Where the Heart Leads

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  Lord, soften her heart in preparation to receive the truth.

  But first, the campaign. He had to prove his abilities, and quickly, in order to be allowed to write his own article prior to Election Day. Writing the article he planned could very well get him fired from his reporting position before it even got started, but he would face the risk for the sake of truth.

  Knowing time was of the essence, he set aside thoughts of Daphne and focused on Pardue’s notes concerning the efforts to bolster the West Boston Bridge. He’d write a fact-based article that would bring words of praise from Pardue’s lips, or expire trying.

  As Belinda and Summer washed and dried the dinner dishes, Malinda sat with Abby and Gussie and showed them how to add and subtract by using a homemade beaded abacus. Earlier in the day she had used the same device to teach little Lena to count to ten.

  Belinda’s delight in observing the activity was twofold. Mal-inda’s willingness to leave her room and interact with the Ollen-burgers indicated a lifting of her deep depression. And listening to her sister’s soft, patient voice as she directed the little girls let Belinda know her sister possessed kindness.

  Summer stepped away from the dry sink to stack clean dishes on the shelf. On her return, she gave Malinda’s shoulder a squeeze and said, “You would make a wonderful teacher, Malinda.”

  Malinda glanced up. “Oh, I don’t know . . .” Then she tipped her head, her expression pensive. “At one time I considered getting a certificate for teaching, but my beau discouraged it. Then I got sick and . . .” She broke off and lowered her head.

  Belinda’s heart turned over at her sister’s admission. Might Malinda’s bitterness be the result of squashed hopes and dreams? The thought made Belinda all the more determined to keep bitterness from taking root. Her life was far from what she wanted right now—living under a neighbor’s roof rather than caring for her own home, having to accept Thomas’s decision to remain in Boston, taking care of Malinda instead of caring for a husband and children—but if she allowed regret to harden her heart, she might never gain her dreams. Who wanted to be around a bitter, unhappy person?

  Summer’s eyes expressed sympathy, but when she spoke her voice sounded more matter-of-fact than sad. “You could still become a teacher. There is always a need.”

  Malinda shook her head. “No. I wouldn’t have the patience for a roomful of rowdy children.” A slight smile lifted the corners of her lips. “It’s easy here because your girls are so well-behaved.”

  At that moment Gussie, who had leaned over for Abby to whisper in her ear, suddenly lunged and pinched her sister on the arm. Abby screeched a protest and reached to retaliate.

  Summer dove between the pair. “Girls, I’m ashamed of you! Gussie, you know better than to deliberately hurt someone. Why did you pinch Abby?”

  Gussie’s lower lip poked out. “She said Malinda likes her better ’cause she can add higher than me!”

  Belinda’s cheeks twitched. How did Summer manage to remain stern in the face of such amusing naughtiness? And who would imagine children squabbling over who Malinda liked best?

  “That’s not an excuse, Gussie.” Summer put her hands on her hips. “You must apologize to your sister.”

  Gussie hunched her shoulders, reminding Belinda of a turtle trying to shrink into its shell. “I’m sorry.”

  Belinda wouldn’t have called the child’s words a heartfelt apology, but Summer apparently decided it would do. She turned to Abby. “And, Abby, you need to apologize, too.” Abby gawked openmouthed at her mother. “I didn’t pinch!”

  “No, but you did provoke your sister with an unnecessary, untrue comment.”

  Abby turned to Malinda. “You do like me best, don’t you, Malinda?”

  “I . . . I . . .” Malinda looked helplessly from Summer to Belinda.

  Belinda came to her rescue. “Malinda loves you all the same, Abby. It wouldn’t be fair to love someone more based on what they can do, now would it? That would mean Malinda loves your mother more than you because your mama knows how to cook and sew and iron and—”

  “But I’m too little for all of that!” Abby protested. Plump tears formed in the corners of her eyes.

  Belinda melted. She moved behind Abby, wrapped her arms around the little girl, and rested her cheek against Abby’s tousled blond curls. “Of course you are. And that’s why we don’t base love for each other on achievement. We love you just because you’re you, the same way we love Gussie for just being Gussie and Lena for just being Lena. Right, Malinda?”

