An Unexpected Love (42 page)

Sophie pushed a strand of hair from her forehead; she must have looked a sight. “I began having those pains again. The doctor has ordered me back to bed.” She swallowed, hoping to force down the lump in her throat. “I don’t want to stay in bed until December.” A tear formed and laced her eyelash. Paul leaned forward to brush it away with a gentle touch.

“It’s going to be difficult, but we’ll get through this, Sophie. We need to trust God and continue to pray that you and the baby will remain healthy.”

“Don’t you think God would want our family together? I believe I can make it to Rochester. Uncle Jonas could arrange for a Pullman car, where I could rest for the entire journey.”

“Nothing would please me more than to take you home with me, but I couldn’t bear to live with myself if anything should happen to you or the baby.” He shook his head. “You would be required to ride in the boat to Clayton, and even in a Pullman car there would be jostling. Then there would be the carriage ride from the train station in Rochester to our house.”

She perked to attention. “Our house? Did you go ahead and purchase the house you told me about?”

He leaned forward and rested his arms across his knees. “I told Mr. Jefferson, the owner, that we would come by tomorrow with our final decision. Now I’m not certain what I should do. I don’t want to purchase a house you won’t like.”

She thought for a moment and then squeezed his hand. “Ask Fanny and Amanda to come upstairs.”

“Now?”

“Yes. I think I have a solution.”

Moments later Paul returned with her two cousins, and Sophie explained Paul’s dilemma. “When both of you return to Rochester, you can go see if you think the house would suit me. Between the two of you, I’m confident you’d arrive at—”

“I’m staying here with you,” Fanny said, “but Amanda could certainly go with Paul. I think she will know if you’d be pleased with the house.”

Sophie grinned. “Uncle Jonas agreed you could stay?”

“We arrived at a mutual decision.” Fanny glanced over her shoulder at Amanda. “What do you think, Amanda? Will you have time before school begins?”

“Well, of course. I’d be pleased to help. School doesn’t begin until mid-September. I may even have time to return here before I leave. If not, we can make a drawing that will show you exactly how the rooms are arranged and mail it to you. Would you like that?”

“Oh yes. That would be splendid, but I hope you’ll be able to come and visit before you go off to school.”

“I’ll do my best. I haven’t yet received my letter of acceptance, but I believe the letter will explain when winter break begins. I’ll come to see you then.” Amanda leaned down and kissed Sophie’s cheek. “Please take care of yourself and do as the doctor instructs. I need to leave now. Mr. Atwell is waiting to take us to Clayton.”

Fanny followed Amanda to the door. “We’ll leave you and Paul alone to say your good-byes, but I’ll return once the family has departed.”

Paul sat in the chair near Sophie’s bed. “I had so looked forward to your coming home today. This seems completely wrong.” He buried his face in his palms. “I don’t want to leave you here.”

Pain laced his muffled words, and Sophie touched his hands. “I’m going to be fine, Paul. Remember, you’re the one who said we must trust God.”

He dropped his hands and stroked her cheek with his thumb. “Thank you for the reminder. Why don’t we agree upon a time when the two of us will pray at the same time each day? It would make me feel closer to you.”

Sophie wasn’t sure the arrangement would have the same effect upon her, but she agreed they would pray at nine o’clock each evening. The sound of the
DaisyBee
’s engine drifted through the open window. “You’d better go. They’ll be waiting for you,” she whispered.

He captured her face between his palms, his eyes seeking permission. When she offered no objection, he leaned forward. Without thought, she lifted her arms and embraced him, her lips returning the warmth of his kiss. Her heart needed the love this man so freely offered.

28

Tuesday, September 6, 1898
Rochester, New York

Jonas curled his lips and shoved the report across his desk. He’d reviewed the figures several times, but nothing had changed for the better. “How can this be happening to me? Is the economy never going to regain momentum?”

Mortimer picked up the paper and traced a bony finger along the row of figures. “Shame you chose some of these investments, Jonas. You’ve suffered some terrible losses.” He continued to inspect each of the columns. “On the other hand, it appears Fanny’s investments are doing very well. Perhaps you shouldn’t have placed so much of your money and confidence in George Fulford and his pink pills.” The old man cackled.

Jonas slapped his hand on his desk. “If you have nothing to offer except cutting remarks, you may as well go back to your office.”

Mortimer folded his liver-spotted hands atop Jonas’s desk. “No need to raise such a rumpus. I understand your concern, but nothing positive will be accomplished if you’re consumed with anger. We need to think this matter through.”

“I’ve already given it a great deal of thought. We need to transfer a large sum from Fanny’s bank account into mine.”

“We may be able to transfer some of the funds, but not to the extent you’re suggesting. There is no possible way I can accomplish that feat without Fanny’s signature on the paper work and presenting it to the court. Could you obtain her signature?”

Jonas shook his head. “She’s staying at Broadmoor Island until December. Even if she had returned to Rochester, I doubt I’d be able to convince her without answering a surfeit of questions. Now that she’s attained her legal majority, it’s become more difficult to manage her.”

“I’ll transfer what I can, but it won’t be near what you need.” Mortimer jotted a note on a piece of paper and shoved it into his pocket. Obviously a reminder of what must be done.

Jonas pointed toward the older man’s pocket. “You shouldn’t be writing down any of this information. Too risky.”

“The paper merely says
Jonas
and the word
transfer
. I don’t think anyone would find those two words incriminating.”

“All the same, I prefer you keep mental notes. If you need a reminder, I’ll ask you next week if you’ve completed the task. Make certain you transfer as much as possible. These losses are creating havoc with my business dealings.”

