Courting Miss Callie Page 6

  She surged to her feet. “I should have known Ellen would write to her mother about me. And that Mrs. Hall would tell you.”

  “They do like to gossip, dear. And, to be fair, Ellen is concerned about you.”

  “Ha! She only wants to know when I will return so she can make her plans accordingly. There is no other woman on the Buffalo social circuit who can match Ellen’s beauty and she’s thrilled to have the attentions of all those wealthy men to herself. She’s after a rich husband, and does not bother to hide the fact. At least not from me. Well, Ellen is welcome to the whole, arrogant, self-serving, duplicitous lot of them!” She stopped and stared at Sophia, horrified by what she’d blurted.

  “I hope you have made your feelings clear to Penelope and Edward.”

  The sound of her mother’s and father’s names cooled her anger as effectively as a fire being doused by a bucket of the cold flood waters of the Allegheny. She folded her lips over her teeth, spun on her heel and walked to the stove. “I need some tea. Would you care for a cup, Aunt Sophia?”

  “You haven’t told them you don’t wish to marry any of these men?”

  She took the tin of tea off the shelf and reached for the china teapot. Sophia wasn’t going to give up. She chose her words. “I’ve tried. Father feels he knows what is best.”

  “For you? Or for his purse?”

  She gasped and whirled about, caution forgotten. “You know of their financial straits?”

  Her aunt’s face went taut. “I know Edward was running through his inheritance like a fire through dry brush before he moved you all to Buffalo.” Sophia’s eyes narrowed on her. “How did you learn about it? I know Penelope is besotted with the man, but surely she wouldn’t tell—”

  “No! No, Aunt Sophia, you mustn’t think that of Mother. I overheard Father telling her that if they moved to Buffalo and introduced me to the social circuit, a wealthy man would pay handsomely for my hand and their financial future would be secure.” Her voice broke. She sat the teapot on the worktable, and swallowed to ease the tightness in her throat.

  “And you’ve been carrying that burden ever since. No wonder you’re troubled and unhappy.”

  Sophia rose, marched toward her and gripped her upper arms. She stood frozen, awed by the sight of her aunt’s eyes flashing with violet sparks.

  “Now you listen to me, Callie Rose Conner. The Lord did not see fit to bless me with children of my own, but He brought you into my life, and I’ll not see your life ruined by the selfish desires and wasteful habits of your father and mother.”

  Sophia’s hands tightened on her arms, gave her a little shake. “You will not marry a man to fill your father’s purse. That is senseless. Edward will only run through the money the same as he has his inheritance, and, no doubt, in shorter time. And then what? You will be married to a man you don’t love and living a lifestyle you have no taste for—and your parents will be no better off than before.”

  “But, Father and Mother need—”

  “No, Callie, that way lies folly. You cannot save your parents from themselves—and I’ll not let you sacrifice yourself trying. You will live here with me until you meet a man you wish to marry. And should your parents find themselves in need, they are welcome to come live with me as well. Penelope is my sister and I’ll not see her in want. As for her wastrel husband—I’m quite sure he would enjoy strutting among my guests as if he owns Sheffield House.”

  “Oh, Aunt Sophia—” Her throat closed. She threw her arms about Sophia’s neck, buried her head against her shoulder and burst into tears. Sophia’s arms closed around her.

  “Hush, dear. There’s no reason to cry.”

  “But, I thought—” she gulped back tears “—I thought I’d have to—”

  “I know, Callie. But that’s over. Everything will be fine.”

  Bootheels thudded on the porch floor.

  She jerked erect. “Breakfast! I forgot all about it.” She swiped the tears from her eyes.

  Sophia leaned forward, kissed her cheek, then gave her a little push in the direction of her bedroom. “You go freshen your face, dear. I’ll deal with Joseph and Ezra.”

  She ran toward her room, whirled about in the doorway and choked out the words clogging her throat. “I love you, Aunt Sophia.”

  “I love you, too, dear. Now, go!” Sophia made a shooing motion with her hands as the back door opened.

  She darted into her bedroom and shut the door, the beauty of her aunt’s smile glowing through a deluge of unstoppable tears.