  Malinda nodded slowly, her face serious.

  Gussie scooted out of her chair and raced around the table to Malinda’s side. Throwing her arms around Malinda’s neck, she said, “And we love you just for being you, Malinda, even if you don’t smile very much.”

  Belinda gasped and reached mutely for Summer. How would Malinda react to Gussie’s innocent yet bold statement? The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for Malinda’s response. And when it came, it brought an air of relieved celebration.

  Still within the circle of Gussie’s thin arms, Malinda burst into laughter. She wrapped her arms around the little girl and scooped her into her lap. Rocking the child back and forth, she continued to laugh against Gussie’s hair.

  Belinda couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard her sister laugh. For a few startled moments, she and Summer stared at each other, and then in unison they joined Malinda in hoots of amusement. Abby and Gussie added their giggles, and even Peter came from the parlor to investigate. Although no one could stop laughing long enough to explain the reason behind their outburst, he threw back his head and laughed, too.

  But then, as suddenly as it had begun, Malinda’s laughter transitioned to wracking sobs. Gussie pulled away, her little forehead lined in confusion. Malinda covered her face with her hands, but tears slipped between her fingers.

  Gussie slipped from Malinda’s lap as Summer knelt beside the chair and put her arm across Malinda’s heaving shoulders. “Malinda, dear, what is it? What’s wrong?”

  A moan came from behind Malinda’s hands. Her distress frightened the little girls, and they cowered at their father’s side. He herded them into the parlor, giving Summer, Belinda, and Malinda privacy.

  Belinda sat in the chair next to her sister and pried Malinda’s hands down. “Malinda, please tell us what’s wrong. Why are you crying?”

  Malinda gaped at Belinda, her tear-filled eyes wide. “D-do you . . . love me, Belinda?”

  Belinda stared back. How could Malinda question for even one moment that Belinda loved her? Hadn’t she cared for her, worked to provide for her, given up her own wants and desires to make sure Malinda’s needs were met?

  Then she realized she had never told her sister how she felt. . . .

  “Oh, Malinda . . .” Belinda reached out and drew her sister’s head to her shoulder. Growing up, how often had she wished Mama or Papa would tell her she was loved by them? More times than she could accurately recall. The Bible advised to treat others as you wanted to be treated. She would no longer withhold the words from her sister. Stroking Malinda’s hair, Belinda whispered, “You’re my sister. I love you, Malinda. Very much.”

  A shudder shook Malinda’s frame, but she didn’t pull away. For long moments they sat, the younger cradling the older, with two hearts beating in rhythm. At long last Malinda sat up. She lifted her skirt to mop the tears from her cheeks, and then she cupped Belinda’s face between her hands.

  “I love you, too, Belinda.” She pressed her palms to the table and struggled to her feet. Then, with short, hesitant steps, she made her way out of the kitchen and around the corner. The soft thud of her feet against the stair treads let Belinda know she headed to the bedroom. When the click of a door signaled Malinda’s return to her room, Belinda looked at Summer.

  The amazement in the older woman’s eyes surely mirrored Belinda’s. Summer took Belinda’s hand. “I believe we need to offer a prayer of thanks. We’ve just witnessed a
wonderful breakthrough.”

  Belinda willingly bowed her head and poured out her gratitude for the time of sweet bonding with her sister. When she headed to her small room, she felt certain things would be different with Malinda from now on—better, sweeter.

  But in the morning, when Belinda went upstairs to get Lena from her crib and wake Malinda for breakfast, Malinda’s bed was empty. Her sister was gone. Again.

  28

  IKNOW WHERE SHE IS.” Belinda slipped her arms into a knitted sweater and headed for the back door. “If I can borrow Daisy again, I’ll go get her.” Peter stepped forward, his hand outstretched. “Better to go in the wagon. Wait—I will take you.”

  Belinda considered his offer. Malinda was her responsibility, and Peter would have to miss most of a morning’s work to transport her to the little house the men of Gaeddert had built for Summer a decade ago. Yet she saw the sense of his suggestion—both she and Malinda on Daisy the last time she had retrieved her sister had made for an uncomfortable ride. Giving a nod of agreement, she said, “Thank you.”

