A Season of the Heart

by Dorothy Clark

  * * *

  “It’s nice to see you again, Ellen.” Cole Aylward shrugged into his jacket. “But I’m a bit pressed for time on an order, so if you ladies will excuse me, I’ve work to do in the shop.”

  “Of course.” Ellen nodded and busied herself removing her cloak and bonnet but still caught a glimpse of the look Sadie and her husband exchanged, the way he touched her hand before he went outside. It almost seemed a...a promise of some sort. She glanced away but couldn’t forget the look in Cole’s eyes. It was the same way she’d seen Matthew look at Willa. And not at all the way Mr. Lodge looked at her. Her unease returned.

  “I’m so glad you’ve come to visit, Ellen.” Sadie took her cloak and bonnet from her and hung them on a peg. “You must be chilled after your ride from town. Shall we have a cup of hot cider or tea to warm you?”

  “Tea sounds delightful.” She looked down, shook out her skirts and smoothed her bodice. Thinking about Sadie and Cole only added to her confusion. She’d do best to concentrate on the reason she’d come.

  “Why don’t you come into the kitchen with me while I prepare it. This is Gertrude’s day off, and Nanna is...having a bad day.” Sadie sighed and turned toward the kitchen.

  Ellen fluffed her curls and followed, latched on to the safe topic, determined to shake off her growing disquiet and return to her purpose. “I’m sorry about your grandmother, Sadie. How is your grandfather faring?”

  “Poppa is doing well. The rolling chair Cole made for him has given him a large measure of his independence back. At least around the house. It’s an amazing creation. And it’s turned into a very lucrative livelihood, better than even the shingle mill provides. It seems there are a lot of infirm people in New York City.” Sadie opened the drafts and pulled the teakettle forward. “It’s astonishing how God took Cole’s act of kindness toward grandfather and turned it into a blessing for Cole...for us. God truly does work in mysterious ways.”

  Be not high-minded, nor trust in uncertain riches, but in the living God, who giveth us richly all things to enjoy.

  The topic wasn’t as safe as she’d assumed. It had brought to her memory another bit of Scripture from Matthew Calvert’s sermon. They kept coming to her. She shoved the verse to the back of her mind and tried again. “Have you tried the chair?”

  “Not exactly.”

  A blush stole across Sadie’s cheeks. Ellen stepped closer, intrigued by her friend’s reaction to the harmless question. “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing. It’s—” Sadie turned and took a tin of tea from the cupboard. “Cole gave me a ride to show me how the chair worked.”

  “You mean on his lap?”

  The pink in Sadie’s cheeks turned a dark rose.

  “Why, Sadie Aylward!” She choked back her laughter, raised her brows and tsk-tsked.

  “He’s my husband! Now stop teasing.”

  Sadie laughed, but her cheeks were flaming. Sadie, who had been terrified of men for so many years. She studied her friend’s eyes. The fear that had shadowed them for so long was gone. Sadie looked like the happy person she’d been before the attack. And Cole Aylward had brought about that remarkable change.

  “You truly love him, don’t you?” The thought popped out of her mouth. So much for staying on a safe subject. She waved her hand through the air, trying to erase her words. “I’m sorry. That was rude. I didn’t mean to—”

  “Yes. I truly love him.” Tears pooled in Sadie’s eyes. “It’s—it’s wondrous, Ellen. After Payne’s attack I was certain I would never trust another man, let alone love one. The very thought of marriage made me shudder. But Cole is so wonderful! He’s so good and honest and kind and generous and loving and...and...”

  “Thoughtful? Tender?”

  “Yes.” Sadie laughed and brushed tears from her cheeks. “Thank you. I’d run out of adjectives.”

  “It’s an impressive list.” Remarkably akin to the one she’d heard in church on Sunday. A list she could not apply to Mr. Lodge.

  “I’m sorry, Ellen. I’ve been talking only about myself.” Sadie smiled, gave her an expectant look. “We heard your beau is in Pinewood. You must be very excited. Has he asked for your hand?”

  “Not yet, though he confided he is going to.” She rubbed her temples to hide her face lest Sadie see her lack of enthusiasm. “He has taken Father to Olville for a demonstration ride in his booby hut sleigh and intends to ask for my hand when they return.” Where was the excitement she should be feeling? The satisfaction? She had reached her goal.

