Where the Heart Leads (27 page)
She raised her chin. “I’ll not believe it until I hear it myself from his lips.”
Thomas helped Nadine from the carriage, secured the door, and called, “Thank you, Clarence.”
Clarence chirruped to the horse, and the carriage rolled away from the curb and around the corner, while Thomas tucked Nadine’s hand into the bend of his elbow and they ambled slowly together along the winding rock pathway that led to the house.
He lifted his face to the sun, which hovered directly overhead. Although it was late October, the day was warm with a balmy breeze. Giving Nadine’s hand a pat, he suggested, “Maybe we should take a walk after dinner. It won’t be long now, and cold weather will keep you inside.”
Nadine sighed. “Yes, I know. How I abhor the cold, damp months of winter. Yet without them, we would probably not appreciate the warmth of spring.” She chuckled softly. “But then, I suppose that’s the beauty of any hardship—it brings greater appreciation for the pleasant times.”
Thomas agreed. He had a greater appreciation for worship and Bible-reading after his brief time of avoidance, and he felt certain his period of straying would strengthen his resolve to stay in step with God from now on. He unlocked Nadine’s door and ushered her through. Before he pulled it closed behind him, however, the clatter of horse’s hooves captured his attention. Who was coming down the street at such a reckless pace?
He turned to look, and to his surprise the Severt carriage stopped in front of Nadine’s house. The driver hopped down and reached into the back. Thomas’s breath caught when Daphne emerged from the carriage.
“What is she doing here?” Nadine sounded more puzzled than annoyed. “Did you invite her?”
His mouth too dry to allow speech, Thomas shook his head in response. They stood together and watched Daphne advance slowly up the pathway toward the house. How beautiful she looked in a matching bonnet and gown as boldly russet as an oak leaf before its tumbling fall to the ground. The closer she came, the harder it became for Thomas to breathe, as if his collar shrunk with each hesitant step of her slippered feet on the paving stones. By the time she stood before him with her hand held out in greeting, his breath came in little spurts that pumped his chest up and down.
Nadine touched his arm, and he jumped, sucking in a lungful of air. Heat rose from his neck, but the start seemed to restore him to normalcy. He took Daphne’s slim, gloved hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“Daphne.”
“Thomas.” Her voice quavered, her dark eyes shimmering.
They stood dumbly, looking at one another without moving. A thousand unspoken questions paraded through Thomas’s mind as he waited for her to explain her presence, but she stood mute, her gaze pinned to his. The light breeze tossed the tail of one satin bonnet ribbon over her shoulder, and Thomas automatically reached for it. But when Nadine cleared her throat, he dropped his hand and stepped back.
“Miss Severt,” Nadine said, shifting slightly to stand in front of Thomas, “we hadn’t planned for guests today; however, if you would care to come in, Mildred can quickly set another plate at the table.”
Thomas gulped. Etiquette required the invitation, but how could he sit at the dinner table with Daphne and still keep his resolve to distance himself from her?
Nadine continued. “Your driver is welcome to join Clarence and Mildred in the kitchen, as well.”
Daphne hid her hands in the folds of her gown. “I-I appreciate your kind invitation, ma’am, but I didn’t intend to intrude upon a meal.” She shifted self-consciously. “Truthfully, I did not realize the time. I really only wanted to see . . .” She swiveled her head to briefly glance at Thomas.
“Ah. Well.” Nadine delicately cleared her throat once. “Then I shall ask Mildred to delay placing our dinner on the table and allow you a . . . moment or two.” Subtle emphasis on the final words let Thomas know her patience would end shortly.
Thomas squeezed Nadine’s elbow and whispered, “I’ll just be a few minutes.” He then stepped past her into the yard and gestured to the Common across the street. “Do you want to sit in the shade, Miss Severt?”
Daphne’s brows pinched briefly, as if she experienced a stab of pain, but then she smiled and gave an eager nod. However, she didn’t take his arm, as had become her habit during their time of courtship, and she sat well on one side of the carved bench with her skirts tucked close, leaving him more than enough room.
Thomas sat with his hands cupped over his knees and stared straight ahead. He disliked feeling uncomfortable in her presence, but he realized if he allowed himself to relax, he would too easily slip back into his past feelings for her. So he held himself aloof, distancing himself emotionally while a part of him longed to embrace her.
