Unexpected Love

by Andrea Boeshaar

  “How about a picnic today, Wendell?” Mum asked as she adjusted her skirts.

  “I think it’s a fine idea.” Da flicked the reins, and the carriage jolted forward.

  Renna sat quietly in the backseat and casually watched as they rolled by the shops, closed on Sunday, of course, and homes, built just a few feet from one another. When they reached the Illinois Street Church, she glanced around at the poverty-stricken area, and her heart swelled with gratitude for what she did have—and it was far more than just a roof over her head, food on the table, and clothes on her back. Pastor Moody had often spoken of charity, and he’d chosen this impoverished area in which to preach because of the great need here in the city. Mum often worked in the soup kitchen where she and other volunteers prepared meals for the hungry and penniless.

  Da parked the carriage and climbed down. Next he helped Mum while Renna made her way to the ground. With the horse hitched to the post, they headed for the set of brick steps leading to the doorway. Da pulled one of the massive doors open and allowed Mum and Renna to enter first. Inside the dimly lit foyer the air felt cool on Renna’s face.

  The service began with song, followed by a guest speaker. About three quarters of the way through the sermon, Renna gave up trying to concentrate and begged her heavenly Father for forgiveness. The thought of picnicking with her pirate continually flashed through her mind. She both dreaded the idea and looked forward to it.

  Oh, Lord, I must be overtired . . .

  Once the service ended, Renna and her folks greeted several friends before riding home in the carriage. After shedding their reticules, gloves, and bonnets, Renna and Mum got right to work preparing a delicious picnic basket. Today’s menu included zucchini bread, whipped butter, cold pork sandwiches cut into tiny squares, sliced tomatoes, and chocolate cake, which Mum had made for the dinner party yesterday that had thankfully been rescheduled.

  Next, it was on to the hospital.

  “Mr. Blackeyes?” Renna spoke softly, fearing she’d awaken him if he slept. It was hard to tell with the bandages around his head, covering his eyes.

  He sat up straighter in his bed. “Nurse Fields?” He cocked his head, listening.

  “Yes, it’s me.” She approached his bedside. “My parents are here too, and we wondered if you feel up to coming out with us for a picnic. Dr. Hamilton gave his consent.”

  “A picnic? I’d love to go. Anything to get me out of this hospital!”

  “But are you feeling up to it?”

  “I should say I am!”

  Renna had her doubts. Mr. Blackeyes still looked pale, and she knew of his weakened state. However, he seemed more desperate than anything, so she sent her father an approving nod. “Will you help him dress?”

  “Yes, of course.” Da smiled. “Mr. Blackeyes, I brought along a suit for you since the clothing you wore when they brought you here was discarded due to disrepair. But these garments are well-tailored threads—my son-in-law’s spares—and I think they’ll make for a decent fit.”

  “I’m grateful. Thank you.”

  Renna and her mother stood outside the sick ward and waited while Mr. Blackeyes dressed. Finally, he appeared, his arm looped through Da’s. He looked peaked, but he seemed steady on his feet. The borrowed clothes, however, didn’t do the man justice. The pants were too big at the waist and too short at the hems. The crisp white shirt stretched tightly over Mr. Blackeyes’s broad shoulders.

  I shouldn’t even notice such things. Renna pulled her gaze away.

  They walked out to the carriage.

  “I can feel the sun on my face.” Mr. Blackeyes lifted his face to the sky.

  “It’s a beautiful day,” Renna said. “Bright and fair with the smell of fall in the air.”

  “How poetic, Nurse Fields.”

  She smiled at his teasing. “For this outing you may call me Renna.”

  He inclined his head in reply before Da helped him into the carriage.

  Renna noted his silence as they rode to the park. Once Da parked the carriage and they climbed down, Renna became concerned.

  “Are you feeling all right?” She touched his forearm.

  “I’m quite all right, I assure you.” Mr. Blackeyes inhaled deeply. “The air is so fresh and clear. I feel like I can breathe again. I was beginning to suffocate in that sick room.”

  “Nonsense.” Renna slipped her gloved hand around Mr. Blackeyes’s elbow so she could steer him to their picnic spot. Mum led the way. “The window was open, so there was little chance of suffocation.”

