Beyond All Measure (23 page)

“I know what you mean.” Ada paused. “What was the story Mr. Chastain read just now?”

“I don’t remember. I was thinking about my princess story.” Sophie fell onto her back in the thick grass and spread out her arms and legs like spokes in a wheel.

“I love princess stories! Would you tell it to me?”

Behind them, the musicians began warming up. Some of the farmers had packed up and were starting for home; animals had to be fed and cows milked even on harvest-festival day. A line of buckboards and wagons moved slowly toward the road. Sophie cupped her hands to her face and looked up at the clouds. “It’s too long.”

“Maybe just a bit of it then?”

Sophie sighed and closed her eyes. “Onct they was a princess, lived all the way in Africa. One day a ship came and the princess was kidnapped. They took her to a big white house on a island. All around was a big ocean the color of a robin’s egg. The sand was white as sugar.”

Ada sat motionless. The child’s voice was mesmerizing.

“They was a big storm. The house fell into the ocean. The princess floated to a strange new place and she lived there until she died.”

“Is that the end of the story?” Ada asked.

“The man in the white house?” Sophie, a born storyteller if there ever was one, paused for dramatic effect. She sat up, her green eyes flashing. “No one heard of him again. But people say he still looking for her.”

She got to her feet and brushed the dust from her dress, breaking the spell. “That’s all I know. I been knowin’ that story since my baby days.”

Ada reached up and caught the child’s thin hand in her own. “It’s a beautiful story. Would you write it down, just the way you’ve told it to me? I’m coming soon to see Mrs. Lowell. Perhaps you could give it to me then.”

Sophie frowned. “Why do you care ’bout some dumb old story ain’t even true?”

“It’s a secret. Can you trust me, for a little while?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. Can I go now?”

“Of course,” Ada said, stung by the rejection.

Sophie ran across the grass, calling out to a slightly younger boy and girl. They waited for her to catch up, and Ada breathed a sigh. Perhaps these two, like Robbie, would accept the beautiful little outcast.

“Ada?” Carrie waved her over. “Hurry! The dance is about to start.” She looped her arm through Ada’s. “Have I told you how much I adore my hat?”

Ada smiled. “A time or two. I’m glad you’re pleased.”

They joined the others from their quilting circle. The women chatted quietly as the air cooled and the sun slid behind the mountains. Presently a crescent moon rose in the indigo sky, glimmering through the branches of the hickory trees. Ada followed the others to the temporary dance pavilion, where fiddlers and banjo players tuned their instruments.

A bushy-bearded man in a plaid shirt walked to the side of the dance floor. “First dance is the Wild Goose Chase,” he announced. “Gents, claim your partners, and here we go.”

Nate Chastain appeared and swept Carrie onto the dance floor. Mariah and Sage joined six other couples as the dance began. Ada stood alone, watching the colorful swirl of the women’s dresses as they whirled and bowed to their partners. Onlookers drew nearer, clapping, laughing, and whistling as the dancers moved faster and faster.

A familiar laugh drew Ada’s attention. She looked up.
Heavenly days!
Wyatt was crossing the meadow with Bea Goldston on his arm. Dressed in a bright blue skirt, white bodice, and straw hat, Bea clung to him like a barnacle to a ship, chattering away as they sauntered the crowd.

A wave of sadness moved through Ada. Tonight she felt as if the whole world was made up of couples. She was alone and, if she were completely honest with herself, jealous of Wyatt’s attention to the schoolteacher. She had no claim on him, but that fact didn’t stop the ache of tears in her throat.

When they neared the dance floor, Wyatt nodded to Bea and turned to one of his men. Bea wormed her way through the crowd and stopped to speak to Ethan Webster, whom Ada had met in town. The new headmaster was short and rotund, with a shiny bald pate and a neatly trimmed beard that made him look like everyone’s favorite uncle. In a black vest and long frock coat, he radiated an air of supreme confidence. From everything Ada had heard, the schoolchildren of Hickory Ridge could do worse than Mr. Webster.

Bea waved to Mr. Webster and continued her march toward Ada. “I saw you with that colored child,” she said without preamble. “Didn’t you learn anything from what happened at the Spencers?”

“She needs a friend. Except for Robbie Whiting, the other children ignore her. And Sophie is receiving only the barest of educations.”

