by Ann Shorey
Matthew strode to the cloakroom, where he found a broom leaning in one corner. While he was there he could sweep the floor. He noticed a stack of rags in a bucket and tucked one into his back pocket, planning to polish the altar.
As he left the storage area, the door to the church creaked open, laying a bar of sunlight across the rear benches. He turned to see an unmistakable figure silhouetted in the doorway.
“Mrs. Beldon?”
She stepped inside. Tipping her head in her characteristic way, she looked up at Matthew. “It’s time you and I talked.”
He glanced over her shoulder to see if her husband had followed her.
Evidently reading his action, Mrs. Beldon’s mouth twisted into a smile. “You’re wondering how I got here? I walked. I’m not quite the invalid my husband makes me out to be.” She slid onto a bench and patted the space beside her. “Do sit.”
Matthew complied, wondering what she felt they had to talk about. He leaned forward and rested his hands on his knees. “What can I do for you?”
“You can listen. There’s something you need to know.” She lifted her head and he looked directly into her penetrating brown eyes. “I’ve watched while my husband has done his best to become the most important man in this town. He saw in you an influence that he had to suppress, and unfortunately it seems he has succeeded. But I can’t sit by and let it happen.” Mrs. Beldon tapped his hand briefly. “Marcus didn’t come here because he believed Beldon Grove to be his birthright, or whatever twaddle he may have told you. He came here because he failed at everything he tried back home, and my father gave him a stake for one last chance.” A flush tinted her cheeks.
“I recognize how difficult this is—”
“Please do me the courtesy of listening until I’m finished.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Now it seems he’s failing at his scheme to take over your congregation. Some of the members called on him last week and told him to cease preaching in this church.”
A feeling of relief swept over Matthew. “So he won’t be back?”
“Marcus ignored them. He ignores everyone who doesn’t agree with him.”
Matthew looked down at his cracked and dusty boots. He’d be willing to preach at Wolcott’s store every Sunday if he had to. But then he thought about the towns he’d visited on his circuit, and what church division had done to their inhabitants. He couldn’t allow the current situation to continue. He closed his eyes. Lord, guide me.
In the silence, Mrs. Beldon drew a deep breath and held it for a moment, then released it in a sigh. “Marcus only married me because of my father’s money. Who else would want me, with this crippled body?” She held up a twisted hand. “For a long time, I pretended he loved me, but I can’t lie to myself any longer. I’ve sent word to my father to come take me home.” Tears pooled in her eyes.
Matthew’s heart softened toward the woman he’d always believed to be cold and withdrawn. Seething at Beldon’s arrogance, he cradled her hands in his. “I’m sorry.”
She pulled away, assuming her former brittle tone. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I allowed it.”
She stood and moved toward the door. With one hand on the latch, she turned and looked back. “Whatever happens, don’t let him intimidate you. You belong in this pulpit.”
Ellie sat near the kitchen window, removing the stitching from the cloth body of Graciana’s doll. The child watched as tufts of cotton dropped onto the table. Once the stuffing in the arms and legs was removed, Ellie plucked at the batting that surrounded the doll’s stiffened middle section. Sliding her hand inside, she closed her fingers around a wooden cylinder and drew it out.
Graciana leaned forward. “That’s what Papa gave Aunt Polly to sew into Nora.”
The carved object rested in Ellie’s palm. A wax-covered cork closed one end. Ellie’s fingers tingled with the desire to open the container, but she hesitated and then handed it to Graciana.
The child turned the cylinder over in her hands and tugged at the cork. “Do you think there’s treasure in here?” Her eyes sparkled.
Ellie caught her excitement. “Why don’t you find out?”
The cork held fast, no matter how hard Graciana pulled at it. Defeated, she gave the container back to Ellie. “There’s too much wax on the outside. It won’t open.”
“Well, let’s help it along.” Ellie stood and selected a knife from a drawer in the worktable. Before cutting through the thick layer of wax, she glanced at the stove where a kettle filled with soapy water waited.
