, his smooth cheeks. Tears ran down her face as she whispered so quietly that Rebekah had to lean forward to hear:
    “I’ll not be here to see you grow up—but you’ll have a fine mother, Timmy. God has promised me . . . she’ll take care of you—and she’ll never let you forget me. . . .” Her voice faltered, and she turned her head to look at Rebekah.
    “Becky—my Becky!” Her voice was weak, but her worn face was transformed by a look of utter peace. She reached out one thin hand to wipe away the tears that flowed down Rebekah’s cheeks. “Don’t you cry, dearie! Our Father has promised us, don’t you remember?”
    “Mary!” Rebekah cried. “What will I do without you?”
    Mary’s wonderful smile made her look years younger. “The Lord came to me just now—while you was goin’ for Timmy. He said it was time for me to come and be with Him—butHe said that you’d be a mother to both our babies—and that He’d never leave you.”
    Her eyes fluttered, and she settled back in her pillow. She gave Timmy’s face one more caress, kissed him, and she said with her last breath: “So good of God . . . to care for . . . our babies . . . !”
    And then she was still.
    Rebekah bent down and kissed the hollow cheek, then picked up the baby. Holding him tightly, she whispered, “I’m your mother now, Timmy!”
    The funeral was the next day. Rebekah was surprised at the crowd that came to bid her friend farewell. Amy Satterfield and another neighbor had prepared the body, and several of the men made the rough pine coffin. A minister from the church preached the funeral sermon, and many of the members of the church ringed the grave as the coffin was lowered into the earth.
    Somehow Rebekah survived. She took the words of comfort that many stopped to give her, but it was caring for Timmy that kept her from breaking down. She did not leave him for one minute, and as Mary’s body was lowered into the ground, she made a promise to God: God, I’ll keep my word to Mary. I’ll be a mother to Timmy—and you must take care of us both!
    Three days after the funeral, a large man came by the house. “I’m Mr. Simmons, from the orphanage,” he said. “Dr. Gleason has told us about the boy.”
    “I’m going to take care of him,” Rebekah assured him.
    He regarded her a moment, then asked, “Are you a relative?”
    “No, but—”
    “Are you able to take care of him? Do you have work?”
    “Well, not right now, but I can find a job.”
    He considered her uncertainly. “I know how you feel, miss—but we have to think of the boy.”
    “I can take care of him!” she insisted, but she saw