Lady of Light (21 page)

As Evan and Ian drove off in the buckboard, heading for Grand View’s feedlot, Claire paused to wave, then turned and headed up the gravel-strewn path leading to the rectory. At her knock, the Reverend Noah Starr answered.

For an instant Claire just stared, then finally found her tongue. “Er, I’m sorry to disturb you, Father Starr, but Millie’s expecting me.”

“Come in. Come in.” He stepped aside and swung open the door. “My aunt’s just finishing up icing her cake for the quilting society get-together. Why don’t we wait for her in the parlor?”

She was tempted to tell him she’d join Millie in the kitchen, or even wait outside. As much as she already admired the Reverend Starr, Claire felt at a complete loss in speaking to him alone. Indeed, what could a simple country girl such as she have to say to such a gifted, brilliant man?

Still, good manners demanded she acquiesce to his request, so Claire reluctantly followed Noah Starr into the parlor. He took a seat in a burgundy, damask-covered wing chair, and indicated she should sit on the flowered settee.

“Nice day,” the Reverend Starr commented mildly. “Too fine a day to spend indoors making endlessly tiny stitches on some quilt.” He laughed, the sound rich and warm. “But then, I cherish whatever free time I have to spend out of doors, so I can hardly call myself a neutral observer.”

Claire settled herself, smoothing the green-and-white calico skirts of the summer dress Abby had lent her, then glanced up. “Aye, it
is
a glorious day,” she managed to croak out, “but I’ve been so looking forward to meeting more of the town’s ladies, that I’m willing to sacrifice a wee bit for the opportunity.”

“I think you’ll find most of the ladies quite pleasant. We’re very fortunate in Grand View to have so many good Christian women.”

“Aye, so it seems.”

Silence fell between them then, and Claire found sudden fascination in twisting the small, heart-shaped locket Evan had recently given her.

“So, how do you like your new home so far?” the young priest finally asked. “It must have been very hard, leaving Scotland behind, no matter how much you love Evan.”

The concern in the Reverend Starr’s voice resonated with her. Claire jerked her startled gaze back to his and, for some inexplicable reason, tears filled her eyes. Frantically, she blinked them away.

“It was indeed hard to leave Scotland,” she rasped, “but everyone—yourself included—has tried to make me feel welcome. In time, all will be well with me.”

“It was hard for me at first, too, moving out here after living all my life in New England. I tried in every way I could to find some excuse not to come. But my uncle needed me, and I finally faced the fact this was where the Lord wished me to be. Still, there were times in the early months when I hated this place. I feared it would swallow me up, that I’d never amount to anything if I stayed here.”

Noah Starr smiled sadly. “In those days, I had imagined that I’d a brilliant career ahead of me in some wealthy old church in some large city. But you know something, Claire? I would’ve lost myself in such a place. But here … here in this small, simple town, I now see everything so much more clearly. I believe this is where the Lord wishes me to make manifest His glory.”

He blushed then. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go on so long, or presume to tell you this at such short acquaintance. I tend to get a little ahead of myself at times. Please forgive me if I’ve offended you.”

So shocked she didn’t know how to respond, it was all Claire could do not to stare. “You didn’t offend me, Father,” she finally managed to reply. “Indeed, it’s most heartening to hear you speak so freely of things that touched you, and of experiences we might well share. You’ve given me much to think on, about God’s will for me and how I might best manifest it here.”

“That’s truly what I intended to do, even if I tripped all over myself in the doing.”

The young priest smiled then, and the act only lent his already handsome features an even more radiant beauty. Claire inhaled a sharp breath.

“Well, I see Noah is handling his duties as host quite admirably,” Millie Starr observed with a laugh from the parlor doorway. A colorful, padded box in her hands, she walked into the room. “Here, this is a welcome gift from Noah and me.” She held the box out to Claire.

“Och, you didn’t have to give me aught,” she said, coloring fiercely as she accepted the box. “Your kindness and friendship were quite—”

“Hush, child,” Millie chided. “Open it and see what’s inside.”

A twisted, blue twine latch closed the box, covered in a green-and-blue floral pattern. Claire flipped the latch and opened the lid. Inside was a sewing kit consisting of a little red velvet pin cushion, a brass box of black pins set with bright beads, two papers of various sized sewing needles, two silver-plated thimbles, several spools of thread, and a tiny pair of gold-plated scissors.

“I-I’ve never had anything so grand,” Claire whispered, looking up at Millie and Noah’s smiling faces. “I don’t know what to say.”

“No need to say anything, child,” the older woman replied briskly. “You’ll need those things to do your quilting, and any other sort of mending that your two menfolk are bound to bring you sooner or later. It was a practical gift, and that’s all there is to it.”

“Well, nonetheless, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I’ll cherish it always.”

Millie looked to Noah. “Well, if you’re still of a mind to help out, the cake and sour cherry pie are ready to carry to the town hall.”

Noah stood. “I’ll be glad to. Do you have everything else you’ll need?”

She nodded. “My sewing basket’s by the front door.” Millie turned to Claire. “Come along then, child. It’s past time you were meeting the other ladies.”

Claire stood, clutching her sewing basket to her. “Aye,” she replied, her heart so full of gratitude for a friend like Millie—and Noah, too, she realized—that she thought it might burst. “So it is.”

