A Heart Made for Love

by Linda Tillis

  “I’ll pass,” he snapped as he turned and left.

  Well, well, the woman thought to herself. Roxanne had been right. There was something scary about this one. Maybe the girl should have lit out for Texas, instead of Tallahassee.

  Hardwick stood in the cool night air, inhaling and exhaling deeply. Well, the little bird has taken care of itself and flown west. Good. One less thing to worry about.

  He reasoned he had at least eleven months to take care of the bigger problem. He would need to be a little more frugal and find a more affordable place to hole up for a while. If he handled it right, he would soon fade from everyone’s memory.

  Hardwick was picking up the morning papers at the newsstand in the lobby of the San Carlo. He looked at the clock above the front desk. From the corner of his eye, he observed the boy running through the front doors and waving an envelope. Ten o’clock, right on time. He had turned toward the stairs when the bellboy pointed him out to the runner.

  The young boy approached and said loudly, “Important telegram for you, sir.”

  Hardwick turned to the boy. The boy handed over the envelope and then stood with his hand out. Hardwick raised one eyebrow. The little snit had been paid the night before. The boy continued to stand there grinning, his hand still out. Hardwick reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a wallet. He peeled off one dollar and placed it in the little thief’s hand. The boy grabbed the dollar, saluted sharply, and then ran out the front doors.

  Hardwick made a show of sitting on the main sofa and slowly ripping open the envelope. After some moments, he stood and approached the desk. “I will need a taxi to the train station in an hour. I have received news and must leave for London. If you could have a car brought round, I’ll ring for the bellboy when I’m ready.”

  An hour and a half later, Hardwick had purchased a ticket for the two o’clock train to Jacksonville. He then exited through the rear of the station and walked a mile. After taking a second car to the docks, he got passage on a steamer to Miami. He was on the water, and on his way to a good hangover, by three in the afternoon.

  It was almost six in the evening before Captain Lance received a telegram.

  Hardwick was gone.

  ****

  Eleanor had just received Mae’s test scores from the college. Mae had passed all her business courses and her one English class with flying colors. Eleanor was running around like a madwoman, and as selfish as it sounded, she was glad to see the classes over until after Christmas. She was trying to get her orders out before the holiday, not to mention preparing for the small matter of a wedding.

  Mrs. Finch wanted to host the wedding at her home. She insisted on handling all the arrangements, which was a blessing from above. Garth would be coming for her at eleven to go to the manor and choose a suite for them. Eleanor’s life was about to change in ways she would never have anticipated. She was thrilled to be marrying a wonderful man whose children were a testament to his faith and his wisdom. The fact that the mere touch of his hand was like electricity to her was an unexpected but greatly appreciated bonus.

  Eleanor was sure most widows her age tried to put romance and physical love out of their minds. It was less painful to ignore it altogether than to acknowledge how much you missed it. She had forgotten what it was like to walk into a room, meet the eyes of the man you love, and feel an instant fire spark to life. She thanked the Lord every night for sending this man to her.

  The bell above the front door alerted Eleanor. She walked into the showroom expecting to see Garth but found instead a small, pretty, blonde girl.

  “Hello,” she greeted the newcomer with a smile. “Welcome to Taylor’s. Is there something I can help you with?”

  The girl smiled back. “To tell the truth, ma’am, I was walking by and saw all the beautiful hats in the window and just had to look closer. I hope you don’t mind. I mean, I can’t afford to buy anything, but they just looked so beautiful.”

  Eleanor could see the appreciation in the girl’s eyes. She remembered a time when she had loved the sight of beautiful fabrics and believed she could never afford such things. “Do you sew?”

  “Well, yes, ma’am, I do. I made this dress by hand, but never anything like these beautiful things,” replied the girl as she touched one finger to a feather.

  Eleanor took a long look at the girl. She was small, appeared to be about fifteen years old, and had a tight grip on an old, faded carpetbag. Her dress was a dove gray, cut from a simple pattern.

