The Matrimony Plan

by Christine Johnson

  Moments before he’d held her close, professing his love, then one careless moment cost him everything. No wonder so many scriptures decried the tongue.

  He clutched the cup of coffee.

  “She’ll need time to heal,” Mariah said, taking a seat at the kitchen table, “and work things out with her parents.”

  “I know.” He blew on the coffee, sending a cloud of steam against his face.

  “Then why so glum?”

  How could he begin to tell her? Yet even clergy needed someone who would listen to the deepest anguish of the soul. Mariah had always been that for him.

  “I lost her.” Every word bled.

  “How?”

  He gulped the strong brew. It scalded his throat. “Have you ever withheld knowledge to spare someone?”

  “Do you mean the bootlegging ring?”

  “It slipped out at the worst possible time. Why couldn’t I leave it alone? Why didn’t I listen to you and leave it in the sheriff’s hands?”

  “Because you can’t bear injustice.”

  “I thought I could expose the crime without hurting Felicity. I thought I knew best.”

  “In other words,” Mariah scolded, “you played God.”

  The best confessor could dredge the most carefully buried sins from a man’s soul. The truth hurt. The truth tore his pride to tiny pieces. He licked his lips, eyes burning. “The worse sin of all—pride. I deserve her rebuke.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  He buried his face in his hands, scourged by the blazing whip of self-realization. All this time he’d cried out against Felicity’s pride, when the most prideful actions of all came from him.

  “I was so concerned with the splinter in other people’s eyes that I didn’t see the plank in my own,” he said miserably. “What a fool I am.”

  “Without God, we all are.”

  His eyes burned. “But how can I mend the damage? H-how do I…?”

  “Get her back?” Mariah looked him square in the eyes. “You apologize.”

  But he’d seen her face, the hurt, the betrayal. “It’s too late.”

  “Perhaps, but you still must ask.” Mariah scraped back her chair. “But not tonight. Pray, get some sleep and you’ll think more clearly in the morning.” She paused, staring at something outside the kitchen window. “Are you expecting someone?”

  Gabriel rose as she opened the door.

  “Would you care for coffee, Sheriff?” She offered to take the man’s hat and raincoat.

  “No, thank you, ma’am.” Though Gabriel pulled out a chair, the sheriff declined that, too. “I need to get back to the jail. Thought you’d want to know that we caught them.”

  Gabriel should have rejoiced. This was what he’d wanted all along, what he’d preached against and strived to correct. It’s why he’d been called to Pearlman. At least that’s what he used to think.

  “Who was involved?” He held his breath.

  “Mostly out-of-towners.”

  Gabriel recalled Coughlin’s assertion that city folk had torn down his fence. “From where?”

  “Detroit. Rumrunners bring the liquor across the St. Clair River from Canada by boat and then transport it across the state by motorcar, truck, train, plane and small boat. This gang used the Kalamazoo River to move shipments across the southwestern part of the state and even out to Lake Michigan. They sell whiskey along the way in towns like Pearlman. What’s left makes its way to Grand Rapids or Chicago. That’s why we brought DeWalt into the operation.”

  That name. “Is DeWalt Robert Blevins?”

  The sheriff nodded. “He’s a federal Prohibition agent out of Detroit. I’ll tell you, Pastor, for a while, he suspected you.”

  “Me?”

  Mariah burst out laughing. “Oh, what a tangled web.”

  Ilsley didn’t crack a smile. “Perhaps, ma’am. Truth was, Pastor, you happened to arrive at the right time. DeWalt had gotten a tip that the ringleader was going to be in town during the Founder’s Day celebrations. Since you were new, he had his eye on you.”

  Gabriel recalled the night he’d seen Blevins, or rather DeWalt, and Kensington at the root cellar. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I saw him with Branford Kensington at the root cellar.”

  “Mr. Kensington has been a key part of our attempts to break up the bootlegging ring. They were checking to see if any of the liquor had been moved. The broken bottles and tipped-over case threw them for a bit.”

  “Slinky,” Gabriel muttered. “The cellar door must have been left open, and he fell in.”

