A Surrendered Heart (3 page)

Unless asked, he didn’t offer advice or sermonize to the strangers who came for help. In fact, he could quickly calculate the number of times he’d preached since receiving his divinity degree. Those who found shelter at the Home were encouraged to attend a church of their choosing on Sunday mornings. Residents were sent out the front doors after breakfast and not permitted to return until after twelve-thirty on Sunday afternoon. Whether they actually attended church was between them and God. Sophie’s father, Quincy, thought the residents should be permitted to worship in their own manner. He didn’t want anyone to think they must adhere to specific religious beliefs in order to be welcomed into the Home.

Paul grinned at the thought. People flocked to theirs doors in overwhelming numbers, and he doubted any would depart if forced to attend a church service on the premises. Most would probably prefer such an arrangement. They wouldn’t be required to go outdoors in the cold or rain. But Paul didn’t argue with his father-in-law. Nor did he look for another place to serve the Lord. For now, he believed God wanted him to serve at the Home for the Friendless.

He shoved his hands into his gloves and reached for the doorknob.

“Why don’t you invite Amanda and Dr. Carstead to join us for supper this evening?” Sophie suggested. “I see my dear cousin far too seldom. And I’m certain Elizabeth misses her aunt Amanda, too.”

“I’ll do my best to convince them,” he said. “There are so many patients that need their attention, I’m not—”

“Tell Amanda that I insist. They both need to take a little time for pleasure. And so do you. I’ll expect all three of you no later than six o’clock.”

“You’re right. An evening of visiting and good food is just what the doctor ordered. Even if the doctor doesn’t know it.”

The sound of Sophie’s laughter followed him down the front steps. As a harsh wind assailed him from the north, he tucked his head low. Paul believed the walk to work each morning helped him maintain his good health. However, he would have gladly exchanged his morning exercise for a ride in a warm carriage on this brisk morning.

Though a cutting chill remained, the wind subsided as he rounded the final corner. He squinted against the sun. Not one soul stood waiting for admission to the Home. Ever since the first frightening case of cholera had been detected, the medical office had been swarmed with daily visitors. And after the recent newspaper headlines, he’d expected an even larger crowd. He strode forward but stopped short at the front gate.

Quarantine!
He didn’t take time to read the fine print. The one word was enough to explain the absence of the usual morning arrivals.

Paul cupped his hands to his mouth. “Quincy! It’s Paul. Can you hear me? Come to the door.” He waited a moment and then tried again.

With the windows tightly closed and shuttered against the cold, his voice would never be heard. He glanced at the iron bell used to announce that meals were being served. Without a moment’s hesitation, he entered the gate, pulled the worn rope, and waited. The shutters that covered one of the windows in the front of the house opened. Blake! So the doctor had been captured in the quarantine, too.

Paul pointed to the front of the building. “Open the door.”

Blake momentarily disappeared before the door opened and he stepped onto the porch. “Didn’t you read the notice? You can’t come in here, Paul.”

“I understand,” he said, careful to keep some distance between them. “But what can I do to help?”

Blake rubbed his hands together. “We’ll need our food replenished in a couple days. And could you gather medical supplies? Ask John Phillips. He’ll help you choose what I need.”

Paul had become acquainted with John Phillips when he’d first arrived in Rochester. The man operated a pharmacy nearby. “Anything else?”

Blake stepped down from the porch and drew closer. “Tell Mr. and Mrs. Broadmoor that Amanda has contracted cholera. I’m doing my best for her. She’s young and strong, but I can’t say with certainty that she’ll make it. She’s very sick.”

Paul grasped the fence and steadied himself. The news would devastate Sophie. And what of Mr. and Mrs. Broadmoor? Amanda’s parents would surely blame themselves for permitting her to work at the Home. The thought of delivering this dreadful report left him speechless.

“Paul! Did you hear me?” Blake shouted.

“Yes, yes. I’ll tell them. Do you think . . . I mean . . . should I . . . ?”

“Just tell them exactly what I’ve said. There’s no way of knowing what will happen. If they want to speak to me, tell them to do as you have. Ring the bell and I’ll come out.”

Paul nodded and turned, too dazed to ask any further questions.

“Don’t forget the medicine and food,” Blake hollered.

