“It is for me.” Sophia surveyed the crowd of people who were preparing the chapel for the wedding. “How do you know Everett?”
“I worked as a shearer for his father one spring. Everett and I got on well, and Mrs. Foster insisted I stop in whenever I went through town. Good people, the Fosters.” Revel chatted on jocundly, unlike his withdrawn brother. James had hardly spoken to Sophia until the gray leaf tea loosened his tongue. Of course, it had also relaxed his inhibition, which led to him kissing her and his apology being overheard by Nicholas, who had caused such commotion over the news that it might ruin her chance of making her job with Lydia permanent.
She’d almost gone a full five minutes without thinking about it.
Worrying couldn’t be avoided. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing the job. Researching the gray leaf felt like it might be her life’s purpose.
And yet, all of her troubles had started with the gray leaf. The gray leaf tea wasn’t to blame for James’s mistake, nor for Nicholas’s. It was bad enough they had humiliated her in front of Lydia, but if word got out and Lydia felt her reputation was tarnished, Sophia would be homeless, or worse, forced to move back in with Alice and Hubert. Living with her bitter sister was better than moving back to Woodland but neither was an acceptable option. She had to keep her job.
Revel was still talking when the wagon stopped in front of the church. Sophia wasn’t listening. She caught sight of Nicholas and Lydia beside the church, speaking solemnly. At first their serious expressions made her worry Nicholas would say the wrong thing to Lydia, but then his demeanor relaxed.
Nicholas spoke and then Lydia laughed. Little Andrew reached out for him. He took Andrew and held him high in the air the way men do to make a baby giggle. It worked. Then, he settled Andrew in one arm as Lydia began pointing to different places on the ground by the chapel steps. She handed off the wad of blue material to one of her sisters and continued explaining something to Nicholas. With her last statement she pointed at the wagon.
Sophia realized she was staring. She scrambled down from the wagon and unloaded the crates of flowers, wishing Nicholas weren’t there. Revel commented on the weather, the crowd, and the elaborate decorations as he unloaded a long piece of white trellis. Sophia didn’t answer. She glanced back at Nicholas. He had walked to the Fosters’ wagon and was rummaging through a toolbox. Lydia stepped inside the chapel, holding the baby again.
Sophia lifted a crate of flowers, and as she turned, she almost hit Connor with it.
“Whoa! Easy there, Soph.”
“Oh sorry, Mr. Bradshaw, er, Connor.”
“Do you need help with that?”
“No, thank you.” She readjusted the crate. “Where do you want the flowers?”
Connor pointed a thumb at Mandy. “Let’s ask the ringleader.”
“The what?” Mandy twirled an auburn curl around her finger and lowered her pixie-like chin at Connor as she waddled over. She drew two flowers out of the crate and sniffed them. “Connor can take the other crates into the chapel where the girls are working. Sophia, darling, bring those over here.”
Sophia followed the pretty and pregnant Mandy to the grass near the chapel steps. Nicholas was walking toward the same area, holding a spade in one hand and a mallet in the other.
Mandy opened an arm toward him. “Great, you’re both here. You should have the arch assembled in no time.”
Sophia lowered the crate to her thighs as Mandy pulled on Nicholas’s arm, moving them closer together until they were standing side-by-side like two children being forced to reconcile on the playground.
Mandy smiled, playfully. “Everett loaned me Nicholas for the day to help with the trellis so you can cover it in flowers. Wasn’t that kind of my brother, Sophia?”
“I guess,” she murmured and inched away as Revel piled the trellis pieces near her feet.
Mandy continued. “My brother wants everything to be perfect for Bethany tomorrow, and he knew Nicholas was the right man to erect the arch.” She flashed Nicholas a grin. “Oh, you will make sure it’s perfect for Everett and Bethany, won’t you?”
He looked at Sophia. “I’ll do my best.”
