The preposterous man tried to wrap his arms around her again, but this time she threw them off.
“Stop it. If you don’t, I’ll scream, and trust me, Gabriel will come running.” She backed away, fists up like a boxer preparing to spar.
“Darling.”
“I’m not your darling, your chickadee or any other endearment. I am Felicity Kensington, and I have no intention of marrying you.”
Instead of showing distress, the man grinned.
At any other time she would have asked why, but this was too important. “I’m sorry if I led you to think otherwise, but my feelings belong to another. I could not marry you if you were the last man in Pearlman. I’m sorry, but that’s the truth.”
He wiped his mouth, setting one mustache tip off-kilter. “It’s goodbye then.”
She nodded, and he left without protest. The door slipped silently closed, and she stood for long minutes in the dim vestibule. How strangely Robert had acted, as if he’d never cared for her at all. She knit her brow, trying to figure it out, but such peculiar behavior defied explanation.
In time, her thoughts returned to duty. Behind the sanctuary doors, Gabriel and Daddy waited for her. After the pain of the last few minutes, they would understand if she excused herself from the meeting, but the children needed her—if she could stand up to Robert, she could speak her mind to Daddy and Gabriel.
She pushed one of the doors halfway open and peered inside. The two men worked closely, their heads almost touching. Daddy was speaking, too low to hear. Whatever he’d asked, Gabriel nodded agreement.
Daddy leaned back with a sigh and extended a hand. “Thank you for seeing this little matter my way.”
Gabriel reluctantly shook. “I can’t say I completely agree.”
Felicity watched in horror. What if Daddy had convinced Gabriel to give Coughlin a child? She couldn’t think of any other part of the process that Gabriel objected to. That had to be it. No wonder they wanted to meet without her.
“I can count on you,” Daddy said, “and that’s all that matters. Come on up to the big house for dinner, son.”
Gabriel shook his head grimly. “I have other plans.”
Felicity slowly released the door so it didn’t make a sound. She had to do something to stop this injustice, but what? Everyone was working behind her back—even the two men she loved most. Her legs shook as she left the church. Daddy could be hardheaded, but she’d trusted Gabriel. She thought he cared about the children. She thought he understood.
Oh, how wrong she’d been about everyone. She wiped away an angry tear. It was such a foolish plan—find a husband. What good would that do when they only wanted to control things? Marriage was no better than being subjected to Mother’s scheming.
If she wanted to save those children, she’d have to do it herself. She didn’t quite know how, but God always provided a way.
She’d better find it before ten o’clock tomorrow morning.
Hours of prayer didn’t help. Felicity sat on her bed and searched the Bible for direction. How? Lord, show me. Never before had she relied so much on God, yet she was just as lost.
Her mind kept wandering back to Gabriel. Why would he agree to send an orphan to Mr. Coughlin? It went against everything she thought he stood for. He’d protected the children. He’d rejected the application. He upheld the rules. He wasn’t the type of man who would then send innocent children into danger. Yet she’d heard him agree to Daddy’s proposal, and Daddy had talked of nothing else but approving Mr. Coughlin’s application.
How wrong she’d been about everyone, but especially Gabriel. She’d kissed him. She’d wanted to make a life with him. Tears burned her eyes. What a fool she’d been.
Now she was the only person who could save the children, and she had no idea how. Frustrated, she set the Bible on her bedside table. A breeze from the open window ruffled the pages. She started to close the book when a passage from John struck her: “In my Father’s house are many mansions.”
Many mansions. Many homes. Many rooms. That was it. That was the answer she needed. Invigorated, she jumped to her feet and raced down the stairs.
“Felicity? Where are you going?” Mother asked as she rushed by. “It’ll be dusk soon. If you’re meeting Robert, he should come to the house.”
Felicity hadn’t quite told her about Robert yet.
“I’ll be back before dark,” she said as she burst through the door. This couldn’t wait. This had to be done now, even if it meant facing Gabriel.
