Rumors and Promises (10 page)

“No.” Ian wondered at Sophie’s fainting spell. His heart had sped up as she fell into his arms and continued a drumbeat as he went to get her water. She’d acted comfortable at his house a week ago, but her eyes had widened and an almost imperceptible shake coursed through her as though she had seen a ghost before she’d blacked out. Her fingers had clung to the front of her shawl as though they were frozen there. A cold sweat of fear had swept over Ian.

“Uncle Ian!” Philip bounded down the center aisle behind him when Ian returned. “I’ve found the broom. Where would you like me to sweep first?”

He turned to the energetic boy for a moment. “Be a gentleman. Miss Biddle isn’t feeling well.”

“Yes, sir. Is she going to be all right?” Philip stood close behind him, waiting for further direction.

Sophie took in a breath and let it out. All at once, she seemed more relaxed. Could she be so nervous about performing? She’d played like a professional the other night. Why would the presence of a child ease her fears? Perhaps she was only cold from being outside.

Her long slender fingers curved around the glass he handed her and brushed his hand. How chilly! “Would you like to warm up by the stove before you practice? Maggie will be bringing a pot of tea.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you both. Will Maggie stay for awhile?”

Warmth thawed into the once terrified look in her amber eyes. He somehow felt relief as he took in her gaze. The tenderness he discerned there both captivated and alarmed him. He cleared his throat and glanced away.

“I’m sure she would enjoy hearing you play again so soon.” Ian rubbed his idle hands together to generate heat as the cold sweat abated.

He turned to his young nephew. “Philip, start at the front and work your way to the back. There’s usually more dirt in the vestibule. And then you can sweep it right out the door.”

“Yes, sir.” The boy nodded.

“But sweep as quietly as possible when Miss Biddle plays.”

Philip nodded again and chuckled. “I’ll try.”

Ian held Sophie’s elbow and helped her up before leading her toward the front of the church. They sat near the stove in the corner, and Sophie held out her reddened hands. Ian had felt their roughness just a few minutes before. How hard she must work helping Esther and washing laundry. It seemed unfair that those hands that made beautiful music had to take such abuse from lye soap.

She gave him that crooked smile, but an uneasy quiet hung between them. Only the swish of Philip’s broom across the floor interrupted the silence.

Funny, as they walked up the aisle together, Ian realized that he’d never done this with a woman at his side before. Maggie certainly didn’t count. He’d stood apart as he’d watched many a bride come forward and join her groom’s side for Ian to perform
their marriage ceremony.
Why on earth was he thinking this way?
He shook himself from his odd reverie. They needed to get to work.

“Warmed up a bit?” he asked.

“I think so.” Sophie sighed and pushed a wayward curl back from her pretty face. “It’s probably time for me to familiarize myself with the church piano and the hymns you’ve chosen.”

“Let me take your shawl.” Ian reached to take it from her.

Sophie pulled the seat away from the instrument. With grace, she sat up straight and arranged the folds of her patched gray skirt like an aristocratic lady. He saw class in her, yet not a bit of haughtiness or arrogance.

“It’s not a Bidershem, but it’s decent.” He probably sounded more apologetic than he needed.

Her cheeks tinged with pink, and she looked as though she was concentrating on the hymnal in her hands, frowning for a moment. “I’m sure it’s a fine piano.”

When Ian handed Sophie a list of hymns, her fingers brushed his. She pulled her hand back rather quickly. It was all he could do to not hold the roughened appendage in his own, transferring a message that he wanted to protect her from whatever fear held her captive.

Why did this accidental touch catch him off guard? Somehow, when he grasped her hand between both of his own a few minutes earlier, his concentration was spent on making her feel comfortable. Yet now, Ian could barely focus on the list in front of him.

“Do you mind if I play a few familiar pieces first?”

“Take your time. I’ll be right here in the building if you have any questions. I need to give my nephew a bit of direction.”

Ian turned and walked toward Philip. Her masterful use of the chords in each hymn filled his ears. His heart swelled with worship.

“Let’s find a bucket and clean these windows to a shine.” He loved the colorful stained glass, especially when the sun shone
through in all its glory. When spring arrived, they would be ready to receive back the winter shut-ins.

After they pumped water into the bucket and he found a piece of chamois in the closet, they returned to the sanctuary. Ian had to stop for a moment, inhaling sharply at a beautiful sight. A rare bit of winter sun poured through the window behind Sophie and bathed her in a brilliant glow, transforming her from a helpless girl to an ethereal angel. Why hadn’t he noticed this before? Or maybe he had but wasn’t willing to admit it to himself. She wasn’t just a second chance to do justice to someone like Annie but someone he wanted to watch over.

Ian couldn’t pull his gaze from her freckled face, framed by chestnut curls. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders. A small cleft in her chin sat below the full pink lips that she pushed together as she seemed absorbed by her task. Her hands moved with such gracefulness upon the keyboard.

The yearning in his heart had grown beyond compassion. He blinked and swallowed. Why, this had to be the desire to protect her—that was all—and an appreciation for the beauty that God had created in her. Wasn’t it? He had to get control of such feelings. He knew so little about her, and his duty was to care for her soul, first and foremost, to earn the right to shepherd her.

The question was how best to help her and the child. One moment, she projected an independent spirit. Yet, when she’d fainted in his arms, he’d observed a vulnerable young woman. Independence he could deal with by helping her find ways to supplement the pittance she earned from Esther, but beauty and vulnerability were dangerous territories. Ian had a calling to fulfill before he got entangled in any woman’s life, or more likely, his heart became ensnared by hers.

