The Promise of Morning (33 page)

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Authors: Ann Shorey

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BOOK: The Promise of Morning
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Ellie patted the spot next to her. “Sit with me. I’ll tell you all about it.”

Once they’d settled on the step, she said, “You remember when Papa and I found out that my father died last year?”

“And you thought he’d already been dead for a long time,” Jimmy said.

“Yes, I did. Somehow, learning he’d been alive for so many years but never came back for me was harder than knowing of his death.” It felt strange to talk to the twins as though they were adults.

“And the favor?” Johnny stuck to his question like a hound following a scent.

Ellie took a deep breath, remembering her last conversation with Mr. Beldon and the doubts it had raised in her mind. “I asked him if he could find out whether my father had married during those years in Texas, and might have had other children.”

Jimmy looked astonished. “How could Mr. Beldon do that?” “And what difference would it make?” Johnny stood and gazed down at her, his expression skeptical. “Texas is so far away we’d never meet them anyhow.”

Ellie plucked a morning glory and squeezed the sticky flower between her fingers. The crushed blossom left a purple stain on her thumb. The boys were right—Mr. Beldon had no way of finding them. Realization scorched through her mind. He talked a lot, but everything he’d told her was common knowledge.

She looked up at Johnny. “At the time I thought it would make a difference. Your papa was leaving, Aunt Ruby was gone, and Julia . . .” She pulled another flower from the vine. “I felt so alone. It would have been a comfort to know I had brothers and sisters— like you do.”

“We’re never alone.” Jimmy scooted closer. “Papa says God is always with us.”

“Yes. He is.”

Jimmy’s words swept over her. Her obsession about relatives in Texas suddenly seemed foolish. God was with her every moment. And her family was right here. “No more rides with Mr. Beldon?” Johnny raised an eyebrow.

“No.” Then she clapped her hand over her mouth. “Wait. He’s coming next Thursday to take me to Molly’s. I’ll tell him then.”

Ellie poured drained cranberry beans into a crockery pot, then pushed a few pieces of salt pork beneath the surface of the beans. She added boiling water and a drizzle of molasses and slid the covered pot into the oven.

Uncle Arthur thumped into the kitchen on his crutches. “Baked beans? One of my favorite suppers.”

“Good thing.” She smiled at him. “We’ve had them quite often lately.”

He leaned on one crutch and drew a chair away from the table. The forced inactivity since his fall left her normally robust uncle pale. The skin on his cheeks sagged and the corners of his mouth drooped. “Near forgot to tell you. I had Doc ask Marcus Beldon to call this afternoon.”

“What! Why?”

Uncle Arthur took a deep breath and released it in a noisy sigh. “Since I can’t get to Springfield I’m planning for him to write up papers to counter your aunt’s divorce petition.” He tugged at his beard. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

Ellie didn’t know which worried her more at the moment— her uncle and aunt divorcing, or Mr. Beldon’s imminent arrival. “Can’t you wait? Maybe she’ll change her mind.”

“And maybe she won’t.” He pushed to his feet. “Anyways, don’t fuss yourself over having a caller. We’ll set in the parlor and not be in your way.”

Ellie watched him crutch down the hallway and open the parlor door. She wished she could turn the clock back so none of this would have happened. Aloud, she repeated Matthew’s response when she’d said something similar to him. “A stream doesn’t run backwards and neither will our lives.”

She walked to the open back door and leaned against the frame. “Oh, Matthew, it’s been a month. Where are you?” A column of dust rose beyond the creek. She held her breath, waiting for the rider to appear.

Her shoulders slumped when Mr. Beldon’s carriage rolled into view. She turned away and quickly scanned the cornfield for her sons. They’d be upset if they saw him arrive, but with the corn so high perhaps they wouldn’t notice. This would be her opportunity to tell him not to come for her next Thursday. Her heart sank a little at the thought. The honeycomb quilt was so close to completion. After working on it over the past months, Ellie wanted to be there to help stitch the binding when it came off the frame. But not at the cost of hurting her family.

She ducked back into the kitchen, not wanting Mr. Beldon to think she’d been awaiting his arrival. Ellie blushed to think of her misplaced trust in the man.

When she heard steps on the front porch, she poked her head into the parlor. Arthur sat in one of the chairs near the cold hearth, the envelope containing the divorce notice clutched in his hand.

“Mr. Beldon’s here,” she said.

“I’m ready for him.”

When she opened the door, a smile crinkled Mr. Beldon’s eyes. “How delightful to see you, Mrs. Craig.” He held his hat over his heart. “Your presence makes the day even brighter.”

Ellie bit her lip and surveyed his face. Drops of perspiration beaded his forehead. Although he was as well-groomed as ever, he looked slick rather than suave. She stepped back and held her hand toward the open parlor door. “My uncle is expecting you.” She kept her tone brisk.

Mr. Beldon blinked. “Thank you.” She caught a whiff of sweat when he crossed the hallway.

“Come on in,” Uncle Arthur called. “Forgive me for not getting up.”

“Quite all right—”

Ellie closed the parlor door and stepped across the hall into the sitting room. The bass murmur of the men’s voices followed her as she took her seat in a low chair under the open window. She lifted one of her old aprons from her sewing box and settled back, hoping for a quiet half hour to finish altering the garment to fit Maria. The hem had already been turned up and basted. All she needed to do was stitch across the fold. Ellie threaded a needle and half listened to the sound of crows squabbling with each other in the willows while she sewed.

Her mind locked on the promise she’d made her sons earlier in the day. Hands shaking, she realized how far she’d wandered down a forbidden path.
Oh Lord, forgive me. Help me undo the
harm I’ve done.
She tugged at the basting thread to remove it, but it held fast. Ellie anchored her needle to one side and pulled harder at the basting. The thread snapped.