Darkness set in late this time of year. As Felicity hurried down the hill, the sun was just dipping below the treetops, infusing the elms and maples with fiery diamonds of late-day light. Trees cast long shadows across streets and roofs, making the town look sleepy. If she had her way, Pearlman would bustle with new excitement.
She breathed in the humid summer air, ripe with scents of grass and flowers. Gnats gathered in clouds the way they always did in the evening. A month ago, she would have swatted and complained. Today, she strode right through them. What were a few gnats when God had set a purpose in her heart?
A few motorcars chugged back from the Grange Hall. There was Mr. Devlin’s old Model T, its doors rusty. There went Lyle Reimer on his daily journey to Lily’s, the town’s only restaurant. Pearlman wasn’t New York City, but it was home.
At the parsonage, she hesitated. The motorcar wasn’t there. What if Mariah was gone? A light shone in the front window. She needed to broach her idea to her friend, not Gabriel. If he were the only one home, she’d lose nerve.
For the children.
She hovered on the porch, torn between fear and duty. What if Gabriel answered her knock? She chided herself. If God had sent her, He would find a way. She must simply act.
She knocked. A steady woofing announced that Slinky was home. A minute later, Mariah opened the door.
“Felicity, dear. What brings you here?” Mariah wore a dressing gown, and her hair was damp as if she’d just bathed.
“I’m sorry. I’ve interrupted you.”
“Not at all.” Mariah held open the door. “Come in. I hope you don’t mind a little mess. I gave Slinky a bath and ended up taking one myself.”
Felicity laughed nervously as she slipped indoors. “Slinky has a way of making everyone take part in his baths.”
“I heard about that first one.” Mariah led her into the kitchen, where Slinky sat with head cocked and white eyebrows lifted, as if to dispute what they’d said about him. “Gabriel loves to tell that story.”
“He does?” That warm, wild sensation returned with surprising force. Despite everything that had happened, the way she felt for him didn’t die.
Mariah smiled. “But you aren’t here to talk about bathing Slinky. Tea?” She poured a cup from the kettle on the stove. “It’s cooled a little but still delicious.”
Felicity gratefully took the cup. Holding it gave her something to steady her shaking hands. “Your brother isn’t here?”
“He took the children around town in the car. He wanted to point out the various landmarks, like the school and the churches and the mercantile, so they’d feel more comfortable in their new hometown. He should be back in a half hour or so. Would you like to wait?”
Felicity gathered her courage. “Actually, I wanted to speak to you.”
“Me?” Mariah dropped into a chair, and Felicity took the one beside her. “You sound serious.”
Felicity peered into her cup, not sure how to say this. “Something’s been bothering me, but I didn’t know what to do until tonight. I found the answer in John’s gospel.”
Mariah took a sip of her tea and set the cup on the table. “What answer is that?”
Even Felicity’s fingertips tingled with excitement. The idea had come to her in a flash, but it was brilliant, the solution to everything. “The parsonage would be perfect.” Hot blood pounded to her brain, muddling her thoughts.
Mariah wrinkled her brow. “For what?”
She wasn’t explaining it very well. “Let me try again. I couldn’t help wondering what would happen if one or more of the children aren’t chosen tomorrow or if worthy applicants can’t be found.”
Mariah sat back, legs crossed at the ankle. “They’d return to the asylum in Detroit.”
“But think of the disappointment. To be so close to getting a real home, and to have to go back, why it’s worse than not coming here at all. Wouldn’t it be better if every one of them gets a home?”
“Yes, but you can’t force people to take on a child.”
“And what if an orphan is given to the wrong family?” Felicity was treading on delicate ground now. She couldn’t very well tell Mariah that her brother had agreed to give an orphan to Mr. Coughlin.
“If there are problems, heaven forbid, the child would be removed from the home. What are you trying to tell me? Is one of the children in danger? You are on the Selection Committee. If there’s a problem, you need to speak to Gabriel.”