After several tense minutes of silence, she finally spoke. “I apologize for interrupting your dinner, but I could not wait one more minute to see you.” Tears winked in her eyes. “When you said good-bye to me at the campaign headquarters, I couldn’t imagine you truly meant
forever
.”
Seeing the proof of her distress made his heart ache with regret. He would honor God, but he wished it didn’t mean pain for Daphne. “I’m sorry I was terse with you that day. But . . . realities . . . became clear, and I knew there was no future for us. I thought it was best to end things quickly.”
The tears that quivered on her lashes spilled, and it took all of Thomas’s control not to wrap her in his arms.
“Best for you, perhaps, but not for me.” Daphne whisked her fingers over her cheeks, removing the trails of tears. “Thomas, my father’s beliefs needn’t come between us. He . . . he speaks harshly, but he would never cast me out.” Did the tremble in her voice reflect uncertainty at her statement, or was it caused by emotion? “I am certain we could—”
“No, Daphne.” Thomas held up one hand. “My decision to sever our relationship goes well beyond your father’s beliefs.” He angled his body into the corner of the bench to face her. Drawing in a deep breath, he prayed silently for guidance. “Do you remember the day I drove out to see you because my friend’s mother passed away?”
Daphne looked remorseful. “Yes. I behaved badly. I couldn’t bear the thought of you befriending another woman.”
“You couldn’t bear having anyone else take my attention,” he corrected gently. He waited for her nod of agreement before continuing. “I should have realized the problem then, but I was too blinded by”—he gripped his knees so hard he would probably find bruises later—“your beauty. I wanted to please you, so I told you nothing else would come before you. I was wrong to tell you that. I was wrong to put you first.”
Daphne shook her head slowly, the ribbons beneath her chin swaying with the movement. “But, Thomas, I put you first because I love you. D-don’t you . . . love me?”
A lump of sorrow filled Thomas’s throat. Yes, he loved her. As much as he’d prayed to be released, love for her still sent his heart tumbling in his chest.
Lord, help me!
He pinched his lips together, seeking an appropriate answer, and finally managed a hoarse reply. “Yes, Daphne. I do love you.”
A smile broke out across her face. She put her hand over his.
“Well, then—”
“But I love the Lord more.”
Daphne’s brow crunched, “I don’t understand.”
“I know you don’t.” He leaned his head back, looking at the sky through the leafless tree branches. “You and I . . . we grew up in two different worlds, Daphne.”
“Then help me understand.”
He didn’t look at her, but her imploring tone roused his sympathy. “My pa raised me to serve God first, but I pushed Him aside and put you first. I knew I was wrong—my conscience tried to tell me—but I ignored it until the day I read your father’s editorial about Watson. Then I couldn’t ignore it anymore.”
A small huff of displeasure left her lips. “Thomas, you make too much of Father’s opinion about social status. It’s a common attitude. It needn’t create a barrier between us.”
“But it isn’t just your father’s opinion! It’s yours, too.” Turning to look at her, Thomas frowned. “You’re wrong, Daphne. You’re wrong in thinking one man is more important than another because of his skin color or how much money he has. In God’s eyes, all men are equal, and it’s through His eyes we need to view one another.”
She stared at him as if seeing him for the first time. “Why did you never mention God to me before now?”
Guilt nearly buckled Thomas. Why hadn’t he spoken of God to Daphne? He thought of his years in high school and college, the countless opportunities that had slipped by to share his faith, opportunities he disregarded in lieu of being accepted by his classmates. Oh, his friends all knew he attended services with Nadine, but he allowed them to assume he did it for her, not for any heartfelt desire of his own to be in church. How he must have grieved his heavenly Father by his deliberate silence.
Father, forgive me.
His chin quivered, but he set his jaw, bringing his emotions under control. “I have no excuse. I should have spoken of God to you long ago, Daphne. I’m sorry.”
Daphne rose slowly, as though her joints resisted movement. She stood beside the bench, her hands clasped, her eyes wide and brimming with tears. “But you
do
love me?”
Even though he knew it wasn’t beneficial for either of them to reiterate the fact, he offered one slow nod.
