DREAMS DO COME TRUE

HUGHES, LATAINE WILSON

The train pulled to a stop in the little town in California; passengers got off and a few got on. Among the five or six who alighted was a lovely young woman in a gray traveling suit, with matching hat and gloves. The three pieces of luggage which she deposited on the platform were not an evidence of wealth, but the quality of the leather gleaming in the afternoon sun was sufficient to prove that she was not just an ordinary person. She shaded her eyes for a moment as she looked about her. A taxi stood at the end of the platform, and she signaled for it. As she stepped into the cab she exclaimed, "Why Harold! Hello! When did you start in this business?"

The driver grinned, blushed profusely, and stammered. "Hello, Miss Grayson. I'm not hacking permanently - just for the summer. You see, I'm going to college next year, so I had to work at something. So far this has been the only job I could find. Suppose you want to go directly to your folks? Guess they didn't know you were coming in today, did they? If they had, they'd have been down here to meet you."

"No, this is a surprise. I thought I'd go directly to the university from school, but I finally decided to come home for a few days' visit first. After being in a classroom for nine months I thought I might enjoy a week's rest before I started in again."

"Are you still teaching English at the junior college, Miss Grayson?"

"Oh yes. That's my life. I'll get my doctor's degree next year if I go to the university this summer and next fall. Seems like years since I began working on it. When I started to college I thought four years was a long time. I never dreamed I'd keep on studying for 14!

A pained expression seemed to flit momentarily across Bess Grayson's face, and Harold thought it best to say no more. He had heard his mother speak of the Graysons and their daughter, Bess, an unusually brilliant and beautiful teacher, who was on the faculty of the junior college two hundred miles away. When he was in the primary division in Sabbath school, she had taught his class, and he had learned of many interesting points in the Bible that he did not know were intriguing and important. Sometimes on Sabbath afternoons she had taken her class on nature walks and shown them the different kinds of wild flowers and told them their names. He remembered that John Hamilton had walked with them sometimes for the pleasure of being with Miss Grayson. But something had gone wrong; and he knew that the last few summers when she had been home John had seen her only at church a few times. She was such a pretty woman, and dressed so well! "I wonder why she didn't marry John?" Harold thought as he drove up to the neat white stucco home of her parents.

He carried Bess Grayson's bags to the door, and she slipped a $5 bill into his hand saying, "Thank you, Harold. Where did you say you were going to school?"

"To Glenwood. I have a cousin living near the college, and I'll live with him. That way it won't be so expensive for the folks."

"Well, I wish you luck. Your college days are the ones you'll remember. Make them as happy as you can, Harold. When they are gone, life with its stern realities begins."

"Yes, Miss Grayson," he replied, a little puzzled. And then, "I-I-I wish you would teach our Sabbath School class this summer. Our teacher will be gone, and there doesn't seem to be anyone to take it."

"Oh my," laughed Bess, "It's been years since I taught in Sabbath School. I think you were in my class the very last time when I was home for all summer. I'm afraid I won't be here long, and anyway I'm pretty rusty about the Bible."

"Well, goodbye, and thanks so much for the $5. If you stay, we'd still like to have you," and Harold turned down the winding flower-banked walk.

For a moment the young woman stood watching him as he made his way back to the cab. "He hasn't changed since he was in my class," she mused. "He was always eager to catch each point that was discussed and never tired of learning. He'll make his mark in the world," she decided as she turned the knob to the front door.

"Hello everybody," she called, and from the kitchen an elderly woman with lovely silver hair came out with a dish towel in her hand. At the sight of her daughter she ran to her with outstretched arms.

"Bess, my dear, why didn't you tell us you were coming? I had no idea--"

"I know, mother, I thought I'd go straight to the university, but I'm a little tired and I wanted to see you and dad first. I want to do some shopping too, It's so good to be home."

"Your father will be pleased, dear. He'll be here at five o'clock. Take off your hat and gloves and rest. I'll take your things up to your room."

"Oh, no mother, just leave them there in the hall and I'll go on up in a few minutes. I want to visit right now. Tell me all the news."

"There isn't much to tell. Ruth Barnes the girl you chummed with when you both were in the academy, has a new baby boy. She named him after her doctor."

"John?"

"Yes. He's a darling baby. His daddy would have been so proud of him if he'd lived. He's named after him, too, John Russell. Now you just sit there and rest a bit while I run upstairs and get your room ready - it won't take but a few minutes. After a delicious dinner, during which news was exchanged between parents and daughter, Bess declared she would do the dishes, but as usual her mother protested, and she had to be content with drying them. Everything seemed so natural, she thought, as she ran her hand through her auburn hair, a gesture that was as much a part of Bess as her hand itself. She could not remember how many years it had been this way, with mother washing the dishes and she drying them. Of all the places she had been, it was always home she thought of most, because she could depend on its never changing.

