by Merry Farmer
“My poor darling.” She sighed, lifting her hand to stroke Louisa’s cheek. “I know that you put a great deal of faith in your friends. And you’re right, the McBrides are certainly wonderful people and they have done so much for you, for all of us.” She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, letting her hand drop. “But, darling, the McBrides are … well, we are not like the McBrides.”
Silence fell. A coil of fear tightened in Louisa’s stomach. “What do you mean?”
Her mother sighed again. “I know you don’t want to think ill of your friends in any way—and I’m not speaking ill of them per se—but, my dear, the McBrides are wealthy people. Their friends are wealthy people. They have and value fine things. If they knew that we were in desperate straits, well, I worry that there would be unpleasant consequences.”
Louisa tried to swallow the lump in her throat, the coil in her stomach beginning to ache. “What sort of consequences?”
Her mother looked as though it physically hurt her to say the things she had to say. “I am quite sure they would help us, Louisa. They would give us money, perhaps provide a nicer house for us, but it would all come at a price. There is a price for accepting charity. And I’m afraid that that price would be your friendships with Wren McBride and Gayle Tague.”
“No.” Louisa shook her head, recoiling into her chair.
“Eagles do not fly with pigeons, Louisa. Lions do not share their dens with mice. I’m sure they would be very nice about it, but my fear is that eventually they would cast you aside.”
“Wren and Gayle would never do that to me,” Louisa whispered hoarsely. And neither would Andrew.
“You may think so, darling, but you are still so young. You have not seen as much of the world as I have. There are pitfalls out there that you may never see coming. I don’t want you to be hurt by them.”
Her mother seemed so genuinely distressed that the bitter anger pooling in Louisa’s chest could do nothing but swirl where it was. In her heart, Louisa knew her mother was wrong, that she didn’t know the McBrides the way she did. She couldn’t bring herself to direct any of her anger at her mother, as much as she might have wanted to, but it lingered in her chest.
“I think you’re wrong, Mama,” she said simply, voice quavering with the effort of keeping calm.
“I sincerely hope I am, dearest,” her mother replied with a mournful sigh. “But my experience has taught me that I am not.”
It was an argument that Louisa couldn’t dispute. She thought back to her conversation with Henry that afternoon. What had experience taught her but that horrible things happened to good people without any rhyme or reason? Hadn’t her own life proven that evil waited around every corner to kill the joy that the Lord intended to bring to people’s lives?
That notion and the fear that came with it kept Louisa tossing and turning through the night. It hung around her even after the sun rose into a sky full of skittering clouds. She wanted so badly to have faith in her friends, to have faith in the Lord’s Divine Providence to bring her through the storm in one piece.
She finished her work as quickly as she could, and set out into the windy morning, riding her bicycle to Cliff House. Spurred by the promise of a golden future, home on Cape Ann, with Andrew by her side, she flew down the road and through town. If her mother’s only motivation for not asking for help was fear that she, Louisa, would be rejected, then she would just have to ask herself. She was certain that those fears would be unfounded. Rev. McBride would help them, and no one would shun them or think any less of them.
She was certain of her success, until she turned into the driveway of Cliff House. Andrew was walking down the drive toward her, his sleeves rolled up and his hands thrust in his pockets. The wind whipped sunlight through his hair. When he saw her, a wide smile split his face and a bittersweet arrow pierced her heart.
“Andrew.” She breathed his name, stopping to dismount her bicycle. She walked her bicycle along the drive to meet him, her heart pounding in her throat, the wind pulling strands of her carefully arranged hair out from under her hat.
“Good morning,” he greeted her, stopping a few feet in front of her and meeting her eyes with his warm smile. “You look beautiful today.”
The unexpected compliment sent a shiver of delight through to her toes, and she had to glance away, out over the choppy sea, when she knew she was blushing.
“I look frightful,” she grinned and peeked sideways at him.
“I’ll be the judge of that.” He paused and something tickling and urgent seeped into his smile. “I was on my way to your house actually,” he confessed, hands still in his pockets, lowering his head to watch his foot digging in the gravel of the drive.
