Love's First Bloom (37 page)

With her heart racing, she joined him at the table and stared at the headline he pointed to in the
Transcript
:
Deathbed Confession Renders Justice for Rosalie Peale
.

“I heard that Eldridge Porter was so distressed that he missed reporting this story, he bought a horse and rode straight back to the city,” he said, chuckling. “Here’s another,” he said, pointing to a headline in another paper before she had the chance to read a single word in the article below the first headline. The bold words on the first page of the
Sun
were just as unbelievable:
Brothel Owner Confesses to Killing Rosalie Peale
.

“And another,” he said, reading the headline in the
Herald
out loud: “ ‘Reverend Livingstone’s Verdict Affirmed by Deathbed Confession.’ I’ve read these three papers already. Every one of them says pretty much the same thing, although none of them had the decency to apologize for ruining Reverend Livingstone’s name with innuendo and gossip they passed on to the public as fact,” he noted sadly.

Nearly overwhelmed, Ruth eased into the nearest chair. Her tears flowed so hard and so fast, she doubted she would be able to read anything for a good while. “Please. Just tell me what the papers said,” she managed, afraid to believe that her father’s good name had been restored to him.

Elias started folding up the papers. “Rosalie Peale worked on King Street at Mrs. Browers’s brothel, which is old news, where the poor young woman apparently was the highestearning woman at the establishment, something we didn’t know,” he said, his cheeks turning pink.

He cleared his throat. “Apparently Rosalie told Mrs. Browers that she was leaving, and the woman tried to convince her to stay. When Rosalie refused, the woman flew into a rage and attacked her, shortly before Reverend Livingstone arrived. At least that’s what the woman confessed to Reverend Wells when she called him to her deathbed. At her request, he drew up a statement to that effect for the authorities, and she signed it in front of witnesses right before she died. One of the papers, the
Sun
I believe, also mentions something about a maid, who admitted stealing money from Rosalie’s room, but—”

“I’d like to see that newspaper, too,” Ruth said, when she saw him put the other three newspapers on top of it. “Is that the
Galaxy
?”

“Yes, but it says pretty much the same as the others,” he said.

Convinced he was trying to keep something from her, she slid the
Galaxy
free. Battling more tears, she read the headline
Justice for Rosalie Peale and Reverend Livingstone
, skimming the article that covered the entire front page. Relieved she found nothing amiss in the article itself, she opened the four-page paper, saw a large box bordered with thick black lines at the top of the second page, and froze when she read the information inside the box, set in bold type:

IN A FORTHCOMING ISSUE, THE
GALAXY
WILL PROVIDE A DETAILED ACCOUNT OF REV. LIVINGSTONE’S DAUGHTER, RUTH, AND THE LIFE SHE LED WHILE IN HIDING. WE TRUST OUR READERS WILL BE MOST INTERESTED IN THE INFORMATION WE HAVE UNCOVERED DURING OUR PROLONGED AND EXCLUSIVE INVESTIGATION.

“It’s not over. It won’t ever be over. Not for me. Not for Lily. Not even for you or Phanaby, as long as we’re still here,” she whispered. When Phanaby came running into the kitchen carrying Lily in her arms, Ruth dropped the newspaper and leaped to her feet.

“Her fever’s broken!” Phanaby cried and handed the sweat-drenched child to Ruth. “Praise God. It is truly a day to rejoice.”

Ruth cradled the child in her arms. Her nightdress was soaked, but her eyes were clear, her cheeks no longer flushed, and her skin was as cool as Ruth’s. “Thank you, Father,” she whispered, nuzzling the little girl’s face with her own as she broke into weeping.

With gratitude for God’s mercy and His healing of this precious child.

With joy, now that her father’s name had been cleared.

And with the certainty that this day would not end with rejoicing.

Tonight, she needed to tell Phanaby and Elias that she was definitely leaving as soon as Lily was well enough to travel. Regardless of where Elias would tell them their new home would be, they were going to sail directly to New York City first. Somehow, even if she had to beg, she was going to make certain that Jake did not print the forthcoming article mentioned in the newspaper—for her sake, for Lily’s sake, and for the sake of the couple who had opened their home and their hearts to them.

She did not know exactly how she might do that, but she had a drawerful of weapons she was going to take along with her—just in case she needed to prove to him that in addition to being the very naïve, trusting woman he had so easily fooled, when it came to protecting the people she loved, Mr. Toby had been right.

She could be one very dangerous woman, too.

Forty

As it happened, it was not Lily’s illness nor waiting for her full recovery that delayed Ruth’s departure, but a combination of factors well beyond her control.

The storm brewing on Monday afternoon developed into the strongest bout of bad weather she had experienced since moving here, keeping all the ships at anchor until Wednesday morning and forcing Ruth to remain inside. Fierce winds damaged many of the buildings on Main Street and littered the sidewalk and the roadway itself with broken glass and splintered wooden shingles.

Ruth stayed to help with the village-wide effort to clear the debris and repair the damage on Wednesday. Elias had been unable to book passage on any ship for Thursday, but when the
Sheller
sailed downriver the following day at midmorning, rather than at first light, Ruth and Lily would be on board.

Ruth arrived at the private sanctuary she had created for herself shortly after dawn on Friday, expecting to find her flowering plants strangled by weeds and her memories of the hours she had spent here with Jake a haunting reminder of his betrayal. Instead, the garden was a brilliant collage of yellow and blue flowers, and there was nary a weed in sight. Just as surprisingly, her memories of Jake were difficult but more sweet than bitter. But the bench he had made for her was nowhere to be seen.

