Where Trust Lies (9781441265364) (2 page)

Margret was nodding with an affirming smile. Mother hurried on, “Ships are not at all the cumbersome, unsuitable transports they once were—now very modern and comfortable, equipped with every convenience. I've heard they even hold indoor swimming pools, if you can imagine. Many of our friends have found a cruise to be an excellent way to travel.”

“New York City!” Julie burst out. “Just think of it!”

Beth felt her heart pounding and swallowed hard. “And when are you—when is the planned departure?”

A moment of silence hung awkwardly around them. The other three exchanged glances, then turned back to Beth. Mother finally said slowly, “The plan is that we
—
all of us—will leave for Quebec City this coming Monday. In fact, we've agreed to travel with Mrs. Montclair and her daughter Victoria. We've been planning this for several weeks now.” Her mother's voice had grown more confident with each phrase.

Beth studied her hands, avoiding the eyes fixed on her.
They're waiting for an
answer.
Expecting enthusiasm. My agreement.
Yet she suspected that if she said much immediately she would disappoint them all. “I've just come home, Mother.” Beth swallowed again. “I had thought . . . I'd looked forward to . . .” Beth looked around at their expressions. She struggled for the right response. “I'll need to consider it.” Another pause. “I certainly do need a bit of time to think it over.”

All the anticipation had instantly dissipated. Margret stood and slipped away with a pat on Beth's arm, Julie quickly followed, and Mother last of all. She hesitated at the door. “We were so excited to tell you, Beth. Particularly Julie. I wish you had . . .” She stopped and sighed. “Your response is rather unexpected since you've often begged to travel. I hadn't thought there would be any doubt of your agreement.” She shook her head. “And I don't know where you might stay, what you will do, if you do not join us. Father will be gone also. The house will be as good as empty. Please
do
consider carefully, darling. We've missed you dreadfully all this time. It hasn't been the same with you gone. And I don't think I could bear to leave you behind.” Mother's last statement followed her into the hall.

Beth gazed down at her partially unpacked trunks and refused to give in to tears. But as she reached trembling hands to continue the task, her heart felt heavy in her chest.

“Would you have time for a walk with me?” Her smile for her father felt a bit tremulous as she looked at him from the door of his study.

He set aside the book he was reading. “Of course, my dear.” He stood and slipped into his jacket, then followed her out.

Wrapping her shawl around her shoulders against the unusually cool June evening, Beth descended the broad steps with Fa
ther and surveyed the possibilities. The driveway, though long, was not suitable, so she turned instead toward the expansive lawn. Beth expected that at least a circle or two of the property would be necessary to express all her thoughts and feelings.

With a chuckle Father fell into step beside her. “I don't suppose these shoes have ever been on the grass before.” Beth stopped to look down at his hand-sewn calfskins. She had become quite used to walking outside whenever she wanted to think. Father took her arm, though, and they moved forward together. “My dear,” he said with a laugh, “I'm not as fussy as all that! It's just that I've never walked the grounds before. It simply never occurred to me. Could it be I've become one of those dreadful snobs?” His eyes grew large as he feigned fear at the thought.

Beth laughed despite her emotions. “Never, Father. Not you.”

For some time there was silence as she gathered her thoughts. They crossed the lawn to a long row of French lilac bushes shielding the property from the street. Several large clusters of fading flowers still clung to the branches, emitting a familiarly pungent fragrance Beth had always loved. She breathed in deeply, then turned to her father. “I'm not sure I want to go,” she whispered.

“Mother mentioned that to me.”

Beth looked away for a moment, shaking her head and wincing. “What else did she say?”

“That's not important right now.” They walked on a little farther, stood for a while before some large purple irises.

Shaking her head, Beth exclaimed, “I just got home! I can't even explain how wonderful that feels. I haven't even finished unpacking yet!” The next sound she made could have been a sob or a chuckle.

“I see.” Father tucked his hand under her arm. “Would it have made a difference if you'd had a week or two before departure?”