Bess had been home several days when her mother invited her to go to Dorcas one afternoon, but she declined, saying that she wanted to take up to the attic some things she no longer needed, and pack them in her old trunk. However, she could not repress the question on her lips, "I suppose John's wife attends the Dorcas regularly?" Her mother looked at her keenly but did not comment upon the obvious reasons for her inquiry.

"No, she has been ill for quite some time," she said simply.

Mrs. Grayson left, and Bess went upstairs to the attic. As she opened the lid of her trunk she found her old "Memory Lane" album lying on top. In it were all the little things a girl will keep: souvenirs, clippings, programs, ribbons -- many things to which at the moment she could attach no significance. But when she saw a ticket that read, "Good for one glass lemonade, school picnic," she smiled faintly. That had been her junior year in the academy.

Instead of getting the lemonade that afternoon at three o'clock when it was served, John Hamilton had asked her to take a walk out to see the wild flowers by the river. He was a senior that year and would be graduated in two weeks. He told her he was going to college, and would enroll for premedical work. She had known ever since he was in the sixth grade and she in the fifth that he wanted to be a surgeon some day but this particular afternoon he told her something far more important. He told her he had decided to be a medical missionary. He explained how he had thought it all out, and had dedicated his talent to the Lord. Bess was so happy she could not find words to speak. She had dreamed since girlhood of going across the ocean and teaching in a mission station school. Her A's in Spanish had not been for nothing. Standing there by the river, she felt no one but Johnny would ever share her heart and life. However, realizing the years of hard work and study ahead, they only smiled their thoughts and Bess wished John all the success in the world.

That next year when she had been graduated from the academy, he was not able to attend commencement, but he sent her lovely white Bible with this note: "I think you know what this stands for; keep it until the day when I can tell you in words." Bess had kissed the little Bible and put it away with her dreams of that day.

The next year she had gone to John's college. Then they had their first real dates. Because Bess was an "A" student she was able to earn most of her expenses by tutoring. John also worked long hours because he was responsible for half of his expenses. But whenever they could, they talked of their dreams together and of that day when they would leave their native land to give new life to the poor humanity in need of the help that only missionaries can give.

In due time John went to medical school, and Bess's roommate, Ann, became a student nurse on the same campus. But she continued her work at the old college. John's letters came regularly, and frequently, at first: then as he became more and more occupied with the heavy grind of study and training, they came less often. However, generous-hearted Bess made an allowance for that, and kept her part of the correspondence regular, and at the level and tone on which they had parted.

The summer before her senior college year she had gone down to visit John for a week. She stayed with Ann, of course. At first Bess did not notice the change in her friend, but gradually it became apparent that Ann was much quieter than during their college days, and when Bess spoke of John, she only nodded her head or changed the subject. She had been there two days before John could be free for an afternoon. Bess packed a lunch and planned to drive out into the country, where it would be cool, perhaps up into the foothills. At noon Ann came into the room and announced that John was in the parlor waiting for her. She slipped an arm around Bess and whispered, "Have a good time, Bessie. I wish the best for you."

The two rode in silence to a little lake that reminded Bess of the place at home where they had gone many times. As they walked beside the water John talked about various medical subjects in terms Bess sometimes could not understand, but she listened intently to every word. In another year he would be graduated. There would be a year of internship and then -- they could start their lifework together. Bess said, "John, I'll finish next year, and I hope I can teach near here. Then we could be married, and with what I make you wouldn't have to borrow any more money. We could begin working together before we go to a mission field.

John was embarrassed, but he explained that Ann's parents had lent him some money despite his objections, that they insisted on seeing him through his course, that of course he would pay every cent of it back. "But", he added, "it wouldn't be fair for a man to marry when he has obligations such as mine staring him in the face." After a moment of silence he went on to say, "Bess, I want to tell you --."

But she being an intelligent girl, and loving John as she did, knew in her heart almost before he spoke what he wanted to say. She, too, was proud, and to spare him the words she cut in quickly, "I know, John. Ann has taken my place in your heart."

John turned pale and his lips quivered, but Bess went on: "It's all right. You have much in common. She, as a nurse, can help you as I never could. I want to wish you all the happiness in the world."

"But how did you know, Bess? I mean, I don't know how or when this all happened, and I wouldn't have told you, but I want to be honest with you always, and I do love you."

"It's all right," Bess said simply and her lips were tightly pressed to keep them from trembling.

