Leave it for the Rain: A Love She Couldn't Remember—A Woman He Couldn't Forget (Grayson Brothers Book 6) (17 page)

Mary Crane arrived at the house a full forty minutes before the start of Sunday service. She came in style aboard a sleek Phaeton Basket, and she managed the reins of her saddlebred mare, Josie, on her own.

Rebecca, who had stepped outside to cut a few stalks of snapdragons to place on the picnic tables after church, put the pruning scissors and basket of flowers aside and headed down the shelled walk to greet her. When she saw Mary’s magnificent horse and sporty carriage it made her think of the livery back home and her own beautiful mare she’d left behind. She missed Star and also her parents and siblings, but she knew it was impossible to go back yet.

Greeting her newfound friend, Rebecca watched as Mary climbed out of the phaeton with ease. Tall and resplendent in a small-bustled silk day gown patterned with tiny roses and complimented by a rose-colored belt cinched around her slender waist, Mary appeared every inch the daughter of the town’s most beloved patron. Her dark hair was swept up into a pleasing style and crowned with a fashionable feathered hat that matched her gown.

The more Rebecca learned about Mary, the better she liked her. She harbored a wildly independent spirit that Rebecca aspired to while at the same time she carried the pain of loss that resonated with Rebecca. Mary Crane had been married only a year when her husband, Peter, an older man and captain of one of the Crane’s merchant vessels, had died unexpectedly while picking up cargo in the Cayman Islands.

“Rebecca, is your grandmother not joining us this morning?” Mary asked.

“She received a more pleasing proposition from your uncle Dawson,” Rebecca said, unable to hold back a smile.

Mary arched her shapely eyebrow. “Uncle Dawson is calling on your grandmother?”

“They seem to have become fast friends. He has become a frequent visitor.”

“Why... that’s wonderful. I can hardly wait to see my father’s face when I tell him that Uncle Dawson is courting your grandmother.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t carry their friendship that far, Mary. Not yet anyhow.” Rebecca motioned to the basket of flowers she’d left at the doorstep. “If you give me just a moment, I’ll get my parasol as well as the snapdragons I gathered to place on the tables.”

“Oh, no need to hurry. May I walk in with you? I should love to see your kitten.”

“Of course,” Rebecca said, leading the way up the shelled walk. “Jojo is sleeping in her bed. It’s just an old crate on the kitchen floor, but she seems to like it.”

The scent of summer and ocean wrapped about them, and once again Rebecca found herself amazed by her surroundings. The morning sun sparkled bright against the white house with its bevy of windows that faced the wide flowing river—four on the first floor, five on the second floor, and three smaller windows at the attic level. She loved the house and was deeply contented with lazy evenings on the back porch talking with her grandmother and Adam and playing with Jojo.

She led the way through the front door and into the front parlor, which was one of her favorite rooms with its cheerful wallpaper and Queen Anne style furniture.

 “That’s always been one of my favorite pieces,” Mary said, gesturing at the roll-top desk in the far corner of the room.

“Mine too,” Rebecca said. “In fact, I found something inside that must belong to your family.” She crossed the room and opened the desk. From inside one of the cubby hole compartments now revealed, she pulled forth an old hymnal. “I’ve meant to ask you about this, but details such as this seem to slip my mind so easily.”

Mary’s mouth opened on a breathy laugh. “So
this
is where it’s been hiding. This belonged to one of Princess Cecily’s daughters,” she exclaimed, glancing at Rebecca. “Mother and I thought it long lost. Now that I know it’s in gentle hands I’d like to offer it for your use while you are in Crane Landing.”

“Oh, my—thank you,” Rebecca said, truly touched by Mary’s warmth and generosity. “I would very much enjoy using it during my stay here. I’m afraid my memory isn’t so good just now. The hymnal will allow me to sing along today.”

Mary’s expression flattened. “I’m dreadfully sorry about your accident. I can only imagine how difficult all of this is for you.”

Rebecca nodded. “Having a friend lightens my heart considerably,” she said, clasping Mary’s gloved hand.

