Brides of Ohio (46 page)

The choir began another song, and Peter’s mind wandered to the other tasks Mike had assigned to him today. His boss was very pleased with how well he had taken to his job. Peter seemed to have a knack for fixing things. It would appear that God had answered his prayers about His path for his life.
Then why aren’t I happy about it?
He found himself still yearning to be around horses. A great number of his duties were around or near the university farm buildings. Every time he saw the horses stabled there, he felt a pang of longing and envied the students assigned to care for them.

Then there was Anne Kirby. Try as he might—pray as he might—her face was never too far from his thoughts, and he always seemed to see her somewhere, in the halls of the Main Building or walking home in the afternoon with her uncle. Even more troublesome was the sense of sadness about her. It made the urge to charm a smile back on her face even more difficult to control. Thank goodness there had never been an opportunity to speak to her again.
I’m trying to do what’s right, Lord. I’m trying to walk away from my past, but I feel like a horse on the end of a lunge line, going in one big circle.
He winced. Couldn’t he even pray without images of his old life crowding in?

From inside the chapel a voice began to speak, and Peter’s heart gave a start as he recognized it.

“‘The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.’” Dr. Kirby read. “‘He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.’”

If there was more, Peter didn’t hear it. He was too much in awe of how God had just used the voice of Professor Kirby to speak to him. How could he have forgotten the promises of the Twenty-Third Psalm?
Thank You for reminding me You’re still guiding me.
He was still praying when the double door opened and students began to stream from the room. Peter shook himself, and after the last of the students had exited, he entered, all eyes on the podium, upon which sat a Bible. It still lay open to Psalm 23. He was rereading the words when he heard voices.

“I had hoped the reading today would bring you comfort.”

Peter turned. Professor Kirby and his niece stood near the window. Neither of them had seen him; the professor’s back was to him, and Anne’s eyes were lowered. She said nothing in response to her uncle, and Peter heard him let out an exasperated sigh.

“Jonah never should have allowed Sam McAllister to get away with leading you on in such a way. If I were him, I would have beat the living daylights—”

Peter quickly cleared his throat, and they both turned to him. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought the room was empty.”

Anne looked away, and a smile quickly replaced the startled look on the professor’s face. He walked over to Peter and shook his hand. “Not at all. It’s very good to see you.”

“I didn’t hear much—”

“Don’t give it another thought. We should be having this conversation in a more private place. Please, allow me to introduce my niece, Anne Kirby.” With reluctant steps, she joined them on the podium. “Anne, this is Peter Ward.”

“Actually, we’ve met already,” Peter said. “Sort of.” Her cheeks reddened, making her look so beautiful that he forgot himself, his charm overriding all else. “Please let me know if you find any more spiders. My boot is at your service.”

The professor looked at Anne with raised eyebrows. “I encountered a spider my first day at the library, Uncle Daniel,” she said. “Mr. Ward was kind enough to kill it for me.” His heart swelled at the little smile she bestowed on him. “Thank you again.”

“Not at all,” he replied. Their eyes locked for a moment, and he swore he saw something other than melancholy color in them, but it quickly vanished. He carefully closed the Bible on the podium and handed it to her.

“If I’m not mistaken, this goes with you.” Their fingers brushed, and he thought he could power the whole university with the surge that the brief contact triggered. He thrust his hands in his pockets.

“If you will excuse me,” Anne said. “I really should get back to the library.”

“Of course,” Dr. Kirby said. A gentle sort of sternness colored his voice. “We’ll talk later.”

She nodded and, with a final glance at Peter, left the room. He didn’t realize he was still looking at the door until the professor grasped his shoulder. Words of apology sat on his tongue, but he didn’t need them.

“Thank you,” the professor said.

“Sir?”

“That’s the first smile I’ve seen from her in a week. I guess you can surmise what happened to her from what you overheard.”