She set the knife aside and moved the kettle to the worktable, then lowered Nora’s grimy fabric body into the water. After placing the cylinder on a cutting board, she rolled the wax under the knife blade. Using a twisting motion, she removed the cork and poked inside the opening with her index finger.
Graciana crowded close. “What is it?”
She plucked the cylinder from Ellie’s hand and peered inside, then turned it upside down and tapped it on the edge of the table. A tube-shaped bundle of paper slid out. Once freed, it tumbled over and dropped to the floor, unrolling as it fell.
Disappointment clouded Graciana’s features. She held the paper in one hand and studied the writing that filled the page. “No treasure.” Her brown eyes met Ellie’s. “I hoped maybe gold or silver.”
Ellie concealed a smile. “Maybe this paper is a treasure map. Was your papa a pirate?”
“No!” Graciana looked offended. She thrust the paper at Ellie. “Read it to me, please.”
Glancing over the closely written lines of text, Ellie saw it was a letter. She moved to the rocking chair beneath the stairwell and opened her arms. “Come sit on my lap. We’ll see what it says.”
Instead, Graciana walked to the worktable and peered at her doll soaking in the kettle. “I think she’s clean enough. Can we get her out and dry her off first?”
Ellie laid the letter down and joined Graciana. Rolling up her sleeves, she tested the water temperature with one finger, then squeezed the soapy mixture through the fabric. After rinsing, she carried the wet, limp Nora out to the porch and draped her over the back of a chair.
“As warm as it is today, she’ll be ready for new stuffing before suppertime.”
Graciana examined the doll. “She does look better. Thank you.” She took Ellie’s hand. “Now, let’s read.”
The rocker creaked when Ellie settled Graciana onto her lap.
My very dearest Graciana,
The child smiled and snuggled closer.
When Aunt Polly takes you to my old home, you will hear stories about me. I wanted to tell you those stories myself when you were older, but I don’t have much time left, so I have to write this down and hope you will understand someday.
A long time ago, when I was a young man, I had another daughter. Her name was Eleanor. Her mama died when she was very little, just like your mama did. I didn’t know how to take care of a child. It shames me to tell you this now, but I left her behind with my family and followed Mr. Austin’s men to Texas. I never saw her again.
Hot blood rose in Ellie’s cheeks. “‘Eleanor’?”
“What?” Graciana asked.
Instead of replying, Ellie bent closer to the paper as though she could draw hidden meaning from the script. Tracing the lines with her finger, she read rapidly to the end of the page.
Then you were born in my old age, a blessing from God. After your mama died I promised I’d never leave you, but now I can’t keep my promise. It makes me very sad to know that I won’t see you grow up.
After I’m gone, always remember I love you.
You are my heart.
Your papa.
Ellie leaned back in the chair. He couldn’t be the same man, could he? Her heart pounded as she reread the words. Eleanor. Austin. Texas. She drew a quivering breath and squeezed Graciana close to her chest. He must be.
“Aunt Ellie? What’s wrong?”
“What was your papa’s name?”
�
��Everyone called him Largo. Just Largo.”
Palms sweating, Ellie studied Graciana’s face, taking in the shape of her eyes, her slender, high-bridged nose, her soft, rounded lips.
She cupped the child’s chin in her hand. “Do you remember me telling you my papa was dead?”
Graciana nodded.
“He died last winter.” Ellie had trouble getting the words out.
The child patted her hand in a sympathetic gesture. “So did my papa.”
Ellie took a deep breath. “My name is Eleanor. Ellie’s a pet name. My papa left me behind when he went to Texas, just like this letter says. Graciana, maybe we’re sisters.”
Little hands pressed Ellie’s cheeks. Graciana’s mouth opened in an “O”, then she whispered, “Truly?”
Ellie’s tears ran over the child’s fingers. “Oh, I hope so!”
Footsteps clattered up the porch stairs and the twins dashed into the room.
“When’s dinner—” Johnny stopped, staring at his mother. “What’s wrong?”
