Autumn's Angel

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  The sight of the two of them caused the breath to catch in Luvena’s chest. Yesterday she’d assumed Clay Birch didn’t want children because he didn’t like them. Or at least didn’t like other men’s children. But that couldn’t be true. Look at him. No, this was not a man who disliked children.

  Somehow Luvena found her voice. “I’m ready, Mr. Birch.”

  He looked up. “So am I.” He leaned forward so he could meet Elsie’s gaze. “Thanks for sharing your book with me.”

  “You’re welcome, Mr. Birch.”

  Luvena hadn’t seen Elsie look this happy in many weeks. She decided right then, whatever else she had to face, she would be grateful to Clay Birch for that.

  He moved the girl off his knee and stood. “Okay, let’s go.”

  Luvena looked at Merry.

  The girl grimaced, sighed, and nodded in quick succession. “I know. I know. Look after them while you’re gone.” Apparently Mr. Birch’s charm had failed to affect the older sister as easily as it had the younger.

  The thought made Luvena smile.

  Clay grabbed a burlap sack from the floor near the door, and the two of them left the house. They followed Adams Street past the opera house and turned right onto Main Street. As they walked, Clay shared more about Grand Coeur than he had the previous evening. Luvena learned not only the street names but the names of the sheriff, the town doctor, the publisher of the tri-weekly newspaper, and the banker. She learned that the Presbyterian church—she could see it up on the hillside—had been the first and only church in Grand Coeur for several years, but now there were also a Catholic church and a Lutheran church.

  Three churches, but more than ten saloons.

  Several blocks later, when they turned right again—this time on Jefferson Street—Clay pointed out a dressmaker’s shop. “Reverend Adair’s daughter, Shannon, told me once that Mrs. Treehorn is the finest dressmaker in the territory.” He laughed. “Although what she thought a bachelor would do with the information, I have no idea.”

  Luvena liked his laugh. “Perhaps she meant it for your future wife.” Perhaps she meant it for me.

  “I would believe that, only she told me before I’d given any thought to marriage.” His grin broadened, as if he’d remembered something more. “You’ll like Shannon when you meet her. She’s quite the lady.”

  Luvena’s lighthearted feeling fled, replaced by something not as sweet. Jealousy? But that made no sense. She had no right to feel jealous of anyone, especially not when it came to Mr. Birch.

  They walked on, and Clay pointed out the area south of Grand Coeur known as Chinatown. “There’s been trouble here in the past, although not as much lately. Some miners don’t think the Chinamen have a right to be here or to mine their own claims. The truth is, many of the Chinese are more successful because they aren’t afraid of hard work and long days. And most don’t waste what gold they find on liquor or women in the saloons.”

  Another turn to the right, now onto Lewis Street, brought their destination into view. After what Clay had just told her, she was surprised when she saw the name of the store—Wu Lok’s Mercantile.

  As if Luvena had expressed her surprise aloud, Clay said, “Wu Lok’s got the best prices and the best selection in Grand Coeur. Everybody knows he’s fair and honest. Even folks who think the Chinese should be sent packing shop in this store to save money.” He pulled open the door. “Come on. I’ll introduce you.”

  •••

  Inside the mercantile, Clay introduced Luvena to Wu Lok and to several customers as well. With each introduction, there was a moment of awkwardness. He could tell people expected him to say that she was his intended or to announce their wedding date. Luvena must have felt the awkwardness too, for as soon as their shopping was done and they stepped outside, she broached the subject they’d avoided throughout their walk.

  “There won’t be much opportunity for a woman like me to find employment here in Grand Coeur. Will there?”

  “No.”

  “I’m not an accomplished seamstress like Mrs. Treehorn, and I’m not trained as a teacher. Whatever else is there for me to do?” Fear laced her words. Fear, but also determination.

  But of course. Wasn’t it obvious? He should have thought of it before. “For now, you can work for me.”

  “For you?”

