The Carousel Painter (44 page)

When I’d told how Tyson had wrenched my arm during my hasty return to Mr. Charleston’s shop, Josef tensed. He clenched his teeth and growled, “It is probably gut I was not there. I would still be using my fists on him.” We all laughed, but later I told him that his protective words had warmed my heart.

Once Mrs. Wilson and Mr. Lundgren went off to secure the house for the night, I moved nearer to Josef. “Tomorrow after church, I must go and speak to Augusta. She deserves to hear from me what has happened.”

“I will go with you,” Josef said. “We both need to speak with Mr. Galloway, as well.” Josef placed a fleeting kiss on my cheek. “All day I prayed for your safety, and God protected you. I am most thankful.” His eyes glistened in the dim light. “Now we must go to bed, or tomorrow we will fall asleep during the preacher’s message. Would not be gut to do such a thing.”

Josef followed me up the stairs. When we arrived on the second floor, he bid me good-night, and I continued upstairs to my room. It was late, but after I’d prepared for bed, I dropped to my knees and thanked God for the safety He’d provided me. I also thanked Him for the safe return of the two paintings. But mostly I thanked Him for sending Josef into my life: a good man, a man who loved God, a man I could trust.

When I rose from my knees, my eyes were drawn to the empty space on the wall—the place where my picture had hung. “And thank you for giving me the opportunity to help Josef,” I whispered before I slipped between the fresh sheets and buried my nose in the sweet-smelling pillowcase.

The following morning I awakened to Mrs. Wilson rapping on my door. “Carrie! Are you awake? You better hurry or you’ll be late for church.”

I jumped out of bed and prepared in such a rush that I forgot my Bible and had to race back up the two flights of stairs. Then I realized I’d forgotten my reticule and again scurried up the steps. When next I discovered I’d forgotten my gloves, I decided the Lord would forgive the oversight. I lacked the fortitude to manage even one more flight of those wretched stairs.

Mr. Lundgren and Mrs. Wilson led the way on our walk to church. Since that first day when Mrs. Wilson had ordered Josef to escort me, it had become our accepted pattern, and I held tight to his arm. Rather than focusing on the Lord, I could think of nothing beyond Augusta and the sad news about Tyson I would soon give her. I glanced at Josef. His dark eyes reflected sympathy, and he patted my hand. How had he sensed my anxiety? I once again offered a prayer of thanks that God had sent Josef into my life, but this time it was a silent prayer.

Throughout the church service, I did my best to listen to the preacher. I had hoped to hear something that would help me when I later approached Augusta. Unfortunately, my mind wandered during the sermon. If the preacher said anything that would have provided guidance, I missed it.

“Was a gut sermon the preacher gave us, ja?”

I lifted one shoulder and let it drop. I didn’t want to lie, but I didn’t want to admit I hadn’t been listening.

Josef grinned and touched his forefinger to his head. “Your thoughts, they were on the Galloways instead of the preacher.”

I nodded. He knew me so well. Rather than turning over my cares to the Lord, my worries had grown to magnificent proportion. Even if Augusta had given up on Tyson as a marital prospect, she’d still be devastated by the news of his criminal behavior. And who could say whether she’d given up on the idea of Tyson and marriage. If she’d found no other love interest, she might still be pining for him. She’d made it clear she remained enamored of him when we met in the park. The thought made me cringe, for I’d be the one to deliver the appalling news.

“We should return home and eat before going to the Galloways’.

Otherwise we’ll interrupt their meal,” I said.

Josef didn’t argue. Although I’m sure he realized I wanted to delay our visit to the Galloway home, my suggestion also contained some merit. Neither of us would want to dine with the family and then present them with unpleasant news.

When we arrived home, I slipped upstairs to my bedroom while Mrs. Wilson completed preparations for the noonday meal. I opened my Bible and searched for something that would sustain me through my encounter with Augusta. Following Mrs. Wilson’s instruction, I’d been doing my best to make my way entirely through the Bible, but I had skipped over a number of passages where there seemed to be more
begat
s than anything else.