“Great!” Mandy released his arm and went back to rubbing her belly. “Nicholas knows where I want the arch, and you are to weave the flower stems through the trellis pieces. The arch should be covered in flowers. Absolutely covered, all right?”
“All right.” Sophia managed a polite smile as she set the crate on the ground. After a quick glance around the churchyard, she reluctantly turned to Nicholas. “I’m going to help inside the chapel since I can’t put flowers on the arch until you’ve assembled it.”
He marked four spots in the damp soil with his spade. “Don’t bother. They had this planned.”
“They who?”
“Everett and Bethany… or Mandy or…” He paused as he pushed the shovel into the dirt with the ball of his foot. “Or Mrs. Foster.”
She wanted to ask why but didn’t. “They can’t force us to work together.”
“We’re their caged canaries.” He pointed at a slender piece of the framed trellis on the ground and continued digging.
She picked up the white trellis piece and handed it to him. “What do you mean?”
A half-grin creased his whisker stubble. “Try to go inside the chapel and see which one of them sends you back out here.”
She cast her gaze over her shoulder to the top of the chapel steps. The ladder was gone as were Lydia’s older sisters. Connor had carried all the other crates of flowers inside the church. Mandy was standing beneath the chapel’s arched doorway, pretending not to watch Sophia and Nicholas. The children had moved their games farther down the grassy slope beside the chapel. They weren’t in on the conspiracy.
The others must be hoping she and Nicholas would make amends. She looked back at Nicholas. “Very well. I’m willing to give them what they want if you are.”
His eyes lighted and the bow of his lip moved as if he were about to smile. She expected a more remorseful expression befitting an apology. When he said nothing, she spread her palms. “Well? Aren’t you going to apologize?”
He drew his head back, dousing his jubilant gleam. “Me?”
“Yes, you.”
Indignation filled his low voice. “That’s absurd.” He propped the wooden ends of a trellis frame into two holes then packed soil around them. “You’re the one in the wrong here, Miss Ashton.”
Hearing her proper name slither from his incredulous tongue made her back straighten. “Do you know the trouble you have put me in?” She almost said by confronting her and James for kissing in the medical office but stopped herself in case anyone overheard. “My job and my home are in jeopardy. My position is only a trial, and Dr. Bradshaw said she would have counted the incident against me if it wasn’t for my commitment to research.” She inched toward him, her finger gouging the air close to his collar. “If what happened between James and me gets around the village, I’ll be out of work and home. And it’s all because of you. How could you shove a man while standing in a medical office?”
Nicholas stood with both hands gripping the trellis. His gaze bore into her while his chest rose and fell with heavy breath. At last, his eyes cast downward. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize Dr. Bradshaw had been harsh with you.”
She glanced up at the chapel steps. Mandy was no longer in the doorway. Someone might be watching from a window, but they were otherwise alone.
Sophia picked up another piece of trellis frame and offered it to Nicholas. “Dr. Bradshaw wasn’t harsh, considering her reputation could be ruined by this.”
“No one will find out. I won’t tell anyone, nor will James. He and I spoke this morning. We’re fine.” He took the frame then reached for her fingers. “Sophia, this has all gone wrong.”
She yanked her hand away. “Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“Pursuing me.”
“Because I… I am f
ond of you.”
“Why?”
He angled his head a degree and repeated her question. “Why?”
“Yes, why? Name one thing you like about me.”
“You’re beautiful.”
“That’s about my face. Name one thing you like about me as person.”
“You have a sweet smile… usually.” He grinned slightly as if trying to lure her into letting him out of the conversation. His eyes were still watching her, but his hands resumed their work on the arch. He steadied the second piece of the trellis on the ground.
“Once again, that’s about my face. See, Nicholas, you don’t know me.”
He motioned at the empty lot across the road. “All I know is that on a perfect morning last November, I saw you at the market. You were minding your sister’s children, and you looked… lovely. God told me you are the woman I’ll spend my life with.”
