Rumors and Promises (23 page)

Ian leaned toward her. “Of course there’s hope. There always is with our Savior. He loves your daughter more than you do.”

“Will you pray for her? For our family?” Her eyes shone with fresh tears, pleading for someone to understand the brokenness of her heart.

He nodded.

“Her name is Sophia.” Then the soft-spoken woman lifted the delicate gold locket and opened it to show Ian her picture.

A heart-shaped face, with a dimpled chin below a slightly crooked grin looked out at him with eyes full of innocence and trust. Ian blinked. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. “How long ago was that?” His voice came out in a rasp.

“It’s been two long years without Sophia and the little one. Caira’s what we named her. I wonder how big my granddaughter is now. We’ve done everything we can to find them. All we can do now is pray.”

Ian nodded again.
Sophie Biddle was actually Sophia Bidershem? Caira was her daughter, not her little sister?
And this lovely, sad
woman in front of him was looking for answers that he didn’t feel free to give until his suspicions were confirmed. Surely there was some reason Sophie had not told him the truth. He wasn’t sure whether the knife in his soul was from seeing the poignant heartbrokenness of her mother or from knowing that Sophie had held a secret back from him. How could he reassure one without betraying the trust of the other?

He patted her hand. “Praying is the best thing to do. Remember that. God will hear you. You don’t know that there isn’t a miracle waiting for you around the corner, Mrs. Bidershem.” In fact, Ian was sure this meeting was no accident. He wished he could assure her that all would be well, but first he would have to gain Sophie’s confidence.

“Thank you, Reverend. I just had to talk to someone … to have someone share our burden in prayer. I had a little son who died from a fever when he was just a tyke. The grief of not knowing what has become of my daughter and granddaughter is almost as deep … other than to believe I will see them again someday.”

“Of course. Your burdens have been great, Mrs. Bidershem.”

“You’ve been so kind.”

A rotten feeling set in for not telling her about Sophie and Caira, but he had to be sure it was the correct thing to do at the right time.

Sophie and Maggie went around the parsonage to turn up the gaslights as darkness descended. Stopping, Sophie stood up straight, rolled her shoulders back and rubbed her sides.

“Monday is a busy day at the boardinghouse … all those linens needing to be washed. I’m afraid I feel it, too.” Maggie rubbed her neck. “And it doesn’t sound like Esther will be back anytime too
soon in her letter. It’s a shame the children are having such a rough time with their mother being sent to bed in her condition.”

“I’m sorry, Maggie. It will be a good thing for you, too, when Esther gets back.”

“Don’t you worry, now. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I only hope that I didn’t mix up my brother’s things with any of the boarders’.” Maggie chuckled. “I might get fired.”

“Hardly.” Sophie joined her laughter. She looked around. How quiet the house seemed. No light gleamed from under the study door. The woodsy citrus scent that always followed Ian was absent. Disappointment weighed on Sophie’s heart. “Where is Ian?”

“Ian!” Maggie called out. No answer. “That’s odd. Oh yes, he was going into Detroit with Elder Whitworth today. I remember now.”

“Look, did you see this?” Sophie pointed to an envelope on the table, addressed to Maggie.

“How could I have missed this?” She unwrapped and read the note. “Ian says here though he hopes to return on the evening train, there’s always a possibility they will have to stay the night, so not to worry if he doesn’t come home. I suppose he was kind to leave a reminder, knowing how I fuss over him.”

“What are they doing in Detroit?” Why didn’t she know what was going on? Sophie remembered Maggie speaking in hushed tones with Ian in his study the night before, but she figured they discussed family business. Yet somehow she felt badly she’d been left out.

Caira started to whine. “Where ’Cowmick?”

“It sounds like you need to have some warm cocoa with us, little one. Sophie, would you like some, too?” Maggie smiled, her eyes filled with concern and tenderness toward Caira.

“Reverend McCormick went out of town, dear.” Sophie sat in a rocking chair and pulled Caira onto her lap.

Her daughter stiffened in Sophie’s grip. “Wan’ ’Cowmick!”

“He’s not here. If you want warm cocoa and a story tonight, you need to calm down, sweetie.” Sophie rocked her while Maggie disappeared into the kitchen.

Maggie came back and reached for Caira. “There, there. Let Mrs. Galloway help you put your nightgown on.” The little girl wailed.

“Sophie, why don’t you stir the milk until it’s hot. I’ll take care of your little sister. You need a break, my dear,” Maggie said as she carried her up the stairs.

“Can I help you, Mama?” Philip met Maggie as he was coming back downstairs.

“If you’re done with your homework, then put away your playthings and you can have cocoa before you go to bed.” Maggie’s voice trailed up the stairs.

Sophie went to the yarn basket to find the mittens she was knitting for Caira. She’d already made one small pair and was delighted to find that she had enough yarn for a larger pair to be prepared for next winter. Taking them into the kitchen with her, she sat in a chair by the stove. Her hands warmed as the needles clicked together, but her heart lacked the spark to be warmed, as well. After all the time she’d spent trying to prove to Ian that she wasn’t a flirt, she had to admit his absence left a void. Steam rose from the pan of milk. She went to stir it.

Ian hadn’t even said “good-bye” to her. Then again, he probably left while she and Maggie were at the boardinghouse. Sophie sighed. She shouldn’t feel so hurt. Ian had no obligation to her beyond that of a pastor and a host.

