Hearts Awakening (31 page)
Three days later, Sunday morning arrived without any sign of rain at all for the first time in over a month!
The sun was bright and the air was fall crisp, promising cooler weather now that September was waning away. After attending services for the first time since they had gotten married and speaking briefly with Reverend Shore about his sermon today, Ellie held on to Jackson’s arm as they left the redbrick church that overlooked the Susquehanna River.
There were a lot of families in the treelined yard in front of the church who milled about in groups, but instead of worrying about whether or not Cousin Mark and his wife were there, waiting to greet either her or Jackson with a snide comment, Ellie kept a good eye on the boys, who had gotten permission to race ahead to enjoy a rare opportunity to play with the other children.
She spied the boys playing tag and smiled. The long faces they had worn at breakfast again today were gone, but she knew they would return tomorrow morning. Being denied a single bite of griddle cakes for a month might not seem to be much, but the punishment she and Jackson had devised for the boys suited them perfectly.
Glancing down at her cape, however, her smile faded into a frown. She was not nearly as well dressed as the other women who had been at services today, and she felt more than a little self-conscious about her appearance. If it had not been Sunday, when all of the shops were closed, she might have been tempted to take the boys with her to Madeline French’s shop instead of taking them for a walk while Jackson cleaned out the rest of Rebecca’s things at the Sunday house.
Disappointed to have to wait until Market Day, she glanced over at her husband as they made their way down the brick steps and moistened her lips. Although he was unusually tense, if not distant, he looked positively dashing in his navy frock coat, which was nearly the exact color of his eyes. To her, he was the most handsome man there, and judging by the way a number of other women had looked their way during the service, she knew they found him equally attractive. She also suspected there would be a fair number of women, as well as men, who might agree that the new Mrs. Jackson Smith looked even plainer than usual when she stood by his side.
Jackson caught her gaze, smiled briefly, and leaned toward her. “I’m not certain, but I think except for the Grants, every member of the congregation actually came to services today,” he offered.
“Including us,” she teased. “The fact that it’s rained every Sunday for the past month might have something to do with it.”
“Perhaps,” he replied, “though curiosity is probably the most likely reason many of them came.” He scanned the church–yard.
When they reached the bottom of the steps, she pointed to the right. “The boys are over there, next to the oak tree.”
Avoiding the different groups of people chatting in the churchyard, he guided her off the walkway and across the lawn toward the front of the parsonage to stand next to a row of fading lilac bushes, where they had a bit of privacy, yet still had a good view of the boys.
“Curiosity about what?” she asked when he finally stopped them.
He glanced at her again, his gaze troubled. “They’re bound to be curious about both of us, but I’m fairly certain they’re far more interested in talking to me than they are you,” he admitted and eyed the churchyard again, as if trying to decide if he wanted to stay to talk to the other members of the congregation or simply collect the boys and head for home.
“Why are you so worried about talking to anyone here? We’re at church,” she questioned.
“That may be, but if the last place you’d expect to find a few people willing to engage in vicious gossip is at church, you’d be sadly mistaken—since there are any number here who are hiding their evil intentions beneath a cloak of self-righteousness,” he countered.
“But they should be happy for you now that you’ve remarried, because they must know how hard it’s been for you raising the boys on your own,” she argued more forcefully.
His gaze darkened. “They all knew Rebecca, too.” He cleared his throat, caught her gaze, and held it. “I wanted to talk to you about something last night, but by the time I got the boys in bed after visiting Gram, you weren’t up.”
“I was tired,” she replied, which was only partly true. In point of fact, now that he had started to spend time each night sitting in front of the fire reading the Bible, she had started retiring to her room earlier to give him a bit of privacy, particularly since he had never invited her to join him. “If I’d known you wanted to talk to me—”
“No, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have waited until the last minute, which sounds ridiculous now, since we’ve already been to services and it’ll be difficult, if not impossible, to leave without stopping to speak to anyone.”
She smiled. “Then just tell me quickly now.”
He cleared his throat again. “I’ve already told you why there was a good bit of scandal surrounding Rebecca’s death.”
“I remember.”
When he narrowed his gaze, she felt the muscles in his arm tense. He clenched and unclenched his jaw, but she held his gaze and refused to look away. When he finally spoke, his voice was just above a whisper. “I don’t want to stay and introduce you around to the entire congregation today and receive their good wishes, only to reappear next week or the following week having to explain that you left me because . . . because you didn’t want to stay married to a man like me any more than Rebecca did.”
Ellie tightened her hold on his arm and looked at the man who was gazing at her now, silently asking for her support and understanding as he struggled with his fears and his anger, if not his very faith. “I’m not Rebecca. I’m Ellie, and I’m trying very hard to trust you when you tell me you want to change and that you want to make this marriage work, especially for the boys’ sake. What matters to me is that we’re both trying our best and we’re both relying on God to help us. Now, can we please join the others? I think once we—”
“Yoo-hoo! Mr. Smith, don’t slip off with that new wife of yours quite yet. There’s someone I want her to meet.”
Ellie looked up and saw Mrs. Fielding waddling toward them with an elderly woman. “I don’t think we have anything to fear from Mrs. Fielding today, do we?”
He shrugged and reluctantly led her toward the two women. “Not unless the woman wants a basket of apples delivered to her sister again this week, in which case I’ll have to make sure I have a spare set of clothing, just in case I happen to run into another young rascal with a wheelbarrow filled with manure.”
