Every Perfect Gift

by Dorothy Love

  “Hello, Flora,” Gillie said. “What’s the problem here?”

  “Take a look.” Flora drew up her skirt, her expression glum.

  Gillie probed Flora’s knee until Flora sucked in a breath and jerked. “That hurts.”

  “I don’t doubt it for a moment,” Gillie said. “You’ve got housemaid’s knee. It’s common among ladies who spend a lot of time on their knees scrubbing and such.”

  Flora nodded. “Up at Blue Smoke the head housekeeper, Mrs. Ingram, made us scrub the floors every day whether they were dirty or not. Wouldn’t let us use a mop either. She said hands and knees was the only way to be sure we got all the corners clean.”

  “You’ll have plenty of time to recover before next season, but you might want to ask Mrs. Ingram for a different assignment next year,” Gillie said. “In the meantime, you should apply warm, moist compresses and stay in bed for the next couple of days.”

  “But what about Thanksgiving? I was planning to eat with my cousins up in Muddy Hollow this afternoon.”

  Lucy came into the parlor, drying her hands on a red checked towel. “Don’t worry, Flora. You can eat here with me. I have plenty of food. I’ll invite Mrs. Riley and Mrs. Welty from church to share our meal too.”

  Flora brightened. “I reckon that’ll be all right. Wouldn’t want to miss my pumpkin pie.” She smiled at Gillie. “Much obliged for coming to see me.”

  “No trouble.” Gillie slid her arms into the sleeves of her coat. “Get started with those warm compresses and you’ll feel better in a day or two.”

  Sophie walked Gillie to the door, and Gillie peered out. “Looks like the rain has stopped. I hope the road home won’t be too muddy.”

  “Are you staying for church?” Sophie asked.

  “I wish I could, but I promised Mother I’d help with her preparations and I’m already a day late. I’ll see you this afternoon. You and the charming Mr. Heyward.” She paused. “I’ve been wondering about inviting Caleb. I know he has a mother and two brothers at home, and I don’t know whether he’s coming into town today, but—”

  “He said he might stop by the Gazette this morning. You could try catching him there.”

  “I don’t want him to think I’m being too forward.”

  “Oh, I see what you mean,” Sophie teased. “Heaven forbid he should think you like him.”

  Gillie blushed. “I think he might know. Did you see the flowers on my kitchen table?”

  “Caleb brought them?”

  Gillie nodded. “Last night, when I got home from the Gibbons’ place, he was waiting on my front porch. I was going to invite him then, but I lost my nerve.”

  “My word, Sabrina Gilman. You have more nerve than any woman I know. You certainly wouldn’t find me lancing boils and sewing up wounds.”

  “This is different.”

  “It’s easy. Simply open your mouth and say, ‘Mr. Stanhope, would you care to join my family and guests for Thanksgiving dinner?’ Now you try.”

  Gillie burst into peals of laughter.

  “What’s so funny? They say Queen Victoria proposed marriage to Prince Albert. A dinner invitation pales in—”

  “Sophie?” Lucy came into the parlor wearing her fanciest hat. “We should start for the church soon.”

  “I’m ready.”

  The three women left the Verandah. Sophie and Lucy turned toward the church. Gillie headed to Mr. Tanner’s livery to retrieve her horse and rig.

  As Lucy had predicted, the church was packed. Sophie followed her down the crowded aisle and squeezed into a pew next to Robbie’s parents. Mrs. Whiting bobbed her head in greeting before turning around to speak to Carrie Rutledge, who was seated behind them. Carrie leaned forward and patted Sophie’s shoulder. “Happy Thanksgiving, my dear. I hope you aren’t too homesick for Wyatt and Ada.”

  Sophie turned around. “I do miss them, but things have been so hectic here, I’ve had little time to dwell on it.”

  “No doubt. But I hear the newspaper will be up and running again soon,” Mrs. Whiting said. “I, for one, am looking forward to having the Answer Lady back.”

  Ethelinda Whiting entered from the side door, took her place at the organ, and began to play. Voices softened and stilled.

  Sophie closed her eyes. This silence before the start of the service was one of her favorite moments in the week. Sitting in the cool stillness of Robbie’s church, she felt her spirit grow calm and her heart opening.