Paul waved in recognition of the request. He couldn’t find his voice. The possibility had always existed that one of them would contract some fatal disease from one of the patients, but Paul had always believed God’s hand of protection was upon them. They were, after all, doing God’s work. He rounded the corner and forced such thoughts from his mind. He’d speak to Sophie first. It would be best if she accompanied him to meet with Amanda’s parents. Sophie knew them better than he. Perhaps she could lend some advice on how to best approach them. For the second time this day, he wished he hadn’t walked to work.

3

Sophie tied the ribbons of Elizabeth’s bonnet beneath the sleeping child’s tiny chin while her husband paced in the hallway. Amanda had stitched the bonnet during one of the three cousins’ many sewing sessions before Elizabeth’s birth. Sophie pictured the three of them—Fanny, Amanda, and herself—sitting in the bedroom at Broadmoor Castle with their sewing baskets and fabric. A smile played at her lips as she remembered her cousins’ efforts to help improve her sewing skills. They’d been mostly unsuccessful, and Sophie had accepted the fact that she’d never be an accomplished seamstress—not like Amanda. She traced her finger along the embroidered stems of bluebells with pale green stems and veined leaves that adorned the cap.

The love she held for her cousins was deeper than that which she held for her own siblings. Throughout the years Amanda and Fanny had been her closest friends and confidants. Many had been the occasion when her own sisters had turned away from her in frustration or disgust, but not Amanda and Fanny. They might not always approve of the things she did, but they would never dream of deserting her.

“How can I help?” Paul asked as he continued to pace.

“I’ll be just a moment longer. Is the carriage out front?”

“Yes. We really must be on our way.”

Sophie turned and frowned at her husband. “I’m doing my best.” She lifted Elizabeth from her cradle, careful to keep the blanket tightly tucked around the child. Some said the damp air could cause cholera, and she didn’t intend to take her outdoors unless properly protected against the elements. “I want to make certain the baby is warm enough.”

“Yes, of course,” he replied, shifting his gaze toward the floor.

Her words carried a hint of censure, and Paul had taken note. Sophie immediately regretted her behavior. Paul was worried and needed her support instead of a reprimand. But she was worried, too—about all of them. What if Paul or Elizabeth should fall ill? She couldn’t bear the thought of losing either of them.

“I’m sorry for speaking harshly,” she said.

Paul smiled and took the baby into his arms. “You’re forgiven. We’re both worried.” He brushed her cheek with a kiss and opened the door.

The carriage ride to her aunt and uncle’s home seemed longer than usual, and Sophie fidgeted throughout the ride. Surprisingly, her movement had little effect upon Elizabeth, who continued to sleep. A short time later Paul brought the carriage to a halt in front of her uncle’s home, and Elizabeth’s eyes popped open. She wriggled in Sophie’s arms and whimpered.

“I know. You like riding, but we must stop for a while,” she cooed to the baby.

The butler answered the door and, with a nod, bid them enter. He attempted to remain proper, but Sophie noticed his little smile at Elizabeth.

“Are my aunt and uncle at home, Marvin?”

The butler nodded. “I’ll inform them that Mr. and Mrs. Medford and baby Elizabeth have come to call.”

“Thank you, Marvin.” The man was a saint. No wonder her uncle paid him well. “Marvin is the one who helped Amanda, Fanny, and me set up a bucket of whitewash over the kitchen door.”

Paul grinned. “I recall your telling me about that incident. I believe it was your uncle Jonas who ended up covered in whitewash rather than Amanda’s brothers, Jefferson and George.”

Sophie smiled, remembering the sight of her uncle doused in the white concoction. She didn’t know who had been more surprised, but she did recall that her uncle’s jacket and spectacles had both required a good deal of Marvin’s fastidious attention. The entire incident had delighted Jefferson and George, who had promised they’d be on the lookout for any further antics from the three girls.

How the years had changed their circumstances. Sophie missed the times when they would gather at Amanda’s or at their grandparents’ home to spend the night together. They would giggle and talk late into the night about all their hopes and dreams. Funny how life had taken so many unexpected turns. This was not anything like the dream Sophie once had for herself. Amanda and Fanny had always advised her to marry a wealthy man—for only a man of great resources could keep Sophie in the style she craved. Paul was anything but financially well off.

