by Susan Page Davis, Darlene Franklin, Pamela Griffin, Lisa Harris
There were very few people who understood her the way he did. She had vented and poured out her frustrations, and the entire time he’d listened, never once trying to fix everything or judge her heated reaction toward the board’s decision. Instead, he grieved with her, cried with her, and prayed with her.
“Are you all right?” Philip placed her hand in the crook of his arm.
“I think so.” The pain lingered, but some of the sting had lessened. “Today was heartbreaking, but I realize that staying angry won’t change the situation.”
Michaela glanced at Philip. He always knew how to make her laugh and exactly what to say to lift her spirits. As the shadows of twilight moved across the waters, she studied the silhouette of his tall figure. Every movement he made with his broad shoulders and long legs demonstrated strength.
She stopped to hold on to a railing so she could gaze out across the constant flow of the tide. “It’s beautiful out tonight, isn’t it?”
The last of the fading sunlight glistened off the dark waves, and she didn’t think there could be another place as peaceful as this.
“It’s getting late.” She caught the longing in Philip’s voice as he spoke and wondered if he wanted to prolong the evening as much as she did. “I guess I’d better take you home now.”
Philip remained silent, lost in thought, as he walked Michaela to the door of Aunt Clara’s house. He wondered what it would be like to kiss her.
“Michaela,” he began as they reached the door.
“Yes?”
In the silver light of the moon, he could see her face and hear her breathing. He had to slow down. He had to wait until he could sort out the myriad of emotions he felt.
“I’ll see you in a few days,” he said. “I have to go out of town tomorrow to deliver an order.”
“You don’t normally make deliveries, do you?” Her eyes widened, but he couldn’t read her expression. Did she care that he would be gone for a while?
“A couple of workers are out this week, and it has to be done. I’ll be back on Friday.” A torrent of emotions erupted as she touched his arm with the tips of her fingers.
“Be careful, and thank you for this evening. In spite of all that happened today, I needed this.”
“Me, too.” He resisted his desire to run his thumb down her cheek, wishing he had the words to take away the pain he knew she felt.
“I almost forgot; Aunt Clara wanted me to invite you over for dinner Friday evening. Will you be back in time?”
He nodded and felt a rush of anticipation. “I won’t be back too late.”
“Wonderful. We’ll eat at seven.”
“Perfect.” If only he didn’t have to wait until Friday to see her again.
He was in love with his brother’s wife.
An hour later, Philip stood in the middle of his workroom, rubbing oil into the Queen Anne desk he’d finished earlier that afternoon. Did the fact that Ethen was dead really make a difference? What would Ethen think if he knew that the feelings he felt for Michaela had crossed beyond innocent friendship to wanting to ask her to spend the rest of her life with him?
Ethen is dead!
Philip poured more oil on the cloth, then pressed it harder against the rich copper-colored grain. He felt at home with a piece of wood in his hands. The process of taking the raw material and forming it into something useful was a progression of change and development. Just like his relationship with Michaela.
For years, Michaela had been Ethen’s wife. As a man, Philip had appreciated her beauty and sweet temperament, but his feelings had never gone beyond what was appropriate. She was a friend and close family member. Nothing more. Even after Ethen’s death, he’d never imagined feeling the way he did tonight. But now that line had been crossed.
Never again could he watch her smile without his heart pounding in his chest or feel her soft hand against his arm without longing to engulf it in his own. No. Things could never be the same again.
He’d listened to her tonight as she’d poured out her frustrations over losing Anna, and his heart broke with hers. His feelings of loss over Anna’s adoption couldn’t compare to hers, but he still experienced grief and heartache because she felt those things.
Wait on the Lord: be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart: wait, I say, on the Lord. The verse from Psalm 27 came to mind as Philip moved to the other side of the desk and continued to vigorously polish the wood. For years he had waited for the one whom God would choose for him to share his life with. The one he would someday call his wife. Was Michaela the reason he had never given his heart to anyone else?
Other questions haunted him. Could he share his feelings with Michaela? And if he did, would she understand? Was it even a possibility that she might come to feel the way he did? He threw the rag against the wood and let out a deep sigh. Resting his hands against the decorative panel, he shook his head. He couldn’t get over the feeling he was betraying his brother’s trust. But Ethen was dead. Ethen would want Michaela to find happiness with someone else. Why not with him?
As soon as Michaela finished her last piano lesson the next day, she made her way to the garden behind the house. In spite of the late summer heat, her aunt had managed to keep the flowers and plants thriving.
“Looks like we’ll have plenty of fresh vegetables this fall.” Michaela greeted Aunt Clara with a smile. Night had brought with it an array of uncertainties and fears, but in the light of day, she’d managed to keep her emotions under control.
“I might have gone a bit overboard.” Aunt Clara glanced up from a healthy tomato plant. “I don’t know why, but I went ahead and planted twice what I normally do.”
“We both enjoy it, and no one complains when you give the extra away.” Michaela sat down in the warm grass and stretched her legs out in front of her.
