He set his fork down.
“One day when she was out hoeing in the fields, a big black snake slithered past her and she began to scream her head off. And at the nearby farm, a boy heard her cries and came running. His name was Peter, and he was the nicest boy she’d ever met.”
“Peter Welling, of course.”
Mrs. Bishop pointed to his food. “Eat, before it gets cold.”
Ben reached for a piece of bread and slathered butter on it.
“Soon Peter and his family, the Wellings, invited the little girl to visit. She began to attend church with them weekly. And the years went by so quickly. Oh, so fast. And she was sure that Peter would ask her to marry him. And that his family would welcome her with open arms.”
“But?”
“Ada was just a charity case to them. And when his mother saw what was happening, what was growing between Peter and her, she sent the girl off to secretarial school in Battle Creek.”
“What about Peter? What did he think about this?”
The foghorn sounded again, this time longer. Both he and Ada turned to look out the window. From where they sat, the bicyclists and carriages in the street were no longer visible, blanketed by a thick coat of fog.
“Well, I’d say you could get yourself an in-depth, exclusive interview, Mr. Steffan, since we’ll need to be staying the night on the mainland.”
He hated to use the paper’s money for a hotel. He remembered what the music hall owner had offered this afternoon—free room and board if he played for their dinner crowd for an hour or two.
“I own the Mackinaw Breeze Inn.” Ada’s voice was nonchalant.
“The new one by the water?” Ben took a sip of his coffee.
“One of the many reasons I came up here.” She chuckled. “I feel sure they’d give us two rooms. Might even have my suite available if no one has rented it for the evening. If so, I’ll invite you to finish this interview in my parlor there.”
“Are you sure? Do you really want to do this?” Apprehension still gripped him, as though God was shaking His head at what Adelaide Bishop was about to do.
“I don’t want you to make some of the same mistakes I’ve made. It might be too late for me, but not for you and Maude.”
“Do you think she’d forgive me?” Maude had said she would.
Ada leaned in and covered one of his hands with hers. “You really don’t know about that debacle with that controlling grandmother of hers, do you? About the will and the codicil and poor Peter.”
“I do know Mr. Welling didn’t inherit what he believed was his and his wife’s life work. And her relations implied that Maude was the wealthiest young woman on the island. But there were some stipulations on her inheritance.”
“The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.”
Had he not heard it from her lips, Ben would never have thought Adelaide Bishop was speaking. He had to know more about her. What was the truth? What had made her who she was?
She straightened. “I imagine all that Peter worked for will go to you and Maude once you marry. And later half of that to Jack.”
He still couldn’t believe Maude stood to inherit. “It doesn’t seem fair, does it? That Mr. Welling is left with none of the estate.”
“Ah, sometimes God has to put us in a place where He can mold us and ready us for something new. And sometimes He puts friends around us to help us, doesn’t He?”
“Yes, I suppose He does.” Like the Welling family and now this woman.
“I know He does.”
“Yes.” Ben could see God’s hand in this. Yet he didn’t know what he’d do with Mrs. Bishop’s story. This article could take him to the New York newspapers if he sold it.
“Well, shall we? I’ve got a lot to tell you, and we’ll need to find you a typewriter if you’re to work on my story tonight.”
“Good thing I’ve had my coffee, then.”
“I’ll have room service bring us up more, have no fears.”
Ben looked for the waitress and felt in his pocket for his wallet, but Adelaide gently touched his arm. “She’s been paid, tipped, and is in the back enjoying her own dinner.”
“Ah. Well, thank you.”
“No, thank you. Listening to Peter talk with Dr. DuBlanc earlier, I wondered if I’d benefit from unloading my own history by sharing with someone. And God brought you along.”
“But don’t you fear what will happen if your true story is published?”
“You haven’t even heard the half of it yet.”
Three husbands, wealthiest woman in America, eccentric extraordinaire. No, all he’d heard was the story of a brokenhearted girl who’d been rejected and lost the one she loved.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
A sharp rap on the door awoke Ben at five o’clock Sunday morning, as he’d asked. He had a promise to keep on the island. “Who’s there?”