Josef had told me he’d learned much from the Psalms and Proverbs, and they were near the middle of the Bible. I’d try that first. Inserting my finger between the pages, I opened to Proverbs 27. My gaze dropped to the sixth verse.
Faithful are the wounds of a friend; but the kisses of an
enemy are deceitful.
I leaned back in the chair. Would Augusta accept the wounds I would impose upon her today? Would she believe they were inflicted to protect her? Would she believe Tyson to be her enemy, or would I forever be assigned that role? Surely she would realize that Tyson was not the man God intended for her.

When I walked downstairs, Josef was standing outside his bedroom door with his Bible lying open in his hand. His eyes softened with kindness, and he stepped forward. He tapped his forefinger on a Bible verse. “To speak to Augusta is a hard thing. God has given me this passage for you.”

“From Psalms.”

He nodded. “Ja. Psalm 121. This you must read.”

As we hurried from the house to catch the streetcar, Mrs. Wilson bid us farewell with a bravado that made me wonder if she had sensed my apprehension. Josef had suggested a carriage, but I thought the cost too extravagant. He didn’t argue. Obviously he wanted me to remain calm. That’s exactly what I wanted, too.

Far too soon for my liking, we strode up the wide walkway leading to the expansive porch that bordered the front of the mansion. Silently I murmured the words from the psalm Josef had given me.
I will lift up
mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from
the Lord, which made heaven and earth.
There were some verses in between that I couldn’t recall, but I did remember the one that said,
The Lord shall
preserve thee from all evil: he shall preserve thy soul.
I didn’t believe Augusta was evil, but I might need to be preserved from her wrath.

A maid I’d never before seen rushed to the door before Josef could strike the brass knocker against the door. Her eyes shone with disapproval. Though no carriages lined the driveway, I wondered if we might be intruding.

“Would you please tell Miss Augusta that Carrington Brouwer and Josef Kaestner are here to speak with her?”

“Are you expected?”

“No, but if you would tell her I have a matter of importance to discuss, I believe she’ll see me.”

The maid permitted us entry into the foyer and made it clear we should await her return. She made Frances seem like a gentle saint. I glanced about and hoped either Frances or Thomas might appear. A glimpse of either would have lessened my anxiety. The disquieting feelings I’d experienced during my initial arrival at the Galloway home returned with a rush. At least back then I’d known Augusta would be pleased to see me. Now I wondered if any member of the family would welcome my visit. Before I could further contemplate their reaction, the unpleasant maid returned, with Augusta following close on her heels. I struggled to relax my clenched fists. Inhaling a deep breath, I forced myself to smile.

Her formal greeting was as icy as a frozen pond. “You wish to speak with me?”

“Yes. I apologize for calling without an appointment, but . . .”

She sniffed. “I wouldn’t expect
you
to abide by rules of etiquette.”

Her comment struck like pellets of sleet, and I instinctively took a backward step. “This is a matter of great importance, Augusta. News I wish to deliver in private.” I glanced toward the maid, who appeared to be enjoying our exchange.

“Is that why you brought Josef along? Because you want to speak to me alone?” She cloaked her anger with clipped, controlled words.

Before I could respond, Mr. Galloway entered the foyer. “Look who’s here! Josef! Carrington! Why didn’t you tell us we had company, Augusta?” Her father stepped forward to grasp Josef’s hand. “What brings the two of you to Fair Oaks? Augusta didn’t mention you were going to pay us a visit.”

Once her father arrived, Augusta’s mood lightened, and she immediately suggested the two of us visit in the music room. Josef motioned for me to go along. “You go and talk. While you are with Augusta, I will speak to Mr. Galloway about the contract.”

Remembering the verses from Proverbs, I silently followed Augusta to the music room.

