Boxed Set: Deep in the Heart of Texas: Hurricane, Mismatched in Texas, Christmas at the Crossroads

by Janice Thompson

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” She shook her head. Her eyes flooded, and he reached to take her hand.

  “I’m at a loss to know what to say here, Belinda. Truly.”

  “Why? Are you unhappy with Adeline? She disappoints you in some way?”

  “No, of course not. It’s not that. She seems quite wonderful, in fact.”

  “Well, then,” Belinda said, her businesslike voice taking over once again. “It looks like I was right this time. You two are a match made in heaven. You are destined to be together.” After a brief pause, she turned. “I’d better be getting back to the store. Aunt Hilde has done without me all day. I suppose I will see you later, then.”

  “Belinda...” He drew near and took her arm. She turned to him, a lone tear trickling down her cheek. He brushed it away, and she reached up to take his hand.

  “Yes?”

  “I just wanted to say...” He shook his head, realizing others had stopped to watch. “Well, thank you for all your hard work on my behalf. I’m grateful.”

  “You’re welcome, George. You know, you are still my best friend in the world. Next to Greta of course. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

  “And you are mine as well,” he said, gazing into her tear-filled eyes. “I feel exactly the same.”

  “Well, then...” At that, she hiked her skirt and took to running across the street in the direction of Poetic Notions. George fought the urge to follow her. If he did, it would only complicate things further. Instead, he turned back toward his shop, the thoughts in his head moving in a hundred different directions at once.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  A couple of weeks after the newest batch of ladies arrived in town, Belinda found herself facing a dilemma of major proportions. It centered around Rebecca Morgan and Doc Klein. As much as she’d hoped to happily match them, they did not take to each other as Belinda had planned. Oh, they had much in common. Perhaps too much, as George had once insinuated. So when Rebecca paid Belinda a visit at home on a windy Thursday evening, she wasn’t particularly surprised to see her.

  Belinda greeted her at the door. “Come in, Rebecca. Please.” She ushered her inside, out of the dismal rain, and gestured for her to sit in Papa’s favorite rocker. Belinda couldn’t help but wonder about the somber look on Rebecca’s face.

  “I think you can guess why I’m here, Belinda.” Rebecca twisted her hands together in her lap. “These past couple of weeks have been very trying for me. I feel as if I’ve made a mistake by coming here.”

  “You have?” Belinda sighed. “I’m so sorry, Rebecca.”

  “It would have been worth it, I suppose, if I’d fallen in love. But the truth is, I’m simply not enamored with Doctor Klein. I’ve tried ever so hard to think of him as husband material, but I can’t seem to do so. We are compatible as friends or even coworkers, but not as romantic partners. Not at all.”

  “We’ve plenty of other available men in town,” Belinda offered. “So if you’re interested in a different sort of match, perhaps something could be arranged.”

  Rebecca shook her head. “I don’t believe so, though I thank you for the offer. I would love to go back home. The sooner, the better.”

  “Ah.” Belinda drew in a deep breath. So it had finally happened after all. One of her brides had chosen to leave. That meant someone had to pay for her train ticket. That someone would apparently be Belinda. She couldn’t very well charge Doc Klein, now could she? No, and in fact, he would likely ask for his money back for Rebecca’s original ticket, as well. So this would be quite a financial loss for Belinda’s business. “You cannot be persuaded?” she asked, trying to sound hopeful.

  “I cannot.”

  Belinda pushed back a sigh and forged ahead, looking as sympathetic as possible. “Then I will arrange for your ticket tomorrow morning. When would you like to leave?”

  “I believe there is a train out of Terrell on Saturday morning, and I’d like to be on it.” Rebecca’s eyes filled with tears. “I want you to know that I am ready for marriage. There’s no doubt in my mind about that. I waited for years for the right man to come along, and when he didn’t, my desperation drove me to place that advertisement. I came to Poetry with the highest hopes. But Doctor Klein isn’t the man for me, and I wouldn’t be true to my heart if I married him.”

