Rumors and Promises (47 page)

“Just thought you might be a little out of practice.” She wetted the end of a thread before pushing it through the eye of a needle. “Pour yourself a cup of chamomile tea while the pot is still warm.”

“That idea has merit. Let me get a book, and I’ll keep you company rather than shut myself off in the study.” There wouldn’t be too many more evenings they would have time to sit together in companionable quiet.

Once Ian sat in the wing chair by the fire and set the teacup and saucer on the little round table next to him, he looked for his bookmark. Maggie sighed, cleared her throat, and let out a louder, more agonizing sigh. This was worse than her absolute silence. At least then, he knew she was furious with him.

“What is it, Maggie?” He snapped shut the book he’d barely opened. “Something bothering you?”

“For heaven’s sakes, you don’t have to ask like that.”

Ian rolled his eyes and waited.

“I suppose I should have said something earlier.” A crease formed between her eyebrows. “I was at Neuberger’s store this afternoon and I saw someone …” It was unusual for Maggie to stop mid-sentence, let alone with needle and thread in mid-air as though her mind was engaged elsewhere.

“Yes?” He tapped his foot. “Who was it?”

“That’s just it. I’d never seen the man before.” She stabbed the sock with renewed purpose. “I hate to judge someone I don’t know, but I didn’t like the look of him. He was dressed well, wearing a brand new derby and a fancy suit coat, not to mention the spats on his shoes. But something about him was odd, out of place in Stone Creek. Then there was that scar on his left cheek.”

“Maybe he’s an acquaintance of Asa Myles.” Ian shrugged, but discomfort rose right from his gut.

“That’s just it, Ian. I was trying not to be rude and eavesdrop, but I didn’t like the tone of his voice. I thought I heard him ask Isaac if he knew of Sophie and Caira’s whereabouts.” She paused. “You don’t think it was just a relative, do you?”

Ian stood and paced, still clasping the book in his hand. He thought of the day Sophie came to him with fear in her eyes, the
many times she’d looked like a panicked doe, but especially the day she’d recently told him of the newspaper article she’d discovered in James’ room. Could the fiend who’d assaulted her be bold enough to come sniffing around like the dog he was? Was he trying to ruin Sophie’s chance for peace and her own family?

“No, I don’t, but neither do I want to think about who he could be.” Ian looked toward the parlor window. How many evenings had he stared out into the darkness, replaying the tragedy that once haunted him? He’d finally laid that episode to rest and thought that Sophie’s difficulties were also in the past. Yet perhaps there was one more part of it that would need to be buried along with the others.

“Nor do I. What are you going to do, Ian?” Maggie stood and moved to his side.

“Pray. God’s strength will have to take over my weakness. If this stranger is Caira’s father, I’m going to need guidance to deal with him.” Bitter words and thoughts surged inside. Tomorrow morning, he would go to Sophie, and he would trust God to help them through this.

Sophie moved the oil lamp away from the bed, turning its bright light down to a soft glow in the glass globe, hoping not to disturb Caira’s sleep. She pulled pieces of clothing from the wardrobe and the drawers in her dresser, folding and flattening them into the bottom of an old carpetbag she’d borrowed from Esther when moving to the parsonage. How richly she’d been blessed in Stone Creek! She could leave behind her patched dress for the ragbag since she’d sewn a couple of outfits.

She smiled as she pulled out her dreary, dark brown jacket and skirt, meant to make her look like a spinster. It would be perfect for traveling tomorrow. She wanted to slip onto the train with
Caira, no questions asked. She opened a drawer where she found the little bit of cash she’d saved in addition to what her parents had given her for any needs that might arise. There would be plenty for two train tickets, and she could leave something behind to pay for the food she would pack up for them to take after Esther was asleep.

Exhausted, Sophie lay on the bed, pulling an extra blanket up over her. Caira stirred anyway. “Shh.” She patted her daughter with tenderness and let her hand linger on the little one’s back. Feeling her child breathe, and the warmth of her little body, comforted Sophie. They’d gotten this far. Mama and Papa would help her figure things out. “Please, heavenly Father, be merciful to us as we travel. Help us get away from …
him.”

Sophie blinked, staring at the shadows on the ceiling. How could this be happening? She turned on her side away from Caira and pounded the pillow. She knew one thing. She wasn’t going to let Charles take away her daughter and their new life.

