Where Trust Lies (9781441265364) (19 page)

“What about you?” she tried to tease him. “What makes you difficult to endure?”

“Well, that's direct.” Beth could hear the sound of a cringe in his voice. “Goodness, I'd hate for you to lay it all out for your mother in so many words, but, yes, of course I have my faults.”

“Oh, Jarrick, I'm not asking for Mother's sake. I have no intention of reporting anything like that back to her—and, honestly, you don't even have to answer at all if you'd rather not. Maybe it's just too difficult a question.”

A pause. “No, I think it's fair. And you can be sure that Lester Carothers—that's the older gentleman I've been meeting with from church—he doesn't hold back from asking. For one thing, I tend to focus all my energy on just one thing. And maybe that sounds like it might not be so bad. But just ask Philip what happens to everything else when I get too wrapped up in work. He'll tell you that I'm liable to let other things fall by the wayside. And sometimes I'm too hard on people close to me—I probably get that from my father. I tend to expect others to be as uncompromising as I am.”

“Yes, I can see how that might be difficult.” She smiled to herself. While she was missing him so much, those things hardly seemed to be obstacles at all.

He sighed. “Not only that, but there's a rather unhappy incident in my past that kind of hangs a shadow over my hometown for me. It's entirely possible that when you come visit, someone will think they're clever in bringing it up again.”

Beth's heart leaped at the words
when you come
rather than
if you come
. She waited while he gathered his thoughts.

“When I was younger—around thirteen—my friend and I were hired by a neighbor to do some work around his farm. He had a brand-new tractor, one of the first ones in our area. It was a heavy, enormous thing, and he'd paid a small fortune for it. He was going to let one of us drive it while the other one worked alongside him. The truth is, to this day I'm not even really sure what happened. I don't know if somebody was playing a prank on him or what. But the engine ground to a stop right when we fired it up again after lunch, and we found a large chunk of metal jammed into the open gears of that just-bought beast of a machine. It couldn't have gotten there by any natural event. Someone had to have wedged it in on purpose. At any rate, it did a great deal of damage. And then it seemed like the whole community got involved—everybody trying to judge whether it was my friend or me who had done it.

“I was crushed. I expected my mom and dad to stand up for me, because they knew me well enough. I suppose they'd seen me fail enough times too, and that no doubt factored into their reaction. But in the end, I guess they weren't sure they could trust my version of the truth. Of course, the other boy was adamant that he hadn't done it, and the farmer's son backed up his story that he was never out of sight. Whereas I had used the outhouse with no one else around. So my dad ended up paying the bulk of what it cost to make the repairs. Money that, I assure you, as a pastor's family, we did not have to spend like that. Every once in a while somebody at home will bring up that story again—like it's a joke. But it's never funny to me. It's still pretty crushing, even to this day. I hated to see how quickly my reputation could be destroyed. And there are plenty of people in town who have never let me forget it either.”

“People can be so thoughtless—even cruel.” Beth felt sorry for him.

“To this day I keep wondering if I should repay my dad for the repair costs. I want to. It wasn't fair that he had to bear the consequences. And then the other side of the argument kicks in. He said he believed me, but he must have doubted—or at least wasn't sure I was telling the truth since he went ahead and paid the damages. If I paid him back now, it could seem like a guilty conscious was finally getting my attention. I just can't bring myself to forfeit his last shred of faith in me. It may sound like . . . like I'm still a kid, but my parents' trust in me is still important.

“So I guess that's part of the reason I went into law enforcement,” he continued. “I want to be a person who makes sure the truly guilty party is found as quickly as possible—and that the judgment is fair. No scapegoats, no cutting corners on justice. I know I can't be right all the time, but I take it very seriously. And I never want to see the innocent punished.”

Beth shook her head, though she knew he couldn't see it. “That's terrible. I'm so sorry that happened to you.”

“Well, like I said, nobody's history is perfect. None of us goes through life without picking up some scars. But that's a big one for me, and I think God has used it to teach me a lot. So, I suppose this side of heaven, that's the most one can ask for.”

“No,” Beth said gently, “that's not
all
. Because He also brings people into your life who want to share those painful memories, and hopefully will help with the healing. You're not alone, Jarrick.” She closed her eyes and pictured his face before her. “I believe in the man you are.”

