The Highest of Hopes

by Susan Anne Mason

  A knock sounded at the door, and Will’s worried face appeared. “Is everything all right?”

  Emma’s lungs relaxed their death grip, allowing her to draw a full breath. Will would get her to safety. Away from her father’s lies. “No, it’s not. Can you get me out of here, please?”

  Will shot a glance at Randall, then nodded. “Of course. We can go out the back. I know a shortcut.”

  Without another word to her father, Emma blindly followed Will’s lead, grasping his hand like a lifeline keeping her from drowning. She had no idea how far they went before Will slowed to a stop. He’d found a secluded alcove at the side of one of the buildings where they could avoid the last of the people who were filing out of the auditorium.

  “Are you all right?” he asked quietly.

  She shook her head, certain she’d never be all right again. She was an illegitimate child. A dirty secret. Unwanted. Unloved. She rubbed at the ache in her chest. “I just want to go home.” At that moment, she wasn’t sure if she meant the boardinghouse . . . or England.

  “Come on. I’ll take you.”

  As she trudged along the street beside Will, the burden of her father’s lies weighing on her spirit, Emma had never missed Jonathan more.

  CHAPTER 31

  Emma awoke the next day and couldn’t muster the energy to move her feet to the floor. Instead, she lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. Her eyes were dry and scratchy after a night of weeping. Her insides felt hollow as though her river of tears had emptied her out, leaving a void she doubted anything could fill.

  The day loomed ahead of her with nothing but bleakness.

  She’d come to Toronto with the highest of hopes for her future, filled with unbridled optimism that here, at last, she would find her place in the world with the father she’d longed for.

  Now all her hopes had turned to ashes.

  The idealized version of her father she’d held since childhood had died with them. Gone was the daydream of the man who had loved her mother with such intensity that he couldn’t live without her. The man who would cherish Emma with the same unconditional love.

  Instead, he hadn’t even bothered to marry her mother. No wonder he was able to abandon their child so easily.

  All through the sleepless night, three dreaded words kept echoing in Emma’s brain. Illegitimate love child. How would she ever hold her chin up in public again?

  She pulled the covers over her head. If only Jonathan were still in his flat above the garage, she’d go and talk to him. He’d know how to cheer her up. He’d help her figure out where to turn next.

  But even if he were still in Toronto, he’d made it clear he didn’t want to see her again. A tear trickled onto the pillow. How had she ruined everything so completely?

  A knock sounded. “Emma? You didn’t come down for breakfast. Are you feeling all right?” Mrs. Chamberlain’s voice sounded worried.

  How could she even ask that question? If she’d been at the rally last night, she must have witnessed Emma’s public humiliation. Along with a thousand other people.

  “I’m a bit tired. I thought I’d lie in a while this morning.”

  A few seconds of silence followed.

  “That’s fine, dear. You rest. A letter arrived for you. I’ll just slip it under the door.” A rustle of paper sounded.

  Emma held her breath until the footsteps receded down the hall. Probably a note from Randall trying to justify his actions. She had no stomach for his meaningless words.

  But what if the note was from Jonathan? She sat up in bed and peered over the footrail. What if he’d heard about last night and was reaching out to her? A faint flutter of hope propelled her out of bed to retrieve it.

  She tore open the envelope, and her stomach dropped at the sight of the handwriting. It was from Aunt Trudy. Her lip trembled. How she missed this dear woman and her motherly advice. Emma could use some of it right now.

  She moved to the window seat and scanned the brief note, her heart pinching more with each word.

  Dearest Emmaline,

  I’m sorry I’ve been so remiss in not writing more often since you left. I’ve recently had a letter from Jonathan. He says that you intend to stay in Canada. While I’m happy you’ve found your father—and sisters too—I must admit that selfishly I’m grieving your loss. I miss you both more than I thought possible. Thankfully Jonathan will be returning home soon. I’d always hoped you and he would end up married and give me lots of babies to spoil. Must be the romantic in me. However, we must follow God’s will for our lives, and knowing you, I’m certain you’re doing just that. I wish you nothing but happiness, my dear. You’ll always be like a daughter to me and are always welcome here.

