“I could tell. What were you thinking about?” She spoke into her lap and wrestled the needle through the taut fabric.
“Your obvious love of music.”
She gave the piano another, longer glance but turned to meet his gaze. “Yes, I do love it. I was a piano teacher before I came here.” Her answer seemed curt to him and it surprised him.
“You were piano teacher? I thought you taught in a school.”
“No,” she said. She stared into the corner of the room and remembered young Robert and smiled. “I had individual students. But when they stopped taking lessons, I had to sell my piano to have money to live. I inherited that piano from my mother, and selling it was the hardest thing I’d ever done.” She paused, put her head down and started another stitch. “And then I saw your advertisement.” A soft breeze blew in through the window and the sounds of summer filled the room, but neither of them spoke for a few moments.
“I thought since you miss it so much, I could arrange for you to play at the church.” He looked down at his hands folded in his lap. “That is, if you wanted to.”
Her head popped up with a smile that lit the room. “That would be wonderful!” The thought of being able to play again made her heart soar.
“I’ll make the arrangements.” He nodded and stood.
“Shall I come with you, Ezra?” She stood up and put her needlework on the chair in the hopes he’d say yes. He paused in the doorway and looked back at her. Clara’s hands were folded at her waist and her eyebrows were raised in anticipation of his answer, but an image of another woman who used to stand in that very spot and in that very manner flooded into his mind.
“I can’t,” he said. He gave her one last look and walked out the door.
Ezra’s stomach was in knots as he entered the church. The sight of the piano Grace used to play for their small congregation made him feel sick but he knew he needed to do this for Clara. Something strange had happened while he’d held her in his arms. He felt a protective tenderness creep past the wall he’d erected around his heart. Her happiness, or lack thereof, bothered him more than he wanted to admit. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hear music in his house again, but was it right for him to cut off the one thing that seemed to bring her such joy?
“Ezra, my boy, what are you doing here?” Ralph’s booming voice interrupted his thoughts.
“Hello, Ralph. Is Pastor Brighton around?” Ezra clenched and unclenched his hands and tried to wring the uneasy feeling from his stomach.
“Sorry to say but he’s not. Off visiting the widow Charlotte and her children today. Can I help you?”
“I’ve got a…strange request.” Ezra swallowed in a vain attempt to make the the dryness in his throat go away.
“All righty then. Let’s hear it.” Ralph sat in one of the pews and waited for him to speak.
“Clara plays piano and I was wondering if she could practice here during the week?” He felt the warmth creep up his neck and he knew his face was red.
“Don’t you still have that fancy piano you bought Grace?” There was no condemnation in Ralph’s tone and his face showed none either.
“Yes,” Ezra admitted. “But I just—I can’t listen to her play it.” He dropped his eyes and combed his hair with his fingers.
“I see,” Ralph said. “I’ll talk with the pastor, but I don’t think it’ll be a problem. Have her come over tomorrow and I’ll show her around.”
“Thank you, Ralph.” Ezra folded his hands and gestured a relieved thank you along with his words. Ralph looked as if he was about say something more but he closed his mouth and nodded instead. Without waiting to see what fresh wisdom Ralph had, Ezra nodded in return and left. He respected Ralph but everything had changed since Grace died, including his relationship with her father.
A New Friendship
Clara was a bundle of excitement as she walked down the dusty street on her way to the church. She’d come this way a few times with Ezra and knew exactly where she was going, though it wasn’t difficult to find anything in the small town.
The church stood out from the other drab buildings with its white walls and cross atop the steeple. It was a place of prayer and peace for the citizens of Dakota City, and it was about to become a refuge for Clara as well.
She climbed the four steps that led to the doors, each of which had a cross-shaped window in the center. She pulled one open and stepped into the cool interior. Clara let her eyes adjust to the dim light. The rows of pews marched up to the front where a large, oak pulpit stood at attention and waited for the next Sunday service.
“Morning.” A deep voice came out of the dim recesses of the church. An older man stepped into the muted light and smiled. He had grey hair and a kind face.
“Hello, I’m Clara—Clara Boone.”
“Ezra said you’d be coming,” he said with a grin. I’m Ralph. I hear you’ve got a way with the ivory keys.”
“I do enjoy playing.” She blushed.
“Then come right this way. I talked with Pastor Brighton and he said he’d be happy to have the sanctuary filled with music from morning ‘til evening.” Ralph laughed as he spread his hands wide with his palms face up. You’re welcome to visit whenever you like.”
The thought of being welcomed to play here whenever she desired filled her heart. She followed Ralph to the piano at the front of the sanctuary. It was older than any she had played before, but it seemed to be in good repair.
She sat down and played a few arpeggios and enjoyed the sound that echoed in the large, empty room. Then she began to play one of her favorite hymns, Come, Poor Sinner. She closed her eyes and let the melody wash over her and she felt joy fill her heart. Music had always affected her and it soothed and comforted her. Playing music gave her a peace that made the cares of the world disappear if only for a while. When she finished, her eyes opened and saw Ralph seated in the front pew. He was wiping away tears.
“Ralph, are you all right?”