  The fit was good, and it did not have the appearance of a handmade garment. “Your dress is very well made, dear. Someone must have taken great care to teach you to sew. Your mother, perhaps?”

  The girl was stroking a piece of peacock blue silk. “No, ma’am. My ma passed on when I was four. My nana taught me to sew. We never got much past the basics, though. She passed on when I was twelve.”

  Eleanor smiled. “I’m sure your family has been grateful for your talent, then.”

  The girl withdrew her hand, smiled a bitter smile, and reddened as she said, “My pa and I had a partin’ of the ways as to which talent I should be usin’ to support him. So…I have been on my own ever since. Thank you, ma’am, for lettin’ me look.” The girl nodded to Eleanor and turned toward the door.

  “Wait, dear. Are you telling me you’ve been supporting yourself with your sewing?”

  The girl stiffened, turned to Eleanor, and snapped, “No, ma’am, ladies seldom want to have it known that a whore sewed their dresses. So I just make my own when I can.”

  Eleanor was stunned. This was a child, a talented one, but a child nonetheless. As the girl neared the door, Eleanor reached out to her. “Wait. Just wait a minute.”

  The girl paused. Eleanor pointed to a chair. “Sit a moment. I have some questions for you.”

  The girl raised one eyebrow and said, “Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am, but my life ain’t nobody’s business. I don’t need any of your Christian ‘holier than thou’ charity, either.”

  “Well, then, how about a job? Could you use one of those?” Eleanor snapped back.

  The girl gave Eleanor a long, unreadable stare. “I’m listenin’.”

  Eleanor let out a long sigh. “I apologize, dear, I wasn’t very diplomatic. I have no right to question you, but I do have a possible solution to your…needs.”

  She’d been about to say problem, but did not want to offend the girl any further. “Please, have a seat and let’s talk business.”

  The girl perched on the edge of a silk-covered chair, her back rigid and her eyes dark with anger.

  “All right, let’s start again. My name is Eleanor Taylor. I own this business. Before the business, I was a schoolteacher. I suddenly became a widow, with a young son to care for. I could not make ends meet on a teacher’s salary, but I did know how to sew. So I took a chance and some very dear ladies propped me up for a while, until the word got around. Now I have more business than I can handle alone. I have a young assistant, but she is about to embark on a new business of her own. I am going to need some help. I would, of course, need to see some samples of your work, but I think we could help each other.” Eleanor just sat back and waited.

  The girl looked at Eleanor for several long moments, as if she was coming to some momentous decision. “My name is…well, everyone just calls me Roxanne. Like I said, I don’t have nobody besides me to care for. I do know how to sew. I reckon there’s a bunch I don’t know about it, from the looks of the beautiful bits here, but I’m a fast learner. I just got into town a few days ago, and I ain’t found a…proper place to stay yet. How much do you think you could pay me?”

  Before Eleanor could answer, the door opened and Garth stepped in, smiling. “Good morning, ladies. Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

  Eleanor stood, returning his smile. “Good morning, Mr. Hinton. I was just interviewing a possible replacement for Mae. I think she may be a perfect fit for Mae’s village.”

  Garth turned to the girl. “Well, we�
�re headed out there, so if she needs a ride…” He let the invitation speak for itself.

  Roxanne’s demeanor lit up like the morning sun had just risen. “Why, thank you, sir, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

  Eleanor almost laughed out loud. She’d never seen such a quick transformation. It was time to nip this in the bud.

  She smiled at Roxanne. “Mr. Hinton is my assistant’s father, and my fiancé. We’ll be getting married Christmas Eve.”

  Roxanne looked into Eleanor’s eyes and recognized the humorous warning. She smiled her acceptance and said, “How wonderful.”

  It didn’t take Eleanor long to close up the shop, and then they were on their way.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Roxanne sat in the back seat of the motorcar. She had never seen the inside of one before. The seats were covered in leather, and the interior was lined with polished wood. She only half listened to the conversation in the front seat. She wondered what in the heck she had walked into.

