Love Finds a Home (Love Comes Softly Series #8) (11 page)

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She hated good-byes. The tears, the hugs, the promises. She wished there was an easier way to take one's leave. But it was the doubts that made this good-bye most difficult. Belinda had so many doubts--so many questions. She wondered for the hundredth time if she was doing the right thing. When would she be home again? What would bring her back? Some tragedy? She prayed not. But who could tell? Her mother and father were getting older. Belinda had seen firsthand the aging of Ma Graham. In a few years' time her ma and pa could age like that, she knew.

Belinda shivered at the thought.

"You need a heavier coat," Marty said again.

"I have one in Boston, Mama, and I won't need one until I get there. Really. The train will be nice and warm."

Marty held Belinda close as though to protect her from the chill of the wind and the pain of the world.

"Write," she whispered. "I 'most live fer yer letters." "I will," promised Belinda.

"An' don't worry. . .'bout home. We're fine," continued Marty

Belinda wondered just how much her mother knew about the feelings that churned through her insides.

Clark held her then. She felt his arms tighten about her, and for a fleeting moment she was tempted to change her plans. But she knew she had to return to Boston. She kissed her mother one last time and then, amid shouts of "good-bye," she climbed the train steps and selected a seat just as the big engine began to move the cars down the tracks.

Belinda leaned from the window and waved one last time. The train was taking her back to Boston.
Back to where I belong,
thought Belinda.

But her mind hurried on.

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If that is so,
she asked herself,
why do I feel so empty inside? Why are my cheeks wet with tears? Why do I feel as if I've just been torn away from everything that is solid?

Belinda didn't have the answers.

90

TEN

Back to Normal?

Belinda had arranged her return so she would be back at Marshall Manor the day before Mrs. Stafford-Smyth was due home. This would give her a chance to be settled in and able to give full attention to the older woman upon her arrival.

Dependable Windsor met Belinda at the station, just as she had known he would. Belinda thought he seemed almost glad to see her, though she was sure he wouldn't have thought it proper to admit as much. Belinda smiled to herself as she settled in among the robes he had brought. The cold wind was blowing in Boston, also, and in true Windsor tradition, he no doubt had noticed the light coat Belinda had worn as she left.

The house looked the same--big, beautiful, and inviting. Belinda tried not to compare it with the little farm home she had just left, but it was difficult not to do so. She was looking forward to having indoor plumbing once again. It would be so nice to soak leisurely in a tub filled with warm water from a faucet. Belinda felt as if she had scarcely had a proper bath since she had left Boston. Taking a bath in a galvanized tub just wasn't the same.

Even the usually distant Potter seemed pleased to see her and bustled about asking how she could be of service and what would Miss like for her dinner. Belinda could scarcely believe her eyes and ears.

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Windsor insisted on carrying her suitcase and hatbox up the stairs, and Belinda followed close behind, eager to see if her room was really as pretty as she remembered it.

She sighed deeply as she looked about her. Everything was just as she had pictured it. She motioned to Windsor to set her suitcase by the bureau and excused him with a simple "Thank you."

She was looking forward to a nice, sudsy soak. Even as she thought about it, she could hear water running and crossed the room to find Ella already in the bathroom.

"I thought you might like a nice bath, miss," Ella explained, and Belinda gratefully assured her that she would.

"You just hop right in, miss," Ella said on her way out of the bathroom, "and I'll unpack for you. What do you wish me to lay out for dinner, miss?"

Have I truly lived like this?
Belinda asked herself. And then,
Yes. I'd quite forgotten. Before I left I'd gotten used to being treated like a . . . a pampered lady of leisure.

"Something simple," she smiled at the maid, "seeing as I will be dining alone. I really am very tired and feel the need for my bed far more than the need for food."

"Of course, miss," answered Ella.

"You pick something," Belinda called over her shoulder as she headed for the tubful of warm water.

It was delightful to lower herself into the warmth and the suds and let the water soak away the fatigue from her back and shoulders. Belinda would have lingered longer had not Ella called to her.

"I've finished the unpacking, miss, and laid out your gown. Cook said she will serve in half an hour. Do you wish me to do your hair?"

Belinda considered the offer. It would feel good to have Ella do her hair again. It seemed so long since she'd had it done

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properly. But she was weary--and she had little time. She called back, "No thank you. I'll need to hurry. I'll just pin it up myself for tonight."

"Very well, miss," said Ella, and Belinda heard the door close.

She climbed from the tub and dried on the large, fluffy towel, noticing how soft and white it was.

Perhaps it has been good for me to be away,
she told herself. I
take more notice of things that I've been taking for granted.

Belinda hurried, remembering that Potter did not suffer tardiness with pleasure.

She was almost breathless as she entered the dining room. It seemed so strange to sit down to a table all by herself. Especially when she had just come from a family where several plates usually crowded the table.

But for all the material differences, homesickness tugged at Belinda's heart as she seated herself and bowed her head to say grace while Windsor stood by waiting to serve her.

The dinner looked delicious, and Belinda might have enjoyed it more had she been less tired--and less lonely Out of habit she forked the food to her mouth but hardly tasted a thing. After she had done some justice to what had been prepared, she excused herself and announced that she was retiring for the night.

With no early-rising roosters or bellowing cows to awaken her, Belinda slept late the next morning. When she finally did open her eyes and study her clock, she was shocked to see that it was quarter of ten. She threw back her covers and rang for Ella.

