Chapter 34: Sweet Hour of Prayer

~Stories are for eternity, when memory is erased, when there is nothing to remember except the story.~—Tim O’Brien

True to their word, Jake and Dannie returned in time to wash and change for supper. Sophie was determined not to lose Dannie to Jake again, and when the meal was over, she marched up to Dannie and grasped her arm.

“Dannie, why don’t we make some music together? You’ll play, and we can sing.”

Dannie was very pleased with the suggestion. “A fine idea, though perhaps slightly uncharacteristic for you.”

Sophie laughed and guided Dannie to the parlor, where the large pianoforte stood. To her annoyance, Jake shuffled after them, followed by Caleb, Mr. and Mrs. Martin, and Carolina.

“It’s not like we are gonna give a concert,” Sophie snapped.

“No need to advertise, then,” her father said with a laugh. “Apart from myself, the only other person who knows how to play is Dannie, and she’s been so busy working as a nurse there hasn’t been anyone to entertain us. When are you finally going to learn to play, Sophie?”

“Daddy!”

“What a pity we have no harp.” Mrs. Martin once more came to Sophie’s rescue and changed the subject. “I think I remember Dannie mentionin’ she plays quite well. Then we could have Chris and Dannie do a duet.”

“Wasn’t it a flute?” Jake asked Dannie in surprise.

“I can play the harp too.” Dannie’s eyes twinkled. “Only I haven’t played either since coming to America, so I am terribly out of practice. Mamma would probably have had a heart attack if she were to hear me trying to play now.”

“A flute is easier to find than a harp,” Mrs. Martin mused. “I believe I can convince my husband to purchase one for you.”

“Why did your Momma make you play all those instruments?” Caleb asked.

“All those instruments are just three, Caleb,” Dannie laughed. “Mamma was very musical; we used to play together a lot. She would play the piano while I chose the flute or the harp. Papa would act as our audience.” Dannie’s smile became wistful as she thought back to the days when her parents were alive.

“Robert always did love music,” Mr. Martin spoke up, “even though he was tone deaf. Poor man couldn’t tell one note from another. A person could sing completely off-key, and he would love it just the same.”

“He did love music,” Dannie agreed, her eyes becoming watery. “It has only recently been the anniversary of his death, so please allow me to play you the hymn he loved the most. Sophie, you know ‘Sweet Hour of Prayer,’ do you not?”

“Yes, I do.”

Dannie’s fingers lightly touched the piano, and the music flowed from the keys. In a quiet, clear voice, she began to sing.

~Sweet hour of prayer! Sweet hour of prayer!~

~That calls me from a world of care,~

~And bids me at my Father’s throne~

~Make all my wants and wishes known.~

Sophie joined in, and the two girls harmonized together.

~In seasons of distress and grief,~

~My soul has often found relief,~

~And oft escaped the tempter’s snare~

~By thy return, sweet hour of prayer!”~

When the hymn came to an end, Dannie had tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Dannie, you’re cryin’!” Sophie exclaimed.

“Of course, I’m crying.” Dannie tried to laugh as she wiped her eyes. “I’m singing the favorite hymn of my deceased father. It’s only been one year since his passing, you must remember. There are so many memories tied up in this little song. When I sing, they flood my mind, and I cannot stop the tears.”

“Dannie, yours is the prettiest voice I’ve ever heard,” Jake said in a gentle voice.

She acknowledged this compliment with a soft smile, her cheeks burning.

“And the two of you together don’t sound too bad.”

“Oh how kind, Jake!” Sophie rolled her eyes. “Who would have thought I could get some sort of a compliment out of you?”

“For you, Miss Martin, I’ve got a stash of such compliments to last a lifetime.”

“Hush, the two of you,” Mrs. Martin scolded as she handed her husband a handkerchief.

“Daddy, you’re cryin’ too!” Sophie exclaimed in dismay. “What is it with this song that makes everyone cry?”