A long sigh. “I wish you were here, Beth. I'm afraid that you've become that
one thing
in my life that makes it hard to think of anything else. And I want some evidence of a future together for us—an expectation. I'm doing everything I can to
pursue you, and you're not even here.” He hurried to add, “I'm not trying to rush you, Beth. Just being honest. Is that okay?”

He had never been quite so candid before. Now it was Beth's opportunity to respond. She knew he was waiting, silent until she dared be as bold with her words. Very slowly, she phrased her careful answer. “Jarrick, I'm still accountable to my father. I don't mean that in a dreadful, old-fashioned way, but because he's my guardian and he loves me. I want to honor him as best I can.”

“Of course, Beth. I want that too.”

“I'm well aware of how difficult it would be for my family if I should move away from them—for good.” Her pulse was racing. “But I am confident of God working in my life, directing me. And I know He brought me to Coal Valley for a reason—lots of reasons, in fact. I'm a different person now than I was when I left home last year. More confident in God. More willing to let Him be the leader, the guide in my life. I do trust that He has a plan in this too. And I'm praying that He will reveal it.” Tears flooded her eyes. “But if I speak from my heart, then yes—yes, I'm completely certain I want to share your life. God willing, to be your wife.” Her last words were barely audible through the crackles of the telephone line.

A long pause. She could hear the smile in his voice when he said, “Your answer is so well-structured, so different from the way I think. I've never met anyone at all like you. Somehow just in this conversation you've managed to make me want you even more. I wouldn't have thought that was possible.”

Beth laughed through happy tears. “What a terrible thing to do to one another, with weeks of absence still standing in between us—maybe even longer.”

“You're right. But I'm determined to be patient, though it won't be easy. Every day I miss you more. I keep reminding
myself I must have confidence that you'll be back before too long. Or else maybe I'll just put in an application to come east.”

“No, no, Jarrick—there's no need to force things. God will make His will happen if He's in this. And I do think He probably is. But waiting is still the only true option.” She could feel her cheeks glowing, her heart overflowing with emotion. “I feel as if we're very well-suited to each other, that there's much we can accomplish together since we share a similar mission in life. You need someone who can care for all the untended details while you're out taking up the gauntlet and pursuing your dragons. I would be so honored if I might be your helpmate.”

He exhaled slowly. “It's going to be a
terribly
long summer.”

“Yes,” she echoed, “it is.”

The last words Beth heard before the click of the disconnecting receiver sent her pulse to racing again. “I love you, Beth. Good-bye.”

She set the telephone back in its cradle slowly.
Was there still any hesitation
? How could God
not
be guiding this?
And then she sobered. She wondered how she would respond if God were to lead elsewhere. Could she truly walk away from Jarrick now? She pushed the question aside.

Beth hurried back up to the hotel room she shared with Julie. Her sister was still in the same position, placing the finishing touches on the brightly striped lighthouse she had been painting.
Has she even noticed my absence?

“Julie,” Beth said, breaking the silence at last, “I was finally able to speak with Jarrick.”

“That's nice.” She dabbed her brush in the smear of red on her wooden palette and added more to the stripe.

Beth tried again. “Darling, I said I spoke with Jarrick by telephone just now. Did you hear me, Julie?”

Her sister laid the paint brush down, smiled at her work, and looked up.

“I just spent time with Jarrick by telephone. I was finally able to talk with him.”

“Oh, how nice. Did it go well?”

“Very well.”

One glance at the glow on Beth's cheeks and Julie sprang closer. She was giving Beth her full attention now. “How well? How well did it go?”

“Very, very well.”

Julie reached for Beth's hands and giggled her joy. “I knew it! I knew it!” They threw arms around each other and laughed. “Tell me more,” Julie commanded.

Beth blushed, looked down at her clasped hands. “It seems we're of the same mind.”

“Oh, Bethie, don't be so cryptic. Does he love you or not?”

Beth nodded mutely, and Julie exploded into joyful squeals. “I'm so very happy for you, my dear sister.”

Julie caught sight of their reflection in the hotel room mirror. She turned Beth's attention toward it and whispered, “Look at you! You'll be such a beautiful bride.” Julie's head came to rest against Beth's, their arms still wrapped around each other. Short, tight curls framed Julie's animated face. Beth's own, much more serene, still flushed with joy. For a moment they gazed together at the image of themselves, so very close, so very different.

Then the delight on Julie's reflection waned. “But, Bethie, how can I let you go? I'll miss you too much.” She seemed to ponder for a moment and then smiled again. “I suppose I'll just have to follow you.”

