Rumors and Promises (14 page)

Sophie arranged the music neatly on the rack and took what she thought she needed for practice. When finished, she had strained to see Ian’s face over the heads of the church members that crowded around him. No wonder. His kindness, the gentle truthfulness of his sermon, and his cheerful ways must make him beloved by his congregation. There didn’t seem to be one crack in the surface of his character. Stone Creek was a small town, but this church seemed to thrive.

Her palms had gone a bit sweaty at the realization of the size of her audience when the service began. How silly of her. It hadn’t been the first time she played for this many people. The pews were comfortably full. She had performed for much larger audiences before, but it had been awhile. Somehow, she had never pictured herself playing in this venue again.

Quite frankly, Sophie wasn’t sure she deserved to be there. But for the sake of Caira, she would take chances. She needed the money, but was it right to take it from a church, when she knew her ruse wasn’t pleasing to the God worshipped there? Would that He would have mercy on her for her daughter’s sake!

Caira toddled after Philip and Maggie. She hoped that the little one wasn’t too much trouble for them. It was a blessed relief to have a break from the energetic child occasionally.

Sophie bit her lip. What had the people thought of her musical abilities? More importantly, what did Ian think? She needed the money, but most of all, she realized she didn’t want to disappoint him.

Who was that pushy woman in line with the ugliest brown hat she’d ever seen? It looked as though she’d been berating Ian.
Should she find out what was wrong? Or stay out of it? Before Sophie had a chance to decide, her thoughts were interrupted.

“Your playing is really something, Miss Biddle. You belong in a concert hall. How did you wind up working for Mrs. Fairgrave?” James stood before her in a brown wool suit.

“What kind of question is that?” Sophie examined his expression. After all, he might remind her of her brother, but who knew what James was attempting to dig up.

“Whatever can you mean?”

“You sound more like you’re looking for a newspaper story than starting a polite conversation.” Sophie gripped several sheets of music in front of her.

“Well, I suppose I do let my curiosity and concern for friends get the better of me.”

Sophie attempted a smile. “Don’t forget that such care will use all of a cat’s nine lives up. Or so it has been said. You needn’t worry over my situation. Now, if you’ll excuse me, James, I think someone wants to speak with me.” Being in public made her more uncomfortable than usual as his gaze trained on her. She really shouldn’t take out her worries of being discovered on James, but his questions about her past unnerved her. She made her way toward a woman standing patiently nearby.

“I’m Gloria Myles.” A petite thing, she glided in Sophie’s direction wearing an elegant black silk gown trimmed with what was likely French lace. “We are so delighted to have you here today.” Blonde hair, just starting to fade to white, framed her youthful face. As the lines around her eyes crinkled when she smiled, Sophie guessed the woman to be in her forties.

“Sophie Biddle.” The two shook hands in ladylike fashion.

“And this is my husband, Asa.” She gestured toward him with a hand gloved in fine soft leather.

A few strides behind Gloria, a portly man limped along with the help of his cane. The lines on his bearded face had dug their
troughs. As he drew closer, Sophie could see he probably was a few years older than his wife.

“Pleased to meet you, sir.”

“The pleasure is mine, Miss Biddle. I wasn’t sure if I could make it to church this morning—the gout, you know, but I’m elated that I did.” His smile seemed pained, but sincere.

A child who she guessed wasn’t more than five or six clung to Asa’s pant leg. “This is our granddaughter, Elise Barrington.” The gentleman patted the little girl’s head.

“I’m so glad to meet you, Elise.” Sophie bent and reached out for the small child’s hand.

Two luminous gray-blue eyes stared from the expressionless void of her face, then blinked. She snuggled closer to her grandpa’s side.

“I must apologize. She’s been through a lot, and she doesn’t talk much to anyone since the accident.” Gloria lowered her voice to a whisper and leaned closer. “W-we lost my daughter and her husband, Elise’s parents, nine months ago.”

“I’m so sorry.” Sophie touched Elise’s shoulder for a moment. She felt kinship with a child who had lost so much.

Gloria Myles moved closer to Sophie. “Sometimes she whispers, ‘Mama’ and watches forlornly out the window. She’s terribly shy and doesn’t talk much to anyone besides us, but she loves to sing. Don’t you?”

Silence claimed the next few moments while Elise nodded. The sad expressions on the Myles’ faces spoke far more than their words could have.

“I could tell that she loved listening to you playing the piano today, though.” Gloria breached the quietness.

“How could you tell?” Sophie wondered at how much they could understand a child who didn’t communicate very much to them.

“She smiled.” Gloria paused and her eyes glistened with moisture. “She hardly ever does that.”

Mr. Myles drew himself up to his full stature. “We were wondering if Elise could come and listen to you practice sometime?”

“That depends on Maggie’s approval. You see, I’ll be practicing at the parsonage.”

“If what’s all right with me?” Ian’s sister returned from placing the hymnbooks back in their holders with Philip’s help. “Caira was trying to help us, putting the books upside-down in the holders and dropping some of the hymnals, so I didn’t hear everything you said.” Maggie chuckled. “Took a minute for me to correct the little one’s help.”

