Rumors and Promises (34 page)

People whispered. Questions of “What?” “Where?” and “How?” echoed around the sanctuary.

“I’m asking you to please join me in prayer for the beginning of a new work … a work that will be committed to showing Christ’s love to those who need it most.” Their eyes met longer than necessary. She saw the question, the anxiety in Ian’s eyes. Was he only seeking her support?

Sophie’s shoulders slackened as she sat back in the pew. And so it began. Could he have realized the truth she hid and pitied her? He had seemed to understand the thoughts of her heart more than once before. How painful facing him again would be. The contents of her stomach swirled and her heart squeezed with grief and confusion.

Movement to the right caught her eye. Gertrude Wringer stood, pointing a finger at Ian. “How could you propose such a thing for this town? Am I the only one in this church who cares about Stone Creek? Why would we bring immoral ne’er-do-wells and their illegitimate children to sully the reputation of our blessed town? When my father, Hiram Armstrong, settled in this town a generation ago, he came for the fresh air and clean living away from the city! This would dishonor his vision!”

While Ian rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, pain was written across his face.

A vein stood out on Elder Whitworth’s forehead. “I knew your father when I was a boy, Gertrude. When he started this church, he wanted to see the Body of Christ come together and love the unlovely—”

“I’m well aware of my father’s philanthropy! And
whom
should be considered worthy to receive it,” she hissed.

Elder Wringer stood next to his wife. “You shouldn’t get yourself so worked up about this, dear.” His voice sounded strained as he placed a hand in the crook of her elbow.

“Worked up? We already have one disreputable woman in this congregation influencing the pastor. Do we want more of them in this town, bent on showing our young men their evil ways?”

The congregation fell silent. Sophie wished she could dissolve into the puddle of tears that were forming in her eyes and slip underneath the pew. She grasped Caira close to her heart. What she’d feared all along was finally happening. Sophie felt frozen in time and stuck to her seat, reliving a scene played out in her life again and again—Caira and she were outcasts.

Gertrude’s eyes trained on Sophie. “And furthermore, I’m sure we could find out the truth about Miss Biddle over there if we wanted to. Who really believes that child is her little sister anyway? And if that wicked girl is going to be at the Myleses’ luncheon party, I don’t care to darken their doorstep.”

Gasps ascended from every corner.

“That’s quite enough of your haranguing, Gertrude!” Elder Whitworth boomed.

Gertrude pulled away from her husband’s grasp. “We’re leaving now, Edmund. Nora, I simply will not allow you to associate with that deceitful girl any longer.” Mrs. Wringer had Edmund and Nora well trained. Her niece stood, and they both followed her, bowing their heads. A chill draft followed behind the angry woman as she passed.

Gloria stepped into her path. “Sophie is our dear friend. She will be allowed to attend our party whether you like it or not.”

The congregation broke into hushed conversation. Electricity charged the audience as murmurs broke into arguments.

“This will be quite the story,” James mumbled.

“May I have your attention for another moment?” A bewildered Ian raised his voice. “It’s God’s desire for unity in our congregation. I had hoped we’d come together to build this ministry. Perhaps all of you need to pray about what God’s will is in this and then we should continue this discussion at a better time. I believe we should adjourn now.”

“I second that.” Dr. Moore stood and waved his hand. “Of all things.” He shook his head, looking disappointed as he frowned. The chaos in the congregation prevented a further vote.

Ian’s eyes glazed. Were those unshed tears? Sophie had never seen him seem so dejected when he glanced at her as he walked toward the back of the church. “Maggie, please take Caira for me.” While she should still feel rooted to her seat, something stronger than her will, a depth of compassion for the man she cared for above any other drew her out of herself.

“Certainly.” Her dear friend took the sleeping child to her own lap.

As she made her way down the aisle, Cecelia, Helena, and their friends turned away, snickering and whispering to one another. Sophie’s chin went up. This wasn’t the first time she’d been shunned and hurt deeply, but she didn’t have to let them know. “Excuse me, ladies.” She sidled past them.

“Can you believe how brazen she is? Why, I heard she fell into the arms of the pastor on purpose when they were at the work bee at that awful boardinghouse.” Helena’s comment was spoken just loud enough for her to hear.

“You don’t say?” One of the other girls dignified the gossip.

“And I heard she threw herself into his arms out on the street during the winter.” Cecilia’s stage whisper did nothing to hide her contempt.

Sophie followed Ian as he made his way through the crowd and out the door. His long strides took him outside the building and down the street much faster than she with her shorter legs. “Ian! Please wait.” He kept walking.

She finally reached his side, a block away from the church. Feeling like a foolish child, she tugged at his sleeve. When Ian stopped and turned toward Sophie, her heart pounded.

“What is it?” Ian’s lake-blue eyes had grown mercurial with emotion, perhaps sadness … and anger.

She’d grown to trust him, so the fear that crept in with his response surprised Sophie. “I … I wanted to make sure that you… are all right.” Maybe she should tell him her whole story—that she understood he was trying to help people like herself, who had no place to go, but this didn’t seem to be the time.