  All my love,

  Aunt Trudy

  Emma let out a slow breath and brushed the tears from her cheeks. If only she could go to Trudy now and pour out her troubles to her. She might not have any answers, but her arms would provide shelter and her love would be a balm to Emma’s battered soul, just as it had been after Gran’s death.

  In the distance, the faint toll of a church bell could be heard. Emma opened her window to allow the morning air into the room. The mournful tones resonated with her, yet as she breathed in the fresh air, she dug deep for her determination. Her grandparents would want her to be strong, and so would Aunt Trudy. Emma had been through worse in her life and had survived. With God’s help, she could do it again.

  She rose and took some notepaper from her night table. She would answer Trudy’s letter and take it to the post office. Then, on the way back, she’d pay Reverend Burke a visit.

  Perhaps some divinely inspired advice was exactly what she needed right now to pull her out of her despair and help her determine what to do next.

  Later that day, Emma sat in Reverend Burke’s kitchen, a cup of tea in front of her. Upon finding her on his doorstep, the dear man hadn’t hesitated for a moment to invite her in.

  “I’ve just come back from a meeting at the church and made a fresh batch of cinnamon buns,” he’d said. “Must have had a feeling I’d be having company.”

  Though the buns smelled delicious, Emma had only been able to pick at the treat, barely managing to swallow a few sips of tea.

  After finishing his own bun, the minister wiped his fingers on a napkin. “I’m sensing you’re in need of an ear this morning,” he prompted gently. “Harriet and I left the rally right after all the drama erupted last night. Is that what’s troubling you?”

  “That’s only the tip of the iceberg.” Emma attempted to smile but failed miserably.

  “Why don’t you start at the beginning, and let’s see if we can make sense of the situation.”

  Haltingly, Emma poured out the entire sordid tale, ending with the revelation of her illegitimacy. “I thought finding my father would fill all the empty spaces inside me,” she said. “Now I feel even worse. Like I’m a stain on both sides of the family.” She looked up. “I’m so ashamed of the way I barged into my father’s family as though I was entitled to be there. Instead, I’m the nasty secret he’s been running from his whole life.”

  Reverend Burke handed her a napkin. “The situation is indeed unfortunate, but my dear girl, you are in no way to blame for the sins of your parents. You were born an innocent babe, and I’ve no doubt that if your poor mother hadn’t passed away, she and your father would have wed and provided you with a wonderful family.” He lifted the enormous teapot to pour himself another cup. “But your childhood wasn’t so terrible for you, was it? You had two devoted grandparents who raised you in a loving home and gave you everything you required. Why was this not enough?”

  Emma’s gaze slid to the striped tablecloth. He made her sound like the most ungrateful girl in the world. But how could she begin to make him understand the gaping emptiness that existed within her?

  An emptiness she’d been sure finding her father would fill.

  “I just wanted a normal family,” she whispered. “The same as everyone else h
ad growing up.” Long-held visions surfaced of her friends being greeted by their parents. Fathers who lifted their daughters in their arms and twirled them in the air, gazing at them with undisguised adoration.

  Reverend Burke studied her in a way that made her squirm. “Is it a family you’re really seeking, Emma? Or is it the need to be loved and accepted? To be valued for the wonderful person God created you to be?”

  Emma hesitated. Did she dare utter the truth she’d never divulged to anyone—not even to Jonathan? “My grandparents loved me as best they could,” she said slowly. “But somehow it wasn’t enough.” She felt selfish admitting that out loud. “I wanted a parent, a father, specifically. Someone to love me more than anyone else in the world.”

  She didn’t dare look at the minister for fear of seeing the disgust on his face.

  “May I share some hard-earned wisdom with you?”

  She nodded.

