Pete felt Libby wilt beside him, and he understood her relief. At least Bennett wasn’t planning to take off immediately. “So why not wait until you’ve finished school?”
Bennett set his chin at a belligerent angle. “Wanna know the truth? When I first started thinking about it, I wanted to do it because of you, Pete.”
Pete jolted. “Me?”
“Yeah. I’m just so tired of never measuring up.” A derisive note crept into Bennett’s voice. “At the orphans’ school, the Rowleys were always holding you up as an example of how I should behave. Any games we ever played, Lib chose you before she’d choose me. Here at the college, people seemed to take to you better than me—giving you a nickname and talking about how you could do so much even with that blasted peg . . .”
He drew in a deep breath and blew it out. A cloud formed around his head and then drifted away. “But you could never be a soldier. You could never show up here”—he held out his hands, indicating the surroundings—“in a uniform.”
“So you did it to spite me?” Pete really didn’t want to know the answer. If Bennett had joined the army simply to one-up him and was one day killed on a battlefield because of it, it would destroy him.
“Maybe at first, but . . .” Bennett dug his boot toe in the grass, his head low. “Got to thinking about it. I don’t have a family—not like you have. Nobody waitin’ for me. No place to really go when I get out of school. Figured if I’m in the army, then I’ll always have a place . . . to belong.”
Bennett’s words pierced Pete’s heart. He’d done a poor job of helping his friend see that he could secure a place of belonging if he would only accept God’s love. He hung his head, forcing down the knot of sadness in his throat.
“Guess that’s why I wanted to be in Beta Theta Pi so bad. Best fraternity on campus. It’d make me feel special—like I fit somewhere.” He snorted. “Pretty dumb. Now that they said I can join, I told ’em no. Just doesn’t seem all that important anymore. Not sure why . . .” Bennett glanced over his shoulder toward Rhodes Hall. “Guess I really upset Alice-Marie, huh?”
Libby nodded. “You certainly did.”
Bennett pulled his lips to the side. “Think I should go . . . talk to her?”
“I think you should.”
She spoke matter-of-factly, making Pete smile. He’d always been amused by Libby’s feisty side, but this even-tempered angle was nice, too.
“Well, guess I’ll . . .” He flapped his hand in the direction of the dormitory.
“Go talk to Alice-Marie,” Pete said, “and when you’re done, come see me. There’s something I need to tell you. Something I want you to hear.”
Bennett stood for a moment, looking directly in Pete’s face. A crooked grin tugged at the corner of his lips. “Yeah, I think I know what.” He gave a brusque nod. “I’ll try to hear you out.” He ambled off, his feet scuffing at the grass.
Pete turned back to Libby. “Now, we were in the middle of—”
Her mouth dropped open. “My portfolio!” She spun and raced back into the dining hall. Moments later she emerged carrying the black leather folder. She held it up, her smile bright. “I didn’t want to lose this.”
“And I was about to say . . .” Pete swallowed. She’d been so supportive in Clayton, offering encouragement and fighting hard to keep Oscar from the hangman’s noose. When given the opportunity to earn money with her writing, her first thoughts had been to use it to help him.
He knew she cared for him—she wanted his support in submitting a different kind of story to the magazine. And now God was important to her. She’d openly admitted she wanted to follow God’s will for her life. That change made his heart sing. But did all of that mean she loved him?
She swung her portfolio, the leather creating a soft swish as it brushed her skirt, while she waited for him to speak. But he couldn’t seem to make his tongue form the sentences. He’d heard that actions spoke more loudly than words. So Pete decided to let actions speak. Taking one step forward, he caught Libby in his embrace and pressed his lips to her surprised mouth.
Libby dropped her portfolio in the grass.
At that moment, a group of students exited the dining hall, their presence an untimely intrusion. Petey backed away from her, looking toward the sidewalk. Libby quickly bent over and picked up her portfolio. The moment she straightened, Petey took hold of her elbow and propelled her across the dark yard. At first she thought he was returning her to the women’s dormitory, but he hop-skipped past the building and headed for the far edge of the campus.
