“We used to spend hours out of doors,” Oona said. “I remember my mama practically sweeping us out with the dust in the morning and telling us to stay in the fresh air till supper.”
“What about you, Mercy?” Deirdre asked.
Mercy opened her mouth to speak but didn’t get a word out before Deirdre realized her error. “I’m sorry, Mercy. I forgot.”
Mercy smiled. “Me, too.”
“I remember loving to play hide-and-seek when I was a boy,” Rand offered. “I recall being quite good at it.”
“I loved that one too,” Deirdre said.
“Let’s play,” Rand said, grinning. “It will make up for my lack of foresight into having a planned activity.”
“Don’t be silly, Rand. We’re grown adults,” Oona said.
“Oh, don’t be a spoilsport, Oona,” Deirdre said. “We can teach it to Mercy, and then she’ll have a memory of a game. Right, Mercy?”
Mercy saw the hopeful look on Rand’s face and smiled. “What are the rules?”
“Well,” Rand started, “one person counts to thirty while the others hurry to hide. The counting person then tries to find the hiding places of the others.”
“I’ll count,” Deirdre said.
Rand looked at Deirdre. “Close your eyes when you count, and no peeking.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t have to peek. I recall being quite good at this game too,” she said, moving off the quilt and going to stand with her face toward a tree. “I’ll even face this direction and shut my eyes while you hide.”
As Deirdre started to count, Rand crossed to Oona and whispered in her ear, “There is a great little tangle of bushes over that way.” He pointed in a direction opposite Deirdre, and as Oona nodded, he added, “She’ll have a hard time finding you.”
Oona hurried off, and Rand took hold of Mercy’s hand and pointed another direction. She nodded, and they made a quick dash across the grass.
“… eight … nine … ten,” Deirdre sang out.
Though she relished holding Rand’s warm hand, Mercy had to ask. “Aren’t we supposed to hide in different places?”
Rand was leading her along a ten-foot wall of manicured hedges. Obviously looking for something, he kept going. “Yes.”
“So are you going to show me a good place to hide?” she asked, a little breathless with the pace he was setting.
“We’re going to hide together,” he said, now trailing his hand over the hedge as they hurried along.
“Isn’t that cheating?”
He looked over at her and grinned. “Probably.” And then he finally found what he was looking for and stopped.
“Here we are,” he said, pulling her through a hidden space in the wall of greenery.
Mercy heard Deirdre call out, “Ready or not, here I come.” But she was too astonished at the sight before her to give Deirdre a second thought. An elaborately staged picnic for two was set on an ivory brocade quilt under the shade of a magnificent oak. Silver ribbons cascaded down from the low-hanging branches of the tree and created a shimmering curtain.
“Oh, Rand. How beautiful.”
Rand slipped an arm around her waist, led her to the quilt, then settled her by a silver platter laden with fat purple grapes and assorted cheeses.
“Hide-and-seek?” she asked.
“A ruse,” he confessed as he sat down right next to her and pulled a bottle from a bucket. He didn’t look the least bit sorry he’d tricked the others, and she realized she wasn’t the least bit sorry either. She glanced around at the beautiful scenery; the wall of hedges they’d managed to slip through created a perfect backdrop for the acres of manicured grounds around them. They sat atop a small rise that looked down on a sprawling estate. She pointed. “Is that …?”
“Home? Yes,” he said, popping the cork on the bottle. He poured the liquid into one of the flutes and handed it to her.
“Champagne,” he explained.
She sipped, wrinkled her nose, and swallowed. “It’s … good.”
He chuckled. “You’ll get used to it.”
Mercy studied him. “Ten minutes ago I would have sworn you were bored to tears and wishing the day away.”
“I promise I could never be bored with you, Mercy.”
She took another sip of her champagne. “Why go to all the trouble of two picnics?”
“Why do you think?”
“Because Oona and Deirdre probably won’t approve of champagne?” She said it with a small smile, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it anyway.
“Yes,” he said, surprising her. “That’s it exactly.”
“Oh,” she said, her smile disappearing.
Rand took her glass, put it down on the silver tray, and reached for her hand. “I am teasing you,” he said. “Of course the reason for two picnics—the reason for the silly game, and the reason I found myself anticipating today so much—was because I wanted to be alone with you. A few stolen moments without the prying eyes of the Little Sisters of Hope.”
Chapter Thirteen
Deirdre had dutifully counted to thirty before she opened her eyes and looked around. She stood still for a few minutes, studying the landscape before setting off to find her hiding companions. In just minutes, she found Oona hiding behind some shrubs.
“Well, that didn’t take too long,” Oona said. “I’ve already lost the game, and we’ve barely begun.”
“Did you happen to see which way Mercy went? Or Rand?” Deirdre asked. Oona shook her head.
“No. Rand gave me the tip about hiding behind the bushes, though,” Oona answered. “He may have given Mercy some pointers on a good hiding place too.”
“Is that right, now?” Deirdre mused. “Why don’t you help me find them, Oona? It will be much quicker with the two of us looking.”
Oona crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head. “That would be cheating. ’Tis up to you to find them.”
“I have a feeling it’s not going to be as easy to find them as it was for me to find you.”
