All the Blue of Heaven (11 page)

           
“Your hands!” Allie exclaimed, leaning forward. “They’re different!”

           
Thomas shook his head, confusion wrought on his face, then laughed out loud. “
My
hands are different?”

           
“The bones are heavier, and this tendon is so pronounced.” She turned his broad
hand over and back again. “Here, this muscle is much larger, isn’t it? The
callouses are not as thick, but they are still there.”

           
His laughter rang out, again, rich and deep. “Oh, the painter is still in residence.
Only an artist would notice the change of years on a man’s
hand.”          

           
Allie grinned, then felt her smile slowly sag. “This painter is retired.
Perhaps I do notice some things, but I will not paint again.”

           
Allie gasped as he snatched his hand from hers and jumped to his feet.

           
“What do you mean?” His voice was filled with shock.

         
“I... I will not paint again,” she repeated, her heart pounding in rhythm with
the rain outside.

           
“But why? Is it your hands? Perhaps we could find special gloves. You can order
supplies, more paint and easels, surely,” he said, his tone almost desperate.

           
Allie shook her head, her voice trembling as she said, “No, that fire destroyed
everything. It must be a sign from God. If even one painting had survived, I
could explain it all away. But the proof is too large. I aim to do what I
should have done in the beginning and marry someone with Mother’s approval.”

           
Thomas paced back and forth for a moment, his body tense. Then he ran a hand
through his thick hair in agitation and turned to face her.

           
“Do you mean to tell me that you believe God punished you for painting? Or,” he
fixed his gaze on her, “for the way you chose to live out West?”

           
Allie stood to face him, her voice tight with anger as she said, “I know what
the gossips have been saying but my lifestyle was as blameless as it was here.
I cared for Janey, painted, sold portraits, traveled a little, and taught two
students. There was a never a time that I did not live the way a Christian
woman should.” Her face was flaming but she hoped he couldn’t see it in the
flickering candle light.

           
Thomas groaned and slumped back into a chair. His head dropped into his hands
and he sat motionless. Then he lifted his head and took a breath, reaching out
to touch her hand.

           
“Allie, please forgive me. It’s just difficult when other people speak what
they insist is the truth.”

           
“But you, you of all people, should know it is not,” she said, her voice barely
over a whisper.

           
“Yes, you’re right. Please say you forgive me,” he said, his tone an agony of
remorse.

           
Allie folded into the chair next to him, grief like a hot coal in her throat.
“Of course. I cannot blame you for believing people who are here, when I have
been gone so long.”

           
“But why do you believe God is punishing you, if not for some sin?” He shook
his head, confused.

           
“I had a lot of time to think in the hospital, during the painful days I was
healing. My mother asked me to stay, and I refused. I was so intent on becoming
famous and earning a fortune. Janey has grown up in a studio, surrounded by oil
paint and canvas, instead of around other little girls and boys.” She turned to
him, eyes bright with tears.

           
“Don’t you see? Everything I have worked so hard for is gone, every painting is
burned. What other answer could there be?”

           
“You think because you didn’t follow your mother’s wishes, or follow mine, that
God destroyed an entire city?” His tone was incredulous.

           
The way he said it, the whole idea sounded bizarre. “Well, I’m certainly not
meant to spend my life painting. That much is clear.”

           
Thomas stood and walked to the door of the porch, staring out into the dark
night. The pouring rain had slowed to a steady patter.

           
“Is this why you don’t sing in church?”

           
She sucked in a breath, surprised.

           
“I noticed” he paused, still looking out at the blackness, “because you always
sang every hymn. Sang them in a sweet, clear voice I could hear all the way in
the back where I sat with my parents. I think I went most Sundays just to hear
you sing, Allie.”

           
“My throat is still raw from the smoke damage,” she said, hoping he would not
question her.

           
“But that’s not why you don’t sing... is it?” He spoke almost to himself, his
shoulders hunched, hands deep in his pockets.

           
Allie wanted to lie, wanted to make him believe the best of her, but somehow
the truth slipped out against her will. “No,” she whispered. She didn’t sing
because she wasn’t speaking to God, in song or otherwise.