  “That’s wonderful! I’m so happy for you, Ellen!” Sadie gave her a hug, then stepped back, a frown on her face. “Is something wrong, Ellen? You’re very quiet and contained for a soon-to-be-betrothed young woman.”

  She squared her shoulders, took a breath. “The truth is I don’t know if I will accept Mr. Lodge’s offer. There are many things I must consider—including Mr. Cuthbert.”

  “I see.” Sadie picked up the tin of tea and tugged the cover off. “Forgive me for prying, Ellen, but...do you not love Mr. Lodge?”

  No. Only the things he can give me. The truth hung in her thoughts, bald and ugly. She wrapped her arms about herself, feeling sick. Was she truly prepared to marry a man she had discovered she didn’t even like—for things? Was that what her parents—

  “Does Willa need more greens or firewood, Ellen?”

  She lifted her head, grateful for Sadie’s tactful change of subject and the interruption of her uncomfortable thoughts. “I don’t know about the firewood, but we have more than enough greens. Daniel and I finished the church decorations Saturday.”

  “Yes. Matthew told us how lovely the church and gazebo look when he came to minister to us on Sunday afternoon. But I wasn’t certain about the parsonage.”

  “We made a wreath for the door and a few sprays and garlands. They’re not hung yet, however. They’re waiting for when Willa is ready for them. The baby has been fussy and taking a good deal of her time, and Bertha has gone to visit her niece.” She blew out a breath, rubbed the tense muscle at the side of her neck. “I did want to ask you if you thought Grandfather Townsend would allow us—I mean Daniel, of course—to cut a Christmas tree for the parsonage. I think Joshua and Sally would like one. And Daniel has agreed.”

  “A Christmas tree? What a wonderful idea. The children will love it.” Sadie smiled and picked up a spoon. “I know Poppa will agree. Though it would be dangerous for Daniel to go alone into the woods to cut one in this deep snow.”

  “Yes. He endangered himself cutting the greens.” You worried about me, Musquash? She frowned. Was that so inconceivable? Did she seem that callous to her old friends?

  “I heard. Perhaps Matthew will go with him to cut the tree.” Sadie spooned tea into a red-and-white china teapot, placed matching cups and saucers and spoons on a pewter tray, then added a sugar bowl and creamer. “It must have been fun working on the decorations with Daniel. He hasn’t changed a bit. He’s still as kind and generous and—”

  “Are you going to go through the list again?” She tried to make it sound amusing, but it came out a little too acerbic. She couldn’t help it. She did not want to hear those attributes ascribed to Daniel—not even if he deserved them.

  Sadie looked at her.

  She sighed, raised her hands and rubbed her temples. “I’m sorry, Sadie. I didn’t mean to sound waspish. I have a bit of a head.”

  “Perhaps the tea will help.” Sadie poured the hot water into the teapot and covered it with a towel to steep. “Why don’t you sit at the table and rest, Ellen? I’ll be right back. I want to ask Poppa and Nanna if they would like tea.”

  “I’m not in pain, Sadie, only a bit uncomfortable.” And growing more so. “I don’t need to rest. I’ll go in with you and pay my respects. And ask about the tree.”

  “Nanna may not
recognize you, Ellen.”

  The sadness in Sadie’s voice brought her self-centered thoughts to a halt. “I know.” She stepped to Sadie’s side, smiled and gave her a quick hug. “But it doesn’t matter, because I will know that inside, Grandmother Townsend is as sweet and gracious as she’s always been.”

  Sadie caught her breath and nodded. “Thank you, Ellen. I...cling to the thought that somewhere inside, Nanna is still the same.”

  “I’m certain it’s so.” She stepped back, unaccustomed to the role of comforter. “I meant to tell you how much I like the wreath on your door. That carved wood bird attached to it is lovely. And I’ve recently become an expert on decorations, you know.” She gave a self-deprecating wrinkle of her nose.

  Sadie laughed and headed for the hallway. “Daniel carved the chickadee and gave it to us for a wedding present. I’ve always enjoyed feeding the birds, of course.”

