“This is my favorite verse,” she would say before reading it aloud, her finger tracing each word. But the next night, she’d have a new favorite verse, and then another, and another, and when she was asked, she’d just say, “Every verse is my favorite.”
Miranda thought her mother would most definitely approve of Richard. They’d likely sit and share favorite scriptures until dawn, if they had the opportunity.
It had been two years now since her mother had passed away. Two years of feeling that hollow ache, and as she recalled, her mother had been reading the Bible that day too. “This is my favorite verse,” she’d said, weakly tapping the page.
Miranda had walked over to the bed to see what her mother was talking about. Ask and ye shall receive . . . to him that knocketh, it shall be opened.
If all she needed to do was ask, she’d ask God to heal her mother. She would knock, and she would be blessed.
But nothing was opened to her. Nothing was granted. Her mother had passed away that night, leaving Parker and Miranda to figure out their lives alone. Leaving them to sell their house and move to Topeka, wondering what steps they should take and how they should move forward—if that was even possible.
Parker had found his next step. Miranda was still frozen in place.
Chapter Nine
Christmas morning began with a sky so bright and blue, it was hard to believe how cold it was. Emma put more wood in the stove, then all the girls sat on their beds to exchange the simple gifts they had for each other. Miranda had embroidered flowers on lengths of ribbon to make bookmarks for her friends, and extracted a promise from each of them that they’d do more reading in the new year.
“I’m so glad we have each other,” Nora said after all the gifts had been opened. “I know that most of us came here because we didn’t have anywhere else to be, but now we’re in the best place of all because we’ve become sisters. Thank you for the love and support you’ve given me since I arrived here—you’ve blessed my life in so many ways.”
Miranda gave her friend a smile. Only half the girls in the room knew that Nora had been pregnant when she arrived—they’d kept the secret so she might have a chance at a normal life, and that had bonded them together.
“Yes, thank you.” Josie surprised everyone by speaking up. “Callie, Kate, and I haven’t been very easy to get to know, but you’ve done your best, and we appreciate that.”
“So . . . why haven’t you been easy to get to know?” Emma asked flat out. “Maybe I shouldn’t be asking, but you’ve been here a while now, and we’ve shown you that we’re trustworthy, haven’t we?”
Josie glanced at Callie and Kate. Some sort of communication must have passed between them because Josie took a deep breath and said, “All right, we’ll tell you, but you’ve got to keep our secret. Promise us.”
All the girls in the room nodded.
“Mr. and Mrs. Brody know our secret, but they’re the only ones. The truth is . . .” She pulled in another deep breath. “While we were working in Denver, we saw . . . we saw our boss kill someone.” A shudder ran through her. “It was really horrible, and we don’t want to talk about it. But then he threatened to kill us if we told anyone. We couldn’t let him get away with it, so we talked to the police, and then we left town as quickly as we could. We don’t know if he went to jail or if he somehow got off, and we don’t know if he sent his brother after us or maybe he’s chasing us himself . . .”
“Or maybe no one’s chasing us at all,” Kate interjected.
“Maybe that.” Josie might have agreed with her friend verbally, but she didn’t sound like she believed it. “Whatever the case may be, we’re scared that we’ll be found because if we are, our lives are over—quite literally.”
“I’m so glad you told us.” Ruth, whose bed was next to Josie’s, leaned over and squeezed the girl’s shoulder. “Now that we know, we can be on the lookout.”
“And we can help protect you, too,” Carrie added. “We all know how to shoot, remember?”
Josie smiled and nodded. All the waitresses at the Brody were taught how to shoot and had been given a small pistol by Mr. Brody himself.
“Just tell us what we’re looking for,” Emma said. “Was your boss bald or fat, was he a hunchback . . . Give us a description, and we’ll do everything we can to keep you safe. We’ll be like your own personal vigilantes.”
“Thank you,” Callie said, smiling even as her eyes brimmed with tears. “Thank you so much.”
