Love on Assignment (24 page)

“We have Bibles in church, so you really don't need your own,” Daniel said.

Ruthie chimed in, “We always bring our Bibles to worship service.”

“I—I'm sorry. I didn't know that.”

“Don't you bring your Bible at your church?” Ruthie asked.

“I must admit I'm not a frequent churchgoer. I mean, I don't go as often as I should.”

Ruthie's eyes widened. “We're supposed to read Scripture every day as well.”

Charlotte grinned at Daniel's cheeky daughter. “I read the one in my bedroom every night before I go to sleep.”

Daniel couldn't stifle a grin. “Excellent.” The Lord was most definitely working in her heart. Relief washed over him.

They strolled side by side, but not so close that anyone on Cove Road would notice. Charlotte didn't even glance at him during the entire walk to the college, though she responded politely to his feeble attempts at small talk. He found the effort tiring and soon gave up. Charlotte seemed lost in her own musings or perhaps in the memory of his intemperate admission. He usually considered his thoughts carefully before divulging them. Well, this proved to be a valuable lesson. From now on he'd guard his tongue and not be so quick to jump into the briar patch of romance.

They turned down the path leading to the fellowship hall and followed Tim and Ruthie into the building. It was designed in the same Georgian style as the rest of the college, with ivy trailing down its red brick walls, which had faded over the last thirty years.

“Where are we going?” Charlotte frowned.

“To Sunday school, of course.” Tim flung open a classroom door. Inside, a gaggle of youngsters ran around while their teacher, a distraught young woman, clapped her hands in a futile attempt to impose order.

“Do behave yourself, Tim.”

Daniel led Charlotte to the end of the hallway and entered a small room with a group of about twenty or thirty men and women settled in rows like a lecture hall. Daniel introduced Charlotte to some of his friends and colleagues and the Sunday school teacher. Her voice barely rose above a squeak and her gaze darted around the room as if she were searching for an escape. What happened to her friendly, confident manner? Maybe she was newer to the faith than he'd previously thought. He retrieved a Bible from the bookshelf and handed it to her. She looked uncomfortable. Or was he imagining it?

The Sunday school leader gave her a bright, welcoming grin. “Can you tell us a little about yourself, Miss Hale?”

“Um, of course.” She cleared her throat. “I'm the Wilmonts' new governess. I live on the Point with my aunt and my sister.” She flicked a tentative smile and sat down.

“We're so glad you joined us this morning. Where do you normally worship?”

She hesitated. “I attend different churches. But while I'm working for the Wilmonts, I'll be coming here.”

She looked at Daniel for confirmation, her forehead creased. He nodded. Why was she practically whispering?

“Good to have you with us. We'll look forward to seeing you on Sundays.”

Bowing her head over the Scriptures, Charlotte's mesh veil concealed most of her face. Throughout the discussion she hardly moved a muscle and never once added a comment or posed a question. Very unlike Charlotte. From time to time her fingers fanned the pages of her Bible or fidgeted in her lap. When the teacher directed everyone to turn to a particular chapter and verse, Charlotte consulted the table of contents first. This meant nothing, of course, except that she wasn't as familiar with the text as most longtime Christians. And she didn't feel comfortable among these strangers. Or did it mean something else? He shuddered to think she might have misled him about her faith.

“Did you like the class?” Daniel asked later as they headed for the sanctuary.

She quirked an odd smile. “I learned a lot.”

I LEARNED I'M
mired in quicksand and I want to get out of here!

How had Mr. Phifer ever convinced her she could pull off this ridiculous charade? Pretending to be a Christian was impossible. Straightforward and direct—that was how she thought of herself. Truly, she wasn't a liar, at least not until this assignment. She didn't fool the professor. She felt quite sure of that. He stared at her with narrowed eyes every time she fumbled through her Bible, unable to locate anything past Genesis. He must know, or strongly suspect, she wasn't a genuine Christian. Perspiration coated her skin despite the cool air flowing through the open front doors of the church. She rubbed her palms against her skirt, resisting the urge to mop her brow.

