“Oh, I understand very well, Reverend. Though you don’t seem the least bit concerned about losing my financial backing.”
A flush invaded his cheeks, but he remained silent.
Though she railed against the withdrawal of his support, she could understand his predicament. One couldn’t escape the influence of the almighty dollar, even in the Lord’s house. She sighed. “Tell these concerned parishioners that I will take their opinions under consideration. That should get you off the hook for a while.”
“So you’ll think about relocating, then?” His face brightened.
“I’ll think about it. That’s all I can promise at the moment.”
Selling her family home was out of the question; however, she supposed she could look into the idea of a rental property. She and Olivia could work through the numbers to see if it would be economically feasible. Perhaps if she rented out some rooms in her home to boarders, the income could offset the expense of a new maternity home. She made another note to talk to her financial advisor at the bank.
Reverend Dixon rose and gave a bow. “Thank you for hearing me out, Mrs. Bennington. You’ve been more than fair. I can show myself out. No need to trouble yourself.”
“Good day, Reverend. See you on Sunday.”
As soon as the door fell closed behind him, Ruth let out a frustrated breath, barely resisting the urge to throw her paperweight across the room. Could people not see the good work she and Olivia were trying to do? Honestly, some of her fellow parishioners were so narrow-minded it made her wonder if they wore their hats two sizes too small. She had a good mind to parade all the expectant mothers down the church aisle to the front pew just to give the old codgers something more to complain about.
But as much as the idea gave her a rush of satisfaction, it did nothing to solve her immediate problem. For that she would need a lot of prayer and a large dose of divine inspiration.
25
Olivia pushed the baby carriage up the street toward home, keeping a steady pace so as not to wake little Abigail.
The sun shone brightly overhead, glinting off the leaves of the elm trees that lined the street. She’d hoped the fresh air would give her a new perspective, but with too many unwelcome thoughts running through her head, the walk hadn’t really helped. Even though Olivia realized her obsession over Abigail wasn’t healthy, she couldn’t stop trying to devise a way to raise the child herself. Yet unless a potential husband materialized out of thin air, one willing to adopt an orphan, she could see no other options.
The other problem on her mind was her friend Joannie. Being so caught up with Abigail’s care, Olivia had postponed a scheduled visit to the reformatory, but when she called to speak with Joannie, her request was denied. Though Olivia remembered that telephone privileges were as unpredictable as the matron’s mood swings, an undercurrent of worry nagged her. Surely Joannie hadn’t suffered the same fate as Mabel. Would anyone tell her if she had? Olivia breathed a prayer for her friend’s safety and vowed to keep better tabs on Joannie once things settled down with Abigail.
As the house came into view, Olivia slowed her steps, recognizing the car parked at the curb and the man who stepped out of it. A ridiculous thrill shot through her system, a thrill that only intensified when Darius caught sight of her and smiled. For the moment, she did her best to set her problems aside and give him a genuine smile in return.
“Olivia. Good afternoon.” He came toward her.
“Hello, Darius. What brings you by?”
“There’s something I’d like to speak to you about.” He peered into the carriage. “But I also wanted to see how Princess Abigail is doing.” He laughed as the girl, now wide awake, grasped his finger. “Looks like she’s doing well indeed.”
Princess Abigail. Olivia bit her lip. If only she could adopt the child, Abigail could truly become Olivia’s little princess. She blinked hard and swallowed.
“Everything’s all right, isn’t it?” Concern darkened his blue eyes.
“Of course.” Olivia steered the carriage through the gate and up to the front stairs, then lifted the baby out.
Darius watched her with a worried expression. He clearly did not believe her claim.
She sighed, her shoulders sagging. “Everyone warned me not to get too attached to Abigail, and they were right. I don’t know how I’m going to let her go.” She turned and started up the steps before her emotions got the better of her.
Darius followed her inside. “It will be hard, I’m sure. There’s something very special about this girl.”
Very special indeed. Olivia walked into the parlor and laid Abigail in the bassinet, then loosened the ribbons under the baby’s chin, the strings now slightly damp with drool. Two precious blue eyes stared back at her. “I foolishly thought I could raise her myself, but the lady from Children’s Aid told me that wasn’t possible.”
Darius moved closer. “It’s brave of you to even consider such an idea. I know from personal experience how difficult being a single parent can be.” His brows drew together as he looked at her. “But you’re still so young, Olivia. Don’t you want to get married and have children of your own someday?”
Her stomach twisted into a hard knot. How had they gotten onto such a personal topic? “I stopped thinking about marriage after my fiancé was killed overseas.”
Darius placed a warm hand on her arm. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you’d lost someone in this horrible war.”
Tears pricked her eyes. Losing Rory was nothing compared to the chasm of grief in her soul over losing her son. She drew in an unsteady breath. Dwelling on her misfortunes wouldn’t solve anything.
“Still, you’re attractive and kind and obviously good with children,” Darius said in a soothing voice. “You’ll find someone else, I’m sure.” He smiled, likely thinking he was being encouraging and not realizing that every word was a barb to her heart.
She set her jaw and focused on undoing the tiny buttons of Abigail’s cardigan. “I’m not looking for a husband. I’d be content just raising this girl and helping other women. That would be more than enough for me.”
