Rumors and Promises (38 page)

The front door hinges creaked, and she turned away, sensing that Ian had come out.

“Sophie.” His voice was gentle, coaxing.

“Yes?” She could barely speak.

“I think—I believe we need to talk.”

Sophie froze in her seat. Though she loved him, she didn’t suppose that he would feel the same way. She was no longer pure. Surely, as a minister of the Lord, he must sense that she was the wrong kind of woman for him. He only wanted to reveal those very facts. That was what Ian wanted to talk to her about.

“Sophie, would you mind if I sit down?”

“Go ahead.” She still did not turn to look at him and hoped she sounded nonchalant enough. Then the swing moved under both of their weights, and it seemed the whole porch trembled.

“I wanted to talk to you about what Mr. Graemer said.”

Here it came—how nice a girl he thought she was, but how he needed a different kind of woman for a wife. She would always be like a sister to him, that the moment of closeness in the orchard had been a mistake.

“I suppose we would be foolish to think that nobody noticed that I care for you.”

Sophie swung around, grasping the arm of the porch swing. “What?” She blinked. Had she heard him right? She must have, for the intensity in his lake-blue eyes must be revealing the truth.

“It wouldn’t be proper for clergy to be dishonest, now, would it?” His mouth curled into a slight grin. “What I’m trying to say is that I do care for you very deeply.”

Sophie’s mouth fell open, still struggling to grasp what he said was real and not a pleasant figment of her imagination.

Ian took her hand and placed a light kiss on the back, which felt real enough. “Are you inclined toward me at all?”

Instead of responding, Sophie pulled her hand away again, covering her face.

“What, dearest?” He touched her shoulder.

She moaned. What could she tell him? That she loved him, but she must leave because she had some terrible secret, like leprosy? Oh, sure, she could tell him she was fleeing to a leper colony. That might work better than revealing her ruse. “There’s something that’s going to change how you feel about me.”

His arm went around her shoulders gently. Ian leaned toward her and laid the side of his face on the top of her head. She could feel the warmth of his breath.

“Sophie, there’s nothing that I could learn about you that would change how I feel. I wish you would trust me … completely.”

At least a minute passed during the silence between them. Ian waited. Surely now she would feel she could confide in him.

“Are you sure about that, Ian?”

“Yes. Do you think so little of me?”

“Never.” She shook her head. “It’s myself I think so little of.”

“You shouldn’t feel that way, no matter what has happened in your life.” Ian took her hand back into his. “You still haven’t answered my original question.”

“Yes, I do care for you.” Her gaze met his with a questioning look.

“Sophie, I didn’t want to press you, but Mr. Graemer is right. I can’t let you get away.”

“Get away? What do you mean?”

“Perhaps this is the time for me to ask you …” Ian felt like a shy schoolboy. There was nothing he wanted more than to ask
for Sophie’s hand in marriage, but until she confided in him, he wasn’t comfortable taking that step. He cleared his throat. “May I call on you?”

Sophie let out a breathy laugh.

“Well, what I mean is that if our feelings for one another are so noticeable to others, then perhaps it’s time that I court you properly before someone else can.”
And coax you to trust me completely.
But he couldn’t form those words aloud.

“Court me? Who else would be interested when Gertrude Wringer has accused me of being disreputable? Besides, such a relationship with me would cause more rumors. And that couldn’t be good for you.”

Ian loved her but was it enough when secrets hung between them? Yet, other than the fact that Sophie hid that Caira was her daughter, he’d not seen any of the ill behavior Gertrude accused her of. Being worried about a perfect reputation before had only caused him regret in his life. “Sophie, I care for you very deeply. Would I declare my intentions toward you on Esther’s front porch if I didn’t?” The world faded around them.

“I suppose that’s true. Perhaps I’m being foolish.”

“Then may I pay you court, my dearest?”

“Yes,” she croaked out. “I only hope that you won’t be disappointed.”

Now it was Ian’s turn to laugh. “Never.” He sat next to her, and she allowed herself to be drawn into his arms.