Sliding into the pew between Professor Wilmont and Ruthie, Charlotte took her seat and glanced around the plain, almost stark room. People of all ages crowded shoulder to shoulder, chatting quietly.

The robed singers filed to the right of the pulpit and focused on their director. Bursting into song, they raised their voices to the rooftop, blending and harmonizing like a choir of angels. Then the congregation joined in, belting out an upbeat hymn she'd never heard before. Charlotte glanced around. No one else needed to read the lyrics from the hymnal.

Ruthie peeked sideways and whispered, “Don't you know the words?”

“I'm afraid not. We sing different hymns.”

“Like what?” Ruthie insisted. Professor Wilmont frowned and the girl reluctantly turned toward the front.

The songs were so easy to sing, Charlotte joined in softly at first and then louder as a few of the melodies became familiar. The lyrics must come from Scripture. Words about the Holy Ghost, the Comforter, the Counselor. She'd certainly appreciate guidance from the Holy Ghost and confirmation that she was doing the right thing. But how could any holy personage give snooping a nod of approval?

For no discernable reason tears stung the back of her eyelids and threatened to spill down her hot skin. What had come over her? Was she disintegrating emotionally? Or was she just responding to the wonderful music?

A feeling of peace settled into her heart and then intensified, leaving her alone with . . . God?

Charlotte was surprised that the unexpected warmth lingered even after they left the sanctuary. Savoring her spiritual experience, she felt a part of a new realm she hadn't known, though after reading the Bible several times before bed, she suspected there might be something far beyond her experience and knowledge. Unable to define it, she let God's unseen presence overwhelm her with joy, quite different from the familiar happiness that appeared and disappeared so easily.

She needed to ponder the feelings the church service had stirred in her heart. “I believe I'll take a walk around the campus and enjoy the beautiful afternoon.”

“Then we'll see you later,” Daniel said, looking a bit disappointed. He headed down Cove Road, glanced back, and waved. Charlotte waved back. With a light spirit, she strolled across the lawn toward the bandstand. Several young ladies, students she presumed, gathered on the benches, giggling and chatting. Missy LeBeau sat right in their midst. Charlotte dropped onto a stone bench under the shade of an elm and watched her from a discreet distance. Missy was the swan amid the ducks. Her cream-colored frock stood out among the charcoal gray and brown garments the other students wore. Even her laughter rang out above their giggles.

“May I join you?” asked a young woman dressed in a dark plum walking suit without lace or trim. It shaded a square face punctuated with plain features. Charlotte recognized her from the church. “Lovely service, wasn't it?” she asked as Charlotte motioned her to sit.

“Yes, indeed.”

“I'm Agnes Brownington. I'm a freshman.”

“How do you do? I'm Charlotte Hale, governess to Professor Wilmont's children.”

“Yes, I noticed you sitting with him in church.”

They chatted amiably before their attention drifted to the girls by the bandstand. Agnes's mouth tightened so much her lips nearly disappeared. “They're a rowdy group, especially the blonde with the cat eyes. Missy LeBeau. She's in Professor Wilmont's New Testament class with me.”

Charlotte's nerves stood on end. “Oh? I take it you're not close friends.”

Agnes shook her head. “You are indeed correct. We're the only two women in the class.”

“Is Miss LeBeau a good student?”

A grunt escaped Agnes's throat. “The very worst.” She leaned closer while keeping her gaze fixed on Missy. “She's a disgrace to our sex.”

“Truly? Why is that?” Charlotte asked.

“She's chasing Professor Wilmont all over campus. Everyone's noticed. She ought to be ashamed, but she's not. She flaunts herself like a hussy. Someone ought to report her behavior to the dean.”

“And the professor, how does he react to the attention?” Charlotte leaned closer.