Miranda shook her head. Trust Carrie and Emma to get right on board with the idea of hunting down the miscreants and bringing them to justice. Chances were excellent that the three new waitresses were now safe, and while Miranda would keep her eyes open too, she didn’t expect anything to come of it. The assurances would, however, help Josie, Kate, and Callie feel safe enough to start again, and that was worth it.
The room was now toasty warm, and the waitresses slid out from under their blankets to get dressed. It would have been lovely to stay in bed longer, but the trains never stopped, and it would soon be time for the first meal service of the day. Ruth, Sarah, and Kate had put together a special Christmas breakfast, a treat for those who had to be away from home, trundling along on snowy tracks when they’d much rather be with their loved ones. Half the waitresses would serve, and the other half would be free to attend the Christmas service at the church. Miranda was glad to be on the dining room shift—she’d had her fill of sermons as of late.
Between the overnight guests at the hotel and the few passengers who wandered in, they only served twenty, and cleanup was a breeze. Miranda was just gathering up the soiled table linens when a little boy entered the dining room clutching an envelope.
“Are you . . .” He screwed up his face in concentration. “Miss Monroe?”
“Yes, I am,” she told him.
He exhaled with relief. “I’m sent to give you this.” He handed over the envelope.
“Thank you. Now, tell me—why are you here instead of at home with your family on Christmas morning?”
He shrugged. “Need the pennies, miss. The pastor has me come over every morning to take around messages, and he gives me pennies. If I skip a day, I skip pennies, see.”
“I do see.” Miranda asked him to wait a minute while she slipped into the kitchen and wrapped up a few leftover cinnamon buns. “Here,” she said, placing the bundle in his hands. “Merry Christmas.” She’d be asking the pastor more about this boy.
“Thank you, miss. Merry Christmas to you too.” He gave her a quick nod, then disappeared as quickly as he’d come.
Miranda studied the envelope. The boy said he delivered messages from the pastor, but this handwriting was definitely feminine. So, not from Richard, either. She tried not to be disappointed.
Dear Miranda,
Do you think you could spare a minute today to pay me a visit? I wanted to come by, but Celeste has been colicky, and I’m sure she’d completely disrupt the festive atmosphere at the hotel. If you can’t, perhaps tomorrow?
Olivia
Miranda would be helping Josie prepare the trifle they’d serve for dessert that night, but once that was done, she’d have a couple of free hours. And she could use the walk.
She mixed up the cake and placed the pans in the oven, then prepared the fruit. The chatter in the kitchen was light and happy. Sarah had stayed home to rest, and Miranda was glad of it. Her friend had insisted that she wasn’t going to have a baby in the center of the kitchen, but Miranda wasn’t convinced, and she felt much more relaxed knowing that Sarah was taking care of herself. She’d be back later, though—and Miranda intended to keep an eagle eye on her.
***
When Miranda rapped on the door of the parsonage, she was expecting to see Mrs. Little on the other side. Instead, she came face-to-face with Richard.
“Oh! Hello,” she said, taking a step backward. “I didn’t know you’d be answering the door.”
“I was just walking past it and thought I
’d save Mrs. Little the trouble.” They looked at each other awkwardly for a moment, and then he blinked and shook his head. “I’m sorry. Won’t you please come in?”
He held the door open a little farther, and she came inside, wiping her feet on the mat. “May I take your coat?” he asked.
She took it off and handed it to him. He reached behind her to hang it up, and when he turned back, she was somewhat trapped between him and the wall behind her. He was close, so very close, and she could smell the soap he’d used that morning. Her heart skipped a beat, then started to pound, and she wasn’t sure she was breathing properly.
He took one step back, but then stopped, his eyes not leaving hers. She thought he was going to say something, but instead, he reached out, cupped her neck with his hand, and closed the distance between them, brushing his lips against hers ever so lightly. She hadn’t planned for any such thing to happen. She’d actually planned to avoid him at all costs, but that didn’t matter now. All that mattered was this kiss, this moment, and she wrapped her fingers around his lapel and pulled him even closer.