“The Myleses were just asking if Elise could listen to me practice.”

“Only when it’s convenient, of course. We wouldn’t want to impose on you in any way.” Gloria’s eyebrows rose. She looked mortified at such a suggestion.

“We’d love to have her, if it’s all right with you, dear.” Maggie waited for Sophie’s reply.

“Of course. How about Wednesday afternoon around three? That was the time that you and I discussed.”

Maggie nodded her confirmation.

“I believe we are free that day. We’ll bring her then.” Gloria clasped her hands together like an overjoyed child. “It will be like attending a private concert. I have a feeling this will be just what our Elise needs.”

Sophie glanced from one face to another. Elise’s eyes brightened at the news. If nothing else, perhaps she could share the soothing touch of music with this bereft little girl. Maybe helping the Myles family would bring her acceptance into the community without drawing too much attention to her and Caira.

“All right, then. Thank you, Miss Biddle.” Mr. Myles snapped his pocket watch open. “I’ll go see if George has brought the carriage around yet, my dear.” He gave his wife a congenial smile.

“Elise and I will be right behind you.” Gloria took Elise’s hand and nodded toward Sophie. A black hat trimmed with crepe and one black silk rose tilted fashionably atop the elegant lady’s head.

Hopefully, the Myleses were as quiet and private as they seemed. Weren’t they? How many more surprises awaited her in a sleepy little town that wouldn’t allow her to remain anonymous? Just what was Ian McCormick getting her into?

CHAPTER 8

A
fter the harshness of winter, the promising February thaw refreshed her with new hope. Sophie could still see wisps of her breath in the cool air as she and Caira puffed along Main Street, toward the street where the parsonage stood. Her eyes were drawn to brightly colored calico dresses in the window of Millie’s, the only dress shop in town.

Green prints like the budding leaves of spring and pink prints that were as glorious as hyacinth and perfect for making an Easter outfit were displayed. They caused Sophie to stand still as though her feet were nailed to the boardwalk while she examined them.
How lovely.
Sophie sighed, recalling the days when she had a new wardrobe for each season as she had grown up, made to her mother’s specifications. Back then sewing had been a hobby, something to be enjoyed with her mama, not a requirement.

Caira fussed and pulled at her hand. Sophie looked down at her daughter, wearing a well-worn dress from a charity. Staring at both of their reflections in the glass made her think of pictures of immigrant refugees from Ellis Island. How she wished she could provide better for the two of them. No. She must sacrifice to give the best she could to Caira and not worry about herself. Perhaps if Esther continued to be happy with her work and she picked up
more mending jobs, she could stay long enough to save a nest egg and start her own business. Yet the true detriment to her would be the impractical nature of settling permanently anywhere.
Well, at least I can dream.

Caira pulled her back to reality with a tug. “We’ll be on our way soon, sweetheart.”

The toddler stomped and whined.

“Sh! Stop that Caira, right now.” Sophie tugged back.

The door of the shop swung open.

“Hmm.” A woman with a pinched, bird-like countenance gazed upon Sophie and crossed her arms.

Where had she seen her before? Atop the stranger’s head sat the ugliest brown hat she’d ever seen. It looked like a pile of crinkled brown paper with equally dull feathers sticking out every which way.

Ah yes, perhaps that was the woman she’d seen scolding Ian after the service last Sunday. She didn’t look like someone you’d want to make an enemy of, though Sophie wasn’t inclined to extend herself much toward the woman. However, there was no time like the present to attempt to melt the icy hardness in those eyes.

“Excuse me, I believe I’ve seen you at the Community Church. I’m Sophie Biddle.” She extended her hand gently and did her best to put a generous smile on her face.

“Humph. I’m Gertrude Wringer, not that it’s any of your business.” Her arms remained crossed against an emaciated frame. One eye narrowed and the other bulged with seeming scrutiny toward both of them.

Caira took one look at the hawkish stare and hid in her mother’s skirt, howling at the sight of the frightful woman.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, I’m sure.” Sophie swallowed and picked up her daughter, holding her close to her shoulder. She
hated these lies in her life, even the “white” ones. Would she ever be able to live honestly again?

Truthfully, she did hope that it would be good to meet the woman, that her kindness would have softened the tough exterior.

“What an absolutely horrid child. I can see you do nothing but spoil her. And that get-up you wore last Sunday, well, I hate to say where I would think that came from—”

“Whatever can you mean?” Fury rose with the bile in Sophie’s throat and she attempted to swallow it down. She pulled the end of her shawl closer.

“You might be able to perform a bit of music and have the wool pulled over the pastor’s eyes, but not mine. Mark my words, he’ll be sorry. I can see you’re just a pretender. How did
you
come by such a nice dress? And wearing something that fancy in church? You’re trying to call attention to yourself, no doubt! Rather tawdry, don’t you think? You’re not the decent sort of girl my niece, Nora, is, for example …” Frantically, the woman looked around, opened the door and called back into the store, “Nora, come here this minute!”

A wan-looking young woman probably around Sophie’s age, shuffled out. “Yes, Aunt Gertie.” Head bowed, Nora barely made eye contact.