“As does your friendship,” Mary replied. “Thank you for your honesty, Rebecca. Let’s turn our thoughts to more enjoyable topics on this sunny Sunday morning. This book has been handed down in my family from one generation to the next. As a boy, my father carried it to service every Sunday. In fact, he and my mother used to use it when they were courting to pass notes back and forth during services.”

Rebecca smiled. “I can only imagine how excited they must have been to turn its pages and find each other’s notes.”

“Sometimes a little too excited,” Mary said as her eyes brightened with laughter. “Mother says she was scolded more than a few times for having the book open to the wrong hymn at the wrong time.” Laughing, Mary gave a small shake of her head. “It astonishes me to think of my parents as young lovers, but I suppose it shouldn’t. They are still very much in love.”

Rebecca nodded. The love between Georgia and Eliza Crane was obvious and enviable. “Adam said we once shared a love like that, but I can’t remember it,” Rebecca confessed to her friend. “It’s hard knowing I lost something so beautiful.”

“I understand only too well,” Mary said softly.

Rebecca grimaced. “Of course you do. I’m so sorry.”

Mary nodded and glanced at the hymnal in Rebecca’s nervous grip. “You’ll find songs of joy and of sorrow in that book. They are life’s songs, Rebecca. No one who lives can escape heartache or pain. You and I are both living examples of this. My hope is that you are finding great joy and healing here at Crane Landing.”

“I am.” Rebecca grasped the hymnal with both hands. “This place speaks to me,” she whispered, holding the old book tight. She ran the pads of her gloved thumbs up and down the roughly textured binding of the hymnal. “It’s as if Princess Cecily’s courageous spirit permeates everything around me.” The gold leaf of the title blurred as tears rose in her eyes. “My attempt to get on with my life seems puny compared to her effort.”

“You’ve known great hardship lately,” Mary said, compassion filling her voice. “Lightning has struck your life; that’s what GG, my Great-great-granddaddy Crane, would say if he were alive. He lived in this house once. In fact, this very room was once struck by lightning. But he never thought about what was taken. Instead, he focused on what remained and he rebuilt this part of the house. Though the lightning and rain took a good portion of it, the rooms and chimney that survived were strong and proved their worth again and again.”

Rebecca lifted her chin, wondering if she could find the cornerstones of her life and rebuild from there.

“Lightning is not a bad thing,” Mary continued. “It may seem destructive, but it’s also magnificent and powerful. Paired with the rain it helps the grass and trees and other plants grow. I believe you’re growing now... and soon you will bloom into whatever new color your blossoms will be.”

Rebecca shifted her gaze to her new friend. Pressing the hymnal close to her chest, she nodded. “Thank you,” she whispered, “for sharing the songs and the story... for your keen understanding... and most of all for your friendship.”

Mary sent her a warm smile. “I feel as if I’ve finally gotten a sister.” She hugged Rebecca and stepped back. “We should go on to the service now. We don’t want to be late. May I come back sometime to see Jojo?”

“Nothing would please me more. You are welcome here anytime, my dear friend.”

Rebecca and Mary headed back outside to the sun-splashed morning. Josie and the Phaeton Basket waited for them at the end of the shelled walkway. Shading themselves beneath Rebecca’s parasol, they talked of lighter things during the exhilarating ride to the church.

The fleet four-wheeled carriage with its high-backed bench sat two. Built with sophistication and agility in mind, it was the perfect vehicle for a sprightly morning ride. The freedom Rebecca felt in the lively phaeton made her spirit soar. Mary handled her horse and reins with gentle authority, which eliminated the need for a groomsman and the dickie seat that had been folded under the bench for the day. In its stead was a large wicker picnic basket, no doubt filled with hearty servings of all manner of food for the day’s picnic.

By the time they reached the church, which was situated above the river and overlooked the crescent-shaped harbor, Rebecca was eager to see Adam. He had offered to walk her to the service this morning, but Rebecca wanted to make friends here. Riding and chatting with Mary during their morning ride was the perfect opportunity to do that.