“If it weren’t for Mrs. Lowell, she’d be sleeping in a shack down in Two Creeks, taking in washing like Libby Dawson. Or worse. The Dawson children aren’t getting an education either, but you never hear them complain.” Bea lowered her voice. “A word to the wise, Ada. People have noticed the interest you’ve taken in that girl. It might not be the best thing for your new business.”

Ada crossed her arms. “Women in Hickory Ridge won’t buy hats from me because I help a defenseless child? I don’t believe they could be so narrow-minded, or so coldhearted either.”

The first dance ended to laughter and applause.

“Ladies in the center!” the caller shouted. Ada glanced over Bea’s shoulder. The Whitings clasped hands and led off the dance, the flower on Mariah’s new hat bobbing in the breeze.

“They’re not coldhearted,” Bea said. “Who do you think fills up their stockings at Christmas? Sends over medicines when they’re sick? The difference is that most people know where to draw the line.” Her dark eyes flashed. “I’m trying to do you a favor here, Ada. You’d better learn where that line is before you get into trouble.”

She whirled away, her ruffled hem swishing on the grass.

Wyatt headed toward Ada as the last notes of the reel died away. He looked at her with a smile in his eyes and the world righted itself again.

“Rumor has it that the next dance is a waltz.” He offered his arm. “How about it?”

He led her onto the dance floor and swept her into his arms, his hand resting lightly at the small of her back. The music began. Ada relaxed in his arms and gave herself over to the music and the warmth of his body next to hers. He smelled wonderfully of soap and wood shavings.

He danced the way he ran his mill, with complete confidence and a gleam in his eye. He smiled into her eyes and hummed the song under his breath. It was the first moment of true bliss she’d known in years—something she had never expected to experience again.

All too soon the waltz ended, and Wyatt released her. The caller announced an old-fashioned Virginia reel.

“Mind if we sit this one out?”

“I don’t mind.”

He took her hand and led her away from the crowd. They skirted the gazebo and walked along the path toward the river, listening to the shouts and laughter of the dancers as the music sped up.

Wyatt stopped and turned to her in the darkness. “That night on the river, I never got to finish what I wanted to say to you.”

Her heart thudded. It was hard to breathe. She was only dimly aware of the scrape and thump of boots on the wooden dance floor behind them and the fiddle notes filling the air. “I’m listening now.”

He tipped her face toward his. His lips claimed hers in a warm kiss that was both confident and tender.
Oh mercy
. Ada felt as if she might float away. She leaned into the circle of his arms, her head against his chest. Was it her imagination, or was his heart racing as rapidly as hers?

“I’ve wanted to do that since the day I first saw you,” he murmured, his breath soft against her hair. “You looked so small and scared, and you were trying hard to look brave.”

“I didn’t know it showed.” Without thinking, she stepped back and squared her shoulders.

“It’s all right to need people, Ada,” he said softly. “It’s all right to want them in your life.”

She thought about her parents, about Aunt Kate and Edward, and she was nearly overcome with the old bitter sorrow. She’d needed all of them, wanted all of them. And one by one they had been plucked from her life like weeds from a garden.

“Wyatt, I—”

“You may not know it or want to admit it, but you need me,” Wyatt whispered. “As much as I need you. Come here.”

He opened his arms. But she just stood there, shaken to her very core. Of course she wanted him. She needed everything his kiss promised—affection, companionship, somewhere to belong.

All of the things Edward had promised her.

She looked into Wyatt’s shadowed face and all she saw was sincerity and hope. But then, she wasn’t exactly the best judge of character. What if she gave her heart to Wyatt, only to have it broken again?

“Until you came to Hickory Ridge,” Wyatt continued, “I didn’t know why I was here, beyond looking after Lillian. But everything is different now. I realize the Lord in his wisdom brought me here to find what was missing in my life. You.” He took both her hands in his. “Don’t you see his work in all this?”

“I’m . . . not sure.”

He nodded. “I can see why you’d hesitate, after I’ve given you such a hard time about your hat business. But I see that a lot more clearly now too. I finally realized why I was fighting you. I feared that once you became a success you wouldn’t need me or Hickory Ridge any longer.”