Elizabeth wriggled in her arms and burst forth with a lusty cry as Marvin returned to the foyer. “Seems your little girl doesn’t enjoy waiting. Must take after her mother,” he said with a grin. “Your aunt and uncle will see you in the library.” He leaned a bit closer. “They were preparing to depart on some business.”

“So they’re not particularly happy that we’ve arrived,”

Sophie replied while Elizabeth continued to cry.

“I believe that would be correct.”

Sophie lifted the baby to her shoulder and hoped she could quiet the child while they delivered the news. She glanced at Paul when they arrived at the library door. “I can’t seem to quiet her. Perhaps you should go in and deliver the news while I wait out here with the baby.”

“No.” He shook his head and clasped her elbow. “They’ll receive this better if you’re along.”

Sophie arched her brows. She didn’t think her presence would soften the blow, but she didn’t argue. Elizabeth released a high-pitched wail as they crossed the threshold and entered the library. Her uncle furrowed his brow and scowled in their direction.

“She has just now awakened from her nap and is a bit fussy,” Sophie explained.

“Well, do something to pacify her.” Jonas pulled on his earlobe. “I can’t tolerate that squealing. It’s enough to shatter a mirror.”

Sophie edged closer to Paul. “I think I should take Elizabeth to the other room.”

“We won’t take but a few minutes of your time, sir.” Paul grasped Sophie’s sleeve when she attempted to move toward the door. “Sophie and I have the task of bringing you a piece of disheartening news.”

Before he could say anything more, the baby screeched, and Jonas jumped up from his chair. “Do
something
to make that child happy, Sophie. You are her mother—I would think you’d know how to stop that incessant crying.”

“I’m trying,” she apologized, swaying back and forth and patting the baby’s back.

“Jonas! The baby is likely suffering from colic. Your angry temperament is not going to do a jot of good. You’ve likely frightened the child even further.” Victoria extended her arms. “Let me try, Sophie.”

Sophie willingly handed over the baby, though she doubted her aunt would have success. Elizabeth was like the little girl in Longfellow’s poem: When she was good, she was very good indeed, but when she was bad, she was horrid. Though Elizabeth lacked the curl in the middle of her forehead, Sophie thought that, too, would appear over time.

Jonas massaged his forehead. “The three of you continue your visit. I have matters that require my attention.”

Before her uncle could reach the door, Paul stepped in front of him. “You can’t leave, sir.”

Jonas straightened his shoulders and extended his chest forward. “What do you mean, I can’t leave? How
dare
you tell me what I can or can’t do in my own home! Step out of the way before I am forced to have you removed, young man.”

Paul directed a beseeching look at Sophie.

Stepping to her husband’s side, Sophie said, “Listen to him, Uncle Jonas. This is very important, or we wouldn’t have come here.”

The baby silenced her wailing, and the room became eerily quiet. Sophie sat down beside her aunt and peeked at Elizabeth. Perhaps she should take the child before Paul announced Amanda’s illness. Her aunt could faint and drop the baby. “Let me take her, Aunt Victoria.”

Jonas turned on his heel. “Don’t touch that child. She’ll likely begin to squall if you move her.” He shifted around toward Paul. “Now, what is it that’s so important?”

“The Home for the Friendless has been placed under quarantine, and—”

“Is that what this is about? We already know that. In fact, if the two of you hadn’t interrupted us with your unexpected visit, we’d be on our way over there now. I plan to have Amanda sneak out the rear door and come home immediately.”

“You can’t do that, sir,” Paul said.

“Don’t preach to me about what I can and can’t do. I’m not going to have my daughter remain in that place with all of those dirty homeless people. They’re probably all carriers of the disease. I’m going to bring her home. This doctor nonsense has gone far enough. Amanda is going to remain at home and conduct herself in a proper manner until I find a suitable husband for her.”

Sophie shook her head, and her uncle glared at her. “You can’t bring Amanda home because she has already contracted cholera, Uncle Jonas. That’s what Paul has been trying to tell you.” Her aunt’s gasp was enough to alert Sophie, and she promptly lifted Elizabeth from the older woman’s arms. “Don’t fret, Aunt Victoria. Blake will do everything possible for Amanda. She’ll have constant care. He won’t let her . . .” She couldn’t utter the word.