  “An open window is not the same as the fresh air outside in the sunshine. It feels so good on my face. Thank you—thank you all for rescuing me today.”

  Da chuckled while carrying the picnic basket. “You’re welcome, but I wouldn’t say we exactly rescued you, Mr. Blackeyes.”

  “And I say you are!” He snorted in disgust. “Nurse Hatchet is on duty again today, and—”

  “Now, now, let’s not speak badly of Nurse Hatchet—I mean, Thatcher.” Renna stomped her foot. “Now you’ve got me calling her Hatchet. You’re incorrigible, Mr. Blackeyes.”

  Everyone laughed as Mum selected a grassy section of the park. She spread out the picnic blanket beneath a leafy elm tree. Ten feet away the lawn gave way to a steep cliff. Beneath it Lake Michigan’s rocky shoreline stretched out for miles.

  “I know this sound well. Hear it?” Mr. Blackeyes tilted his head from side to side and listened intently. “The sound of the waves coming ashore.”

  “That’s it.” A curious frown puckered Da’s brow.

  “Ah, yes, Lake Michigan. The very smell of her . . . ” He inhaled deeply. “Like the scent of a familiar woman.”

  Mum cleared her throat uncomfortably. “I believe that smell belongs to the dead fish,” she quipped, “so don’t blame the lake or any of us women for that matter.”

  Mr. Blackeyes chuckled and Da grinned. Renna sent her mother an embarrassed smile.

  Mum began to unpack their lunch. Renna assisted Mr. Blackeyes and then sat down. Once the food had been laid out, Renna made a plate for their guest. He gobbled the pork sandwiches and delighted in eating slices of zucchini bread. Renna exchanged amused grins with Mum.

  “And chocolate cake . . . mmm . . . delicious.” Mr. Blackeyes dabbed the corners of his mouth with the checkered napkin. “My compliments, Mrs. Fields.”

  Mum looked pleased.

  After about an hour of lunching, Da stood and stretched. “I’m as stiff as a plank.”

  Mr. Blackeyes grinned.

  “Should we go for a short stroll?” Mum asked. “Walk out the kinks, so to speak?” She stood as well.

  “Are you suggesting that I’m growing too old for picnics, madam?”

  “Oh, now, Wendell, you know I’d never suggest such a thing.” She winked at Renna.

  Da muttered something about being outnumbered then offered his arm.

  Watching as her parents amble off, Renna smiled. “Even after thirty-two years of marriage,” she told Mr. Blackeyes, “my mother and father still love each other very much.”

  “Yes, so I’ve sensed. Quite remarkable too, since I have always imagined that kind of love and dedication only occurring in storybooks.”

  Renna shifted uncomfortably, glad that Mr. Blackeyes couldn’t see through his bandaged eyes. She didn’t want to discuss the topic of love with him.

  “At first I had hoped Louisa and I would have a strong love relationship, but after our marriage, it was soon apparent that she wanted a socialite’s existence. She tolerated my affection, but in general the wife and mother roles were quite boring and often a nuisance for Louisa.”

  Renna picked a blade of grass, thinking he ought to be talking to Da about such things. Yet his honesty impressed her, and his mysterious past intrigued her.

  “Even so, I had tried to give my children what I thought they needed by providing governesses. Those employed women, however, never lasted very long.”

  “Why is that?” She
couldn’t help asking.

  “I wasn’t ever sure, until Sarah told me.” Mr. Blackeyes chuckled.

  “Told you what?”

  “About my sons’ shenanigans. After a few grass snakes in their beds, the governesses packed their bags and left.”

  “Hmm, your boys sound like mischief makers.” Renna shook her head, recalling her brother’s pranks in his younger days.

  Mr. Blackeyes still grinned broadly. “Yes, I suppose they are.” He turned silent for a few minutes. “Sarah was the only one who could put up with them, and they loved her for it.”

  “Sarah? You’ve mentioned her before.” Renna arched a brow. “Another wife?”

  “No, no,” Mr. Blackeyes said with a wider smile. “Another governess.”

  “You remember!”

  “Yes, I remember . . . ”

  He grew pensive, so Renna prompted him. “Sarah was a governess who stayed on?”

