Rumors and Promises (29 page)

Sophia’s anguish washed over her with an ill feeling. “But I didn’t lead him on. I tell you the truth—there was no sin on my part. I cried out. I couldn’t get away.” She knelt in front of the family patriarch. “Please, Papa, please believe me.” Her vision had blurred with a flood of tears. “Please.”

She shook herself as she scraped the biscuit pan with a spatula. Ever since that day, she questioned her heart. Had she given Charles the wrong idea? He’d been handsome, charming, and attentive. He’d even gone to church with them occasionally. In her girlhood fancies, she dreamed someone like that would come along and take her for a wife.

Charles had told enchanting stories, listened to her hopes and dreams as they sat on the back porch, in full view of everyone. He seemed to seek her friendship because he enjoyed her company, not because of her family or their fortune. Charles even told her a tale of heroic proportions—one that caused Sophie to want to touch the scar slanted across his cheek, which he said he’d earned defending an innocent woman’s honor. When she had placed her fingertips ever so lightly on the raised spot, she hoped to connect with him in sympathy.

But there was one evening as twilight arrived when he had put his arm around her and held her more tightly than she liked. Something about his closeness made her feel trapped, and his hungry kisses aroused fear in her. Something was wrong. She pulled away and went into the house. She wasn’t trying to be coy, but a flicker of anger in his eyes that night frightened her. Sophie had tried to keep her distance until that wretched day he had deceived her. She continued to scrape away at the metal sheet
and shivered. Truly, Charles had been a master at manipulating her emotions. She shivered at the thought of ever being in his grip again. During her short stay in the Lansing area when Caira was but a few months old, Sophie left as soon as she’d heard that a man of his description had been asking about them.

Maggie came in. “You’re going to scrape a hole right through the bottom of that pan.” She stirred the stew in the large saucepot.

Sophie glanced at her friend, so glad to be pulled back into the present. She met the mirth in Maggie’s eyes, much like Ian’s. “I suppose you’re right. I best get this dinner on the table.” She wiped her hands on her white cotton apron and looked around for the soup tureen. White paint on the ceiling, as well as sunny yellow on the walls, had been peeling for some time.

She almost tripped on the buckled edge of the threadbare rug when she carried a tray of food into the dining room.

Maggie clucked behind her. “You know, the more time I spend here, helping you, I realize how much this place has deteriorated.”

Sophie spooned the hearty brown stew into a bowl for Mr. Graemer. “The thing is, Mrs. Fairgrave has a heart of gold. She took Caira and me in though we were strangers.” She placed the bowl on a tray with a soupspoon and a biscuit, so she could take it to him. “People like Mr. Graemer need a place to stay, and she would never turn them out though they can hardly pay a thing.”

“I can see that for sure.” Her friend set out some butter she had taken from the icebox. “And she’s never taken charity, I understand.”

“No.” Sophie shook her head and paused. “But if she’s not here right now, why can’t we do something? She’ll have to accept it if it’s already done.”

“Why didn’t I think of that myself?” Maggie’s eyes brightened. “I’ll talk to Ian about it tonight.”

Sophie placed a hand on her arm. “No, Maggie. Please let me do this for Esther.” Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to have an excuse to talk to Ian, to thank him for sticking up for her earlier that day.

Ian paced outside that evening. He had read Caira a bedtime story and then he had turned his thoughts toward Sunday morning’s sermon. The black sky hung as the backdrop of countless sparkling yellow gems. “The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament showeth his handiwork,” he whispered into the nighttime quiet as he faced the stars.

“Ian.”

“Oh, Sophie, I didn’t hear you come out.” In the glowing moonlight, he could make out her creamy complexion as she stood before him in one of his sister’s altered cloaks. Maggie had insisted that she replace her tattered shawl.

“What can I do for you?”

“It’s not so much what you can do for me though Caira and I would also benefit.” She sounded rather breathy, nervous.

“Go on.”

“Though Esther considers the boardinghouse a business, you and I know that much charity goes on there.” She spoke up now. Her tone was firm. “With her gone, do you think that we could get some folks from the church to fix it up?”

Ian wasn’t sure what he had expected her to say, but he felt disappointed. He’d hoped Sophie would finally confide her deepest secret to him. He exhaled, longing to understand the gulf that remained between them, affecting their friendship.

Her amber eyes shone in the moonlight like two beacons in the darkness surrounding them. She moved a bit closer.

“Ah, well.” He couldn’t take the brightness of those eyes anymore unless he claimed the privilege of a beloved one in looking upon them. He wasn’t ready for that, especially with a woman who couldn’t fully trust him. He turned away, his face again toward the stars, toward heaven, seeking help to overcome temptation.

“Ian?” Her gentle voice touched his heart.

He took a deep breath and faced her once more with his hands clasped behind his back. “Yes, I agree something needs to be done. Maggie chatters about it every time she has visited Esther. I notice the outside every time I go by. I’ll bring it before the elder board, and I’m sure that we’ll be able to get a committee together.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?” A soft breeze wisped around them. It seemed that Sophie stood closer than a moment before, and he could hear her breathing. It was almost as though he could listen to her heart, but then, perhaps he heard his own.