  They seemed like nice folks, but it had been her experience that “nice” folks had agendas of their own when they extended help to her kind. She’d give them what-for in a hurry if they tried to put something over on her.

  She became aware the vehicle had left the main road and was traveling down a tree-lined lane. There were cleared and fenced fields as far as the eye could see. Then she saw the…house? You couldn’t call that huge thing a house. Roxanne sat forward and peered through the glass as the vehicle made the circle in front. The front door opened, and a beautiful, smiling young woman stepped out. She had on a blouse so white it almost hurt Roxanne’s eyes. Her skirt was dark blue serge and split like a riding outfit, but it completely covered her black boots. Her dark hair was pulled back and tied with a white ribbon. When she turned, you could see waves all the way to her waist.

  Roxanne realized she was staring and felt like a complete fool. She opened the door and stepped out. The beauty was speaking to the man. Even her voice was attractive.

  “Papa, you missed the first load of lumber! I’m so excited. It is really happening. Samuel took the trucks down to the site, to unload them under the temporary shelters… Oh, we have company,” she sputtered as Roxanne walked around the back of the motorcar and into view. “Hello, my name is Mae. Welcome to our home.” Mae extended her hand, and Roxanne took it.

  She was still standing there in awe when Eleanor spoke. “Mae, this is Roxanne. She made the dress she is wearing, and I think we just might have found your replacement.”

  “Oh, how wonderful! Well, come in, and we can have some tea, and you can tell me all about it.”

  The next few minutes were just a blur. Before Roxanne could protest, she was sitting in a beautiful room, holding a plate with a heavenly roast beef sandwich, and sipping lemonade.

  Mae apologized. “Please excuse my poor manners, but I was starving. I missed lunch because the trucks arrived, and I was too excited to eat. Martha makes the best sandwiches in the world, and Mrs. Peters made cobbler this morning, so we have to have some or her feelings will be hurt.” Mae smiled as she picked up her sandwich.

  Roxanne looked around as she ate. She guessed this was the parlor. The room was bigger than most houses she’d ever been in. The furnishings were soft and covered in fabrics she had never seen before. She could see a small lake through the glass doors.

  There were pots of roses, all pinks and reds, surrounding a porch. Roxanne finished her sandwich and then carefully set the plate down on the table next to her. It was the most she had eaten in three days. She’d been saving her money for a room.

  Mae took one last swallow of lemonade, wiped her mouth, and smiled at Roxanne. “Roxanne, I am so happy you have come to us. I am working on a project to help young women like you. Women who find themselves in less than satisfactory circumstances—ones who, through no fault of their own, are unable to care for themselves.”

  Roxanne had started to burn from the moment the word “project” spewed from Mae’s mouth, and the anger just grew. What in the world did this pampered, beautiful woman know about “less than satisfactory” circumstances? Yep, she was another do-gooder who had no real knowledge of the world. Probably born into all this money and never had to get her hands dirty in her life. Mae had stopped speaking, and she and Eleanor were looking at Roxanne.

  Roxanne realized she had missed the last of the speech, but it didn’t matter.

  She stood, grabbed her carpetbag, and snapped, “Well, ma’am, the sandwich was real good, and it was a pretty good speech. But as I told her”—she gestured toward Eleanor—“I’m not some charity case for you to squander time on. I can take care of meself, and I’ll just be off now.” Roxanne had taken about three steps toward the door before Mae understood what was happening.

  Eleanor had recognized the look on the girl’s face even before she’d opened her mouth. Mae was about to be faced with the reality of her dream. It was a wonderful dream, but sometimes people just would not accept help.

  Eleanor snapped, “All right, young lady, just stop right there.” Roxanne and Mae both froze. “This is not my problem. Mae, I can always find someone to help me sew. But, if you intend to move forward, this is going to be your first step. I’m going to find your father now, so you’re on your own.” She turned to Roxanne. “And you, little miss, had better not be foolish enough to lose the best chance at a decent life you’ve come across in years, just because of an overabundance of pride.” And with a hard look at both girls, she left the parlor, closing the door firmly behind her.