  * * *

  The sun hung high in the blue expanse overhead, but the western sky promised rain. Not that it mattered. Nothing could dampen her spirits today. Callie drew her gaze from the dark clouds rolling and piling one against the other in the distance, lifted her skirt hems and dashed out onto Main Street, darted between two wagons and hopped up onto the board walkway on the other side.

  Not very decorous behavior for a young lady of her age, but she felt so light since her conversation with Sophia that morning, it was a wonder her feet were even touching the ground. Standing and waiting for the lumbering wagons to pass was unthinkable. She hurried around the parsonage to the back porch and ran up the steps.

  “Woof!”

  “Hello, Happy.” She leaned down and scratched behind the dog’s ears. “Aren’t you the smart dog, getting up on the porch before the rain comes?” His tail wagged his agreement. She laughed and patted his shoulder, then straightened, tapped her knuckles against the door and entered.

  The gray-haired woman at the worktable glanced up from her work and smiled. “Hello, Callie. She’s in the sitting room.”

  “Thanks, Bertha.” She hung her burnoose on a peg by the door, sniffed the air and glanced at the dough the woman was rolling out. “Rose water cookies. Yum.”

  The older woman laughed. “I’ll bring you some with tea, soon’s the first batch comes out of the oven.”

  “Lovely!” She smiled and rushed down the hall into the sitting room. “You were right, Willa!”

  Willa spun about and rose from her chair at the secretary desk in the corner, her eyes wide, her mouth agape. “Callie! What—”

  “I’m staying, Willa. I’m going to live with Aunt Sophia.” She crossed the room and enfolded her stunned friend in a quick hug, whirled away and came to an abrupt, teetering halt on the tips of her toes. “Oh!” She caught her balance, ignored the heat stealing into her cheeks and smiled at her friend’s husband standing in the doorway. “Hello, Reverend.”

  “Good afternoon, Callie. Forgive my intrusion, but I heard the excitement and came to investigate.”

  She stared at the man’s smile and realized, all over again, why Willa had lost her heart to him. “Please come in and share my good news, Reverend.”

  “Good news?”

  “Callie is going to be staying in Pinewood.” Willa turned to her. “I’m so glad you told Sophia the truth.” Willa’s blue-green eyes searched hers. “You did tell Sophia?”

  She shook her head. “Ellen wrote Mrs. Hall about my leaving home without accepting any of the men Father had granted permission to court me, and Mrs. Hall told Aunt Sophia.”

  “Oh, my. I didn’t think of Ellen doing that.” Willa sighed and motioned to the chairs by the fireplace. “I must say, I’m not surprised.”

  “Nor I. But, odd as it sounds, I’m grateful to Ellen.” She leaned down and stroked the yellow cat curled on the hearth soaking up the warmth of the fire. “Hello, Tickles.”

  She smiled at his contented purr and straightened, glanced at Matthew, standing beside Willa’s chair, and sobered. “I believe this is one of those times when the Lord works in mysterious ways. My heart was in conflict with my parents’ wishes for me to marry a man, for whom I had no personal regard, for his wealth.”

  She sat, looked ov
er at her friend and smiled. “The other night, Willa told me to trust the Lord. I had struggled against that.” She returned her gaze to Matthew. “I was afraid of what He would require of me.”

  “You’re not alone in that, Callie. Many people fear what God will ask of them if they give up control and trust Him to have His way in their lives. But God understands our fears. And He wants only what is best for us.”

  Matthew’s eyes and his soft voice held no condemnation. Something deep inside her eased. She nodded, smiled as Tickles rose and stretched and leapt up into her lap. “I finally came to the place where I gave the situation into God’s hands, but I’m afraid it was more out of desperation than trust.” The cat purred, his back arching beneath her stroking hand.

  “God understands that, too. And He honors that first step of faith.”

