Rumors and Promises (4 page)

“Not my new towel!” Esther’s hands went up in defeat.

Sophie tried harder to suppress a giggle.

“I’m very sorry, ma’am.” James held the dirt-streaked towel out to her.

“The damage is done now.” Esther sighed deeply. “Go wash your hands, so you’re ready for supper.” The corners of Esther’s mouth twitched upward as James left the kitchen. “He’s my best friend’s nephew. She raised him from a tadpole. And when the job opened up at our little paper, I told her I’d watch out for him if he got hired.” Esther pounded the tenderizing mallet into the stew meat. “He needs to grow up a bit. Then hopefully he’ll meet a nice girl.”

Sophie’s neck itched. She scrunched up her shoulder, not liking where the conversation headed. “Well, what a good thing he has you to look out for him.”

Ian came in through the back door of the parsonage, glancing at the two packages he carried under his arm. In her hurry to escape his company, Miss Biddle had left her purchases in his buggy. He’d been so taken with his new acquaintance, he hadn’t noticed until he’d arrived home.

“What’s in the extra package? I didn’t ask you to shop for anything. I thought you were just picking up sheet music today.” His sister, Maggie, sniffed, standing with hands on her hips.

Ian took no offense at her scolding tone. Maggie usually said what was on her mind, but had a heart of pure gold.

“No, I took Esther Fairgrave’s new employee home. She happened to leave her bundle in the buggy.”

“You shouldn’t have been traipsing around in weather like this. Let them walk. I can’t stand the thought of your getting a deep cough again—or heaven forbid, losing you to pneumonia, like …” She paused. “Like I lost Robert.”

Maggie’s protectiveness touched Ian when he wasn’t annoyed by it.

“I thought, dear sister, that when we decided to move you here, we agreed that I didn’t need another mother. God rest her soul.”

“That’s right. You need a wife.”

“In due time. I’ve woman enough to deal with at the moment.” Still very much the younger brother, Ian enjoyed teasing her.

Maggie’s anger dissipated. “I guess I have been rather shrewish lately. I’m sorry.” Her expression grew melancholy. “I know I haven’t been the same since I don’t have Robert to nag anymore. And at six, Philip doesn’t listen to me, anyway.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t nag either of us.” He grinned, raising one eyebrow at her. “Hmm?”

Maggie crossed her arms, frowning at Ian’s gentle jibe. The sad, faraway look disappeared. “I suppose if you put it that way, I ought to have already learned my lesson living with nothing but stubborn men.”

He brushed the snow off his hat and coat before Maggie hung them up.

“I do need to get these back to the young lady.” He held up Sophie’s package.

“You can’t go out again in this weather. Stay home and have some soup with Philip and me until the snow subsides.”

He rubbed the side of his face thoughtfully. His stomach rumbled at the tempting aroma of onions and potatoes. It sounded much more practical than hitching up the horses to the sleigh and losing his way in a near blizzard.

“All right, then,” said Ian.

“I’m eager to think Philip will be home in time to eat with us. In this weather, I’m expecting his teacher will dismiss early.”

“Let’s hope so.”

Ian made his way to the upright piano in the parlor. He pulled the music from its wrapping and placed the sheets of Chopin on the rack.

The piece was new to him, but he attempted to bring the notes on the page to life. Ian liked to joke that God had made him a rather poor musician so that he would hear the call to preach. He loved music and had a bit of talent, but he would never have graced the concert halls of Europe or New York City.

The melancholy melody brought up the image of Sophie Biddle in his mind with her ivory complexion, tinged with pink. Dark circles gave her amber eyes a haunted look, as though sad stories were buried in her heart.

And what of the girl’s sister? Such a heavy burden for a young woman to bear alone! Where were their parents? Had there been other brothers and sisters?

His fingers crossing in a clumsy tangle, Ian began again in frustration, trying to pour all his concentration into the music. He didn’t need to get involved in the life of a young woman who wasn’t interested in his help. The job of preacher came with enough complications already. Plus, he had plans, important things to accomplish for the Lord.

Maybe he should tell the Stone Creek Ladies’ Aid Society about the bedraggled pair. Yet, even as he considered this, Ian knew within that Miss Biddle wouldn’t be dismissed so easily. The silent plea in her eyes dredged up emotions he thought he’d long buried. With a groan, Ian banged on the ivory keys and then laid his head on his arms.
Annie.
He’d seen the same look on her face before.

