“I heard the East Tooms Railway project has been put on hold. The mayor says he will review the plans because of the protests over the destruction of the neighborhood.”
Thomas nodded, running a hand through his hair. “It was never sure, but I am glad the mayor has seen the tragedy it would have been for the poor who live there. The plans can be changed, revised. I am confident we can find a solution that everyone is happy with.”
“Are you in very much pain?” Allie reached out to touch his shoulder very gently.
Again, the question of pain. He wanted to lie and say he was fine, but the recovery was very slow. At least he had finally been allowed out of his room. He was very thankful to hear that Marco had recovered much faster. “Only when I put any weight on it. God is good. The injury could have been much worse, even fatal. I hope to return to the barn next week, even if it is with a cane.”
Allie nodded, her bright eyes serious. “I know from experience that if you attempt too much too quickly, the recovery will be longer. So be quite sure before you return, that you are not doing damage to your leg.”
“I agree. And the men who work for me are very competent. Any questions they have, they run over by messenger. But it is strange to examine a horse at a distance.”
She laughed, a soft sound that made a warmth spread through his chest. How he wished he could bring her down to him, wrap his arms around her. Thomas looked at the basket of cookies and tried to focus. He promised her time, and the last thing he wanted to do was force her.
****
Allie’s gaze swept Thomas’s pale face. His dear features were so familiar, but the suffering had marked him with subtle shadows around the eyes, a certain tightening of the mouth. She struggled not to stare at the leg, wrapped and supported on cushions. Was it really just a bruise? Dr. Barrows was more than competent but it was nearly impossible to know for sure. There might be a slight break, or an injury to the muscle that would only grow worse with time. Allie felt her chest squeeze tight with the image of Thomas, strong and vital, reduced to a cripple, watching life from a settee.
“I’m sure you will be back to work in no time at all. Janey sends her love. She was very adamant that I give you this.” Allie handed over a small piece of sketching paper. Janey’s bright smile shone, her eyes seemed to twinkle straight out of the charcoal lines. “She went into my attic studio, commandeered some paper and charcoal stubs, and demanded I draw her likeness. She said it was the only thing that would you cheer you up.”
Thomas examined the little face, his smile holding something she couldn’t quite place. Finally he said, “She was right.”
Allie wished for just a moment that Janey was wrong, that Allie’s visit would also have cheered him, but she knew how he felt. Something about that little girl’s absolute confidence in herself was better than anything. She couldn’t help grinning at the memory of being commanded so severely. And the feeling of the pencil in her fingers, the quick movements of her hand, and the light dusting of charcoal was like a tonic. After she was finished, Janey was thrilled and Allie felt as if a wound had been bound up.
“How is the oak?”
“Mr. Ransom brought out an arborist but it can’t be saved. The roof will be fine, though.”
“Which is important, I suppose.” His tone was even but his lips twitched.
“So everyone says.” Allie tried not to laugh. Returning from lunch with Sarah and discovering an enormous tree limb had crashed through her bedroom wasn’t anything to chuckle about. But it was just a room, and the oak was... irreplaceable. “Perhaps it’s for the best.”
She saw his brows jerk up in surprise. “How so?”
She regarded her hands for a moment. “I was praying.” She felt her face flush a little but hurried on. “For you and the people I left back in San Francisco. So much pain and tragedy, but it’s different when you’re not alone. When you can rest in the truth that in spite of it all, there is a plan to prosper you. It suddenly seemed to me that the oak was a sort of symbol.” She glanced up at him, gauging his response.
Thomas said nothing and waited, listening.
“The oak, it’s hard to explain what it means to me, what it meant to find your treasures in it... But now it’s gone. And it doesn’t mean that there won’t be more blessings in the future. Just different ones.”
“For everything a time and purpose under heaven,” Thomas said, nodding.
“That’s right.” She looked at him, her gaze earnest.
“You have some peace now, about the fire?” He asked her very softly, as if saying the words too loudly might break the spell.