Peter nodded. “I’ll pray for her, sir.” He almost regretted making that promise, but he didn’t like the weariness that suddenly lined the professor’s face. God would just have to help him handle whatever feelings praying for Anne evoked. He rubbed the back of his neck. “But I am sorry that I overheard your conversation. I had no idea you both were standing there.”

“Don’t be. Probably best that you know how shamefully she was treated so you can be clear in your prayers.” The professor pulled out his pocket watch then snapped it shut. “I should go. My next class is waiting for me.” He shook Peter’s hand and left.

Peter retrieved his broom from the hall, and as he swept the lecture hall, he wished he could sweep away his guilt as easily. He’d never seen the other side of his actions before, never seen the condition of the hearts he’d left broken. Seeing the sadness in Miss Kirby’s eyes gave him an excruciatingly clear picture.
Lord, please allow her heart to be healed of its hurts. And forgive me for ever doing to anyone what was done to her.
The words of the psalm returned to his mind.
Restore her soul.

A
nne climbed the stairs to the library with shaky steps. She hadn’t imagined that the janitor’s assistant was the same young man her uncle had helped over a month ago. Since that was clearly the case, then he certainly wasn’t married. It had been easier to keep thoughts of him far from her mind when she’d imagined him with a wife and children. She stopped on the landing between the second and third floors.
It will still be easy once I go into town tomorrow.
Tomorrow was Saturday, and her uncle had a faculty meeting for a large portion of the day. If she could get by Mrs. Werner, she intended to take the streetcar into the city. She couldn’t wait any longer. The prospect made her feet turn to water as she continued.

“There you are,” Emma said as Anne walked back into the library. She took the Bible from her. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” Anne replied. “Those stairs can be quite a chore.”

“Yes, it’s taking me some time getting used to running up and down them myself.”

Anne looked around the library. Shelves blocked some of her view of the room, but from what she could see and hear, it seemed empty. “I guess we better shelve some books while we have the chance.” A mysterious smile formed on Emma’s lips. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said a little too brightly. She took the Bible from Anne. “I’ll start with this. I think there are some books lying on a shelf on the far side of the room.”

Anne walked between two shelves to the open area where the study tables sat. Patrick Howard sat at one of them with a mythology book lying open before him. She knew studying was not his motivation for his visit. She sighed. This was the third time in as many weeks that he’d come to the library specifically to visit her. What she had said at Dr. Townshend’s party hadn’t deterred him for long. He’d clearly seen the advantage in the possibility of a wife who had no trouble seeing animals born.

She stepped back and leaned against the shelf. With the exception of Mr. Howard, she may have put off the other young men from the party, but there were certainly more where they came from. Several eligible young men had approached her since the term started. With few exceptions, the majority of them were nice, and Anne truly hated discouraging them. Each time she did so, it was a reminder that her chance to become someone’s wife and helpmeet was no longer possible, the reason she’d become sad and moody over the past month. She peeked out at where Mr. Howard sat. She might as well get this one over with.

She stepped out from between the shelves, and he looked up and smiled at her.

“Good afternoon, Miss Kirby.”

Anne pasted on a polite smile. “How are you today, Mr. Howard?”

“Very fine, thank you. I enjoyed your uncle’s reading during chapel. It’s nice hearing the Twenty-Third Psalm recited with such meaning. It was as if he were trying to give someone a bit of comfort.”

Anne’s smile flattened a little. “Is
Bullfinch’s Mythology
required reading now for a degree in agriculture?”

Mr. Howard’s face reddened. “No, it was just sitting here when I came in.” He stood and walked over to her. “The weather has been very fine, lately, and I wanted to ask if you would be interested in accompanying me and some other students to Goodale Park tomorrow. I understand from your uncle you have no plans.”

His invitation caused Anne to pause. Goodale Park, according to her uncle, was close to the city. Accepting might be to her advantage.

“Oh, but I’m not a student, Mr. Howard. Would the others want me along?” If she accepted too quickly, he and Uncle Daniel—who was clearly in on this—might suspect something.