His easy grinned returned. “You bet. That was just…beautiful. My Grace used to play that hymn all the time.”
“Used to?” she asked.
“Yes.” He nodded. “The Lord took her home about three years ago.” There was a hint of something in his eyes that made her feel as if he had more to say. He bowed instead and stood up.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
“No, Mrs. Boone. Don’t apologize. No way you coulda known.” He walked up and stood next to the piano.
“I’ve always loved to play, Ralph.” She caressed the worn keys with her fingertips and felt warm inside. “It’s where I find the most joy in life.” She saw Ralph’s sad eyes and felt compassion for this sweet man that had lost his wife.
“I do understand that, Mrs. Boone.” He held her gaze for a few minutes longer as if he was looking into her soul. He clasped his hands together in front of him. “I’ll be going to work on a project in the back. Enjoy playing that piano and come and get me if you need anything at all.”
“Thank you so much, Ralph. It was a pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise,” he said before he turned and left.
The sight of his slumped shoulders brought on a fresh wave of empathy in her heart, and she had an idea. She spent the next several hours playing until her hands were so sore they cramped and thought more of her idea.
Ezra came home from work and found Clara in the kitchen. She was taking a pie from the oven and the bright smile on her face made her look even more beautiful to him. They had fallen into the habit of Ezra telling her about his day when he got home, and they found ways to laugh and tell more of what they didn’t know of each other. He stood at the entrance to the kitchen and watched her bustle about as she hummed under her breath.
He had tolerated her humming but it made the familiar pangs of guilt wash over him. Over time his reaction had softened.
“That looks delicious.”
“Oh my!” Clara whirled around and nearly dropped the pie she held in her a
pron. “Ezra, you shouldn’t scare me like that. I could have dropped the pie and then where would we be?”
“Eating pie off the floor I suppose.”
She laughed and it was full and genuine. A beautiful flush tinted her cheeks and he felt the need to feel her in his arms again, and he wanted to kiss his wife.
“What?” she asked.
“You have a lovely laugh.” He felt silly but he’d always enjoyed showering compliments on Grace.
“Thank you,” she blushed more deeply and turned her attention back to the pie. “Are you hungry?”
“Of course.”
They sat down and Clara served the dinner she had prepared. He shared an amusing story about an old prospector who still came into the bank about once a month and tried to exchange fool’s gold. No matter how many times Ezra explained it wasn’t “real” gold, he kept coming back with more each time.
“For all I know he throws away the real gold,” Ezra said. Clara laughed and her eyes sparkled. “How was your day?”
She sobered and her gaze trailed to the potatoes on her fork. “It was…nice.”
He wanted to press her further and then he remembered she had gone to the church that day. He struggled with the war that waged inside. He wanted Clara to feel free to talk with him about anything, but the raw memories of the music Grace had played led him to a place he couldn’t go.
“I met a nice man today.” She looked up from her fork and Ezra’s eyes met hers at the sudden change of subject.
“You did?”
“Yes, his name is Ralph.” She smiled as she thought of the sweet, sad old man. “When I was play…Rather, when I was at the church, we talked a little. I felt so bad for him because his wife Grace died three years ago.” Her eyes misted at the memory of Ralph’s tears when she had finished playing that first hymn.
His wife? Ezra wondered what Clara had heard that made her think Grace was Ralph’s wife. He was about to ask when Clara continued.
“I was thinking on my way home.” She swallowed hard and gave Ezra a hesitant look. “Would it be all right if—that is to say, would you mind if we had him over for dinner some time? He seemed so…lonely.”
Ezra’s mind swirled with confusion and grief and fear and love as he thought about his situation. He knew he must tell Clara about Grace, but he feared her reaction would be harsh when she learned that Grace was the reason he prohibited music in his house.
“I’m sorry,” she spoke up. “I—I shouldn’t have asked.”
Ezra realized he had been silent for far too long and Clara misinterpreted his silence as disapproval.
“No, Clara please—don’t apologize.” He sucked in a deep breath. “There’s something…something I haven’t told you.” His heart pounded in his chest.
“Oh? What is it?” Her eyes held their sweet innocence and he lifted up a silent prayer that she would understand.
“Clara,” he said. “Grace wasn’t Ralph’s wife. Grace was my wife.”
The Truth
Clara felt her world stop for a moment as Ezra’s words sunk in. Did he just tell her Grace had been his wife?
“I don’t understand. What do you mean?”
Ezra rubbed a hand over his face, the slice of pie in front of him completely forgotten. He let out a deep sigh but turned to look into her eyes. They were open and honest, but they hinted at a pain of their own.
“I married Grace six years ago. Ralph raised her on his own after his wife died in childbirth. When he went to work at the church, she came with him. As she grew older she needed something to pass the time while her father worked. So, he bartered work to provide piano lessons for her, and she practiced while he worked there at the church.” Ezra searched the corner of his kitchen for his next words and then continued.
“I loved going to church. I would show up early just to hear her play and I fell in love with the passion she used to coax those melodies from that old piano. When I was hired on at the bank and could provide for a wife, I asked her to marry me.”
