Rumors and Promises (37 page)

Sophie blinked and swiped at her eyes. She set her knitting aside. “Of course.” She pulled Caira onto her lap and read not much above a whisper while Mr. Graemer snored softly.

Ian looked up. Gray clouds glided across the blue sky, intermittently blocking the May sunshine. The haunting coo of a mourning dove caused the chattering of robins and vesper sparrows to fall into the background. Ian took long, even strides toward Fairgrave’s Boardinghouse.

He clasped his hands behind his back and shook his head, deep in meditation. No matter how long he tended this flock, it never got easier to call on the sick or the family of one who had passed on. If anything, it had become more difficult as his love for the people of Stone Creek had grown deeper.

Had a week and two days already passed since Mr. Graemer’s attack? Ian sighed. Almost every day, he had gone to visit the elderly parishioner. For two Sundays now, Ian missed seeing the old man, his eyes heavy; how he’d suddenly shout out a battle cry and then calm back into a sound, snoring sleep. Afterwards, the rest of the congregation was wide-awake and listening. Ian chuckled at the
recollection. When he arrived at the boardinghouse, Ian removed his hat and knocked quietly.

Esther opened the door a crack. “Oh, I’m glad it’s you.” She pulled the door farther open to let him in. Her face was flushed, and she mopped beads of perspiration from her face. “Such a trying day this has been. Please sit down.” She motioned Ian into the parlor. “In addition to his weakened heart, Doctor Moore says it’s likely pneumonia has begun to set in.”

“I’d like to help in any way I can.”

Esther paced and fanned herself with a handkerchief. “No one has died here since my beloved husband. So many painful memories! I hate to see the dear old man leave this earth.”

Ian leaned forward, one of his elbows on his knee and his chin in his hand. He couldn’t bear the thought of uttering one of those pious, expected sayings, like, “
But you know he’ll be better off.”
So he just listened.

Esther sniffed and blew her nose. “I don’t know what I would do without our dear Sophie. Someday a man will want to marry her and take her and Caira away. What shall I do when it is as quiet as the grave around here?” She blew her nose again. “Oh dear, I didn’t mean to say that.” She mopped a fresh crop of tears.

He reached across to where she sat in a chair perpendicular to the settee. “This is a trying time for all of us who love Mr. Graemer. Let me pray with you.” He prayed for healing and comfort and for God’s will to be done. It wasn’t the most eloquent prayer, but heartfelt, and there was a lump in his own throat when he finished. But the prayer for God’s will had fresh meaning. Was it God’s will for Sophie to marry another? His heart ached at the thought of losing dear old Mr. Graemer from his congregation, but the thought of losing Sophie, and even Caira, to another man, pained him beyond belief.

“Thank you for praying.”

He looked up to see the dear widow smiling. “You’re welcome. Now, I suppose I should go visit the invalid.” Ian patted her hand before he let it go.

He climbed the stairs to the old gentleman’s room. A strong smell, like eucalyptus or camphor, permeated the area. His footfalls echoed on the wooden steps. Ian rounded the corner of the hallway and stood just outside the bedroom door.

“Please take another bite, Mr. Graemer, just a small one.” Sophie perched on the edge of the bed. She leaned toward the ill man and attempted to spoon broth into his mouth. “You must try harder.”

She furrowed her brows. The delicate way in which she wiped his mouth with a napkin revealed the kind and gentle side of her spirit. Sophie pushed a strand of hair away from her face. “If you don’t eat you won’t get your strength back,” she pleaded.

Desire to take the beautiful young woman into his arms surged through Ian, to tell her how he really felt.

“My dear, I am not long for this world,” Mr. Graemer spoke in a gravelly voice.

Ian willed his hands into clasping behind his back, and he cleared his throat, hoping not to startle them when he walked into the room.

“I’m glad to see you.” Mr. Graemer raised his hand with a weak wave.

Sophie turned toward him. Her eyes brightened, but she pressed her lips together, as though suppressing a smile. “Good afternoon, Reverend.”

“How’s our patient?”

“Difficult as ever.” She shook her head.

“I just have my mind on other things besides this world.” Mr. Graemer’s eyes were shut and his speech somewhat labored, but he wore a grin.

Ian pulled a chair closer. “Feeling any better today?” He leaned forward, hopefully, close enough for Mr. Graemer to hear. He wasn’t sure why he felt compelled to ask when the answer was obvious. He observed the older man’s graying complexion.

“Much better. I’m closer to heaven. The battle’s practically won.”

Ian caught Sophie’s worried glance. Her eyes were dewy with tears.

“He’s been talking of such things all day.” She swallowed.

“Ah, no wonder Esther is so fretful.”

Sophie nodded.

“It makes me think of Gettysburg. Have I ever told you about that battle? I was in a Cavalry unit under Colonel Alger. General Custer was there, too. Custer kept shouting, ‘Come on, you Wolverines!’ Wouldn’t you know that we thwarted the Rebels’ surprise attack?” He paused and drew in a labored breath. “For a while there, we thought the enemy was going to win, but it was the turning point for us Yankees.” Mr. Graemer swallowed and labored again to breathe.

He patted Sophie’s hand. “Don’t worry about me. Jesus won the battle a long time ago, and I’m about to claim victory when I get to the other side.” He lifted a finger in a scolding way. “It might look like the enemy has his way now, but it’s only temporary, my friends.”