Bess graduated at the top of her class. She was as beautiful as a statue in her black cap and gown -- a beautiful but cold statue. Her head was high, as it always had been, but her eyes looked straight ahead as if they were not ssing, or as if she were not hearing the highest honrs that were being bestowed upon her. Her parents were proud as they stood back a little so they could see their daughter every minute of the time and rink in her beauty. But in her heart Mrs. Grayson prayed, for she realized that something had happened to her girl.

Bess did not come home for the summer after her graduation as her parents had planned. The room they had redecorated for her stood empty and the many offers she had to teach in denominational academies were turned down. Instead, the new Bess Grayson went to the university to study for her Master's degree. At the end of the summer she came home for two weeks' rest before school opened. The day before she was to leave she received an announcement of Ann's graduation. When she finished reading it she calmly tore it to bits, and blinded by tears, stumbled to her room. There she went to her closet, drew forth a box, and took out a little white Bible still shrouded in tissue paper. She wrapped it carefully for mailing, wrote Ann's name and address on the outside and walked straight to the post office and mailed it without a moment's hesitation along the way.

The next day she boarded the train for a town two hundred miles distant where she had accepted a position in the English department of the junior college. Mother, who saw her off, prayed tearfully, "Soften her heart, God, and make her my little girl again."

During the next two years Bess became the most popular teacher on the campus. Gradually the school activities began to fill her life and mend the broken heart she had sealed against the world. The young women in the most popular sorrority invited her to be their sponsor. The initiation dance was held on Friday night, but Bess had learned by now to disregard her conscience. She never looked lovelier than she did in her floor-length net dress, and her charming personality made her many new friends.

At the end of the school year the Board asked her to head the English department, a request which meant she must go to the university to finish the few hours she lacked for her Master's degree.

She had been at home for two weeks at the end of the summer when she accidentally met Dr. John Hamilton on the street. She greeted him politely, inquired about his wife, and asked hesitantly if they were sailing for the mission field soon. He explained that Ann thought it best not to take their baby daughter overseas, and they had therefore decided that he should go into private practice for the time being. Bess wished his success and hurried on. She noticed how tired John looked, and the sad expression in his eyes. No, she was just imagining things. He probably had decided there was not enough money in missionary work, and that being in the United States was more convenient after all. She felt the same way herself.

And so the years had passed. Bess pushed higher and higher in her profession. She attended church only when she was visiting her parents, but it made her so uneasy that for days afterward her old shattered dreams seemed to torment her. She never asked about John and Ann when she was home, but occasionally she would overhear her mother speak of what a lovely home and daughter Ann had, or mention that John was looking so much older. Ann's ill health had kept her from attending church for the past year, but John came every Sabbath. He was, yes, of all things, the missionary leader. Bess wondered whether he had ever really forgotten his plans to be a missionary? But then he was the most prominent man in the church so it was logical that he should be in an official position. He was the local elder, too.

Bess came out of her reveries with a start. Strange how one little lemonade ticket could bring back the whole cavalcade of a lifetime. Somehow those old dreams alwasy outshone all the other ambitions she had in life. She put her hand on her cheek as if to brush away a tear. Tears! She had not shed tears for a long time.

Thoughtfully she finally rose, put the little book of memories back into the trunk, and tucked in the other things she had come up two hours before to put away. Why should she fight all her life against the only thing that could make her happy? Her mind was in a whirl now, asking questions and answering them. Yes, she was only 32 years old, and her ambitions could still be realized.

She would have to write her resignation to the college, but she would not tell them the whole story. She could not have John but she could go alone. Lots of others had. Teachers in Seventh-day Adventist schools were always needed. She would ask to be taken back into her beloved home church as an active member.

Bess fairly flwe now, and in her eagerness to fnd stationery and ink she did not hear her mother come into the hall. When she turned around from the desk she saw her standing very still, with tears in her eyes.

"What's the matter, Mother, are you ill?" cried Bess as she ran to her. The reply in a voice which quivered slightly was, "Ann Hamilton passed away this morning."

Because arrangements could not be made to go abroad that school year, Bess taught in the little academy in her home city. It was on her way to school one morning early in November that she caught up with a little girl walking along with a lunch box in hand. Bess said "Good morning" and asked where she went to school. "I go to the Seventh-day Adventist church school," she replied and when queried as to her name she answered, "I'm Bessie Hamilton. Most folks think Bessie is an old-fashioned name, but my daddy said I am named after the most wonderful girl he ever knew."

More than two years have passed since Bess made her all-important decision. A combination of cirumstances over which she has had no control is still keeping her in the homeland, and teaching in the little home academy. But she and John Hamilton are making preparations to receive a call to go overseas. And when it comes they will answer it together.