  The sheriff chuckled. “That’s what Mr. Kensington told us later. Apparently, his daughter played some part in that.”

  “She is skilled with animals,” Gabriel said, but all he could think about was his horrible error. He’d lost Felicity for nothing. All his clues could be explained. The smell of whiskey on Blevins might have been done on purpose, trying to trip him up. So, too, with Kensington’s offer of a drink that turned out to be sarsaparilla. The root cellar, the noises behind the drugstore, Kensington’s visit to the blind pig… everything could be explained.

  “The ringleader? Did you catch anyone?” Gabriel held his breath.

  The sheriff cleared his throat. “We’ve brought in Hermann Grattan. Apparently, he was using the dairy trucks to smuggle liquor all over the area.”

  Mr. Grattan? Gabriel reeled. The man was a bigot, but he’d never suspected Grattan was running liquor.

  Mariah shook Ilsley’s hand. “Thank you, Sheriff. I’m glad to learn the bootlegging has stopped.”

  “For now, but they’ll be back, Ms. Meeks. Until people lose the taste for whiskey, there’ll always be someone willing to risk arrest to supply it.”

  “Then it’s not over,” Gabriel said. Justice had only won a battle, not the war.

  “It’s never over, Pastor, not’til Judgment Day.” The sheriff tipped his hat. “As far as I’m concerned, your job’s the better one. I can only punish’em after they commit the crime. You can stop’em from going astray in the first place. You change what’s inside a man. If crime is ever going to be wiped out, that’s where it has to start.” He opened the door. “G’morning, folks.”

  “Morning?” Gabriel looked out the window. So it was. The sky shimmered dove gray while a rim of orange licked up from the eastern horizon. A new day.

  God had given him a second chance. This time he’d follow where God led, not his own stubborn path. Thy will not my will.

  Lord willing, he could reclaim people’s hearts and turn them to good. He could truly minister to the congregation. Felicity was right about creating a home for orphaned children. Two boys needed such a home right now. They’d need to find the right house and fix it up, but he could involve the community, starting with Einer Coughlin. Maybe if the man had something positive to work toward, his anger would melt away. It would take time, but it could be done.

  He grabbed his hat.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Mariah asked.

  “I need to see Felicity.”

  Mariah pressed her back against the door and wagged her finger at him. “Not at this hour, you aren’t. Whatever you have to say to Felicity can wait.” A bold knock startled Mariah from her perch. “Who now?”

  She opened the door, and Gabriel saw a weary Branford Kensington on the stoop.

  He handed Mariah an envelope. “Tell your brother a special meeting of the church council has been called for two o’clock this afternoon.” He tipped his hat and left.

  “Gabe?” Mariah turned to him with wide eyes.

  Gabriel didn’t need to open the envelope to know why he’d been called before the council. With Sophie Grattan and Eugenia Kensington leading the way, he had no doubt.

  He was going to be fired.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Luke.

  Felicity awoke with a start. What had happened to Luke? Though Gabriel had assured her Coughlin wouldn’t get the boy, Luke could still be sent back to the orphan
age.

  She couldn’t let that happen.

  Sunlight streamed through her bedroom window. The clock read nearly one-thirty…in the afternoon. She flew out of bed and donned the first dress she found, a dull old cotton frock. She added work shoes, a quick swipe of the hairbrush, and she was ready. She clattered down the staircase and ran to Mother’s sitting room.

  She wasn’t there.

  She tried Daddy’s study. Maybe she could convince him to adopt Luke or at least give the boy a temporary place to stay. Why not? They had plenty of room. She pushed open the door and peered inside—empty.

  Where was everyone? The house was deathly still. Even the cook seemed to be away. At last she found Smithson watering the lilies in front of the house.

  “They left for a meeting,” he informed her with a sniff, “at the church.”

  What horrible timing. Probably a Ladies’ Aid Society meeting. Felicity had stopped paying attention to those the moment they’d postponed the stained glass window project.

  She ducked back inside to grab a hat. The afternoon train left at three-thirty. That gave her less than two hours to find Luke a home and even less time to find Daddy. He probably went to the bank or the mercantile after dropping off Mother. Without checking her hair, she plopped the hat on her head and flew outside.