Far too soon, he stepped back again and shook his head. “I’m sorry. I promised to give you time.”
“I . . .” She wanted to tell him that it was all right, that she actually wanted him to kiss her again, but he was already climbing the stairs to the second floor, and she leaned against the wall to steady herself. What on earth was going on? She felt like she was caught in a tornado—one minute, wanting to push him away, and the next minute, literally pulling him closer. Was that better or worse than being caught in a stampede? She wasn’t sure.
“Miranda? Is that you?”
She straightened and put on a smile as Olivia entered the hallway. “Yes, it’s me. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas to you too. I hope I didn’t interrupt your holiday by asking you to come.”
“We celebrated last night and early this morning, so your timing was perfect.”
“Good. Come into the parlor with me. Celeste is finally asleep, and Mrs. Little has her tucked up nice and warm in the kitchen.”
Miranda took the seat she was offered, and Olivia sat next to her with a little sigh. “Oh, goodness. That little girl. I thank God every day that we have her, but I had no idea just how much work she was going to be, and she’s not even mobile yet. Richard’s the only one who could calm her down this morning.”
“Richard?” Miranda was surprised.
“Yes. He’s got quite a knack with babies.” Olivia settled back in her chair and fixed a look on Miranda. “So, tell me what’s going on between the two of you.”
Miranda was tempted to say that everything was fine, but she knew Olivia wouldn’t accept that as an answer. “I can’t be what he needs,” she said after a long moment.
“Oh? And what does he need?”
“Someone with the same beliefs. Someone who doesn’t doubt and question. Someone who isn’t angry with God.”
“And you are?”
“Yes. Almost all the time.”
Olivia chuckled. “Are you sure you’re describing yourself? Because it almost sounds like you’re talking about me.”
Miranda blinked. “I’m sorry—what? Why would I be talking about you?”
“Because you just described my exact attitude when I first came to Topeka.” Olivia folded her hands on her stomach and made herself a little more comfortable. “You’ve never in your life met anyone as stubborn and prideful as I was, Miranda. I’m embarrassed to think about it now, actually.”
It was hard for Miranda to imagine Olivia behaving that way. “What changed you?” she asked.
“Getting thrown in a pond by Robert Osbourne.”
“What?” Had she heard correctly?
Olivia laughed. “Yes, he threw me in a pond. He’d had enough of me and my ridiculousness, and he picked me up and tossed me right in. Oh, I was furious—I’ve never been so angry in my life. But he was right—I needed to be taken down a peg or two, even if I wasn’t thrilled with his methods.”
“I don’t think I want Richard to throw me in a pond. It’s rather cold outside.”
“Yes, it is.” Olivia looked at her more seriously. “And while it worked for me, I’m not sure it would work for you.”
“No, I’m quite sure it wouldn’t. The things that are wrong with me are a bit too deep to fix, I’m afraid.” Miranda studied the pattern of the rug on the floor. “The only man I’ve ever wanted to marry has suddenly come back into my life, fallen in love with me, and he just kissed me by your front door, and I don’t have the faintest idea what to do about any of it.”
“He kissed you by the front door, you say?” Olivia quirked an eyebrow. “Is that any way for a proper houseguest to behave?”
“I don’t know, but that’s what happened.” Miranda sighed. “I know he’s supposed to be a pastor—after hearing him preach yesterday, it’s obvious. But it’s making things so complicated. If he’d become an architect or a train engineer like he once talked about, we wouldn’t be having this conflict.”
“I don’t know about that,” Olivia said. “There’s always some sort of conflict in marriage. It’s just a matter of how you choose to deal with it.”
“You worked through your difference of beliefs with Pastor Osbourne—tell me how you did it.”
Olivia looked thoughtful. “I’m going to let you in on a little secret, Miranda. The truth is, I still disagree with my husband sometimes. I’ve come a very long way, but I’m still prideful, and I’m still stubborn, and there are doctrinal things that I simply don’t understand. When we discuss them, I try to bring them up calmly, and he always listens to me and tries to answer me fairly. The point is, I’m still struggling, but because I love my husband, I’m willing to stick it out. And because he loves me, he’s patient with me.”