  “Oh dear.”

  “I feel badly about this, Belinda. I got the man’s hopes up. And yours. But I can’t go through with it. I simply can’t.”

  “Of course you can’t,” Belinda said with a sympathetic nod. “I’m sad, of course, but I understand completely.”

  “You have no idea how difficult it is to give up everything—the people you love, your church home, your familiar surroundings—to come to a place where you no know one. Can you imagine how you would feel, were the shoe on the other foot?”

  “No, I must admit, I cannot. I would imagine it’s a lonely venture.”

  “Especially when you’re hoping to find love but only end up with, well, with a mismatch.”

  “No sparks at all with the doctor, then?” Belinda asked.

  “None. I thought about lighting some fireworks underneath him to see if that would help.” Rebecca offered up a shy smile. “But I stopped short of doing it.”

  “Probably for the best.”

  “I was swayed by his poem, to be sure,” Rebecca said, confusion registering in her eyes. “But it’s the oddest thing. The man I found upon arrival didn’t seem at all the same romantic who penned those beautiful words. Don’t you find that strange?”

  “Strange? Oh, well, I...” Belinda’s words trailed off. “I suppose it does seem a bit odd.” Perhaps because he never wrote that poem. Peter did.

  Belinda eventually bid her guest farewell, promising to buy her ticket first thing tomorrow morning. Rebecca would be on the Saturday morning train out of Terrell, no matter the cost.

  As she sat alone in the living room, Belinda reflected on all she’d heard. For the first time, she began to contemplate the fact that the poems Peter had written to the various ladies were, in fact, somewhat deceptive. She’d never thought about it from that angle before, but the women were bound to expect their husbands-to-be to have the same romantic flair in real life as on paper. And surely a man like Doc Klein—stoic and a bit cold at times—wasn’t capable of such glowing words in person.

  Really, the only man in town who might pull off a real love poem—next to Peter, of course—was George. Perhaps he was finishing his now. For Adeline.

  Belinda headed into the kitchen to have a talk with her mother.

  Mama turned from washing the dishes as she walked into the room. “Problems on the matchmaking front?”

  “Yes.” Belinda sighed. “A definite mismatch this time around. I truly don’t know where I went wrong with that one.” Her mother handed her a plate and a dish towel. Belinda went to work, drying as she talked. “I was absolutely sure the doctor would be enamored with Rebecca and she with him. But I was wrong.”

  “Sometimes life is nonsensical,” her mother said. “Things that appear to be obvious are anything but.”

  “As I am learning.” Belinda sighed and put away the dry plate. “Can I ask you a question, Mama?”

  “Sure.” Her mother looked up with a smile, handing her another plate.

  “How did you know that Papa was the one for you?”

  Her mother stopped working and gazed at her. “I’ve never told you that story?”

  Belinda shook her head, never losing her grip on the plate, which she continued to dry. “No.”

  “Well, your father was actually the last man I’d ever thought of marrying, if you want the truth of it,” her mother said with a hint of laughter in her voice. “You’d never seen two more different people. I was outgoing; he was shy. I was the first to volunteer for every church committee; he was content to work quietly in the background. But there was something about that man I could not deny.”

  “What was it?” Be
linda put the plate in the cupboard and focused on her mother’s story.

  Mama shook her head and smiled, a wistful look on her face. “There’s really only one way to describe it, honey. Our souls were connected. They still are. I know that man inside and out, and he knows me. We were destined by the Lord to marry. There’s no doubt in my mind about that.”

  “So you think God knows in advance who we’re going to marry, then?” Belinda asked.

  “Why, He must.” Mama offered a comforting smile.

  “Then why doesn’t He just come out and tell us?” Belinda said with a sigh. “Give us some sort of sign or something?”

  “Sometimes He works like that,” Mama said with a shrug. “But if you’ll notice, the Lord rarely reveals everything at once. No, He tends to move in our lives...well, much like a poem. One stanza at a time.”