Mortimer removed the paper from his pocket, tore it into tiny pieces, and shoved them across the desk. “I understand. No doubt Amanda’s schooling and living expenses are going to create quite an exorbitant expense, as well.”

Jonas scooped up the pieces of paper and placed them in a nearby ashtray. He would burn them once Mortimer departed. “Amanda won’t be going to school. I contacted the college and told them to deny her admission. She would never accept my refusal, but if the college does not accept her application, she’ll have no choice but to remain at home and find a wealthy husband. College is no place for women. It’s a complete waste of money. Marriage and children—that’s what suits women.”

“Well, I wholeheartedly agree, but I must say that I’m surprised you’ve permitted her to work over at the Home for the Friendless with Dr. Carstead. People do talk, and what I’ve heard hasn’t been good.” He furrowed his brow and leaned closer. “Your friends wonder why you would even consider consenting to such an unseemly arrangement.”

Jonas forced a laugh. “There would have been no peace under my roof if I had objected. Both Victoria and Amanda were determined. After dealing with financial woes all day, the last thing I wanted was to come home and listen to a harping wife and daughter.”

“Back in my day a woman knew her place,” Mortimer said.

“Times change, Mortimer. Besides, with Amanda on the island for the summer, I thought she might forget about pursuing a medical career. Unfortunately, she still seems set upon the idea. Having Clara Barton visit the island several times didn’t help my cause, either. That woman did nothing but encourage Amanda to follow her dreams. Little wonder Miss Barton remains a spinster. I’ve never met a woman so set in her ways.”

Mortimer removed his pipe from his jacket pocket and filled the bowl with tobacco. “Then you had best put a halt to Amanda’s working, or you’re going to have your own Clara Barton to deal with.”

“I suppose it’s time I concentrated on finding a suitable man for her.”

Mortimer tamped the tobacco and nodded. “She’s far beyond marriageable age. But as you’ve discovered, this generation tends to dislike arranged marriages. They want to fall in love,” he said, patting his palm on his heart.

“Amanda will do as she’s told or face the consequences. I expect her to marry someone who will bring something substantial to this family, either name or prosperity—hopefully both. I don’t intend to have her marry some irresponsible fellow who’s only interested in the Broadmoor wealth.”

“Broadmoor wealth?” Mortimer chuckled. “If your investments don’t soon see some improvement, such a suitor would be in for quite a surprise.”

After offering a fleeting good-bye to her father and mother, Amanda stopped in the foyer and pinned her straw hat into place. The morning mail sat on the walnut pier table, and she stopped to riffle through the envelopes. Her heart quickened at the sight of an ivory envelope with a college seal emblazoned in the upper left corner.
Finally!
She was beginning to think she would never receive her letter of acceptance.

Fingers trembling, she carefully opened the envelope and unfolded the letter. Quickly scanning for the date when classes would begin, her eyes locked upon the words
unacceptable candidate
. Still reading, she stumbled toward the sitting room and dropped to the sofa. This couldn’t be possible. There must be some mistake. Surely her qualifications were equal to any other candidate who’d applied for admission—probably better. She traced a finger beneath each sentence. The letter said her application hadn’t been received in a timely manner, yet she knew that couldn’t be true, for she had mailed it long ago. She would appeal the decision, and they would be forced to accept her.

Surprise soon bowed to anger, and she marched into the dining room, where her parents were finishing their breakfast. Holding the letter by one corner, she waved it in front of them. “Can you believe they are refusing me entry into medical school?”

Her father arched his brows. “I told you that these schools give preferential treatment to men. You shouldn’t be surprised.”

Amanda slapped the letter beside his plate. “Look at this.” She pointed to the sentence that mentioned her late application. “That’s impossible. I sent in my application nearly a year ago. How could it be late?”

Her father shook his head. “Who can say what happens with these things, but you should simply consider it a sign that medical school isn’t in your future.”

“What?” She yanked a chair from beneath the table and sat down next to him. “I plan to appeal their decision. This is unfair.”

Her father picked up the letter and quickly scanned the contents. “Many things in life are unfair, but it doesn’t mean you can change them.” He pointed at a paragraph near the end of the letter.
The admissions board will entertain no further action on your application. This decision is final.
“I believe the matter is settled, Amanda. Even if you send a letter requesting an audience with the board, it appears they’ll refuse you.”

“And school will likely be in session by the time they would reconsider,” her mother said.

“
If
they would even reconsider,” her father added. “And from the tenor of this letter, I doubt they will.” He sipped his coffee and returned the cup to its saucer. “We need to set aside all of this talk and consider your future.”

Amanda couldn’t believe her ears. What did her father think this was about if not her future? “Medicine
is
my future, Father. My application to medical college was the first step in that direction.”

“I’m discussing your
real
future—marriage, children. We need to find you a husband.” He glanced at her mother. “Who was that young man Mrs. Stovall mentioned the other evening? He sounded like an excellent prospect.”

Amanda jumped up from the table. “I’m not going to listen to this. Dr. Carstead will be waiting for me at the Home for the Friendless.”

Despite her mother’s plea to remain and further discuss her future with them, Amanda raced down the hallway and out the front door. It now appeared that her mother was going to join ranks with her father to encourage a proper marriage. Well, that didn’t interest Amanda—not in the least. When she’d settled in the carriage, she removed the letter from her pocket and once again read it. Tears wouldn’t help the situation, but she hadn’t been able to stem the flow. She removed a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her eyes. She must stop this silly crying. After crumpling the letter, she shoved it into her reticule. Perhaps anger would defeat the overwhelming sadness that had taken up residence in her heart.