She would be a fantastic curator.
He washed a smear of jelly from his finger and switched off the kitchen light. Resting his hand on the window frame, he stared at the glimmer around the closed curtain in her bedroom. The curtain was heavy, so he couldn’t see anything except that fringe of light. He pictured her curled up on her bed, all bundled up in her heavy rose pink bathrobe and fuzzy pink slippers, her fingers flying on her laptop as she searched for jobs that would take her away from him. If she didn’t get the job in Dallas.
“Father, don’t let her go without me.”
Don’t make her want to leave.
Chance smiled ruefully. That still small voice in his mind was about as close as he’d ever come to getting a direct order from the Almighty to apologize.
He had some fences to mend, but he wanted to wait until he could fill her in on Aidan and Margaret’s relationship. Maybe not too many details but the general scoop.
That meant he had to finish reading the story. Sighing, he went back to the living room, settled in the recliner, and picked up the diary.
On the afternoon of February 15, Miss Olivia died sud-ebook. denly. Some ladies from the church and the undertaker tended to the body. Another lady stayed with Margaret for a while, then left her alone as she requested. Overwhelmed by the loss of her friend, she poured out her grief in the diary, desperate to send for Aidan but not daring to, afraid that people would find out.
Chance wondered how they’d kept his visits secret. Maybe they hadn’t worried about it too much since he had always dropped by during the daytime. Chance supposed that being there in the evening or at night would have put a whole different slant on things. The clothesline chatter wouldn’t have been any different back then.
Margaret didn’t send for him, but he came anyway.
February 16. My dearest Aidan came to comfort me last night. When he heard about Miss Olivia, he knew the depth of my grief and rushed to my side. How much easier it was to bear the pain with his arms around me.
Chance groaned softly. He had a bad feeling about where this was going.
Aidan’s strength sustained me; his tenderness comforted my aching heart. He held me throughout the night, his kisses and gentle loving brought joy to my withered soul and body.
But my beloved left me before the light of day, slipping away in the shadow of darkness. I rejoice in his love, yet I am heartbroken because he will never be mine. What I yearned for has happened, but the victory is bittersweet. I am his Maggie, a name he alone has called me. Yet, I am not truly his.
Before he went out the door, I asked him to choose 259 between me and Clara. I will not be his mistress, though I would most willingly be his wife. He did not answer. He did not need to. The shame in his eyes said it for him.
There was only one more entry.
February 23. Kenneth arrives home today. May God forgive me of my sin and in his mercy never let my husband learn of my infidelity.
If I were wise, I would burn this account and the two letters from Aidan. I would throw away the lock of hair I so carefully trimmed while he slept. I would destroy the painting of him that came from my heart.
But I am not wise. I cannot let go of these precious memories and the deep love I hold for Aidan Callahan. I shall conceal these moments of my life and the yearnings of my soul in the beautiful box Miss Olivia left me. I will hide it away in a safe place where I can take it out from time to time and remember. As if I could ever forget.
Chance sat there, dumbfounded by his compassion for Margaret. She had led Aidan astray. He should despise her. But he didn’t. He didn’t much like her, but he didn’t loathe her. She hadn’t been a wicked woman who set out to have an affair or steal someone else’s husband. She had been lonely and unhappy, beaten down by loss, criticism, and rejection. Aidan’s concern and kindness must have been a balm to her wounded heart and soul. How could she not fall in love with him?
But he sympathized much more with Grandpa Aidan. Despite his strong morals and deeply held Christian convictions, 260 Aidan had been caught in a web of seduction. He had been lured by his inclination to be a good friend, to give support and comfort to a young, beautiful, but troubled woman.
From the beginning there had been an undercurrent of sexual attraction. Margaret had felt it. Chance figured Aidan had too. That’s why he’d stayed on the porch during the first visit. At times Aidan had tried to control it, even as Margaret tried to stir it up. Or so it seemed. But he couldn’t stay away from her, and that was his downfall. He broke the most sacred of vows.
How that must have hurt him! To a man who put his principles right up there with his love for Christ, knowing he had sinned in such a way must have been devastating. Chance could imagine what he had felt like – distraught, burdened with guilt, shattered – because that was the way he would feel.
In the Psalms, David cried out to God, begging him not to hide his face. Had Aidan felt as if God had turned away from him that morning? Had he gone home and fallen on his face before the Lord, begging forgiveness and mercy?
He must have. He had stayed with Clara and his family, and from all accounts they had been happy. Still, he must have loved Maggie too. He had gone to comfort her that last night. Chance would never believe that he had arrived there with the intention of sleeping with her.
Chance closed the journal and set it on the table. He picked up Aidan’s second letter and carefully eased the edge of the flap from beneath the body of the envelope. Drawing a deep breath, he took out the letter and unfolded the paper. It was dated February 16.
My dearest Maggie. I do not understand how I can love both you and Clara, but I do. If we were each not already married to someone else, it would be a privi-ebook. lege to have you as my wife. But that is not a choice we have. We are bound by vows before God, and I intend to honor that vow to Clara for the rest of my days.
