My Heart Belongs in Niagara Falls, New York

by Barratt, Amanda;

  “He used to tease me, when we were younger, Tony did. Always joking. I think, perhaps, he thought if he were serious, he wouldn’t get any attention. He was wrong though. As the only son and future heir to Linley Park, he never would have lacked for that.” She closed her eyes, drawing in a shuddery breath. “He could have been a good man, had he been given the chance. He had it in him, I just know it.” Her voice cracked. Broke.

  The moment the flood began, he wrapped his arm around her, held her while the storm that had been raging inside her heart so long, finally found release. She sobbed hard, gulping sobs that came from a wound left too long to fester. He was no stranger to this kind of grief. As a lad, in the orphanage, he’d witnessed it more times than he could count, children weeping for parents lost, the darkness and their pillow all the comfort offered.

  But Adele would not suffer alone. He was there, cradling her in the midst of it all. And she let him, holding on tight, her face against his chest. In that moment, the salt of her tears, the fragrance of her hair, and walking her through this time of release, was all that existed for the both of them.

  No matter how great the tempest, it always turns to gentle rain.

  He let the thought strengthen him, whispered it against her hair on the chance that it would do the same to her.

  And let her soft sigh after the storm had passed, burrow deep inside and fill him. She wasn’t all right, by any means, but perhaps on the road to becoming so. But the truth remained that there would always be a wound, if she didn’t let the Healer in to mend it. Another lesson he’d learned from hard experience.

  “Thank you.” The words came out in a breath. “You were right.” She reached up and swiped a hand across her eyes, leaving a glistening trail across her pale cheeks. “If I could repay you somehow…”

  She was already doing far more than he could ever hope to give back. But perhaps he could offer her something in return. Something that never lost its value. Something he hadn’t held as close of late, as in former days.

  Faith. A Savior’s love. Both went beyond human understanding, yet both could be grasped hold of at any time. An anchor to cling to in the midst of life’s tempests.

  “There is, actually. And I’ll tell you tomorrow. But first, it’s late and you must rest.” He said the last as a cue for her to stand and return to the living room and her pallet.

  She didn’t stir. Just tucked her hand under the pillow and whispered, “Good night, Drew.”

  Tomorrow, she’d gain back her senses. No doubt, fatigue brought on by overwork and the dredging up of the bleeding places in her heart had robbed her of reason. And he wasn’t about to oust her, not when she seemed so at peace. Not when her presence brought a measure of the same into himself.

  Less than five minutes later, her even breathing told him she rested. The candle sputtered and died, swathing the room in near darkness. He shifted his head on the pillow, yet his eyes didn’t close.

  Instead, they lingered on the face of a woman whose presence had taken up a place in his heart that, by all rights, should have stayed as cold and empty as the street below.

  She couldn’t deny him this request, no matter how much she wanted to. But she intended to treat it as simply that—a request of Drew’s, and nothing more.

  On the one morning of the week when work didn’t call Adele out of bed at a painfully early hour, the last thing she wanted to do was rise, wash, brush and clean her dress, and walk to church. Church, of all places! But Drew had asked it of her, with a look in his eyes that made it impossible to refuse. Said he missed Reverend Darfield’s sermons and wanted her to take notes so he could keep up with the preaching, while unable to attend.

  Since his inability to do so was her own fault, the least she could do was make amends in this small way.

  So here she was. Sitting on the end of a wooden pew in the back of a church, trying not to yawn and wishing she were anywhere else but here. The last thing she needed was to listen to some preacher talk about God’s wrath and punishment upon the sinful—a group she undoubtedly belonged to.

  A young family scooted into the same pew—handsome father with one hand holding that of a rosy-cheeked little girl, the other guiding his glowing wife, obviously with child. They smiled at Adele, these happy people. The sort God loved to bless and lavish joy upon. Not the sort whose back ached from a week of scrubbing and polishing, or who lay in a grubby apartment robbed of the use of their limbs.

  Why had Drew requested this of her? Wouldn’t it have been more productive to have spent the day cleaning or baking for the three of them or—how she had once taken this for granted—putting her feet up and taking a good long nap?

  Everyone stood and Adele followed suit. As a frequent churchgoer in England and here in America, though less often, with the Osbournes, she knew the way of things. Stand up. Sing. Sit down. Squirm through a sermon. Stand back up with a sigh of relief and hurry out as fast as propriety allowed.

  They were at the stand up and sing part now. Adele hadn’t heard the hymn number to locate the song in the hymnal, so she didn’t bother. She opened the book and did her best to keep her face averted, so no one would look at her and judge. People in places like this were masters at judging those around them. Came as naturally as the whole sit-and-stand routine.

  Finally able to sit down, Adele opened the notebook Drew had given her and leafed to a fresh page. The tablet appeared to be almost full, preceding pages covered with Drew’s small, though legible, script.

  Seated next to her father and nearest to Adele, the little girl swung her legs and whispered something to her parent. The father’s eyes crinkled with a smile, but he held his fingers to his lips. Surprisingly, though she couldn’t have been more than five or six, the child quieted and fixed her eyes forward.