“Breakfast, sir.”
He’d slept in his undershorts, but Adelaide had procured a silk robe for him. He rose from the ornate brass bed and wrapped the garment around himself. He crossed to the door and accepted the tray from the maid. Turning, he sought a place to set the tray so he might clear the typewriter and his article from the small table near the window. The room was spacious, with high ceilings, and furnished with sumptuous brocade bedding and drapes. It seemed out of place in the somewhat backwoods town. But Adelaide had assured him that guests en route to the Grand Hotel who were stranded in town very much appreciated finding the comforts of her inn.
He set the machine on his bed and gently laid the sheets of typed paper beside it.
Oh, Lord. This is wrong.
He couldn’t do it. If he sent in this story, Adelaide’s privacy, her very life could be threatened. If people knew who exactly she was, she’d be hounded for loans. She’d be targeted by criminals. What on earth was she thinking? What was he thinking by continuing her interview after he’d realized the implications? Why had he bothered typing the story?
Pride. Greed. And a few other sinful motivations. Nothing driven by a fear of God nor a desire to do His will. This story would have given him the scoop of a lifetime. At the expense of a woman whom he’d now come to respect greatly. All the stories about her life—so many falsehoods, she’d laughed them off.
“God knows,” she’d said.
No position, no amount of money could replace what she would lose if he submitted this article to Banyon.
Ben removed the cover from the breakfast plate. A stack of pancakes had the image of a smile on them, made from berries.
A tiny note, tucked under the plate, read, “Do whatever you believe is right, Ben—Affectionately, Adelaide.”
Her words were almost identical to those Maude had spoken to him. Was this some kind of test from God? If so, would he pass it?
He knew what was right, pleasing, and a good thing in God’s sight. Before he went back to the island, he had some letters to drop off. And if he hit the ferry just right, he’d be crossing the street to the church just in time to accept Reverend McWithey’s offer—and to play for the morning service.
Maude sat on the front porch swing, her legs tucked up under her, one of her mother’s quilts wrapped around her shoulders. The fog had finally lifted, and ferries again crossed the straits. Ben had left. And he’d not even said good-bye. Sadie told her his room was empty and another guest had checked in. Not—even—said—good-bye. How could he? Tears ran down her cheeks.
The door opened and her father stepped through, carrying a coffee tray. He set it down on the wicker table beside the swing.
“Guess what, Maude?” He looked healthier than she’d seen him in a long time.
Maybe he was gloating because he’d run Ben off the island. “What?”
“You’ll be happy to learn that your old man’s not dying of heart failure.”
“No? You saw the specialist?”
“Yes, yesterday, but not the kind you think.” He arched a brow at he
r.
Her spirits sank. “So you didn’t see the heart doctor?”
“Don’t have to.”
“Why not?”
“Because Dr. Cardona, a trained psychiatrist, confirmed what Dr. DuBlanc already suspected—stress has caused these heart palpitations.”
“Is he certain?”
“Yes, he’s checked me thoroughly and conducted a psychiatric exam. I’m not crazy, but I am what he called ‘a walking bottle of anxiety,’ and he’s got some treatment plans for me.”
“Which includes what, Father?”
“Hopefully, life on the farm very soon.”
“Oh.” She wasn’t ready to live on a farm. And with no marital prospects, she wasn’t sure what would become of her.
“Robert wants to talk with you tonight over dinner at the Canary.” Father picked at some imaginary lint on his gray trousers.
“Are you going?”
“Perhaps. If Ada gets back from the mainland. I don’t know what is keeping her so long.”
At least Father would see his friend. Would she ever lay eyes on Ben Steffan again?