“I’m sorry, Sophie.” Mr. Martin wiped his eyes with his wife’s handkerchief. “Heaven knows, I’m not the crying sort, but that song is something of a knife to my heart.”

“Why?” Sophie prodded. “Just because it was the favorite hymn of a cousin?”

“Not just a cousin, a cousin whom I loved as a brother. How unfair it seems that I should be living, and he should be dead.”

“I did not think you and my father were close,” Dannie said quietly. “Father never spoke of you much either, though he always kept this photograph framed in his study.”

Mr. Martin gazed sadly at Dannie. “Dannie, sometimes a man wonders whether, had he been wiser in his youth, many things in his life would have turned out differently.

“Your father and I grew up together. Robert’s mother was my mother’s sister. She died when he was still a young child, and his father, John Preston, was far too busy with his occupation as an attorney to care for his son. From the age of four, Robert lived in our home and was raised by my parents. He became a brother to me, and since I also had no siblings, we became close.

“Our paths took very different directions as we grew. Robert’s path led him to the church. He always wanted to be a minister, said it was his calling in life. I never understood such nonsense. I thirsted for adventure, wanted to travel and see things.

“By this time, my father had died, and it was just Mother and me. In gratitude for raising his son, John Preston offered to pay for my schooling. I wanted to join the navy, but Mother forbade it, telling me I could choose between the law, the church, and medicine.

“None of the options appealed to me, but in the end I decided on medicine. A year later, John Preston died, but left enough money for both Robert and me to complete our studies. There was even a small amount to help us get established once we graduated.

“Two years after Mr. Preston’s death, my own mother passed away, and the first thing I did was drop medical school. I wanted to go to America and try my hand at something I had never done before. England held no prospects for me.

“With nothing to hold me back, I was determined to spread my wings and fly. Robert said it was very immature behavior and advised that I should at least finish studying and get an occupation. It would be beneficial in establishing myself once I came to America.

“We had quite an argument on the matter. It was the one and only time I ever saw him become angry and raise his voice. Robert told me his father didn’t leave me money so I could throw it away on foolish passions.

“The fact that he was so unsupportive was bad enough, but then he lectured and scolded me as though I were a child, preaching at me in a superior manner. This was more than my pride could bear. It was the first time we ever spoke such harsh words to each other, and it ended with me storming away.

“Two days later, I set sail for America to make my fortune. And as you can well see, I truly have made it—but I never tried to restore contact with Robert.

“At first I was angry with him and didn’t want to communicate. I felt he had no business knowing anything about me. He tried to stop me from achieving my dreams, so he had no right to share in my success.

“With time, the anger faded, but I had already put Robert and England behind me and thought little of either. And then, one day, one day…” Mr. Martin paused and glanced over at Dannie. The entire room was silent as they listened with held breath to the tale. “One day a little lady shows up in Hopewing and shows me an old photograph.”

Mr. Martin’s gaze went down to his hands, and he let out a sad chuckle. “It turns out she is my cousin’s daughter. For one moment I thought perhaps this was the golden chance to reunite with him, but within a couple of sentences, I hear that Robert is dead.

“I tried not to show it, but the news cut me to the heart. I realized I had waited for too long, and Robert was gone for good. I had hardly thought of him the past couple of years, and that only added to my shame.

“Why hadn’t I written to him? Why hadn’t I told him of how I was doing? Why hadn’t I asked after him? Why had I allowed my anger to ruin our brotherhood?

“Those are questions I cannot answer, no matter how many times I ask them.

“That song, Sweet Hour of Prayer, he was singing it to himself the fateful day when I came to tell him my plans.

“Robert was a terrible singer, but that never stopped him from singing when no one was around. I interrupted him when I entered the room, and he looked over at me and said, ‘Chris, be sure to have that song played at my funeral.’

“I laughed at this, and promised that, if I was still alive, I would lead the singing.”

Mr. Martin broke off and looked into the distance. “That was the last promise I ever made to Robert, the last promise—and I never kept it, and never will be able to.”