I beg your forgiveness – and God’s – for last night. I only meant to comfort you, not take advantage of your distress. I am deeply ashamed of my behavior, my lapse in morals. May God in his mercy forgive us of our sin. For it was sin, my dearest, in the eyes of God and the eyes of man. May our Lord heal the wounds I have caused you, which I fear are deep. May he lead us both back onto the path of righteousness.
Forgive me for abandoning you during your time of grief, but we cannot – we must not – see each other again. You will always hold a piece of my heart, Maggie. But there can be nothing more between us.
I have wired Kenneth, advising him of Miss Olivia’s death, telling him that you need him here. He is returning as soon as he can make the train connections. He does love you, my dear. He, too, lost his way for a while, but if you will allow him, he will make amends. I pray you will make amends to him too, in the right way. Soften your heart toward him.
No good will come from Clara or Kenneth learning of our relationship and particularly our transgression. It would only hurt them deeply. Your heart is too kind and loving to want that.
May God have mercy on us all. Aidan
Chance folded the letter and slid it back in the envelope. He set it on the table, leaned back in the recliner, and wiped the tears from his cheeks with his shirtsleeve. Grandpa Aidan had sinned, but he had turned away from that sin and found forgiveness. There was no way to know if he ever confessed his infidelity to Clara. If he did, no one in the family ever knew about it. Or at least they never mentioned it.
Forgiveness after repentance was a promise that God always kept. He didn’t have to show people in tangible ways that it was true. But in Aidan’s case, he had. God continued to bless him with domestic happiness and material wealth. The ranch had provided for the family even when times were bad, and in 1923, oil was discovered on a portion of their land. The blessing continued from generation to generation.
Margaret had been forgiven and blessed too. Two years later, God had given them a daughter who was the light of their lives. Margaret and Kenneth had remained married for over forty years, and happily so, acc
ording to Miss Sally. He had also given them great material wealth.
Chance wasn’t sure of all the reasons God had allowed Aidan and Margaret’s story to come to light. He knew without a doubt that it was to go no further, except to briefly share it with Emily.
It had been a test to see how he would react, both to what happened so long ago and to Emily’s involvement in discovering it. He had flunked on both counts. He’d judged Aidan and Margaret, condemning them before he knew the facts.
He’d quickly reversed course regarding Aidan, but it had taken him longer with Margaret. Easier to blame someone with whom he had no ties than someone with whom he did. God had shown him once again that he had a critical and holier-than-thou attitude. Righteous indignation really wasn’t righteous unless the problem was dealt with in love. He’d been trying to work on that, but evidently he hadn’t been too successful.
He’d also failed by being angry and cross with Emily. Definitely not the way to win her heart. He should have been thankful that she’d turned to him alone and sought his advice. Honored that she had trusted him not only with Aidan’s secret but hers too.
Changing an attitude, particularly one he hadn’t realized he had until recently, evidently would take time. But making amends, as Aidan so aptly put it, with Emily couldn’t wait.
22
Emily checked the caller ID and answered her cell phone with cautious hope that Chance wasn’t still mad at her. She didn’t really blame him for being upset. But it had hurt.
“Hi, darlin’. I’m sorry I was a jerk earlier. Will you forgive me?”
It was amazing how those words took away the sting. “Of course. I know I dumped this problem on you, but I didn’t know where else to turn. I’m sorry it hurt you.”
“It’s all right. After I sorted it all out, I decided having you turn to me was a compliment. I like knowing you trusted me to resolve it.”
“Good.” She sighed in relief. “Did you decide what to do with it?”
“I’m going to burn the journal and letters tomorrow.”
“So it wasn’t as I’d hoped, merely a young woman’s fascination with an older, powerful man. But you don’t have to give me the details,” she added quickly.
“Actually, I think it might help to share the nutshell version. I know you won’t say anything to anyone.”
His trust told her how much he cared for her. Emily swallowed hard. “I appreciate that.”
As he briefly told her what happened, she found herself sympathizing with both Aidan and Margaret. Aidan was an upright man who probably thought he could never be tempted in such a way. It was so unexpected, he was drawn in before he realized what was happening. She understood Margaret’s situation because she knew how it was to have someone close who did not care for her, who was ashamed of her. In Emily’s case, it was her father. It would be worse to have a husband’s love grow cold, especially if she loved him.
When he finished the story, she considered how things had turned out. “So they received God’s mercy. He kept Aidan and Clara’s marriage sound and restored Margaret and Kenneth’s.”
“Yes. I don’t think anyone else ever knew about their affair. I don’t think anyone else should learn of it now.”
“I agree.” Emily pulled her pillow higher behind her back. “But I have a lot more peace with you making that decision than I would if I’d done it. Thank you, Chance.”
“You’re welcome. You were right. It wasn’t your call. I sure wish Margaret or Sally had tossed all the incriminating evidence decades ago.”
“Do you think Sally knew about it?”