“I’ll admit that Rand knows the lay of the land well, but Mercy won’t. She should be easy to find.”
Deirdre shook her head. “I’m quite sure that where we find one—we’ll find the other.”
Understanding dawned on Oona’s face. She lowered her voice and looked around. “What are you saying? That they purposefully snuck off to be together?”
Deirdre shrugged. “I would.”
Oona’s mouth fell open. “Deirdre!”
“Well, not now. But once upon a time—I would definitely have snuck off together.”
Oona pointed. “I’ll go this way—you go that way.”
When Deirdre came upon the tall, thick hedge, she took one look and started to turn back—until she heard soft voices. She stopped and listened and was rewarded by a low chuckle from the other side of the tall wall. Deirdre moved closer to the hedge, and her foot found a dried tree limb that snapped. She froze.
Rand and Mercy both looked toward the sound. Mercy started to say something, but Rand put his finger to his lips and shook his head. Though she didn’t want their private picnic to end, Mercy knew that Deirdre and Oona would be tolerant only for so long.
“She’ll never find us,” Mercy whispered. “We need to give up.”
Rand frowned as if he couldn’t hear her and moved closer. He was so close she could see gold flecks in his eyes before he dropped his gaze to her mouth. She felt the lightest touch of his hand under her chin before he leaned in and covered her lips with his own. She felt herself give in; it was as if her bones had become liquefied—she could barely remain sitting there as the kiss deepened.
“Deirdre! There you are! Did you find them?” Oona’s voice on the other side of the hedge brought Mercy quickly back to reality. She pulled back from Rand and started to say something,
but he put his finger against her just-kissed lips and shook his head with a small smile. “Wait,” he whispered. “They’ll go away.”
“Mercy? Rand? I give up,” Deirdre said loudly through the hedge. “Did you hear me? You win!”
Moments later, they heard the muted sounds of conversation as Deirdre and Oona walked away.
“We need to get back,” Mercy said. “I don’t want them to be mad. The sisters have been so good to me. If I spoil things, they might not let me live with them anymore.”
“At least it would mean the end of chaperones,” Rand said.
“Don’t tease about that, Rand. I’d be homeless without them.”
“I would never let that happen to you.”
Mercy watched his gaze travel to her mouth again, and she blushed. “We need to go.” She started to get to her feet, but he pulled her back down beside him.
“Mercy, it’s time you met my parents,” Rand said.
“No, it isn’t.”
He studied her in the way that made her feel light-headed and filled with anticipation. “Yes. It is. That kiss meant something to me. And I’m quite sure it meant something to you too, didn’t it?”
She hesitated. “It shouldn’t have, but … yes.”
He looked both relieved and victorious at her admission.
“My mother is insisting on meeting the young woman I have been going on and on about,” he said.
She felt a kind of panic seize her. “What have you told them about me?”
“Enough to pique their curiosity,” he said evasively. “Please. Just agree to one small dinner party, and if you never want to see them again after that, so be it.”
“Dinner party?” she asked with alarm.
“Mother, Father, and a few of their close friends get together every few weeks.”
“That sounds worse than dinner with just your parents,” she said bluntly.
He smiled. “It will actually be easier for you. My mother won’t exclude all her other guests by peppering you with personal questions.”
She sighed. “You aren’t going to let this go, are you?”
He shook his head. “You’ll find once I set my mind on something, it’s almost impossible for me to let go.”
Deirdre dropped the unopened picnic hamper into the back of the carriage. “They were on the other side of the hedges, Oona. I heard them!”
“They would have said something if they were,” Oona said. “Mercy wouldn’t keep hiding if she knew we were looking for her.”
“That’s the point of the game!” Deirdre sounded exasperated. “To hide!”
“Do you suppose that Rand and Mercy planned this whole thing?”
“Yes, Oona. That is what I suppose.”
Oona folded her hands. “We need to pray.” She bowed her head. “Heavenly Father, forgive us for failing at the task of keeping watch over our sister Mercy. Please keep her safe from harm—and, Lord, please spare us from Mother Helena’s wrath if we return to the convent alone.”
“Amen,” Deirdre muttered.
“Deirdre! Oona!” Mercy’s voice preceded her appearance into the small clearing where they stood.
Oona hurried toward Mercy when she saw her. “There you are! Are you all right?”
Rand came up right behind her and exchanged a glance with Deirdre. “She’s fine. Just fine.”
“Yes,” Mercy agreed. “I’m fine.”
“What happened to the two of you?” Deirdre asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
Rand cleared his throat. “The truth is …”
“The truth is that Rand was going to show me a good hiding place, but I got distracted when I saw his house in the distance, and I really wanted a look at it—and he took me to a spot where I could see just how lovely it is from way up high, and we forgot about the game …” Mercy’s voice trailed off. “I’m sorry if I worried you. I guess I lost track of time.”
“We both did,” Rand said. “Can you forgive us for ruining the game?”
Oona exhaled. “Of course. There’s nothing to forgive. Isn’t that right, Deirdre?”
Mercy felt the blush creeping up her neck and knew that Deirdre saw it. The young woman was staring hard at her, but then she smiled.