She stopped playing and looked up. Their gazes locked. “I’ll start on your list now, Reverend.”

When Sophie caught Ian’s expression, she saw an intensity that hadn’t been there before. Her heart palpitated as she became lost in the pools of his aqua eyes. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he cleared his throat.

“Of course.” He dropped the chamois into the bucket. “I thought that we would start with a Fanny Crosby hymn, “Rescue the Perishing.” Ian raked his hand through his wavy, black hair.

Sophie searched the pages of the worn music book. “Ah, here it is.” She perused the words as she began playing. “One of my favorites.” She couldn’t keep from forming a slight smile.

“
Rescue the perishing, care for the dying, snatch them in pity from sin and the grave …”

Were they only dying souls the hymn spoke of? Or perishing hearts, as well? The pain twisted deep inside her—the hurt of betrayal and sting of rejection. Weren’t these things murdering her slowly? Was there hope for healing? God still seemed so far away.

However, the music was a balm to her, purging her sadness. Sophie’s cheeks felt wet. When she finished the song, she found Ian pressing a clean handkerchief into her hand.

“That was truly moving. I can see you feel the message of the lyrics, Sophie, assuming there’s nothing else troubling you.”

His closeness and the warmth of his touch had made her want to stay right there at the piano in the sanctuary, to play for him the whole afternoon. What was wrong with her? Her emotions were like a sailboat bobbing on the Detroit River during a storm.

“Well, I think I understand how it feels to be perishing, in a way.”
How can I let him see me cry like this again?
“It doesn’t seem to take much to move me to tears these days.” She tried to deny the comfort his closeness brought. She smoothed her skirt and sat up straighter. Perhaps if she appeared more poised and matter-of-fact, they could get back to the business of making music for the next Sunday service.

“What’s the next piece on the list?” She spoke more abruptly than she intended. “I can’t be interrupted continually when I’m practicing.” The way he said just the right thing in such a perfectly soothing way annoyed her. She could get through this by herself, even if God felt far away. Sophie didn’t need a patronizing pastor always rescuing her, but for the time being she needed the job he offered.

Ian nodded. “I’ll leave you to your work then.” The tension in his voice told her that even ministers could be hurt by sharp words.

The door flew open. “Here we are! Hot tea and cookies for a hardworking musician!” Maggie carried a tray and bared a glowing smile as she looked from Sophie to Ian.

Did she notice the hint of a knowing gleam in Maggie’s eyes? She was being sensitive, of course, probably her imagination.

“What about me?” Philip piped up.

“And I suppose for custodians, too.” She winked at her son.

She set the tray on a front row pew.

“Thank you, Maggie.” Sophie took a deep breath filled with relief.

“You’re welcome. Are you sure Esther is feeding you enough? You’re positively too thin. Or is rationing a part of the conditions of working for her?”

Sophie chuckled. “Oh no, there’s enough to eat for all of us.” She thought of the plump widow who employed her. “I’m just so busy that I forget to stop and eat sometimes.”

“Well, I don’t think she ate enough this morning, Maggie. She positively fainted away at the thought of performing in the church.”

“You don’t say?”

How aggravating that the brother and sister spoke to each other as though she wasn’t even there!

Maggie grabbed her hand. “Then let me get some bread and cheese for you, too!”

But Sophie was feeling much better with another adult present. “No, thank you, these cookies will do the trick, I’m sure. I really am quite well now.”

After she nibbled on Maggie’s spicy snicker doodles, and the strong, black tea warmed her suddenly parched throat, she returned to practicing each hymn a few times.

Maggie listened while sitting nearby and knitting. She occasionally tapped her foot in time to the hymn or hummed a bit.

As Sophie put the music away and wrapped up in her shawl, Ian spoke to her. “I don’t think it will be a problem, but you will be on a sort of probation this Sunday.”

She nodded. “I think I understand.”

Ian’s face broke into a wide grin. “I’m sure once the board hears you play, they will approve.”

Maggie sat with her arms crossed. “I agree that the board will support you, but not everyone in the church is so kind.”

“We don’t have to talk about this now.” Ian’s mouth set in a grim line as he stared at his sister.

“Hopefully all will go well.” Squaring her shoulders and pushing her mouth to form a smile, Sophie looked from Maggie to Ian. She didn’t feel so confident on the inside, but she wasn’t going to let the reverend know that. He shouldn’t be looking at her as some helpless child.

“I’m sure that’s true, dear.” Maggie came over to hug her.

Ian looked worried as she prepared to leave. “You need gloves to protect those talented hands.”

“I’m knitting mittens with some yarn that Mrs. Fairgrave gave me. I’ll be fine until then.” Sophie jutted her chin forward and waved his concern away.

“But it’s so cold out.” Ian sighed. “I suppose I’m stating the obvious.” Looking bewildered, he thrust his hands into his pockets.

“Here, take mine for now.” Maggie held out a lovely pair of dove gray leather gloves, finer than any she had seen in a long time. The
last decent pair she’d owned, she’d pawned in Greenville, just to buy food.

“No, no, I couldn’t take them.” Sophie shook her head at the offer. “I have pockets in my skirt, anyway.”

“Please, at least until you have mittens ready. I have another pair at home.” Maggie grabbed Sophie’s hands, pressing the fine gloves into them. “I will worry about you getting frostbite. Goodness, where has my head been? I should have noticed you needed gloves when you were at the house the other day!” Her cheeks flushed a bit.