  “Lord of heaven and earth,” Robbie began, his voice rich with feeling, “give us a pure, still heart, a humble mind, and for every breath a thanksgiving and a song.”

  Sophie stood with the congregation as Robbie led the hymn. She imagined Wyatt and Ada worshipping at their church back home, Wade and Lilly beside them. No doubt Ada would wear her fanciest fall hat for the occasion, something trimmed with flowers and ribbons after the latest fashion. Last year she’d worn a tall, round hat adorned with burgundy velvet roses trimmed in gold cord. Wyatt teased her about it, but after the service, three of Ada’s friends placed orders for similar hats and Ada teased him right back. What did he know about ladies’ fashions?

  As the last notes of the hymn faded, Sophie battled her wave of homesickness. After all, she had chosen to come here, to try to make a difference, to prove her mettle. She wouldn’t feel sorry for herself despite everything that had gone wrong.

  As the congregation settled in for Robbie’s sermon, Sophie glanced to her right and saw Ethan sliding into the far end of the pew. Since the close of the season at Blue Smoke, he’d attended services almost every week. He balanced his hat on his knee and sent her a smile that warmed the empty places in her heart. How she would miss him if the paper didn’t make it and she had to leave town. But why dwell upon things that couldn’t be changed? And at least she’d see him this afternoon at the Gilmans’.

  Robbie motioned the congregation to stand for the closing prayer. “Lord, on this day of thanksgiving, let thy merciful ears be open to the prayers of thy humble servants. Make them to ask such things as shall please thee, through Christ our Lord.”

  What prayers would please the Lord? Sophie closed her eyes.

  Lord, may Ethan find peace and regain his love for his brother. May Julian’s wounds heal. May you forgive me for my lack of courage, for waiting so long to tell the truth. Her breath hitched. God could forgive any sin, but that didn’t mean he would erase the consequences. She had confessed her deceit, but was that enough? Maybe Ethan would never truly trust her. Or maybe his wounds went too deep for them to find a lasting love. Not that she had put all of her own doubts to rest. Could she overcome her own wounds and her own uncertainties?

  She stopped herself, reined in her runaway thoughts, turned them around. Forgive my lack of trust in you. You’ve brought me this far. Please keep your hand on me and those I love.

  Then, in the prayerful stillness, her thoughts turned to Rosaleen. Wherever my mother is on this day, forgive her and protect her.

  “Amen.” Robbie’s voice filled the room.

  Ethelinda struck a chord and played a soft hymn as people gathered their hats and cloaks, spoke to friends and neighbors, and left the church. Sophie said good-bye to Lucy and Mrs. Whiting and started for Mr. Tanner’s livery to hire a horse and rig.

  “Sophie?” Ethan strode toward her, a smile in his eyes, looking impossibly handsome in his pressed gray suit, his brown hair curling onto the collar of his crisp white shirt.

  “Good morning.” She returned his smile. “With Mrs. Culpepper and her party descending upon Blue Smoke today, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “The staff is prepared to deal with her. And it was better for me to stay out of Horace’s way. We had another disagreement yesterday. He’s still angry that I helped with the repairs at the Gazette.”

  “I’m sorry for causing so much trouble.”

  “No trouble at all. I wanted to help. Besides, it doesn’t really matter anymore.” He took her arm as they crossed the street
. “I quite enjoyed Reverend Whiting’s sermon.”

  Sophie smiled. “It still feels so strange to hear my oldest friend called ‘reverend.’ When we were growing up, I could imagine him doing lots of different things, but never preaching.” They skirted a group of children dressed in their Sunday best, playing chase outside the bank. “Have you seen Mr. Worth this morning?”

  Ethan nodded. “I went by the infirmary first thing. Julian has been anxious for news of his son, and his wife telegraphed that the boy is recovering. I wanted to deliver the good news right away. Dr. Spencer says Julian can leave the infirmary next week and continue his recuperation at home.”

  Sophie lifted her skirts and stepped around a muddy spot in the street. “He’s fit to travel, then?”

  “Not just yet, but maybe by Christmas. Julian’s planning to rent a room at the inn until the doc releases him.”