“I do.” She let the words out in a rush, a smile spreading over her face. “I’m still sad, still a little angry. I’m not sure what this means for me right now, for my painting. But what I said, about marrying and getting on with life, I see that’s not the right path for me.”
She stopped speaking as her throat constricted. How many months had she been convincing herself she had to find a husband to support her and Janey? How long had she tried to conceal her weaknesses because she was afraid? She had pushed away the One who could give her strength and relied on the one who could offer nothing but uncertainty. She glanced up at him, blinking back the tears, and saw mirrors to her own. His dark eyes were soft with awe. He opened his mouth, but seemed to be lost for words. His mother looked up at them, then stood with one movement.
“Thomas needs his rest. I’m sure you understand.”
Allie got to her feet, letting go of Thomas’s hand. His mother must think she only came to disturb his peace. Why hadn’t she kept to polite conversation? The poor man was struggling with his own trials. He didn’t need to hear about her change of heart, her uncertainty. The look on his face said it all. The conversation had been too much. She should have left it for another time. She smiled softly at him and said, “Get better very soon and you both must come to dinner on Sunday”
His mother inclined her head, eyes still wary. “Thank you. We will come if Thomas is better.”
Allie swiftly left the room, following the maid to the door.
****
“Mother, she didn’t do anything to upset me. It was wonderful news, actually”
She laid a hand on his forehead. “Was it? Strange how that girl seems to bring you to tears more often than not.”
He couldn’t keep back a laugh, shaking his head. “It might seem like that, but she was telling me that she is at peace, she is finished arguing with God.”
His mother rolled her eyes. “Arguing with God? Good heavens. I suppose you can’t say the girl doesn’t have pluck.”
****
“We had a lovely dinner, thank you,” Mrs. Bradford said, allowing Mary to help her into the fur-trimmed black coat by.
“We were very pleased to have you. You and Thomas must come again.” Mrs. Leeds inclined her head, silver broach sparkling at her throat. Allie wondered if she had taken extra care dressing for dinner. Thomas was a regular guest over the years, but his mother had never accepted an invitation until now. The two women had been wary, but polite.
Thomas was too sore to attend dinner the Sunday directly after the accident, but no more than a week had gone by before they both had accepted. He still struggled to walk, even leaning heavily on his cane, but the roast chicken was delicious and the conversation was inspiring. Janey had been taken to bed directly after the desert, with just a slight protest, and a few too many hugs for Thomas.
“I brought you something,” Thomas said softly.
Allie glanced at Thomas’s face, then her eyes skimmed down his fine suit, taking in his cane and hat. “I can’t imagine what it is. Have you had it in your pocket all the way through dinner?”
Thomas laughed, a sound that made Allie’s heart lose its rhythm. “Not in my pocket, no. I left it with Mrs. Gibson.”
Allie shot him a quizzical look. “Should I go see it now?”
“No, better to wait until later. After your mother has g
one to bed.”
Her eyebrows rose higher with those words but she kept her tone light. “How very odd. My curiosity is piqued.”
“Just remember all the time I was forced to stay off this leg,” he said, his lips quirked up in the half smile that always made her think he was up to no good.
“My imagination is running away with me.” She couldn’t help laughing a little. It was like being teased on Christmas with a pretty present that made odd rattling noises.
“Thomas, dear, the wind is growing fierce. We should hurry home.” His mother watched them with a careful eye, but if Allie wasn’t mistaken, she had warmed up to Allie since the last time they had spoken. Allie hoped that they could be friends, whatever happened. Mrs. Bradford was a strong woman who loved her son, and was proud of him. Allie wished she had made her mother as proud.
He shrugged into his coat and reached for his hat. “I hope you like it,” he said, his eyes suddenly serious.
Mrs. Gibson showed them out and Allie heard the sound of Thomas’s automobile starting in the driveway.
“It is so odd for a veterinarian to drive an automobile,” her mother mused. “And I cannot keep my eyes open another minute” She reached out to give Allie a kiss on the cheek, then paused to fix a glance on her face. “That went well, I believe.”