God had never told her any such thing. Perhaps the lonely farmhand had simply spotted an available young woman holding babies and it stirred him biologically. Unless, Nicholas was one of those people who credited his every urge as being from God. In that case, she should make up an excuse to leave, slowly back away, and run for home. “And does God tell you things like that often?”
“No. That was the only time.”
His demeanor was far too serious for a man so young. “How old are you, Nicholas?”
“Twenty-five, twenty-six next month.”
“In twenty-six years the only thing God ever told you was that you would marry me.”
“Yes. Do you find that odd?”
“Don’t you?”
He shook his head. “What else should He tell me? I have the Scripture for life and godliness. What else might I need to know except whom I should marry?”
His resolve was exhausting. She wiped both hands over her face. “You barely know me and yet you have staked some sort of claim to me. It’s not fair when it jeopardizes my livelihood.”
He picked up the piece of arched trellis and steadied it on top of the two side pieces. While drawing a nail from his shirt pocket, he pointed his chin at one side of the arch. “Hold that side steady for me, please.”
She held the frame while he joined the curved top trellis, forming a perfect arch. When it was complete, she stepped back to gauge how it would look covered in flowers. Her heel caught on the edge of the crate and sent her tumbling backward onto the grass. The sudden jolt of her rump hitting the ground jarred her vision.
Nicholas rushed over. “Are you all right?”
“I wish I could disappear.” She stared straight ahead, waiting to get her wits back. “But other than that, I’m all right.”
He offered his hand, but she didn’t take it. He lowered it closer to her. “Don’t you want up?”
“No, thank you,” she said emphatically. Hearing her undue pride, she chuckled then purposefully upped the regality in her voice. “I rather like sitting on the wet grass.”
He grinned and sat beside her. “As do I.”
She laughed. “I’m terribly clumsy. Always have been.”
“See there, I didn’t know that about you, and now I do.”
“You’re funny.”
“And now you’ve learned something about me too. I’d say that’s a step in the right direction.” His smile didn’t fade as he leaned his palms on the ground behind him. “May I ask you something?”
She wiped her dirt stained hands together. “You may ask, but I can’t promise I’ll answer.”
“Why didn’t you want me speaking to your father? It’s tradition.”
Every time she thought her new life was beginning to blossom, her past found a way to shadow it. Why couldn’t she just start fresh from when she came to this village? It seemed everyone in Good Springs had their loving traditions and family loyalty and didn’t understand that wasn’t the way for some people—people like her parents who fought constantly. They fought each other, they fought Alice, and they fought her. They pit her and Alice against each other, indifferent to the scars they were inflicting. If it hadn’t been for the kindness of schoolteachers and church leaders, she might never have known what it was like to be treated with compassion. But how could she say that in this town—this jolly village of close families and kind community?
She wouldn’t say it and shouldn’t if she wanted to melt into their world and leave her icy past far behind. If only they would let her.
She pushed herself up and walked to the crate of flowers. Nicholas stayed where he was, watching her, waiting for her answer. She began threading the flower stems into the trellis. “I came to Good Springs to study under Connor at the secondary school. I didn’t know what I would do with my life. Since Connor wasn’t from the Land, he was fascinated with the healing properties of the gray leaf. The way he talked about it in class sparked something in me. So, I read some of my grandfather’s medical texts while I was living at Alice’s house. I was captivated with the abilities of the gray leaf medicine and its potential. When I finished school, Connor suggested I work with Lydia on her research. That’s when it all made sense.”
“What did?” Nicholas was standing behind her now.
She hadn’t realized he’d come close. Her breath hitched. She tried to ignore it and held up a flower. “My love of plants. As a child, as soon as I got home from school, I would go out to our vegetable patch. It was quiet out there. Peaceful. At first, managing the garden was just part of my chores, but I came to love the plants and the soil and tending them. I saw goodness in the earth and the plants that I didn’t see at home.” She stooped to the crate and gathered more flowers. “I believe these,” she said sniffing blossoms, “are proof life is good.”
