Rumors and Promises (8 page)

Sophie lost track of time as she rocked with much contentedness by the fire. Maybe fifteen minutes had passed, or an hour, for all she knew by the magic of it. The sage green walls added to the calmness of the room. A lovely pastoral landscape with roaming sheep and a cottage down the road a distance hung above the clock on the mantelpiece. Enticing spices scented the air. Did she recognize cloves? Maggie sang in the dining room while she placed gleaming china plates on the table.

Realizing how busy Maggie was, Sophie jumped from the chair. “Maggie, don’t you need some help?”

“You’re my guest, and I’m guessing you have plenty to do at the boardinghouse.”

“But—”

“Sophie, my brother should have gone to pick up his package from you. I won’t have you and little Caira contracting pneumonia. The hem of your skirt and your shoes were soaked.”

“Really, I am quite dry and warm now.”

“Well, you may come fold these napkins and place the silverware, but then back to the fireside with you.” Maggie smiled and beckoned her.

Maggie’s table impressed her. Each white plate, covered with a blue oriental design, was smooth, without cracks. And each polished piece of silver matched the others. This contrasted greatly with Mrs. Fairgrave’s hodge-podge collection. “Such beautiful dishes.” They reminded Sophie of her childhood home.

“Thank you. I just love the Blue Willow pattern. They were given to me by my parents, for a wedding gift. Not a day goes by in which I don’t remember them, may they rest in peace.” Maggie sniffed.

After Sophie finished her little job, she returned to the rocking chair as her daughter seemed quite content. To be among such kind people was more than she deserved. She did feel like they were almost friends. The minister and his sister hadn’t seemed to look suspiciously upon her but instead showed such graciousness. At the doorway, she had been apprehensive, but now she felt more relaxed.

Sophie wiped the fresh tears trickling down her cheeks with the back of her hand.

“Miss Biddle, are you quite well?” Reverend McCormick’s brow furrowed with concern.

“I’ll be fine.” She could barely manage a whisper for the sobs she choked back. She swallowed hard. “I just miss our family sometimes.” There was the truth. In this happy place, she missed the security of a loving family.

How many evenings had Sophie, her parents, and Paul sat by the fire reading aloud or singing together with their happy laughter ringing out at times? At the boardinghouse, people would come and go. Esther Fairgrave was very caring, but Sophie was nobody’s daughter or sister, only hired help.

“I’m so sorry. How long have you been without them?”

A sob escaped with more tears. How had she allowed this display of emotions to happen? She shook her head.

“How careless of me, of course you don’t want to talk of it now.” Reverend McCormick placed a clean, folded handkerchief in her palm.

Sophie felt the warmth of his hand melt into hers from his gentle touch as though it were reaching for her heart.

“I’ll leave you alone for as long as you need.” He led Caira away by the hand. “Let’s see what kind of help Maggie needs in the kitchen.”

Sophie squeezed her eyes shut against the image while a thousand emotions vied for her attention. How sad. Reverend McCormick thought her family all dead and gone when she was the one all but dead to them. To see him cradle Caira’s hand in his own was too much. Her child would never have a papa to love her in such a tender way.

Alone in the parlor, she heard that still small voice speak to her heart, something she had learned in childhood, a verse from the Psalms.
“He is a father to the fatherless.”
Yes! That was it! Perhaps, even though she could never be good enough to marry someone like Ian McCormick, God was providing a father figure for her daughter.

For a long time, God had seemed so far away, but in this humble pastor’s home, Sophie thought that the breath of the Lord’s presence came a little nearer. She dried her tears. The commotion in the kitchen pulled her out of her reverie as she heard Maggie greet her son, Philip.

A few minutes later, everyone made their way toward the dining room table. Once grace had been said, Sophie nibbled at a warm biscuit spread with honey. “Delicious biscuits. Would you mind giving me your recipe?”

“I’d be happy to give it to you though Esther may have it in her box of recipes … somewhere.” Maggie chuckled.

“Do I have to eat the peas?” Philip’s face crinkled with disgust.

“If you want to grow tall and strong, yes. Besides, I didn’t give you much. Eat them up.” She tsked at her son.

“Yes, Mama.” Philip’s bottom lip went out, and he pushed the peas around in his potatoes as though hoping to hide them.

“Once again, you’ve outdone yourself with this tasty dinner, Maggie.” A forkful of the smoky ham nearly hid Ian’s grin.

Sophie had to smile as the creamy mashed potatoes almost melted on her tongue. Being with the pastor’s little family nourished not just her body, but also her soul as the meal continued.

Once Caira had half eaten the food on her plate and squashed the rest, she rubbed her eyes and yawned. Sophie let her daughter down from her lap and untied the napkin from around the toddler’s neck.

“May I be excused?” Philip wiped his mouth with a crisp linen napkin. “I’ll play with Caira and show her some of my toys.”

“That’s a good boy now, but mind you don’t be too rough. Remember, she’s a lot smaller than you are.” Maggie’s stern look was a warning in itself. “And keep the marbles away from her. I don’t want her to swallow anything.”

