0764214101 (2 page)

“Do
not
call me ‘Grandfather’ with that tone that always got you whatever you wanted whenever your grandmother was alive. I will disown you and never speak to you again.” He waved at her as if in dismissal.

Lillian stiffened her shoulders. All these years . . . she’d put up with his bullying and anger because she loved him. She knew he was grieved over his loss, but she always hoped and prayed that one day, maybe, he’d allow her
real
grandfather to take up residence again.

“If that’s what you wish.” She thought of all the angry things she might say to wound him as much as he was wounding her. But she didn’t want to hurt him or anyone else.

Her grandfather looked up at her, the scowl still lining his forehead, tears dampening his eyes. His grief radiated in waves off of him for all to feel. The man’s misery was of his own doing.
Rather than sharing in their grief together, he shut Lillian—and everyone else—out. In denying himself love and relationships, he’d found security in his anger and sorrow. As he turned his back toward her again, his shoulders slumped.

Lillian wanted only to comfort him—reassure him that she would always love him. “I do not wish to hurt you, Grandfather. And I don’t care one whit about your money. I care about
you
. You are my blood, my kin, and I love you.”

“Your words and actions here today would suggest otherwise.” He turned slowly. “I’ve done the best I could by you.”

“But you can’t cage a person up just because you fear something bad might happen to them. Grandmother was afraid you might fret like this. She told me so. But her dying words were encouragement to live a life of purpose and value. To seek my dreams—my mother’s dream. And . . . I intend to follow through.”

The old man turned in a rage with his teeth bared. “How dare you! You know your mother’s dream ended in death. Death!” he screamed. “My only child.” He choked the words, then clenched his jaw. “And I will not allow for you to follow in her footsteps, no matter what you
think
your grandmother said to you.”

“I’ve already accepted—”

“I don’t care what you’ve accepted! I
said
I forbid it and that’s final!”

“Ahem.” Stanton, their trusted butler, interrupted. “Your carriage is here, miss.”

Lillian turned to the door of the library and found the bags she’d packed in the butler’s hands. Two trunks sat behind him. “I guess that’s it, then. Ask the driver to load my bags, please.” She glanced one more time at her grandfather. Maybe, just maybe, she could get through to him.

“What do you mean—” her grandfather whirled around. “Stanton, what is this?”

“Miss Lillian’s things, sir.” The butler stood rigid.

“I’m on the next train, Grandfather.” If only he would try to stop her. Tell her that he loved her. Please. Not that she wouldn’t still go, but at least she would see some sign that the man she’d loved with all her heart resided within that hard shell somewhere. But he didn’t respond. She sucked in a breath and held her grief in check. “I had hoped we could part on good terms. I won’t be gone forever. I will write to you every week, and maybe one day you will even want to come for a visit.”

For a long moment he stared at her. His expression a mix of anger and disbelief. No one ever defied him for fear of losing their position or his financial support, yet she had just done so without regard for his money.

The mahogany walls and shelves lined with books seemed to close in on Lillian. This had once been her favorite room. The floor-to-ceiling windows on the east side that drenched her in sunlight. The maps and ship models. And the books. She loved the books. She’d often followed the housekeeper around as the shelves were dusted and polished, breathing in the scent of leather, wood, and lemon oil. She held her breath. How could a room that held so much love and so many beautiful memories now strangle her with regret?

Grandfather took several steps toward her and then stopped, his hands balled into fists at his sides. “Then so be it.” His face hardened even more. “Get out.”

“Grandfather.” She let out her breath in shock. Must he always be so thickheaded and stubborn? “Please. We don’t want to say good-bye like this. As I said, I will write to you. And, when I can, I will be back to visit.”

“No.” Adam Fletcher’s booming voice suddenly lowered. “I don’t want to hear from you. And I never want to see you again.” His eyes flashed like fire as he brushed past her and stormed from the room just as Stanton returned.

The tears came then. Big fat rolling tears. She suppressed a sob as Stanton looked at her with compassion.

“He’s a hard man, miss.” The butler stayed in his position at the door, but his features had softened significantly since his employer had left. “I’m sure he doesn’t mean it.”

Lillian took a deep breath and swiped her face with her gloved hands. “Oh, he meant it. Be assured of that, Stanton. I don’t know who he is anymore. But it’s no matter. I’ve made up my mind, and I know that God has given me a peace about this decision. I’m certain if I continue to seek Him above all else, that I will stay on the correct path.”

The man nodded. He’d been a part of her life for as long as she could remember. “Yes, miss. The good Lord will guide and keep you.” He turned toward the foyer. “I believe the driver is ready to get you to the station.”

“I’m sorry to leave you all like this, Stanton. You . . . well, all of the staff have been there for me since I was a baby. It’s been so difficult the past few years, and he refuses to listen to anyone. Please don’t think I’m abandoning you.” She sighed. No use chattering any longer or attempting to explain.

The butler’s expression said it all. He understood. Probably better than most.

“I’d like to keep in touch with you and the other staff, if that’s all right?” Her steps slowed on the marble floor as she gazed at her home for what could be the last time. As she looked up at the upper landing, she envisioned her grandmother waving her hankie and smiling. The good memories this great big house
contained. If only she could box them up and keep them with her always, blotting out all the sad ones of late.

“Yes, miss. We would like that very much.” The rigid set of his stance never faltered as he paused at the door. “You are like a cherished daughter to us all. I’m certain you will make an outstanding nanny to the little mute boy. He’ll need some joy in his life, and you will most undoubtedly bring it. Never forget that we will all be praying for you. Don’t hesitate to send us word if you need anything.”