           
“I don’t believe God meant to punish you, Allie. Terrible things happen all the
time.” He took a bracing breath and turned to her. The candle flickered for a
moment and his features jumped eerily. “I do believe that God brought you back
to us. I also believe that you were meant to go to San Francisco. I never
should have asked you to stay,” he said, his voice rough with emotion.

           
Allie nodded, her gaze unwavering. She dug her fingernails into her palms and
willed her tears to stay in check. Young love is so fickle, it waxes and wanes
like the moon. He regretted begging her to marry him, now that he was a man who
knew his own mind. It was hard to hear, but she was glad. Maybe now she could
let go of these feelings for him that were planted deep in her heart, with
roots a mile long like an old tree.

           
 “Everything has changed. We cannot go back eight years and become what we
were then,” he said.

           
Allie dropped her head, biting her lip. She knew that, had never been more
certain of that. Thomas would never feel the same way about her as he did when
she was hardly more than a girl. Those days of unwavering love had passed them
by forever.

           
“It was wrong of me. I never should have asked you to give up your dreams and
follow mine, no matter how much I loved you. But that is the past and it is
done. We must focus on the future.” His voice wavered on the last word but he
stood straight and tall, chin high. A smile touched his lips but Allie could
have sworn tears gleamed in the corners of his eyes.

           
“Miss Allie, Mr. Bradford! Tea’s ready,” Mrs. Gibson called, coming through the
kitchen.

           
“Please tell her I needed to return home.” He spread his hands mutely. The gesture
encompassed their whole conversation and the emotions that made the air feel
thick and hot.

           
Allie nodded, and he flicked open the latch on the screen door and walked out
into the steady rain. She sat motionless, emotions raging inside her.
No
matter how much I loved you... I loved you...
But that is the past...
      

           
When Mrs. Gibson appeared in the doorway, Allie stammered out an excuse for
him.

           
“He left his hat in the kitchen! And he went right out into the rain without
it? We would have loaned him an umbrella.” Mrs. Gibson clucked her tongue and
planted her hands on her hips. “Men. They say
we
have no sense.
Honestly!”

           
Allie kept silent, hoping Mrs. Gibson wouldn’t ask about their conversation. The
housekeeper was much too gentle for that, although she did give Allie a few
sharp glances.

           
After only a few sips of the strong tea she begged to go upstairs, assuring
Mrs. Gibson that she was fine.

           
She crawled into bed some time later and lay on her back, staring at the
ceiling. Thomas’s handkerchief was tucked into a small cedar box on her night
stand. Her heart yearned to form a prayer, to pour out her confusion and
misery, but she clamped down tight on the impulse. Turning from side to side,
she fought for sleep, seeking peace where there was none to be had.

                                   
     ****

           
Thomas strode away from the porch, barely noticing the rain that beat against
his face and clothes. The thunder rumbled in the distance and he paused as he
reached the automobile, one hand on the cold metal handle. The storm was moving
away and the deafening cracks of thunder would not be a problem for Allie now.
Still he wrestled against the fierce desire to stay, to keep her warm and safe.

           
Gripping the handle with renewed urgency, Thomas swung open the door and
launched himself into the driver’s seat. He slammed the door so vigorously the
metal protested with a sharp bang. His clothes dripped onto the leather seats
and he wiped the rain out of his eyes. Then he rested his forehead against the
wheel and groaned.

           
All that talk about being Allie’s friend, of helping her settle in to her home
again, was a lie. He needed to admit the truth to himself before he made a
bigger disaster than he already had. The truth was that he had never stopped
loving her. When he heard she was coming home, he told himself that it was the
right thing, the Christian thing, to offer his friendship. He had done his best
to be useful and offer support. But deep inside he toyed with the idea that
perhaps, just perhaps, Allie would fall in love with him, too.

           
He gritted his teeth and raised his head, staring out into the downpour. The
rain pounded on the windscreen and ran down the glass in rivulets. He had acted
like a child, not a man, by saying one thing and working for another. Allie
didn’t need deception or a friend with a hidden plan. She needed a man who was
strong enough to tell her the truth, especially when that man intended to make
her his bride.

           
Thomas cranked the starter and allowed the engine to warm up before he turned
onto the long, dark driveway. At least he had spoken truthfully at the end. She
knew at this moment, what he had hidden from her and from himself.  He had
not planned to declare himself or discuss that night so long ago. On the porch,
her story came tumbling out and her loss of faith made his heart ache. She
trusted him to hear her fears and doubts, to not condemn her. And her honesty
brought out his own.