  Adele followed suit. A man stood on the platform at the front, an empty stage of sorts that didn’t even have a podium. It struck her as odd that though this church was situated in a middle-class part of town, it boasted few of the trappings one generally considered commonplace—an elaborate building, flowers at the front, an unspoken divide between where the favored members sat and where the masses did. At the church in Derbyshire, the Linley family had always used the very front pew, due to their place as leading family in the village. There didn’t seem to be any leading families inside this simple building.

  “Thank you for that lovely song, Mrs. Winter.” The middle-aged man wearing a simple navy suit addressed the white-haired lady on the organ bench, who beamed in reply. Though it was anyone’s guess who smiled more, the organist or the reverend. In fact, Adele hadn’t seen so many genuine smiles in one room since the day the Osbournes had rewarded their entire staff with an all-expenses-paid outing to the Falls.

  Where was the Sunday-morning sobriety her governess had drilled into her?

  “It doesn’t do to show emotion in church. One ought to sit as still as possible and keep one’s face in an attitude of quiet reflection.”

  “And thank you for assisting us in the collection.” Adele realized that while she’d been musing, two lads passed baskets down the rows. “This offering is to go for new furniture in the orphanage, as we talked about last week. I think we can all agree that as more folks become involved in providing a safe home for children without parents, the Lord will be faithful to bless this ministry and use it as He leads.”

  Was this something she should be taking notes on? Adele decided against it. Drew didn’t need to know the church was asking for money, though the orphanage they spoke of sounded like a far better place for children than the one Drew had lived in.

  “Well, I could go on thanking people, but that’s not why you all came out here today. And if you all want to get out of here in time for Sunday lunch, I’d better get to talkin’.”

  Everyone laughed. Adele bit back a gasp. Hadn’t any of these people heard similar instructions from their governesses or parents? Smiling in church could perhaps be allowed, but laughing…?

 
; “Today’s passage of scripture comes from the book of Isaiah, chapter forty, verses twenty-eight through thirty-one. And it says this.” The reverend opened his Bible and flipped through the pages.

  Adele put down the chapter and verse, certain Drew would probably want to know that.

  “Hast thou not known? hast thou not heard, that the everlasting God, the LORD, the Creator of the ends of the earth, fainteth not, neither is weary? there is no searching of his understanding. He giveth power to the faint; and to them that have no might he increaseth strength. Even the youths shall faint and be weary, and the young men shall utterly fall: But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.”

  The man read the passage, not in a voice befitting an orator, but in the sort of tone one might use to read aloud a letter from a dear friend. Adele started at the words. “Renew their strength”? Had the reverend skipped a passage or misread the line? How was this even possible? Was this why these people smiled? Because God had renewed their strength?

  Something wasn’t right here. God didn’t care enough to do that. He helped those who helped themselves. If one wasn’t much good at doing that, there wasn’t any hope. She’d done nothing but help herself since the day she watched her father slip away before her very eyes. God hadn’t been there then, and after that, she’d slowly stopped asking. God was up in the sky, managing the universe, and meting out punishment upon the wicked. How could He have time to help measly people like her renew their strength? And what was this “waiting upon the Lord”? If she’d waited on anybody, she’d be back in England, she and Mother living in some cottage not their own, Linley Park owned by some cash-loaded social climber. Not that her current state wasn’t equally miserable and her fate heading in the direction of that cottage, but still…

  Forcing the thoughts aside, she willed her mind to focus its concentration on gathering pertinent points for Drew’s notes, the reason she’d come in the first place. Next to her on the seat, the little girl wriggled, and her father pulled her atop his lap.

  “If this passage isn’t proof, I don’t know what is. In our human weakness, we grow weary. Life is hard, folks. We’ve all seen our share of sorrow, and there’ve been times in each of our lives when we’ve wanted to give up or wondered, ‘why in the world does everything feel so dark and miserable?’ Some of you may already have heard this story, but there are some who haven’t, and I think it sheds light on today’s passage. About ten years ago, I was one of those young men who’d grown tired and faint. For me, the son of a man who didn’t have two dimes to rub together, life was about existing on my own and following the oft quoted saying that God helps those who help themselves.”

  Her pencil clattered to the floor. Face flushing, she bent to retrieve it. Was this minister also a mind reader? Did he somehow possess the ability to delve into the thoughts of each of his parishioners? Common sense told her that was a ridiculous idea, so she forced her attention back to the sermon.

  “That’s a lie, but it’s one I believed. God doesn’t want us to float languidly through life, not working or doing a thing to change our lot. But ultimately, He is our help and our only hope is in Him. And when we try to fix things on our own, especially when life seems desperate, all we’re doing is spinning ourselves in circles, just like the Israelites in the desert. Instead of entering the Promised Land, we keep going around that same mountain of discouragement and defeat, thinking we can run our own lives better than anyone or anything.” The reverend smiled, a flash of white teeth. “Well, here’s a bit of information, one you can take home with you to your job on Monday, even to Sunday lunch this afternoon. We’re not the ones who can run our lives the best. But I’m thankful I know the One who is. Because when we take our life and pass it from our weak human hands into the hands of an all-powerful God, it’s only then that we will truly soar and not grow weary, run and not faint. What I learned, and what I hope you all will too, is that human effort and knowledge isn’t enough to save us or even guarantee that the path of our lives will be smooth. I’d rather be a weak man living by God’s strength than a strong man walking in my own. So give it to Him, folks. All your burdens, all the weariness and discouragement and weight you’ve been carrying around far too long. He wants to take it. But you have to be willing to hand it over and trust that He’ll work all things out for our good if we’ll only surrender. Shall we close in prayer?”