12

Is anything too hard for the Lord?

Genesis 18:14

The ride back home to Culdee Creek was strained and silent. Several times, as they headed out of town after picking up the load of corn from the feedlot, Evan tried to initiate some sort of conversation with Ian. The attempts, however, always died on his lips. The young man’s expression and physical demeanor presented as much an obstacle to pleasant conversation as any words ever could.

Ian sat there on the buckboard seat, a tight, shuttered look on his face. His arms clasped across his chest as if to protect himself and ward off any physical trespass. His legs were crossed, his body facing away from Evan.

Never, from the first day he had met the lad, had Evan seen Ian act like this. And he wouldn’t be now, Evan well knew, if
he
hadn’t said what he had said earlier. In an unthinking, almost reflexive response, he had all but accused Ian of having improper thoughts about Beth. In his belated attempt to finally become the brother his sister had always needed, Evan knew he had jeopardized—and probably unfairly—his relationship with Ian.

It was bad enough he had hurt Ian’s feelings in the doing. Then he had compounded the injury by upsetting Claire, too. She had quickly picked up on the under-current of masculine hostility. Her efforts to smooth over the raw feelings between her brother and husband had been painfully apparent. Thinking on it now, Evan was surprised she hadn’t immediately insisted on canceling her day with the quilting society to accompany them back home.

But maybe it was better that she hadn’t. This was a matter best settled between men, and, like it or not, Ian was fast approaching manhood. Problem was, how did one broach such a sensitive subject with an already sensitive boy?

Evan dragged in a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. He reined in the team at the side of the road. “Ian, turn around. Look at me. We need to talk.”

Most reluctantly, the lad turned to face him. Though he uncrossed his legs to do so, his arms remained folded across his chest. “What do you want to talk about?” he asked warily.

“I was out of line a while ago, when I all but jumped down your throat about Beth.” Evan sighed again, and shook his head. “I didn’t think. I just reacted like some dumb old lummox of a brother. I didn’t give you the benefit of the doubt, or even care to do so. For that I was wrong. For that I’m sorry.”

Ian eyed him cautiously. “I can understand your need to protect your sister. I can even accept that you might have wondered about my intentions. But still, you should’ve given me a chance. I did so with you, when it came to Claire.”

Remorse lanced through Evan. “Yes, you did, and that, I think, makes you the better man. There’s not much more I can say, though, except I’m sorry. That, and I hope you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me, give
me
another chance.”

“I do like Elizabeth, you know.” Ian bit his lip, glanced briefly away, then forced his gaze back to Evan’s. “In more than just a brotherly way. And I think she likes me in more than a sisterly way, too.”

Once more the anger swelled, and it took all of Evan’s self-control not to react negatively. When he had married Claire, he had tacitly if not legally also taken on responsibility for her brother. Ian was family now. If he didn’t tread carefully here, he might irreparably damage their relationship and turn the boy against him.

“So, you didn’t tell me the full truth back there, did you?” he asked with all the gentleness he could muster.

“Nay.” Ian hung his head. “I didn’t. I was afraid.”

Evan chuckled. “Well, I don’t know many men who would’ve, faced as they were with an irate brother. But you did tell the truth now, and I’m much obliged.”

“What will you do?” He looked up, searching Evan’s face. “Tell your father? Forbid Elizabeth to be with me?”

“Culdee Creek’s an awfully small place. I reckon it’d be mighty hard keeping you two apart.”

“It would be verra unfair, too. Elizabeth and I haven’t done aught wrong. We just like each other verra much.”

“I know.” Evan glanced down at the reins he held, studying the leather lines with great deliberation. His heart went out to the lad. Ian was entering a potentially turbulent and confusing, yet glorious time in his life.

It was a big responsibility—this chance to be a brother, if not actually a father to Ian. Yet such a charge required qualities Evan feared he might be insufficient in rendering, if indeed he didn’t totally lack them. It wasn’t as if his own father had been the perfect parent. Only since Abby had come into his life had Conor MacKay finally allowed the frozen block of his heart to thaw.

Still, surely the caring and effort involved would count for something.

“There’s a proper way to act around ladies,” Evan said. “An honorable, respectful way.” He paused to eye the boy intently. “Do you get my meaning here, Ian?”

“Aye.” He nodded. “You’re speaking of not taking improper liberties with Elizabeth. But I’d never do that. I swear it!”

“And I believe you, Ian. Still, if you’re willing, I’d like you to come to me, talk with me, whenever you’re confused or unsure what to do next.”

“I’d like to feel I
could
talk with you about aught,” Ian began carefully. “When we were in Culdee, I felt that way.”

“And now?” Evan prodded gently. “Now that you’re here?”

“Well, until today, I felt certain I could come to you—and I still wish to, mind you,” he hurried to say, “but if there were ever problems between Elizabeth and me, whose side would you take?”

“I’d try not to take sides, Ian,” Evan answered as honestly as he could. “I’d try to point out the possible consequences of your actions and the effects they could have on the rest of your life. A man should carefully consider these things, especially when it involves more than just himself. And a man needs to do what’s honorable, and be willing to take responsibility, too.”

“I want to make Claire proud of me. She’s suffered enough because of me.”