  She and Peter rode without speaking. Her eyes remained on the rumps of the plodding oxen, but Peter seemed fascinated by the raucous geese making their journey across the cloudless sky. She was relieved that Peter found contentment in silence. Conversation would have been difficult.

  Why, after their time of bonding last evening, had Malinda run away again? If someone needed escape, surely that person was Belinda. Her life had been one upheaval after another since Papa’s death. Yet, despite being cared for and assured that she was loved, Malinda had chosen to run off. Varying emotions tumbled through Belinda—anger, frustration, bewilderment, sympathy. When she found Malinda, she would insist her sister explain herself.

  Though Malinda was the older of the pair, her behavior indicated a complete lack of maturity and responsibility. Regardless of the awkwardness of taking her older sister to task, Belinda wouldn’t mince words when they were face-to-face. She had enough concerns without Malinda adding unnecessary worries to the list.

  Peter called to the oxen, guiding them to make the turn into the lane leading to Summer’s empty house. As she had expected, Malinda was there, sitting on the steps of the wraparound porch, watching the lane as if she expected someone. When the wagon rumbled close, she pushed to her feet and stood, unsmiling, one hand raised to shield her eyes from the bright morning sun. On the ground at the base of the steps sat the little chest Belinda had seen in their attic.

  Belinda touched Peter’s sleeve. “Will you give me some time alone with my sister, please?”

  He nodded solemnly and intoned, “Whoa,” bringing the oxen to a halt.

  Belinda leaped over the side of the wagon and raced to Malinda. Despite her intention to berate her sister, she found herself instead enveloping Malinda in a hug. Malinda’s arms wrapped tightly around Belinda, and she pressed her cool cheek to Belinda’s hair.

  “I’m sorry if I worried you,” Malinda said, her voice tired and raspy, “but I knew you would come. I needed you to come.”

  Belinda pulled back. She brushed Malinda’s straggly hair away from her face. “Why?”

  Taking Belinda’s hand, Malinda sat on the lowest step and tugged Belinda down beside her. She reached into her pocket, withdrew a brass key, and inserted it into the tiny lock on the front of the chest. But then, instead of opening the box, she turned to Belinda, shamefaced.

  “Belinda, please forgive me. Shortly before Papa died, he gave me this chest. He told me it would secure our futures, but I was . . .” Tears rolled down her thin cheeks, and her shoulders heaved with one sob. “I was selfish. I kept it hidden, because I thought if I showed it to you, you would take the contents and leave me.”

  Belinda’s heart thumped mightily. She licked her dry lips, taking care to remain focused on her sister’s face rather than letting her attention drop to the box.

  “I hid it here after the fire, in the cellar. I knew no one would find it there, and I planned to keep it for myself. But when you told me last night that—that you l-love me, I knew I couldn’t hide it from you anymore.” Malinda’s trembling chin and tear-filled eyes begged Belinda to offer understanding.

  Belinda caught Malinda’s hand. “I forgive you, Malinda. But . . . what is in the box?”

  Slowly Malinda turned the key. A tiny click sounded, and Mal-inda lifted the lid. Neat stacks of paper money and several official-looking certificates came into view. Belinda gasped. She remembered the financial worries that plagued Mama’s final days. How different things would have been if Malinda hadn’t hidden this box away! Her astonishment erupted in one word: “Malinda!”

  Tears rained down Malinda’s cheeks and plopped into her lap. “I-I’m so sorry!”

  Sympathy replaced the shock. Belinda once more enfolded her sister in her arms. Malinda’s insecurity was the root of her deceptive behavior. Losing her fiancé, her health, and her anchor— Papa—had created a fear of abandonment. Although Belinda still wished her mother’s last days could have been less anguished, she did understand her sister’s choice.

  Against Malinda’s musty hair, she whispered, “It’s all right. I’m not angry.”

  With a shuddering gulp, Malinda pulled free. “It’s yours now, Belinda. All of it. I . . . I don’t want it. Not one penny.”