  “Yes, you can help me manage the opera house. With your experience, it’ll be the perfect fit.”

  She shook her head slowly. “To what experience do you refer?”

  That was when he knew. The mysterious letter writer at the Hitching Post had struck again. “You never worked in an opera house, did you?”

  “No. Whatever made you think—” She broke off as understanding dawned on her too.

  “What do you know about opera, Miss Abbott?”

  “I received vocal training as a young woman. Before the death of my parents.”

  “Did you ever perform on the stage?”

  One of those small smiles that he was learning to anticipate played across her mouth. “Not really. I sang in church on occasion, and I was in a local production when I was fourteen. My vocal instructor said I had perfect pitch, and that if I’d been born to another family, I might have had a career singing. I don’t know if that is true or not, but I believed it for a while. I hoped for it for a time. But, of course, such a thing would not have met with my parents’ approval, even if . . . things had turned out differently.”

  She’d wanted to be an opera singer but her family wouldn’t have approved. Why did that bit of information tug at his chest?

  Luvena forged on. “Mr. Birch, my family were patrons of the arts before our money was lost. I have seen numerous operas and plays performed in Boston and Newport and New York. Even in London. I believe I may still be of help to you.” She paused to draw a breath. “If you’ll allow me.”

  What choice did he have? What choice did either of them have? She had no money at all and what funds he had were tied up in the Grand Coeur Opera House. It seemed, even without marriage, that their futures—at least their immediate ones—were tied together.

  He would have to get used to sleeping in his office.

  Chapter Six

  When Luvena put the two younger children to bed, life didn’t seem as hopeless as it had seemed that morning. She would work for Clay Birch, helping him with the opening and running of the opera house, and in addition to the modest salary she would receive, she and the children would have a place to live and food to eat. Plus, he’d promised her a bonus if the theater made a profit at the end of three months.

  It wasn’t a great deal of money, but it should be enough so she and the children could leave Grand Coeur and settle someplace where there were more employment opportunities. Or perhaps more marriage opportunities. After all, the scandal that had stained her name in the East was rather meaningless here in the West. Or so she hoped.

  After kissing Ethan and Elsie good night, she left the bedroom. She found Merry still seated in the rocking chair, mending a tear in the skirt of her favorite gown.

  At fourteen, Luvena had been—and still was—rather hopeless with a needle and thread. But then, she’d had a lady’s maid seeing to her every need until her father’s misfortunes. Merry had been much younger when financial loss and scandal struck, robbing her of such luxuries.

  “Do you have enough light?” Luvena asked as she moved closer to the rocking chair.

  Merry glanced toward the nearby lamp. “Yes, Aunt Vena. I can see.”

  “What a fine job you’re doing. No one will ever know the fabric was torn.”

  “I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to wear it. There’s no more fabric to be let out.” Pink tinged her cheeks.

  Luvena understood why. Although Merry most likely had her full height, she was still developing a woman’s figure. The bodices of her clothes had grown sn
ug in recent months.

  Luvena settled onto the sofa. “Mr. Birch pointed out a dress shop when we went to the mercantile this afternoon. Perhaps Mrs. Treehorn, the proprietress, could help us remake a few of your dresses.”

  “It would cost too much.”

  “Perhaps not. It wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

  Merry’s eyes widened as she sat straighter in the chair. “Maybe I could do some piecework for the dressmaker. Surely I could make a little money that way.”

  “I can’t ask you—”

  “Yes, you can, Aunt Vena. I’m old enough to help provide something. I know sometimes I don’t act like it, but I am.”

  “What about school?”

  “Is there one?”

  Luvena had no answer to that. Clay hadn’t pointed out a schoolhouse during their walk, and she hadn’t thought to ask him. She’d simply assumed there was one for the children to attend. Oh dear. How would she manage if not? She was even less suited for teaching than she was for sewing.

  “Aunt Vena?”

  “Yes, Merry.”