“I don't know.” She sighed. “Maybe—but probably not.”

“What is it, then, that's bothering you about this little venture?”

Beth turned to begin walking again, Father beside her. “Well,” Beth admitted, “primarily, I'm worried that I'll get a letter asking me to teach again. And if they don't hear back from me quickly, they might fill the position with someone else.”

“So you think the trip might put in jeopardy the possibility of a return to your school out west?”

“Yes, it could.”

“I see. It sounds as if you've decided to take the position if it's offered?”

Beth whispered her answer, lifting her eyes to meet his gaze. “I have, Father. I love it there.”

She watched as sadness flickered across his eyes, and she turned her head. He gave no reply. Another long silence passed as they continued their circle of the grounds, Beth wrestling with conflicting thoughts. She finally asked, “Can mail be forwarded to wherever we are?”

“Yes, that would be a rather simple matter.”

“And we'd receive it whenever we arrived in port?”

“That's typically what happens when I travel. Do you recall how many letters you've written to me over the years? And I've received every single one.” He paused and then said, “I can't promise there wouldn't be a delay. But then again, sending a telegram is always an option. In addition, we could instruct Jacob here to open any letter addressed to you that seems to be from the school board and telegraph the news to the ship when it comes.”

The thought ignited a faint hope. “That would be very helpful.”

“You might
enjoy
the trip, Beth. Have you yet considered that possibility?”

She felt herself softening. “Where will
you
be, Father? Why aren't you coming?”

“Ah, yes, well . . . I shall be in South America. Mr. Montclair and I have acquired some new contacts there that need immediate attention. We may even hire an aeroplane once we're in-country to visit the factories where the goods are produced. Who would have ever dreamed of such a thing? I may very well
fly.
” He held out his arms in mock wings and winked at Beth.

His dramatics made Beth laugh again. They had reached the tidy rows of fruit trees far to the back. A few still wore their late-spring blossoms. Father reached up for one to tuck in Beth's hair.

He added more seriously, “The economy around us is booming once more after so many difficult years, and perhaps we shall see it grow as never before. And though I'm not as convinced as some who are throwing caution to the wind, I do believe in a steady expansion of our business endeavors—striking while the iron is hot, so to speak.” He paused thoughtfully. “I have always
enjoyed
travel, Beth, which is why I suppose I'm well-suited to this business. But I do regret my many absences from home. I've been gone too frequently as you've all been growing up. However, that is the harsh reality of life. I'm afraid there is a cost to
any
achievement, and often a decision to strike out in one direction means being forced to release what we leave behind, including those we regard with fondest affections.”

Beth knew by the look in his eye and the way his voice was
tightening that he was not really talking about his business any longer.

“I would like to keep you close with us always, my dear,” he said quietly. “But I could never begrudge you the privilege of making up your own mind and choosing your own road. In fact,” he said with a playful smile, “last year there was a rather easy path in front of you. You could have settled down with young Edward Montclair with the blessings of both sets of parents, and lived quite comfortably, I'm sure.”

“Oh, Father,” she interrupted, blushing at his teasing words. “You know he could be a friend only.”

“Actually,” he said, turning serious once again, “I rather doubt Edward will stay for long in the West. But you have chosen otherwise. Perhaps there is a little of me in you after all.” He took her arm, and they continued on. “You bear enough resemblance that your mother will certainly blame me for your nomadic propensities far away from us. I've no doubt that you've already encountered hardships and gone without much to which you were accustomed, but it seems to have suited you well. In fact, you seem all the stronger for it. I'm very proud of you, Beth.”

She leaned her head against his chest and slipped her arms around his waist. “Thank you, Father dear. It means more than I can say that you understand.”

She could heard him chuckle again, deep inside his chest. “Then again, sometimes choosing to strike out on one's own takes one closer to
new
friends and special people.”

A gasp caught in Beth's throat, and she buried her face in his suit jacket.
Julie! What has she been telling out of turn?