After preparing quickly for church and rounding up Jack and Father and getting them into the carriage, Maude directed their driver to carry them on to church. When they arrived, she swiftly departed to her Sunday school class, breathing easier when she realized that none of her students had yet arrived. She organized her materials, set up her flannel storyboard, and set out the cookies that always kept the boys happy during long discussions. But by the end of the hour, she’d learned that even cookies weren’t sufficient to keep her students from asking where the “man teacher” was. She’d only missed one Sunday! The little ingrates wanted Ben back. But so did she.
Maude exhaled loudly as the last child departed, leaving her with Jack.
“Ain’t your fault that you ain’t him, sis.” Jack patted her back, and she resisted the urge to swat at him.
Father knocked on the door frame of the square whitewashed room. “Ready, children?”
Jack ran to him and wrapped his arms around their father. “I’m so glad you’re just an old worrywart and not got some bad heart problem.”
“Me, too, son. Me, too.” Father kissed the top of Jack’s unruly hair. “You’re getting a haircut tomorrow!”
Maude grinned. “You’re sounding more like your old self.”
The trio entered the narthex. Maude retrieved a bulletin from the side table. The date, June 30, startled her, and she felt her cheeks flush. This was to have been the day after her wedding to her old friend Greyson. A man so desperate to provide for his mother that he’d snared a wealthy girl as insurance. Yet that apparent ploy had failed him. Dear God, help them—they and their child are going to need it.
Odd that the one man she most wanted to share her feelings of pain with was Friedrich—no, his name was Ben. The name was solid. Strong. It suited him. But he was gone. And she’d never felt more alone in all her life. Regardless of what he pretended to be, she’d seen the caring, intelligent, kind, and talented man that Ben was. She’d never met anyone like him who made her feel both excited yet grounded at the same time.
“Good morning.” Greyson’s mother, assisted by both Greyson and Anna and using two canes, wobbled a smile at them.
“Wonderful to see you here, Mrs. Luce.” Father nodded to her.
Jack chewed on his lip before averting his gaze. “Hey, do you see?” He tugged on Maude’s arm.
She bent. “Shhh, not now, Jack.”
Father fixed him with a penetrating gaze. “Say good morning to Mrs. Luce and Greyson and his wife.”
“Mornin’.” Jack scrunched his nose.
Mrs. Luce smiled. “Same old Jack. Come ’round and see an old lady once in a while, will you? I miss seeing you.”
“Sure thing.” Jack shifted back and forth in his brown lace-up shoes. “You still got those bowls full of butterscotch candies?”
“Jack Welling.” Maude’s reprimand was covered by the woman’s laugh.
“Mother?” Greyson directed her toward an empty back pew, and Anna followed.
As they entered the sanctuary, Maude spied a tall, slightly shaggy-haired man with the hint of a beard, attired in a rustic brown tweed jacket and tan pants, sitting at the piano.
Jack elbowed her. “Tried to tell ya.”
Maude pressed a hand to her chest as unbidden tears sprang to her eyes. Father squeezed her hand.
He leaned in. “Looks like he hasn’t left, my dear. In fact, he looks quite at home.”
When they arrived at their pew, Robert occupied it. Father sighed but in the end slid next to him.
Maude tried to focus on the hymns and really sing, but she couldn’t help watching, as did the rest of the church, as Ben Steffan brought the music to life.
When Pastor McWithey took the podium, he grinned from ear to ear. “I have wonderful news.”
A hush came over the parishioners. Was he going to say Ben was staying on permanently? Maude held her breath in anticipation as Jack wriggled beside her.
“We just received word this morning that an organ has been purchased for the parish.”
A titter began two rows in back of them. The pastor cleared his throat. “It has been donated by someone who wishes to remain anonymous.”
Had Robert done so? He could certainly afford it, even with having lost two ships of his fleet. A few gasps preceded the congregation clapping. The reverend raised his hands. “We’re all very grateful, and I’ll be composing a letter to our donor, offering our thanks.”
Jack began swinging his feet, and Maude placed a gloved hand on his knee. “Stop, please.”
He looked up at her with his puppy dog eyes and leaned against her shoulder. From where he sat, Ben winked at her, and she winked back.
Dare she hope things could be mended?