Before he could say anything further, Patricia and Cherise entered the room.
“Olivia, there you are,” Patricia said, her gaze bouncing to Darius. “We wondered where you’d gone.”
“I took the baby for a walk. You should get out too, now that the protestors are gone.”
“Perhaps we’ll go after dinner when it’s cooler. Right now, Patricia is going to help me some more with my knitting.” Cherise pulled the wool from a basket. “Ruth was looking for you earlier. And Margaret is a little hurt that you haven’t been up to see the baby.”
“Oh.” Olivia’s chest tightened with a pang of guilt. She hadn’t been sure she could muster the enthusiasm Margaret deserved over her bundle of joy. Nor was she sure she could hide the jealousy that consumed her. Margaret was getting to keep her son while Olivia had not, and now she would likely lose Abigail too. But that wasn’t Margaret’s fault. “I’ll go up and see her shortly.”
A throat cleared. She turned to see Darius still standing by the bassinet. “About that matter I wanted to discuss . . .”
“Oh, of course.” She’d almost forgotten his reason for coming by. “We can talk in the office.” She turned to the women now engrossed with their knitting. “Will you keep an eye on Abigail for me? I won’t be long.”
“Take as much time as you need.” Cherise winked.
Heat climbed up her neck. “Shall we?” She gestured to the doorway and quickly escaped into the hall.
Darius followed Olivia into the office, where she smoothed her floral dress as she took a seat behind the desk. She seemed flustered, preoccupied, not quite herself. Maybe not the best time to ask a favor.
“Is this something to do with Mr. Walcott?” she asked.
“No, this problem is of a more personal nature.” Darius sat on one of the vacant chairs, suddenly unsure how to begin. “I wanted to talk to you
about a friend of mine who could use your help.”
After his meeting with Mr. Cheeseman yesterday, when the man refused to consider anything other than Meredith’s going to Saskatchewan, Darius wasn’t even sure Bennington Place was an option. However, since Meredith obviously found the idea of living on a farm so abhorrent, he wanted to offer her a better solution. Despite how she’d deceived him, he hated seeing her in such distress.
A shuttered look came over Olivia’s face. “I take it this friend is a woman?”
He flinched at the way she stressed the word friend. “Yes. Her name is Meredith.” He hesitated, knowing full disclosure was necessary, but suddenly realizing how bad it would sound. “Up until a week ago, she was my fiancée.”
“Fiancée?” The papers Olivia had been sorting slipped from her fingers. “You never said you were engaged.”
He held back a groan. It must seem like he’d been deliberately hiding it from her. But that hadn’t been his intention. There’d just never seemed to be the right moment to bring it up.
And why is that? Why didn’t you want her to know you were getting married?
“The whole engagement came about quite suddenly,” he said. “And ended just as quickly.”
She gawked at him, as though unable to process what he was saying.
“It’s been over two years since my wife died, and my family had been after me to start dating again. When Meredith pursued me with such eagerness, I . . . well, I suppose I got lazy.” He shrugged. “I should have suspected something was amiss when she suggested an extremely quick wedding. It wasn’t until I learned from a co-worker that she was expecting a child—” He stopped, realizing what she must think, and his cheeks grew hot. “Another man’s child,” he added hastily, “that I realized she was using me to cover her mistake.”
“That must have been difficult to hear.” Everything about Olivia’s posture remained rigid as she shuffled the papers back into a tidy pile.
“It wasn’t as hard as I thought. Which made me realize my feelings for her weren’t what they should be.” His gaze fell to the desk. “I couldn’t continue the relationship since she wasn’t the role model I want for Sofia.” He clenched one hand into a fist, then slowly released it. “However, ending our engagement left Meredith in a difficult position. Her father wants to send her to live with relatives on a farm out west, but she doesn’t want to go. All I could think of was how Bennington Place might be the perfect solution for her.”
“I see.” Olivia’s expression remained unchanged, showing little or no emotion, yet the fact that she wouldn’t meet his eyes troubled him.
“Meredith’s upset and confused,” he went on. “I was wondering if you’d be willing to talk to her? Make her see that Bennington Place could be her best option?” He held his breath, pleading with his eyes.
She seemed to consider his words for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll do whatever I can to help.” Though her words were polite, an aloofness in her voice told him she was relishing the task as much as a visit to the dentist.
What a mess. The last thing he wanted was to put Olivia in an uncomfortable position, yet he felt an obligation to help Meredith. “Thank you. I really hope you’ll be able to get through to her better than I could.”
“Will you arrange the details of when and where we’ll meet?”
“I’ll set something up. Maybe you could meet in a nearby coffee shop.” He doubted Meredith would want to be seen coming here.
“That would be fine.”
His breath whooshed out of his lungs as he rose. “Thanks again. I appreciate this more than you know.”
“No thanks are necessary. After all, that’s what we’re here for.”
He’d achieved his goal, yet as he left, he couldn’t help but regret the coolness in her demeanor as she bid him good-bye.