Built of fieldstone and timber, the church boasted a breathtaking structure of high windows and a soaring steeple that could doubtless be seen by fishermen and sailors far out at sea.

“You’re in for a treat today,” Mary said, bringing the phaeton to a stop. “The service will be held outdoors this morning since work on the new roof isn’t finished yet. The congregation will meet down by the river,” she explained as she disembarked. She retrieved her own parasol from beneath the bench, and then she left Josie and the picnic basket in the capable care of Mr. and Mrs. Watson who tended the church. The missus would oversee the food for the coming picnic, while the mister would tend to the horses during the service.

The church bell pealed, calling all to worship. Rebecca spied a number of people heading for a shaded area down near the water’s edge, where several benches and chairs were in place for the congregation to sit, and a podium for the minister to utilize. She and Mary headed for the footpath, but several “yoo-hoos” and friendly waves soon had her friend waylaid. Rebecca waited while Mary was eventually pulled away by Mina Austin, who was presenting several questions and a few ideas for the upcoming grange dance planned as part of the Independence Day celebration.

From beneath the shade of her parasol, Rebecca scanned the crowd for Adam and watched as more members of the congregation arrived in buggies, on foot, and on horseback. They greeted each other with wide smiles and a true interest in sharing all the news from the past week. Many nodded or smiled in Rebecca’s direction and quite a few people paused to chat with her. These folks had few expectations of her, which allowed her to relax and enjoy their company, unlike how she’d felt during her last Sunday in Fredonia. She truly felt a part of this community and the ocean-side town.

When Mary was pulled into yet another conversation, she waved to Rebecca and promised she wouldn’t be more than a few more minutes, at which time they could finally get seated for the service.

“I’ll find my own place,” Rebecca called back, meaning to ease Mary’s mind, but those words rang like church bells in her own mind, heralding something important she needed to pay attention to. She could find her own place; not only here at this service, but in this beautiful community at Crane Landing.

Lost in her own uplifting thoughts, Rebecca strolled with the other parishioners along the graveled walk that threaded its way around the church and alongside the cemetery. Banked on all sides by a timber and fieldstone fence, the place appeared a peaceful oasis beyond the front wrought iron gate.

Following her own path, Rebecca stopped a moment and let the other members of the congregation move past her as she peered through the gate. The largest stone marker, situated in the middle of the small cemetery and from which all other markers seemed to flow outward, held the Crane name etched upon it in large letters.

Drawn to the monument, Rebecca lifted the latch of the gate and stepped inside the cemetery. She moved past stone after stone reading the names and dates on them as she headed toward the magnificent Crane marker. The names became more than just etchings in stone, especially when the birth and death dates denoted a tragically short life. When she at last reached the Crane stone, she knew she was in the heart of the family’s burial plot. Names she’d heard since she’d arrived at Crane Landing were suddenly all around her.

The largest of the stones belonged to John “Jack” Crane and Eliza Quincy Crane—the very couple who had made certain that Crane Landing prospered following the Revolution. Alongside their stones were the monuments for their children: sons Nicholas, Gabriel, Samuel, and Owen; and daughters Lucinda, Katherine, Julia, Bethany, and Daphne. The many sons-and daughters-in-law were buried here as well... including Princess Cecily.

Rebecca nearly wept when she found Cecily’s stone alongside that of her husband, Gabriel “Gabe” Crane. Kneeling, her gloved fingers trembling, Rebecca touched her hand to the etched name of Princess Cecily, glad to see that she and her husband had lived a long life together.

“I wish I had known you, Princess. Both of you evoke such love in my breast. I admire your courage and how the two of you made a beautiful home for your family,” Rebecca whispered, needing to speak what was in her heart. “I’m a visitor to your former home, and I feel an echo of the deep love you had for each other and your children. I promise to tend to the house and the land with loving hands as long as I am here.” She paused a moment, swallowing past the emotion welling within her. When she could speak again, she whispered, “Princess Cecily, I promise to do my best to rebuild my life and face the future with as much courage as you once did.”