Sophie relaxed into his embrace. Perhaps she would tell him soon; then they could contact her parents. He’d ask her father properly for her hand in marriage.

Desire to kiss her pink lips, bowed into a smile, overcame him. “Now where were we when Maggie interrupted us at the picnic?”

Sophie smiled. “I believe—”

Gently, he touched his mouth to hers. He never wanted to frighten her after what she’d been through at the hands of an evil man. Her willingness, as her soft lips met his, surprised him.

The door flew open. “Reverend! Sophie! Mr. Graemer’s taken a turn for the worse.”

Ian pulled away from her. Esther blinked, looking stunned for a moment. “Well, it’s about time you two figured things out.” Her hands went up into the air. “But right now, I need your help.”

Sophie’s secrets would have to wait.

CHAPTER 22

E
zekiel Graemer died a day later. Two days after the funeral, Esther sighed and shook her head. “Sophie, that dear old man was like family.” She drew in a deep breath and let it out as she darned the worn toe of a sock and sniffled. “We didn’t know much about him, except that he fought for the Grand Army of the Republic, until we looked through his personal papers.”

Sophie stopped stitching the back of an old skirt, where she had leaned too close to the coal stove and scorched a small hole in the fabric. She stared at an old daguerreotype of a handsome young couple and two tintypes of young men in Union Army uniforms, which lay on the parlor table. Then Sophie returned to her sewing.

She smiled as she thought of the couple. Yes, it was a younger version of Mr. Graemer, for sure, with his strong chin and aquiline nose. The young lady had dark hair swept back and covering her ears, where delicate earrings hung from the lobes. Though they had remained serious for the picture taking, their eyes sparkled. It seemed they could barely hold back their grins, so filled with love and life they must have felt—Lily and Ezekiel.

How proud they both must have been to receive pictures of their handsome sons in uniform. How many times Lily must have looked into those faces just pondering memories of her boys.

“You’re awfully quiet.”

“I was just thinking,” Sophie said, with her head bent over her mending, “life doesn’t always turn out the way you expect.”

“It can be for the better or the worse. Speaking of the better, has Reverend McCormick planned on calling on you soon?”

“With the funeral hanging over him there hasn’t been much time, but would you mind if I went on a picnic with him tomorrow, later in the afternoon? Maggie offered to take Caira for us.”

“If you could just help me get everything set out for supper first, that would be fine.”

A leaden weight suppressed the flutter of butterflies in Sophie’s chest. She had to tell Ian that Caira was her daughter, the illegitimate product of being forced. But every time she tried to think of how to say it, her mouth went dry. “Ow!” She poked her finger with a needle.

Esther looked at her over the top of glasses perched on the end of her nose. “You’d best concentrate on your sewing.” The matronly widow grinned.

Sophie sucked the end of the injured finger.

“Oh, I was young once. It’s hard to keep your mind on much else but your beloved, isn’t it?”

If only it were that simple.
She longed to be courted, allowing love to buoy her, with no worries on the horizon, no fears of being rejected.

“My Clarence was quite a young man, too. Oh, not as educated as the reverend, but every bit as charming.”

“I’m sure he was.” Sophie forced a bit of a smile.

Years seemed to melt from Esther’s face with her wistful expression. The older woman had been like a mother to her during
her time in Stone Creek, not treating her as a lowly servant. Yet Sophie could not confide even in her employer.

God, you’re the only One who knows. How am I going to tell my beloved? Please give me the strength to do what I must do.
Tears stung her eyes as Sophie focused back on the needle and thread.

She thought it best to change the subject. Swallowing hard, Sophie asked, “Where has James been? I haven’t seen him for a couple of days.”

“Visiting his aunt. And it’s about time he did. James won’t be gone long, though. He’ll be back in a few days.”

“Where does she live?”

“Detroit. It’ll be sweltering in the city with this patch of humid weather, but if it gets too bad, they can camp out on Belle Isle.”

Detroit … Belle Isle.
A vision of family picnics at the island park pinched her heart with a grief she tried to forget. Sophie wished she hadn’t asked.