Agnes's eyes narrowed. “He dislikes it, I can assure you. He's a model Christian man.”

“I agree. But Miss LeBeau is not a model Christian woman?”

“Not in the least. She ought to be expelled.”

With nerves twitching, Charlotte pumped Agnes for details, but the girl soon rose. “If you'll excuse me I must be off to the dining hall or I'll miss my meal. It was so pleasant conversing with you, Miss Hale.”

At least Agnes had confirmed Charlotte's assessment of the professor and his brazen student. Her instincts were right.

Then the young woman turned around. “I've heard a rumor that Professor Wilmont expects to leave at the end of the semester. That's not true, is it?” She wrung her hands. “He's such an excellent instructor. We'd all miss him terribly.”

“You'll have to ask him, Miss Brownington.”

“Yes, I expect you're right.”

They soon parted and Charlotte returned to Summerhill. During the afternoon she sketched with Ruthie on the back veranda, while out of the corner of her eye, she watched Tim and the youngest Hopkins boy climb trees on the side lawn. No doubt Mrs. Wilmont would disapprove, but the woman was ensconced in the drawing room entertaining the dapper Mr. McClintock and anyone else who stopped by to wish her a rapid recovery. A dozen or more well-wishers had streamed into the cottage during the last few days.

Charlotte finished her drawing, satisfied she'd captured Ruthie's whimsy.

“Why, that's me,” Ruthie said with a smile, looking over at Charlotte's sketch pad. “May I show the picture to Papa? He'll love it. You're a splendid artist.”

Charlotte laughed, embarrassed by the praise. “Yes, of course. You may have it, if you'd like.”

“Thank you, Miss Hale. I shall sketch you now.”

Charlotte grinned. She laid her pencil on the wicker table set atop an Oriental carpet and glanced toward the sea, more quiet than usual in the stillness of the late afternoon.

The warm feelings she'd had in church had remained throughout the day, although they could easily fade in the light of reality. But at the moment they radiated within, like captured sunshine. The Lord loved her. Recently she'd read a verse in Proverbs: “I love them that love me; and those that seek me early shall find me.” She understood that now. And it changed everything. While Ruthie silently sketched, Charlotte prayed.

Lord, I've committed so many sins and I ask for Your forgiveness. I am truly sorry
.

And then the gravity of her deception smashed into her stomach. She'd lied for the vindictive Mr. Phifer who was using her shamelessly.

Should she continue to work for him? Quitting her position would mean she'd have to obtain another job quickly. Where could she apply?

The back door opened and Daniel stepped outside. Charlotte's heart lurched.

“Good afternoon, Charlotte, Ruthie. I've been searching for Sarah's prayer journal, but I can't seem to locate it. Did you happen to run across it? I can't imagine why you would've seen it, but I've asked my mother and the staff and no one has any idea where it might be. It was in a hatbox on the shelf of my wardrobe not long ago. I looked for it last night and searched for it again just now, but I'm afraid it's disappeared.”

“I'm sure it will turn up soon.” Charlotte's voice trembled. She should have returned the prayer journal days ago, but she'd read it cover to cover over the course of several nights. Then she'd shoved it to the back of her chest of drawers without ever finding an opportunity to return it. As soon as possible, she'd sneak the book back to its proper place.

But why did he suddenly want it?

“I'm sure it'll turn up. I have a bad habit of losing things right when I want them the most.” Daniel shook his head and started for the door, still looking puzzled.

“Look at the sketch Miss Hale drew of me and the one I made of her.” Ruthie beamed. “Would you like them, Papa?”

“If Miss Hale wouldn't mind, I'd love to have them both.” His smile slid from one to the other.

FOURTEEN

C
harlotte awoke to a dreary day punctuated by the mournful wail of a foghorn. A damp chill spread across her bedroom and raised goose bumps on her bare arms. Closing the window, she watched charcoal clouds skitter across the opal sky and darken the surf to gray. Fog veiled the lawn.