She reached to the shelf above the stove for the cocoa powder, a little sugar, and a pinch of salt and then mixed them in.
Just the way Ian likes it.
Maggie had shown her. As she stirred the ingredients into the warm milk, Sophie thought about how delectable the cocoa smelled. Yet, without the sugar, one could only taste the
bitterness. Perhaps life held the same quality; without some trouble in life it was hard to appreciate the good.

When life had been pleasant, without a care in the world, she hadn’t been as grateful as she should be. This time of being at the parsonage was definitely precious to her. While she missed Ian that night, she would do her best to appreciate the warmth and safety of staying in Ian’s home for a short time, but his absence brought the thought of the bitter times of loneliness in her past and likely in her future.

Maggie and Caira’s giggling caught her attention. She heard the sound of their tromping feet as they descended the stairs while they sang “London Bridge.”

Sophie poured the steaming hot cocoa into Blue Willow teacups and carried them into the dining room on a tray.

“Oh my dear Sophie, you do enough waiting on people. Working at the boardinghouse with you, I can surely attest to that! Sit down, right this very minute.”

“But Maggie, your magic banished Caira’s crabbiness. I don’t mind waiting on you.” Sophie exchanged a smile with her friend. She’d always wanted a sister. The way Maggie had taken her under her wing and helped her in many ways made Sophie think of her as the closest thing to a sister she had. Ian was blessed.

Maggie sipped on her cocoa. “It’s perfect.”

“Thank you, Miss Biddle.” Philip smiled and blew on the liquid in the cup in front of him.

“Mm. Co-co, co-co.” Caira took sips from the spoonful that Sophie blew on to cool the hot drink.

“I guess I owe you an explanation,” Maggie confessed. “As you know, Ian has a heart for the less privileged.” She looked off as though thinking of something far away or perhaps long in the past. “Once the children go upstairs, what do you say we’ll have a little talk and finish up what’s left of the cocoa?”

“Of course.” Sophie kept her face straight, hoping to hide her strange unease though her stomach knotted while she waited to hear what Maggie had to say.

Twenty minutes passed before Philip excused himself. “I’m done with my hot cocoa. Can I play with Caira?” The little boy looked up at Maggie.

“Why don’t you read to her now. It’s almost bedtime.”

“Yes, Mama.” Philip smiled.

Sophie watched her baby eagerly take Philip’s hand, her big gray eyes shining with the anticipation of hearing a story and with trust for someone she looked up to. Philip had been very kind to Caira. Sophie supposed that not having any younger siblings, the toddler provided a novelty for the little redheaded boy, though she could be naughty sometimes. She marveled that he’d not grown sick of her yet, supposing she was the only one who loved Caira enough to not get tired of her antics.

Sophie had made enough cocoa to include Ian without thinking, so she reheated it and peeled the skin off the top after the children were tucked into bed, pouring the serving into two china cups. The two young women settled themselves on the chaise. Maggie began again in hushed tones. “Ian has seen some very sad situations as a minister. He takes on responsibility for things that aren’t really his to worry about.”

“Like what?” Sophie continued to enjoy the bittersweet cocoa drink.

“Suffice to say, he saw a young woman, shunned from good society. The poor thing had been abused by relatives and had nowhere to go. There were rumors of insanity. They found her dead, with child, in a river. Ian’s never gotten over the awful sight.” Maggie paused to take another swallow. “My little brother is bound and determined to start a home for wayward young ladies and even a small orphanage.”

Sophie blinked. The pretty earthenware cup almost slipped from her hand. She felt the blood drain from her face. Putting the cup down haphazardly on the saucer, she could feel the warm liquid slosh over the top, onto her hand.

“Sophie? Are you all right?” Maggie reached over to pat her arm. “As I was saying, he went to visit the Florence Crittenton Home to see how they run things. He should be back tomorrow.”

Sophie shook herself from dizzying thoughts and took a deep breath. The implications flooded her mind. Home for unwed mothers? An orphanage? Girls would enter the home before their pregnancy showed. Likely the neighbors they left behind would have been told that they were visiting a distant relative. After they gave birth, the babies would be plucked from their arms and sent to the orphanage, so the girls could go home and pretend nothing happened. Then each one could be available for the next eligible suitor … like Ariel had been.

Her fate would have been the same, but for the fact her father had hoped she would marry Charles. In nightmares, how many times had Caira had been yanked from her arms? Sophie had often awoken to look for Caira, afraid she would never see her again. Her heart would only calm from its wild beating when she could see and feel her daughter in the bed, next to her.

A shiver traveled Sophie’s spine at the thought of being separated from her precious daughter. She hugged herself, attempting to control the shaking.

“Sophie, are you all right? Or are you getting sick? You’re positively pale, dear.” Maggie had lifted the teacup and saucer from her hands and set them on the round table near the end of the chaise. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Sophie nodded. “I’m sure I’ll be all right. I’m just tired.” But she couldn’t find the strength to stand. What kind of disease made you feel as though your very heart and soul were being pulled apart?

“Honestly, Esther leaving you like this—not that she had much of a choice. This going back and forth is just too much for you. I can see you’re more delicate than I am and probably need to stay inside more this time of year, when everybody is catching cold.”

Sophie’s throat burned as she swallowed. Perhaps her heart alone wasn’t becoming sick, but her whole body. She didn’t have time for such a thing!