Ian raked a hand through his dark waves. “All is not right with me or the world. You of all people must understand. You’ve seen it for yourself. Look how they treated you. And I certainly never meant for you to take the brunt of it.” He took her gloved hands into his. “I’m truly sorry for that. But as long as Gertrude Wringer has her way, the congregation will see me as no more than a boy manipulated by a board of cowering elders and unruly, spiteful women!”

“No. I wouldn’t think that for a minute. You have Elder Whitworth, Dr. Moore, Asa and Gloria Myles who believe in you.”
And me
, she lacked the courage to add. “You can’t just give up.” Sophie stared up at him, searching for his usual hope and cheerfulness.

“It’s over.” He shook his head. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some thinking and praying to do. Alone.” Ian pulled back and turned away.

Sophie wished she could tell him that she would pray for him with all her might, but she wasn’t sure if God yet wanted to hear her prayers. She would try as she always did.
Please help Ian. He’s a good man.
A slight breeze chilled the air as the sun ducked behind the clouds. Sophie hugged her arms to herself. She felt as empty as a teacup turned upside down on a drain board after being washed out.

CHAPTER 20

I
an handed over the reins and charge of his horse to the stable boy at Apple Blossom House after they alighted from his buggy.

“This way, sir, ma’am.” Mr. Starks, the tall, straight-faced servant bowed.

“Thank you.” Ian and Maggie followed him on the path around to the back of the house while Ian’s nephew bounded ahead. “Philip! Don’t run! You need to behave like a gentleman—the way your mother told you to.”

The boy slowed to a jaunty walk. “Yes, Uncle Ian.”

Maggie caught up and grabbed him by the collar. “I expect a much better demonstration of behavior in front of Elise and Caira.” She straightened the collar beneath his red hair before he could barge ahead.

“Yes, Mother.” His tone sounded deflated, if not disrespectful.

“There will be plenty of chances to run later. I’m sure the Myleses will have games for you to play.” Ian patted the boy on the back. He felt sympathy for Philip. Ian’s heart was alight with joy every time he pictured Sophie. How he would like to run ahead and embrace her as Philip wanted to embrace this beautiful Saturday in May with all of his youthful exuberance. Ian’s conscience placed a heavy feeling on his heart, holding him back. He sometimes
wanted to pull from its grasp and run ahead, but he knew what kind of risk the impetuousness might bring them … both Sophie and himself.

They rounded the corner of the large Queen Anne style home, with its welcoming wraparound porch, scattered with arrangements of wicker furniture. Mr. Starks cleared his throat. “The Reverend Ian McCormick, Mrs. Margaret Galloway, and Master Philip, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Starks.” Gloria came toward them with arms outstretched. Her eyes shone with a brightness that Ian hadn’t noticed since before the death of her daughter and son-in-law.

“I’m so happy you’re all here. Philip, help yourself to some lemonade. Elise will be out to keep you company soon.” The elegant woman was dressed in an outfit draped with a layer of silvery gray chiffon. She linked arms with Maggie and walked between her and Ian, guiding them toward the backyard. “I have a lovely surprise for all of you. I can’t wait to share it after lunch.” She chatted on about her English-style gardens before excusing herself to take care of some social detail.

Ian took in a sweeping view of the gardens and the fruit orchards beyond. Tulips had poked their head above the soil and stood in different stages of bloom while leaves unfurled in trees nearby. Harp music drifted across the lawn, soothing his anxious thoughts.

A young woman stood with curly chestnut hair flowing down the length of her back. She turned toward him. Sophie? He’d never seen all of her tresses cascading over her shoulders before. She wore a dark green gown with a sheen that contrasted with the spark in her amber eyes. A half smile dimpled her cheek. His heart quickened. Though no severe hairstyle or plain clothing could hide her beauty, this softer side of Sophie reflected the caring young mother he’d come to know.

He swallowed. Only a few weeks ago she had abided under his roof while he hid in the study. Yet he’d been able to converse with her every day. Why was it so difficult to think about greeting her now? Recalling his gruffness the last time they had spoken didn’t help. He remembered the wounded look in her tawny eyes. Ian shoved his hands in his pockets, and like a schoolboy tried to find his voice.

She ambled toward him. Other people’s voices faded into the background. “You’re all here. I’m so glad.” Sophie hugged his sister.

“We wouldn’t miss the social event of the season, would we now, Ian?” Maggie poked an elbow into his ribs.

“Of course not.” Now, what would he say next? Eloquent words escaped him. Somehow, not seeing Sophie every day caused him to observe her in a whole new light. Could she have grown more beautiful in just a couple of weeks? Or was it because he missed seeing her with a flour-splotched face, or patiently bent over Caira, teaching her some new skill?

The elbow dug into his side again. “We’re equally pleased to see you, Sophie.”

“Took you long enough,” Maggie whispered.

A long table had been set with crisp white linens and gleaming china. Esther Fairgrave sat fanning herself while Mr. Graemer, seated next to her in a wicker chair, had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Ian smiled. You couldn’t keep either of them comfortable with spring weather. A light breeze suffused the balmy air and the sun attempted to dodge the clouds.

“Looks like there will be quite a spread, doesn’t it?” His stomach rumbled. Until then, he hadn’t realized how hungry he was.