“That’s right, Oona. Nothing at all to forgive.”
Chapter Fourteen
I have had my first kiss. At least the first kiss that I can remember. And the most glorious part of the whole thing is that at any given time, if I want to, I can call up the exact moment when Rand leaned over and kissed me—and relive every second of it. What an amazing thing. This must be how it is for everyone else—think of something pleasant that has happened, and voilà, you can make it happen again by memory.
We didn’t fool Deirdre one little bit at the picnic—she knows. I’m sure of it. Just as I’m sure she won’t outright ask me. Instead, she’ll wait for me to confess and then get me to tell her the details. But the only place I do my confessing is here, dear journal. You can’t judge—you can’t comment. You only take note.
I told Mother Helena about Rand’s insistence that I meet his parents and how much I don’t want to do that—but she was unsympathetic. “Don’t build mountains out of molehills, Mercy,” she told me. “Whatever you imagine might go wrong, most likely won’t.” I’ll never know for sure until I have the courage to go through with it—so I accepted Rand’s invitation.
Deirdre is upset she won’t be joining us for dinner. She didn’t say so—but I can see it on her face and in her eyes when she looks at me. I wonder if she’s thinking again of her potato farmer and dinners with his family.
According to God (and Mother Helena), the children will be arriving soon. We won’t know the exact day or hour, but we are to be ready.
Sister Martha said Mother has a heart for children nearly as big as her heart for God. It makes me wonder again how these women can give their lives away in an act of faith before some of them even had enough time to really live. Does Mother Helena ever mourn the loss of the children she never got to have? Does Oona want to have one more dance with her father on this earth instead of saving all her dances for her Father in heaven? Sister Rebecca can play the piano as if it was the only thing she was born to do—and Sister Gertrude is so skilled with a needle and thread, the other sisters say she could be making clothing fit for a queen. Sister Marie must have been very beautiful as a young woman with many husband prospects, and Sister Rachel has a voice like an angel. Their faith is staggering to me. How I wish I had just an ounce of what they have—but I don’t. I don’t have the same faith in God, and I certainly don’t have faith I can sit at a dinner table with Rand and his parents tomorrow evening without stumbling over my missing past.
Mercy shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny of several nuns. After Mercy turned one way and then the other in her pale-green taffeta dress, Sister Gertrude finally smiled.
“I know it’s boastful,” she said, “but I believe ’tis the finest-looking frock I’ve ever made.”
Oona, Deirdre, Ruth, Rachel, and Marie murmured and nodded in agreement with her.
“It is beautiful, Sister. Thank you so much,” Mercy said sincerely.
“You look just perfect. He’ll be so enamored with you.”
“She’s not worried about Rand, Sister,” Deirdre said. “It’s the parents she’s hoping to win over, isn’t that right, Mercy?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know,” Mercy said with a worried shake of the head. “I just don’t want them to think I’m not fit to shine their son’s shoes.”
“Well, now, if that is their attitude, it’s them who aren’t fit to sit at the same table as you.” Oona sniffed.
“Just mind your manners and see to it that you don’t make any big blunders, and you’ll be fine,” Sister Ruth chimed in.
“If it were me, I’d not be knowin
’ what piece of cutlery to use at a big, fancy table such as the Prescotts might have,” Sister Rachel said.
Mercy’s eyes widened. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
Sister Gertrude threw a sidelong glance at Rachel before turning back to Mercy. “’Tisn’t so hard to know. You use the flatware farthest to the left and just work your way in.”
“But don’t be reaching for your fork until your hostess does,” Oona said.
“And if they serve a piece of fruit, for goodness’ sake don’t just pick it up. You should eat it elegantly,” Sister Marie said.
“Elegantly?”
“Yes. Peel it with your knife and cut it into small pieces,” she answered. “Likewise with bread or rolls. Small, manageable pieces, or you’ll look like a cow chewing its cud.”
“Don’t monopolize the conversation,” Oona said. “A lady always listens more than she speaks.”
“When you are introduced to the guests, never offer your hand to a man,” Sister Marie said. “Just bow politely and say, ‘I am happy to make your acquaintance.’”
Deirdre puffed out a breath. “I say be yourself, Mercy. Rand is smitten with you as you are—he isn’t looking for some stiff-mannered woman who doesn’t have a thing to say.”
“I’d be sick with worry if I were you,” Sister Rachel said, eliciting another glare from Sister Gertrude. “Aren’t you just the tiniest bit nervous?”
“I’m shaking in my borrowed shoes,” Mercy said.
“You look calm as the day is long,” Sister Ruth said.
Mercy swallowed. “Say a prayer that I can keep up that charade, will you, Sisters?”
Mother Helena approached the group. “I imagine this little meeting means everyone has finished with her tasks for the day?”
The nuns scattered like leaves on the wind, leaving Mercy alone with the older nun.
“You look lovely,” Mother Helena said.
“Thank you. And thank you for allowing me to go unchaperoned.”
Mother Helena raised a brow. “I’m trusting that Rand’s parents will act as chaperones,” she said, “and I’m also trusting that you won’t give them the slip as easily as you did Oona and Deirdre.”
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