“For being willing to help Esther.” Now he could feel her breath. “And for sticking up for me a couple of days ago. I’m sorry for accusing you of letting Gertrude off the hook when she was acting so spiteful in front of the mercantile. After all, she was part of your congregation before I was. I—”

“No! There is no excuse for the way she behaved. She is a troubled woman, I’m sure. She’s bitter, no doubt, about past misfortunes, but she should not be taking things out on you.”

Before Ian realized it, he had put a hand on her shoulder in sort of a brotherly gesture. How long had it been since he was close enough to smell the fragrance of her hair? He had when she was sick and he’d carried her. He had felt the warmth of her closeness then. Yet the longing to had compelled him to stay away while she abided under his roof.

“Is … is there anything else you want to tell me?” Ian gazed again into those eyes, wanting to somehow will her to tell him everything, draw every hidden piece of truth from the depth of her heart.

Sophie stepped back. Her arms crossed in front of her as she shivered. “It’s just that Caira and I needed friends. You … and Maggie … have been so good to us. It’s more than I deserve, more than I expected.”

How could he not defend her against that awful woman? “We need to be your friends as much as you may need our friendship. It’s not about deserving, it’s about God’s grace.” He deserved the friendship of this beautiful young woman less than anyone. But for the secrets of her true identity and relationship to Caira, she was guileless.

“I guess I should have expected you to say that.” Her airy, evasive laughter followed. “Good night, Ian.”

“Have a good rest, Sophie.” She had pulled out from under his gentle grasp and strode toward the house. All that she left behind was that flowery scent and the warmth of her shoulder under his hand. She might not be running like a frightened animal, but still she didn’t seem to quite trust him. Why? Because he was a man? Surely all the time they’d spent together under the parsonage roof would’ve shown her he was more than trustworthy. He’d never treated her differently—beyond friendship. He compared their relationship to family. That was all.

But a faceless, nameless man divided them by his evil attack on Sophie. Ian’s jaw tightened along with his fists. Anger fueled the hatred in his heart, yet such feelings were counterproductive. Praying for Sophie’s healing would be more profitable. He would master this, forgive the man, and wait patiently to earn the right to become Sophie’s confidant.

Sophie hung the cloak on a peg and ran up the stairs to the small guest room. Her heart pounded faster than the rhythm of her feet on the stairs. She closed the door behind her and leaned against it inside her dark room. “Oh, yes,” she whispered into the dark and clasped her hands together. Esther would have the improvements she needed. While she was overjoyed for her friend, other feelings vied for her attention.

Sophie touched her shoulder for a moment. Did she imagine the encompassing heat coursing clear through? She sighed. One moment she closed her eyes and savored the feeling. The next, her stomach wrenched with nervousness. She knew, as though by instinct, Ian was trustworthy. He’d never given her cause to believe he was anything else.

Did she fear becoming too close to him and having to tell the truth? If she did, the relationship would end anyway. They could never be more than dear friends. Yet somehow she also realized the fact in her heart; her feelings went much deeper than that.

Sophie put her head in her hand and sat on the edge of the bed. A shaft of moonlight pushed through the opening between the two blousy muslin curtains. Ian still stood outside in the yard, under the same moon. The kindness in his voice, the touch on her shoulder, and the tilt of his head all seemed to speak of his concern for her when they talked.

A part of her wanted so much to have his admiration, to believe that he could care. He had been charmed by Caira’s antics and showed true affection for her little girl. Yet if he knew Sophie was a defiled imposter, would he care for either of them? Perhaps Ian would pity her and continue to be concerned about Caira, but as pastor of Stone Creek Community Church, he couldn’t be closely associated with her romantically. How many people in Detroit, Pontiac, or Greenville, who’d learned her story, had called her a tramp or worse?

She worked at redeeming her reputation from the horrible crime that had been committed upon her. How Sophie wanted to believe that God wasn’t going to punish her or Caira. Had the assault been her fault? Had she somehow tempted Charles? Many people had made her feel so cheap and looked upon her with suspicion. She wanted to live an honorable life. Was this enough in God’s eyes?

As a child, she had asked Jesus to be her Savior from her sins, accepting God’s forgiveness. With her mother and brother, she had ministered her gift of music in many churches. Sophie had utilized her talent to her fullest ability. Why had God let such awful things happen to her? Why had most Christian people in her social circle turned against her in her time of need? Caira had done nothing to deserve such rejection.

The child’s even breathing caught her attention. How peaceful she looked with her eyes closed and curls framing her face. She popped a thumb in her mouth.

Sophie had to smile. Her beautiful little angel slept, unaware of the hatred and cruelty in the world for the moment. She would do her best to protect her daughter as long as she could. Sophie tucked the blanket tighter around Caira.

This life of hiding was bondage, but the burden of caring for the child was sometimes forgotten when generous hugs were placed around Sophie’s neck, when the child said, “Love ’ou,” and blew her kisses.