“What’s wrong?” Maggie placed a hand on his shoulder.

Ian looked up at his older sister, not wanting to speak of the plaguing thoughts of failure. He could barely swallow. She had enough to worry about as a widow raising a son. Besides, even if he wanted to vent his anguish, the stinging, sharp blade in his throat would not allow it.

Where would he begin, anyway? He hadn’t told Maggie the whole story. “I’ll be fine, Maggie, really.” He managed to croak out that much anyway.

“Very well, then. How about if I make you something warm to drink. Tea? Cocoa? Besides, I want to hear about the kind of gal Esther managed to rope into helping take care of that bunch of fellows in her house.”

“I suppose we could both use some lighter conversation.” He forced a smile. No reason to dwell on the past when the present held a more pleasant subject.

CHAPTER 2

T
he snow-cushioned clip-clop of the horse’s hooves and the tinkling of sleigh bells created a winter melody as Ian drove the sleigh toward the boardinghouse the following morning. He’d thought he felt a spool or two of thread through the brown paper wrapping of Miss Biddle’s package and wanted to get them to her as soon as he could. Since she was a seamstress, they were surely vital to her livelihood.

Besides, returning the package gave him an excuse to see what else he could find out about the two sisters. The cold air stung like eucalyptus oil vapors Maggie made sure he inhaled when he’d had a cough, yet the wind opened his lungs and refreshed him. Even Maggie’s scolding would not keep him inside. He wrapped the scarf closer around his chin. Snow blanketed the ground and adorned the trees. Sun strained through the dull, gray clouds, sending thin shafts of golden light onto the glistening snow like God raining down His blessings.

Sophie cleaned the cast iron bacon skillet while Caira sat on the kitchen floor banging a wooden spoon on a dented pot. “Shush.
Not so loud, honey, Mrs. Fairgrave has a headache.” Sophie bent, placing a finger over her mouth.

“Sh.” The little one repeated and put her finger to her lips.

“Here, let’s stir instead.” Sophie pulled a wooden bowl off the shelf. “We’ll mix up batter for pancakes.” She poured in an imaginary cup of flour, stirred and pretended to taste the concoction. “Mm.” She handed her daughter the bowl.

“Mm.” Caira imitated her mother again and giggled.

“There you go.” Sophie couldn’t hide a smile or even pretend to be cross when her daughter played joyfully on the floor next to her. They would clean up the strewn utensils later. Her mother had always commented on how she had grown up “in the blinking of an eye.” Sophie had begun to understand her mother’s lament. Though their life wasn’t easy, she determined that she would enjoy Caira’s childhood, especially since she would likely be an only child.

A few chips of paint scattered the sideboard. Sophie glanced up. Paint peeled from the ceiling as well as the walls. She would have to make sure none got into the food. Shaking her head, she swept the paint pieces from the sideboard into her hand and disposed of them in the wastebasket.

“You must have our little gal stop jingling bells or whatever she’s doing!” Mrs. Fairgrave said from where she lay on the chaise. “And bring me some headache powder in a glass of water, please.” She groaned.

“What?” Then Sophie heard it, a soft jingling that brought up memories of Christmases past, back home. She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the cheerful sound.

“Sophie!”

“It’s not Caira, ma’am. Someone’s coming down the street in a sleigh.” Sophie measured the powder and stirred it into a glass of water she’d poured from a full pitcher.

“What’s next, an army coming through? I am going to rest in my room. I only hope you can handle everything.”

“I’ll be fine.” Sophie assured her employer as she stepped into the parlor to hand her the remedy. She was amazed Mr. Graemer slept through the commotion in the midst of the parlor.

“Well, I’m already learning to rely on you since yesterday, my dear.” The widow lumbered toward the stairs with the glass in her hand.

Sophie hurried to peek out from behind the yellowed lace parlor curtain. Reverend McCormick? His sleigh was gliding toward the boardinghouse. Unprepared for an unannounced caller, she sighed. Her neck and face warmed. Her silly nerves!

Reaching for stray strands of hair, she adjusted her hairpins to catch them, hung up her apron, and smoothed her dress. After all, he was an important person in the town. Of course, she would want to look presentable. “A justifiable reason,” Sophie whispered in argument with herself.

More important, Esther would want her to make sure the parlor looked presentable. Sophie pulled a sock she’d been mending from the walnut end table cornered between the horsehair sofa and chair, plopping it in the basket under the table. She straightened the faded quilts covering the backs of the furniture.