Ella responded immediately, and Belinda stopped brushing her hair long enough to say, "Run my bath, would you, please,

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Ella? I've overslept. Mrs. Stafford-Smyth is due in at twelve- thirty."

Ella nodded. "Windsor has been fretting," she acknowledged.

"Why didn't someone awaken me?"

"We all knew you were tired, miss. Potter said to let you be."

"Potter?" Belinda's eyebrows went up and then she smiled. There had been a time when Potter would have taken delight in seeing her summoned from her bed.

"Cook said to let her know when you were ready for breakfast," declared Ella, coming in the door.

"No breakfast today--I don't have time," Belinda told her. "Tell Cook I'm really not that hungry."

Ella looked troubled. "She'll insist on some fresh juice at least, miss," Ella dared forecast.

"Some juice, then. Up here. And perhaps a scone. That's

all."

Ella left and Belinda hurried to get ready.

At the time previously set by Windsor, Belinda was in the front hall, her hat on straight, her warm coat buttoned properly She was ready to meet the train.

Belinda felt a surge of excitement as the wheels of the carriage bumped along the cobblestone road. It seemed a very long time since she had seen Mrs. Stafford-Smyth. She was looking forward to sharing the news from her hometown.
Well, at least some of the news,
Belinda thought. She knew she wouldn't share with the older woman all of the thoughts and feelings she'd had while away.

In fact, the more Belinda thought about it, the more she wondered just what she would be able to share. Her trip home had been so . . . so personal . . . even troubling. Maybe she wouldn't dare discuss much of it at all.

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But she would ask Mrs. Stafford-Smyth to tell her all about her holiday in New York. There certainly would be plenty for them to talk about. She'd hear all about the plays, the concerts, the dress shops. They would talk about all the things Mrs. Stafford-Smyth had experienced--but they would not discuss the conflicting emotions Belinda had battled, she decided.

The train arrived on time, and Belinda held her coat securely about her and scanned the crowd for Mrs. StaffordSmyth. Windsor spotted her first. "There's M'lady!" he exclaimed, and even the proper Windsor could not keep an excited tremor from his voice.

Belinda saw her then and ran to meet her.

"Oh, my deah, my deah!" cried the older woman, "how I have missed you."

There were tears in Mrs. Stafford-Smyth's eyes as she held the girl. If Belinda had doubted the reason why she was back in Boston, she understood and accepted it thoroughly now.
She needs me.
She really had no one else. A houseful of servants was not family, even though Mrs. Stafford-Smyth cared for each of them.

Windsor ushered the two of them into the carriage, declaring that he would return later for the luggage.

"And how was
your
trip, deah?" asked the older woman. "Fine," replied Belinda. "I was able to see everyone--well, everyone who still lives at home."

"That's nice," smiled the lady. But in spite of the smile, Belinda noted with some concern the tiredness in Mrs. Stafford-Smyth's face.

"Have you not been feeling well?" Belinda asked.

Mrs. Stafford-Smyth waved the question aside. "I've been fine," she maintained, "just fine."

Belinda did not press her further. "And how was your trip?"

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she said instead. "I am so anxious to hear all about it. It must have been terribly exciting."

The older woman looked at her evenly. "Well, I must say, not really," she replied at last.

Belinda was surprised.
Maybe Mrs. Stafford-Smyth's trip has not gone well.
"You aren't telling me something," Belinda said softly. "What is it? Were you sick while you were away?"

Mrs. Stafford-Smyth shook her head, and then tears began to gather and then to run down her face, splashing unheeded into her fur collar. "It's just . . . just . . ." she sniffed and searched for a handkerchief in her pocketbook, "that I couldn't think of anything else but you, deah. I kept thinking you wouldn't come back once you got home again. I lived every day in feah and didn't feel like doing anything. Celia neahly tossed me out she was so annoyed with me, but I . . . I just couldn't help it."

Belinda reached out to take her employer's hand, passing along her handkerchief. "That's all right," she comforted. "I'm here. I came back just as I said I would."

"I'm so glad. So glad," breathed the older woman. "Now things can get back to normal again."

Normal?
thought Belinda. She had just moved back and forth between two very different worlds.
What,
she wondered,
is normal?

But things did fall back into a daily routine. The two women picked up where they had left off, sharing their meals, their handwork, their reading, their lives. Little by little they spoke about some of the experiences of their time apart, too. It seemed that the one had been as miserable as the other--but for quite different reasons.

The windy fall days turned to winter chill, and snow began to pile up on Thomas's flower beds. This time there was no discussion of a trip abroad to avoid the winter. They knew

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without saying it that they both had consented to suffer it through. Belinda realized she was already looking forward to spring even as she saw the winds tuck the flowers away under their snowy blankets for the winter.

Belinda kept her promise to her mother. Each week she wrote a lengthy letter home and looked forward to the reply that was sure to come. She shared the letters with Mrs. Stafford-Smyth, who seemed to enjoy them almost as much as Belinda did.

When Christmas came, they celebrated with strangers again. In its own way, it was a joyous time. Mrs. Stafford-Smyth had enjoyed planning the holiday event and having the festive table surrounded by dinner guests. Their guests, too, appreciated the time spent in the lovely big house with the kind woman and her staff.

But for Belinda the most special moments occurred each day as the two of them spent time together studying the Bible. Since her trip to New York, Mrs. Stafford-Smyth seemed much more aware and sensitive to spiritual things. Belinda wondered if something particular had happened there.

But her employer never said anything about such an event. Belinda held her tongue but continued to wonder--and to pray.