Ellie stood Graciana on the floor but kept an arm around her. “Do you remember last month when I told you I wondered whether my father had other children when he lived in Texas?” She fought to keep from crying.
Both boys nodded.
“See this letter?” Ellie handed it to Jimmy with shaking fingers. “It’s from Graciana’s father, and it sounds like he’s talking about me.”
Heads together, the boys read through the message. Their eyes grew wide and they stared at Graciana. Johnny was the first to speak.
“Her last name’s Largo. It’s not the same.”
Ellie rose from the chair. “Maybe he changed his name when he went away. Sometimes people do.” She lifted the paper from her son’s hand and tucked it into the pocket of her skirt. “I know the Lord sent Graciana to us. How else can you explain Papa discovering her on a dock next to the Ohio River? She’s meant to be part of our family.”
“Then God gave you the desires of your heart, didn’t he, Mama? You have a sister,” Jimmy said. He put his hands on Graciana’s shoulders. “I’m glad you’re going to live with us.”
She blushed. “Me too.”
Ellie’s breath caught in her throat. “Oh my word!” She swung around and looked at Johnny. “I have to go to town right now.”
“How? Papa’s gone.” He looked bewildered.
“I’ll walk. You boys stay in the house and mind the children.” Ellie snatched her bonnet from its peg near the door. “Tell Harrison and Maria about Graciana’s letter.”
31
Ellie ran until her sides ached, then she slowed to a walk. Once she caught her breath, she ran again. Sweat trickled down her forehead and stung her eyes. She had to stop Matthew before he reached the Carstairs’ house. Please, Lord, help me.
Breeze from the northeast rustled through the leaves of Wolcotts’ corn crop as she passed their farm. Ellie loosened her bonnet and let it flop against her back, swiping at her forehead with the back of her arm.
Precious minutes ticked by. If only someone would come along and offer her a ride the rest of the way—provided it wasn’t Mr. Beldon.
The road remained deserted.
Finally, she saw the church ahead. Blinding glare from the afternoon sun bounced off its white clapboard siding. Ellie paused in the shadow of the building until her breathing slowed. Trying to think where Matthew would have gone first, she stepped back into the light and hurried to the corner of Adams Street. She squinted across the town square toward the post office. Samson wasn’t tied out front.
Her shoulders drooped. Ellie slowed her steps and trudged toward Hancock Street, eyes on the ground. What if Matthew had already promised Graciana to Penelope? Molly’s cabin lay up the road on the right. Ellie turned in that direction and noticed Matthew’s horse waiting at the hitching rail. Dreading the news he’d have for her, she crossed the road and tapped on the doorframe, then walked inside.
The house was empty. Ellie stood, fighting dizziness. Her head ached and the bodice of her dress was soaked in sweat. She heard voices coming from the rear of the building. When she walked out back, she found Matthew seated in the shade of the silver maple tree with Molly and her family. Luellen had a book open in her lap. Lily sat close to her side, evidently listening while her sister read aloud. Behind them, James and Franklin played mumbletypeg. A jackknife blade glittered in the sun as it arced through the air and landed point first in the ground.
Matthew noticed her first and jumped to his feet. “Ellie. How on earth did you get here?” His face reflected alarm. “What’s happened?”
Ellie shook her head, unable to speak. She’d been so eager to stop him, and now it was too late. Her joy at learning Graciana might be her half-sister turned to pain. She couldn’t face the thought of going to Penelope and telling her she couldn’t take the child after all. But it must be done, and quickly.
Molly came to her side. “You look like you’re going to collapse. Why did you walk all the way here in this heat?”
“I had to stop Matthew.” She turned to him. “What did the Carstairs say?”
“I still haven’t gone.” Matthew flushed. He slid his arm around her shoulders and turned her toward a seat in the shade.
Ellie slumped against him. She tightened her arms around Matthew’s waist and held on, face buried against his chest. The smooth cotton of his shirt felt cool against her cheek. After a moment she drew back and met his questioning gaze.
