The Promise of Morning (10 page)

Yesterday’s sermon had hit on the evils of make-believe, and stage plays in particular. Matthew had thrown in references to the temptations performers placed in the path of vulnerable young people
.
She leaned forward in the chair and contemplated his possible reaction
.
Was the play really all that important to him? Or had he got himself out on a limb and was too stubborn to back down? She wished she knew.

Ellie paced to the window and stared out, arms folded across her chest, while the twins each dipped a cup of water from the crock next to the wall. Waiting for Matthew’s response was like seeing clouds on the horizon. A storm was coming—she just didn’t know how serious it would be.

Jimmy pulled a chair out from the table and straddled it, facing her. “Papa told us to help him with the corn soon’s we got home. D’you think we should tell him?”

Ellie shrugged. “I don’t see why not. He’ll hear about it sooner or later.”

After the boys bolted down slices of bread and honey and finished their water, they loped off to the cornfield with more eagerness than they might normally show. Ellie returned to the stove, wondering what could have motivated Molly and Karl to allow Franklin to become a part of a production that Matthew so vehemently opposed.

When he came inside for supper, his eyes snapped with anger. “The twins told me about Franklin. How could Karl and Molly do that to me?”

Ellie turned. “To you? I doubt you entered into it. This must be something Franklin wanted. They have to consider their children first.”

“Since when do we do what our children want? We’re the parents.” His damp hair stood out from his scalp.

“Matthew, calm down.”

“I am calm.” He combed his hair back with his fingertips, then slid his chair away from the table and sat.

The children took their seats, eyeing their parents. Ellie placed a bowl of rabbit stew on the table, then thumped a pan of cornbread in front of Matthew.

“Will you say grace?”

While Ellie cleared the plates, Spenglers’ buggy rolled to a stop behind the house.

Maria ran to the door and flung it open. “Did you bring Lily?”

Molly and Karl climbed the steps to the porch. “Not this time,” Karl said. He poked his head inside the door and looked at Matthew. “I expect I need to throw my hat in first.”

“Won’t be necessary. You’re welcome.” His voice sounded gruff.

Ellie glanced from one man to the other. Matthew’s jaw was set in a tight line and Karl looked equally determined.

“Bedtime, Maria.” She watched while her daughter dawdled her way up the stairs and then turned back to their guests. “Do sit down, please. There’s coffee left from supper if you want some.”

Karl shook his head. “Not now. Thanks.”

Matthew waited in silence until they were settled, then focused an outraged glare on Molly. “Of all people in Beldon Grove, how could you, my own sister, allow your son to be a part of this . . .” He grappled for a word. “This offense in God’s sight.”

Karl sat beside his wife, silent but obviously ready to speak up if she wanted him to.

Molly leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table. “First of all, I don’t agree with you about this play being an offense. I’ve listened to you, and I’ve listened to Mr. Wolcott, and find I agree with him.” She clasped her hands together. “Shakespeare is educational. They teach his works in colleges, Mr. Wolcott says.”

A muscle twitched at the corner of Matthew’s mouth. “By the time a young man is in college, he knows right from wrong. Franklin is, what? Fourteen? Hardly old enough—”

“We had to do something. He’s been talking of running off to fight alongside James.”

Ellie gasped. “Franklin going to war! God forbid.”

“I agree,” Karl said. “That’s why we said yes when he asked if he could take this stagehand job.” He tucked an arm around Molly’s waist. “He’ll unload wagons and drag props around until he’s worn out, and maybe it will help him settle down.”

Molly reached across the table and grasped Matthew’s hand. “I’m sorry. I know how strongly you feel about this, but we’re talking about
my
son. I’ll do anything to keep him at home.”

“We hoped you wouldn’t take it too hard,” Karl said, “seeing as Aunt Ruby is already involved.”

Matthew jerked as though he’d been struck. “Ruby?” He turned to Ellie. “Did you know about this?”

Hand to her throat, Ellie shook her head. “She hasn’t said a word to me.” She frowned, recalling. “But I haven’t seen much of her lately, either.”

“How involved?” Matthew asked Karl.

“She’s the seamstress. Ben says she’s been at the hotel every afternoon since the notice went up.”

9

After Molly and Karl left, Matthew strode to the edge of the cornfield. He leaned on the top rail of the fence and inhaled the earthy fragrance of freshly turned soil. Ordinarily he took pleasure in evening trips to survey his newly planted crops, but tonight he saw the furrows through a haze of dismay. His family acted as though it was his reaction they needed to worry about. He was just the messenger. Lifting his eyes to the indigo sky, he focused on the evening star. One star among thousands. He’d never felt more alone.

In better times, he’d have taken his worries to Ellie. She’d listen, and whether or not she offered advice, talking it out would have helped him. Matthew shook his head. Over the past month, he’d avoided broaching any subject that would cause her distress.

Several days after Molly’s visit, Matthew sat at the kitchen table studying for Sunday’s sermon while Ellie worked in the sitting room sewing Maria’s dress. A plum-colored phaeton clipped past the window on its way to the front door. He recognized Beldon’s vehicle. No one else drove a carriage that grand.