“Jake …”

Standing in front of the garden, facing the river, she whispered his name and her love for this man soared throughout her entire being in the space of a single heartbeat. Devastation, however, pained her heart as she fingered the key she wore on the ribbon around her neck. Several months ago, when Rev. Haines asked her, when the time came, to bring fresh flowers to church services, she never thought she would be here to see them bloom. But she never dreamed that love would also bloom, only to be destroyed long before frost would claim the last of her flowers.

Ruth experienced a heightened sense of déjà vu when she detected the smell of burning wood and turned to see smoke curling skyward from the chimney in the cabin. She looked through the copse of trees and saw a figure of a man emerge from the cabin, then gasped when he limped toward her, leaning heavily on a cane.

Struggling for control of her emotions and her traitorous heart, she shook her head. Why had Jake chosen to reappear today, using the very guise he had used to snare her attentions on the first day they had met?

She clenched her fists as he approached and readied herself to give the speech she had prepared, but had not expected to deliver until she arrived in New York City this afternoon. When he finally emerged from behind the trees separating them, she clapped her hand to her heart. The face before her was of a much younger adolescent standing a few paces away, timidly smiling at her.

“Ned?”

“Yes, ma’am. Been meanin’ to stop by to see you, but I banged up my knee real bad a few days back tryin’ to get back to the cabin before that storm hit.”

“You’re living here?”

A wide grin. “Yes, ma’am, me and my pa. He’s all healed up and workin’ down at the mill. Mr. Avery’s been lettin’ me keep Shortcake stabled at the livery. That mule’s happier there than those bees that feed on the flowers in that garden, but my pa’s hopin’ to build a lean-to before winter sets in.”

“But h-how did you … when did you …?” Blushing, she paused, unable to speak without stammering or forming a complete question. “I’m sorry. You caught me by surprise. How did you and your father come to stay at this particular cabin?”

He shrugged. “I’m not sure. Mr. Spencer talked to me and my pa first, then I think he had to talk to somebody else. But it’s a whole sight better than what we had, and we don’t have to pay no rent, neither.”

She lifted a brow. “No rent?”

“Not a single coin,” he said proudly. “All we have to do is take real good care of this garden. It’s real pretty. I heard you planted it. That right?”

Her heart warmed to the idea that Jake had made certain her garden would survive, even if she did not return there because she could not bear to be near the place where they had spent so much time together. “Yes, I did,” she murmured and recalled the promise she had made to Rev. Haines to give him flowers from her garden for the church. “I wonder if you would do something for me,” she ventured.

Ned smiled.

“When Reverend Haines comes back in a few weeks, would you cut some of these flowers and give them to him to put in the church for Sunday services?”

“Yes, ma’am. I surely will.”

She smiled. “Thank you.” Ruth looked around. “You didn’t happen to notice a bench sitting out here, did you?”

His eyes sparkled. “Me and Pa use it inside ’cause there wasn’t nothin’ to sit on ’cept one old chair that’s so warped, it looks like somebody set it into the river behind you.”

More bittersweet memories.

She looked up and saw that the sun was rising too fast for her to stay any longer. She bid him farewell, but he called to her before she reached the sandy path.

“Ma’am?”

She looked back at him over her shoulder.

“You wouldn’t know nothin’ about that wild turkey hen that stays around here, would you?”

She saw the turkey hen standing a few feet behind the boy and smiled through her tears. “Does it bother you overmuch?” she asked, realizing the bird had been so much a part of her relationship with Jake that she would never be able to eat turkey again.

He shrugged.

“I believe it’ll make a good pet for you,” she murmured and then walked toward home.

Ruth shared a tearful good-bye with the Garners before leaving for Dock Street, and she was surprised to see a good number of the villagers gathered along Main Street to wish her well. No one here, other than the Garners, knew she would not be arriving in the small hamlet of Alleluia for at least a week. She was not entirely pleased she would be living in one of the many towns along the Erie Canal, but she was grateful she had somewhere to go.

She trusted God would provide an alternative if He did not mean for her to be living in Alleluia, just as He had provided for her to be in Toms River and had guided her to her niece.

Lily fell asleep before the
Sheller
sailed from the Toms River into Barnegat Bay. Ruth was tempted to crawl into the bunk with her and take a quick nap herself, but wondered if she should go up on deck to ask Capt. Grant about the arrangements Elias said the captain had made so she could spend the night in New York before boarding a packet boat that would take her the rest of the way to Alleluia.

She answered the rap at her door, saw Grant standing there, and smiled. “What a coincidence. I was just thinking about going up to the main deck to see you.”

“It’s a long way to the city. I thought you might like something to read,” he offered and held out a newspaper.

She swallowed hard, especially when she saw the
Galaxy
masthead at the top, but took the paper anyway.

His gaze softened. “While you’re reading, you might want to keep one thing in mind,” he cautioned gently. “There are no real coincidences in life for those with faith strong enough to recognize coincidences for what they really are: intricate pieces of the providential design God created for each of our lives. I have a Bible in my cabin. I’ll bring it to you in a spell. I suggest the story of Ruth.” He left her standing there, convinced the past few months of her life would have been easier to bear if he had shared his wisdom and his faith with her when she had first sailed into Toms River, instead of now when she was leaving.