But as they moved on, he said, “I received the most unusual telephone call two nights ago—on the evening before you came home. It was from a man, someone I've never met.
Imagine that!” He chuckled, not with humor so much as significance. “I think this man is someone I will need to meet. Someone I would very much like to get to know. At any rate, he asked to speak with
you
, my dear.”

Breathless, Beth asked, “What . . . what did you say?”

“I told him that you had not yet returned to Toronto, but that he could telephone again this evening to determine if you had interest in receiving his call.”

“Father!”

“I was
very
cordial, Beth. I introduced myself, asked him how he knew you. We had a little chat, the two of us. It was very . . . enlightening.” Though his words were lighthearted, he had turned his head and was studying her face carefully.

Beth, heart beating fast, tried not to imagine any details of what they had discussed. “Are you going to tell Mother about him? I'm afraid she'll make a fuss. Are you—?”

“No, dear. I shall not tell your mother. But before he calls tonight, I believe it would be wise for you to do so.”

Beth gulped and nodded.

M
OTHER
,
DO
YOU
HAVE
A
MOMENT
?”

When Beth had gathered her courage enough to take her father's suggestion, Mother was seated at her writing desk in the sunroom.
She's probably assuming I've come to discuss
the cruise. Oh, heavenly Father, please help me find the
right words. Please help Mother to understand.
Beth's prayer helped calm her. “Could we sit on the sofa? I think we'd be much more comfortable there.”

With a sigh, Mother rose and repositioned herself on the embroidered silk settee facing the tall windows overlooking the back garden. Beth took a seat beside her, hands fidgeting nervously on her lap. She said the first words that came to her. “I expect someone to telephone me tonight.”

“Who, darling?” The eyes surrounded with only tiny wrinkles sparkled with surprise and pleasure. She obviously was assuming this was one of Beth's Toronto friends . . . maybe an eligible male.

“Someone I met in Coal Valley,” Beth rushed on. She watched
as Mother's eyebrows knit together. There was no retreating now. “It's—it will be from a man.”

Mother cleared her throat, blinked, and managed, “Go on.”

“His name is Jack Thornton, but I call him Jarrick, his given name. I suppose at first it was just to tease him . . . but he's not nearly ordinary enough to be a ‘Jack.'” Mother did not seem to be impressed. “He's an officer of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.”

“You met him through Edward?” The question sounded quite pointed.

“No. He was working in our area. We met . . .” Beth's mind searched for a moment, struggling to recall exactly when she had first seen Jarrick. “We were introduced by the local pastor. On the first Sunday I attended church. The two of them came to where I boarded as guests of Miss Molly—for Sunday dinner.” She hoped this first meeting would set an appropriate scene in Mother's mind.

“And you've been keeping company ever since?”

Beth shook her head quickly. “Oh, no, we haven't truly been keeping company at all. He's never even called on me. Not really. We've only had interactions through—through everyday life. I've seen him at community events, worked alongside him sometimes. Julie met him too when she was in town.” Beth knew she was sounding rushed and nervous. She stopped for a breath, thought back over the day the three of them had explored the countryside around Coal Valley, she and Jarrick and Julie.
He was so gracious with his
time, thoughtful and charming,
she remembered. But she couldn't express such thoughts aloud to Mother. Instead, she added weakly, “Surely I've mentioned him in my letters.”

“I don't recall the name.”

That's quite possibly true.
In her efforts to shield Mother from some of the more alarming adventures, she probably had omitted all but oblique references to Jarrick. “Well, he's a nice man, Mother, a little older than me—almost thirty, I think. But I don't know when his birthday is.”
What else
should—can—I say?

“He's from a good family in Manitoba; his father is a pastor there. He has one sister and some brothers. I don't know much more than that about his family.” It seemed a painfully inadequate summary, one which would not suit Mother's now-piqued interest at all.

“How long has he been an officer?”