           
Thomas tried to recall his exact words but only remembered Allie’s eyes, wide
and luminous in the candle light. She had dropped her head when he apologized
for the way he had proposed that night. She did not speak, but he was glad he
had told her he was planning on the future. She needed to understand that he
was not going to let her be married off to Bascomb or any other man in Chicago.

           
Lord, be with Allie tonight. Wrap her in Your arms and give her Your peace
,
Thomas prayed fervently as he pulled up in front of his home. He desperately
wished to make her see that God was not punishing her, but that was something
that Allie must realize for herself.

Chapter
Nine

           
“Auntie?” Janey whispered, her little head poking in the doorway and startling
Allie. She was sitting at the small toilette table brushing her hair and
wishing it was long and blond like it had been before.

           
“Yes, sweetie?” She turned and motioned little Janey inside. “What’s wrong?”

           
“Nothing, I just wondered if I could come in.” The little girl came in, shyly
clutching a small stuffed bear, white nightgown brushing her bare toes.

           
“Of course, you can always come in,” Allie said. Janey had never asked
permission to enter her room before. They lived in perfect comfort with each
other, without shyness or fear.

           
Janey stood at Allie’s elbow, beautiful curls falling to the middle of her
back.

           
“Aren’t your feet cold, Janey?” Allie cast a glance at the little toes that peeped
out from under patterned edge of the nightgown. The storm from the night before
had faded to a gray and rainy day.

           
“Sure, they are.” Janey said simply, still gazing at Allie in her fixed way.

           
She laughed and gathered the tiny girl in her arms. “Let’s get those toes
warmed up,” she growled, pretending to be an angry mama bear. Janey had always
loved that game and how Allie wrapped her in a hug and put on her lowest,
gruffest voice.

           
In one swift movement, she plopped Janey into the deep goose down bed and
snuggled in beside her. “Just keep those cold toes over there, my bear cub,”
she said, snuffling into Janey’s hair.

           
Janey giggled and writhed, pretending that the mama bear was too big and strong
to resist.

           
“Ouch!” Allie froze, releasing Janey from her grip.

           
“Auntie, did I hurt you?” Janey’s voice trembled with fear and worry.

           
“No, no, sweetie. I just twisted my thumb...” Allie tried to smile, but her
hand ached where Janey’s little knee had connected against it with a crack.

           
“We shouldn’t play mama bear and baby bear any more. You’ll get hurt,” Janey
said solemnly.

           
Allie sat up in the bed and plopped a pillow behind her back. She snuggled
Janey against her side and took a breath.

           
“It’s true that I have to be more careful, but life won’t be any fun if we stop
doing everything that we loved before, right?”

           
Janey grinned, a gap showing where she had lost her first tooth a month ago.
“Right.” Then her smile faded a little, her gaze dropped to the embroidered
quilt under her small hands.

           
“What is it?” Allie put a finger under the little chin and tilted Janey’s head
so she would meet her eyes.

           
“Well... Maggie said that you wouldn’t want me coming into your bed at night.
That if I’m scared I should hold this stuffed bear instead.” Her small voice
seemed to grow even smaller as she spoke.

           
Allie felt a surge of red hot anger wash over her. She struggled to keep her
voice steady as she looked Janey in the eye and said, “You are always welcome.
Always. Do you understand? I don’t care if it’s midnight or noon. I won’t mind
if I’m at dinner or just reading or staring out the window or having tea or
talking or...” She shook her head, wishing she could think of every scenario
that would ever occur. “You may always, always come to me.”

           
Janey laughed, relief shone from her face. “Even if you’re on the porch with
Mr. Bradford?”

           
Allie gaped. “You mean, like last night? Did you wake up during the storm?”

           
Janey nodded. “The thunder was so loud and I was scared, but Maggie said she
went to find you but you were talking to Mr. Bradford on the porch. She gave me
this bear to hug instead.”

           
Allie struggled to stay calm. She wanted to whip back the covers and march
downstairs to find Maggie. She wanted to shake that girl until her teeth
rattled.