  “Oh, but—”

  “In addition to Papa’s cash savings, there are several surety bonds that’ll mature over the next several years. Maybe now you won’t have to work so many jobs.” Malinda cupped Belinda’s face between her palms. “Please take the box and its contents, Belinda, with my sincerest apology.”

  Belinda shook her head, dislodging her sister’s hands. “I can’t! Papa gave it to you.”

  “But I want to give it to you!”

  “And you need money because—”

  Malinda raised her hand. “I know I can’t work and earn a wage. Not like others. But . . .” Suddenly she lowered her head and began toying with the folds of her skirt.

  A large shadow fell across the women’s feet and covered the chest. Belinda looked up into Peter’s concerned face.

  “Malinda, you are all right?” His deep voice held no impatience, only compassion.

  Malinda kept her head down.

  Belinda answered for her. “She’s fine, Peter. I’m sure she’s tuckered from her long walk, so if you could help her into the wagon . . .”

  “Of course.” Peter stepped forward.

  “No.” Malinda scuttled sideways on the step, distancing herself from both Belinda and Peter. “I’m not going back to your house.”

  Peter’s brows came down, but he spoke gently. “You cannot stay here. There is no means of caring for yourself all alone out here.”

  Malinda shook her head fiercely, her hair flying about her pale face. “I’m not staying here, either. I just needed Belinda to come for the chest so I didn’t have to carry it back to town.”

  Belinda looked in confusion from Peter to Malinda again. “Malinda, you must come with us.”

  But Malinda turned stubborn, jutting her chin defiantly. “I am not a child! I will not be forced to go somewhere against my will!”

  Belinda rose, tangling her hands in her skirt to keep from reaching for her sister. “But, Malinda, you have to come back with us. Our house is gone. You can’t stay here or in Gaeddert—not by yourself. There’s nowhere else for you to go.”

  Malinda pushed to her feet. She swayed slightly, but she remained upright, her head held at an arrogant angle. “There is somewhere else for me to go.” Taking a deep breath, she fixed Belinda with a firm look. “I am going to the Industrial School and Hygiene Home for the Friendless.”

  The home outside of Hillsboro for the orphaned and destitute? Malinda chose that over living with the Ollenburgers? Belinda’s shoulders slumped. “Oh, Malinda . . .”

  “Not because I am friendless.” Malinda continued as if Belinda hadn’t spoken. “I know I have friends . . . the Ollenburgers have proven that.”
r />   Peter and Belinda exchanged a quick look. Belinda said, “Then why—”

  “Because I can be of service there.” Malinda took two stumbling steps forward, catching Belinda’s hands. “Don’t you see? There are children at the home. Children who could benefit from an education. I know I can’t do hard labor—not with my weak heart—but I could teach. Couldn’t I, Belinda?”

  For the first time, Malinda’s resolve seemed to waver. Belinda squeezed her sister’s hands. “Of course you could. You would be excellent.” She spun to include Peter. “Don’t you agree?”

  “Ja.” Peter nodded, his face serious. “I have seen you with my girls. A very goot teacher you would be. But . . .” He sucked in his lips for a moment, his thick brows low. “Does the home have need for more teachers?”

  Malinda worried her lower lip with her teeth. “I . . . I assumed they would.”

  Peter put his hand on her shoulder. “If you like, we will drive out there and ask.”

  “Now?”

  “Now,” Peter confirmed. “Come.” He closed the lid on the chest and lifted it easily. Malinda took Belinda’s hand and followed him to the wagon. Peter bypassed Hillsboro and drove straight to the large stone building a few miles outside of town.

  When the oxen heaved to a stop in the yard, Malinda said, “Please, Belinda and Mr. Ollenburger, stay here and allow me to make the inquiries.”

  Although a part of Belinda wanted to argue against Malinda’s idea, she swallowed her protest and nodded in agreement. She watched Malinda enter the big building and then waited, fidgeting on the seat beside Peter. It seemed hours passed before Malinda emerged, a triumphant smile on her face.

  “They can use me,” she exclaimed as Peter helped her into the wagon’s bed. “If someone will drive me out tomorrow, I can start work immediately.”