  “I didn’t know Daniel did carvings.”

  “Oh, yes. He gave us all one as a gift when we married. He carved Willa a horse, because she’d always wanted one. And Callie a deer, because she loved going to the deer path and watching for them.”

  “I remember.” She’d been forbidden to go into the woods, so she’d pretended she no longer wanted to.

  “I’m sure he will make you a carving for a gift, as well. Why, he’s probably already working on it as you will be announcing your betrothal to one of your beaux soon.”

  Sadie was wrong. She was certain of that. Sadie was thinking of the way it was when they were all friends. But that time had passed. Daniel would not spend his time making a carving as a wedding present for her—not the way he felt about her and her beaux. And if he did, it would probably be a muskrat. She thrust away the hurtful thoughts and followed Sadie through the arched doorway into the sitting room, where Manning Townsend was reading aloud to his wife.

  “Nanna, Poppa, we have a visitor, and I thought you might like to join us for tea.”

  Ellen crossed the room and smiled at the elderly couple. “Good afternoon, Grandmother Townsend, Grandfather Townsend. It’s so good to see you again.”

  “And you, Ellen.” Manning Townsend tucked his fingertip in his book and looked up at her. “It’s kind of you to call.”

  Rachel Townsend stared at her. “Do I know you, young woman?”

  She nodded and smiled. “I’m Ellen Hall, Sadie’s friend.”

  “Sadie went away.”

  “Yes. But she’s come home, and now Ellen has come to call.” Manning Townsend’s voice seemed to penetrate his wife’s confusion. Rachel Townsend turned toward him. He took her hand in his and smiled.

  Her throat squeezed at the look in his eyes. She cleared away the tightness, drew a breath. “I wanted to tell you, Grandfather Townsend, how lovely the greens you donated make the church look.” She smiled as they both looked up at her, noted the spark of interest in Rachel Townsend’s eyes and hurried to describe the decorations. “There is a large wreath on the front door, garlands at the top of the windows and sprays on the pew doors. We haven’t yet decorated the parsonage. We were hoping that perhaps you would donate a Christmas tree for the children to enjoy? Daniel would cut it for us.”

  “A Christmas tree? That’s a wonderful idea. I should have thought of that. Those children will love a tree.” Manning Townsend smiled and nodded his consent.

  Rachel Townsend looked perplexed. “What is a Christmas tree?”

  “It’s a decoration, Nanna.” Sadie smiled, glanced her way. “Ellen has decorated the church and also the gazebo. It looks very festive with the greens swooping in graceful loops from pillar to pillar and pretty red bows with long ties that flutter in the wind.”

  “My, that must be lovely. I like bows....” Rachel Townsend sighed.

  Manning Townsend straightened, took the book off his lap and placed it on the lamp stand beside him. “Sadie, I want you to ring the bell for Cole and ask him to please hitch up the sleigh. You young ladies may have your tea. I’m going to take your grandmother into town to see the gazebo.”

  “I’m sorry, Poppa, but Cole is too busy to drive you to town today. Perhaps—”

  “We’re going alone.”

  Alone! She glanced at Sadie, saw the concern leap into her friend’s eyes.

  “That’s not necessary, Poppa. I can—”

  “No, Sadie. We’re going alone.” Her grandfather’s tone was firm, his expression resolute. “I still have one good hand, and it won’t be the first time I’ve driven a horse one handed while your grandmother was with me—though then it was for a very different reason.”

  “Poppa!”

  Ellen gasped, tried to hide her shock behind a cough.

  Manning Townsend chuckled. “My apologies for the indelicacy of mentioning our spooning in front of you, Ellen.” He sobered and waved his good hand toward Sadie. “Go on now and ring for Cole, while my best girl and I get ready to go for a sleigh ride.”

  Spooning...his best girl... The words repeated themselves in time with the swish of their long skirts as she hurried with Sadie to the kitchen. Did her father feel that way about her mother? Had he ever?

  “I’ll be back in a minute, Ellen. I have to ring the bell for Cole.” Sadie took a cape off a peg by the door, pulled it on and stepped out onto the porch.