           
“Sweetie, I’m so sorry. I told her to come find me if you woke up. Nobody comes
before you. Not Grandma Leeds. Not Mr. Bradford. Nobody. Understand?” Her heart
was pounding so hard she struggled to take a deep breath.

           
Janey sighed and leaned into Allie’s side, her warm little body relaxing as she
nestled her head against her shoulder.

           
They stayed that way for a while, snuggled deep under the quilt. Janey wondered
what they would do that day and Allie spent several minutes making up silly
plans like joining a pirate gang, just to hear Janey laugh.

           
“Miss Hathaway?” Maggie knocked lightly on the door and peered inside.

           
“Yes, we’re both in here,” Allie said, hoping her face didn’t show her anger at
the sight of the young servant girl.

           
“Mrs. Leeds would like you both to come down for breakfast in half an hour.”
Her eyes flicked to Janey’s blond head resting on Allie’s feather pillows.

           
“Thank you,” Allie said sitting up. She hoped she was doing the right thing by
addressing the issue at the moment.

           
“Maggie, I’d like to say something, please come in,” she began. “Last night I
asked you to find me if Janey woke up.”

           
“Yes, Miss, but when I heard you on the porch I didn’t want to interrupt, so I
gave Janey that bear to hold.” She nodded, sincerity in her soft brown eyes.

           
Allie to find the words she needed. “I asked you to come find me. Janey was
frightened during the storm, but I never knew it. I would have come upstairs
immediately.”

           
“Yes, but you were with Mr. Bradford,” Maggie repeated, frowning now. She bit
her lip anxiously and Allie suddenly felt sure that Maggie had meant no harm.

           
“Maggie, please understand that where Jane is concerned, I will always want to
know. It does not matter what I am doing, or where I am going, or with whom I
am speaking.” She leveled a narrow-eyed gaze at the young servant. “Do you
understand?”

           
Maggie blushed deep scarlet and nodded. “Yes, Miss. I’m sorry.”

           
Allie let out a breath. “Let us put this behind us. We are all new at this
situation, and it will take time to adjust to the ways in this house.” She
smiled and Maggie smiled back, her chin trembling slightly.

           
“Did your parents ever let you come to them during a thunderstorm, Maggie?”
Allie asked.

           
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Oh no, Miss! My father would lay a strap to any
one of us that got up during the night.”

           
“The strap?” Allie frowned. “That seems a bit harsh.”

           
“He is very partial to the strap. Still is.” Something in Maggie’s voice sent
alarm bells ringing for Allie.

           
“Still is? You have little brothers or sisters?”

           
“Yes, Miss. I have four younger brothers and three younger sisters.”

           
“Oh, my,” Allie laughed. “You must be surrounded by small people all the time.”

           
Maggie’s smile was tight. “My ma isn’t well. We older ones help out as we can.”

           
Allie’s gaze dropped, knowing the pain behind that smile. ‘I’m sorry to hear
that.”

           
“Thank you, Miss.”

           
“Please tell my mother we’ll be down.”

           
 Maggie nodded and backed out of the door, closing it softly behind her.

           
“Are we going into town today?,” Janey asked

           
Allie frowned. “No, I don’t think so. There are things to be done here.”

           
“I wanted to buy some more pencils. You remember?” Janey’s blue eyes were
bright with energy.

           
“Oh, well... Janey, we should discuss that. You see,” here Allie sat away from
her niece so she could look her in the face, “Grandma Leeds doesn’t really like
drawing. She may not be happy with us if we sketch and paint like we did at
home.”

           
Janey blinked up at her, silent.

           
“So, how about we do other things that she does approve of, like embroidery and
sewing?”

           
“Embroidery?” Janey frowned, a tiny crease forming between her eyes. “Do you
like embroidery, Auntie?”

           
“Not really, but it wouldn’t hurt me to work on some once in a while. Now that
we’re here in her house, we should make an effort to get along, don’t you think?”

           
“Yes.” Janey plucked at a string in her stuffed bear’s little paw. “But
shouldn’t she be trying to get along with us, too?”

           
Allie coughed, smothering a laugh. “Yes, sweetie, that’s true. But little by
little we will learn to accept each other. And for now, we should wait before
we buy more sketching charcoals.”

