Every Perfect Gift (16 page)

She shook her head. It didn’t matter now. There could be nothing between them. From now on, she would speak to Ethan Heyward only concerning her printing orders for Blue Smoke. Guard her heart.

She fanned her face and looked around the church. Today it wasn’t as crowded as in recent weeks. Some of the Blue Smoke workers were undoubtedly using this weekend to pack their belongings and head for home. And Gillie had reported that several more families had been stricken with a nasty summer cough. She and Doc Spencer hoped it would not spread even further.

His sermon concluded, Robbie motioned the congregation to their feet and led the final hymn. Sophie closed her eyes as the words of the song washed over her.

Mercy now, O Lord, I plead

In this hour of utter need;

Turn me not away unblessed;

Calm my anguish into rest.

The people gathered their hats and reticules and squirming children and prepared to depart. Sophie still sat there, hungry for that spirit of peace but failing to grasp it.

“Can you come home with me?” Gillie clasped Sophie’s arm. “Mother has invited Thomas Ryden to Sunday dinner. He’s the son of one of her old school friends—a professor of bugs at some college back east and—”

Despite her anguished heart, Sophie laughed. “A professor of bugs?”

Gillie waved one hand. “You know what I mean. He studies insects, though to what purpose I haven’t a clue. Mother claims Tom is just passing through, but I’d wager my last button she has recruited him as a marriage prospect for poor little old me. You must come and save me from death by tedium.”

“I wish I could, but I must speak to Robbie.”

Gillie’s blue eyes held both curiosity and sympathy. “Is everything all right at the paper? Are the Caldwells all right?”

“They’re well, at last accounting. This is a more . . . personal matter.”

“Oh. I won’t pry then, but you do know you can count on me.”

“Yes, and I’m more grateful than you can imagine.” Sophie caught Robbie’s eye and waved. He grinned and waved back.

“If you change your mind, come on out to the house this afternoon. I’m certain Mr. Ryder will be holding forth on the wonders of black beetles for hours on end.”

Just then Mrs. Gilman sailed over, the pink and white silk flowers on her summer hat stirring in the warm breeze wafting through the open windows. “I heard that remark, Sabrina, and I must say I find it most unbecoming.” She eyed Sophie. “I see you’ve settled in, though I can’t imagine why you would want to live in a place where you have no friends. It must be terribly lonely here for someone like you.”

“Mother.” Sabrina frowned. “You’re being inexcusably rude.”

“Sabrina is my friend,” Sophie said, “a very good one. As is Reverend Whiting and his parents. And the Rutledges. And Lucy Partridge. Sheriff McCracken looks out for me as well.”

“Nevertheless,” Mrs. Gilman said, lifting her chin, “it seems to me that you’d be better suited elsewhere.”

“Hickory Ridge needed a newspaper.” Sophie tried to smile,
but her throat was tight with worry. Mrs. Gilman was just the kind of woman to foment trouble for its own sake. Why, oh why, hadn’t she listened to Wyatt and started her newspaper someplace else?

“I must speak to Dr. Spencer,” Gillie said. “I’ll see you later, Mother.” She pushed through the door and headed for her rig.

Mrs. Gilman placed a hand on Sophie’s arm. “Our Sabrina does seem to be quite taken with you, Miss Caldwell. All she can talk about is you and that paper of yours.” She frowned. “And her scheme for an infirmary. It’s ridiculous.”

Sophie took out her fan and snapped it open. “I’m afraid I don’t agree, Mrs. Gilman. I hope the mayor and the council will at least listen to her proposal.”

“It’s an entirely unsuitable pursuit for a woman of her station, and I wish you wouldn’t encourage her. She needs to find a suitable match and take her rightful place in society before it’s too late.” With a curt nod, Mrs. Gilman whirled away.

Sophie fanned her face and waited for Robbie to finish greeting his flock. His wife, Ethelinda, dressed in a modest blue frock with lace trim at the throat, stood beside him, talking quietly with two elderly women while Robbie exchanged greetings with the Pruitts. As they made their way up the aisle toward the door, Mr. Pruitt noticed Sophie and offered a brief nod.