“Yet you will allow God to keep us apart?”
He drew a long breath and released it, praying for the strength to do the right thing. “Yes, Daphne. I can’t let my love for you take precedence over my love for God. I ignored what my father taught me, what I accepted as truth for myself when I was still a little boy, but I
will not
continue that pathway. The first commandment requires that nothing else, including an earthly relationship, come before God. I
can’t
put you first . . .” His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. “And you will never be happy in second place.”
Thomas wondered if his words would cause her to dissolve into tears. But suddenly she jerked her shoulders back and raised her chin, fixing him with a look of betrayal. “I do not understand your sort of love—a love that can be relegated to second place. But you’re right. All my life, I’ve taken second place . . . to Harry or to my father’s work. I thought you—I thought you were different from Father. I see I was wrong. So you’re right. We . . . we’re better off apart. Good-bye, T-Thomas.”
A sob split his name, and Thomas jumped to his feet. But she dashed past him, crossed the street without pausing to look for traffic, and climbed into her carriage unaided. Thomas darted to the curb, but her driver slapped the reins onto the horse’s back and the carriage lurched away.
U
NWILLING
TO RETURN HOME
immediately, Daphne instructed the driver to take a lengthy drive around town. He took her past the Botanical Gardens, now a dismal place with all the flowers trimmed and the trees nearly bare. When she glimpsed the swan boats, sitting in a lonely row along the pond’s edge, she burst into tears. The memory of the day she and Thomas drifted gently along, his knee pressed against hers, her hand snug in the bend of his arm—the day she realized she had fallen in love—now taunted her. She’d trusted him with her heart, and he had plucked it out and thrown it back in her face, all because he was compelled to put his God first.
Finally, she leaned forward and choked out, “Take me home. At once!” Then she huddled in the corner of the carriage and covered her face with her hands while tears continued to roll. Had she truly believed seeing Thomas again would make her feel better? His ideas were so far away from the ideals with which she had been raised. Men, regardless of their station in life, equal to one another? Pure nonsense, Father would say—and she had to admit, in this case, Father was right. Why, anyone with sense knew that people were different. The colored lived one way, the poor another, and the rich yet another. Making them all equal would completely upset the balance of society. Clearly, someone had to take charge, and it only made sense that those with the most power and education should rule.
She stared out the open side of the barouche, frowning as she replayed more of her conversation with Thomas. As for placing God before anything or anyone else, Father proclaimed every man must look to himself first in order to be successful. How many times had she heard him lecture Harry, “Trust no one but yourself, son, and then you won’t be disappointed.” Well, today she had learned the truth of his statement. She’d trusted Thomas, and now she must bear the crushing weight of disappointment.
“Why? Why is God so important to Thomas that he would cast aside my love?” she asked aloud. The need to understand overwhelmed her. But how to find the answer? She couldn’t ask Father—he would know she was asking because of Thomas. Neither Harry nor Mother would be any more knowledgeable than she was. The desire for answers made her lean forward and tap the driver on his shoulder.
“Yes, miss?” he called without turning around.
“Do you know where one would find information concerning God?”
He glanced briefly over his shoulder, his eyebrows nearly disappearing beneath the brim of his cap. “Why, yes, miss. In His holy book, the Bible.”
Daphne leaned back, tapping her lips with her fingers. A Bible . . . Father had countless books lining the shelves in the library at home. He prided himself on the extensive collection. Could there be a Bible somewhere in that monstrous room?
Belinda whispered, “Sleep well, Malinda,” and closed the door. She peeked into the older girls’ room across the hallway from the room Malinda shared with little Lena, and gave a gentle reminder. “Girls, please stay quiet so Lena and Malinda can nap.”
The girls, sitting cross-legged in the middle of their floor, looked up from their scattered paper dolls. “We’ll be quiet,” Abby promised, and Gussie bobbed her head in agreement.
With a smile, Belinda closed their door and crept downstairs. Summer and Peter sat side by side on the quilt-draped bench in the small front room, sharing a recent copy of the
Mennonite Review
. They looked so content together, Belinda hated to intrude, but she couldn’t get to her small room without passing through the parlor. She tried to tiptoe around the corner unnoticed, but Summer set the periodical aside and called her name.