Her breath came in little bursts as he led her farther and farther from Rhodes Hall, and they finally reached the tree-lined path that led to the stone foundation. But instead of taking her to the meadow, he tugged her beneath a tree and leaned against the trunk, his chest rising and falling with the heaviness of his breathing.
Libby’s chest also heaved, but she couldn’t be certain which bore responsibility—the brisk walk or the wonderment of what he’d done. “P-Petey?” Her voice rasped out. “You kissed me!”
Petey caught her braid and let it slide through his fingers until he reached the end. He held the tip, playfully swishing the long plait to and fro. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since your sixteenth birthday. I’ve loved you that long. Maybe longer.” His features, tinged by moonlight creeping between the bare branches overhead, were pinched with remorse. “But I shouldn’t have chosen that moment. I—”
“You should do it again.”
He jerked upright and gawked at her for one startled second. Then a soft laugh—a joyous sound—escaped his throat. He released her braid and brought up his hands to cup her cheeks. He leaned in slowly, torturing her with the delay, and at last brushed her lips with his.
Her eyes slid closed. So the storybook tales are right. One’s heart does take wing. She let the portfolio slip through her fingers. It landed with a light crunch in the leaves beneath their feet. She curled her arms around his waist and rested her cheek against his chest.
“Libby?” He held her tight, proving that his heart was as affected as hers. She felt it beating even through his jacket. “You said you wanted to please God with your life . . . with your talents. Is that right?”
“Yes.” She couldn’t be certain how God would have her use her writing abilities—whether in allegorical stories meant to paint a picture of His love and grace, or in articles that would inform and inspire. But she trusted He would reveal His will to her if she continually sought Him in prayer.
“I want to follow Him, too, with every decision I make, including . . .” His fingers splayed on her back momentarily and then very gently he set her aside. He collapsed against the tree’s trunk. “I can’t think when I’m holding you.”
She swallowed a knowing chuckle. So the storybook tales were right on that, too. She wouldn’t tempt him. She inched backward, allowing him plenty of space. Then linking her hands in front of her, she admired the sight of Petey bathed in starlight. Alice-Marie was right—his hair was the color of moonlight. And hers matched the dark sky behind the stars. A perfect fit.
“Petey, you don’t have to think right now. There’s time for thinking. We’re still very young. God has much more to teach us, I’m sure. Right now, it’s enough to know He brought us together and He gave us the opportunity to become friends.”
“Good friends,” he added.
“Best friends,” she corrected. She reached out, and he responded in kind. Their fingers met and wove together—a simple touch, yet heartfelt. “I love you, and it makes me so happy to know you love me. But what’s even better is we both love God. With both of us seeking His will, we’ll discover what He wants for us . . . in time . . . and it will be perfect.”
For long moments they stood, her fingers linked with his, her senses thrumming. It seemed to Libby they were the only two people in the world.
Her gaze drifted to the edge of the trees, to the meadow where the stone foundation lay, unobtrusive but available to any
who would seek. Petey’s thumb caressed hers, and she looked up as he looked down. They smiled in unison.
His voice husky, he said, “I should walk you back to Rhodes Hall. I don’t want you to miss curfew.”
She nodded. If she came in late, Miss Banks would surely reprimand her. Again.
“I also need to talk to Bennett tonight.”
Libby knew what Petey would address—Bennett’s overwhelming need for belonging and where he could find it if only he would release his stubborn will and submit to God. It was difficult to relinquish one’s pride, but she’d experienced the joy that followed when one finally surrendered. She prayed that Bennett would listen to Petey’s words, and believe.
Hand-in-hand, they ambled up the tree-lined path. When they reached the dormitory porch, she started to head inside, but he held her back with a gentle tug on her hand.
“I won’t be going to Shay’s Ford for Thanksgiving. I need to catch up on my schoolwork. But I promised my ma—”
Libby marveled at how easily the title ma slipped from Petey’s lips. No resentment colored his tone or hardened his features.
“—I’d be there for Christmas. Please greet everyone for me when you go, and make sure my brothers and sister are settling in all right, will you?”