Clara sensed the weight of his words and how heavy they must have felt to him. He had fallen in love with the passion Grace had for playing music, and she realized this was the source of the pain he felt when he heard her play. She reached across the table and put her small hand on his.
“We were so happy,” he continued. “I saved up and bought the piano in the parlor as my wedding gift to her. It was a selfish gift, though. I wanted to hear her play and sing.” He paused for a long time and Clara squeezed his hand as tears fell from his cheeks.
“What happened?” Her voice was barely above a whisper. She didn’t want him to shut her out now.
“She took ill five months before our third anniversary,” he said. He took out his handkerchief and dried his eyes. “I did everything I could think of. I hired the best doctors, I took her to a specialist in the city, we cried and prayed together until our eyes swelled shut, but they couldn’t figure out what was wrong with her.” He sniffled and wiped more tears. “Three weeks before our anniversary, she died.”
His words were so abrupt that it shocked Clara. The tears in his eyes made them sparkle in the late afternoon sun. He looked broken to her now, completely defeated, and Clara felt helpless.
“I can’t stand to hear music anymore, Clara.”
“I’m so sorry…I had no idea.”
“You couldn’t have.” Her eyes snapped to his as he took her hand between his. “And I’m sorry for not telling you when we were writing to each other. I didn’t know how to.”
She knew he hadn’t deliberately deceived her, but what if he never wanted to hear music again? And why had he decided to marry her if his love for Grace was still so strong? The last question burned inside but she forced herself to remain silent.
He smoothed his thumb in gentle circles on the back of her hand. “What is it, Clara? I know you have something to say.”
“I have something to ask you, Ezra,” she said. “But I’m not sure I should ask it.”
“I know that I still need to prove to you that I’m not an angry or violent man. That night…” He thought of the fear he saw in her eyes and he felt so small. “Please Clara. You must ask what you need to ask.”
“Why—” she hesitated, “Why did you marry me then?”
Her question made his stomach twist in knots. He didn’t want her to ever feel like an afterthought, but that is what he’d done. He wasn’t sure how to answer her legitimate question, but he knew one thing for certain. He was going to try.
“I know it must seem terrible to you that I wanted—that I needed to marry again if I haven’t moved past…” He cleared his throat and continued. “Moved past my wife’s death. This last year has been miserable, and I felt so alone in this house. I needed to do something about that.”
“So you put out the advertisement?”
“Yes,” he said with a nod. “I thought finding someone outside of town would be…easier.”
“Why don’t you want to talk about her?” She watched his shoulders droop and he let go of her hand.
“Because it hurts so much.” His answer was out before he could stop it, but the truth of his words gave him an unexpected feeling of relief.
“I see.” There was defeat in her posture now, and he hated to see that in her. How could he reassure her that he was moving on, just not as quickly as he’d hoped?
“Clara.” She lifted her gaze to meet his, “I want you to stay. I’m learning to love the memories of my Grace, but I want to learn to love you. It’s just going to take me some time.”
The soft touch of her hand on top of his warmed his heart more than her smile. When she spoke, her voice was soft and caring.
“I’ll wait.”
A Declaration
Ezra paced through the sanctuary of the church and debated this impulsive trip during his lunch break. He needed to talk to Ralph, but he wasn’t sure what to say. How do you talk to the father of your first wife about the reality of life with your s
econd?
“Ezra? That you, m’boy?” Ralph ambled up the center aisle to where Ezra stood.
“I hope I’m not bothering you.”
“Not at all. Did you want to sit?” He motioned to a hard pew.
“All right.” Ezra sat and angled his body toward Ralph. “I have a delicate topic to discuss with you.”
“Just spit it out, son. I’m too old to care much about delicacies.” Ralph was never one to mince words and he let out a short laugh.
“I don’t know how to love my wife.”
“Well, now,” Ralph’s eyes widened. “What makes you say that?”
How did he explain the conflict in his heart? The desire he felt one minute to shower all of his affections on Clara, but the restraint he felt because of his former love for Grace. The feeling of betrayal was always just beneath the surface.
“I feel as if I’m betraying Grace by wanting to love Clara.” There. He’d said it and already his heart felt lighter. It was one thing to hold things inside, but once they were said, they took on a new meaning.
“And what makes you think you need to be loyal to Grace now?”
“What do you mean? She was my wife.” The question struck Ezra by surprise.
“Of course she was. Was being the important word there.” Ralph leaned forward and his gaze bored into Ezra. “Son, you don't owe Grace anything. It wasn’t your fault she died and you can’t bring her back by punishing yourself now. That’s not how it works.”
The blunt words cut Ezra to the quick. That was exactly what he was doing. It was a strange type of penance he pressed on himself in order to love Grace even in death.
“And Ezra,” Ralph clapped him on the shoulder, “Grace would want you to move on. She would want you to remember her with fondness, but not fear. To enjoy new love. She would tell you to feel joy and peace, especially from music.”
Ezra nodded, his eyes filling with unshed tears. “You’re right.”
Christmas Miracles: Mega Mail Order Bride 20-Book Box Set: Multi-Author Box Set Page 16