The next afternoon, Olivia stirred a spoon of sugar into her tea as she waited in Marty’s Diner for the mysterious Meredith to arrive. It was a good time of day to meet. Not too many patrons remained after the lunch rush, but there was enough activity that they wouldn’t be conspicuous.
Darius had telephoned that morning to say that Meredith would see her today and that he hoped Olivia could convince her of Bennington Place’s merits since she was scheduled to leave for Saskatchewan in two days.
Olivia still couldn’t believe Darius had been engaged for much of—if not all—the time she’d known him, and though she tried to set her resentment aside, she was having a hard time feeling sorry for the girl. If Olivia had been given the option of staying with a relative out west, she would have jumped at the chance. Anywhere would have been better than the wretched Mercer Reformatory.
Yet, Meredith’s circumstances were entirely different. Olivia couldn’t help but wonder what had led to her getting pregnant by one man, then chasing Darius until he proposed. Had the father of her child been a dishonorable type who’d shirked his responsibility, leaving Meredith looking for a decent man to help raise her child?
She took a sip of tea, forcing back the hurt that continued to surface every time she thought about Darius hiding his engagement. If she’d known from the start that he was spoken for, she never would have read more into his interest in Bennington Place. Never would have allowed herself to fantasize that he could possibly care for her.
Even so, she couldn’t quell her morbid curiosity. What would his former fiancée look like? He’d said she would recognize Meredith by her blond hair and the brightly colored dresses she usually wore. She sounded like the very opposite of Olivia—a fact that irritated her more than she cared to admit. Why did the idea that he’d almost married this woman leave a gaping hole in her chest?
At the jangle of the bell, Olivia looked up. A young woman entered, wearing a plain beige dress with a black collar and cuffs. A small straw hat sat atop her blond hair, which was pulled back in a severe fashion. Surely this couldn’t be Meredith.
The woman’s wary blue eyes scanned the restaurant until they landed on Olivia. Then she grew still, a flash of recognition stealing over her features.
Olivia’s muscles tightened. This must be her after all. She took in a slow breath, her resolve firming. This woman was in trouble and needed Olivia’s help. She deserved compassion, not idle speculation and jealousy.
Olivia pasted on a bright smile as the woman approached.
“You must be Miss Rosetti,” Meredith said.
“Yes, but please call me Olivia.”
“I’m Meredith.” She darted a nervous glance around the half-filled diner before sliding into the booth.
On closer inspection, Olivia had to admit the woman was very attractive, with blue eyes and lovely porcelain skin. Just like the china doll Olivia had cherished as a child.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d want coffee, so I asked for a glass of water,” Olivia said.
“Water is fine, thank you.” Meredith slid the glass closer. “I don’t really know why I came except that I promised Darius I would talk to you.”
Olivia paused. How could she broach the delicate subject without offending her? “Darius said you might be interested in some information about Bennington Place.”
Meredith’s delicate brows rose. “I’m not sure it will be suitable, but I agreed to hear you out.”
Olivia did her best to ignore the strangeness of the situation and remain objective. “My friend Ruth Bennington and I started the home to give women who find themselves in trouble a safe place to go. A place where they would be treated with compassion and respect. Our goal is to give them as much assistance as possible in making the best choices for themselves and their children.”
“That sounds like an admirable goal.” Meredith bit her lip. “The problem is the location. It’s too close to home. If any of my parents’ friends or associates ever found out I was there . . .” She trailed off. When she lifted the water glass to her mouth, her hands shook noticeably.
“You wouldn’t have to go out very often. We have everything you’d n
eed within the residence’s walls. A doctor and midwife come out to give the girls monthly checkups, or weekly ones as the due date approaches.”
Meredith’s eyes widened, fear evident within their depths.
“Have you seen a doctor yet?” Olivia asked gently.
“Just once to confirm my suspicions.” A rosy hue invaded Meredith’s cheeks.
“Please don’t be embarrassed. I’m not here to pass judgment.”
Tears welled in the woman’s eyes, magnifying a flash of anger. “You couldn’t possibly understand how I feel. My family wants to send me away like I’m nothing more than a common criminal.”
Unbidden images of the Mercer’s iron-barred cells flashed to mind.
“Oh, I understand, believe me.” Olivia held the other woman’s gaze until understanding dawned.
Meredith raised a hand to her lips. “You’ve been in my situation?”
Olivia hesitated. If she told Meredith her story, it might help her make a decision. But what if she relayed the information to Darius? He would never look at Olivia the same way again. Yet how could she allow her own insecurities to overshadow this girl’s problem? She drew in a breath and nodded. “About two years ago, I found myself with a similar problem. My fiancé had already left for the war, and when my family learned of my condition, they disowned me completely.” She closed her eyes until the wave of pain subsided. “I gave birth in the hospital alone. My baby was taken away to be adopted.”
Meredith’s mouth gaped open. “That’s terrible.”
“Since then, I’ve made it my mission to help women facing similar circumstances and give them the opportunity to choose what to do for their child, because my choice was taken away.” Her insides trembled. She’d only told her story to a few people, ones she suspected could benefit from her tale. Even fewer knew of her incarceration.
“You’re very brave,” Meredith said. “I don’t know if I could do the same.”
A Haven for Her Heart Page 20