Love's Story (31 page)

“Forgive me, Mrs. Hopper. I was a little preoccupied. Yes, I am Rachel Phillips.”

“Ah, no matter. These trees are like seeing the ocean for the first time, wouldn't you say?”

“A good comparison, Mrs. Hopper.”

“Well, I wanted to catch you today, Miss Phillips. I own the white house at the end of the street there.” Mrs. Hopper pointed to a charming two-story house that graced the end of town near the lake. “I live by myself most of the year while my husband is off running our mill in Bear Gulch.”

“Bear Gulch?” Rachel questioned the strange name.

“Miss Phillips, hasn't anyone filled you in on our local folklore yet? Ah, my dear, I will have such fun informing you of our little corner of the world.” Mrs. Hopper tossed her hand. “Bear Gulch, for instance, got its name when a man and a bear stopped for a drink of water in the same place at the same time. Most unfortunate.” Mrs. Hopper shook her head, clicking her tongue. “The man was pretty badly mauled, but he escaped with his life, minus half an ear. Said he owed it to good luck, a presence of mind, and a little surgery with a sailor's needle. If you want my take, though, I'd say someone upstairs was watching over the old boy.”

Rachel grimaced in disgust as the older woman continued. “Oh darling, don't worry, you'll get over that soft stomach quickly enough here in logging territory. But enough of my coarse talk, I'm scaring you off before you've even started your work. My point is that I'm looking for a little company to share my home. Obviously, I have a flare for conversation and I'm missing the listening half.”

Rachel laughed. She liked Mrs. Hopper and felt this offer must be from the Lord. Again she silently praised God, this time for a new home. “Mrs. Hopper, I would love to be your listening half. Thank you for thinking of me… Truth be told, I'm quite anxious to leave the hotel,” she added.

The women finalized the details of Rachel's move and decided that in order to leave the hotel and saloon quickly, she would bring a few items this very evening and have the remainder of her things brought the following day. Both women were equally excited about their new living arrangements and went about their morning with renewed enthusiasm.

It was nearly ten, and Rachel rushed back to the hotel to meet Mr. Lathrop and his family. They had already arrived, and Rachel apologized profusely for her tardiness, proffering her encouraging news as an excuse.

Mr. Lathrop introduced his wife, Maria, and their young son, Seth. Maria appeared to be near Rachel's age and was of Mexican descent. Her long, dark hair and tanned complexion reminded Rachel of her own mother when she was younger. She felt a tinge of homesickness before realizing there really was no other home for her now; Searsville would have to do.

Maria had a warm smile and took Rachel's hand in both of hers as she spoke. “Miss Phillips, I am so happy to have you in Searsville. You will always be welcome in our home should you need anything, even if it's just a friend.” Maria's Spanish accent was so captivating, Rachel could have listened to her speak for hours. Rachel discerned a genuine sincerity in the young woman's face and knew she'd found a friend.

When Seth saw his mother reach for Rachel's hand, he clumsily ran and embraced the young teacher, disappearing in the folds of her full skirt. As he shyly peeked up through the fabric, Rachel's heart melted.

“How old is he?” Rachel asked.

“He'll be two in three months.” The sandy blond-haired boy smiled flirtatiously at Rachel, emphasizing his rosy, apple cheeks and a mouthful of tiny white teeth.

“Seth's also a very good judge of character, Miss Phillips,” Mr. Lathrop added. “He's taken to you quickly enough.”

“He just knows a pretty face when he sees one,” Maria said, laughing at her charming little boy. “Now, we'd better be on our way or we'll be late for service.”

The chapel bell was ringing furiously as they approached the small white, clapboard structure. There were relatively few people entering the church and Rachel wondered if it was due to the work of the season or simply a lack of interest.

Rachel recognized Mrs. Steele, who was wearing an elaborate, emerald-colored gown. It was infinitely more appropriate than the dress Rachel had seen her wear the evening before, but still surprisingly immodest for a church service. Mrs. Steele's son Henry waved wildly as he saw his new schoolteacher, and Rachel smiled graciously at the boy.