“Good morning, Mr. Pruitt,” Sophie said. “Mrs. Pruitt.”

“Look, Jasper,” his wife said. “You see the fabric of her dress? That is exactly what I was talking to you about last week. You need to order some for the mercantile. Now that Blue Smoke is open, ladies in Hickory Ridge will be wanting something a little fancier for Founders Day and the harvest festival, and not all of them can afford to have me make dresses for them.”

Jasper eyed the periwinkle-blue silk frock Ada had sent the week before. “It is right pretty. I will think on it, honeybunch.”

Mrs. Pruitt straightened her hat and offered Sophie a
gap-toothed smile. “When he calls me honeybunch, it’s as good as done.”

Remembering the storekeeper’s harsh judgments when she was a child, Sophie tried to hide her surprise. Time had certainly softened Mr. Pruitt’s heart. Or perhaps Robbie’s stirring sermons were at least partially responsible.

The Pruitts and the elderly ladies left. Ethelinda began counting the morning’s offering, the coins spilling into a leather pouch with a faint tinkling sound. Robbie hurried over to Sophie. “I’m glad you’re here today. I wasn’t sure you would be after two nights of festivities up at Blue Smoke. I understand the opening was spectacular.”

Sophie nodded, overcome with the need to unburden her heart.

“I imagine you must be exhausted. I heard the governor was there last night. I was hoping he might turn up here this morning, but I didn’t see—” He frowned. “Sophie Robillard Caldwell. Something is wrong, and don’t bother denying it.”

She twisted her handkerchief into a tiny damp ball. “I’ve done a terrible thing, and I doubt it can be fixed.”

“Our Lord is the master of the impossible fix,” he said. “You want to talk about it?”

“I was hoping for a word with you, but—” She glanced at Ethelinda, who had finished counting the offering and was busy retrieving her gloves and hymnal from the piano bench.

“Ethelinda won’t mind. Wait here.”

Robbie spoke to his wife, who stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear before leaving through the side door. Robbie led Sophie to a tiny alcove just off the cloakroom. Barely large enough for a desk and a chair, it was filled to overflowing with books and papers stacked haphazardly on the floor. A narrow window was open to the breeze that drifted across the street, bringing with it the scents of baking bread, leather, and horses.

Motioning her to the chair, Robbie leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms. “Now, what’s troubling you?”

“I have told an untruth, and my heart is about to break because of it.”

“Go on.”

Briefly she told him of her encounter with the blue-eyed stranger outside Ethan’s office and of last night’s conversation with Ethan in the garden at Blue Smoke. “He acted almost as if he hated the man, who was obviously . . . like me. When he asked whether my family was Italian, I said yes. Because I didn’t want him to hate me too.”

Robbie sighed. “I don’t blame you for wanting to retain his good opinion. It’s human to want to be accepted.”

“It isn’t only my personal feelings at stake. Ethan is my best customer. I can’t afford to lose his account.” She opened her reticule and dropped her wadded handkerchief inside.

“But, Sophie, haven’t you jumped to conclusions here? You can’t know what the problem is between those two men. Their antipathy might be due to any number of things. And you can’t be sure he’d stop doing business with you because of questions about who your parents were.”

Through the open window, she watched a buckboard rumble toward the railway station. “I suppose you’re right, but I didn’t want to take that chance. And now there is no going back.”

Robbie smiled, his blue eyes glinting with amusement.

“What’s so funny?”

“I was just thinking about how God answers prayers.”

She looked up at him, her brows raised, her palms up.

“Just this morning I was trying to settle on the subject for next week’s sermon. I couldn’t seem to decide what I should talk about. And then lo and behold, here comes my oldest friend, wrestling with the question of deceit.”

She slumped in the chair. “I’m happy to know my troubles inspired you. But honestly, I don’t know what to do about it.”

“Yes, you do.” He pinned her with his gaze and waited.

She sighed. “I suppose you’ll tell me I must confess and ask both God and Ethan to forgive me. Believe me, I rehearsed that confession a thousand times last night when I couldn’t sleep. But then I kept imagining Ethan’s reaction.”