He kept his attention fixed on her and picked up a handful of flowers. As he started working beside her, he said, “I thought you were training with Dr. Bradshaw so you could learn to be a nurse.”
She shook her head and was grateful he didn’t point out she hadn’t answered his original question. “That is part of the job, but it’s not my purpose.”
“And what is your purpose?”
“To discover new ways to use the gray leaf to help people.”
They reached flowers to the same spot on the trellis. He stood close enough she could feel his breath. When he spoke, his deep voice held a quality she’d yet to hear from him—fervor blended with confidence. “I want to know everything about you, Sophia.”
She liked the way he said her name that time.
Something about him had changed. He was no longer a love struck admirer, bumbling for words. His former air of desperation had dissipated, and what was left intrigued her. She wove another stem into the trellis. “That might take a while.”
“I can be a very patient man when it’s required.”
She studied him, taking in every detail from his quick fingers to his determined jaw. Somehow he’d captured her attention, and she had so little of it to give. No matter how often she told herself to focus on her work, Nicholas Vestal proved to be a distraction. Her head told her not to permit it, but his voice stirred her heart. She would not allow anything to subvert her purpose, nor would she deny her awakening heart.
She needed time.
With a smile, she gathered more flowers. “Patience is most certainly required.”
* * *
Nicholas sat on a crowded church pew two rows behind Sophia, trying not to tug at the tight knot in his cravat. The flower-filled chapel had warmed during the morning church service, and now people were fanning themselves while Everett and Bethany exchanged wedding vows. From where Nicholas sat, he studied Sophia while she watched the happy couple.
Before Reverend Colburn pronounced Everett and Bethany man and wife, he read a scripture passage from First Corinthians. He stopped twice to clear the emotion from his crackling voice. Bethany was his youngest and the last child he would marry off. It must be both rewarding and hard on a man to see his family change. In the audience, many people sniffled while others smiled.
Some were doing both.
Levi stood proudly beside Everett as his best man, while Bethany’s childhood friend Phoebe held the bride’s bouquet, its blend of white flowers matched those arranged throughout the chapel. Only an overseer’s daughter would want such a fuss, or maybe her family had wanted it for her. Either way, it suited the Colburns, and they looked happy. The audience erupted into applause when the newly joined couple kissed.
When Nicholas married Sophia someday, they would have a simple ceremony on a sunny afternoon, witnessed by their families and close friends. But it wasn’t about the wedding. It was about their commitment to each other for life—a life he was eager to start. First, he had to get her to let him court her.
Chapter Nine
Bailey unfolded the blue slip of paper Justin Mercer had given her at the bar. She double-checked the street number above the door of the Norfolk townhouse where he’d told her to meet him if she wanted the job. She needed to know what he wanted with her.
A short, fifty-something woman with a salt-and-pepper ponytail and deep forehead wrinkles answered the door. The woman cocked her head to the side. “He’s in his room.”
“His room?”
“Are you here to see my son or not?”
Bailey scanned the living room. Dusty framed photographs crowded a wicker bookcase. A freshly lit cigarette fumed from an overflowing ashtray surrounded by lidless pill bottles on the coffee table. A decade old soap opera was paused on the television screen.
Great, her new boss lived with his mommy. And Mommy was a mess.
She looked past Justin’s mother. “I have a business meeting with Justin Mercer.”
“Call it what you want, honey.” The woman left the doorway and plopped onto a threadbare dip in a faux-suede sofa. She pointed at the hallway behind her. “Second door on the left. Knock or he’ll get miffed.”
Bailey stepped inside and closed the door. As she walked down the hallway, the second door on the left cracked open. A sliver of Justin’s face shadowed the space. “You alone?”
Bailey glanced behind her and then gave Justin a sardonic look. “Yeah, unless your mother followed me.”
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