Ian wished all of his congregation could face death in such an admirable way. Even in his short career, he’d seen people clinging to life. They’d peer at him from the bed, looking ghostly with dark circles and pale skin. They’d grasp the edge of their sheet and the hands of a loved one, who sat through the deathwatch with them, as though they could hold fast to this world. The startling reality was that they would leave it with nothing.

Yet Ian could understand that people were scared to leave the known for the unknown. It was human nature. Mr. Graemer’s faith encouraged him.

Tears streaked Sophie’s face. She didn’t look fearful, but sad at the passing of this dear old saint. More than ever, Ian instinctively felt a need to comfort and protect her, like that day at the Myleses’ estate where they had almost kissed.

Mr. Graemer’s voice interrupted his reverie. “Lily and I lost our two boys in the War Between the States. My darling wife was never the same after that. Often, she’d say, ‘Ezekiel, heaven is looking brighter and brighter with the boys there.’” He swallowed hard. “I didn’t really understand because she was everything on this earth to me.” Mr. Graemer looked off into the distance, his eyes glassy with fever, or were they tears?

“I suppose you’ve wondered why I’m all alone. Well, now you know why I have no children or grandchildren to visit me. My family is waiting for me on the other side.”

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Graemer, but you have us.” Sophie’s raised voice broke with a sob.

“That’s one of the few reasons that I am sad to go. But there’s more … I must tell you.”

Ian sat, wondering at what else the old man had to reveal. Deathbed confessions were often painful. How odd. The old man smiled like he had a delightful secret he was waiting to share.

“Don’t wear yourself out talking to us,” Ian chided loudly while Sophie wiped her tears.

“I-I must tell you.” Mr. Graemer knit his brows together. He seemed to rally for a moment and attempted to pull himself up.

“Let us help you.” Ian lifted him to a sitting position, and Sophie plumped two pillows behind the old gentleman.

“I’m sorry I won’t be here … to see your children.” He grinned, looking very pleased with himself.

“What?” Ian and Sophie questioned in unison.

Mr. Graemer took a deep breath. “I-isn’t what’s obvious to the rest of us …” He paused for a moment. “Why, it should be plain to the two of you. You belong together. As much as my Lily belonged with me.” He gazed out the window, looking wistful. He sighed and then wheezed.

Sophie blushed when Ian’s gaze met hers. She stood. “Perhaps I should look in on Caira. She’s been napping for quite a while.” She paused. “Excuse me, Mr. Graemer.” She spoke close to his ear.

“Yes, I can stay with the patient for a bit. Take as long as you need.”

“Thank you.” Her skirts swished softly as she hurried through the doorway.

Mr. Graemer’s gaze locked with Ian’s. “You’ll have your hands full with her, I’ll wager. She’s a headstrong one, she is. And the little one, too.” His chuckle turned into a cough.

“I’m not sure what you mean, sir.” Ian felt a twinge of guilt at such evasion. If he caught Philip doing such a thing, he would have given his nephew a lecture on deception.

“What?”

Ian raised his voice to repeat his statement.

“Come, come, Reverend, we are both men. I think I can speak to you as such. That young lady is as smitten with you as you are with her.” The raspy whisper left the dying man almost spent.

Ian felt the heat moving over his face. Was what he had been trying to hide so evident to everyone else?

“You’d be a fool to let her go.” Mr. Graemer laid a gnarly hand on his arm. “She’s fond of you, boy. And she’s a hard worker. A better girl you couldn’t find. She’d make a fine addition in your line of work.” He looked out the window, toward the sky. “Every bit as much a good woman as my Lily.”

Ian heard Esther’s huffing and puffing in the doorway. “Sophie seemed a bit flustered, and I’m sure you have other work to do, Reverend. I’d be happy to take over.”

Ian rubbed the back of his neck. He could feel it knotting up. “Perhaps that would be best for now.”

“Think about what I said, young man.” The elderly man used a scolding tone of voice. Then he looked out the window again, expectantly.

“Yes, sir.” Ian felt like a foolish child who was running from what he knew in his heart was the truth.

Sophie checked on Caira, whose even breathing showed that she still slept soundly. Fleeing down the steps and out the door to the front porch, her heart pounded like a drum in a marching band. She plopped onto the seat of the porch swing, despairing of what to do. Her heart betrayed her. She had tried to hold in the affection filling her, but like a river swelling its banks, the dam could not keep it back much longer.

She hid her face with her hands, biting her bottom lip.
“You belong together …”
Mr. Graemer’s gravelly voice echoed in her head. She had promised Gloria that she would be there to help get the orphanage and the school up and running. She couldn’t just run away. And she had tried to convince herself that being close to Ian, listening to his sermons, talking with him occasionally would be enough—just to be in his presence.

But to hear Mr. Graemer’s words while they sat in the same room, made her face a truth she had been running from—she loved Ian. Now, what would she do about her realization? Should she tell Ian how she felt? While Mr. Graemer had seen clear through her, surely he imagined anything he observed on Ian’s side of things. If Sophie honestly faced up to her feelings, they could have a good laugh about the whole thing, shake hands, and go back to being like brother and sister. But was that realistic?