“Well, I see men of all ages recognize your charm.” The voice was low and familiar and Rachel prayed it wasn't
him.
She turned quickly, as though she had imagined it, but there stood the arrogant man from Redwood. Rachel wanted to appear offended by his presence, but found herself taken captive once again by his pleasing face.

Unfazed by her apparent coolness, the handsome mill owner continued. “Welcome to Searsville, Miss Phillips. Chase Dylan, remember? We met in Redwood City.” The tall sawyer lowered his chin in friendly greeting, but kept his disarming blue eyes aimed directly at Rachel.

“Chase, where have you been keeping yourself?” Mrs. Steele was suddenly standing at Rachel's side. She walked past Rachel, taking Chase's muscular arm in the process.

“I've been in Redwood, overseeing the shipment,” Chase answered, dismissing her interruption and looking back longingly toward Rachel.

“Well, Henry and I have missed you. Now come, Pastor Swayles is about to start.” Mrs. Steele led him reluctantly away into the chapel. Henry followed closely behind. Rachel let out an audible sigh of relief and commented under her breath, “That couple seems perfectly suited for one another,” but somewhere inside, she felt a spark of jealousy.

The interior of the church was plain. Two sets of wooden benches lined a narrow center aisle. Rachel breathed the pine scent deeply, and looked toward the altar, a single table covered with a white lace cloth. A silver-plated communion chalice provided the centerpiece.

Rachel could sense Chase staring at her, and confirmed her suspicions from the corner of her eye as she made her way down the aisle. Mrs. Steele also noticed Chase's glances and tried repeatedly to engage him in conversation to divert his attention. Her attempts ultimately failed and the service began with Chase's concentration elsewhere.

R
achel's move into Mrs. Hopper's home was an easy transition. Mrs. Hopper—Thelma, as she liked to be called—had an easygoing air about her that made Rachel feel relaxed and welcome. The home was well designed and carefully, yet practically, decorated. The furniture selected was mostly pine and oak, rather than the darker woods preferred in San Francisco's homes.

“My husband thought of everything when he built this home,” Mrs. Hopper said enthusiastically. “This room here is the sitting parlor and it faces west, so we receive the afternoon light. That way, we never have to use a lamp during the summer months. I just can't abide the smell of kerosene.”

“Your husband sounds like a very intelligent man,” Rachel offered.

“Intelligent
and
frugal,” Mrs. Hopper joked, tossing her hand.

Across the hallway from the parlor, also facing west, was a large bedroom. A four-post bed stood under an oversized window, and along the wall was a matching dresser of natural pine. The curtains were a deep cranberry red, overlaid with a soft, cream lace. On the bed was a handmade quilt in coordinating fabrics. “This is our room,” Mrs. Hopper said proudly.

“Oh Thelma, it's lovely.” Mrs. Hopper took the compliment to heart, smiling broadly at her creation. The two women admired the room for a few minutes before continuing their tour.

“Down the hall here at the back of the house is the kitchen.” The kitchen was colorless, with everything, save the stove, painted a crisp white. The lace curtains over the exceptionally large windows were also white. “As you can see, we have a beautiful view of the lake here, and we get the early morning light for breakfast.”

Mrs. Hopper turned back to the hallway and grasped the oak banister. “If you'll follow me upstairs, I'll show you to your room.”

Upstairs were two bedrooms. Rachel's was decorated in a soft periwinkle blue and white. The other bedroom, which Mr. Hopper used as an office when he was home, was a dark, masculine green. Thelma looked longingly into the room, as though hoping for a glimpse of Mr. Hopper.

Tuesday evening arrived all too quickly. Rachel and Thelma prepared to walk next door for the weekly quilting circle at the Steele home. Rachel had been both surprised and relieved to hear that Mrs. Steele was a widow. This new information brought the woman's flirtatious manner and garish clothing into perspective.