  “I’m sure he’s more than ready to get out of the infirmary.”

  “He’s turned cantankerous—a sure sign he’s feeling better.” Ethan grinned. “I suppose you’re headed to Miss Gilman’s.”

  “Yes. I asked Mr. Tanner to reserve a horse and rig for me.”

  “Let me drive you.” He motioned toward the mercantile where a handsome rig and an even more handsome horse stood. “Griff Rutledge lent me one of his best Blue Smoke mares for the occasion.”

  “Thank you. I’d love some company. I wasn’t looking forward to driving out there alone. Especially since Mr. Tanner seems to have only Miss Pearl available for me, and she is slower than Christmas.”

  Ethan grinned and helped her into his rig and they set off for the Gilmans’. Sophie drew her coat about her shoulders and pulled on her woolen gloves, watching him from the corner of her eye. He held the reins loosely in one hand, his eyes fixed firmly on the narrow road. He seemed preoccupied, wound tight as a watch spring.

  “Ethan, I—”

  “I’ve quit Blue Smoke,” he said. “I handed in my resignation yesterday.”

  So that was what accounted for his strange mood. She turned in her seat and searched his face. “I thought you loved it there.”

  “I loved building it. I don’t love what it’s become, or how its success has changed Horace Blakely. It has made him callous, ruthless, not the man I first met when I was seventeen.” He glanced at her. “I can see why the Good Book says love of money is the root of all evil. It has turned Horace into someone I hardly recognize.”

  “I see. I suppose you’ll go back to Baltimore, then.”

  “That’s one possibility. I haven’t decided yet.”

  Sophie folded her hands and willed herself to be cheerful, though all the joy had drained from the day. Ethan was leaving Hickory Ridge, and most likely she would never see him again. How could she bear to spend all afternoon at the Gilmans’, pretending to have a wonderful time when her heart was breaking?

  Ethan guided the rig around a mud puddle. “Of course, the minute I gave Horace notice, I started second-guessing myself, thinking maybe I’d made an enormous mistake. But this morning, when the reverend called upon us to ask what would please God, I got the answer I’d been looking for without even knowing I was seeking it. I realized that my heart is in building things, in fixing things that are broken and making them whole again.”

  They passed beneath a stand of stately pine trees pulsing with late-autumn light. The Gilmans’ house loomed in the distance, and farther along the road Sophie could see Carrie and Griff Rutledge’s place. Horses stood behind miles of whitewashed fences, placidly cropping the grass. A gaggle of noisy children, still dressed in their best clothes, chased each other in the brown meadow, oblivious to the chill wind coming off the mountain.

  Charlotte Rutledge fell facedown in a puddle and began to cry. In an instant, Carrie ran across the meadow and picked up her small daughter. An unexpected lump lodged in Sophie’s throat. What a lucky child, to know the comfort and safety of a mother’s arms.

  The little mare trotted smartly along the road. Ethan glanced at Sophie, a smile playing on his lips. “Anyway, now that I’ve given Horace my notice, I’m looking forward to the future. More than I have in a long time.”

  “What will you do now?” Sophie asked, dreading the answer but unable to stop her question. Why were human beings determined to seek the very answers that would destroy them?

  “When I was repairing your office, I realized that for the first time in a long time, I was truly happy. I think I might form a company of my own—build and repair houses and such. Joel and a few other men would rather work for me than for Horace, even though I couldn’t pay them as much. And I’d like to make a trip home. To Ravenswood, or to the place where it used to be. Seeing Julian again has made me realize how much I’ve missed home. Despite the bad memories.”

  They turned into the wooded drive leading to the Gilmans’, the road parting the dense forest like a comb parting hair. A collection of rigs and buggies were parked in the yard. A knot of men stood on the front porch, smoking cheroots and swapping stories, their voices rising and falling on the afternoon air.

  Sophie gathered her skirts and prepared to leave the rig, but Ethan stopped her. “Sophie? I know this is sudden, but now that I’ve made some decisions about my future, I think maybe this is the right time.”

  He clasped her hand so tightly she could feel his heart racing, even through the fabric of her glove.

  Her mouth went dry. “Yes, Ethan?”

  “Would you do me the honor of marrying me?”