“Probably. She had a troubled expression once after she mentioned the journals. Looking back on it, I think she was wondering whether or not she was doing the right thing by leaving her mother’s diary to posterity. I may be jumping to a big conclusion, but I remember it clearly because it struck me as being odd.”
“What about the portrait and locket? What should we do with them?”
“I’ll take the hair out of the locket and put the necklace back in the box. Then you can put them in the museum if you want. I guess I’ll burn the picture too. If I keep it, someone in the family might see it and wonder where I got it.”
“I’d like to have it.” Emily grimaced, closing her eyes at her stupidity. How had that slipped out?
“Why?” His voice held a hint of caution.
In for a penny, in for a pound.
“Because you’ll look like that in fifteen to twenty years. I’d like to keep it to remind me of you.” She stifled a groan. Had she really said that?
“Sweetheart, you won’t need it to remind you of me. I plan on doing that personally every day – fifteen, twenty, fifty years from now.”
Why did that sound so good? Emily’s heart pounded so hard, she was sure he could hear it. Get a grip. Don’t lose sight of the plan and your goal.
But was it really her goal? Drat the man. She’d never questioned what she’d set out to accomplish until she met Chance. She really needed to set him straight once and for all. Unfortunately, her brain and mouth had stopped working. A sassy comeback was beyond her.
When she didn’t say anything, he sighed quietly. “Besides, I’d rather you have a picture of the real me. One where I’m young and full of vim and vigor.”
Though she would cherish a picture, it was a very poor substitute for the man. When she answered, it came out all croaky. “I’d like that.”
“Em, are you all right?”
She cleared her throat, but the frog seemed to have settled in for the night. Probably had something to do with the tears 267 burning her eyes. “I need to go get something to drink.” She glanced at the glass of water on the nightstand and felt a twinge of guilt. “Something bubbly.”
“Emily Rose . . .”
Why had her name never sounded beautiful until he said it? At the tenderness in his voice, the tears rolled down her cheeks. “Yes?”
He hesitated, then took a deep, audible breath and released it slowly. “Sleep tight, darlin’. No worries about Aidan. About anything.”
“All right. Good night.”
“Night.”
Emily shut off the phone and set it on the nightstand. Burying her face in a spare pillow, she wept for what she could not have. For what she would not let herself have.
Around 4:00 the next afternoon, Chance drove by the Bradley-Tucker House. Emily’s van was the only vehicle still there. He parked his truck and walked up the back steps. After knocking on the door, he opened it and stuck his head inside. The kitchen was empty. He walked in, closing the door behind him.
“Emily . . . where are you?” he called.
“Back here. In the parlor.”
He went down the hall, smiling when he saw her sitting on a settee in the ornately decorated room. “What’s this? Did I actually catch you being lazy?”
“I’m thinking.” She smiled up at him and patted the seat beside her. When he sat down, she continued. “I’m imagin-ebook. ing what it would have been like, say around 1906, when someone came to call.”
“They’d have tea and scalloped edged lemon cakes.”
She sent him a quizzical glance. “You sound sure of that.”
“It’s what Margaret served Aidan the second time he came by.”
“Lemon cakes. That probably means cookies.” A light frown creased her brow. “I would have thought he was more of a coffee man. Tea doesn’t fit.”
Chance chuckled and draped his arm across the back of the settee. “That’s what I figured too. I have the box and locket out in the pickup. Shall we return it to the attic?”
“Yes. I’m not going to put it where it was. That would make people wonder why it was so well hidden. I think a trunk is a better place.”
“I’ll go get it.” He hurried out to the truck, retrieved the box, and carried it into the parlor. “It really is beautiful workmanship.” Too bad every time he saw it, he’d think of what had been inside it. He took the key from his shirt
pocket. “Guess you need this too. I locked it so the lid would stay closed.”
“I’ll put the key back in the lady’s desk where it was.” Emily tucked it away in the drawer. “Shall we go up to the attic?”
“Lead the way. I’ll carry the box if you want.”
She handed it to him with a smile. “Jinx came by this morning. He brought some Confederate Civil War memorabilia that belonged to one of his ancestors. A pistol, sword, and some pictures. He said he has a uniform and a Rebel flag in a trunk somewhere, but he’ll have to dig it out.”
“You’ll be able to incorporate that into a display, won’t you?” He walked beside her up the stairs, past the second floor landing and on up to the attic.
“I’m sure I can. It may not be very big, but then again, I’ve discovered that people have all sorts of things hidden away in sheds and barns. More Civil War items may show up.” She flipped the light switch at the top of the stairs and opened the attic door. “Or attics.”
“It’s a lot easier to navigate up here with the lights on.” He followed her down the middle aisle until she stopped beside a large trunk. He glanced around. Everything looked neat and tidy. “I thought you moved some boxes out of the way when you recovered this.”
“I did. They’re in that stack over there. I put everything back so nobody would ask why I’d moved them all in the first place.” She opened the trunk and held out her hands for the box. He gave it to her, and she nestled it carefully amidst some lace tablecloths. She closed the trunk and straightened. “Do you want to look around?”
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