“I was on my way to talk to your father.” She decided to come right out with the truth.
Andrew glanced up in surprise. “Really? My father?”
“Yes.” She started walking her bicycle slowly up the drive toward the house. “I want to talk to him about,” she glanced around to be sure no one else was within earshot, “about my family’s situation.”
“I see.” Andrew nodded slowly, falling into slow step beside her. He pulled his hands out of his pockets, and for a moment Louisa was sure he would try to take her hand.
“He is our pastor, after all, and if we can’t confide in him, if we can’t look to the Church for help in times of trouble, then we can’t turn to anyone,” she blurted to stop any awkwardness from cropping up between them. It actually felt good to lay out her plans to him.
He continued to nod in thought as they walked, reaching up and scratching the back of his head. “I’m sure that Papa would have a wealth of suggestions.”
The butterflies of fear stirred in her stomach. There was something in the tone of his voice that didn’t sit right with her.
“You don’t think I should ask,” she phrased her question as a statement.
He opened his mouth to reply, but several seconds ticked by before he actually spoke.
“Talking to Papa is one option, I suppose. I think … I think you have other options available to you too.”
“Oh?” Her brow shot up, and her butterflies fluttered with hope.
He stopped and glanced quickly to the house. They had reached the turn-around between the kitchen and the stables. To Louisa’s surprise, Andrew seemed uncomfortable standing next to his own house.
“I did have another idea,” he began. The mischievous grin that tilted the corners of his eyes made her smile along with him. “Will you m—”
“Louisa!” Gayle’s giddy greeting preceded her out the kitchen door. “I was so hoping that you would come over today.”
Gayle bounded down the stairs and skipped across the drive to slip between Louisa and Andrew, hugging her friend as much as she could with the bicycle in the way.
“I’ve missed you so.” She turned and arched an eyebrow at Andrew.
Louisa didn’t have time to wonder what that was all about. The kitchen door swung open again and Wren started down the stairs, little Hannah in her arms.
“Be careful with her,” she smiled, nodding at Gayle. “She’s had too much sugar again.”
“I have not.” Gayle pouted, taking the bicycle from Louisa and wheeling it over to the side of the house.
Wren and Louisa exchanged knowing looks. For the moment, Louisa let her curiosity about Andrew’s idea go.
“Have you been making cookies?” she asked her friends.
“Yes.” Wren hooked her free arm into Louisa’s and led her toward the kitchen. She threw a teasing glance to her brother over her shoulder, but Andrew followed them inside anyhow. “I’ve made several batches of sugar cookies to take to the families that live down by the docks.”
“We’re taking them care packages from the Church,” Gayle added, pushing in front of Andrew as they entered the kitchen.
It took a moment for Louisa’s eyes to adjust from the sunshine to the kitchen, but when they did she saw parcels of cookies, candles, and c
ans spread out on the large kitchen table. Mrs. McBride zipped back and forth between the parcels, adding a few items here, redistributing a few there. Rebecca and Judah trailed behind and around her, half trying to help and half playing a game of hide and seek in her skirts. Rev. McBride sat on a stool by the window with his reading glasses on, perusing a book of the Writings with a pencil in his hand.
“Good morning, Louisa,” Mrs. McBride greeted her with an enthusiastic smile, not stopping for a second in her preparations. “You’re just in time to help us.”
“I would love to help.” Louisa grinned in answer. “What can I do?”
“I’ve got a basket of socks around here somewhere. We’ve been knitting them all year and now it’s time to give them good homes.”
“Socks in July?” Andrew laughed as he leaned against the wall near the kitchen door, trying to stay out of the way of the whirlwind that was his mother.
Louisa spotted the basket near the entryway to the hall and fetched it. “Two pairs per parcel,” Mrs. McBride instructed her.
Louisa set to work pairing up the socks by color and size and adding them to the parcels. The socks had obviously been knit by people of various skill levels and she had to hunt for perfect matches.
