Steadfast Heart (17 page)

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Authors: Tracie Peterson

Tags: #FIC042030, #FIC042040, #FIC014000, #First loves—Fiction, #Man-woman relationships—Fiction, #Seattle (Wash.)—Social life and customs—19th century—Fiction

BOOK: Steadfast Heart
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“We couldn't refuse her,” Aunt Miriam had explained. “She wasn't long for this world, and we felt it our duty to ease her mind.”

With a heavy sigh, Abrianna sat at the dressing table. No one understood her pain—the deep emptiness that threatened to swallow her whole. God had been her only solace. He alone could fill that emptiness, but only if Abrianna allowed Him to.

Most of the time she was strong enough not to let the sorrow consume her, but at times like this Abrianna couldn't help but cry. She wiped a tear away as it slid down her cheek and wondered if her mother had wept at the thought of leaving her child alone in the world.

“But I wasn't alone,” Abrianna said with a sad smile. The ladies had been so good to her. They had mothered her and educated her, provided for her and directed her, and while Abrianna thought them rather overbearing at times, she loved them
more dearly than any other souls on the earth. She would never reveal to them her secret sorrow. She would die before letting them feel that they had somehow failed her.

“Lord,” she whispered, settling back against the wooden chair, “please bring me comfort. Please help me appreciate what I have and not long for what can never be. Let me be strong and face my life with determination to overcome.”

Again she sighed and took long deep breaths to calm her spirit. She thought of Lenore and Kolbein. No doubt their love would grow deeper, and they would marry and have a family. It caused Abrianna only a moment of regret as she realized how their friendship would change. No doubt it was all for the best. It was the normal way of things for a man and woman in love.

“I doubt I'll ever know that kind of love,” she said to her reflection. “I don't think I'm destined for it. My calling is too consuming.” She smiled nevertheless. “But I do have love and will have it in the future. I can't help but have love because God has given it to me, and I must share it with others, no matter the cost.”

15

L
enore waited until morning to speak to her mother about the dinner. She and Father had been so tired upon arriving home the previous evening that they had immediately sought solace in their adjoining bedrooms and ordered supper trays be brought to them. Now, however, as the servants cleared the breakfast dishes and her father read the paper, Lenore decided to spring the news on them.

“Mother, Father, I know this is rather last minute, but I've invited the man I hope to court, Kolbein Booth, to dine with us this evening. I ran into him last night at the Madison School. He was there because he's been searching for his sister and thought she might be there. It's a complicated tale but unnecessary to complete at this moment.”

Father put down his paper, and Mother looked at Lenore as if she'd suddenly sprouted a third eye. She smiled apologetically at her parents. “I'm sorry, but I was so excited. He wants to meet you both and to ask you about our courtship. After all, Father, you told me I had only a month.”

“Yes, but I didn't think you would arrange a meeting the day after we returned to Seattle.” He drew a deep breath and
looked to Lenore's mother. “I find it necessary myself to go and speak with Mrs. Madison about ending our lease, so I won't be in your hair today. Are you up to such an endeavor, my dear?”

“I suppose that I must be,” Mother said, as though the very thought was exhausting. But then she flashed Lenore a smile and got up from the table. “Come, Lenore. We have plans to make and food to be selected. Mary!” She called for her personal maid.

The woman, a sturdy-looking homely sort, appeared at the doorway. “Yes, madam?”

“We are planning a dinner party for tonight. It will be an intimate affair for four. Please ready my mauve and silver gown. For Lenore, we should have the blue . . . no, the lavender Worth. The silk chiffon will give her an ethereal appearance of floating as she moves. Lay out the matching ostrich feather hair piece and lavender gloves.”

“Yes, madam. Will there be anything else at present?”

Mother thought for a moment. “Not just yet. Later this afternoon, however, we will need to accomplish baths and hair, so you can prepare for those things.”

“Yes, madam.” Mary slipped from the room as quietly as she'd entered.

Lenore looked at her mother and smiled. “Thank you for doing this for me, Mother. You do not know what it means to me.”