“Die?” Jonas snorted. “Dr. Carstead can’t control life and death. Not where cholera is concerned.”

“But God can,” Paul said. “We must be in constant prayer for Amanda and ask God to remove this plague from our city.”

“Why pray? If God has already determined to let my daughter die, your prayers won’t change a thing.”

The harsh words were meant as a rebuke, but Paul grasped her uncle’s shoulder. “You’re wrong, Mr. Broadmoor. Prayer doesn’t always yield the answer we desire, but God
does
hearken to our prayers. Consider Abraham and his pleas to save Sodom. If we expect God to help, we must communicate the desires of our heart.”

When her aunt slumped sideways and fell against Sophie’s arm, Sophie placed Elizabeth on the settee. With her free hand she motioned to her husband. “Please ask Marvin to bring a damp cloth.”

Jonas tapped his wife’s shoulder. “If we’re going to go and fetch Amanda, you’ll need to muster your strength. This is no time for the faint of heart.”

Sophie thought Uncle Jonas an insensitive boor, but his words had the desired effect. Before Marvin arrived with a damp cloth, her aunt’s color had returned, and under her own strength she’d managed to return to an upright position.

“You’re correct, Jonas. I’ll get my hat. We must be on our way.”

“She can’t be released to your care,” Paul insisted. “From what Blake tells me, her condition is grave. Even if permitted, any attempt to move her would prove disastrous. Look at the weather. Would you bring her out in this damp air?”

Victoria stood and steadied herself for a moment before she crossed the room. Pushing aside the curtain, she peered out the window and then turned to her husband. “Paul is correct, Jonas. We can’t risk the possibility.” Victoria withdrew a handkerchief from her pocket and blotted her eyes. “My dear Amanda. This is my fault. I encouraged her to seek a life of fulfillment.”

“Don’t blame yourself, Aunt Victoria. Amanda was determined to pursue a medical career. Even if she had remained at home, she might have contracted the disease.”

“I doubt that.
We’re
all perfectly fine.”

“ ’Tis true, Aunt Victoria. I’m told Mr. and Mrs. Warford’s daughter Jane is one of the recent victims.”

Victoria clasped a hand to her throat. “Jane? Oh, her dear mother and father must be distraught. When did you hear this news?”

“Only late last evening. You see, it makes little difference that you granted Amanda permission to work at the Home for the Friendless.”

“The Home? I understand it’s been placed under quarantine,” Fanny said, bursting into the library. She glanced at Paul.

“I’m relieved to see that you’re not one of those required to remain there. I assume Uncle Quincy has been restricted.” She turned to her aunt. “What of Amanda? Where is she?”

Sophie motioned to her cousin. “Come sit down beside me, Fanny.” In hushed tones, Sophie related the news of their cousin’s illness.

“We must go to her,” Fanny said.

“We’ve already had this discussion. No one is going to go there,” Paul said. “Prayer is the answer.”

An hour later Fanny and Sophie were the only ones who remained in the library. Paul had helped Jonas get Victoria to bed, hoping a brief nap would help her better cope with the situation, and then had taken Elizabeth for a walk around the house so that Sophie and Fanny might converse in private.

“Do you suppose Amanda is very ill?” Fanny asked.

Sophie shrugged. “She’s been exposed to the disease over and over by those she sought to help. I fear she’s gravely ill.”

“I can’t bear it. The very thought of . . . of losing her is more than I can endure. It’s bad enough when you expect the death of an older person. I still miss our grandparents terribly.”

“I miss my mother,” Sophie whispered. “Especially now that I have Elizabeth.”

Fanny took hold of her hand. “Of course you do.”

“My sisters have never been as dear to me as you and Amanda,” Sophie continued, tears in her eyes. “I wish we could be at her side to nurse her.” She squeezed Fanny’s hand. “I’d just feel better to be near and see for myself that everything possible was being done.”

“Or to tell her how much we love her.”

Sophie met Fanny’s damp eyes. “You do suppose she knows, don’t you? I mean, we’ve often said as much to each other. Haven’t we?”