Lillian took the smaller of the two bags from Stanton, then headed through the open door to the carriage. She managed to swallow around the lump in her throat. These people were so dear to her. Why, they and this house were all she’d ever known. Pressing a hand to her locket, she heard what she thought were footsteps and turned on her heel. But the empty foyer mocked her. Her love for the old man must’ve conjured up the sounds in her mind. Hoping that he’d change his mind.

She turned around to face the carriage, but then glanced over her shoulder once more.

Not a sign of him.

Taking a few more steps toward the carriage, she allowed her gaze to glance up to her grandfather’s bedroom window. A slight rustling of the curtains told Lillian he was watching. The ache in her chest built. She wanted so much to ease his pain and worry . . . and to have his approval.

“Good-bye, Grandfather. I love you.” Her whispered words seemed to bounce back from the brick walls of the house. The curtain above went still. The tall clock down the hall chimed the hour. As it echoed through the foyer and out the door, the finality of the moment struck her. A hollow loneliness engulfed her. Lillian’s time here had come to an end.

With a deep breath and lift of her chin, Lillian turned and headed down the steps to the hired carriage. Could she really leave like this? With her grandfather—her only living relative—so angry? And all because of her? Tears threatened to spill once again, but she held them at bay.

Stanton helped her into the carriage while the driver who’d already packed the two trunks came and took the bag Stanton held. Lillian could see the sadness in the butler’s eyes. She wished she could say something to comfort him—all of them. The staff were like family to her, and she would miss them.

Stanton closed the small carriage door. He leaned toward the open window. As if reading her mind, he spoke with a smile. “You will be greatly missed, Miss Lillian. Fletcher Manor won’t be the same without you.”

She nodded and bit her lip to stave off the tears yet again as she gazed up at the redbrick exterior of her home. Would she ever see this beautiful place again? Would her grandmother be proud of her for following her dreams, or would she scold her for abandoning her grandfather?

As the driver maneuvered the carriage away from the immaculate house and grounds, Lillian closed her eyes. She could almost see her grandmother again reaching out to her in those last moments.
“Your mother . . . she wasn’t wrong in leaving. . . . The
Lord just had a different plan than we expected, and He gave us you. Follow your dreams, dear girl. . . .”

Tears choked her as they exited the gates outside her home of twenty-one years.

Lord, please make my paths straight. Forgive me for leaving Grandfather in such a way.
I want to follow You.

She checked her small overnight bag and then patted her reticule containing her money and train ticket. The blessed
peace that filled her heart soothed the aching places inside. There was a seven-year-old boy who awaited her on the other end of her journey. A little boy who needed healing. A little boy whose tragic story had pricked her heart from the very beginning. Lillian nodded. God’s plan for her was in California. She knew it deep inside. But she couldn’t rid her mind of one rather sickening thought.

Her grandfather had made it perfectly clear . . . she could never return.

Angels Camp, California

Woody Colton found himself in Clark’s general store in the small town of Angels Camp against his better judgment. Most times when he was in need of supplies, he trekked twice the distance to Copperopolis or put in his order with the Stickle brothers’ mercantile, but he didn’t have the time this month to spare, and Stickle Bros. was closed. So he’d had no choice. And now he was paying for it. Most people with a lick of common sense would have thought all the rumors and gossip would’ve died down by now. But no. They had only gotten worse.

Herman Clark, the owner of the general store, scowled across the room at Woody. Twelve customers had come and gone since he entered, and yet he still waited to be helped.

“That’s him. He’s the one I was tellin’ you about,” one lady whispered to another as they swished by, their chins high in the air.

“Do you think he’d hurt anyone else?” The lady’s response cut him to the quick as they left the store.

The bell jangled over the door, and Woody glanced around
the room. He’d been waiting thirty minutes. Guess his business wasn’t as good as everyone else’s.

After three more customers left with their goods, Woody could take no more and rang the bell on the counter. The Lord had given him enough patience to make it this far, but good grief, he wasn’t a saint.

The shopkeeper just glared. “What do you want, Colton?”

“Herman, now I’ve held my tongue while you served everyone else who walked into your store, but I’ve had just about enough. You’ve known me for six years, and I’ve done a lot of business with you. What is it going to take to get my supplies?”

“Just because the judge let you go doesn’t mean that anyone in this town has to trust you.” This man he’d once called friend sneered at him, his face full of disgust.

So that was it. Everyone believed the accusations, even though he’d been found innocent. Not only had his heart been ripped out, but now they’d decided to trample it into the dust. As if his loss wasn’t enough. “I’m not here to cause any trouble, Herman. I just need some supplies. And I’m paying cash.”

Herman’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know why I am even talking to you—”

“Herman!” Carla Clark’s shrill voice from the back of the store shut the man up. With her hands on her ample hips, she shook her head at her husband. “I can’t believe you are treating Woody that way. Why, we sat next to him and his wife in church for years. We prayed together and ate together and served together.”

“
Humph
. Sittin’ next to someone in church don’t mean nothin’, woman! Just because someone sits in church don’t make them God-fearing.”

“Well, then, you wouldn’t mind sleepin’ down here in the
storeroom, would ya?” Carla reached for Woody’s list. “’Cause I shore don’t want anyone but my
God-fearing
husband upstairs with me. And the man next to me right now ain’t actin’ like
he’s
God-fearing. Especially when his opinion seems to be based on a bunch of malicious whispers rather than fact. As I recall, maliciousness and whisperings are sins that are listed right there with murder as to being disfavored in the eyes of God. It’s all right there in Romans chapter one.”