“Oh, I don't?” she asked. “I was a young girl with flights of fancy and love once. I want you to be happy, Lenore, and if this young man makes you thus, then I want to see things go well for the two of you. Now, come to my writing desk and we will figure what to plan for the meal and which china to use.”

Lenore wanted so much to tell her mother everything that had transpired the evening before. It had been such a wonderful
event—the happiest moment Lenore had ever known, and she longed to speak of it.

“I didn't have a chance to tell you, Mother, but Kolbein told me that he cares very deeply for me.”

“And what did you tell him? You know it doesn't befit a properly brought up young lady to declare her feelings too early. You mustn't let him take you for granted.”

Lenore smiled at the thought of anyone taking Kolbein Booth for granted. “I love him, Mother. I've loved him from first glance. I suppose that might sound silly to some, but it's the truth. I've even prayed about this. Abrianna told me that God would show me His direction for my life, and I believe that direction points to Kolbein.”

“Goodness, now you're speaking for God?” Mother shook her head. “I appreciate that your friend is a woman of faith, but honestly, why would God spend time on such a thing when the entire world cries out for help?”

She supposed it didn't make sense, but Abrianna told her that was what was most important about faith. Having faith in God when you had only His Word and prayer wasn't easy. She could almost hear Abrianna going on and on about why such things were illogical yet vital to a Christian's walk. Just then Lenore remembered something they'd talked about in Sunday school.

“The Bible says that God has numbered the hairs on our head, Mother.”

“Honestly, Lenore, you are full of surprises.”

“Perhaps I am, but wouldn't such a Bible statement imply that God cares about the details of each person's life?”

Mother pulled out her china book and leafed through the pages. Lenore knew her mother was proud of her dozen sets of various dishes. Some had been given down from mother
to daughter for generations, while others were later acquirements.

Mother looked up only briefly. “I suppose it could, but I certainly wouldn't venture to put words in God's mouth.”

“I don't believe I'm doing that. Quoting a Bible truth merely asserts what God has already said. That's why I feel that this is a direction God has for me. I'm not trying to speak for Him, but rather to trust Him.” For a moment Lenore thought her mother hadn't heard, but then she spoke.

“You sound so very grown-up. I suppose I must accept that you are a woman now.” She smiled. “If you believe God is speaking to you in the Bible, then who am I to say otherwise?”

Lenore was surprised by this, but before she could say anything, her mother continued as if they hadn't had the discussion. “Let's use the blue and gold Coalport china. It dresses the table nicely and gives a refined elegance to the evening.”

“I don't want to make him feel uncomfortable,” Lenore said, uncertain as to how Kolbein might react to such grandeur. “We could use grandmother's Foley.”

“Much too simple. It would be lovely if we were having an afternoon tea, but tonight we will need something that picks up the light. Oh dear. I completely forgot about flowers,” she said, getting up to pull the cord for the housekeeper.

When the stocky woman appeared, she seemed out of breath. “Yes, madam?”

“We will need flowers for this evening.” Mother tapped her chin. “A large center arrangement—something grand. Send someone to Matley's immediately and tell them to make it up right away.” She continued to tap her chin several times as she considered the arrangement. “It should have roses. Tell them to use the Marchesa Boccella double pinks.”

“Yes, madam.”

“And tell them it needs to be delivered by three o'clock.”

“Yes, madam.”

Once the housekeeper set out on her task, Lenore looked to her mother, feeling an unexpected tenderness. “Thank you, Mother. I know this is taxing on your first day home, and I wouldn't have invited Kolbein, but . . . well . . . he's very important to me. I know he's the man I want for my husband.”

Mother seemed perplexed and spoke with hesitation. “Lenore . . . I want you . . . to be happy . . . but you mustn't give yourself into marriage too easily. While your father is anxious that you should marry, I don't want you to rush into it. I married young and would have you wait . . . to be certain of your heart before you agree to wed.”

“But I
am
certain,” she countered, leaning forward as if to emphasize the truth. “You must trust me in this, Mother. We seem to think very much alike, and . . . well . . . I feel confident of his love.”

For several long moments Mother said nothing. Finally she closed the china book with a snap. “Well, we shall see what your father thinks of him. I suppose love at first sight is possible, and if your father approves of this young man, then of course I give my blessing. Now, let's figure out a menu for our meal.”