Allie knew what her mother was saying and she almost grinned. In just a few words she was hinting at a future connected to the Bradfords. “Yes, I think it did.”
As soon as her mother disappeared upstairs, Allie headed for the kitchen.
“Mr. Bradford left this for you, dear.” Mrs. Gibson pointed to a large square object leaning against the far wall.
Allie knew immediately it was a painting and her heart sank. Did he find one of her portraits and buy it from the owner? He might think she could sell it and use the money. But she didn’t think she could face her work from that time in her life, no matter how striking. Her whole life had changed; she had changed. When the day came― and it was coming soon― that she was able to pour her heart out onto a canvas, she was sure it would not be to paint some spoiled socialite’s portrait.
Thoroughly confused, Allie crossed to the painting and picked it up with unsteady hands. What met her gaze caused her heart to swell in her chest. Janey’s painting, framed in warm oak, brightened the kitchen like a ray of sunlight.
“Well, isn’t that pretty! And such a nice frame.” Mrs. Gibson moved to stand over Allies shoulder, admiring the gift. “There’s a note that goes with it.”
Allie turned and took the slip of paper. Her fingers trembled but she didn’t try to hide it.
Dear Allie,
I asked Mr. Ransom for a bit of the old oak. I thought it would make a fitting frame for Janey’s family portrait.
With Love,
Thomas
“Well, now, that’s a fine frame. I never knew he was a carpenter, too.” Mrs. Gibson broke off and reached out to take the painting from Allie.
“I didn’t either.” Allie passed the frame to Mrs. Gibson and examined the paper. A fitting frame. Fitting because it was a symbol of their past, holding Janey’s brightest wish for the future?
She pressed one hand to her mouth, struggling to keep her tears in check. Was it possible? Could they really have a second chance, after all the missteps and wrong turns?
“Now, there, there.” The painting went back to its place by the wall and Mrs. Gibson enveloped Allie in a warm embrace. The soft scent of rose water only made Allie cry harder. She didn’t deserve to have Mrs. Gibson or Thomas or even Mama have such faith in her. She had spent months refusing to speak to God. And all she had been given in return was blessings, hope, and now love. Thomas was offering his heart, and himself as a father to Janey.
She choked back a hiccup. “I am sorry. It is just― I have done nothing to earn such a man.”
“Oh, dearie,” Mrs. Gibson said, patting Allie’s back and laughing. Her apron-front smelled like vanilla and gingerbread cookies. “None of us can earn love, can we now?”
Allie took a shuddering breath and stepped back. She scrubbed the tears from her face with the back of her hand. “You’re right. As always.” She attempted a watery smile and looked at the note in her hand, a little rumpled from being in the middle of a tear-filled hug.
“So, when do we start planning the wedding?” The cook clapped her hands together in a business-like manner and looked ready to start that moment.
“We haven’t even... I mean to say, there has been no understanding between us.” Allie felt her cheeks go scarlet but she couldn’t help grinning.
“Details, my dear,” Mrs. Gibson said and wrapped Allie in one more hug. “I’m so happy for you,” she whispered.
“So am I.” And for that moment, in the soft arms of her childhood cook, Allie had never felt more hopeful for the future. The possibilities were endless. She gave her a final squeeze and stood back. “But this painting is going to have to stay somewhere until it can find a permanent home.”
Mrs. Gibson’s kind face wrinkled with a frown. “Ah, true. Well, let’s leave it in the pantry for now. We’ll figure something out in the morning.”
Allie nodded, and folded the note. She was going to keep the paper close, re reading and praying over the words.
Thank You, for Your faithfulness. It was a simple prayer. But the words came from a place inside that Allie had neglected for a very long time.
Chapter Sixteen
“So wonderful to see you back at work, sir,” Mr. Cole said, reaching out a hand to Thomas. His lined face showed his delight, and Thomas felt the truth of his words in his handshake.