  A smile rose from deep inside, curved her lips. “I believe that’s true. For now this has happened. Everything has worked out for the best. Sophia has invited me to live with her—and my parents as well, should they have the need. I will not have to marry for gain, and—”

  Lightning snapped, sent a white brightness flickering through the room. Thunder clapped. Rain spattered against the windows, turned into liquid fists beating upon the small panes of glass. “Oh, my, I must be going.” She lifted Tickles to the floor and rose.

  “I’ll get the umbrella and walk you home.” Matthew hurried from the room.

  Willa rose and linked arms with her. “I’m so happy you’ll be living with Sophia, Callie.” A smile warmed her friend’s face. “It will be like old times, being close to each other. I wish Sadie—”

  A loud clap of thunder made them both jump. They laughed and hurried to the kitchen, everything but the need for haste forgotten. She smiled at the housekeeper. “Tea will have to wait for another time, Bertha.”

  The door burst open. She jumped back as Happy darted inside, followed by little Sally, who threw herself against Willa and buried her face in her long skirt.

  Envy, as sharp and jagged as a lightning bolt, jabbed her heart as Willa went to her knees, took her stepdaughter into her arms and stroked her hair in a mother’s comforting caress. “It’s all right, Sally, you’re home now.”

  Thunder boomed.

  Joshua bolted through the door, slammed it behind him. “Made it!” He shook like a dog, drops of water flying off his blond curls onto her dress. He stopped, frowned, then grinned up at her. “Sorry, Miss Callie.”

  She grinned back. “That’s all right, Joshua. I’ll have more than a few drops on me by the time I reach home.” She took her burnoose off the peg and swirled it around her shoulders.

  “I see school was dismissed early—as per the rules for a storm.” Matthew strode into the kitchen, a smile on his face.

  She hurried to fasten her cape, then paused and stared at that smile, watched it grow warmer when he stopped beside Willa.

  “Want to go for a carriage ride, Mrs. Calvert?”

  Pink crept across her friend’s cheeks. Love shone in their eyes. She turned from the intimate moment to finish fastening her cape. Please, Almighty God, if it be Your will—

  “You’re safe, small stuff.”

  She looked back. Matthew was crouched by Sally. He kissed the top of her head, rose and tousled Joshua’s curls. “Thanks for taking care of your sister, Josh.” A crooked grin slanted his mouth. “Bertha’s baking cookies.”

  An identical grin tilted the boy’s mouth. “I smell ’em. C’mon, Happy.” He trotted over to Bertha, his dog at his side. Sally lifted her head from Willa’s shoulder, sniffed, and hurried after her brother. Tickles strutted into the room.

  Her heart clenched at another sharp jab of envy. This was what she wanted. Not an empty life of parties and social pursuits, polite conversations between husbands and wives, and nannies caring for one’s children. And now, thanks to Sophia, maybe someday she would have her heart’s desires.

  “Are you ready?”

  Matthew’s deep voice drew her from her thoughts. She nodded, gave Willa a quick hug and followed him out the door onto the porch.

  Lightning crackled and flashed white light across the darkened sky. Thunder crashed and rumbled. Rain sheeted down from the roiling, black clouds.

  “Looks like this is going to be a nasty one. We’d best hurry.”

  She nodded, pulled her hood up and stepped close. They hurried down the steps and out to the street, the umbrella Matthew held over her quivering and bucking in swirling gusts of wind. He tilted it forward and the driving rain stopped pelting her face. Raindrops slapped at the taut silk in fury, the din drowning out all other sound. Beneath the umbrella’s edge she saw a horse’s hooves flash by, splashing muddy water. She lifted her hems in front, despaired for her slippers and the back hems of her petticoats and dress.

  Matthew grasped her elbow, guided her across the rain-filled ruts of Main Street. The hotel shielded them from the worst of the storm as they hurried around to the back porch. He tightened his grip, helping her up the water-slick steps. Rain drummed on the roof, drowning out the sound of their footsteps as they crossed to the door.

  “Thank you for bringing me home.” She looked at the rain-soaked front of Matthew’s coat and at his hat, dripping rainwater from the brim, and frowned. She leaned close to be heard. “Please come in, Reverend. I’ll fix you a good hot cup of tea and—”

  He shook his head, sending drops of water flying. “I’d best get back to Willa. I like to be with her in a storm.” Something warmed his eyes, then was gone. A memory? Perhaps, judging from the smile playing at his lips.