Uncle Arthur’s raised voice carried into the sitting room. “Adultery and desertion. You call it a ‘cross bill’?”

Mr. Beldon’s voice rumbled an indistinct reply.

“Write it all down on your paper,” Uncle Arthur roared. “Every bit. And put down that she will have to pay the costs too.”

Mr. Beldon said something else that apparently calmed her uncle, because his voice dropped and she couldn’t hear the rest of the conversation. After several minutes, their visitor stepped into the hall.

Ellie dropped her sewing and hurried toward him. “Mr. Beldon, may I have a word with you before you leave?”

He reached for the latch on the front door. “It will have to wait. I’m rather pressed for time right now.” He shifted his writing case to his left hand and stepped across the threshold. “A group of townspeople have asked to meet with me this evening and I need to prepare. I’ll see you Thursday.” The door banged shut.

When she turned away, she saw the twins standing in the kitchen watching her, disappointment on their faces.

26

Matthew lifted Graciana’s bundle and took her hand. The child’s small palm was dwarfed within his own large one. “You can’t stay here. It’s getting late.”

She nodded, clutched her rag doll, and allowed him to lead her from the dock. His heart ached at the trust in her eyes. Where could he take her so she’d be safe? His mind retraced his journey through Oakport, trying to remember where he’d seen a rooming house.

When they reached Samson, she slid her hand from Matthew’s and reached up to stroke the horse’s shoulder. “He’s very beautiful.” Samson turned his head toward her and nuzzled her neck. Graciana smiled, revealing a row of even, white teeth. “Horses like me.”

“I can see that.” Matthew stuffed her bundle in one of his saddlebags. “Want to ride him?”

She bobbed her head, still smiling. He put his hands under her arms and lifted her onto the saddle. Graciana’s blue dress floated down around the saddle horn and her bare feet stuck almost straight out on both sides of the animal. Matthew swung up behind her, tucking his right arm around her waist to hold her in place. She smelled like the dust of the road, and under that he detected the faint aroma of lavender. Her dress wasn’t any dirtier than could be accounted for by her journey. Someone had taken good care of the child. “We’re going to find a place for you to stay. Are you hungry?”

“Yes, sir.” Her voice trembled. “You’re not going to leave me, are you?”

Matthew’s mind raced. How could he keep her with him? Surely she had family somewhere. “Tell me again where your Aunt Polly was going with you.”

“I don’t know the name of it.” Her voice choked on a sob. “Aunt Polly had papers, but those men took her anyway. She said ‘hide,’ so I did.”

Matthew hugged her to him. “Don’t cry. You’re safe now.” He wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb. “I won’t leave you.” He tipped his head back and stared at the twilight sky, wondering how many more surprises the Lord had in store. Samson clopped along the road through Oakport. Matthew held the reins with his left hand and scanned buildings for a sign indicating a place to stop for the night. He needed time to think before heading north.

Matthew sat in the kitchen of Mrs. Singer’s rooming house. Water splashed in a tub on the other side of a fan-style screen as the landlady scrubbed travel grime from Graciana’s skin.

“Sir, are you there?” Graciana called, her voice anxious.

“I’m right here.”

The water sluiced. “Hold still, child. We’ll be finished soon.” Mrs. Singer sounded impatient. After a few minutes she led Graciana, wearing a faded blue nightdress, around the screen.

As soon as Graciana spotted Matthew, she pattered to him and grabbed his hand. “You did wait.”

How many times had she been left alone? He hoisted her onto his knee. “I promised, didn’t I?”

“Yes, sir.” Graciana’s damp hair hung below her shoulder blades. Her pointed face shone. “But I was afraid you’d be gone.”

“Nonsense.” Mrs. Singer tucked a wisp of graying hair into the severe bun she wore at the back of her head. “He’s a preacher. Of course he’d keep his promise.” The screen squeaked when she folded it flat.

Matthew avoided the woman’s eyes. He didn’t deserve credit for keeping promises. He’d promised to pastor the church in Beldon Grove, and here he was in Oakport. He squeezed Graciana’s hand. “Mrs. Singer made you a nice bed upstairs next to mine. Let’s get you settled.”

The child slid to the floor, still clutching his hand, and walked up the stairs beside him. The narrow bedroom was just large enough to hold a single bed and a cot. A washstand with a pitcher and bowl stood at one end and a candle burned in a wall sconce.

“Here we are.” Matthew forced himself to sound cheery. “See, Mrs. Singer put your doll on the pillow for you.” He turned back the gray blanket on the cot and patted the threadbare sheet. “Climb in. I’m going outside for a few minutes to check on Samson.”

Suspicion clouded her eyes. “You’ll come back?”

“I promise.” The word echoed in his head.
A promise is forever.
He’d taught that to his children.

When he reached the foot of the stairs, Mrs. Singer awaited him. Concern wrinkled the skin around her pouchy gray eyes. “That poor little mite has seen her share of grief, I’d say.”

“Did she talk to you while I was stabling my horse?”

Mrs. Singer nodded.

“What did she tell you? I haven’t wanted to press too hard for fear she’d be afraid of me.”

She turned and led the way to the sitting room, closing the door behind them. Folding her arms over an ample bosom, she looked Matthew up and down. “She tell you her ma’s dead and her pa died this past winter?”

“Yes.”

“She say anything about their neighbors helping out?”

He frowned. “No. She said her Aunt Polly brought her here. Apparently her aunt had papers directing her to Graciana’s family, but the woman was abducted?”

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