“What I was saying,” Mrs. McBride spoke as though she had been in the middle of a story before Louisa arrived, “is that the baby was healthy in the end, thank the Lord. And from what Mrs. Wick tells me, he was simply adorable as well.”
“Well I’m glad, I guess.” Wren put Hannah down and went to the counter to retrieve a cooling rack of cookies.
Louisa blinked. It wasn’t like Wren to be reluctant to praise a baby.
“Now Wren, it’s not up to us to judge a soul that is new to this world, even if we judge the way it got here.”
“You know Tillie, the Wick’s maid?” Gayle slid up to Louisa’s side and whispered the story to her. “She’s not married, but she ended up in the family way. Mrs. Wick had to let her go, of course. But she has helped a little bit, seeing as Tillie’s family is poor and working-class. Tillie’s baby is only a few years younger than her youngest sibling. Can you believe that?”
“How … unfortunate,” Louisa answered. Her back itched with discomfort at the way Gayle had said ‘poor and working-class,’ as though it were a sin.
“I can’t believe they would hire someone like that in the first place,” Wren muttered, frowning as she added her cookies to the parcels. “She’s not a good example.”
“Now Wren, be kind. Yes, what poor Tillie did was out of order. But we shouldn’t go judging people’s character based on externals,” Mrs. McBride corrected her daughter without pausing in her work. “We shouldn’t be judging at all.”
“I know, Mama,” Wren sighed. “But Tillie’s externals have always been … very external. Surely if we can’t judge, at least we can disapprove of bad behavior.”
Louisa flushed bright red and peeked in Andrew’s direction before staring hard at the socks she worked with. It didn’t matter that Wren was right, some things shouldn’t be talked about in mixed company, even if that company was family.
“Compassion, Wren,” Mrs. McBride scolded again. “You know the situation Tillie was raised in. She wasn’t taught the same way that you were.”
“I’ll say,” Wren muttered, exchanging a knowing glance with Gayle as she skipped around the table to help. “I saw her once with her friends down by the marina. You should have seen the way the girls were dressed. One of them had an enormous stain on her skirt that you could see from yards away. And all of the boys badly needed their hair cut.”
“I think long hair is very popular down by the docks with those people these days.” Gayle made the off-handed comment, then snatched one of Wren’s cookies.
Louisa couldn’t tell if Gayle was defending the boys and girls at the dock or singling them out. Either way the statement chilled her. Many of the people in the neighborhood where she now lived had relatives who lived or worked by the docks.
“Long hair is popular, but washing it isn’t?” Wren asked, turning to take the empty cooling rack back to the counter.
“Maybe they spend too much time working to go into town for a haircut every few weeks,” Louisa spoke softly.
“Humph,” Wren came back to the table. “They’re too busy to get their hair cut because they’re paying inappropriate attention to girls like Tillie. I don’t know what it is about that lot that makes them so morally lost.”
Louisa swallowed hard and lowered her hands into the basket of socks to hide their shaking. She knew her face was burning, but she couldn’t make herself look up at any of them. The best she could manage was a brief sideways glance at Andrew. He stood rigidly by the door, staring at the floor with a dark scowl. Louisa held her breath, waiting for Mrs. McBride to scold Wren.
“They don’t know any better,” was all she said. They. “That’s why we have to show them the right path, care for them when they can’t care for themselves. We need to help lift up those who are less fortunate than ourselves, not put them down, dear.”
Lord, Louisa opened her heart as she stared at her hands, digging in the basket of socks. Please don’t let my mother be proven right. Please tell me that my friends won’t think of me as ‘them.’
Andrew pushed back from the wall and spun to step outside through the kitchen door without saying a word. Louisa’s heart sank. What if that was what he thought of her? She swallowed and thought of Tillie and her baby and the girls down by the docks. What if Andrew had tried to kiss her on the Fourth of July because he thought she was one of them now and that she would be easy like that? The thought ripped through her heart. She wanted to reject it, tried to talk herself out of having had the thought in the first place. But it hung on her, latched into her, before she could stop it.
