Belonging (24 page)

“Don’t cry, Kathleen.” He couldn’t help but use her given name. Calling her Mrs. Summerville would feel too strange after her confession.

She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

“I won’t pretend I didn’t know you … felt kindly toward me … and that you’d be open to a union between our families.”

A soft groan escaped her lips, and she cast her gaze to the floorboards between them.

“But the truth is, I don’t know if I care to marry again. Only times I’ve considered it, it was because of Charity, because I think she needs a mother.” He cleared his throat, uncomfortable with his words, hoping he wouldn’t cause her more distress. “When I’ve considered marriage, Kathleen, I’ve known it’d make sense if I were to choose you.”

“Thank you … Colin,” she said softly, raising her eyes to meet his. “It’s kind of you to say so.” After a moment’s hesitation, she turned toward the door. “I’ll go get Charity for you. Would you care to wait inside?”

“No. If it’s all right with you, I’ll just wait for her here on the porch.” He hadn’t lied to her. If he were to marry, it would make sense to choose Kathleen for his wife. Problem was, make sense or not, it wasn’t her he wanted to be with. It was an entirely different woman who captivated his thoughts. One who’d felt so right in his arms when he carried her home from the river that morning.

“Of course. That’s perfectly fine. I’ll send Charity out to you.” Without another backward glance, Kathleen opened the door. “Good evening, Mr. Murphy.”

And just like that, they were back to more formal means of address.

“Good evening, Mrs. Summerville.”

Long after the household had grown silent, Kathleen lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, remembering the events of the day.

“I won’t pretend I didn’t know you … felt kindly toward me … and that you’d be open to a union between our families.”

She groaned as Colin’s words repeated in her head. How mortifying—but not surprising. She’d known he wasn’t looking for a new wife. But then, she didn’t want to marry him either.

No, she really
didn’t
want to marry Colin. She liked him. He was a good man, a good friend, but that was all. And to marry for no other reason except to escape living with her mother-in-law would be wrong. Wrong for herself. Wrong for her daughters.

How embarrassing that others had witnessed her attempts to win Colin’s affections, especially since she’d done so to placate Mother Summerville, not because she truly cared for him. How awful it would have been if she’d succeeded. She’d loved Harry, and because of it, she’d loved bearing his children. Would she want to share the bed of a man she didn’t love simply to appease Helen?

In her imagination, she pictured a crooked grin and heard another voice.
“If you’ll be dancin’ this year, I hope you’ll save one of ‘em for me.”

Her pulse quickened as her mind went a step further. She imagined herself lying in Oscar Jacobson’s arms, pictured them snuggling close beneath warm quilts on a cold winter’s night.

Oscar?

He was much younger than she, too much for her to think of him in a romantic way. He probably owned little more than his horse and saddle, assuming he owned even those. What were his prospects? They must be limited indeed.

One thing for certain, Mother Summerville wouldn’t approve if Kathleen allowed Oscar Jacobson to come courting.

She rolled onto her side, hugged a pillow close to her chest, and closed her eyes. But sleep wouldn’t come for several more hours.

TWENTY-THREE

A throbbing headache awakened Felicia before dawn. She wasn’t surprised. Nightmares had tortured her sleep. Again and again she’d dreamed of water rushing into her nose and throat, of struggling for air, of longing for dry land when there was none. She’d felt her arms and legs and torso and head slamming against large, sharp river rocks, felt water rolling and twisting her in crazy circles, felt her clothes weighing her down.

Better to be awake, her head pounding, than to experience that panic rising up in her chest over and over and over again.

She discovered the location of every bruise when she got out of bed. Thankfully, the more she moved around, the less stiff she felt. By the time she left the house for church, she was able to walk normally. When she rounded the back of the mercantile, she saw Colin and Charity standing at the corner of the street. She wondered if they were waiting for her, and the thought brought a flutter to her chest.

Colin tipped his hat as she drew close. “Good morning.” He looked extraordinarily handsome in his Sunday suit.

“How’re you feeling, Miss K?” Charity reached for her hand.

“Quite myself again.” Felicia gave the girl’s hand a squeeze.

“I’m sorry about what happened. I never meant for the rod to
hit you. If Papa hadn’t come …” The words trailed off into a guilty silence.

Felicia glanced at Colin.

“I already told her it was an accident.”

“Of course it was an accident.” Felicia’s gaze returned to the girl. “Anyone’s line could have gotten stuck. If I’d paid more attention to the ground beneath my feet, I wouldn’t have slipped when the line broke. Besides, I’m none the worse for wear.” She gave Charity’s hand another squeeze before releasing it.

As if by mutual consent, the threesome turned and began walking in the direction of the church, Charity moving out in front, leaving her father to walk beside Felicia. Strange, the way she seemed to feel the heat of his body through her bodice sleeve, even though there was a good foot of space between his arm and hers.

His arm.

His arms around her. Her ear to his chest. The rhythm of his heartbeat. His long stride as he carried her into the house. His hands cradling her shoe … and then her foot.

Merciful heavens!

She felt the heat rise in her cheeks.

Please don’t let him look at me. Please don’t let him guess my thoughts. Please don’t let me faint again!