  “Yes. I hired her for the summer, but I don’t know which summer it was. This one, perhaps.” He paused. “She fell in love with Richard. It was so obvious too. Even my mother commented on it.”

  “Richard, your bookkeeper?”

  “Yes. Except Sarah couldn’t make up her mind about him, even though Richard loved her right back. You see, Sarah enjoyed living in my large and, if I do say so myself, impressive home. She romanticized about the kind of lifestyle I led. She saw me rubbing elbows with the elite. She saw the parties, the dinners, the dancing—or at least she thought she did.”

  Renna nearly groaned aloud. So what she had suspected was true. Mr. Blackeyes was a man among the high-society echelons. “And Richard?”

  “Richard wanted to farm.”

  Renna frowned. “But I thought he was a bookkeeper.”

  “He was . . . or is . . . I’m not sure. However, his ambition was to take over his father’s farm. To work outdoors.” Mr. Blackeyes chuckled. “He readily volunteered for any and every errand that involved leaving my store—”

  “A store! You remember!” Renna sat up on her haunches.

  Surprise shone on his face. “I own a store, yes.”

  Mum and Da came strolling back to the picnic site, and Renna stood.

  “Mr. Blackeyes has just remembered that he owns a store. Isn’t that wonderful?”

  “I should say it is.” Da eyed the man a little closer now. “What kind of a store did you own?”

  Mr. Blackeyes’s lips pressed together as he thought hard. “I don’t know,” he said at last. “I wish I remembered more.”

  “It’ll come,” Mum assured him. “It’s coming already.”

  A man approached them. Da looked up and grinned. “Matthew! Matthew Benchley! What are you doing here?”

  Renna stiffened and pushed to her feet. So she would have to meet Mr. Benchley after all.

  “I was taking an afternoon stroll, and I spotted you here.” He smiled at Mum. “This must be your beautiful wife.”

  “Yes.” Da turned to her. “Johanna, dear, this is my newest associate, Matthew Benchley.”

  Mum dipped her head demurely. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Benchley.”

  His eyes slid to Renna, and she saw him assess her birthmark. A look of pity entered his gaze before it hardened like steel.

  “And this is my daughter, Renna.”

  “Ah, yes, you’ve spoken of Renna to me before.” Benchley reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “A pleasure.”

  Renna pulled free. She found it difficult to manage a smile. What was it about this man that gave her a sense of dislike?

  But more importantly, why did Da think so favorably about him?

  Curiosity alone caused Renna to peer boldly into Matthew Benchley’s face. Icy gray eyes set into chiseled features stared back at her, reminding her of Lake Michigan during the winter months.

  Despite the warm temperatures, a little chill passed through her.

  “And this is the man I told you about,” Da said. “We know him only as Mr. Blackeyes. He’s recovering from a boating accident.”

  Mr. Blackeyes got to his feet.

  Benchley stuck out his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

  Renna frowned, confused. Didn’t Benchley see the obvious?

  “Likewise, I’m sure.” Mr. Blackeyes reached out in the direction of Benchley’s voice, but it was Benchley who made the contact.

  “Injury to your eyes, I take it?”

  Renna resisted the urge to cluck her tongue at the insipid question.

  “Yes.” Mr. Blackeyes fingered his bandages.

  An uncomfortable silence ensued, and Renna found herself wishing Matthew Benchley would continue on with his stroll. He had a disquieting presence, although it differed from the unnerving effect Mr. Blackeyes had on her. Renna had to admit, however, that Matthew Benchley was a handsome man in his own right. Little wonder Abigail Hoffmann found him so charming.

  “Would you care to join us, Matt?” Da asked, much to Renna’s dismay.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  Everyone took a place on the picnic blanket. Benchley sat down beside Renna, so she moved closer to Mr. Blackeyes. It was either that or rub elbows with Benchley. Oddly, Renna much preferred her pirate to the likes of this newcomer.

  “Our friend here,” Da began with a nod toward Mr. Blackeyes, “was just remembering that he has a store.”

  “Is that so?” Benchley appeared interested. “And what is the name of your store?”

  “I . . . I don’t know. At least not yet.”