Lenore felt a moment of panic. “And if Father doesn't like him or thinks him too poor?”

Mother's expression was compassionate, but her words were firm. “You cannot go against your father, Lenore. It simply isn't done.”

Wade waited patiently for his turn at the sale of baked goods being held by Mrs. Madison's students. The event took place every Friday during the warm months at a nearby park, and many a bachelor flocked to buy whatever he could and to speak with the pretty girls. Mrs. Madison had a strict rule for the receptions she held on Saturdays. The men had to pay to attend those affairs. This was in order to prove to Mrs. Madison's satisfaction that they had enough money that they could support a wife. But here at the bake sale, even the poorest man could seek the attention of the pretty maidens. When his turn finally came, Mrs. Madison spied him and pulled him aside.

“You know you needn't wait in line. I have a basket full of things for you.”

“I'm happy to pay for my share,” Wade said with a grin. “The food is always too good to pass up.”

“Be that as it may,” Mrs. Madison continued, “you work hard with all the help you give us. Giving you a basket of goodies is the least we can do. But that's not the only reason I took you away. We need to talk to you a moment about Mr. Welby.”

Wade followed her to where Mrs. Gibson and Miss Poisie sat knitting. Their hands seemed to move in unison. “Ladies,” he said, offering each a nod. “You look very lovely today, Miss Poisie . . . Mrs. Gibson. Are those new hats?”

The ladies stopped their knitting, and Mrs. Gibson actually touched her hand to the straw concoction on her head. “They are. We made hats last Tuesday.” She seemed quite pleased that he had noticed.

“Well, actually we made over old hats,” Miss Poisie corrected. “A lady can remake old styles over and over and save her husband a great deal of money. Isn't that so, Sister?”

“Indeed it is, but a discussion about hats is not the reason
I've invited Mr. Ackerman to join us. Put aside your knitting and let us discuss Mr. Welby and his offer to buy our building.”

The ladies did as they were bid and devoted their attention to Mrs. Madison. She nodded in approval and took a seat while Wade continued to stand. “Mr. Welby continues to pursue this matter, and I am inclined to accept. Mr. Booth has looked over Mr. Welby's offer and believes it to be most generous.”

“I'm glad, but I'm not sure how this involves me,” Wade said, feeling rather confused.

“We trust your opinion,” Mrs. Madison told him. “We have heard from several sources that Mr. Welby is highly regarded in some circles and despised in others.”

“That's often the way with businessmen,” Wade said. “For a variety of reasons, however, I do have some concerns about the man's transactions. I'm not trying to cast doubt on his business or this offer, but I wouldn't sign anything without Mr. Booth present. And I'd make sure that the money was on the table.”

Mrs. Gibson nodded. “Mr. Gibson . . .”

“God rest his soul,” Miss Poisie reminded. The ladies gave their usual response.

Mrs. Gibson continued. “He was of a mind that a man should prove himself able to deliver on his promises. He often said that he would demand this proof in whatever way seemed necessary. Of course he also drank brandy and read a great many books that no doubt displeased God.”

Wade nodded. “No doubt.” Poor Mr. Gibson. No matter his earthly flaws, Wade could only hope that God had indeed given his soul rest.

“Oh dear,” Mrs. Madison said, glancing past Wade. “It would seem Mr. Welby has decided to visit us once again.”
Wade glanced over his shoulder to find that the man was even now making his way across the park to join them.

“Perhaps he's here to see Abrianna,” Miss Poisie suggested.

“Where is Abrianna?” Wade asked.

“She's helping Liang in the kitchen,” Mrs. Madison replied. “Poor Abrianna. She is still quite insufficient in her baking, but I will say that she does try very hard to please.”

Wade knew full well that Abrianna did what she could to satisfy her aunts. She loved those women more than life itself, but Wade also knew she was quite vexed with herself for being, as she put it, such a disappointment.

Nothing more was said on the topic, however, as Mr. Welby joined their number. He gave a sweeping bow toward the trio on the park bench. “Good day, ladies.”

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