Love Finds a Home (Love Comes Softly Series #8) (23 page)

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"I've been thinking," she said. "It would be nice to have a spiritual counselor--a chaplain--for the home."

The attorney looked over his glasses. "A chaplain?" he said.

"Yes," Belinda said, feeling somewhat on the defensive. "To lead the daily devotional times and Sunday services should the residents be unable to go out."

"Have the residents requested a chaplain?"

"Perhaps they are not quite so . . . so religious as you seem to be," stated the attorney frankly.

"But they haven't requested
anything,"
defended Belinda. "They haven't moved into the manor demanding this or that. But we do need to care for their needs--physical and spiritual."

"I see," said the lawyer, but Belinda wondered if he really did. Perhaps the attorney was not the one she should be speaking to concerning a chaplain for the manor, she decided.
Very well,
she silently conceded.
I'll talk to God about the chaplain.
To Mr. Keats she said, "We do need a physician. We are dealing with the elderly, and it is common for one ailment or another to need immediate care."

The man nodded. "Do you mean a resident physician?" he asked her.

"Oh no, no. But one should be on call. And should drop by regularly"

"I think we can arrange that with no problem. I will look into it right away."

Belinda smiled her thanks.

"But perhaps it would be wise to have a nurse actually in residence," the attorney went on. "She could care for small problems and call the doctor as needed."

Belinda thought it did sound reasonable.

"I understand that you are--were a nurse," the man said hesitantly. "But, of course, with your position changed so

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dramatically, I'm sure you wouldn't be interested in such a position. However, it should help you in securing a qualified person."

Belinda knew the man considered her to be a wealthy woman, thanks to Mrs. Stafford-Smyth's inheritance. He still hadn't seemed to realize that she was placing it in the hands of others and would not be drawing from it.

"It's . . . it's not that," Belinda stammered. "It's just that I plan to go home."

"Oh yes," the man said with a nod of his head, but she knew he was still puzzled.

"But I'll think about the situation as you have suggested," Belinda agreed.

All the way home Belinda wrestled with her thoughts.
Is a nurse really needed? Am I needed? Is this God's way of showing me that I should . . . that I can stay on in Boston? Might there be good reason to think that . . . that Drew and I could make a life together after all?

Belinda felt her cheeks flushing. She did care deeply for Drew, she admitted to herself frankly. But she also realized he had really given her no reason to foster such hopes and dreams. He had been kind and caring and had seemed to enjoy her company, but he had never said or done anything to make Belinda think he might love her.

Belinda shoved aside her dreams and tried to still her pounding heart. It would be wrong, a great mistake, for her to change her plans based only on hopes that Drew would someday ask her to marry him, she knew. That would be a very awkward situation in which to place herself. And also an awkward situation in which to place Drew.
No,
she decided, I
will not build false dreams that might never come to be.

I must look for a nurse,
she decided resolutely, and with determination she set out to find the proper person.

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On December 10 three more residents moved into the manor. Mr. Rudgers was a tall, thin man with an untidy mustache and a twinkle in his eyes. Belinda took to him immediately. She could well imagine that his humor was going to keep things lively. His eyes fastened on Miss Mitton almost immediately, and Belinda wasn't sure if he had picked her as a likely target for his good-natured jokes or because there was something in the woman that attracted him. Belinda was sure only time would reveal his real reason.

Mr. Lewis, wizened and bent from illness or the heavy burden of life itself, had no twinkle in his eyes, only sorrow. But he asked for little, accepted all with appreciation, and contented himself with a chair in the corner. Belinda hoped that life in the manor would soon erase some of the pain from his eyes.

Mrs. Gibbons was wiry and talkative. She fluttered about here and there, asking questions. And it turned out that the answers were never confidential information. Mrs. Gibbons was very hard of hearing. "Aye?" she would question, a hand cupped to her ear. "I didn't catch thet." But it was a sure thing that everyone else in the room had "caught" it. Belinda felt that with Mrs. Gibbons to prompt and prod, everyone would be acquainted in no time at all.

Three more guests moved in the week before Christmas. The total was now five women and three men. And on December 21, a marvelous thing happened. A retired minister and his wife came to the manor. Their home had been destroyed by fire and they had no means to rebuild. Belinda sorrowed for their loss, but she felt the couple was God's answer to her prayers.

The gentle old man smiled as Belinda asked him about becoming the spiritual director for the residents.

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"God be praised, Nettie," he said, addressing his silver- haired helpmate of many years. "He has given us a home
and
a place of service--not a shelf on which to sit."

Tears traced a path down the woman's softly wrinkled cheeks. "God be praised," she echoed.

Belinda rejoiced right along with them. It was almost Christmas, and with the assigning of the elderly couple to Mrs. Stafford-Smyth's former rooms, the manor residents were all in place.

"Potter, you are in complete charge here," Belinda informed the administrator. "I don't wish to interfere--but if there is any way I can help you with your plans for our first Christmas
all
together, I would be delighted."

Potter smiled. "I'd appreciate that, miss," she acknowledged. "It has been troubling me some."

So the two of them sat down and plotted out the plans for the Christmas celebration. The menu was left in the capable hands of Cook and her staff.

With the help of Sid, Windsor set up a tree in the parlor and decorated the hall with garlands and boughs. Belinda did the shopping, choosing a simple gift for each manor resident. In future years they could exchange names at Christmas and buy small gifts from their allotted monthly funds.