  Belinda nodded. “I think you’re right. Oh, but don’t you ever wish you could read the whole poem at once? What if you’re at the end of one line and you’re aching to know what’s coming next?”

  “Then you trust, honey. You trust. And you believe that whatever is coming next—whether it rhymes with the line before it or not—will work to God’s glory. And that the whole poem, once completed, will speak of a life completely devoted to Him, even during the hard times.”

  Belinda sighed. “Mama, how did you get to be so smart?”

  Her mother laughed. “Must be my sixth-grade education shining through. But believe me, sweet girl, there are some things you can’t learn in books. They are the lessons of life, meant to be learned by living.”

  “I think I will be learning for the rest of my life, then.” Belinda grimaced.

  “Then you are in good company,” her mother said. “For we all go on learning till the day we die.”

  Belinda gave her mother’s words a lot of thought as she continued helping with the dishes. And later that night, as she settled into bed a good two hours earlier than usual, she chewed on them a bit more. She closed her eyes and offered up a prayer, asking the Lord to show her the next verse of her poem—but only silence permeated the room. If He knew, He wasn’t saying.

  Then again, maybe she didn’t need to know, either. Maybe half the adventure was, as Mama had said, in finding out one line at a time.

  ***

  George sat across from Adeline Rose in the restaurant at Stanzas, hanging onto her every word. There was something about her voice, the way she pronounced her words, that he found charming. Of course, he found just about everything about her charming, especially the way she batted her eyelashes when she got excited about something, which seemed to happen a lot. These past two weeks had been a blur, moving far too rapidly. It seemed every time he prayed the clock would slow down, it sped up instead. And though he felt he was getting to know Adeline, he still struggled to know her from the inside out.

  The beautiful young woman now sat across the table, talking about her younger sister. “I’m quite anxious to bring Catherine here,” she said. “I know she will love this town. Why, what’s not to love?”

  “I agree completely.” He paused, not sure what to say next. Over the past couple of weeks, he’d heard about Catherine in detail. Surely the child would love Poetry. But was he ready to take on both a wife and a child? He had smiled and nodded his way through many conversations about her but didn’t feel settled about it in his heart. Not yet, anyway. Still, how could he say no to anything Adeline might ask? The woman was sheer perfection, and her love for both the Lord and people came shining through in everything she did. He would be blessed to have her as a wife. Blessed beyond belief.

  “Did you hear that Rebecca Morgan is leaving on the Saturday morning train?” Adeline said, interrupting his thoughts.

  That certainly got George’s attention. “No. Are you sure?”

  “Very. She stopped me in the hotel lobby this afternoon on her way back from Belinda’s house to tell me. I could tell she had been crying, poor thing.”

  “So, it didn’t work out with the doctor.” He pursed his lips and leaned back in his chair, thinking that one through. The doctor wasn’t the easiest person in the world to get to know. He had a stiff demeanor at times.

  “Apparently not,” Adeline said. “I daresay, some of these matches are harder than others.”

  “Clearly.” He nodded and then took a swig of coffee, deep in thought. Every time he turned around, someone was getting hurt. And yet this whole thing was a bit like a snowball coming down a hill. The farther it went, the faster it moved. And the faster it moved, the bigger it got. Heaven help the person standing at the bottom of the hill. Surely that man—whether it was the doctor or Myles Lott or George Kaufman—would be buried alive, if he didn’t watch himself.

  Oh, how easily he could get swept away by this snowball. After all, Adeline held every charm. He found her giggle to be light and airy. Her conversation compelling. Her flattery sincere. Every word she spoke was laced with kindness, and her heart for others remained evident, especially when talking about her sister.

  She was truly the most perfect woman he’d ever known. Not that any woman could truly achieve perfection, but she certainly came close. He turned back to her with a smile and continued their conversation without interruption. No point in causing any pain on her end. She needn’t be aware of any internal struggles he might be having. Not yet, anyway.