  “We’re going to be all right. God’s watching out for us, like you always tell us. He wasn’t surprised about those letters the way you and Mr. Birch were. He knew about it all the time and brought us here anyway. It must be part of His plan.”

  Tension drained from Luvena’s shoulders. “How very wise you’ve become, Esmeralda Browne.”

  Merry smiled.

  “I believe I’ll go sit on the back stoop and enjoy the cool night air.” Luvena stood. “Would you like to join me?”

  As if in answer, Merry yawned. Then she chuckled. “No, thank you. I think I’ll go to bed and finish mending this dress tomorrow.”

  Luvena stepped over to the rocking chair and placed a kiss on the crown of her niece’s head. “Sleep well, Merry.”

  “You too, Aunt Vena.” The girl yawned again.

  Luvena left the parlor, passing through the kitchen on her way to the back door. She took pleasure in the tidiness of the room. Much had been accomplished today, despite the upheaval of emotions and weariness from many days of travel.

  Tomorrow would bring new challenges, no doubt, but for now, she felt an unexpected peace.

  •••

  Clay was standing in the dark behind the theater—wrestling with the present, fighting with the future, trying to find a way past the dilemma he found himself in—when he saw the back door of the house open and Luvena Abbott step onto the small back porch, light spilling around her from the kitchen. Then the door closed and night enveloped her again. Without the glow of the moon, he couldn’t see any other movement, but he guessed she remained on the stoop.

  “Father”—her words drifted to him on a soft breeze—“I thank You for all You are doing, for all You have done. In my life. In the lives of Merry and Ethan and Elsie. Help me know what we are to do next.”

  He supposed his thoughts—the wrestling, fighting, and answer-seeking—had been a kind of prayer, but her simple words were far better. They were a more faith-filled prayer, revealing an uncomplicated trust. Something he hadn’t mastered. It drew him across the short stretch of ground. As he came closer, a twig snapped beneath his boot, and he heard a gasp of surprise.

  “It’s me, Luvena.”

  “Mr. Birch?”

  Only when she called him by his surname did he realize he’d used her given name. Had she noticed? It felt natural. Would she mind?

  “May I join you?” he asked.

  “Of course.”

  He turned and sat on the top step next to her. She moved slightly away—he assumed to give him more room—though he was sorry for it.

  “It’s a beautiful evening,” she said.

  “Autumn’s in the air. It’ll be too cool to sit outside soon.”

  “What is winter like in these mountains?”

  “It can be harsh. Most years there’s deep snow for several months.”

  “I like the snow.”

  Clay wished he could see her face and not just a shadowy form. He was certain she smiled. “I like it too. Except when it’s piled up to the roofline and I can’t get out for days at a time. Then I start to feel boxed in.” He shuddered at the thought. Close spaces had troubled him since he’d been locked in a closet as a boy. He shook his head to free himself of the bad memory.

  “Do you know what Merry said to me before I came outside?”

  “What?”

  “That God knew about the changes to the letters and brought us here anyway, so it must be what He wanted.”

  Now that was a different way to look at their current situation. He’d been so busy being angry with the turn of events in the past twenty-four hours, he hadn’t considered there might be a divine hand guiding them.

  Was it true?

  He rubbed the back of his neck, unsure what to say. Unsure what he felt or believed.

  “Mr. Birch?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m very grateful for the compromise you have made. Offering employment, I mean, when you weren’t obligated to help us in any way. I will do everything in my power not to disappoint you.”

  “I believe you . . .” Luvena.

  The desire to take her in his arms, to draw her close, to kiss those generous lips, enveloped him like a fire. If not for those kids—

  He stood before he could give in to temptation. “I’m going to turn in. Good night, Miss Abbott.”

  “Good night.”

  He was almost to the back door of the theater before he thought he heard something more. Before he thought he heard her say, “Clay.”

  Chapter Seven

  Clay went alone on Saturday morning to meet with Reverend Adair. Why subject Luvena to any embarrassment that might result from discussing their situation with the pastor? Besides, if they weren’t to marry, they had no need to speak to the minister as a couple.

