My Heart Belongs in Castle Gate, Utah

by Dicken, Angie;

  Her mind was made up, and her heart would be satisfied with the decision, too.

  James hopped out of the carriage and held open the door. “Good afternoon.” He seemed excited and bursting with news.

  “What is it, James?” She gave a coy smile as he helped her into the carriage. He hurried around, whipped open the opposite door, and scooted close to her.

  “Oh, Leanna, you will be beautiful.” He reached down and produced a large round hatbox from the carriage floor. “I bought you a hat, and you will adore it!” He slipped off the lid and retrieved the most magnificent hat imaginable. A rich violet brim trimmed with a satin edge and topped with a gorgeous arrangement of silk flowers and wispy feathers.

  “Oh, James. I told you not to—”

  “Please, Leanna. You’ve weighed your choices long enough. Now accept the hat and come with me to Boston.”

  “That’s quite an offer.”

  “Really. I am falling madly in love with you more and more each day.” A strand of his perfect hair fell across his forehead, and his cheekbones were bright with color. She believed him. The man appeared to be a lovesick fool.

  Leanna bit her lip then admired the hat once more, skimming her fingers over the delicate trimmings and gorgeous contour.

  James placed the hat and the box tenderly on the floor of the carriage then pulled her hands to his chest. “I can give you whatever you’d like, Leanna,” he whispered, brushing his lips along her forehead. “But you will make me a better man. Please, come back to Boston.”

  This was where she was meant to be. Her life detoured for a reason—she learned much about faith and life’s hardships. But now, she could return and continue the good work near her home, with a man who loved her and would provide for her—and perhaps, join her in the progressive cause. How much they could do together. “Very well, James Alcott,” she said, annoyed that her throat ached. “I’ll come home with you.” She laughed at his bobbling eyes searching hers in disbelief.

  His brow lifted, and he laughed a hearty, triumphant laugh. “Wonderful!” He gathered her in his arms. “I am so happy. Your family will be ecstatic.”

  “I hope so.” She also hoped to feel relief in this moment of finality, but she only felt a headache spreading behind her eyes.

  The carriage moved forward and its rocking was nothing compared to the swaying of her emotions. She tried to push Alex out of her thoughts, but what small joy she felt with her decision was only trampled by her grief in leaving him behind.

  James held her hand, squeezing it occasionally, and observing the city as they trotted along. “What will you do first when we arrive home? I am ready to give you everything you can imagine.” He kissed her gloved knuckles.

  “I suppose I will look for a position at a school. It would serve me best to get settled with the children as soon as the spring semester begins.” She thought about January in Boston. It was even worse than Utah.

  “Ah, yes, but if your father agrees, I hope to marry soon. No need to get too settled.”

  She squeezed the bridge of her nose, the ache was radiating. “Why not?”

  “You will be a wife, of course. Mine, at that. There is no need for you to work.”

  “But I want to, James,” she said quickly, ignoring the pain. Her choice to leave with him was of heart and mind, just like Bethany said. And education was closely knit to both. “Even if it’s not needed.”

  He sneered. “Who does that? Really, Leanna, you have forgotten all that life in Boston holds. Perhaps you can join a league or something.” The charm and handsome physique fell away. “Volunteer when you have the time.” His grip on her hand was weak, his hand—limp. Leanna could hardly look at him. For the first time since Jack died, she felt an old longing for her husband—the man who at least encouraged her dreams.

  “Well, then.” She sniffled, and pulled her hand away with the excuse of finding her handkerchief. “You have made my choices very clear, James.”

  At least one of them.

  Leanna threw back the covers and wrapped her blanket around her shoulders. She was quick to light a fire and avoid the streams of frigid air entering through the cracks around the door and windows. She poured water into the pot on her stove then slumped into her chair. The flames grew and flickered like the uneasiness in her stomach.

  Lord, how could I be led astray so easily?

  Why did she even consider returning to Boston? Of course she would be expected to conform once more. And deep down, she’d known that to be so. But the comfort, the luxury, the distance from Jack’s final resting place had tempted her to compromise her character.