  He scratched his chin in a thoughtful manner. “There’s only one parent’s love you truly need: your heavenly Father’s. And the good news is you don’t have to earn it, and you don’t have to prove yourself worthy to receive it. You are loved for exactly the person you are, with all your faults and flaws. In His eyes, you are a masterpiece. His own wondrous creation.”

  Emma bit back the protest on her tongue. She was anything but a masterpiece—more like a disaster.

  “Learn to accept that love, Emma. Breathe it in and let it fill your soul. You’ll be amazed at what a difference it can make in your life.” He leaned forward and laid his hand gently on her arm.

  Emma sighed. “I know God loves me, Reverend.”

  “You know it in your head, but do you know it in your heart—where it matters? Because only when you’ve fully accepted His love can you begin to accept the love of others.” He smiled, his eyes kind. “Love is a gift to be given freely and received without condition. It’s up to you to choose what you do with that gift.”

  Jonathan’s face sprang to mind. Emma blinked hard, fighting the sting of tears. Jonathan had always loved her without condition, without judgment. Always putting her needs first. Then, when he’d given her the gift of his heart, she’d rejected it in order to keep chasing after a man who was too self-centered to ever give her the validation she craved. Now Jonathan was gone, and she needed to figure out how to survive on her own.

  “Emma? Are you all right?”

  The minister’s voice startled her from her thoughts, and she became aware of the tears streaming down her face. “Not yet. But I think I will be.” She swiped the moisture from her cheeks. “Thank you, Reverend Burke. I’m going to do my best to be content with God’s love, and hopefully that will be enough.”

  He patted her arm. “Start with prayer and reflection. Reach out to the Lord, Emma. I promise He won’t disappoint you.”

  CHAPTER 32

  Despite the rainy afternoon, the boardinghouse parlor glowed with soft lamplight, cocooning Emma in her spot on the sofa. She had the room to herself, as the rest of the boarders were busy with their day. Emma blinked in an attempt to refocus her tired eyes, and she laid her Bible on the table. She had been reading for several hours, and her back muscles protested her lack of movement, so she rose and stretched, then crossed to the front window. Outside a light rain continued to drizzle, streaking the pane with moisture. People walked by on the sidewalk, huddled under black umbrellas. Somehow the weather mirrored her mood—gray and damp, yet with a glimmer of light peeking through.

  The memory of the rally still haunted Emma, and though she grieved the loss of her dream, many hours of prayer and reading her Bible had brought her a measure of peace. Not enough yet to fully forgive her father, but enough to let her know that, given time, she would be able to let go of the hurt and shame. In the meantime, Reverend Burke’s advice had been helpful. She’d immersed herself in God’s Word and allowed her faith to fill the hollow parts of herself, the messages of love and hope starting to be a balm to help heal her wounds.

  Mrs. C. entered the parlor and with a loud huff sank onto her favorite chair.

  At the window, Emma let the curtain fall back into place. “What’s wrong, Mrs. C.?”

  “I was just talking with Grace on the phone.” Mrs. C. shook her head. “I feel so sorry for her. The young man she fancies is marrying someone else in a few weeks’ time.”

  Emma frowned. “Andrew is getting married?” Grace had told Emma of her budding feelings for her nephew’s guardian, but Emma hadn’t given it much thought. Clearly, she should have paid more attention.

  “Yes, and he’s taking that sweet baby away from her by moving all the way to Ottawa. So, on top of everything else, Grace will be left without a job.”

  “That’s terrible.” For the first time, Emma’s problems seemed trivial compared to her friend losing her sister, the man she loved, and now her nephew. “Do you think she’ll go back to England?”

  “I imagine she will. There won’t be much point staying here if she can’t be part of little Christian’s life.”

  Emma swallowed a sudden rush of tears. The same thought had been circling in her brain for two days now, since Aunt Trudy’s letter and Emma’s talk with Reverend Burke. What reason did she have to stay in Canada? Her father certainly didn’t want her in his life. And though she loved Mrs. C., the boardinghouse wasn’t exactly a permanent residence.