Chuckling, Ellie caught a glimpse of several other members of the congregation following the two women before Mrs. Fielding blocked her view. Half an hour later, Cousin Mark and his wife passed by with little more than a curt nod, but Christina Schuler, the woman Ellie had met at Olivia’s shop on her wedding day, quickly approached, accompanied by two other elegantly dressed women.
She took a small step closer to her husband and noted his smile had slipped into a frown.
Wearing a stunning russet cape trimmed with fur, which Ellie assumed her cousin’s wife had made, Christina dismissed Ellie with a sweep of her gaze and smiled at Jackson. “I see you finally managed to escape that awful island and join us for services.”
Jackson ignored the woman’s comment and quickly introduced Ellie to Sarah Callahan and Olympia Wagner, who had apparently known Jackson for as long as Christina had.
“I wrote to Dorothea again just yesterday, but if I’d known for certain you’d be at church today, I would have waited so I could have told her that, too,” Christina offered.
“Dorothea has such a fine life for herself now,” Sarah said as she leaned closer to Ellie. “I haven’t been to market to Jackson’s stall since his late wife met her sad demise, but I hear you bake such heavenly treats that I’m determined to try one this week. I do hope you haven’t been bothered overmuch by all the scandal she caused.”
Olympia sniffed, which set the ridiculous host of feathers on her bonnet into a wiggle. “People do go on so—you’d think the scandal would die out now that you’re remarried, Jackson, but no one should argue with your choice of a new wife. What a woman lacks in looks, she makes up for in other ways, I always say, and a man would be foolish indeed to prefer looks over a woman’s talents in the kitchen.”
Sarah nodded. “Rebecca certainly had her faults, but she was clearly blessed with such extraordinary looks they led her straight into trouble, and it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to anyone that Jackson would want a wife who—”
“Ellie is a fine wife and mother for my sons,” Jackson said curtly. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we really do need to collect the boys—”
“Mr. Smith? Mrs. Smith?”
Caught between the sting of the women’s audacious and meanspirited remarks and pleasure at her husband’s defense of her, Ellie noted the arrival of Madeline French with relief.
The woman smiled as she stepped in between Ellie and the three women. “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but Reverend Shore didn’t want you to worry about the boys. He and Mrs. Shore are taking them back to the parsonage for a snack,” she explained and glanced at Jackson. “Reverend Shore also wanted me to tell you that he forgot to ask if you’d have a moment to discuss something with him before you leave for home.”
Jackson nodded. “Of course.”
“Then I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if I took your wife back home with me for a bit to take care of those matters we discussed last market day,” she said and turned to the three women behind her. “Ladies, would you excuse us, please?” she said, hooked her arm with Ellie’s, and led her away before Ellie or Jackson or any of the women had a chance to argue with her.
With her head still spinning from her unpleasant encounter with Christina Schuler and her friends, yet grateful for Jackson’s support, Ellie accompanied Madeline French to her shop.
Unlike her first visit there, after she had helped the poor woman recover from a nasty spill on Market Day, she had a feeling this visit today would touch off a round of gossip about the new Mrs. Jackson Smith, especially if Christina Schuler or her two friends had anything to say about it.
At forty, Madeline French was nearly ten years older than Ellie, but with her flawless porcelain skin, vibrant red hair, and eyes that sparkled with vitality, she looked far younger. She wore the very latest fashions, which included the rather remarkable purple cape she wore today that Ellie suspected Olivia had made. For her part, Ellie felt totally frumpish as they walked side by side down Second Street together.
Although Ellie was grateful that Madeline had interrupted an awkward situation, she was more than a little reluctant to accept the woman’s invitation to come to her shop today when it was actually closed, along with all the others in the city. Someone other than Christina or Sarah or Olympia was bound to notice her entering the shop on a Sunday, which was supposed to be a day of worship and rest.
Since Madeline French was no stranger to gossip herself, however, Ellie could not have chosen anyone better to be her companion, as well as her champion. From what she had learned at market from some of Jackson’s customers, this stunning woman, who had also insisted that Ellie call her by her first name, had kept gossipmongers guessing the truth about her for the past ten years while maintaining her dignity and her grace, as well a reputation as a fine businesswoman.
Some gossipmongers argued that Madeline French had moved here from New York and was not married at all. Her husband, they argued, was a figment of her imagination, because she wanted to escape the pitiful title of spinster. Others claimed her husband had abandoned her many years ago in Massachusetts. While he had gone west, either alone or with another woman, depending on who was telling the tale, she had moved here to avoid scandal. Yet others claimed the couple had lived in Boston where they had divorced, for as many reasons as there were types of fabrics for a woman to choose from for her gowns.
Indeed, the only thing gossipmongers could agree upon was that no one, other than Madeline French herself, had ever seen or met the woman’s husband, Oliver Caldwell French.
Still, Ellie was relieved when they arrived at the shop and proceeded to walk around the building to the back door.
“You may not know this, but your husband told me last week you were to choose at least three fabrics that you’d like for your new gowns,” Madeline stated as she led the way inside and down a dark hallway to the front of the shop.
Ellie frowned. “I still don’t see why this couldn’t wait until Wednesday when we’ll be coming in for Market Day. I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I’m not comfortable shopping on Sunday.”
“You weren’t comfortable listening to some of the bolder members of the congregation who wanted to share a bit of scandal with you just before I arrived, either, but you survived,” Madeline said as she drew up the canvas drape covering the single window in the shop to let in more light. “In fact, from all I’ve seen and heard, you’re one of the few women in the city who can face down gossip almost as well as I do. But don’t fool yourself. Gossipmongers like Christina Schuler and her friends don’t give up easily. They’ll be waiting to test you again next Sunday.”