M
ADAME
, I
STRONGLY
INSIST
that we remain together.”

Mrs. Montclair stood her ground. “
Mr.
Lorant
, if the girls' own mothers are comfortable allowing them a short excursion on their own, then I don't see what grounds you have to resist. We are, after all, their
mothers
and
guardians
.”

With equal obstinacy, though more controlled, he replied, “And I, madame, am the guide hired by their
fathers
to keep all of you safe. I was chosen for this position because I have an extensive knowledge of travel in these areas. A knowledge which, I reluctantly must point out, you lack despite your status of motherhood. This trust I have not taken upon myself lightly. I have no intention of shirking that responsibility now.”

“It makes no difference to me how you resolve the issue in your own mind. Regardless of your convictions, I am giving my consent to Victoria that she may go with a group of her peers to this concert in the park. I see nothing wrong with my decision, and thus I shall not be swayed. For heaven's sake, it's just a concert! Victoria has attended any number of them. She'll
hear bagpipes, along with Celtic fiddling, of all things. I'm not going to deny her that experience. It's precisely the kind of thing I had hoped she would encounter on this vacation.”

Beth had not observed Mrs. Montclair quite so ruffled for some time. She kept her face aimed downward toward her plate.

“Priscilla,” Mrs. Montclair said, turning to Mother for support, “what do you say?”

From where she sat next to Mother, Beth could see her gripping her hands together tightly on her lap. “I'm not sure, Edith. Who did you say would be supervising?”

“Three of the ship's employees are attending. They will be with the children every minute—it couldn't be safer.”

“I'm not a child,” Victoria muttered.

Beth glimpsed Julie's face in time to catch her eyes rolling and tried not to smile. It was an entirely inappropriate time for either of them to be amused.

“You may do as you like, Priscilla. As for me, I am allowing Victoria to go along, and that's my final word on the matter.”

Beth could easily feel Mother's tension. The seconds ticked away. Beth had expressed her keen interest in going, while Julie had practically stamped a foot and insisted on the concert. Mrs. Montclair and Mother were expected to attend a business-related luncheon on behalf of their husbands. Beth remembered Father's expression of gratitude that Mother had been willing to step in. Monsieur Laurent had his own appointment, meaning it would be the three youngest at the concert on their own since Margret had bowed out.

Finally Mother asked calmly, “What do you think, Beth? You've traveled on your own.”

Beth stopped eating and looked around the table. She swallowed hard.
Is this a test? Is
Mother truly seeking out my opinion?

“I'm not sure, Mother.” She knew without looking that Julie was desperate for a positive answer. “Father did choose Monsieur Laurent to be our guide,” she began slowly. “On the other hand, we'd be riding on a bus that the ship provides, and we'd only be staying in the park long enough for the concert. I can't imagine what harm we'd face. It couldn't be
very
dangerous.” She nodded slightly. “If it were entirely up to me, I'd say yes. And I would step in as chaperone. I suppose that means chaperoning myself,” she added with a little smile, hoping to lighten the moment.

“I see,” conceded their guide without a return smile. “Very well.” He wiped his mouth, folded his napkin and laid it beside his plate, which still held most of his breakfast. “Then I shall release you to be accountable for yourselves.” He rose and strode away.

“Aha!” Mrs. Montclair exclaimed. “We have bested him at last.”

“Oh, Edith! That was not the intention.” Mother's eyes followed the man from the room. “And I'm somewhat concerned about the consequences—”

“That we get to go to the concert, of course,” Julie interrupted brightly. She dropped her napkin over what remained on her own plate. “I'm going to tell Penny and Jan.”

The broad, grassy knoll in the city park was filled with concert-goers sprawled out on blankets, sitting on folding chairs, or walking and chatting in small groups. Beth and Victoria threaded their way through the crowd to find a spot large enough to spread a blanket, Julie following some distance behind with her friends.

At the first distinct sound of the bagpipes, Beth was mesmer
ized. She had seen any number of instruments in concert, but nothing had prepared her for this unique device—like some sort of creature tucked under an arm and squeezed mercilessly until it produced its mournful call. She closed her eyes and lost herself in the astonishing, magnificent sounds.

When the piece came to an end and applause erupted, Beth looked around. Victoria was seated beside her, but Julie was not in sight.

Beth motioned with her hand. “Where is Julie, Victoria?”