  “Well,” the reverend said when Clay had explained about the altered letters and Luvena’s nieces and nephew, “this is an odd turn of events, is it not?”

  “It is.”

  “And you’re certain the children make the union between you and Miss Abbott impossible?”

  “I am.”

  “I ask because my son-in-law’s nephew, Todd, was nine when he came to live in Grand Coeur, and he’s turned into rather a fine young man, despite his surroundings these past six years. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “That’s quite a different situation.”

  “Is it?” The reverend steepled his fingertips and touched them to his lips.

  “Yes. For one thing, Matthew’s job with Wells, Fargo was settled and secure from the start. He wasn’t embarking on a new venture that could well end in financial ruin. He could support his wife and nephew, and he had the time to dedicate himself to raising the boy well.”

  “Yes, that is all true.”

  Clay leaned forward in his chair. “Reverend Adair, this isn’t Miss Abbott’s fault, but neither is it mine. I was up front about not wanting a woman with children for a wife. My new opera house is no place for young kids and, like it or not, neither is this town. And I’m sure not the right man to become a father to them. I wouldn’t be good at it. I’m too much like—” He broke off abruptly.

  Reverend Adair’s gaze was penetrating, and Clay began to fear the minister would see the things he wasn’t willing to talk about.

  The older man broke the lengthening silence. “But because you’re willing to employ Miss Abbott, even for the short term, you will still have the children around the theater sometimes. Won’t you?”

  “I suppose. But not for long. Not permanently. This is a temporary solution. As soon as other arrangements can be made, Miss Abbott and the children will leave Grand Coeur.”

  Reverend Adair leaned forward. “I believe there is something you aren’t telling me, Clay
. Something that has nothing to do with Miss Abbott. Something that weighs heavily on you and has for a long while.”

  Clay tensed. “There’s nothing more to tell.” It was an outright lie, and he figured the reverend knew it.

  “It might help to talk it through.”

  “No.”

  “Mmm. Well, it seems your mind is made up, then.”

  “Yes.” It surprised Clay, the regret he felt.

  “Would you mind if I paid Miss Abbott a call? Perhaps our church can be of some assistance to her. I might know of someone down in Boise City who could give her employment and find a suitable place for her and the children to live.”

  “Sure.” He shrugged. “Sounds good to me.”

  “Then I shall do so.” Reverend Adair rose. “And I shall continue to pray for you both.”

  Clay stood too. “Thanks. I reckon we’ll need it.”

  “Mmm.”

  The two men shook hands, and Clay left the reverend’s office.

  He’d expected to feel relief after talking to his good friend and trusted mentor. But he didn’t. Instead, he felt more unsettled than before, though he couldn’t put his finger on the reason why.

  “Would you mind if I paid Miss Abbott a call?”

  Strange question. Why would Clay mind if the reverend called on Luvena? Especially if he could be of some help to her.

  “I might know of someone down in Boise City who could give her employment and find a suitable place for her and the children to live.”

  Clay hoped—if the person the reverend had mentioned came through with a job and house—that it wouldn’t be too soon. After all, he’d asked Luvena to help him with the opening of the opera house. He was depending on her now.

  •••

  Since Clay hadn’t wanted Luvena along when he met with the minister—and she hadn’t wanted to go—she decided the morning was a good time to go exploring. She and the children had been inactive too long. They’d been shut up in railroad cars and stagecoaches and even this small house for what seemed an eternity.

  But it wasn’t the town that Luvena wanted to see. It was the forested hillsides that beckoned to her. And so, as soon as the breakfast dishes were washed, dried, and put back on the shelf, she and her young charges set off. It took a few tries before they found the right road to follow, but soon enough they left Grand Coeur behind them. The cool nights of September had begun to turn the leaves on the aspens to gold. The colors weren’t dramatic yet, but they made a nice contrast amid the green of the tall pines.