Rumors and Promises (15 page)

The aunt’s chin went up, and her hand moved in a flourish toward her niece. “Now this is an example of a modest, accomplished young woman. Furthermore, she’s academy educated.”

Heat pushed its way over Sophie’s cheeks. Her eyebrow went up as she bit her lower lip. The venomous reply on her tongue melted into sorrow when she saw the other girl’s sad, pale blue eyes for just a moment.

“And another thing …”

Sophie wouldn’t watch that awful woman wag her finger and her tongue any longer. She couldn’t wait to be out of earshot.
Instead, she grasped Nora’s hand. “I’m so happy to meet you, Nora. It seems your aunt thinks very highly of you.”

Nora’s eyes brightened. Her lips parted, but nothing came out, as though she disbelieved what she was hearing. Clearing her throat, she said, “I am pleased to meet you, too, Miss …”

“Sophie Biddle. Please call me Sophie. This is my … little sister … Caira.” As usual, Sophie pushed the words out, unwillingly.

“Care-uh,” the little one added, pointing to herself.

Nora smiled. “She’s adorable.” The young woman patted Caira’s back.

Gertrude stood there, fuming. She grabbed her niece’s arm. “Come, Nora. We have better things to do. And she is Miss Armstrong to you,” the Wringer woman snapped at Sophie as she dragged Nora away.

Sophie wouldn’t give in to her temper—for Ian’s sake—after he’d given her a chance to be hired as the church pianist.
And for Caira.
She would not draw additional attention to herself for her daughter’s sake.

Before she could turn to walk away with the little one in her arms, Sophie noticed that a haughty-looking woman with a measuring tape draped around her neck stood, crossing her arms, next to a shorter woman, wearing a hat too big for her stature. Both glared at her through the store window. Feeling somehow exposed, Sophie turned on her heel, gulping the cool air, yet her chest felt as though it burned with the fury she sought to keep inside. When all Sophie wanted to do was take care of her child, to give her daughter a life among good people, to protect her from evil men, how could that awful woman insinuate such terrible things?

Her footing became slippery along the slushy street and the faster she walked, each step became more of a struggle.
The nerve of that woman!

Sophie’s wet skirts whipped about her lower legs like the cool blade of a knife. Images of the people back in Detroit, where she grew up, paraded through her mind. They hadn’t been much different from the Wringer woman. How many had insinuated that she had seduced the handsome and ingratiating Charles? Somehow, in the few months that he had spent in their social circles, he had won their hearts in a way that a native daughter had not been able. Then again, her own father had wanted to force her into a marriage with the cad. Truly, the children of darkness were more cunning in the ways of the world than the children of light!

The sting on her calves moved to her heart, where the cold steel of pain and rejection cut deeply into it. She thought that maybe Stone Creek would be different. Ian had seemed to become a protector to them, but it would be wrong for her to expect. Such assistance could come at too great a cost to him. But what had she done to incite such accusations from Gertrude Wringer?

Her vision blurred as she made her way through the thick slush. She took a deep breath and freed one hand from carrying her daughter to wipe the tears from her cheek with the back of her borrowed glove and stumbled.

Sophie put her hand out and hit a tall but warm solid wall of wiry frame and muscle in a black wool overcoat.
Ian!
She gazed up into the compassion of those lake-blue eyes.

“Sophie, are you all right? You look positively ruffled.”

He braced both of her arms with his strong grip.

“’Cowmick!” Caira reached out to the kind minister. This was the first time in hours she wasn’t whining.

Someone gasped. Sophie turned to find one of the women she’d seen in the dress shop window a few yards behind her, eyes wide open and hand covering her mouth. Pulling from the reverend’s grasp, Sophie regained her balance.

“Well, I never!” Mrs. Wringer’s cohort pointed at them. “Wait until Gertrude hears about this.” Her voice hinted at a smirk.

“Reverend McCormick only sought to keep me from falling.”

“Better he should keep you from falling into sin than into the mud.” The woman wearing an oversized hat placed gloved hands on her ample hips.

Sophie, her heart feeling like shredded fabric that couldn’t be mended by human hands, opened her mouth, yet nothing would come out. Ian took Caira into his arms. This relieved Sophie, who hugged her arms to herself and then placed a hand on her forehead. She blinked back tears, determined this woman wouldn’t get the better of her.

“What’s the meaning of this, Etta?” Though at least a decade younger than the other woman, Maggie appeared and placed her arm around Sophie, ready to defend her.

Sophie shivered. Ian’s heart wrenched at the situation before him. Chestnut curls blew in wisps around her face and she appeared practically as vulnerable as little Caira.

“Now, Mrs. Stout, aren’t you being a bit unreasonable here?” He wasn’t sure what else to say.

“I’m being unreasonable?” Etta turned to Maggie. “Your younger brother needs some lessons in how to become a true gentleman.”