“I don't know. We didn't discuss it.”

“Does he intend to remain in that area or will he be moving around—as Wynn and your auntie Elizabeth did? Edith Montclair has said that Edward will settle in Calgary, has just announced his engagement to a woman named Kate Duncan. They plan to wed soon.” The words were forceful, seeming to increase in volume as they rebounded off the painted floor tiles and echoed back accusingly from every corner of the high-ceilinged room.

Beth's answer was quiet. “I'm pleased for Edward. And I don't really know where Jarrick's job will take him. We haven't . . . discussed it.”

“Hmmm. I see.”

Beth thought about his parting words spoken only a week before—that she had the qualities he wanted in a wife, that if God were to bring her back, he hoped she would consider giving her permission for him to call. “He did . . . we did express our interest in . . . in getting to know each other better. We talked of not losing touch while I'm home over the summer.” Though the words were true, such euphemisms shaded the
truth just a little. Beth knew her bond with Jarrick was much stronger than she was admitting.

She watched her mother's mind work its way through the information. “So that is why you do not wish to travel. You want to be here to receive his telephone calls?”

“It's not only that. I've just come home, Mother. I . . .” It occurred to Beth as she began to argue that it would be best not to confuse the two issues. She changed direction. “At any rate, Mother, I plan to accept the call from Jarrick tonight. I hope that doesn't distress you. He's already spoken to Father about it. I'm not sure how or when it might be possible for you to meet, but I do hope that can be arranged. I think you'd approve of him. I think you'd
like
him. He's such a . . . such a
gentleman
.” She felt the description was wholly inadequate, but maybe one that would impress her mother. Her gaze dropped to her fidgeting hands as she continued. “He's kind, and articulate, and good with children, and thoughtful. And I've watched how hard he works to keep people safe—to protect us all. He truly cares about his job—”

“I see.”

Beth almost asked,
Were you never in love, Mother?
but caught herself at such an audacious, maybe even disrespectful, question. Her thoughts continued, though, in response to her own query.
Is that what I'm feeling—this thrill at the
very thought of him? Am I in love with him
?
Somehow identifying that label made Beth both uncomfortable and elated.

At that moment they heard the tinkling of the dinner bell. They rose together, and Mother linked an arm through Beth's. “I shall endeavor to keep an open mind about all this, my dear. I do hope you'll not be hasty or rash in your own judgments. There is no need to hurry such a relationship along.”

You wouldn't say that if it were Edward we
were discussing!
But Beth remained silent and allowed herself to be led away to supper.

No reference was made during their pleasant evening meal to anything Beth had discussed with her parents. Father was quiet, as was typical, making a comment from time to time, but largely allowing John and the women around the table to manage their own conversations as their plates were filled by Emma. She supposed both Mother and Father were pleased they were all together again at last. And were it not for the impatient flutters in her stomach, Beth would have thoroughly enjoyed the meal.

After dessert, they rose together and retreated to the parlor. Margret took up a bib she had been stitching, Julie continued with her sketch of Father—the outline of face and shoulders had begun to take shape—while the rest settled in with books. Beth didn't even pretend to turn the pages of hers.

“Father,” Julie complained, “you must stop shifting in your chair! I can't sketch properly if you're going to keep moving.”

“I'm sorry, my dear. I seem to be somewhat distracted tonight.”

Beth's eyes involuntarily turned toward his office door.
At
any moment we might be interrupted by the telephone. The
rest will expect Father to close the door as usual
before answering. Will he do so tonight? Will he expect
me to follow? Maybe he'll actually receive another call
instead, forcing the operator to tell Jarrick the line is
busy and to try again later. . . .
And on and on, Beth's what-ifs whirled through her mind. She forced herself to settle back and actually begin reading.

When the telephone did ring, Beth jumped, and Julie giggled, wondering aloud if her poor sister hadn't heard a
telephone for a while. Father stood calmly and went into his office, shutting the door. Only Mother cast a knowing glance at Beth.