Libby squeezed his hand, touched by his concern for these people—these strangers—who bore his name. “Of course I will. And I’ll pray, every day, for their peace and happiness.”
His lips curved into his familiar endearing smile. Then he looked quickly right and left before leaning forward and brushing a sweet chaste kiss on her cheek. “Night, Libby. Sweet dreams.”
She had no doubt his parting words would find fulfillment.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Libby, I’ve missed you. It’s so good to have you home—and for three whole weeks!”
Libby leaned into the lumpy cushions of the well-worn parlor settee and grinned at Maelle. “You might change your mind before our Christmas break is over. After all, you aren’t used to having three girls underfoot. I might become an intrusion.”
Maelle had insisted Libby stay in her home rather than at the orphans’ school for the lengthy break, but every day they’d driven out to the school for time with Isabelle, Aaron, and the children. Even though Isabelle had put them to work decorating the orphans’ school, wrapping gifts sent by area churches for the children, and helping Cookie Ramona prepare goodies for the upcoming holiday celebration, Libby hadn’t minded. It felt so good to be home again, surrounded by people she loved.
She glanced across the orphanage’s parlor at Hannah and Hester, who sat cross-legged on the woven wool rug with Petey’s little sister Elma engrossed in dressing paper dolls. Their faces looked so content, and an occasional giggle rang from the small circle. Such a change in a short of amount of time—the difference love made, Libby realized. She also realized, with a start, that no animosity twisted her heart. She and Petey had begun praying together each evening, and they’d asked God to help her release her resentment toward Maelle and Jackson. Apparently the prayers had been answered.
Maelle lazily bumped Libby’s shoulder. “Since when have I seen you as an intrusion?” She offered a mock scowl that disappeared on a brieflaugh. “Just because I’m a mother now doesn’t mean I don’t have time for my favorite hand-picked little sister. And I suspect—” her expression softened as she gazed at the blond-haired girls—“Hannah and Hester will benefit from having you as an aunt. Attending college, becoming a published author . . .” Maelle’s eyes glittered. “I’m so proud of you, Libby.”
Libby contemplated Maelle’s words. If she couldn’t have Maelle as her adopted mother, having her as a big sister was the next best thing. She also liked the idea of being a positive influence for Hannah and Hester—much the way Maelle had influenced her. She smiled, nodding. “I’d love to be Hannah and Hester’s aunt . . . as long as they don’t call me Aunt Libby.” She pretended to shudder. “Makes me feel old!”
Maelle slung her arm around Libby’s shoulder, and the two shared a laugh. Libby leaned in close, relishing the comfortable camaraderie. How wonderful to set aside hostility and be at ease with her dear mentor and friend.
Isabelle Rowley bustled into the room, wiping her hands on a full, ruffled apron. She flapped the apron’s skirt at the girls and scolded mildly, “Get your mess picked up quickly now—Mr. Rowley, Pete, and Wendell are coming up the front steps with the Christmas tree. They’ll stumble over you if you don’t move.”
Giggling, the girls gathered their things and scuttled around the corner. Their feet clattered on the stairs as the front door burst open, bringing in a chill breeze and the scent of snow and pine. Maelle caught Libby’s hand, and they dashed to the wide doorway leading to the dormitory’s foyer in time to witness Aaron trying to wrestle a giant pine tree through the opening. Needles flew in every direction as Aaron yanked on the rough trunk.
Isabelle stood on the first stair riser, wringing her hands. “Oh, Aaron, be careful! I think this one’s too big. You might need to go back and cut a smaller one.”
He shook his head. Sweat beaded across his brow. “Nope. This is the one Wendell chose, and we’re gonna get it into the parlor if I have to cut a bigger door opening!” He gave another mighty yank. The large bottom branches folded inward, allowing the tree to pop through the doorway with another shower of needles. Aaron fell kerplop! onto his backside, and Petey and Wendell stumbled in behind the tree, nearly falling onto their cold-reddened noses.
Isabelle gasped, Maelle burst out laughing, and Libby stared at the tree. She clapped her hands in delight. “Look at it! The biggest tree ever!” She dashed past Petey and Wendell to slam the door closed, then shifted up beside Petey. Cold radiated from his jacket. She shivered and hugged herself. “It’s perfect!”