“Pardon me? Etta Stout, you take that back right this instant. I heard what Sophie said. My brother is a man of God, and he deserves your respect.” Maggie set her mouth in a straight line, her eyes lit with fury.

“Hmm … we’ll see about that.” Etta backed down and turned on her heel, no doubt he could guess where she headed.

Ian sighed. “Maggie, you didn’t have to take her on, but thank you for your loyalty.”

His sister shook her head. “I kind of did, since you couldn’t seem to find your voice.”

He cringed. “A soft answer turns away wrath. I was trying the diplomatic approach.”

“I see.” Maggie rolled her eyes and hugged Sophie closer. “Whatever happened?”

“Before Etta supposedly caught me in Ian’s arms? That woman …” Sophie swallowed her sobs and her face flamed with anger. “The one whom I saw scolding you last Sunday. You know, I think she said Wringer is her name?”

He waited for the rest of what she had to say. Inwardly, any bit of hope sunk. Already, Gertrude’s crusade had begun, and with Etta’s tongue to add to the fury, this could turn purely disastrous. Ian nodded.

“She said awful things to me—right out in public.” Sophie stopped to swallow before she went on. “What have I done to her? I just don’t understand it. Or her niece—what have I done to
Miss Armstrong
? Who is she to you? To the church?”

Caira contented herself with laying her head on his shoulder, playing with his collar and popping a thumb in her mouth. Oh, the blessed naiveté of children.

“The girl is nothing to me. I’ve only just met her myself. Gertrude is trying to wield her power as head of the Stone Creek Ladies’ Aid Society.” But he wouldn’t let anyone hurt Sophie the way they had hurt Annie. His jaw tightened. The thought of the poor girl still caused a wrenching grief in his soul.

“She’s an unwitting pawn in Gertrude’s ploy to marry her off to—”

“Maggie, let me finish. The woman had hopes that her musically inclined niece could have a more permanent place using her talents for the church.” Ian’s gaze connected with Sophie’s.

Her amber eyes searched his countenance while her pink lips parted a bit. Her freckles were close enough to count one by one. “And?”

Was she probing to see if he was really someone she could rely on? Yet she was no Annie. The warmth of her slight form against his coat, as the winter wind had whipped around them, had attested that her presence clearly meant more to him than the tormented girl he had once known.

Ian stiffened but continued to hold Caira. Was that what it had come to? He was attracted to this young woman so he would do whatever it took to protect her? He’d been more worried about his reputation than Annie’s safety. When would he ever get it right?

“That’s all.” Ian exhaled.

But Sophie looked down as though she were disappointed in him. “There has to be more to it than that. That awful Mrs. Wringer said that
you
would be
sorry.
What did she mean?”

Ian pondered. What did Gertrude have on her mind now? He rubbed his neck with a gloved hand. “Nothing for you to worry about, Sophie.” Likely dealing with the bully was his problem, instead. No doubt Gertrude would try to block his plans for building a charity home for unwed mothers or a school for orphans.

Clearing his throat, he motioned back toward the parsonage. “Let’s head to the house. Maggie would be happy to prepare tea for you and hot cocoa for the little one.”

“Co-co, co-co.” Caira nodded her head in rhythm to the syllables she repeated.

“Gladly. Come away from all that gossip and discord.” Maggie threaded her arm through the crook in Sophie’s arm as though the girl were the sister she’d never had. “There’s nothing a hot cup of tea and a bit of fellowship can’t soothe away.”

Silent, Sophie pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. Whatever his role was in her life, Ian was still a pastor. “Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

“No.”

But for the swishing of the slushy snow around their feet, they trudged in silence. Even Maggie was uncharacteristically quiet. The same kind of discomfort of their first buggy ride together pervaded the atmosphere.

Ian’s glance met Sophie’s. His heart wanted to reach hers, to keep the wall from being rebuilt between them, yet there must be an honorable purpose. It could not be for his gratification, not because her flushed countenance and dimpled chin melted the very inside of him.

Sophie looked away.

“Are you sure there’s nothing else you need to tell me?” With God’s help, he would care for her as a sister, but nothing else.

She slouched forward a bit. “There’s nothing worth telling you, believe me.”

“Ian, Sophie’s just had not one, but two awful encounters. Let her be for now.”

“Very well.” He trudged alongside the women.

Before they reached the house, a spicy scent beckoned him. He closed his eyes and inhaled the comforting smells of cinnamon and ginger. “Come on, Caira, why don’t you ride on my shoulders?” The toddler giggled as Ian swung her up into the right position. “It smells like Maggie has been baking snicker doodles again.”

“Indeed I have, but I’m not sure you deserve any, little brother.” Maggie winked at Sophie and a hint of a smile played on the girl’s lips.

CHAPTER 9