“Yes, Mama.” The little red-haired boy grinned and revealed a space missing a baby tooth.

“He’s only six, but he thinks he’s older. He’s grown up more than a little boy should, since my husband died.” Maggie sighed as she watched after her son.

“I’m so sorry.” Sophie spoke barely above a whisper. She longed to say that she understood somewhat how such a loss might feel, yet the words wouldn’t form.

“Well, it’s been a whole year now. Nothing we can do about it, but accept it as the good Lord’s will.”

It grew quiet enough to hear the ticking of the mantel clock.

Reverend McCormick leaned back into his chair with both hands behind his neck. “How about some music?”

“Would you play something for us, Reverend McCormick?” Her heart did a little pitter-patter at the thought of hearing music once again. “That is, after I help Maggie clean up.”

“Actually, I was hoping that you would do us the honor.”

“Me?”

He sat up and folded his hands on the table. “I remember hearing someone say how they used to play the piano. I daresay
that your landlady’s pianoforte is hardly fit for Beethoven or Chopin. Sadly enough, that instrument has already seen better days.”

Sophie couldn’t contain the joy that bubbled up. Her fingers almost throbbed with the desire to touch a fine instrument again. She reached for the empty plates near her place and stacked them.

“You really don’t have to, Miss Biddle. You’re our special guest.” Ian tugged at the back of her chair and pulled it away from the table when she allowed him.

“But the sooner Maggie’s done, she can join us. I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“All right then.” He lent a hand as well. A little while later, the last dish was dried and put back in place.

“Come, Miss Biddle, let me show you the piano I’ve been blessed with.” Ian offered his arm. Sophie placed her hand in the crook of his elbow ever so lightly.

“I inherited it along with my sister.”

“I think he only let Philip and me move in because we were bringing the piano.” Maggie grinned.

“Well, I must say, it sweetened the deal.”

The dark polished wood gleamed in the daylight that streamed through the parlor window. He pulled the seat out for her. She sat down and lifted the lid from ivory keys. Sophie had to touch them to see if they were real.

“It’s a Bidershem piano, one of
the
best in the country.” Reverend McCormick gestured toward it.

“Why yes.” She nodded. “So it is.” Her voice caught in her throat, and she looked away. Heat crept up her neck and spread to her cheeks. She wanted to hide, to fold up like sheet music and slip underneath the cumbersome instrument.

The piano loomed before her. The shining mahogany finish made her want to cry for the desire of having one of these beautiful pianos
again. Its clean ivory keys begged her to touch them, and yet they mocked her. Weren’t they so much like the ones she had learned on?

Sophie gripped its edge and swallowed against the burning sensation at the back of her throat. She tried not to shake visibly, yet her whole being trembled inside until a shiver coursed down her spine. She blinked and then focused on arranging the music in front of her, anything that would make the reverend and Maggie believe that nothing was amiss.

Sophie brushed her fingertips across several keys. Two expectant people watched her. She wondered if she could muster the strength to play the splendid instrument before her, one that was so deeply entwined with her past.

CHAPTER 4

T
he clean smell of soap and a spicy, citrus scent made Sophie more aware of Ian McCormick’s presence as he leaned casually against the side of the piano. “Is something wrong, Sophie?”

“I’m a little warm.”
For one thing.
The heat of turmoil, fear, and embarrassment worked its way from inside to out.

With a shaky hand, Sophie opened the sheet music before her and set her fingers to performing. She had played this brand of piano over a thousand times before. Once she steadied her fingers, they flew over the keys and Chopin’s composition filled the room, drowning out even the childish laughter of Caira and Philip. For several minutes, the world’s cares ceased to exist. Sophie took solace in the music, transported to another time and place in her mind.

How old had she been at her first recital? Eight? Nine? She remembered looking down and clasping her hands together until Papa prompted her to greet each guest at the entrance to their large parlor. She walked across deep burgundy and hunter green Persian rugs and sat down on the stool provided. Paul stood next to her, nodding and smiling. Her brother readied himself to turn the pages as she scaled the keyboard. Papa, Mama, and all the audience
clapped after the last chord had been pounded out. Sophie had adored the feeling of such approval.

Maggie’s piano transported Sophie far away from the others in the parlor. With passion, she poured the aches of heart and soul, betrayal and love lost out through the music she played. Relieved, she finished, looking up to find the reverend staring at her with his mouth open. He tapped his forefinger on his chin for a moment.

“Ian, this young woman deserves applause!” Maggie clapped and her brother joined in. Soon Caira left Philip with a pile of blocks and climbed up next to Sophie so she could bang on the keys. Then the little one smiled and clapped as though hoping to gain the same approval her mama had.

“That’s an incredible gift you have!” Did the depth of expression in his lake-colored eyes reveal admiration? Was it possible?

Sophie bowed her head. The emotional energy she’d given to her playing left her spent. Sadness returned. The real world surrounded her again. “Thank you.” She caressed the ivory keys once more before she stood from the bench to face the present.