The long dining room table sparkled with the good china and stemware, and the silver candlesticks held decorated candles. Belinda looked at the table, remembering Christmases past, and concluded that the day would be a special one indeed. The fact that Drew was coming made the day even more special. This at first had posed a problem for Belinda. All the staff would be having their dinner in the room off the kitchen. That would mean that Mrs. Simpson and Sid would be eating

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there.
I can hardly ask Drew to eat in the dining room while his mother sits with the staff in a back room,
Belinda sighed.

But a sudden thought made her brighten quickly. She was no longer the mistress of the manor. There was no reason why she couldn't appoint herself a spot at the staff table, as well. Feeling much better, she went about decorating the staff table. She used good linen from the linen closet, set the table up with china plates, found another set of candlesticks, and arranged small pine boughs and cones. It looked very festive, and Belinda was pleased with the results.

When Christmas Eve arrived, all was in readiness. The manor was filled with residents--only Belinda's personal rooms had not been assigned. Belinda still hoped she could turn over her rooms to a resident nurse, but in spite of her inquiries, she had not yet been able to find one.

Maybe it's foolish to even hope for such a thing,
she told herself.
I might happen upon a retired minister, but I'm sure I'll not find a retired nurse. We may need to content ourselves with doctors who are willing to make house calls.

The manor board was established, the funds available for the continued support of the home, and physicians had been found who were willing to serve the residents of the manor. Belinda smiled softly to herself. She thought of the long, long months of planning and preparation. Deep within, she felt that Mrs. Stafford-Smyth would approve of what she had done.

If only . . .
she thought.
If only I had a resident nurse, then everything would be properly in place by Christmas.

Belinda took one more glance around. Things did look nice. So homey. And it felt homey, too.

From the music room came the sound of Miss Mitton playing some Christmas carols. Occasionally the teasing voice of Mr. Rudgers reached Belinda.
He's at it again, pestering Miss Mitton with his jokes and comments,
she thought wryly. But over

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the few days they had shared the big house, things had changed. Miss Mitton now giggled in response.

From the north parlor came animated chatter, with an occasional loud "Aye?" from Mrs. Gibbons. Through the open library door Belinda saw Mrs. Bailey with two other residents discussing their respective books. The manor was alive.

I wish Aunt Virgie could see this,
Belinda thought to herself.
I think she would enjoy all the . . . the commotion.

Belinda was about to turn to the stairs when the doorbell rang. She looked about for Windsor, but since he was not nearby, Belinda went to the door herself. Foolishly, she hoped it might be Drew coming to wish her a Merry Christmas Eve. Her heart beat a bit faster as she opened the door.

A tall woman stood there, her coat wrapped tightly about her sturdy body, her hat being held in position against the winter wind.

"Oh, do come in, please," Belinda quickly invited, wondering what errand the woman had.

She moved inside, shook the snow from her clothing, and turned to Belinda.

"I am not expected," she apologized, "but if it's possible I would like to see Miss Davis."

"I'm Miss Davis," Belinda responded. "Please come in."

Belinda cast a look about her. There was really no private place to take a caller. The library and the music room were occupied, and the north parlor was more than occupied. She hesitated and then motioned toward the formal parlor. She believed that it was available . . . at the moment.

The woman just stood and looked at her. "But I was . . . I was told that Miss Davis is the mistress here."

Belinda looked down at the dusty apron that covered her simple frock. She didn't look much like the mistress of such a fine manor.

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"I'm sorry . . . I've been preparing for Christmas," she explained with a smile. "The boxes I was digging into were dusty."

She removed the apron and tossed it on the hall table. "Now . . . Miss . . . Miss. . . ?"

"Tupper," supplied the woman. "Mrs. Tupper."

"Mrs. Tupper," Belinda went on, "how may I help you? Do you have a family member staying with us?"

"Oh no," the woman quickly replied. "I've no connections here."

Belinda waited.

"But I was told that you need a nurse," the woman said. "Yes, we do," Belinda replied quickly.

"I . . . I am a nurse, miss," the woman explained. "I . . . I have all of my letters of reference right here," and she began to fumble in her handbag. "I . . . I must apologize for coming in unannounced . . . and on Christmas Eve. But, you see, it was really my only opportunity. If I don't get the job I . . . I need to take the train back home tomorrow."

"Home?" queried Belinda.

"Well . . . it's not really home. . . anymore. But we used to live in Trellis, my husband and I. He's . . . he's gone now. We had him here in the hospital in Boston, but even with the best care we could give him he. . ." She stopped herself a moment, then quickly changed the direction. "So when I heard you needed a nurse, well, I thought I'd inquire. It's foolish, I know," she admitted, tears in her eyes, "but I hate to go home . . . alone. I'd like to stay on . . . here in the city . . . to be near his . . . his resting place . . . at least for a while."

"I understand," said Belinda, her heart going out to the woman. She moved toward the hallway door.

"Please," she invited, "take off your coat and join the others in the parlor before the fire. They are just preparing for tea. It

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being Christmas Eve, Cook has prepared something special." Belinda smiled warmly and led the way toward the cozy chatter from the north parlor.

Belinda introduced Mrs. Tupper to the residents in the room and saw that she was part of the group before leaving with the references in hand. She settled herself in her room with a cup of tea and carefully read the pages. The woman was well qualified for what was needed at the manor. Belinda smiled to herself. The last detail was in place. She would welcome the widow to the household and inform her that she had the job.
We have our nurse. And just in time, too!
Tomorrow would be Christmas.

Belinda decided to put the woman in the small bedroom at the end of the hall until she herself could vacate the larger rooms. As soon as Christmas was over, she must lose no time in getting her things sorted and packed.

A new thought sobered Belinda.
There's really no need for me to stay on in Boston now. No need at all.