  She may have failed Jack miserably as a wife, and he may have died believing he was a poor excuse for a husband, but she was still Leanna Willingham McKee, the progressive debutante who had walked away from arrogance on the arm of the man who inspired her.

  A strange relief met her the moment she refused James once and for all. All heaviness left her in that carriage ride to the train station. A sudden revival of her self-worth had her sit tall on the silent train ride to Castle Gate.

  Her small home seemed like a refuge from all that had occurred. As she sat in the shifting shadows of this early morning, she could credit her good decision to one man only. And in doing so, something greater was in store, she was sure of it.

  Leanna forced herself to use cold water to wash. After a cup of tea and a small meal, she put on her overcoat, gloves, and hat, and abandoned a cooling stove.

  Most of the snow from the last fall had melted away. Only patches of the white stuff splattered here and there. If she were a child, she would purposefully walk right through the middle of them, even though the path was perfectly clear.

  A meowing came from the Coffeys’ porch, and she thought of Teddy and his fascination with the silly old cat. How those children had brightened her life. James had been quite the distraction, but now, with only two weeks left in December, she longed for their sweet faces. Her heart leaped knowing that she would be choosing a life of purpose over one of luxury.

  Her long walk to the cemetery numbed her toes and her fingertips. It was a mountain winter for sure. The last time she’d walked through the cemetery gate, she recalled noticing Alex paying his respect at quite a distance from the funeral. After all, he was the only miner to see Jack breathe his last breath before the rock tumbled down.

  So much had happened since Jack’s funeral.

  Her breath caught as she considered that, for the most part, many good things had occurred. Mostly due to Alex and his family. She forced herself to calm her racing heart.

  Soon she came upon the simple gravestone that read:

  JOHN HAMISH McKEE

  1886–1910

  Leanna was only a small part of that life of twenty-four years. She knelt down, the cold earth slicing through her skirt and stockings to her bare knees.

  “Jack.” Her voice was hoarse. Her warm breath formed a cloud in the air. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to remember Jack when she first loved him.

  They had strolled through Boston Commons together, when she’d left James Alcott without a dance partner at the most anticipated ball of the season. Jack’s inspiring words had kindled a fire in her spirit, and she dared to believe her worth was not in the wealth of her parents. He had quoted scripture and given her reason to listen in church for the first time in her privileged life.

  They married and made a home in a part of town that her parents would never visit. She tried to embrace it, thankful for the chance to teach at a nearby orphanage. It was a step in her heart’s direction. But when Jack confessed his addiction to gambling after the loss of their money saved for San Francisco, Leanna could not forgive him. For a very long time, she wondered if his noble talk was just a pretense to drag her into his pathetic world.

  Now she knew better. Each moment she remembered was wrapped in both misery and love. The man struggled with his vice, but not once had he struggled in his love. She was the one who wres
tled with a bitter weed. Her hurt was so tightly wound around her heart that she could hardly go a second without firing hateful words to her husband from the same mouth that begged God to help her. She was as much of a hypocrite as Jack.

  The gravestone’s chill pierced through her glove to her palm. “Forgive me, Jack. Wherever you are, forgive me. Yesterday, I took your advice, ‘To thine own self be true.’” She smiled at the thought of Shakespeare popping up again. Jack had shared that line with her, and Alex had shared another.

  If the old bard wrote her story, what would he write? A comedy or a tragedy? She hoped for a happy ending. Only God knew that.

  After all that had been stripped away from her, the faith Jack had first awakened remained. “I will be forever grateful to you, dear Jack.” She narrowed her eyes. “Even if you did light my anger on occasion.” She wagged her head and laughed gently.

  Leanna released her bitterness at last. With palms lifted toward the white canopy of clouds above, she spoke through a downpour of tears.

  “I beg Your forgiveness, too. All these months, I’ve clung to my hate. But I know now that I am better because You placed him in my life. Please forgive me, Lord.”