But after the service was over, she couldn’t find Ben anywhere.
“Coffee downstairs?” Robert cocked an eyebrow at them, and she, Father, and Jack followed her uncle down to the fellowship hall.
But Ben wasn’t there, either.
“What’s troubling you, Maude?” Robert brought her coffee, prepared just as she liked it.
“I seem to have lost Ben.”
“We’ll just have to pray you find him again.”
But the afternoon passed with no word. Nothing from Ben as to where he was. And she had a dinner to get ready for.
Chapter Thirty
Gretchen assisted Maude with her hair and dinner gown.
When Maude descended the stairway into the lobby, Jack gave her an assessing look. “You doll up real good, sis.”
“Thank you, Jack.” She pretended to tweak his nose. “You look like a little gentleman in your monkey suit.”
“Hey! I ain’t no monkey.” He swatted her hand away.
Later, as their family carriage rode up the hill and then past the Grand Hotel, Maude pressed a gloved hand over the jewels at her neckline. Inside that building this Sunday evening, servants toiled.
Father nudged her. “Do you miss working there?”
“I miss the friends I made.”
He tucked her arm inside his. “I’m proud of you for doing something you believed in.”
The straits glistened as the sun began its descent. Ahead, the Canary welcomed them, bedecked with lanterns, lit and beckoning them to cross the manicured lawn to the grand home.
The front door opened as the three of them descended from the carriage. Grandmother’s elderly footman stood there, and for a moment, Maude half-expected Grandmother and Mother to appear there, as well.
“Thought he retired.” Jack brushed at the front of his jacket, which bore suspicious residue resembling sugar cookie crumbs. As he ran past them, the evidence fell from his pocket onto the grass—a half-eaten sugar cookie whose enormous size marked it as one from Jo’s Bakery in St. Ignace.
“Come along.” Father tugged at his lapels.
The manservant took their light evening coa
ts and hung them on nearby decorative brass knobs. He bowed slightly toward Father, and Maude, and then directed his bleary gaze toward Jack. “The young Duvall ladies have requested your presence upstairs for a game of hide-and-seek.”
Jack was off like a shot. How many times had Maude played the same game with a giggling Sadie and a guffawing Robert, who’d always managed to find them, usually hiding in a closet?
Sadie entered from the parlor, dressed in an apricot dinner ensemble that brought out her peaches-and-cream complexion. White elbow-length gloves covered her work-worn hands. “Welcome to dinner. Robert should be here in a minute.”
Maude kissed her friend’s cheeks. “You look lovely.”
Sadie ushered Maude and her father into the front parlor, where the heavy black Eastlake furniture had been polished to perfection. How odd it seemed to have her old friend waiting on them here instead of Grandmother’s maid. But Matilda, even more bent with age, if that was possible, soon entered the room, carrying an engraved silver tray piled high with crudités and small bowls of salad dressing.
High-pitched girls’ giggles carried down the stairs, followed by a racket of footfalls. One by one, the Duvall sisters entered the room, each bobbing a curtsy to Maude and her father. Matilda rolled her eyes then departed, huffing as the girls swiped vegetables from the tray as she passed.
“Miss Maude, Mr. Welling, it’s so good to be here in the house, working again. With all these folks here, it’s like life has returned to this beautiful home.” All the folks? Were Sadie and her sisters living here?
Lighter footsteps trod down the stairs and Robert appeared in the doorway, dapper in his navy pin-striped suit and yellow-and-blue cravat. “Welcome. So glad you could come.”
When she saw the look of adoration he gave Sadie, Maude’s stomach sank to her pinched toes, which were shoved inside a pair of satin pumps. She wasn’t ready for her best friend and her uncle to be sweethearts.
“Come to the music room. We have a special treat for you tonight.”
“Girls! Jack!” Sadie yelled up the stairway.
The footman’s eyes widened, but he said nothing.
Maude exchanged a glance with her father. From the set of his jaw, he was likely having the same thoughts she was.
My Heart Belongs on Mackinac Island Page 26