Rachel found her large home decorated much like the homes of San Francisco, just as she had expected. The woods were all dark mahogany, and the fabrics a rich burgundy velvet. Too much furniture overcrowded the room, and the lacy curtains were excessively frilly for the cozy logging village. In the center of the room stood Mrs. Steele's quilting frame, ready for the evening's activities.

Thelma and Rachel arrived early and found Mrs. Steele dressed in her usual extravagant attire, with Henry standing properly at her side. When prompted, the boy addressed his mother's visitors: “Good evenin' Mrs. Hopper, good evenin' Miss Phillips.” Rachel could see she was going to have a problem not playing favorites with Henry in her class.

“Very well, Henry. Go into the drawing room and wait for Mr. Dylan,” Mrs. Steele said sternly.

“Mr. Dylan?” Rachel tried to stop the words, but they were already out.
Why am I so nervous about running into Chase Dylan? Apparently, it is going to be an unavoidable nuisance in this small town.

“Yes. Mr. Dylan was a good friend of my husband's, God rest his soul. He comes by once or twice a week to spend time with Henry. Says he's like his own son.” The latter was said with a tinge of spite, intimating there was definitely something more to Mrs. Steele and Chase's relationship. Rachel couldn't help but think Mrs. Steele's insinuations were wasted on her.
Handsome or not, I wouldn't want that man if he were the last one on earth!
Rachel thought. As if on cue, there came a brisk knock at the door.

The door opened and Chase Dylan's imposing figure stood on the porch, his focus fixed on Rachel. “Good evening, ladies. I'm sorry I'm late, Gretchen, but it was busy at the mill. Promoted Jeremiah to lead faller today, and I wanted to oversee his first day on the ridge.”

Mrs. Steele's voice became intensely sweet as she replied, “No matter, Chase. We're always happy to have you when you have time for us. Would you like to come in for some coffee?”

Rachel shifted uncomfortably in Chase's presence and prayed fervently he wouldn't take Mrs. Steele up on her offer. She intended to work hard to gain a reputation as a teacher, and she certainly didn't want the victim image from Redwood to follow her here. She hoped Chase Dylan would keep their run-in to himself.

“No thank you, Gretchen. I've got big plans for Henry and me tonight, and we've got a lot to do before sundown. Let's go, pard'ner, we're going to do a little evening fishing in the lake.” Henry remained in his drawing room chair until his mother gave him a signal to get up, then he bolted across the room and jumped boldly into Chase's arms.

Seeing Chase with Henry caused Rachel to question whether she had been too hard on the man, but her pride ruled quickly that she had not.

With Henry and Chase out the door, the women began arriving for their social event of the week. There were six women altogether. Mrs. Irving, Mrs. Thorne, and Mrs. Davenport were all introduced to Rachel, and all expressed pleasure over her new role in the township.

The women gathered in the drawing room, and Mrs. Steele brought out the quilt the group had just finished the week before. It was an artistic masterpiece, and Rachel admired the colorful array of fabric sincerely. She was now enthusiastic about coming to the weekly meetings and being a part of a similar creation in the future. The women took their places and the sewing and talking began.

Rachel's ears perked up in astonishment as she discovered the conversation centered on townswomen and was often malicious in nature. She looked around the room to see if anyone else was shocked by the openly spiteful talk, but she seemed to be the only one that noticed. In all the years of attending her mother's sewing circles, she had never heard talk such as this. Perhaps logging country was different from gold country after all. Since she was unfamiliar with the objects of the rumors, she paid little heed to the talk, until…

“I heard Maria Lathrop is pregnant again,” Mrs. Thorne said, her head shaking in contempt.

“You know how those Californios are, one baby after the other. I can't believe our Mr. Lathrop was taken in by her kind,” Mrs. Irving added, her head shaking in disbelief. Rachel's hands involuntarily stilled.