“It’s all upperclassmen, Miss Kirby. Seniors, mostly.” Hope shone in his eyes. “Please come, we’d love to have you.”

“Very well, Mr. Howard, you can count me in.”

If Mr. Howard was pleased with her response, her uncle was even more so when she told him as they walked home that evening.

“I’m glad, Anne. Patrick Howard is a fine young man.” He smiled down at her. “I guess that psalm helped more than either of us thought.”

Anne looked away as she remembered listening to the Twenty-Third Psalm in chapel that day. She knew Uncle Daniel had meant well, but she wished he hadn’t read it. Hearing what had once been such a source of comfort for her was now almost akin to torture. The words
“He restoreth my soul
” echoed mockingly in her ears. How was that possible now? Tears toyed with the edges of her vision. She stumbled a little and firmly grasped her uncle’s arm. He, in turn, slowed to steady her. “Careful now, it won’t do for you to twist your ankle.”

“No, it won’t.” She looked out over the darkening university grounds. “Will you have a chance to visit Scioto when we get home?”

Her uncle paused for a moment then sighed heavily. “No, I’m afraid, not again tonight. Too many papers to grade.” He hefted the leather satchel. “You know, when I told you a month ago to let Ben take care of him, I never meant that you should stop visiting him altogether. He misses you.”

“Does he?”

“Of course, horses are social by nature. He’s wondering where the main member of his herd has gone.”

She could just make out his wink in the dusk and had to chuckle. “Uncle Daniel, are you trying to tell me I resemble a horse?”

Her uncle laughed. “Hardly, but I really should see about getting a stable mate for him. Since you seem less interested in visiting him—”

“It’s not that I don’t want to see him,” she said softly. Nothing could be further from the truth. “I’m just trying to stay out of trouble.”

In her mind, her departure approached far too quickly. Only yesterday Emma had mentioned that Clara Fuller, the young woman Anne was filling in for, was doing well and might return as early as the first of the year. Anne had realized it would probably be easier on both her and Scioto if she visited infrequently. After her uncle rebuked her for brushing him down, she’d gone to see him a few times, but over the past couple of weeks, she hadn’t been out to the stable at all.

“Ben’s doing fine with him,” Uncle Daniel said. Anne hoped that was true. Now that the term was in full swing, her uncle rarely had time to go see him, and when he did, it was in the evening. It was hard to tell just how well a horse looked in lamplight. “You’ll see for yourself tomorrow. I intend to ride him over to the faculty meeting.”

The next morning, something about Scioto didn’t seem quite right when her uncle led him out of the stable. Was it that his coat wasn’t gleaming as brightly as she remembered? Or that he seemed to hold his head slightly lower than he had when she cared for him at home? Mr. Howard, who had arrived for their outing, seemed not to notice anything amiss.

“He’s a fine animal, Dr. Kirby,” he said. “He looks good for his age, too. A Morgan, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” Uncle Daniel replied. “I found him during the war, after my own horse was shot out from under me. A year or two after the war ended, I was able to find out who he originally belonged to and pay them. He was quite valuable. You should see his bloodline.”

“No wonder Dr. Townshend was eager to breed him. He is sure to be pleased when those foals come this summer,” Mr. Howard replied.

Anne watched her uncle mount, still not quite satisfied by the way Scioto looked. Her uncle smiled, and prodding his horse into a slow trot, guided him down the path that led to the main road. She bit her lip. He seemed to be moving well enough. Maybe she was imagining things. She turned to find Ben leaning against the stable door.

“Is he eating well?” she asked.

Mr. Howard interrupted before the young man could answer. “Miss Kirby, of course he is. I would think even you could see that.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “Even me?”

“Not to be mean, but you’re a librarian.”

“But I was raised on a farm. I can tell when a horse looks ill.”

“But
I
will eventually be a veterinarian. And I can tell you for certain that horse is as healthy as a horse his age can be.” He pulled out his watch and glanced at it. “Are you ready? We really should be going. The streetcar will be coming by soon.”