After a moment, Father reappeared. “Beth, would you come please?”

All eyes watched her move through the room, which suddenly seemed much larger. Father motioned toward the handset on the desk beside its base and quickly exited, closing the door behind him.

Beth sank into his leather office chair, leaned forward, and rested her elbows on the massive desk. She cleared her throat and positioned the handset next to her ear. “Hello?”

“Hello, Beth. It's Jarrick. It's so good to finally hear your voice.”

She laughed a little. In reality only a short time had passed, yet she felt the same way. “Yours too, Jarrick. It feels so long since I left—almost as if I dreamed it all. It's the strangest sensation to be home again.”

“How was your trip?” It seemed like an awkward question, too formal for the enthusiasm she was feeling.

Working to steady her voice, she answered, “It went rather well. No difficulties, though it was every bit as long as the first time.” An attempt at a little joke, but he made no indication he caught it. “I was just as anxious to see it come to an end,” she finished a bit lamely.

“And your family—how are they doing?”

“Oh, very good. Everyone is fine.” She smiled and repositioned herself at the desk. “Umm, I hear you spoke with my father.” The comment moved the conversation beyond small talk. She waited breathlessly for his answer.

“I did,” he admitted. “I knew before I placed the call that I likely would be speaking to him. I doubted you would be
the one to answer the telephone. So at least I was ready for the questions—I'd prepared my answers as best I could. I do wish I hadn't called before you arrived, though. That was quite embarrassing! And disappointing.”

“I hope he wasn't too hard on you. My father can be rather protective of his girls.”

“Not at all, not at all, Beth. He was surprisingly calm, courteous, and matter-of-fact. I'm sure he hadn't anticipated my call. But he stepped up to the occasion.” He laughed a little nervously. “I would expect that by now he's telephoned Edward. Since he's the only person—other than you—who knows both your father and me. I would expect him to look into my credentials, so to speak.”

Beth hadn't thought of that possibility.
It does sound like what Father might do.
What would Edward have had to share about Jarrick? At
least he's one of the few aware of our
interest in each other. Perhaps he would be inclined toward
being gracious and kind. Surely there was no reason for
him to say anything else. But would Father have reached
Edward on such short notice?

Jarrick was saying, “Have you heard that Edward is already engaged?”

“I did. My mother mentioned it today. I knew it was his intention to ask Kate soon. Have you met her?”

“Only once. She seemed quite nice—rather shy but a sweet young lady. They say one should marry an opposite, so they should be well matched.”

“Um-hmm,” Beth agreed, unable to keep herself from wondering if she and Jarrick also were opposites.

He sighed and said quickly, “I'm afraid we won't have long to talk, Beth. I'm at the station in Lethbridge. I was able to borrow an office here, but I doubt I'll be allowed privacy for much longer. I did want to tell you how much I've missed you.
To . . . to express again how much I'd like to keep in touch with you over the summer. I haven't heard anything more about the teaching position here in the fall, but—”

“Jarrick,” she interrupted, “I'm sorry, but I do have something I must tell you.” She didn't wait for a response. “My mother and sisters are planning to leave for Quebec City this Monday,” she hurried on, “and the ship will depart on Wednesday afternoon. You see, they've planned a cruise. They want me to go along.”

“How nice for you, Beth. I'm sure it would be a wonderful experience.” He paused. “You'd be back in time for school in the fall?”

“Yes, it won't be a long cruise. Just six weeks. Julie would have very much preferred a world expedition—as if she can immediately catch up on all the traveling she's wanted to do for years. Father vetoed that idea. Still, the travel and distance will make it much more difficult for us to—to communicate. I doubt I could receive calls on board the ship.”

“We could still write?”

“Yes, but letters will be slower. I'd receive them when I arrived in the next port.” She waited for any indication of his reaction, fingering the braid-covered cord dangling from the receiver, then lowered her voice. “I haven't decided yet. I haven't committed to going along.”