As they drew near the church, other congregants greeted Felicia and expressed their good wishes for a swift recovery. She assured them that she was already recovered and hoped the flush of embarrassment would give her cheeks a healthy glow rather than make her look feverish.

“Sit with us, Miss K,” Charity said as they climbed the steps to the church entrance.

Each of the previous Sundays since her arrival in Frenchman’s Bluff, she’d sat with a different family. It would be rude to refuse
Charity’s request, even if Felicia wanted to. And she didn’t want to, she realized as she stepped into the back pew, even though sitting elsewhere might have made her more comfortable—not to mention better able to concentrate on Reverend Hightower’s sermon.

She had another reason to regret her decision when the Summerville family entered the sanctuary a short while later. Although Kathleen smiled in her direction, it seemed strained. And her mother-in-law’s eyes had daggers in them. Helen Summerville must have learned that Felicia had broken her word.

I’ll have to apologize.

The realization made her wish she’d remained at home in her snug cottage.

There was something right about Felicia sitting in the same pew with him, Colin decided as the congregation rose to sing the first hymn. A rightness he hadn’t felt in church for years.

Not since Margaret died.

Was it because he’d begun to open his heart to God once again? Or was it because the Lord hadn’t allowed Felicia to drown yesterday, that God had enabled Colin to reach her in time? Whatever the reason, he was glad she was there beside him.

He held the hymnal toward Felicia. She took hold, keeping the book low enough so Charity, who stood between them, could see the words. When she sang, he was taken by the pureness of her voice.

“O for a thousand tongues to sing my great Redeemer’s praise. The glories of my God and King, the triumphs of His grace!”

Mixed in with Felicia’s clear voice, he heard his daughter singing too. Their voices seemed to blend naturally together, and the sound moved his heart. Or was it the words of the hymn that moved him?

“My gracious Master and my God, assist me to proclaim, to spread through all the earth abroad the honors of Thy name.”

Had Felicia ever entertained doubts about her Master and God? He was sure she hadn’t, and he envied her that. But perhaps it would be possible for him to find his way back into a relationship with the Savior. Perhaps the day would come when he could sing the hymn with the same conviction.

“Jesus! the name that charms our fears, that bids our sorrows cease; ‘tis music in the sinner’s ears; ‘tis life, and health, and peace.”

As if aware he watched her, Felicia turned her head, and their gazes met above Charity. In that moment, he knew his world was about to change in more than a spiritual sense.

TWENTY-FOUR

Felicia closed the book and leaned back in the chair. “I think that’s enough for tonight,” she told Charity. “You’re doing very well.”

The girl beamed at the praise, and when her father appeared in the kitchen doorway, she jumped up, went to him, and hugged him around his waist. “Miss K says I’m doing good.”

“Doing well,” Felicia corrected, but she did so with a smile.

Colin smiled too, but it felt to Felicia as if she were the reason and not his daughter. Her heart began to gallop in response.

“How about a piece of apple pie before you go?” he asked, his gaze still locked with hers.

“Yes!” Charity released her hold on her father and returned to the table.

Felicia meant to decline the offer, yet somehow she found herself nodding.

“You two deserve a treat. You’ve worked hard every night for three weeks now.” He went to the counter and removed a cloth from a pie tin. “Ellen Franklin dropped it off this afternoon.”

Felicia could see the glitter of lamplight on the sugary crust and bubbles of pale juices around the edges. “It does look good.”

“It’s good,” Charity said, removing plates from the cupboard. “Mrs. Franklin always makes good pies. I like cherry better, but the apple’s really good too. You’ll see.”

“My daughter’s a … What’s that word?” He paused, frowning. Then he grinned again. “Oh yeah. Connoisseur. She’s a connoisseur of desserts.”

Charity looked at him, obviously uncertain whether to be pleased or upset by what he’d said.

“The word means you’re an expert judge of taste,” Felicia informed her.

“Oh.” The girl brightened. “I like that.”

Felicia watched as Colin cut into the pie, dividing it into six rather large slices. She took pleasure in watching his hands, the way he held the knife, the way he scooped the dessert onto the plates, the way he looked at his daughter with such open affection. The whole room was warm with love, and it enveloped Felicia too. Made her feel almost a part of the family.

He turned, and their gazes met. Her mouth went dry, for she thought she saw something in his eyes that she shouldn’t see, for his engagement to Kathleen was no less binding simply because it was as yet a secret.

Colin brought two plates to the table, setting one before Felicia. Charity carried her own dessert and three forks, one for each of them. Soon they were all seated around the table, the books and slate from their study session pushed aside.

As Felicia took the first bite of apple pie, she remembered a time as a little girl when her entire family had been seated around a table much like this one. The tenement flat had been smaller than the Murphy home. Colder too, the winter wind seeping through the walls and windows, overpowering the fire in the stove. But in her memory, she wasn’t cold. In her memory, everyone was smiling, even her father. They were eating pie, a rare treat, for there was rarely enough money for sugar. She remembered her father rising
from his chair and drawing her mother up from hers and dancing with her around that small kitchen, both of them laughing.

Tears came to her eyes, and she blinked several times to keep them from falling.

“What’s made you sad, Miss Kristoffersen?” Colin asked softly.

She shook her head as she cut another bite of pie with the edge of her fork.