Winter Is Past by Ruth Axtell Morren

I?”
    Althea smiled at her.
    â€œLet’s do it again!” Rebecca cried happily, turning her gaze back toward the garden.
    â€œVery well. But this time, don’t turn around until I tell you to.”
    Rebecca nodded happily.
    They played the game several times, at Rebecca’s insistence. The final time Althea quietly slipped outside the room and stood just beyond the doorway. After a while, she heard Rebecca’s “Miss Althea? Miss Althea? Are you there? Where are you?”
    Althea immediately stepped over the threshold. “Here I am. What did you feel that time?” she asked as she walked back to Rebecca’s chair.
    â€œI felt alone.” The child’s deep-set eyes, so much like her father’s, stared up at her in wonder. “I started wondering whether you were still there. The room felt empty. I waited a little longer, but then I couldn’t help calling out.”
    Althea knelt in front of her, taking both her hands in her own. “Sometimes we can’t feel the Lord’s presence, just as you experienced now. But once you have felt His presence, you’ll know even then that He’s still with you. Just as I was right nearby, just outside the door, God is always with you, even when you can’t feel His presence. He promises us, ‘I shall never leave you nor forsake you.’”
    â€œHow can I come to feel His presence the way I did yours?”
    Althea rubbed the back of the girl’s hands with her thumbs.“You invite Him into your heart. And you believe in your heart that He will come in.”
    â€œCan I do it right now?”
    Althea smiled. “Right now.”
    The little girl bowed her head and said a simple prayer beginning with “Dear God.” Althea was unsure whether to tell her about Jesus, not knowing how the girl’s father would feel about her evangelizing his daughter. Althea remained silent for the moment, knowing the Lord would guide her in that direction when the time was right.
    For the present, she knew God heard the girl’s prayer and would answer it.
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    A few days later Althea entered the house, the heavy front door shutting behind her with a bang on a gust of wind. She had had to bend her face downward during her walk, but the air had invigorated her. Surely if March were coming in like a lion, there was a good possibility it would go out like a lamb, she consoled herself as she wiped her boots against the mat in the quiet hall. She looked up startled at the sound of a throat clearing.
    The housekeeper stood with her hands folded in front of her. She looked like a plump, curved urn, round on top and bottom, cinched in at the waist by her apron ties. Tight curls framed a face prematurely wrinkled, as if a sculpture’s knife had slipped, leaving deep lines along her cheeks.
    â€œOh, pardon me, Mrs. Coates. I didn’t see you standing there. May I help you with anything?”
    â€œYes, miss, if you please.”
    Althea wondered at the subdued tone. “Let me just hang up my damp things and I shall be right with you.”
    She joined the housekeeper in her sitting room.
    â€œWould you like a cup of tea?” the housekeeper asked stiffly, gesturing toward the pot on the table before her.
    Amazed, Althea took a seat at the table. “That would be lovely. It’s quite cold outside.” She waited quietly as the housekeeperpoured the steaming liquid into a cup and covered the pot with a cozy.
    Mrs. Coates sat down opposite her. A stack of correspondence lay on the small table between them. Noticing her glance, the housekeeper said, “Them’s the replies.”
    â€œThe replies?”
    â€œFor the dinner he’s giving.”
    Not liking the way she was referring to their employer, Althea said, “The dinner Mr. Aguilar is hosting?”
    â€œThat’s right. The replies’ve been comin’ in. Most are acceptances.” Mrs. Coates sighed, her ample