Lips tight and shoulders rigid, she sat opposite me. “Well? What do you wish to tell me?”

My words flowed with surprising ease and tenderness. I relayed all that had occurred: Tyson’s thievery, the lookalike he’d used as a decoy, his capture in Cincinnati, and his lack of remorse for those he’d injured. “I know you cared for Tyson, and it’s difficult for you to hear these things. I only hope you know that it causes me great pain to bring you this news.” I reached forward and prayed she would accept my hand in friendship. Though it seemed an eternity, only a few seconds passed before she leaned forward and grasped my fingers.

“I didn’t want to believe Tyson was a scoundrel, but deep in my heart I knew he didn’t truly love me. I became angry when I knew he’d never commit to me. When Mary Flinchbaugh told me she’d seen the two of you together, I thought it impossible. But I wanted to blame someone else for his lack of affection. Can you ever forgive me?”

Her apology washed over me with a cleansing relief. “There is nothing to forgive. I told you that day in the park that I was still your friend. That has never changed—not for me.”

“You’ve changed, Carrie. You’re not the same person who came to Collinsford. I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s been a change. What is it?”

“Thanks to Josef and Mrs. Wilson, I’ve been reading the Bible, and I’ve discovered there is much more to being a Christian than attending church on Sunday. It’s a very difficult thing to live as a Christian. I’m trying my best, but I certainly don’t have the attributes of the martyrs I’ve read about.”

Augusta tipped her head, and her lips curved in a half smile. “I think what you experienced with Tyson might qualify you for martyrdom.” We embraced, and then Augusta spoke of her father’s illness. “We’ve not yet sold the house, but we’re going to move next month—to Colorado. We’re told the climate may help restore Father’s health, although there’s no promise from the doctors. Mother is beside herself with worry.”

“Will Ronald relocate, as well?” I wondered if he’d gathered the courage to tell his parents about the young woman who had captured his heart.

“No. He’s met a young woman and plans to live near her home in Boston. He’s secured a position with a bank. I don’t think Mother approves. The woman’s family isn’t on the social register, but Ronald says he’s going to marry for love.”

“Good for Ronald. I hope that he’ll be happy with his new position and the young lady proves to be a good match.”

Josef tapped on the doorframe. Mr. Galloway stood behind him. “We can join you?” I nodded and motioned him forward. “Mr. Galloway says he will change the contract so that the factory will belong to us as equal partners.”

Mr. Galloway sat down on the brocade sofa. “And I’d like to exchange paintings with you.”

“Exchange paintings? Whatever do you mean?”

“Josef explained that you own two other paintings that your father completed before his death. I’d prefer to return the carousel painting to you, and I’ll choose one of the others as collateral for your loan. That painting of you on a carousel horse should be hanging on
your
wall, not mine.”

Mr. Galloway’s generosity amazed me. “You are too kind,” I whispered.

“A person can never be too kind,” he said. “Besides, there is great pleasure when I see the results of my kindness. It gives me immense joy—perhaps even more joy than that of the recipient.”

Not caring what anyone would think, I rushed forward and embraced him. “I don’t think that’s true in this case.” I stepped back and placed my palm on my heart. “In the short time since we’ve met, you have shown me great kindness. Where would I be without my job at the factory?

And now, your willingness to return my painting . . .” My voice cracked with emotion, but this time it was not an urge to giggle. Instead, I forced back tears: tears of joy and tears of thanks. Although I was grateful for the things he’d done for me, mostly I was thankful I’d been given the opportunity to observe him living a godly life. Mr. Galloway transcended mere talk and exhibited his faith through example. Even when faced with a bleak medical diagnosis, he’d continued to treat others with love and benevolence.

As Josef and I prepared to depart, I hugged Augusta and promised one more visit to Fair Oaks before her family left for Colorado.

“And you must send us an invitation to your wedding. I promise to return and be your bridesmaid at the ceremony.” Augusta grinned at me. She’d spoken loud enough for all to hear.