“It isn’t easy to admit to a wrong. But the truth, however unpleasant, is hardly ever as bad as we imagine. If Ethan Heyward is half the man he ought to be, he’ll accept your apology, forgive you, and you’ll go on as before.”

His voice softened. “We’ve been apart for a long time, Sophie, but I still can read you like a book. And the chapter I’m reading right now tells me you might be developing feelings for this man that are far deeper than you’ve admitted—and that have nothing to do with the success of the
Gazette
.”

Heat crept into her cheeks. Was she really so transparent? But it was a relief to unburden herself to someone who knew her so well. “It makes no sense, really. I’ve seen him only a few times, but I do like him very much.”

“Then you owe him a friendship based upon truth.”

“I know that, but I lack the courage.”

He steepled his fingers and studied her. “Maybe what you really need is the courage to believe that you are a perfect creation, just as you are. That our Creator knew what he was doing when he made you.”

The train whistle pierced the quiet. Robbie took out his pocket watch. “I should go. My mother-in-law arrived here last night for a week’s visit, and Ethelinda reminded me that we promised to take a picnic to the river this afternoon.”

Sophie laughed. “Robbie Whiting, somehow I cannot picture you on an outing with a mother-in-law.”

“Sometimes it doesn’t seem real to me either. But it will be all too real if I’m late. Mrs. Wilkins is a good woman, but she can be sharp-tongued when she feels her daughter is getting less of my attention than she deserves. I ought not to keep them waiting.”

She rose. “Thank you for listening to my troubles. They must seem small compared to what so many others face.”

“The Lord makes no distinction among us, Sophie. He sees and feels all our suffering and is willing to offer solace if we ask.” He took both her hands. “If you value Mr. Heyward’s friendship, you know what you must do. Do it now, before it’s too late.”

THIRTEEN

For two months, the mayor and the town council have refused Miss Sabrina Gilman an opportunity to present her idea for opening an infirmary in Hickory Ridge, despite support from Dr. Ennis Spencer and many of our leading citizens.

Last week the mayor again refused Miss Gilman’s request, citing an overcrowded agenda. However, he and the council members had plenty of time to discuss the purchase of a new brass spittoon for the post office and plenty of time to debate whether Sheriff McCracken or Mr. Griff Rutledge ought to lead this year’s Race Day parade. If the men of this town think so little of the welfare of—

“Sophie?” Caleb Stanhope stuck his head into the office and Sophie’s fingers stilled. “Sorry to disturb you when you’re writing, but our shipment of newsprint arrived on this morning’s train and the stationmaster wants it out of the way. You want me to finish printing the fliers for Blue Smoke or go get our paper?”

Sophie took off her reading glasses and set them aside. “I
suppose you’d better get the paper. I’ll finish the Blue Smoke order.”

He came into the office and peered over her shoulder. “I hate to interrupt your work, especially when you’re on your high horse about Miss Gilman’s infirmary.”

She massaged the tight muscles at the back of her neck. These days work was her only solace. Since her conversation with Robbie, she had slept fitfully, turning his words over in her mind. She never doubted God would forgive her, but Ethan might be a different matter entirely. Perhaps Robbie was right and she needed to summon the courage to be the woman God had created, regardless of anyone’s opinion. But so far that was easier said than done.

She pushed back her chair and stood. “I can finish this later. The Blue Smoke order can’t wait.”

Caleb nodded and brushed his unruly hair from his eyes. “Mr. Pruitt says he heard the resort’s been full up this whole week, and we’re still almost a month from Founders Day. He says if we keep getting a steady stream of visitors, Hickory Ridge will grow rich as Croesus. Whoever that is.”

Sophie smiled. “In which case there is no reason on earth why the town council should not support Gillie’s infirmary.”

“They won’t have any choice once people read your new editorial,” Caleb said. “Shame ’em into it if you have to. The mayor is just being pigheaded, is all. He likes to remind people who is in charge of things around here.” He headed for the door. “I’ll find a freight wagon and get our paper over here.”