  “Mr. Blackeyes has amnesia as well as being blind,” Mum informed him. “Both infirmities were incurred in that tragic boating accident Wendell just mentioned.”

  “What a shame.” The tone of Benchley’s drawl made Renna wonder over his sincerity.

  “Yes, but his memory is returning, little by little,” Mum added. “Soon our Mr. Blackeyes here will remember everything, I’m sure.”

  “You’re a very fortunate man, Mr.—Mr. Blackeyes.” Benchley glanced at Renna, and suddenly she felt like a cold, bitter wind had just blown off the lake.

  She shivered.

  EIGHT

  Back in the hospital, the darkness, the stony darkness, seemed to oppress him more than ever. Renna and her family had been like a soothing sun shower—like the one he’d felt on his face this afternoon in the park. It had been something of a holiday for him—at least until Matthew Benchley appeared. After that he sensed the atmosphere change.

  Renna didn’t like Benchley one bit. He could tell by her actions and the tone of her voice. Had it taken a sightless man to figure that much out? Her parents hadn’t seemed to notice. But perhaps they had and he just didn’t realize it.

  His mind wandered back on the outing. Shortly after the man had joined their picnic, Renna moved away from Benchley and closer to him. He had felt her tense on more than one occasion, and a sudden urge to protect her rose up within him. That urge surprised him. From what he could recall, he’d never felt that way before. And what a helpless feeling to be blind and desire to protect a woman. Ridiculous, actually.

  Benchley. He rolled the name around his mind some more. It sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

  His fingers curled until he’d made tightly balled fists. Why, God? Why can’t I remember who I am? Is my blindness a punishment for things I’ve done in my past? You’ve allowed me to remember what a rake I’ve been . . .

  Something Wendell Fields said flitted across his mind. “Trials aren’t meant to harm us but to make us more Christlike.”

  Could it really be that God wanted to do some sort of miracle with his infirmities and in his life? Or had he been correct presuming they were retribution for living a godless existence all these years?

  God, please . . . let me in on what You’re planning to do in my life.

  A deafening silence replied. For now answers eluded him.

  Making himself as comfortable as possible on this sorry excuse for a bed, he willed himself to fall asleep.

  ••• />
  Another gorgeous day. Renna sighed happily as she walked to work. A warm breeze blew her skirts around her ankles, and leaves dusted the sides of the street. In a month treetops would turn shades of orange and yellow and a flaming red. Standing on a hill in front of the hospital now, Renna turned and looked toward Lake Michigan. Ships dotted the horizon. She thought of her pirate. Hopefully their outing yesterday hadn’t been too much for him.

  Entering the hospital, she found herself carried on a wave of business. In her ward, she fed those patients who weren’t able to eat, changed bedding, and shaved men’s beards.

  Mr. Blackeyes was one of them.

  “Are we alone, Renna?” He whispered the question.

  “We’re as alone as we can be in a room filled with sick people.”

  He grinned. “They’re all unconscious, I hope.”

  Renna smiled, knowing he teased her. “Only three unconscious patients today. Two are asleep, and one is waiting for a bath.”

  “I just don’t want to be overheard.”

  “Speak softly then.”

  “All right. Tell me about Matthew Benchley.”

  Renna looked at the water basin in her lap. “I don’t know much.”

  “Then tell me what you know. I’m curious.”

  “He’s a new associate at the Chamber of Commerce and works with my father. He’s been there for about a month now.”

  “What does he look like?”

  “He’s got light brown hair and . . . ”

  Renna recalled his iceberg eyes and wondered if she should disclose her thoughts. No. Best to remain objective.

  “He’s got blue-gray eyes and a very straight nose.” She continued with her shaving. “Fairly even teeth, though he doesn’t smile much. When he does, it’s rather lopsided.” Cynical, is what she wanted to say, but she held her tongue. “And he reminds me of those men from the West—opportunity seekers. I met plenty of them during the war.”

  “Opportunity seekers, huh?” Mr. Blackeyes grinned.

  “Hold still.”

  He kept talking anyway. “Do you mean to say that Matthew Benchley appears to be the sort who would take advantage of an unsuspecting young lady in order to seize an opportunity?”