“I guess you’re right.” Aunt Clara went back to tending to her plants like a mother doting on her young. “There’s a letter from Daniel for you on the porch rail.”
“I must have missed it when I came out.” Michaela stood and walked back toward the porch, eager to read the news from her brother. “Did I tell you Philip will be coming over for dinner tomorrow night?”
“Good. I thought I’d make some of my mother’s Irish stew.”
Michaela picked up the envelope and tapped the edge against her palm. “Philip certainly won’t complain.”
“That boy could use some home cooking, though what he really needs is a good woman.”
“You know I’ve tried to introduce him to some of the women at church, but he always says they’re too old, or too young, or they talk too much.” Michaela slipped the thin paper from the envelope. “I’ve decided to stay out of it from now on. Seems to just get me into trouble.”
Michaela took the letter over to a small wrought iron bench on the other side of her aunt and sat down. “I still can’t believe it’s been six years since Daniel and Emma left Boston.” Michaela looked down at the wrinkled paper and began to read aloud.
Dear Aunt Clara and Michaela,
It’s well into summer here, and every year I seem to enjoy living in this area more. I wish you could see this beautiful part of Massachusetts someday. Cranton is only a short distance from the Connecticut River, and we are surrounded by forests of pines that blend into the farms and orchards around us. This is a place that grows on you, and I can’t imagine living anywhere else.
We have some good news to tell you. Emma is expecting again. I guess the news comes with mixed emotions and concerns since we have already lost two children.
The doctor is worried, but he told us if she can carry the baby past the next two months, she has a good chance of delivering a healthy baby in late December. Please remember to lift us up to the Father in your prayers. Emma is strong, but the last two years have been very difficult. Losing two babies has been hard on her, both physically and emotionally, yet she amazes me with her strength and faith in God.
Things on the farm a
re going well. The crops have been very good this year. We also have several prize pigs we will butcher this fall. Our apple trees are thriving, and we have a growing number of cattle and horses. I thank God every day for the land and what it gives us. I have come a long way from a newly married youngster who many said had a foolish dream of becoming a farmer.
Our closest neighbor, Eric Johnson, has a farm about twice the size of ours. I think I’ve mentioned him to you in previous letters. He’s a widower with six children whose wife died soon after we arrived. Yet he’s helped us so much since our arrival in Cranton.
Yesterday one of his boys came over with a big pot of stew when they heard Emma was feeling poorly. Eric’s going with me to Springfield when I sell two of my horses to help ensure I get a good price for them. I guess he has lived out here close to eighteen years now. His kids truly are a blessing, as they work hard alongside him to keep the farm going.
We’re planning a fall celebration for the church and the community next month. Something we really look forward to each year. We may not have all the conveniences and luxuries found in Boston, but we will have the best supper you could imagine, with smoked beef, chicken, steak, and all the trimmings.
Michaela, we want you to know we’re keeping you in our daily prayers. May God continue to heal your heart.
All our love,
Daniel and Emma
“I wish I could go see them and help Emma.” Michaela set the letter down beside her and lifted up a silent prayer for Emma’s pregnancy. It had been a bitter loss for the entire family when Emma miscarried during her first pregnancy, then again a year later.
“Why don’t you go?” Aunt Clara looked up from the plant she was trimming.
“I couldn’t leave you here alone.” Michaela got up from the bench and began weeding around a bed of pink roses.
“Why not? It would be good for you to go away for a while and get some rest. The timing’s perfect.” She rested her hands on her hips. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it earlier. Might help you get your mind off Anna, and besides, you’ve been working too hard lately.”
“I wouldn’t exactly have nothing to do if I went. I would have to help run a farm or at least do the cooking and cleaning. What do I know about farm work?”
“Michaela.” Aunt Clara’s glance held a measure of determination. “Maybe going to see your brother is just what you need. It would give you a chance to step back from things and figure out what direction you need to take with your life.”
Michaela pulled out another weed. Is this Your will for me, Lord? From somewhere deep inside her, she knew her aunt was right. She had buried so many feelings and emotions deep within her, and just as this garden needed to be weeded and taken care of, the day would come when she would have to finish dealing with the pain from her past. If she didn’t, she would never be able to go on with her life. She also knew herself well enough to know that if she took the time to think about going, she would never leave.
“I’ll send a telegram tomorrow.” Michaela stood and headed back into the house. A small measure of peace began to grow, giving her the confirmation she needed.
“If you like, I can send it for you,” Aunt Clara said. “I need to go out this afternoon.”
Michaela turned to her aunt and smiled. “I think someone’s afraid I might back out.”
“Not at all.”
“Well then, it looks like I’m going to Cranton.”
On Friday, Michaela went to the orphanage with mixed emotions. She would be leaving on the train for her brother’s farm in a week, and while she felt the excitement of her upcoming trip, part of her wanted to stay close to the familiar. Her aunt was right. Time away was exactly what she needed. It would give her the chance to think and see things more clearly.
Still, her stomach tightened as she thought of how Anna might react to her going away for a while. Michaela waited until after music class when the kids were playing outside and she could talk to Anna alone.