How she would miss them all until it was safe to come back to Stone Creek! Esther and her motherly kindness had been such a comfort. Maggie and Gloria’s stalwart friendship in the face of Gertrude’s enmity had strengthened her. And the closeness she’d felt to Nora had been such a surprise. They’d both been hurt deeply, in different ways, had reaped the loneliness of those hurts, and comforted one another.

Most of all, the sweetness of Ian’s love, which seemed so undeserved, had been like God’s healing balm and forgiveness in one package. Why was the Lord now, of all times, letting Charles interfere? Had she fooled herself into thinking that God would forgive her deception to the good people of Stone Creek? Or that she deserved any happiness at all after all of her troubles? The whole situation confused her.

Stone Creek had grown to feel more like home than the bustling city of Detroit where she grew up. She inhaled against the inner
weight pressing on her. But what could she do except run from Charles as she had all along? “We’ll come back.” Her words, a slight whisper in the silence of the room, were a promise she made not only to her daughter, but also to herself.

She dozed on and off the rest of the night, knowing she needed to awaken well before dawn if they were to escape on the 5:10 eastbound to Detroit.

Ian turned over and over like a hotcake on Maggie’s griddle. His sheets were nearly in a knot. Multiple times he knelt by the side of bed, turning his lamp up and reading his Bible. Concrete answers evaded him. Finally, sleep weighted his eyelids shut, and when he awoke, the steely light of a gray dawn filtered in between the blinds.
Be there for her. Don’t be afraid. Forgive.
The words came to him like a gentle, but persuasive nudge.

He dressed quickly in the near dark. Maggie was making her way downstairs when he emerged from his room. “Awfully early to be out and about already, little brother.” A yawn interrupted her smile.

“Pray for me, Maggie. I don’t want to upset Sophie any more than she needs to be, but I believe I should warn her and be there for her in case anything happens.”

His sister’s eyes carried such concern. “Of course.”

Ian made his way toward Fairgrave’s Boardinghouse, wondering if Esther would be up yet, or perhaps Sophie, cooking breakfast for the men. When Ian arrived, he slipped around the back of the house, peering into the kitchen window. No light burned on the table, but he would knock on the door anyway. He tapped gently but then grew more insistent. No answer. He turned the knob, knowing Esther rarely locked it unless she wanted to keep out a
drunk tenant or she felt threatened. The door gave in more easily than he liked to see.

“Sophie?” No sign of his beloved or their little one told tales in the kitchen. He kept moving, opening the door into the dining room and adjoining parlor. “Sophie!”

He heard a heavy tread on the stairway. “Reverend McCormick! Whatever is the matter?” Esther held onto the railing, her eyes puffy with sleep and her skirt askew.

“Where’s Sophie?”

“Isn’t she in the kitchen? She’s usually up starting breakfast already.” Esther sniffed the air. “Why, I don’t smell a thing cooking.”

Ian didn’t care what seemed improper. He pushed past Esther, taking two steps at a time, and gave a quick knock before he burst through her door.

Sophie’s partially made wedding veil sat neatly folded on the bed. A needle poked through the delicate fabric and held a slender thread. On top lay an envelope marked “Ian.” Next to the veil was an envelope for Esther. He tore his open.

Esther sobbed by his side, holding her opened note. “Poor, dear child.”

He turned and grabbed Esther by the shoulders. “We must find them. What do you know, Esther?”

She told him about how Albert Johnson had been stopped in front of the house and given the note for Sophie. What a coward! Charles Warner wasn’t even willing to face her at the boardinghouse.

Thoughts bounced here and there. He needed to focus. Did he start at the hotel to intercept the villain? Or the railroad depot to catch up with his beloved before Charles got to her?

Sophie sat on a bench against the brick wall in the station, her back straight, hopefully out of the sight of the window. Pain pounded up over the back of her head, not helped by Caira’s unrelenting whining.

“I hungry, Soffie.” The child stood up on the bench and leaned on her shoulder.

“Shh, please be quiet.” She cupped her daughter’s chubby cheeks in her hands. “What did I tell you? You must be well behaved. Once we get on the train, I will give you a biscuit. How would that be?”

Caira whimpered but nodded.

“And you call me mama now, remember?”

Caira placed her head back on Sophie’s shoulder. The whole thing had to be rather confusing for the little one, and the situation had been her fault.

Was fear causing the unsettled feeling in her stomach? Or had her heart fallen there in pieces? She might as well be whining like
Caira. She’d asked God
why
intermittently through the night. Why did it have to be when things were working out so well for her and Caira? Finally. They had a place to call home.