Matthew jumped to his feet, tucking his loose-fitting linen shirt into his waistband. The thought crossed his mind to dash upstairs and change from his stretched-out black felt slippers into his Sunday boots, but he stopped himself. If it were Ben at the door, he wouldn’t worry about his slippers. Why shine himself up for Mr. Beldon?

Ellie set her sewing aside and joined him at the door. Her blonde hair was braided and drawn back in a neat circle at the nape of her neck. A crisp white apron covered her black dress. With pride, he put an arm around her shoulders and opened the door at the first knock.

“Reverend.” Marcus Beldon swept his hat from his head with a flourish. “And Mrs. Craig.” He bowed in her direction. “I trust I’m not intruding. I wanted to exercise my team, and found myself out in your part of the county.”

“We’re pleased you stopped by.” Matthew opened the door to the parlor and gestured toward twin upholstered settees positioned at either side of the cold hearth. “Please come in and rest yourself.”

He waited for Beldon to be seated, then sat facing their caller. Ellie stood behind him. “Would you like some tea?” She directed her question toward Marcus Beldon.

“No, thank you. Anything from your lovely hands would be a delight, but I’ll only be staying a short while.”

Matthew glanced up to see a flush bloom on Ellie’s cheeks at the man’s flattering tone. “I notice Mrs. Beldon isn’t with you.”

“Unfortunately, she suffers from a sick headache and asked that I go out without her.” The settee creaked as he shifted his weight. “She sends her regards.” He paused, moistening his full lips with the tip of his tongue. “We are both extremely sorry for the loss of your beautiful child.”

Matthew swallowed hard. The mention of Julia brought tears to his eyes, which he fought to conceal. He darted another glance at Ellie.

Her eyes clouded. “Thank you. She
was
beautiful, and such a joy to me.”

Beldon studied Matthew and then looked back at Ellie. “I understand this is the fourth time the Lord has called one of your children home.” His features melted in sympathy. “What a tragedy for you.”

Matthew stood and moved next to his wife, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Yes, it is tragic. But we must let the Lord do what seems good in his eyes.” He cringed inwardly.
That sounded so
pompous!

Ellie tipped her head and scowled at him. At the same time, she shrugged her shoulder free of his grip. “It’s kind of you to call,” she said. “I’m sure the two of you have more to discuss than our personal losses.” She nodded at their guest. “If you’ll excuse me?”

He rose and bowed in her direction. “Certainly. Always a pleasure, Mrs. Craig.”

After Ellie left the room, Matthew studied Beldon for a moment, uncertain how to proceed.

His guest saved him the trouble. “From last Sunday’s sermon, I gather you’re still opposed to culture in our little community?”

Matthew bristled. “If you call consorting with stage performers ‘culture,’ then yes, I am. I’m concerned that our young people will be led into a life of corruption, or worse.”

“That’s hardly likely to happen. My father—”

“Your father’s not here. You are. Please speak for yourself.”

Still standing, both men took a few steps from side to side like prizefighters facing off. Beldon’s immaculately pressed suit and dove-gray silk waistcoat gleamed in the soft light that flowed through the uncurtained windows. He focused his dark-lashed eyes directly on Matthew.

“Very well then. I’m concerned that you are not the person to be leading a congregation. In addition to your misguided attempt to deny Beldon Grove the opportunity to see a classic Shakespeare performance, I noticed at church last week that you spent considerable time greeting your flock personally.” He raised one eyebrow. “Are you sure that’s proper? In the churches we attended in Virginia, the common people kept a respectful distance between themselves and men of the cloth. How can you expect to influence anyone to your way of thinking if you’re no different than they are?”

Matthew bit the inside of his lip. “It’s not my way of thinking, it’s the Lord’s way.” He stalked to the front door and held it open. “I’m sorry you don’t approve of how I treat my parishioners. What is suitable in the eastern states doesn’t always travel well.”

“Propriety always travels well, Reverend. You’d best keep that in mind.”

After Beldon left, Matthew strode back to his papers and Bible on the kitchen table and flung himself into a chair. He stared at the page spread open before him. A red haze of anger blurred the printed words. He placed his elbows on the tabletop and buried his face in his hands, wondering what Marcus Beldon could possibly have against him.

He startled when Ellie spoke from the doorway.

“Wasn’t it nice of Mr. Beldon to take time from his law practice to pay a condolence call?” She walked over to the worktable and poured cream from the morning’s milking into a crock. “He’s such a gentleman.”

A faint smile rested on her lips.

Ellie leaned across the top of the cookstove and brushed blacking onto the cold surface as though she could scrub away the argument she’d had with Matthew the previous night. Each stroke of the brush protested his refusal to listen to her plea for help. She stopped polishing and stood motionless, trying to decide how to proceed.

Across the room, Aunt Ruby sat at the kitchen table with a swath of crimson fabric draped over her knees. As she plied a needle through the cloth she said, “Guess what I heard at the hotel yesterday?”