The bonfire flickered brightly in the darkness. Ada watched a shower of orange sparks spiral into the night sky. The lilting strains of another waltz floated on the air. What was he saying? That he’d decided not to go to Texas after all? Because of her?

He drew her closer and gently kissed her temple “Maybe I shouldn’t have sprung all this on you at once, but I can’t help it. I wanted you to know how I feel.”

She looked up at him through a blur of tears.

“Help me out here, darlin’. Have I said too much?”

She shook her head, too overcome to speak. Hope, fear, and regret warred inside her. She laid one hand on his arm. “It’s the most wonderful thing anyone has ever spoken to me. I don’t know what to say.”

“Say that I have your permission to court you properly.” He grinned. “Or at least say you forgive me for being so stubborn.”

“I’ve been stubborn too. And I do forgive you.”

“Then you’ll be my dear, beloved friend?”

She nodded and swallowed the knot of tears in her throat. “Always.”

He lifted her hand and gently kissed it. “I’ll do my best to be worthy of you. And maybe someday, if God so decides, we’ll be more than friends.”

She looked into his face, so open, so full of hope, and felt her heart crack open.

Mere friendship wouldn’t be nearly enough to satisfy the deep longing she was beginning to feel for him. But if she let herself love him and need him, would he, like Edward before him, simply disappear?

TWENTY-ONE

“I’m sure you mean well, Miss Wentworth, but what you’re asking is impossible.” Mrs. Lowell sat back in her chair and folded her hands on her desk.

“I don’t understand.” Ada watched the trees outside the orphanage bending in the late November wind. “I should think you’d want people to take an interest in the children. Otherwise how would any of them ever find permanent homes?”

Mrs. Lowell removed her spectacles and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Sophie is unadoptable.”

“I’m not asking to adopt her, only for your permission to visit her on a regular basis, to help with her schoolwork. She’s a bright child. Her potential should not be wasted.” Ada let out an exasperated sigh. Why should this woman have sole control of Sophie’s future? It wasn’t fair. “In Massachusetts, a judge would decide what’s best for—”

“This isn’t Massachusetts.” The director leaned forward in her chair. “Suppose I agreed. Suppose Sophie became the best-educated girl in the county. What could she do with all that learning? I should think that to be denied the chance to use her hard-won knowledge would only make her more unhappy.”

Ada fought to control her temper. This woman was as unfeeling and unmovable as stone. “Ignorance is bliss? Is that it?”

“Well, I didn’t—”

“Sophie has an extraordinary way with words. Perhaps one day she’ll become a writer. Perhaps she’ll become a teacher and start a school for the children in Two Creeks.”

“Not likely. From what I hear, the men down at the town hall are still jawing over that land.” Mrs. Lowell leaned across her desk. “Miss Wentworth, I appreciate your desire to help Sophie. But some folks are getting up a head of steam over this Two Creeks business, especially after that incident at the Spencers’. This is not the time to do anything that would call more attention to the divide between us. I’m denying your request not only because I’m not sure it’s best for Sophie, but also to protect our town from further strife.”

“Surely you don’t think the entire town cares whether or not I tutor one small child.”

“Hickory Ridge is not so large that what one person does has no effect upon others.”

“But you allow the other girls to go to school!”

“A waste of time, in my opinion. But the school board insisted.” The director leaned back in her chair. “I can see the purpose of it for the boys. They must be educated enough to assume their rightful roles in our community. The girls, however, require no such training.”

Ada gaped at her. She could not imagine a life without the comfort of books, a life even more devoid of opportunity than her own. “How then do you propose that they get on in the world?”

“Natural feminine instinct will be their guide, as it always has been.” Mrs. Lowell rose. “You’ll excuse me now. I must see to the children.”

Ada grabbed her shawl, pulled on her gloves, and picked up the hatbox containing Molly Scott’s hat. “I can find my way out.”

On the front porch, she met Bea Goldston coming in, a sheaf of papers tucked under one arm.

“Ada.” Bea offered a curt nod. “This is a surprise. What brings you here?”

“I had some business with Mrs. Lowell.”

“Oh, of course. About that half-colored child.”

Ada brushed past her. “Excuse me. I have a hat to deliver.”

“Speaking of hats, when are you going to make mine? I would like to have it for the Christmas pageant next month. Seeing as how I’ll be up on the stage, directing, and all eyes will be on me.”