“But you seem like the perfect pastor’s wife,” Miranda replied, surprised at what she was hearing.
“I’m the perfect wife for him because I love him,” Olivia said. “When he comes home after a hard day, he’s not looking for a wife who can recite the Ten Commandments in alphabetical order—he’s looking for someone who will wrap her arms around him and tell him she’s proud of him. The rest will come in time—and I’m getting there.”
Miranda didn’t know how to reply to that. Could she marry Richard, knowing they were so very different? Would it be fair to him? She imagined she could compromise as Olivia had done if Richard was willing to talk things over like the pastor did with his wife—that sounded like a fair balance. But wouldn’t he be so much better off with a wife who didn’t question the very core of his profession?
“Is love enough?” she asked after a moment.
“If it’s the right kind of love, yes, because everything else will blossom from there.” Olivia leaned forward. “Do . . . do you mind sharing why you’re so angry at God?”
Miranda felt as though she’d already rehashed the entire thing in her mind a million times, but she supposed she could do it once more. “And so, when I relied on His promise—His words—and I knocked, He didn’t answer. He failed me,” she said in conclusion. “He took my mother, but He didn’t take my pain. He didn’t ease that burden. I’m still carrying it two years later.”
Olivia reached over and took her hand. “That’s a horribly heavy trial to bear,” she said softly.
“Yes. It really is.” Miranda shook her head, trying to keep her deeper emotions at bay. “Parker was wonderful, though—he stepped in and finished raising me. He’s always stepped in—when our father died, he became the man of the house so naturally, it was like he’d been prepared for it somehow. And then he became my guardian, and he never once resented it. Or if he did, he never showed it. He could have done a dozen other things with his life besides taking care of me, but we managed to make a home for ourselves, just the two of us.”
“I’ve thought very highly of Parker since he came here, and of you, too,” Olivia replied. “You must have had remarkable parents to
turn out as well as you did.”
“They were wonderful parents.”
“No wonder you miss them so very much.” Olivia leaned back in her chair, looking thoughtful again. “I can’t help but ask . . . but no, I’m sure you’ve had enough lectures for one holiday. Never mind.”
“If you’re trying to pique my curiosity, you’ve succeeded,” Miranda said. “Go ahead and ask.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” Or maybe she wasn’t, depending on what Olivia was planning to say.
“You mentioned trusting in the Lord’s word when He said that if we asked, we would receive.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“You asked Him to spare your mother’s life, but . . . did you ask Him to lift the burden of her death?”
Miranda shook her head slightly, not understanding.
“He told us that He would be there to succor us in our grief. Did you ask Him?”
“I . . . I thought it was something He would just do. If He was going to, that is.”
Olivia nodded. “I’m fairly new to religion myself, as you now know, so please don’t think I’m trying to set myself up as some kind of authority, but I think . . . if He lifted our burdens automatically, before we had the chance to ask, we wouldn’t know the difference, and we wouldn’t recognize His hand in our lives.”
“You mean . . . we wouldn’t know how much we’d been hurting, so we wouldn’t know when the relief came?”
“Something like that. I know it’s an odd analogy, but that’s how I think of it. Hurting makes us vulnerable enough to ask for help, and then we’re more easily able to accept the help when it comes.”
A baby’s cry sounded from the other room, and Olivia grinned. “Lecture time is over. Celeste has come to your rescue.”
“Thank you for taking the time to speak with me,” Miranda said, coming to her feet. “Was this why you sent for me?”
“Yes. Playing matchmaker is my new obsession—I’m determined to see everyone as happily married as I am.” Olivia smiled when Mrs. Little entered the room, Celeste tucked up in her arms. She accepted her daughter from the housekeeper and snuggled her close. “Can you believe there was a time when I didn’t even like children?”
A Christmas Promise (Kansas Crossroads Book 16) Page 9