Refining Emma

by Delia Parr

  He repositioned his foot and groaned ever so softly. “You overstate my intentions and understate your own position,” he stated gruffly.

  “You’re wrong on both counts,” she argued. “I did not overstate your intentions. Based on the number of lawsuits you’ve filed against other residents of Candlewood over the years and even recently, I believe you were very definitely implying a lawsuit would be your course of action against me. My position as owner and proprietress of Hill House and my reputation as a competent and fair woman of business are well-known and equally well-respected,” she retorted.

  With her cheeks growing warm, she continued. “I have a decided advantage should you decide to sue me, and I promise you that I will use the considerable funds at my disposal to guarantee that you will lose everything you own to pursue such a lawsuit, only to find that the courts will prevail on my side in the end.”

  He turned slightly away from her.

  “As long as you remain here as my guest, I must insist that you bring your complaints to me directly and in a timely manner to allow me to accommodate you as best I can. Bullying the other guests to do your bidding without waiting for my instructions or my approval ends here and it ends now, or you will have to find other living arrangements.”

  This time he did respond—eventually—with a quick nod.

  She was surprised by his acquiescence, but she assumed the man was simply a bully who was not accustomed to having anyone stand up to him. Or perhaps he felt too poorly to argue with her. In any event, he was still her guest—an injured guest, as well—and she felt compelled to see to his comfort. “May I assume you are now satisfied having use of my office for your bedroom?”

  Another nod.

  “I rode by your cottage today. The damage to the roof is extensive. Have you any idea of how long it will take to make the repairs so you and your sister can return home?”

  He stiffened. “Once I’ve fully recovered from my mishap today, I will be certain to pursue the matter. In the meantime, I suggest you confine your interests to seeing that my sister and I are properly cared for here at Hill House.”

  Rather than agitate the man any further by responding, she rose from her seat. “I need to go into my office to remove some of my papers before I look in on your sister. I understand she was very distressed by your mishap.”

  He snorted. “My sister has lived in a state of distress for most of her life.”

  Emma ignored his cold, flippant remark.

  “I’ll have your meals brought to you for a few days so you can continue to recuperate,” she offered. She made her way to her office wondering what it was that had sparked the argument between this very odd man and his sister and how that might affect the remainder of their stay at Hill House.

  26

  SOME DAYS, BEING PROPRIETRESS AT Hill House had its decided disadvantages.

  Once again Emma stored away her papers upstairs in her bedroom, along with the rest of the contents of her desk, including the skates she had shoved into one of the drawers. When she finished, she went to the west parlor to see how Orralynne was faring and found Reverend Glenn alone, dozing on the settee. Orralynne and Mrs. Massey were gone. Even his faithful companion, Butter, was missing.

  Tempted by the warm fire and the opportunity to get off of her feet, she sat down on the chair facing the retired minister to rest for a moment before going back upstairs.

  Almost immediately, he stirred awake. “Emma!”

  “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I was looking for Miss Burke,” she explained.

  “I believe she’s upstairs resting.”

  “And Mrs. Massey?”

  “She went upstairs, as well. The menfolk decided to bring a good supply of firewood closer to the house and store it on the side porch before the snowstorm hits. I was just sitting here hoping you’d come and keep me company. I guess I fell asleep.”

  Emma glanced at the floor by his feet. “Butter is usually resting close-by. He didn’t go upstairs or venture outside, did he?”

  “Not when he’s been invited to the kitchen for something tasty.”

  Emma sent a questioning look to Reverend Glenn. Mother Garrett tolerated the dog; she certainly did not spoil it.

  The retired minister chuckled. “Apparently there was a spill of some kind. Frances said something about beans and molasses when she came for Butter. That dog will eat most anything that accidentally ends up on the floor,” he remarked with a chuckle.

  She laughed with him, knowing full well he “accidentally” dropped more than he should at mealtimes, much to Butter’s pleasure. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware of what happened with the Burkes earlier. I hope it wasn’t too difficult to have Miss Burke brought to you to be consoled.”

  He let out a deep sigh, as if recalling the incident some years ago involving Orralynne and his late wife, Letty. “I don’t believe it’s my place to judge the poor woman, but I am called to forgive her. I spoke with her a short while, but I’m afraid she wasn’t very receptive.”

  Emma was not surprised. “From what I’ve been told, she had some sort of an argument with her brother before his mishap.”

  He rubbed his left thigh. “Whatever it is they argued about surely upset her, but I spent the better part of the little time she was with me trying to help her stop weeping. Fortunately, Mrs. Massey fared better in that regard.”

  Emma furrowed her brow. “Are you certain? Judith Massey and Orralynne Burke were actually conversing together? Amicably?”

  He smiled. “Mrs. Massey was very attentive and very sweet to poor Miss Burke.”

  “Judith has a good heart,” Emma whispered. “I just think it’s a miracle that Miss Burke actually turned to her and that Judith, in turn, would be willing to offer comfort to the poor woman,” Emma said. She did recall, however, that after Orralynne’s nosebleed, the woman had eventually shed her bitter shell when Emma intervened, if only for a few hours.