“Good to be back, Mr. Cole.” He stood for a moment near the door of the barn, surveying the rough wooden floor. The long troughs in the floor had been recently sluiced with water and fresh straw was scattered around and bundled in the stalls. The wooden shutters were open to the winter air and Thomas took in a deep breath. He was meant to be here. He gave a quick prayer of thanks and limped toward the first stall where Marco and Mateo stood waiting.
Mateo looked up from hitching an American Saddle Bred mare to the wall. She turned her small head and regarded Thomas with large, expressive eyes.
“Marco, how are you?” Thomas laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder. He seemed well, but that moment before the accident haunted Thomas in the quiet hours of the night.
“I am good, sir.” He looked shyly up at his boss. “Thank you. You save me.”
Thomas shook his head, heart dropping. “Oh, Marco. It was my fault. I was distracted.” It was such a stupid mistake. How could he hope to keep his wits about him if she accepted his hand?
“I am glad you decide to come back,” Mateo said, pretending to grumble as he collected the brushes and instruments.
Thomas grinned. “You didn’t have any fun while I was away?”
“Oh, yes, that is what we had. Fun!” He parked his fists on his hips, strong arms akimbo and glared. “I tell the drivers that you are not here. They say I can check the horses. So I try.”
“And?” He could hardly contain his laughter. Mateo was not a man to be laughed at, but this display of temper was making Thomas feel better than any of Dr. Barrows’s medicine. Marco’s eyes were wide as he watched his uncle’s temper rise.
“It seem like every horse heard you were gone. Maybe they have a meeting. Nobody wants to lift a hoof, nobody wants to open the mouth.” He kicked a clump of alfalfa and shook his head. “I never had such a long week. And when I see Cole bring the mayor’s stallion in today, I almost take a day off to be sick.”
Thomas’s grin faded away. “Mr. Cole brought in the mayor’s black stallion? Whatever for?” He searched the barn and sure enough, Cole stood a good distance from the giant animal.
Mateo shrugged. “The mayor give it to Mrs. Leeds. Is a gift.”
His mind worked furiously, trying to make sense of the information. “Just a moment, Mateo.” He gripped his cane and made his way across the barn, pausing to le
t the carriage boys by with their piles of saddle blankets. Cole saw him coming and met him in the middle of the barn.
“Mr. Cole, does this horse belong to Mrs. Leeds now?”
“Aye, it does.” Cole glanced behind him and pushed his hat back on his head. “I tried to tell her that he was no good for carriage work. Or for riding. Or for naught but stud work. But she did not listen.”
Thomas stared across the barn. The huge beast lifted his hooves and twitched his mane. “But why would he give him to Mrs. Leeds?” It really made no sense.
“I hear it was Miss Louise that told him so. She had a bad turn with him one day when she was out riding, and has hated him ever since. She told the mayor that I could handle him.”
Thomas raised his eyebrows at Cole, not wishing to point out the obvious.
“I agree, Mr. Bradford, I agree.” Cole rubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t know what made her say that. But that girl is as like to tell a lie as the truth.” He shot Thomas a sideways glance. “I beg your pardon, sir.”
“That’s all right, Cole.” The stallion tugged on his bridle, black eyes rolling in his head. Why would Louise give the stallion to Mrs. Leeds? It’s not as if Allie or her mother had ever expressed interest in such a horse. Black stallions are not high on the wish lists of society ladies. Thomas frowned, struggling to make the pieces fit together. He suddenly sucked in a breath as he remembered the one person who did long for such a horse.
“Cole, you have to promise me you’ll keep Janey away. Do you understand?” He tried to keep his voice even but he could feel the words tumble out.
“Of course, I would never let her near,” the carriage man said, straightening his shoulders.
“I know you wouldn’t, but see, the girl has always wanted a horse just like this.”
Cole turned and watched the stallion, his face grave. “Well, now, that is good to know. I will keep a keen eye on her.”
All The Blue of Heaven (Colors of Faith) Page 22