           
A small sigh left Janey’s lips and she nodded. “I suppose. But you had better
start painting again soon.”

           
“Why is that?”

           
“Because that’s what you do, Auntie. Remember? You’re a painter,” Janey said,
her tone like a patient parent reminding a forgetful child.

           
Allie was silent for a moment, rubbing the little girl’s soft arm and staring
at the window near the bed. Drops slid down the glass pane, leaving a
constantly changing pattern.

           
“Maybe that was what I was in San Francisco, but not here.”

           
“Didn’t you paint and draw when you lived here? Mr. Bradford said you had a
sketching room upstairs.”

           
“Yes, I did.” Allie felt frustration rising in her and wished the little girl
was more docile. That questioning spirit will serve her well later, but not
here in this house. “But that was a long time ago. Let’s just say that we’ll
take everything slowly, okay? We can settle in and then we can decide what we
want to do next.”

           
“Okay,” Janey said, burrowing under the quilt again and wrapping her arms
around Allie’s waist.

           
She gave her a loud kiss on the top of her blond head and said, “Time to get
out and get dressed or Grandma Leeds will play Mama Bear for real.”

           
Janey giggled and struggled out of the blankets, standing on the end of the bed
and jumping a few times.

           
“Oh no! Mama Bear will eat me!”

           
“Hurry and run to your cave, little bear,” Allie called out, laughing.

           
Janey leaped from the end of the bed and ran for the door, shrieking with
laughter. After a few moments, Allie steeled herself and get out of bed for the
second time that morning.

           
Everything is changed. We cannot go back eight years and become what we were
then.
Thomas’s words floated back to her from the night before. She stood
before the mirror, looking at her pale face and the purple shadows under her
eyes. Yes, everything was changed, there was no going back. And facing the
future took a strength that was almost more than she could muster. Tears
threatened to spill from the corners of her eyes and she felt despair wash over
her.

           
For just a moment, she remembered how she used to start every morning with a
prayer. Mrs. Gibson taught her when she was very small. It was a prayer for
strength and wisdom, that all her work that day be pleasing to God. Allie shook
her head. It was a useless prayer. A whole lifetime of praying those words and
God chose to give His opinion after she had poured her heart into her work for
almost a decade.

           
Allie tugged on a dress with short, angry jerks. He could have said something
earlier. She paused in the act of drawing on her gloves. Maybe He had, but she
hadn’t listened. The thought of all those years wasted made her hands tremble.
Fine, she was listening now. Her whole future was wide open to anything He had
planned for her. Whether it was Mr. Bascomb or endless mid-winter balls or even
staying in this rambling old mansion for the rest of her life, that’s what she
would do. Her lips set in an angry thin line, she stalked out of the room and
down to breakfast.

         
“I was just beginning to wonder if we should bring you breakfast in bed,” Mrs.
Gibson said, bustling around the table and pulling out Allie’s chair. The table
was set with the everyday china. A twining green vine of ivy circled the
circled the main centerpiece of pink cabbage roses.

           
She settled into her chair with a smile, but Allie’s stomach was churning.
“Why? I’m not sick, I feel perfectly well.”

           
“Of course, of course, dear,” the stout housekeeper patted her on the shoulder
and unfolded the fine linen napkin. She moved to lay it on Allie’s lap but she
snatched it away with a frown.

           
“I said I’m perfectly well,” she snapped, smoothing the napkin over her skirt.
She glanced up in time to see her mother’s face filled with concern and Janey’s
wide eyes. “I mean, thank you, but I can manage.” She grimaced inwardly. This
was not a good start to the morning. She needed to put her aches and pains out
of her mind. It wasn’t like her to let her temper lead her tongue. Mrs. Gibson
sat gingerly in her chair and took a sip of her tea. Her eyes were downcast and
Allie knew she had wounded the elderly housekeeper.

           
“Mrs. Gibson,” she said, “I wanted to thank you for those wonderful bath oils.
The lavender essence has solved my sleep difficulties in just a few nights.”

           
A smile creased her face and Mrs. Gibson said, “You’re very welcome, dear! Mrs.
Winston told me the lavender is good for renewing weary spirits.”

           
“Mother, what do you think I should wear to the mayor’s picnic?” Allie flashed
a bright smile down to the end of the table.