  “Miracles abound most frequently in the common events of daily life, though we don’t always notice them,” he suggested.

  Emma leaned back in the tapestry chair and shook her head. “I would definitely have noticed that miracle.” Completely content to simply sit by the fire with Reverend Glenn, she let out a sigh. “As much as I would like to sit here with you, I should probably go upstairs and check on Miss Burke.”

  “Or you could let Mrs. Massey continue to see to her. Miracles take time. So does forgiveness, Emma. Perhaps you should let the two of them have some time alone. I think if Mrs. Massey needs your help, she’ll let you know. I’m quite certain Miss Burke would.”

  “You’re right, as usual,” she admitted. Oddly, for the first time since she had opened Hill House to guests, she found it a relief rather than a disappointment to relinquish her role as hostess and peacekeeper to someone else. In all truth, however, she had never had guests as demanding or temperamental as the Burkes.

  Given the choice, Emma much preferred enjoying Reverend Glenn’s company at the moment, especially since she had had little opportunity to spend time with him since the tragedy. “Aunt Frances tells me you had a meeting with members of the church vestry a few days ago,” she began, anxious to find out if Aunt Frances was right about the true purpose behind the meeting.

  “Reverend Austin, as well. He was kind enough to take me with him,” he replied as he bent his left arm at the elbow and repeated the motion, as if his arm had begun to tingle.

  “I suppose they wanted to formally thank both of you for all the hours you spent with the victims and their families.”

  He laid his arm flat again at his side. “They did. I’ve been mulling over something we discussed at the meeting and waiting for an opportunity to talk with you about it. Perhaps now would be as good a time as any since everyone else seems busy elsewhere,” he suggested.

  Emma edged forward in her seat.

  “I hope you know how much I’ve enjoyed being with you all at Hill House,” he began.

  He slowly expla
ined why both he and Reverend Austin had been summoned to the meeting, and by the time he finished, she had to wipe away more than a few tears. Reverend Glenn was right. Miracles truly did happen in the everyday moments of life, but this particular miracle was almost beyond belief: Reverend Glenn had been given the opportunity to return to the pulpit.

  “After my stroke, when I lost my pulpit, I never, ever thought I’d be called to service again,” he murmured.

  “I knew Reverend Austin was very busy since the congregation has grown considerably, along with the town, but I hadn’t realized they were looking for someone to assist him,” she offered. Like other women, however, Emma was rarely privy to the workings of the all-male vestry, unless they needed the women’s help to raise money for the church.

  “Apparently they’ve been considering the idea of having an assistant pastor for some time. The great need of the congregation after the tragedy merely prompted them to consider it more seriously,” he replied.

  “If you accept their offer, would you have to leave Hill House to live in the parsonage?” she asked, unable to fathom how much he would be missed by all of them.

  “It wouldn’t be proper to live at the parsonage. Once there’s an associate pastor, Reverend Austin will be riding circuit as the senior pastor, trying to visit folks who live a good distance from town, so Mrs. Austin will often be at the parsonage alone. There’s a small two-room cottage in the center of town where they’d like me to live to be close at hand for the members of the congregation here in Candlewood. I’d also be available, of course, to assist Reverend Austin when he is in town.”

  She swallowed hard, reluctant to voice any concern that might give him reason to decline the offer. She was thrilled that he had the opportunity to resume his active ministry, but she was also fearful that the disabilities caused by his stroke would once again prevent him from tending to the flock of believers he so dearly loved. “Living alone would be difficult for you,” she murmured.

  His eyes began to twinkle. “But I wouldn’t be living alone,” he countered. “Not if Frances agrees to be my wife.”

  With her eyes wide, Emma clapped her hand to her mouth. Overwhelmed, overjoyed, and elated, she could not win the struggle to find her voice or to fully comprehend that she would be losing not one but two very special members of her Hill House family.

  He chuckled. “Don’t look so surprised! I should think it’s been fairly obvious that I’ve grown sweet on the woman since she came to Hill House last fall, but I surely could not act on my feelings. I had no means to support myself, let alone a wife. Serving as an assistant pastor, however, I’d receive a stipend. It’s small, but we could manage if we were frugal.”

  The expression in his eyes grew serious. “Do you think it’s wise for me to consider returning to my ministry again? Or marrying again? Or am I just an old man, tricked into chasing after a foolish dream that I might serve God in a greater capacity again and have a helpmate by my side?”

  “You’re the wisest man I know,” she replied. “We were all blessed the day you came to live with us at Hill House and every day since,” Emma insisted. “I find it impossible to believe that He would present you with this remarkable opportunity only to make you appear foolish if you accept it. He isn’t teasing you or tricking you. He’s trying to reward you for your faithfulness.”

  Reverend Glenn nodded ever so slowly and smiled. “If you hadn’t been uncommonly charitable and welcomed me into your home, I’m not sure what would have happened to me after I took sick. I firmly believe He led me to you, and I thank you, dearest Emma.”

  She pulled her head back and stared at him. “There’s no need to thank me. I’ve probably hounded you to help me when my faith grew weak more than anyone else at Hill House.”