  As she continued toward the gate, her path ahead was unclear, but she felt lighter than before. Freedom had found her this morning. Over these many months, her stubborn Willingham pride would not allow her heart to forgive the man who could be credited for giving her a heart in the first place.

  “There is no darkness but ignorance.” And today was a bright day.

  Her heart lurched as she neared the path to the Greek neighborhood.

  Maria’s dark curls bounced into view. “Meesus McKee!” The little girl ran up to her, flinging her arms around her waist. “I have missed you.”

  “Why are you here alone, Maria? Surely your mother would not approve?” Leanna looked past her with a leap of expectation in her spirit.

  “I am not alone. The others are coming to open the restaurant.” Her big brown eyes filled with tears as she searched Leanna’s face. “Please say you’ve changed your mind. You stay?”

  She bit her lip. “I am afraid not.” She would rather teach Maria than Bethany’s son. Her heart and her mind begged her to reconsider. She’d tossed out Castle Gate in Bethany’s parlor and then once again in that carriage with James.

  Castle Gate was more of a battleground than fresh soil for a new start. In a way, Castle Gate held little more than Boston. “Perhaps I can visit.” She tucked the girl’s hair behind her ear, wiping a tear with her thumb.

  Maria sulked. “I want you to be my thia.”

  “Thia?” The word was vaguely familiar.

  “I want you to marry Alex,” Maria blurted.

  Heat scorched Leanna’s frozen face. Thia Helena was Maria’s aunt. “We mustn’t say such things, dear—”

  “Maria!” A rich bellow belted through the trees along the path.

  Alex appeared. His clean-shaven face was bright beneath a dark cap. When their eyes met, he stole away his gaze and focused on his niece.

  “You do not run ahead, Maria. Your mother will have your neck.” He grabbed her arm and held her to his side, acknowledging Leanna with a quiet, “Good morning.”

  “Good morning.” Last they spoke, she had tried to convince herself, more than him, that Boston may be her only choice. “I am not going to Boston, Alex.”

  “You aren’t?” The tension in his face fell, and he gave her an expectant look.

  Leanna’s heart pounded, tempted to put Castle Gate back in her future. She could give him her full heart now. Her guilt was finally laid to rest.

  “Why are you staying?” he asked.

  “I turned down James’s proposal,” she said. “‘There’s no darkness but ignorance,’ right?” She gave a lopsided smile. “Boston would only push me back.”

  His broad grin warmed every bit of her heart. “You are a strong woman, Leanna McKee.”

  Mr. and Mrs. Pappas joined them from Greek Town. Mrs. Pappas rushed up and kissed Leanna on both cheeks, but Mr. Pappas only nodded then gave his son a sharp look, speaking in Greek.

  “We are in a hurry to open the restaurant,” Alex seemingly translated.

  “Is that all he said?” Leanna smirked, remaining playful and light, even though all her hope deflated with the reality of what was at stake—not only was the town against them, but Alex’s own father was as well.

  She’d lived a life of broken ties in her own family. How could she allow Alex to strain his? Not with this sweet family. They were here for her season of healing. And perhaps that was enough. “Go ahead, Alex. Don’t upset your father by wasting time with me.”

  He narrowed his eyes and shook his head slowly. “Walk with us,” he offered. “You were walking this way, weren’t you?”

  She nodded. Maria grabbed her hand then her yiayia’s, and they began walking down the hill. Alex walked ahead with his father.

  When they got to the porch, she continued toward the path to her house. “Good day,” she spoke to Mrs. Pappas who took her hand, giving it a squeeze. “I’ll be sure to stop by before I leave,” Leanna said to Maria, aware of Alex’s stare.

  “So you are going to Salt Lake instead?” he asked.

  Mr. Pappas spoke impassioned words to Mrs. Pappas, and they went inside.

  “Come in, Meesus McKee.” Maria ran and grabbed her hand. “Yiayia made cookies for Christmas. You try?”

  “No, Maria. I don’t think it would be wise.”

  The little girl sulked and disappeared through the door.

  Alex fiddled with his cap in his hands. “So?”

  “Alex, I think we know what’s best, don’t we?”