That’s the one thing she couldn’t do. “There’s not a problem yet,” she admitted, “but there could be.”
Mariah sighed. “I know this is difficult, but there’s no sense borrowing trouble. Our Lord will see this through, as will the good people of Pearlman.”
“Yes, but if there is a problem, maybe there’s a better solution than sending them back to the asylum.”
“I’m not following you.”
“Don’t you see? We could create a home for them, a sort of boarding school. All we’d need is a big enough house, a place with lots of bedrooms. Like in John’s gospel, where Jesus said his Father’s house has many rooms. Why not us?”
“Do you mean here?” Mariah’s face dropped. “You want Gabriel and me to take in children?”
“No, no.” Felicity rose and paced the room. “That’s not it at all. I mean the house itself. It’s so large, with lots of bedrooms. It’s much too big for a parsonage, but it would make the perfect foster home and school. The children would have a place to call home. Don’t you see how perfect it would be?”
Mariah hesitated. “And who would run this?”
That was the difficult part. “I would.”
“By yourself? You have no experience with children or teaching.”
Felicity’s hands shook. “I—I hoped maybe you’d take charge at first, and I would help.”
“The way you help with Slinky?” In one sentence, the masculine baritone shredded Felicity’s excitement.
“Gabriel,” she gasped, emotions bouncing like fireflies in a jar. “Let me explain.”
“No.” He set his hat on the table, and she saw the worry lines creasing his forehead. “Everything is settled, Ms. Kensington. There is no need for a boarding school.”
Ms. Kensington? The last flicker of hope sputtered out. “Then they’ll all be taken?” She couldn’t bring herself to ask who would get Luke.
“If the applicants agree.” He poured himself a cup of tea.
“W-Who?” She steeled herself for the answer.
His look accused her of abandoning her duty. “The best applicants.”
He wasn’t going to tell her. The only reason to hide the outcome was if he’d agreed to give a child to Coughlin. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t.
“But what if some still go unclaimed?” she said, frantically trying to think of some way to talk him out of this. “What if the child objects to the match? They do have that right, don’t they?”
“Felicity,” Mariah warned softly. “It’s late.”
“Yes, go home to your fiancé,” Gabriel snapped.
With a gasp, Felicity realized that’s why he was being so cold. He thought she was engaged to Robert.
“There is no fiancé.”
For the briefest moment, his eyes met hers. She saw hope there, but then it faded. “Please excuse me. I’m tired, and there’s a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”
“But—”
He left the room before she could finish her sentence. He’d dismissed her. Though she looked to Mariah for support, she knew her friend could do nothing to sway Gabriel.
It was over. Just like that. Not only had she failed the children, but somehow she’d lost Gabriel, too.
The ache that had begun when Gabriel saw Felicity and Blevins together in his office accelerated with every passing minute. All parties involved had neatly planned that marriage. For a second after she refuted it, he had hope, but then he remembered Kensington’s revelation.
Blevins or no Blevins, a life with Felicity would soon be impossible. He’d protested Kensington’s plan to send Peter to the Grattans, but then the man told him why he wanted the match. To protect Felicity, Gabriel turned his back on what was right, telling himself that Peter would be all right with the bigoted Hermann Grattan. It would only be for two or three years, and the Grattans had no prejudice against Peter, just Luke. But Felicity wouldn’t see it that way. She’d blame him—and rightfully so.
“What happened, Gabe?” Mariah’s voice carried a cartload of concern.
Gabriel could not discuss what Kensington had told him about Felicity, even with his sister. “Nothing.”
“Nothing? Even I can see something’s wrong.”
He tried to brush off the question with a wave of the hand. “I need to go to bed. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.”
“Bed is not what you need, Gabriel John. Let not the sun go down upon your wrath.”
“I’m not angry,” Gabriel bristled, “and I don’t need scripture quoted to me.”