  “You’ve been both daughter and friend to an old man who came to Hill House with neither, and you’ve given me the courage to believe He had a purpose for me in this world when no one else did, including myself.”

  Humbled, she bowed her head. “You’re very kind.”

  “I’m being very candid.”

  She let out a long sigh before lifting her head and facing him again. “As you know, I’m not certain about my own future or what purpose I might serve. With Jonas passed on and our three boys grown with families of their own, continuing to operate the General Store did not seem to be enough. I’ve been waiting for months now to find out if buying Hill House was just a foolish and costly mistake or if this is where I’m suppose to be. I’m afraid Mr. Breckenwith’s proposal adds yet another layer to my already confused, very uncertain situation.”

  “You might consider that being here at Hill House was all part of His plan. You just haven’t discovered how long He intended for you to be here. You might also want to consider Mr. Breckenwith’s proposal in the same way, regardless of whether you accept it or not. There are always lessons to be learned along the way,” he offered.

  She cocked her head. “I hadn’t thought about it from that perspective.”

  “Prayer helps, but so does patience.”

  “And so do you. I’m going to miss your guidance, but mostly I will truly, truly miss you,” she whispered and blinked back another swell of tears.

  “I haven’t left yet,” he cautioned with a chuckle. “What I really need is your help to find the right time and the right place to propose to Frances without having an audience. I wouldn’t mind so much if I were certain she’d accept my proposal, but I’d rather not have anyone watching if she rejects me.”

  “I don’t think she’ll do that, but of course I’ll help,” she said. “Why not propose in the gazebo? You and Aunt Frances spent a lot of time there last fall.”

  He drew back, his eyes wide with disbelief. “The gazebo? In this weather? Even if the snowstorm that’s coming drops less that the usual two or three feet of snow, it’s far too cold outside. By the time Frances and I both managed down all of the steps to get to the gazebo, we’d have to turn right around to get back to the house. And I surely don’t want to wait until spring, nor can I. The vestry expects an answer within a month or so.”

  “Unless the snow interferes, Aunt Frances is going home a week from Sunday, which doesn’t give us much time,” she added as her mind raced through the possibilities. If Mr. Burke had not commandeered the library, that would have been her first choice. With so many guests, using one of the two parlors was also not an option, which pretty much made finding a private place for them inside Hill House a problem. “Wait. I know. I know a perfect place! There’d be no stairs involved. I’d make sure it was warm enough and cozy and private. It’s perfect! I only need some time to arrange things. Just leave it up to me,” she urged. “You have more important things to think about.”

  When he frowned, she chuckled. “You have to plan how to propose to Aunt Frances so she definitely says yes,” she suggested, quite certain Aunt Fances would consider this “winter suitor” as the exception to the stereotype she and Mother Garrett had created so many years ago.

  “You won’t tell anyone, especially your mother-in-law, will you? I don’t want Frances to know about the position or anything else until I tell her.”

  “It’ll be our secret,” Emma promised, although keeping this joyous secret, out of all the others that seemed to be floating around Hill House these days, would be the hardest of all.

  27

  TWO WEEKS LATER, when February was but a few days old, Emma finally had everything nearly ready for Reverend Glenn.

  Despite a record four feet of snow still on the ground that imprisoned folks for miles around in their homes.

  Despite day after day of pestering from Mother Garrett and Aunt Frances to reveal Mr. Atkins’ secret, since they had no hope of getting into town to visit him until the snow melted.

  And despite the upset surrounding Lester Burke, who had taken to his bed in Emma’s office just yesterday with a fever, demanding only his sister could tend to him. Although his demand signaled a truce to the estrangement
they had suffered after their argument, the nature of their argument still remained a secret between the siblings.

  In the quiet moments just after dawn, Emma pulled back the heavy drapes that covered the single window in her bedroom. She peered outside to enjoy a solitary view of the grounds behind Hill House before going downstairs to start what she hoped would be a day of momentous joy.

  She cupped one hand at her brow against the glare, awed by the mystery and the majesty of God’s power to transform the world He had made for them, season by season.

  In the distance, beyond the snow-filled woods where the panther had been buried, a solid blanket of white obscured the path of the frozen canal. Copses of evergreens, including candlewood trees, bowed to their Creator under the weight of the heavy snowfall.

  On the plateau, nestled at the base of a snowdrift that covered the steps leading down from the outdoor patio, the gazebo wore a cloak of dazzling white, with icicles hanging from its roof and reflecting the rays of a strong sun wrapped by a clear blue sky.

  Encouraged that the weather appeared to be improving, she had to get on tiptoe to get a good view of the patio below her window and just outside the dining room on the first floor. Snow nearly reached the top of the stone walls that enclosed the patio. Two summer chairs sat in front of the outdoor fireplace, which she had cleared, and wood for a fire was already in place. After Mr. Massey and the Ammond brothers had cleared walkways to the chicken pen in the backyard and from the front porch to the gate, she had asked them to clear some of the snow on the patio to make a winding walkway from the dining room to the outdoor fireplace. To her relief, the walkway was still intact.