“I think so, too,” Petey said, clapping his brother on the shoulder. The boy beamed.
The thunder of footsteps sounded overhead, and children spilled down the stairway. Apparently the twins and Elma had spread the news that the tree had arrived. Eagerness lit every face, and their happy chatter filled the crowded space.
Isabelle raised her hands, holding them back. “Yes, we’ll decorate the tree after supper, just as we’d planned, but for now you must stay out of the way. While Mr. Rowley and Pete secure the tree in its holder, you go upstairs and round up all the ornaments.”
With cheerful shouts, the children wheeled and bounded up the stairs, disappearing around the bend at the top. Isabelle turned to examine the tree. “I hope we’ll have enough ornaments to decorate this tree. Goodness, but it’s monstrous!” Then she laughed, shaking her head and winking at Wendell. “It’s also the loveliest one we’ve ever had—so full and well shaped. Even without ornaments, it’s beautiful.”
Wendell hunched into his jacket, red streaking across his face. “Thank you, ma’am.”
Maelle stepped around the tree, heading for the staircase. “I’ll go help the children find all the boxes of ornaments. I might even put them to work making paper chains. That should keep them out of the way until you’re ready for them.” She dashed up the stairs.
Isabelle shook her head, looking after Maelle with fondness lighting her green eyes. “I’ll never be convinced she didn’t offer to oversee the children to avoid helping with the supper preparations.” She shrugged. “Oh well. She’ll keep the children out from underfoot, which is a tremendous help. And Libby can set the table for supper. Come along, dear.” Isabelle swept down the hallway.
Libby preferred to stay and watch Petey and Aaron stand the tree in its wooden holder in front of the parlor’s largest window, but she trailed after Isabelle as directed.
Promptly at six, everyone gathered around the trestle table in the school’s massive dining room and crowded onto the benches with no small amount of giggling and good-natured elbow bumping. As always, Isabelle and Aaron sat at opposite ends, and the children filled the benches that stretched along the table’s sides. Aaron offere
d grace and began passing bowls.
It never failed to surprise Libby how the Rowleys managed to fit everyone around the table. Over the years, the faces had changed, with some children going to adoptive homes and new ones arriving, but regardless of how many children resided under the school’s roof, there was a place for everyone.
It was an especially tight fit this evening. Since it was Christmas Eve, Matt and Lorna had joined the family for supper, and even Cookie Ramona and Petey’s mother sat at the table instead of bustling back and forth between kitchen and dining room. With the other additional guests—Petey and Libby, Maelle and Jackson and their daughters—everyone was forced to squeeze together. But no one complained. However, Libby decided it was best Bennett had gone to Alice-Marie’s for the first week of break. There wasn’t a spare inch of space on either of the benches to accommodate his bulk.
Libby looked across the table at Petey, who scrunched between his youngest brothers. Despite having to press his elbows to his sides to keep from jostling either of the boys, he appeared relaxed and assured. Finding peace with his mother had erased the worry from his brow, and each time he leaned across little Lorenzo to share a few words with Berta Leidig, Libby’s heart thrilled.
God, so many prayers have been answered. Petey is at peace with his family; I’m at peace with Maelle. . . . Christmas is a time for peace—thank You that we can celebrate without even a hint of unrest.
The moment they finished eating, the children began clamoring to decorate the tree. Isabelle raised her hands, commanding silence, and after several boisterous seconds their voices finally stilled. “Everyone, carry your own plate and cutlery to the kitchen to help Cookie Ramona. Then walk—no running, or someone might be trampled—to the parlor and we’ll—”
Whoops erupted, covering her final directions. Wild scuffling filled the air as the youngsters scrambled from the benches, snatched up their plates, and dashed for the kitchen. Spoons and forks bounced onto the floor. Giggles and squeals rang. Feet thudded as children ignored Isabelle’s instruction to walk. Libby placed her hands over her ears to block the raucous noise, but even then the joyous clamor threatened to deafen her.
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