  “I wish I didn’t know, but I have to agree, Salt Lake is best.” His face grew dark. His agreement was agonizing.

  “It is good that you understand.” She tried to appear resolute, but all the heaviness that left her yesterday, now threatened to return.

  “In the city, you’ll have nobody to scrutinize you. Here, they will sneer at you just as they do me.” He kicked at the dirt with his toe.

  “I don’t care what they think of me,” she said. “But your father does not approve of us, and you are a good son—”

  “Papa? He has no hold over me, Leanna. I want you to go for your own sake, not mine.”

  “For me?” If she could tell him she would stay if there was a guarantee he’d be safe, his family secure, she would. She wasn’t leaving for herself. “I am leaving for you. Trouble will find you, and your family—”

  “Yes, I know. I don’t worry about trouble. But I don’t want you to live a life condemned by every passerby.” He swiped his hat from his head and twisted it in his hands. “I can’t bear to think that my love would never be enough to bring you happiness.”

  Oh, but it would, it is enough. “There is no need to protect me, Alex—”

  Maria ran outside again. “You come for Christmas!” She whipped her attention to her uncle. “Thios Alex, Yiayia said so.”

  His mouth opened slightly.

  “What did your grandfather say, Maria?” A lump formed in her throat. How could she come between a father and a son and find happiness?

  Maria’s brow furrowed. “Yiayia say not to ask him. Just you come.”

  “Why would she do such a thing?”

  “Because you are family, remember?” Alex said, swiping a curl from her forehead. “They think you are going to Boston, anyway. I am sure Momma just wants to send you off well fed.” He winked.

  “Should I come?” Leanna’s voice was meek.

  “You know what I would want.” Alex rocked on his heels. “Even if it is our last night together.”

  She wanted all that he did, even if it would fade away in dawn’s light.

  The expectations in Castle Gate weighed more than the tall rocky spires outside the town, and the chance to love each other seemed a greater indulgence than all the hats James Alcott could buy.

  Momma bustled through
the crowded tables as she always did. The smell of zimaropita and bowls of butter-milk tempted Alex to join his fellow miners for a hearty meal. But his stomach may as well have been piled with coal as deep as a cart from the mine. He anticipated sharing one last evening with the schoolteacher. How could he say good-bye?

  “Petros Papamichael ordered a bride last week.” Nick’s mouthful of food did not stop him from talking. “He thinks he might be cursed from his dead momma. He is sick as a dog now. Laid up at the boardinghouse.” The group around him began to laugh.

  “Stupid superstitions,” Alex said to himself as he helped clear a table. Everything was a blessing or curse according to these Greeks. And curses helped conjure a reason for most ill predicaments. Even Momma once declared Helena’s illness a curse but did not have an answer for why she deserved it.

  Alex was too practical to believe in curses. He had believed in a God who withdrew His hand and played tricks on His people. He cringed. Lately, he’d not just resorted to prayer, his heart longed for it. He needed the assurance of God’s watch and hand.

  Alex ground his teeth at the question lurking from his time at the base of the Castle Gate formation. In all his effort to work the mines, had he been hiding from God? Every day he worked hard, trying to make up for all he lost. But now that everything he wanted was out of his control again, he didn’t want to hide. He wanted peace. And he only found it when he opened his heart in prayer.

  Nick grabbed Alex’s arm on his way to carry a dish bin to the kitchen. “Alex, tell this stupid-as-a-Turk that finding picture brides is not foolish.”

  “I have to agree with the Turk. If I need a wife, I’ll find one the old-fashioned way.”

  “What Greek women will you two find, then?” Nick and his friends laughed as he put his napkin on his head like a veil.

  “You stop that.” Momma hit the back of Nick’s head. “If your momma saw you—” She waved a threatening hand in the air and narrowed her eyes like a spying fox.

  Alex slipped past his mother into the kitchen. He set the bin on the counter then escaped out back into the quiet of the yard. The oven smoked with the Christmas lamb, filling the evening air with scents of oregano and lemon. Heavy gray clouds snuffed out any sign of stars.