  “What about you, dear?” Mrs. C. asked gently. “Will you be heading back home as well?”

  She blinked hard and swallowed. “I don’t have a home anymore, Mrs. C.” She resumed her seat on the sofa. “Maybe I made a mistake selling my grandfather’s shop so quickly. At the time, I was so angry at Grandad for not telling me the truth about my father. I think I acted out of spite.”

  “A perfectly understandable response. You were hurt and grieving.”

  “Jonathan and Aunt Trudy tried to talk me out of it, but I was so stubborn. I wouldn’t listen. I should have known my grandparents would never do anything to harm me.” Emma swiped at the moisture gathering in her eyes. Now that her anger had faded, she could see that her grandparents had given her a wonderful home. How could she have let her anger erase all they had done for her? “I think I understand why they kept the truth from me. They never wanted me to feel the burden of illegitimacy.”

  Mrs. C. came to lay her hand on Emma’s shoulder. “Your grandparents would understand why you did what you did. Besides, you couldn’t really have run the shop alone, could you? And now you have the funds to do whatever you like, either here or back home.”

  Home. The word was a constant ache in Emma’s chest. “But I have no home or family anymore, Mrs. C. How do I start over?” Her voice cracked, and she pressed her lips together.

  “I know how you feel.” The landlady smiled sadly and took a seat beside her. “As someone who’s had to find a new home far away from the land where I grew up, I learned that family is not always the people you’re born to. Sometimes they’re the people God places in your life. The ones who choose to love you.” She took Emma’s hand in hers, and warmth surrounded Emma’s fingers. “Home is somewhere safe, somewhere you can be yourself and know that there everything will be all right. But home is not just a physical place. It’s where your heart lives. It’s where the people you love live. For me, that was Mr. Chamberlain. The moment we met, I knew I’d found my home.”

  “He must have been a wonderful man,” Emma whispered.

  “Ah yes. My husband was a rare jewel among men.” She paused. “Much like your Jonathan.”

  Emma inhaled sharply. Her muscles tightened as though trying to shield her from the truth and the heartache of Mrs. C.’s words.

  “Emma, dear, I recognize love when I see it. And Jonathan was most definitely in love with you. What really happened to make him leave so abruptly?”

  A painful spasm hit Emma’s midsection. She wrapped her arms around her waist as the memory surfaced of how dismissive she’d been of his feelings. “Jonathan asked me to marry him and go back to
England,” she whispered. “I didn’t know what to do. My father was just beginning to . . .” She trailed off, realizing how lame that sounded now. Was she the only one who couldn’t see Randall’s true nature?

  “So you chose your father over Jonathan?”

  The quiet question held no recrimination and no judgment, yet a wave of shame shimmered inside her. “Yes.”

  “And now that you know the truth, do you still feel the same? Do you still expect to find acceptance and love and a home with your father?”

  “No.”

  “Does your father make you feel loved and protected? Or is it really Jonathan who does that for you?”

  Emma forgot to breathe as tears spilled down her cheeks. Jonathan had always been her haven, the place where she felt cherished and safe.

  Jonathan was her home.

  He had been since they were children. With him, everything about her world made sense. Without him, her world had fallen into chaos. Her hopes and dreams were in shambles around her.

  “It’s where the people you love live.”

  She remembered their night at Mama Vittore’s, their romantic dance, the kiss on the porch swing. The way she’d felt so alive, so protected, so cherished. Her throat swelled with the truth she could no longer deny. A truth she’d come to realize that night in his arms.

  She loved Jonathan. Not just as a brother. Not just as a best friend. She loved him the way a woman loves a man she wants to share her life with.

  Why had it taken her so long to admit that? Why had she been fighting so hard against it?

  Emma raised her eyes. “Oh, Mrs. C. I think I know where I belong. But I’m afraid it may be too late.”

  Mrs. C. squeezed her hand. “You’ll never know if you don’t try. Maybe he’s still staying with his friend.” She reached into her apron pocket. “I happen to have the address, if you’re interested.”