  On top of that, the scent of her perfume pulled at him. It was different from the fragrance Belinda wore. What was that called, again? Ah yes, lemon verbena. This had a sweeter smell.

  Adeline continued talking, oblivious to his thoughts. George eventually jumped back in, paying attention to every word, lest she find him inattentive. Before long, they chatted about the upcoming campground meeting.

  “Oh, I’m so excited to hear about this!” Adeline said. “Camp meetings are my very favorite. When my papa was alive, he would preach at our local camp meetings. He was quite the preacher.” She dabbed at her eyes with her hankie. “Sorry, I miss him so much.”

  “Please don’t apologize.” George reached out to grasp her hand, giving it a squeeze. As he stared into her beautiful tear-filled eyes, the strangest sense came over him. He felt such a strong need to protect Adeline from life’s many storms. She’d been through so many already.

  “I think you will enjoy the preaching at our camp meetings,” George said. “Pastors come from all over the county to converge upon the campground at the north end of town. You’ve never seen anything like it. Folks camp out, share meals together, and sing hymns and other rousing choruses. It’s very invigorating.”

  “I can hardly wait. When is it again?”

  “The first week in October.”

  A cloud seemed to come over her. “I do hope Catherine is here by then. That would make it even better. The longer I’m away from her...” She brushed away a tear then offered a weak smile. “There I go again, talking about my sister. I do hope you will forgive me.”

  “There’s nothing to forgive.”

  They were several minutes into the conversation when George noticed Myles Lott enter the restaurant. There were no tables to be had. Considering all the circumstances, George felt terrible for the man.

  “Would you mind?” he asked Adeline. “I’d like to ask him to join us.”

  “What a kind gesture,” she said. “I think that would be wonderful.”

  Moments later Myles sat at the table with them, sipping a cup of coffee and waiting on his dinner. Somehow, with Myles there, George could relax and be himself. There was no pressure to do—or be—anything he was not with another person at the table.

  “So, you are a schoolteacher?” Adeline asked, turning to Myles.

  “Yes. Have been for quite some time now.” He drew in a deep breath and grew silent.

  “What is it, Myles?” George asked.

  “Oh, I was just thinking about the many children who’ve come through my classroom. They have made up for the lack of children in my own life. And many have grown into
fine men and women. Take you, George. Why, you’re all grown-up and ready for a family yourself.”

  “Y–yes.” George stumbled over the word as he reached for his coffee cup. Perhaps it would be better to shift gears. “The new school year has started up again, hasn’t it? Any rambunctious students?”

  “Oh, yes. I have a handful of girls around age ten or eleven who to tend to squeal a lot.”

  “I remember that age.” Adeline smiled and her eyes took on a faraway look.

  “These girls are quite a handful,” Myles said with a nod. “Never stop talking.”

  “My sister, Catherine, is twelve and will be a student at your school, should we decide to stay in Poetry.” Adeline’s cheeks turned pink, and she dabbed at her lips with the edge of her napkin. “It would be nice for me to meet some of the girls her age so that proper introductions can be made once she arrives.”

  “You are welcome to stop by the school midday whenever you like,” Myles said with a nod. “I’ll be happy to introduce you to the children. Tell me a little more about your sister.”

  The two dove into a lengthy conversation about Catherine, and George relaxed. Thankfully, he could leave this one in Myles’s capable hands. For once, it was nice just to sit on the sidelines and listen. Of course, with a woman like Adeline, he could pretty much sit and listen all day. The sound of her voice was akin to water running over river rocks. Soothing. Comforting.

  Yes, indeed. He might just learn to love this.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Belinda arrived in church on Sunday morning with her mind still reeling from the past few days. Just yesterday morning she and Papa had driven Rebecca Morgan to Terrell to board the train. She’d left with the promise to write, though Belinda secretly wondered if she would ever hear from her again. Likely not. And perhaps that was for the best. Belinda still had other clients to tend to, after all. The doctor, of course. And Myles Lott. And Sarah Jo. All of these were surely in need of encouragement.