“Miss Agnes said I might have a new mommy and daddy,” Anna said after sipping some tea from a small cup and saucer Michaela had given her the previous Christmas. They sat in the front parlor at a small table with four chairs: one for Michaela, one for Anna, and the other two for Anna’s stuffed bears, Oliver and Sam, who had joined them for the tea party.
“Have you met them?” Michaela asked, pouring another cup of tea for Anna. She attempted to ignore the sharp sting of pain at the thought of someone else raising the little girl.
“She has long dark hair, and he has a funny mustache.” Anna’s face turned somber, and the corners of her mouth curved into a frown. “I don’t want them for my mommy and daddy. I want you.”
Michaela took a deep breath and reached over to grasp Anna’s hand. “Wouldn’t it be nice to have a mommy and a daddy?”
“I’m not sure.” Anna scrunched up her nose. “They’re going to visit me again. I heard them tell Miss Agnes they would like a girl and a boy. Maybe Johnny Philips. Does that mean he would be my brother?”
“I suppose it would. Would you like a brother?”
Anna just shrugged. “I told Miss Agnes I wanted you to be my mommy. She said you wanted to be my mommy, but you couldn’t right now. Why?”
Michaela took a deep breath, trying to explain the situation as simply as she could. “You know I would like to be your mother, but some people who care about you decided it would be better for you to have both a mommy and a daddy.”
“Oh.” Anna did not sound convinced. “Will I still get to see you?”
“I’m sure we can work it out. No matter what happens, you’ll always be very special to me.”
Michaela knew she needed to talk to Anna about her upcoming trip but ached with the knowledge they would be apart. “I need to tell you about something. My brother and his wife, Emma, are going to have a baby, but she’s sick. I told them I wanted to stay with them for a while to help Emma with the cooking and cleaning.”
Anna sat still for a moment. “So you have to go away?”
“Yes, they live in Cranton, near the Connecticut River. Do you know where that is?”
Anna shook her head.
“I have to take a train to get there.” Michaela tried to make it sound like an adventure.
“I took a train to New York once.”
“I remember.” Michaela smiled, trying to ignore the ache in her heart.
“When will you be back?”
“Sometime after Christmas.”
Anna cocked her head. “Will you come and see me when you get back?”
“Of course I will.” Michaela ruffled the little girl’s hair, then tilted up her chin with her finger. “I wouldn’t miss that for the world.”
“Maybe I’ll be living with my new mommy and daddy by then.” Anna picked up Oliver and wrapped her short arms around him.
Michaela motioned for Anna and Oliver to come sit in her lap. Pulling them close, she stroked the young girl’s hair and prayed for a miracle.
Chapter 4
Philip made his fifth inspection in the mirror of the apartment above the store. His thick black hair lay in neat curls, and the dark blue suit that had been recently cleaned and pressed matched the color of his eyes. He straightened his collar and tried to relax. Funny, though twenty-nine years old, he suddenly felt like a teenager again, asking Mary Lou to the social at church. But that had been fifteen years ago, and he wasn’t interested in Mary Lou with her freckles and pigtails anymore. Today he only had eyes for Michaela.
He hadn’t slept for two nights, praying and wrestling with thoughts he hadn’t known existed until a few days ago. He knew he couldn’t wait any longer. In spite of the apprehension he felt over his newfound feelings toward Michaela, God had granted him peace. Tonight he would tell her how he felt.
His hands shook as he picked up his hat and slowly walked out the front door and down the busy sidewalk that would take him the short distance to Michaela’s home. He had no idea how Michaela felt,
but realizing he cared for her, he also knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. He hadn’t known how long these feelings had lain dormant in his heart, but he could never keep them from her, no matter what her response would be.
What had changed? Philip still wasn’t sure, but it seemed natural for them to be together. He wanted to spend the rest of his life making her happy, not because he felt sorry for her, but because he loved her.
The sun beat down on the dusty street, and Philip wasn’t sure if he was perspiring because of the heat or because of his nerves. He’d never thought twice about eating dinner with Aunt Clara and Michaela. In fact, it was something he did at least once a week, usually on Sundays. Aunt Clara was constantly reminding him that he needed more home-cooked meals instead of the fare he typically bought from one of the street vendors. After tonight, though, he knew things would never be the same.
Ten minutes later, he stopped and stood at the gate of Aunt Clara’s two-story home, fiddling with the paper wrapped around the small bouquet of flowers he’d brought for Michaela. The Victorian home stood on a street among other similar houses with their corbeled brick exteriors, round-arched windows, and decorative features. He had saved enough money in the past few years to build a house for the two of them near the sea, if that was what Michaela wanted.
“Philip?” Michaela poked her head out the front door.
“Michaela … hello … How are you?” He fumbled through the gate toward the porch where she stood. She looked beautiful in her plum-colored dress with its high collar. He offered her the flowers. “You look lovely tonight.”
“You’re always so thoughtful.” She brought the flowers close to her face and took in a deep breath. “Roses are my very favorite.”
Nervously, he followed her into the house. She turned and smiled at him, leaving his heart racing in anticipation.