  Spooning. She uncovered the teapot and set it on the tray, tried to remember if she had ever seen or heard any signs of affection between her parents. It was certain she had never seen them look at one another the way Willa and Matthew and Sadie and Cole and even Rachel and Manning looked at one another. Still, they had a beautiful home—one of the best in town. There was no discord between them. And they were unfailingly courteous to one another. Was that what she wanted? Courtesy and comfort? Was that enough?

  The door squeaked open. Sadie slipped back inside, hung the cloak on the peg and turned toward her, rubbing her hands together. “Now, I’m ready for that tea.”

  She stared at Sadie’s shining eyes, the mussed hair on the right side of her head, as if fingers had burrowed through it, and the disquieting question returned. Were things enough?

  Chapter Twelve

  “I understand you took the cutter out while Mr. Lodge and I were in Olville, Ellen.”

  Isobel or Asa? Ellen laid her fork on her cake plate and glanced toward her father sitting at the head of the table. “Yes, I did. I went to call on Sadie and Cole, and Mr. and Mrs. Townsend. But you’ve no need for concern, Father. I haven’t forgotten how to handle a horse during my time in Buffalo.”

  “Had it not been in use, the booby hut and my driver would have been at your disposal, Miss Hall. It would have kept you warm.”

  She glanced across the table, met another of Harold Lodge’s smug smiles. The message he’d been sending her during the meal was clear. He had gained her father’s blessing to ask for her hand—not that there had ever been any question as to her father’s response. The only doubt involved was hers. She still hadn’t decided how to answer when he posed the question to her, and she was feeling surrounded and pressured and...miffed. She pulled up one of her practiced smiles and reached for her glass. “The weather was agreeable. I was quite comfortable in the cutter. And I found driving myself quite enjoyable. I’d forgotten how invigorating it could be.”

  “I trust you had a nice visit, dear?” Her mother gave her a warning look over the top of the napkin she was using to dab her lips.

  Evidently, she hadn’t been fawning enough in her response to Mr. Lodge. “Yes, very nice, Mother. Sadie sends her regards. And I’m sure Grandmother Townsend would, too, were she able.” The mention of Rachel Townsend’s infirmity earned her another look.

  Her mother dipped her head and smiled, then swept her gaze across the table. “Would you care for more dessert, Mr. Lodge?”

  “No, thank you. It is exce
llent cake, Mrs. Hall, but I’ve had my fill.”

  “Very well, then. Ellen and I will leave you gentlemen to enjoy an after-dinner cigar and await you in the sitting room.”

  Her father and Mr. Lodge stood as she rose and followed her mother from the dining room. It wouldn’t be long now. She pressed her hand against her stomach, regretting the little supper she had eaten.

  “What is wrong with you tonight, Ellen!” Her mother spun about and all but hissed the words at her as they entered the sitting room. “You know perfectly well Mr. Lodge has spoken with your father and intends to ask you for your hand this evening, and you—”

  “Don’t know what I will answer.”

  Her mother stared, took in a breath. “You are playing a dangerous game, Ellen. Mr. Lodge does not seem a patient man. He may not be willing to wait for your decision until after Mr. Cuthbert’s visit.”

  “Then the decision will be made for me.” She stepped past her mother, crossed the room and stood by the hearth, soaking up the warmth of the fire, wishing it could reach her heart. Wishing her growing disquiet would go away.

  “Ellen, consider what you are—”

  “Are you happy, Mother?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  She lifted her gaze from the dancing flames to her mother. “I asked if you are happy.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous! What has that to do with—?”

  “Does Father have an endearment for you? Has he ever called you his best girl?”

  “Certainly not! Your father would never use such a vulgar expression.” Her mother’s eyes narrowed, and her long skirts swished as she rushed over to her. “Sadie has put this nonsense into your head, hasn’t she? ‘Best girl’ is the exact sort of thing Cole Aylward would—”

  “Not Cole, Mother—Grandfather Townsend.”

  “One and the same.” Her mother sniffed, waved her hand. “Manning Townsend was lowborn, too. Rachel married beneath her, against her parents’ wishes. Who knows to what heights in society Rachel would have risen had she listened to them. She was a beautiful, wellborn young woman with wealthy beaux, but she and Manning were besotted with one another and she’d have no other.”