“Louisa?” Mrs. McBride laid a hand on her arm, shocking her back to attention with a gasp. “Is everything all right?”
She forced herself to smile. “Yes, Mrs. McBride,” she lied.
“You looked like you were a thousand miles away for a moment.”
She let her fake smile drop into an equally fake frown. “I’m concerned about the socks,” she lied again. “I’m having a hard time getting them to match up.”
Mrs. McBride laughed, “Oh dear, don’t worry about that. Half of them were made by the children in Sunday school. They’re just a token anyhow and I’m sure the recipients will be grateful regardless.”
The comment did nothing to put Louisa’s mind at ease. “All right. I’ll do the best I can.”
She focused on the socks as quickly as she could, ready to do anything to steer the conversation away from her.
“I would have loved to knit when I was in Sunday school,” Gayle filled the silence that followed with her dreamy observation.
Louisa could have hugged her for changing the subject. It enabled her to work steadily in silence for a few more minutes. As soon as the conversation had returned to normal and no one was paying attention to her, Louisa excused herself and slipped into the hallway, as if to use the lavatory. Instead she made her way quickly to the front door, stepping outside onto the porch.
The wind had picked up slightly and clouds covered the summer sun. She breathed in deeply and let her feet take her around to the far end of the porch, away from the kitchen and the gossip.
When she turned the corner, Andrew was leaning against the post at the top of the stairs, staring out at the ocean, arms tightly crossed, dark scowl still on his face. She froze on the spot, not sure if she wanted to go to him or run away.
He sensed her standing there and turned his head. As soon as he saw her, his arms and shoulders dropped, and he turned fully to her.
“Louisa, I’m so sorry,” he began.
“About what?” She pretended she didn’t know what he was talking about, but her voice was flat and hard as a stone. She took a few steps closer to him.
He didn’t answer. Instead he stepped away from the post and ca
me toward her. She could see in the stiff set of his back that he was deeply upset.
“Did you have a chance to talk to Papa?”
“No,” she answered. And she wasn’t going to. Her mother was right, people would only look down on them if they knew how poor they were now.
Andrew let out a breath. “Well, don’t worry.” He smiled, and as he did, Louisa had the impression that he was forcing cheer back into his voice. “I have a solution.”
“You do?” She raised her eyebrow at him.
“Yes. A perfect solution. It will solve everything. You’ll be able to stay here, you won’t have to worry about money, and you won’t have to work unless you want to.”
Prickles of hope speared their way through Louisa’s chest.
“But how could you?” It sounded absolutely too good to be true. “What is it?”
He stepped toward her, reaching out and taking her hands. His smile widened. The prickles in her stomach buzzed furiously.
“Marry me.”
Her mouth went dry. She wasn’t sure she’d heard him right.
“What?” she whispered, her voice hoarse.
“Marry me.” He squeezed her hands. “It makes perfect sense. If you’re my wife you’ll never have to worry again. I can provide for you, keep you safe. If the business takes off, like I know it will, I can buy you a house and fill it with whatever you want. I can pay for your mother to stay in this country. I’ll … I’ll even pay for Henry to finish school if you want.”
Louisa’s jaw dropped open in shock. Her heart beat so hard that she thought she would choke on it. She wanted his offer to be beautiful, but it was wrong. It was completely wrong.
“But …” she stammered, trying to grasp what he’d just asked, what he’d just offered. “Andrew, I … why would you—”
“It’s not fair that you have had such a hard time, Louisa, completely not fair. Let me help you. Let me give you everything that you deserve, everything,” he pleaded, eyes alight with excitement.
She swallowed. Tell me that you love me, she willed him. “I—”
“If you’re worried about the business getting off the ground, believe me, it will,” he cut her off. “Jamie and I are determined. We’ll stop at nothing to make it a success. We’ve already begun negotiating contracts with distributors and we have men committed to work for us. So you don’t have to worry about jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire.”