  Adele bowed her head with everyone else, but her mind wandered, far from the confines of the church. If only what the reverend said could be that easy.

  But he didn’t know her. She didn’t deserve to give her problems to God. She’d created them all on her own, and there could be no possible way God would want to take them. A girl who’d caused her own brother’s death didn’t deserve the help of a God who demanded righteousness. Someone who’d caused Drew, a God-fearing man to lose so much, wasn’t worthy to ask for help. It was a weight she deserved to carry, and one she would not shirk.

  Of course, the Lord would help a man like this reverend or the family sitting beside her. They were worthy. They could accept the minister’s words and follow them.

  The only reason she deserved to be here was to take notes for Drew, a man who actually merited God’s blessings. While the only thing she merited was to trudge her way through the mire of these problems of her own devising.

  As each day passed, his strength increased. Though with Jim Delany beside him in the living room, Drew couldn’t help but feel reduced to weakling status.

  “Bar fights never agree with a man, but you’re looking a mite better than the last time I saw you.” Delany managed to situate himself on the sorry excuse for a kitchen chair without breaking it.

  “I’m not sure how I should reply to that.” Drew shifted, taking care with his still-immobile limb. Somehow Delany had figured out about Drew’s injury and visited once before, bringing a bag from the bakery. Drew wouldn’t have cared if the man had simply brought himself. Any friend was a heaven-sent blessing, even an unlikely one.

  As long as Delany kept his doings with the Osbournes separate from his visits here. Which he seemed to do, visiting on his afternoons off and wearing clothes that suited him better than his starched-up butler attire.

  “What’re you aiming to do after your leg heals?”

  An ache throbbed in his leg, but he preferred that to the one noosing his mind. In a matter of weeks, he’d be able to look for work, support himself instead of letting Adele bear his financial burden.

  A ray of sunlight should have shone at the end of the darkness. But no. Because his debt to Franklin Conway snuffed out any particle of light, any thought of new beginnings. A debt he had no earthly idea how he would manage to pay.

  Fifteen hundred dollars was a handful of sand in the vast desert of Conway’s wealth. It wasn’t as if the man had gone into actual debt to finance the scheme.

  Yet the shadow of that debt would hang over Drew’s existence as long as he dwelt on this earth. He couldn’t pay it by January. How could he produce such a sum? Unless he resorted to illegal means of course. If he desired, it would be an easy matter to locate those who dealt in crime—stealing, smuggling, forgery.

  But how could he do that and still seek God’s face in prayer without hanging his own head in shame and sin? He couldn’t.

  So unless God suddenly dropped a sack of money from the sky, Drew was trapped.

  “Look for a job, I suppose. What else do the unemployed do?”

  “I think I just might be able to help you out there.” Delany stretched out his long legs—probably because the chair gave them cramps. “I’m quitting the Osbournes. It was only supposed to be a temporary situation until my cousin got his furniture business up and running. But he made a few bad investments and it took longer than he thought it would to raise the funds. It’s done now, and I’ll be turning in my notice to Mrs. O before the week’s end. Can�
�t say I’ll be sorry to be shod of that place.” Delany rubbed a finger along his neck where his bow tie usually perched. “There’s room for able men. Once you get back on your feet, pay us a visit and we’ll see what you’re fit to do.”

  The news should have given him a feeling of lightness.

  But unless Delany’s cousin was making pieces worth a thousand dollars each, the earnings Drew would be making wouldn’t be enough to even begin to cover the debt plus keep himself and Hope alive.

  He smiled though. The job was a start, something to work toward. And right now, he welcomed any challenge that made him think beyond the walls of this apartment and his lame leg.

  “I’ll do that, and gratefully too. Right now, I’d welcome just about any chance at something to put my hand to.”

  Delany nodded.

  Silence fell between them. In the apartment below, a couple of youngsters started their daily out-yelling match. Blasted kids. When he’d been their age, Drew couldn’t have even imagined being so loud and unruly. Hunger left one with little energy for that type of thing.

  Delany ahemed twice. Grunted. “Well, guess I’ll be getting back then.” He stood.

  “Thanks for stopping by.” Drew held out his hand, gripped Delany’s. “And I greatly appreciate the job offer.”

  “Yeah, well…” The apartment wasn’t that hot, was it? Couldn’t be since they didn’t have a fire in the hearth. So why did Delany’s face look so beet-colored all of a sudden? “Miss Dawson…how is she?” He arrowed his gaze through the floor.

  “She’s had a cough lately.” Drew rubbed the back of his neck. Delany was a decent fellow, but he always acted stranger than strange whenever Hope was concerned.

  “She’s sick!” Delany exclaimed.