  “If Daddy returns, tell him I’m looking for him,” she told Smithson. Then she added, “Please.”

  The butler raised his eyebrows but didn’t comment on her uncharacteristic politeness.

  “I’ll be in town,” she added.

  Ms. Priss strolled up and stroked against her legs. She instinctively bent to give her neck a scratch and noticed the little darling looked far more plump than normal.

  “Ms. Priss, are you going to have kittens?”

  The cat meowed and arched her back for more petting.

  “You’d make a good mother.”

  Of course. Luke needed a home with children and a loving mother, someone like Beatrice. She’d ask Blake. At this time of day, he’d be at the airfield. Blake would listen. He might balk at first, but she could convince him.

  She raced down the hill and reached town by the time the clock at city hall struck two. Pearlman bustled with activity. Mrs. Evans drove by and honked her horn. Felicity waved. Cordelia Butterfield passed on the other side of the street with little Grace at her side.

  “Thank you so much, Felicity,” Cordelia called out. “You’ve made me the happiest woman on earth. May God bless you.”

  “And you, too.” Felicity couldn’t help but be cheered by everyone’s warmth. She fairly skipped past the park, which was filled with families and children. A group of boys played baseball, and their ball rolled in front of her feet.

  “Sorry, Ms. Kensington,” young Freddie Highbottom said as he tracked it down.

  Ms. Kensington. To the children, nothing had changed. She tossed the ball to the boy. “That’s quite all right, Freddie.”

  At the corner of Elm and Main, Mrs. Simmons hailed her. Though Felicity was anxious to reach Blake before the train left, she couldn’t refuse Mrs. Simmons.

  The widow clutched a threadbare cloth handbag, and Felicity recalled her shelf full of unused bags. She’d make a point of sending a couple to Mrs. Simmons.

  “What can I do for you?” Felicity asked politely.

  “Do tell your mother I’ll be late to the society meeting tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow? But if the society is meeting tomorrow, then what’s the meeting today?”

  Mrs. Simmons shook her head. “I don’t know, but Felicity, I must tell you.” She looked ready to burst with excitement. “Pastor Gabriel said I could take Peter for now.”

  “He did?” Felicity regretted her harsh words about the Simmonses. No one would love Peter more. “What wonderful news. Peter will be very happy at your home.”

  “Oh, thank you, Felicity. He and my Hendrick are getting on famously. He already wants to be a motor mechanic.” She chuckled. “And Anna, well, if she wasn’t older than young Peter, they’d be quite a pair.” She leaned close to whisper. “I think he’s taken a bit of a liking to her.”

  Felicity couldn’t help smiling at the thought of fourteen-year-old Peter pining after seventeen-year-old Anna, who would have nothing to do with him. Anna wouldn’t settle for a boy when she loved a man. “She’s a wonderful girl, but I think she has someone else in mind.”

  Mrs. Simmons clucked her tongue. “Aye, but there’s no spark between those two.” Her eyes twinkled. “I think the pastor’s set his cap elsewhere.”

  Despite last night’s betrayal, Felicity’s pulse raced at Mrs. Simmons’s words. She shook her head. “I’m afraid that’s beyond hope.”

  Mrs. Simmons touched Felicity’s arm. “There’s always hope. When two are meant to be together, nothing can keep them apart.” She blinked back tears, and Felicity realized she must have been thinking of her husband.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. As Mrs. Simmons wiped her eyes, Felicity understood the power of those two words. They could bridge vast chasms and heal years of pain. Perhaps they could even mend the break between Gabriel and her. All he had to do was apologize.

  “Enjoy every moment you have,” Mrs. Simmons urged. “You never know how long you’ll have together.”

  The knot of pain in Felicity’s chest tightened. What if Gabriel never reconciled with her? What if she never saw him again? What if he got ill or died in an accident? Felicity’s birth parents hadn’t lived to see her grow up. Ecclesiastes said that everything has its season. What if their season together was over? Gabriel had a lot of pride. He’d never apologize first. That left her. Like with Mother, she alone could heal the breach.