“Apparently you do. Granted Felicity’s idea wasn’t thought through, but it came from a loving heart. She cares deeply what happens to those children.”
“I know.” He did know, and that was the problem. What her father told him that evening changed everything.
“She seemed to object to a decision that was made without her. Is that true?”
“I had to,” Gabriel growled. “Don’t ask me to explain because I can’t without betraying a confidence.” As much as he wanted to tell Mariah, he couldn’t. Only two people could divulge this secret, and neither had seen fit to do so in twenty-some years.
“Oh, Gabe, is something wrong? Is she ill?”
How easy it would be to agree, but he could not mislead her. “No, she’s not ill. It’s nothing terrible.” If a secret that shattered lives wasn’t terrible.
“I see.” Mariah took the teacup from his hands. “Then why do you look like death?”
Because he’d agreed to do something that grated against his conscience. Because he could see no way out. Because he’d broken a sacred trust for the sake of a woman.
He lifted weary eyes. “Please don’t ask.”
She looked at him long and hard. “Do you still love her?”
“Yes,” he whispered. And that was the problem.
Chapter Fifteen
By nine-thirty the next morning, the church had filled to capacity. An expectant hum followed Felicity as she made her way toward the committee table, still planted in front of the altar. Everyone watched her, some hopeful and others wary.
“Ms. Kensington.” Mrs. Simmons’s quiet plea broke Felicity’s step. “I know you can’t divulge the results, but I want you to know that I’ve been praying for the best foster parents for each child.”
“Me, too,” Felicity whispered, feeling a rush of affection for the woman she’d wrongly disdained in the past.
Mrs. Simmons patted her hand. “Then I know it will go well.”
Felicity wasn’t quite so certain. Gabriel and her father had made other plans, terrible plans. She blinked back tears as she climbed to the table.
Daddy stopped her before she sat down. “Felicity, you don’t look well. Perhaps you should go home.”
“No, Daddy. I need to do my duty, all of it.” She stressed the last three words, but of course he didn’t understand what she meant.
“That’s my little soldier.” He settled her in her chair and then proceeded to direct people who didn�
�t require directing.
A sea of faces spread out before Felicity. From eager applicants to the nervous children, seated along the wall to the left, all looked to her. The oldest boy, Peter, joked with Matthew, but whenever he looked her way, his brow creased.
Gabriel looked older and worn, as if the last ounce of energy had been drained from him. He spoke briefly with each of the children, lingering longer before Luke. The boy never raised his eyes, and Felicity couldn’t tell if he understood what Gabriel was telling him.
She quickly turned away when Gabriel took his seat at the other end of the table. The three feet between Gabriel and her might have been a huge chasm. He didn’t look at her, and she couldn’t bear to look at him.
“People,” Daddy yelled.
The crowd gradually quieted after a lot of shushing and admonitions about not talking in church.
Daddy tugged his waistcoat down. “We’ve reviewed all the applications. Thank you for stepping forward to help out these children. We received twenty-eight applications. That means a good many of you are going to be disappointed. That being said, let’s get the suspense over with.”
He motioned to the female agent, who led little Grace to stand between the altar rails. In this enormous moment of Grace’s young life, she stuck her thumb back in her mouth and no amount of tugging by the agent could dislodge it.
“For this little girl—” Daddy cleared his throat and squinted at sheet of paper in his hand “—we’ve selected Hugh and Cordelia Butterfield.”
Cordelia burst into tears. “Praise God. Oh, thank you, thank you.”
Her husband helped her forward, and as Cordelia dropped to her knees before little Grace, the man’s lips trembled, and he wiped away a tear. Felicity drew in her breath. She’d been wrong about him. Though solemn and stoic, he cared deeply.
The little girl wrapped her arms around Cordelia, and the woman hugged her tightly, taking into her heart the gift God had sent to replace her dead child. Many a woman, Felicity included, dabbed at her eyes. Gabriel and Daddy had chosen wisely.
The Matrimony Plan Page 18