  THIRTY

  Sophie looked up at Ethan, lips parted, her heartbeat whooshing in her ears. Had she heard correctly?

  “When I spoke just now about fixing things that are broken, I wasn’t speaking only of buildings, Sophie.” His eyes, the color of the gentians growing beside the road, caught hers and held. “Ironic, isn’t it—my blaming you for hiding your family’s past, when I was guilty of the same thing? I realize now that I was afraid too, afraid that if people knew Julian and I were kin, they would judge me. I’m terribly sorry that Julian got shot on my account, but I’m glad he showed up here. Otherwise I would have missed out on the greatest gift of my life.”

  Sophie blinked back tears. That they had gone through so much to arrive at this moment made his proposal even more endearing. And of course she loved him. Wanted him with a longing too deep for words. Had secretly longed for this moment. But now that it was happening, she didn’t know what to say.

  Would marriage be a wise choice? Was it even possible? Old prejudices were still alive and well, and she was weary of hiding from the truth. Suppose he took her home to Georgia? What if her background—her very self—proved to be a detriment to him? She couldn’t bear it if he had to suffer because people didn’t like her. And what if he wanted her to give up newspapering?

  He clasped both her hands and drew them to his chest. “I haven’t misread your feelings, have I? You do love me?”

  “Yes, Ethan, I do. And I’ve prayed for this moment, but now that it’s actually happened, it feels so . . . so sudden. I—”

  “You don’t have to say yes right this minute.” He kissed her gloved fingers. “After all, I am now without means to support you. Take some time to think about it. Tomorrow will be soon enough.”

  “Sophie!” Gillie ran toward them, her rustling silk skirts hiked to her ankles. “Thank goodness you’re here. My mother is in the parlor with my Aunt Livinia, and I do believe they are conspiring to announce my engagement to my third cousin William Fortis this very afternoon.” She glanced at Ethan. “Hello, Mr. Heyward. Please excuse me. I need my best friend right this minute.”

  Ethan released Sophie and winked at her. “By all means, Miss Gilman. I reckon I’ll just join the menfolk there on the porch.” He touched his index finger to the brim of his hat. “I’ll see you ladies later.”

  He helped Sophie from the rig, handed off the reins to one of the stableboys, and loped toward the house.

  Gillie looped her arm through Sophie’s. “I�
�m sorry to have interrupted your conversation with Mr. Heyward, but this is an emergency. You must help me.”

  Sophie’s mind reeled. Ethan Heyward had just proposed marriage. How could she possibly think of anything else? But Gillie needed her. She forced her mind back to the present crisis. “Of course I’ll help. But how?”

  “I’ve told Mother and Aunt Livinia that someone else has my heart, but they don’t believe me. They think I’m making up a beau just to get out of marrying William. When you meet him, you’ll understand why any girl would want to avoid him. Of course Mother thinks he’s perfect, just because he has money. But you know I care much more for my infirmary than for fancy things. I’d rather look after my patients and live in a cabin with Caleb than in a mansion with William the Silent.”

  “He doesn’t talk much?”

  “Much? He doesn’t talk at all. Can you imagine dinner with such a man, night after night? I’d go mad.”

  They reached the house. Ethan and the other men paused in their stories and tipped their hats as Gillie opened the massive front door and ushered Sophie inside.

  They passed the large dining room where the table was set for the Thanksgiving meal. Candlelight reflected polished silver and sparkling crystal. Massive bouquets of gentians and yellow asters anchored each end of the table. Two serving girls in starched black dresses and white aprons bustled to and fro from the kitchen, delivering soup in Chinese-patterned tureens and silver platters loaded with sweet potatoes and roasted corn. The smells of roasting turkey and mince pie wafted into the carpeted hallway.

  Gillie swept past the dining room and paused outside the closed doors leading to the parlor. “You must convince Mother that I’m telling the truth. I’m not asking you to name Caleb. You made a promise to him, and I won’t ask you to break it. But maybe if you tell her there is someone who likes me, she’ll give up this ridiculous plan to marry me off to someone I can’t abide.”

  Laughter erupted from inside the parlor. Gillie frowned. “That’s Mother and dear Auntie, conspiring to ruin my life.”