  After she saved Luke. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Simmons. I need to go.” She looked toward Baker’s Field. With luck, she could reach Blake with plenty of time to spare.

  “I’m so sorry, dear, keeping you here when you have important business.” Mrs. Simmons gave her arm a squeeze. “And when you find him, don’t let him go.”

  “I—I don’t know what you mean.” But she did know. Gabriel. Find Gabriel. But it wasn’t that simple. Too many questions lay unanswered between them. She couldn’t let him into her heart until she knew he regretted accusing her father.

  It was much easier to concentrate on Luke. First, she had to find Blake. Baker’s Field was a good half mile away, but she could save precious minutes by cutting behind the parsonage and then through Coughlin’s land. Coughlin. His name brought dull, metallic fear. Coughlin had threatened her last time, and after being denied an orphan, he’d be even more irate, but Luke’s well-being outweighed that fear. She headed into the park.

  The sky was that creamy blue of midsummer, when the light filtered through the trees and buzzed off the grass. Crickets hummed and couples strolled lazily in the shade. The white of the parsonage fence peeked between the rustling trees, making her wish for happier times like the day she rescued Slinky and Gabriel in turn rescued her. She’d saddled him with a dog that day, and he’d accepted the stray into his home.

  Would he accept Luke? She halted, shocked by the thought. Gabriel would be the perfect father, but he wasn’t married. The Orphaned Children’s Society would never allow an unmarried man to adopt. What if he married? Heat flushed her face. She was mad to even think such a thing. She squeezed her eyes shut, and when she opened them, she saw Mariah in the yard hanging the wash.

  “Felicity?” Mariah called out. “How are you faring?”

  She didn’t have time for pleasantries when Luke would soon be put on the train. On the other hand, Mariah might know what had happened to the boy. She hurried into the yard. “Where is Luke?”

  Mariah didn’t note the urgency in Felicity’s question. “After I finish hanging the wash, I’ll show you.”

  “Then he’s not at the train station?” Felicity took the end of the sheet that Mariah handed her and attempted to pin it to the clothesline. It slid free, and she caught it just before it touched the grou
nd.

  “Double-over the fabric,” Mariah instructed.

  This time the pin held. “You didn’t answer me. Is Luke going back on the train? He’s not with Mr. Coughlin, is he? Gabriel promised he wouldn’t send him there.”

  “That was never a possibility,” Mariah said calmly, affixing the last clothespin.

  At that instant, the back door of the parsonage swung open, and Slinky burst out with a loud bark, followed by none other than Luke.

  “He’s here?” Felicity watched the boy in amazement.

  Mariah nodded and then called out to Luke, “Play quietly, or you’ll rile up Slinky.”

  Luke laughed as he threw a stick as far as he could, and Slinky took off after it.

  Mariah heaved a sigh. “I’m afraid playing quietly is impossible for eight-year-old boys.”

  “Then he’s not going to be sent back on the train.”

  Mariah smiled as she watched the boy. “He’s not. Gabriel took him in, just until a proper home is found, but he couldn’t bear to send Luke back to the asylum.” She shook her head. “How I lectured him on that one, but Luke is already a blessing. He’s going to be a challenge, too.” She sighed. “He clings to Gabriel as if he’s afraid he’ll disappear. That’s probably why he hasn’t spoken yet.”

  “He doesn’t speak?” Felicity had no idea.

  “Only to Slinky.”

  Felicity’s heart ached for the boy. She knew what it felt like to be unwanted. “Gabriel will love him.”

  Mariah nodded. “He has a tough road ahead, though. Luke’s father abandoned him at the asylum last December. I understand he promised Luke he’d return once he made his fortune. Poor Luke waited every day at the front window for his father to return. Of course he never did. I don’t know if Luke will ever trust again.”

  Felicity blinked back tears. How could anyone leave that beautiful dark-haired little boy? By the grace of God, he’d found Gabriel, whose heart was wider than the ocean and deep enough to take in so many hurts—even hers. The way he’d avoided her gaze and refused to speak to her hadn’t been because he was giving a child to Coughlin. He was trying to protect her, and there was only one possible reason why.