  She tamped down another spurt of envy. “Then you’d best hurry. And tell Willa I said she is to coddle you with a good hot cup of tea in front of that nice warm fire.”

  His smile widened. “I shall give her your message, but I’ll make that tea a cup of strong, black coffee.”

  Matthew’s laugh drew an answering smile from her. He touched the brim of his hat, turned and hurried away.

  She watched until he disappeared around the corner of the building. What had happened between Matthew and Willa in a storm? Would she ever have such memories? An image of Ezra leaning over her in the shay flashed into her head.

  Lightning sizzled a yellow streak against the growing darkness. She frowned, removed her burnoose, gave it a few shakes to free it of raindrops and went inside.

  * * *

  Hooves thudded against the planks of the barn. Ezra laid the harness he was oiling on the chest, wiped his hands on a clean rag and hurried out into the stable area.

  “Good afternoon, sir.”

  “There’s nothing good about it. A man could drown in that rain.” The man on the horse looked around, then climbed from the saddle and handed him the reins. “Water Duster, then rub him down and give him feed as well as hay. Put him there in that front corner stall. I don’t want him close to the other horses. He gets fractious, especially during a storm. I expect you to keep him calm.”

  The man slapped rain from his hat, placed it back on his well-groomed head, and brushed at the soaked sleeves of his garrick coat. “Filthy weather.” He untied a leather case from behind the saddle, tugged his coat collar up around the back of his neck and strode through the open barn door toward the hotel.

  “He’s a pleasant one.”

  He glanced toward Joe’s room at the other end of the barn and smiled at the head groom standing in the doorway, turned into a shadow by the lantern light behind him. Joe had befriended him thinking him nothing but a poor drifter, and it felt good. “I guess he doesn’t like getting wet.” He smiled at Joe’s chuckle and gave a gentle tug on the reins. “Come along, Duster. Let’s get you that drink of water.”

  Lightning cracked, flickering light through the dark interior of the barn. Thunder crashed and grumbled. The horse snorted and jerked his head up, the whi
tes of his eyes shining in the glimmering light. He lunged toward the door, hopped on his front legs as the reins drew taut. His hooves landed with a dull thud against the floor. His shoulder muscles bunched.

  “Whoa, boy. You’re all right.” Ezra took a shorter grip on the reins, held the bay’s head down and stepped close. “That’s better.” He stroked the trembling flesh on the tense, arched neck, watched the ears twitching back and forth. “It’s only lightning and thunder—it’s not going to hurt you. You’re all right.” He kept his voice low, soothing.

  The bay blew, tossed his head and whickered.

  “That’s right, you can trust me. Now, let’s get you into that stall, and I’ll bring you a bucket of water.” He held the reins close, gave another easy tug.

  The horse snorted, then stepped forward. He led him into the stall, tied the reins to the manger and slipped out of his shirt. “This should help, fella.” He draped the shirt over the horse’s head, tied the sleeves around its neck and patted the sturdy shoulder, feeling the tense muscles relax. “Good boy.”

  Lightning glittered through the windows. Duster stood quiet, blinded by the thick, blue wool of the shirt. Thunder grumbled. The bay snorted, pawed at the clean bedding on the stall floor, then quieted.

  He hummed a tuneless accompaniment to the drumming rain, removed Duster’s saddle and blanket, rubbed his back and girth with a clean feed sack, then moved forward and scooped grain into a feed bucket nailed to the wall. The horse’s nostrils twitched. He stretched his muzzle forward and sniffed the offering, blew, then pulled his head back. “All right, it’s there when you’re ready, fella. I’ll give you a good brushing when I get back.” He removed the bridle and stepped out of the stall, latched the door and snatched up a bucket.

  “Good job, calming that horse.” Joe tugged the barn door he’d closed open wide enough to let him go through.

  The wind was blowing the rain sideways. He looked at the elderly groom, and gave him a wry grin. “I don’t suppose you’d like to get the water?”