“She never sat down here—went off with her friends,” she said loudly above the sound of the applause.

“Where?”

“Don't know. I heard Jannis say they should move closer to the platform.”

“What?” Beth strained to understand the girl's reply.

“
They're sitting
closer!
”

People were settling back into their places, and Beth quickly scanned around. She stood to look more carefully, reminding herself that Julie was an adult and would never venture beyond the crowd at the concert.

The music began again, and a soloist took his place at the center of the bandstand for a lovely ballad that Beth had heard before. She was able to join with the audience in singing the chorus. “‘Oh, ye'll take the high road, and I'll take the low road, and I'll get to Scotland a'fore ye. But me and my true love will never meet again on the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomond.'” Beth had not realized that it was a sorrowful song—of love spoiled by discord. She listened more closely to the words of each verse before joining again in the chorus.

Once the last notes of the song died away, hearty applause rolled again across the park. The soloist waved and bowed to the appreciative audience as he left the stage, and the man with
his bagpipes reentered from the other side with a quartet of violins. Beth decided she would wait to find Julie until after the next piece. She cast a glance toward Victoria, round-eyed with delight at a new violin style. Beth was certain she would be attempting to emulate it in her room come evening.

It was a shock to Beth when the last performance was announced. It was well past time for her to find her sister. “Victoria, I'm going to look for Julie.”

“It's almost over. She'll come back then.”

“Once the crowd all gets up at the same time, we'll never find each other.”

“I suppose,” the girl grumbled. “I'll go with you.”

They began searching for a path among the spectators, unable to call out Julie's name but often enduring irritated demands to “Sit down!” “Out the way!” “Move!”

At last Victoria waved for Beth's attention. Julie was standing beside her, a few yards away. Beth's relief filled her whole being. The three picked their way back to the blanket. “I don't know why you're so worried,” Julie grumbled. “It's not as if I didn't know where to meet the bus, or that the girls and Nick weren't going to the very same place.”

“Nick was with you?”

“Sure, he's kind of sweet on me, I think.” Julie chuckled to herself. “He's my little shipboard romance.”

Beth grabbed hold of her sister's shoulder. “That is not funny, Julie. You're not encouraging him, are you?”

“Of course not, Bethie. Well, maybe a little. But it's all in fun, I promise.”

“Julie, no. It's not something to joke about. If Father were here, you wouldn't be so cavalier about it. You know he wouldn't approve.”

Julie nodded slowly. “You're right—as always.” She gave
one of her eloquent shrugs. “But good gracious, I never really mean anything by it anyway. And neither does Nick. He's just a big tease.”

During their bus trip back to the hotel, Beth felt subdued and regretful in a whirl of
what-if
s. Julie indeed was safe, but Beth couldn't help remembering her “chaperone” promise and how distinctly she had failed. It was such a difficult line to walk, keeping her sister close without seeming to smother her.

At dinner, Monsieur Laurent appeared as willing as ever to participate in the conversation, yet Beth sensed a new reserve in his demeanor. She felt rather shy under the gaze of his clear blue eyes, as if they were both aware that trust had been broken. Yet Beth couldn't find herself sorry they had attended the concert—a truly marvelous experience with delightful music.
And
without any negative results,
she thought, but had to add,
though there could have been.

“Monsieur Laurent, what can we expect for tomorrow?” Mother asked.

He returned an easy smile. “We'll need to board early. Our ship departs at ten o'clock, and we should be at the docks by half past eight. I've arranged for breakfast in your rooms tomorrow morning in order to save time.”

“That's very considerate, monsieur. Thank you.”

“You're quite welcome, Mrs. Thatcher.”

After the meal, Monsieur Laurent approached Beth with a smile. She hesitated about what to say, still feeling a sense of having disappointed him, of being lax in her avowed responsibilities. His hand reached inside his jacket and withdrew an envelope. “You've received another letter, Miss Thatcher.”

“Oh. Thank you, monsieur,” she said, feeling like she could
now turn the page on her negligence. As she took delivery, he winked and turned away, whistling a familiar tune. Her mind added the accompanying words,
“Ye'll take
the high road, and I'll take the low road
 . . .”

Beth stopped with a little gasp.
The Scottish ballad
sung in the park—was Monsieur Laurent at the concert
after all? Did he cancel his appointment to be there
for his assigned duties?
And is it possible he observed
Julie's long absence?