“What is it? Tell me.”
Molly’s children and Karl all gathered around. Curiosity filled each face.
Ellie glanced at them, then focused again on Matthew. “After you left, I decided to wash Graciana’s doll. When I pulled out the stuffing, I found a wooden tube inside that contained this message from her father.” She took a deep breath and handed the letter to him. “I believe Graciana could be my half-sister.”
“How—” Matthew scanned the contents. When he looked up, his face was a mixture of hope and puzzlement. “He mentions your name, and a detail about Austin, but that doesn’t tell us much. Graciana gave her last name as Largo—your father’s name was Long.”
Karl put his hand on Matthew’s shoulder, interrupting them. “I studied languages in school. Largo is Spanish for Long.” He took the page from Matthew, read it, then handed it to Ellie, shaking his head. “There must be hundreds of men named Long in this country.”
“How many of them went to Texas?” Ellie folded her arms across her chest and tilted her chin upward.
“Could be any number. We don’t know.”
“Matthew just finished telling us about that little girl when you arrived,” Molly said to Ellie, using a peacemaking tone of voice. “Please, sit here and tell us why you think she’s your sister.”
She turned to Luellen. “Bring your aunt a cup of water before she faints dead away from this heat.”
“Don’t tell the story until I get back.” Luellen sped for the house.
When she returned with the water, Ellie surveyed her family, her eyes resting briefly on each face. “I’ll start at the beginning. Just listen before you make up your minds.”
She held out the letter. “Graciana’s father tells of his shame at leaving his little daughter, Eleanor, behind when he left for Texas. I was only three when Aunt Ruby took me in.”
“Wait a minute,” Karl said. “He doesn’t say when he left. Could’ve been any time.”
Ellie lifted a hand to cut him off. “Aunt Ruby said my father followed Austin’s first call for settlers. Graciana told us her papa was old. If we have the same father, he’d have been almost sixty when she was born. Graciana’s father, and mine, died last winter. True, he used the name Largo.” She searched Matthew’s face, hoping she wouldn’t see Karl’s doubts mirrored there. “But I think Largo was probably what people called him. After all, Texas was part of a foreign country when he arrived. He must’ve learned the language to fit in.”
A smile trembled on her lips as she stu
died the faces surrounding her. “Now do you see why I think she’s my sister?”
Matthew seized her in a fierce hug. “I’ve been trying to decide how to tell you I want Graciana to stay with us.” He grinned. “Looks like you don’t need convincing. No wonder you ran all the way to town.”
Keeping an arm around Ellie’s shoulders, Matthew turned to Karl. “We’ll never know if she’s related or not, but I believe God brought Graciana safely from Texas for me to find.”
“Sounds almost like the ending to a play, doesn’t it?” Karl asked, a sly grin on his face.
“We need to tell your aunt right away. Graciana is her niece too.” Matthew’s arm around Ellie’s waist held her steady as they rode Samson toward home. Warmth from his body radiated through her dress. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d been this close.
Whose fault is that? a voice inside seemed to say.
Mine. But I don’t know how to undo it.
Matthew shifted in the saddle. “What do you think Ruby will say?”
“No telling. I can’t wait to see her face when she finds out.”
Once they reached the Newberrys’ farmyard, Ellie noticed that the curtains were drawn across the windows. The back door hadn’t been opened to capture the breeze.
She turned sideways and looked at Matthew. “Do you think something’s wrong?”
“We’ll find out soon enough.” He slid to the ground and walked to the house. When he raised his hand to knock, the door opened before his knuckles struck the wood.
Aunt Ruby stood inside the shadowy kitchen, wearing a black dress covered with an apron. “What brings you here?”
“Something unbelievable has happened.”
Aunt Ruby blinked at him, saying nothing.
“Can we come in?”
She stepped to one side. “Please do.”
Matthew helped Ellie down and led her into the house. She hurried to her aunt and seized her hands. “Are you ready for another niece?” Ellie heard the excitement bubble in her voice.