  Mae understood perfectly what had just happened. Eleanor had left so Mae could step into the role of leader and find out if she was really cut out for this project she had taken on. Mae closed her eyes, took a deep breath, asked the Lord for guidance, and exhaled slowly.

  “Why don’t we start over? Would you please have a seat, and let’s take a few moments to get to know one another? If you still want to leave, then my papa will take you back into town.”

  Roxanne stared out the French doors for several moments. She looked back at Mae and with a slight smile said, “Well, I’d hate to offend that lady, ’cause I didn’t try the cobbler.”

  Mae burst out laughing and answered, “I promise we will try the cobbler later. Now, let me try again to explain what I have in mind. I’m going to build a village. There will be a few houses built around a central community building. In this building we will educate and train women—young women, old women, any woman who wants to learn how to take care of herself. Some of these women may have children. We will educate the children, too. I want to teach the women crafts they can sell in a store I will build for them. They’ll have a communal garden. It will be a place where they can learn to build up themselves and support each other.” Mae stopped. She flushed a light pink. “I hope I don’t sound like a pompous blowhard. This is the first time I’ve told my plans to anyone outside of my immediate family and circle of friends.”

  Roxanne wasn’t sure what to say. It sounded like a good plan. She certainly didn’t look forward to another back room in another shabby hotel. She never let herself wallow in some make-believe dream, where some man would take her away from all this. Hell, it was a man who’d sold her into this life. If anyone was ever going to get her out of it, it was going to be herself.

  She looked at Mae now and said the first thing that came to mind. “Why? Why would you do all this? Why would you care about what happens to a bunch of prostitutes?”

  Mae spoke softly. “If it would not be too painful, tell me a little about yourself, and then I’ll try to explain my reasoning.”

  Roxanne had never had a friend. She had never talked about her life with anyone.

  She wasn’t sure why she could talk to this woman. She didn’t feel like Mae would judge her, but for some reason she didn’t want this woman to pity her, either. For so long, in her mind, she had kept herself separate from the reality of it all. She wasn’t sure she wanted to knock the dust off it now. She looked
at Mae. There was real interest. Not ugly curiosity, not pious disdain, just an interest in another human being. And so she spoke.

  “I was born in a little town in Kentucky, just across the river from Williamson, West Virginia. You know, coal country. Everything is black from the dust. Maybe not at first, but the older anything gets, the darker it becomes from the coal dust. Maybe even people’s hearts, and certainly their lungs. My mama died when I was four. I don’t even have a faded memory of her. Then there was my nana. I don’t remember a lot about my pa in the early years, just my nana. She taught me to sew. And she told me the things a girl is supposed to know. She sensed I was gonna sprout early, as she called it. That happened when I was eleven.”

  “About that time, my pa started staying around more. He worked in the mines most all his life, but he got the black lung and wasn’t doin’ so well. And then one mornin’ my nana just died. Just keeled over in the kitchen. And then it was just Pa and me. Pa took to buying me dresses. Not little-girl dresses. He would dress me up and take me to town on a Saturday night. And all the men would look at me like I was a piece of candy. I hated it. Pa started talking about how if I played my cards right, we could both have an easy life. All I had to do was be friendly with some of the men at the hall.

  “I wasn’t sure exactly how that was supposed to get us an easy life. And then one Saturday night Pa was real drunk. When we got home, he said seein’ as how I was gonna give it to somebody sooner or later, I might as well give it to him. I fought him like a wild animal. I managed to get away from him and hide in the woods the rest of the night, till he sobered up the next morning. And when he did, he reckoned he’d almost broke the one thing he had to sell. Me.”

  Mae was very still. She sensed this was something Roxanne had never talked about before. Quite possibly she’d never even remembered it until this moment. She knew the girl was unaware of the tears, spilling from those blue eyes.