A Desperate Hope

by Elizabeth Camden

  “You will need to have a structural engineer on the scene for that one,” Enzo said after a long pause. “It is too challenging for my skills.”

  But Alex had to believe everything would work out as God intended. He would worry about the tavern another day. This evening was too precious to squander on fear or anxiety. Their first move was a triumph. In the months ahead, there would surely be setbacks and problems, but for tonight, it was time to celebrate the blessing of a truly perfect day.

  Chapter

  Eighteen

  After the tension of moving Mrs. Trudeau’s house on Saturday and their first two-story house on Sunday, Eloise thought the rest of the week would be easier.

  She was wrong. Each evening Alex accompanied her and Enzo as they consulted with people who planned to move their buildings. During the meetings Alex was professional, competent, and helpful as they drafted plans for a safe and efficient move.

  And that was the problem.

  This businesslike side of Alex was something Eloise had never seen before, and his confident leadership was irresistible. It was the first time she sensed real depth beneath his daredevil charm. Now she had witnessed him in action as a leader who balanced management issues with the perfect dose of compassion. It had been easier to resent him when he was wild and irresponsible, but now she understood why people in this town were ready to follow him.

  The new town was starting to take shape. Bruce’s steamroller and excavator made quick work of land preparation, and little flags covered the barren field to outline future streets and the foundations for the two hundred houses and shops that would someday become a town called Highpoint. The new town needed a new name, and Highpoint was selected by popular vote.

  The next three weeks were the busiest of Eloise’s life. During the day she continued evaluating properties for the state, but in the evenings she threw her lot in with the residents of Duval Springs to shift the town. She and Enzo calculated the loads for each structure to be moved. Roy advised the volunteers on grading the streets and preparing the lots. Farmers, shopkeepers, and schoolteachers got busy plowing under stubbles of rye and leveling the ground. School had been canceled for the rest of the year, but the children got a real-world education in team work. Older children helped mix concrete and maintain the equipment while younger children helped prepare meals and carry supplies.

  On Friday evening, Alex insisted on buying her, Enzo, and Roy dinner at the tavern. They were finishing the meal when Sally came out from the kitchen, rubbing her back. “Can I get you folks anything? I’ll bring one more round before heading upstairs for the night.”

  Enzo was about to ask for another mug of ale, but Alex cut him off. “I’ll get whatever they need. Are you okay, Sally? You look done in.”

  Hercules must have thought so too as he eyed her from behind the bar. “Let me finish washing the glasses, then I’ll walk you upstairs, Sally-lass.”

  Sally shook her head. “I think you’d better go for Dr. Lloyd. We’re going to need him.”

  Hercules let out a streak of curse words as he bounded to his wife’s side. “How long has this been going on?”

  “An hour. I wanted to be sure before we dragged Dr. Lloyd over.”

  Hercules sent a harried glance over his shoulder. “Help yourselves to whatever you want from the bar. It’s going to be a long night. John, go get Dr. Lloyd,” he told his oldest son.

  Alex remained standing while Hercules guided Sally toward the staircase, then sat back down. “Let’s work on the town hall move. How do you recommend we proceed?” he asked Enzo.

  “Alex!” Eloise said. “You can’t seriously think we’re going back to work.”

  “Why not? We’ve got a deadline to meet.”

  “But—but . . . your sister-in-law is in labor.” She clasped her suddenly clammy hands together. Wasn’t there something they should be doing to help? Shouldn’t the world stop?

  But Alex seemed mildly amused as he gestured for her to sit again. “Sally’s been through it four times before, and trust me, it’s going to be a long night. We may as well take advantage of it.”

  Alex and Enzo went back to studying the timetables, but she couldn’t join them. Delivering a baby was too important, and she kept glancing toward the upstairs balcony in case Hercules appeared and needed something. Everyone else in the tavern had gone back to their business.

  “Eloise, sit,” Alex said gently. “It’s going to be okay. And if it’s not, save your energy until it’s needed. Okay?” Humor crinkled the corners of his eyes, and she sat, but it was impossible to concentrate. Didn’t these men realize the magnitude of what was happening upstairs?

  Twenty minutes later Dr. Lloyd arrived, and he ousted Hercules and all the boys downstairs. Dr. Lloyd was an old-fashioned sort who refused to tolerate fathers or children anywhere near the delivery room. At seventeen, John was the oldest boy and had been through this before, but Mark was only eight and seemed alarmed.

  “How come we have to leave?” Mark asked. “What if Ma needs us?”

  Hercules ruffled the boy’s hair, then grabbed a handful of darts. “She’s got a pair of lungs on her that can shake the rafters. She’ll let us know what she needs. Come on, let’s see if we can work on your aim.”

  Hercules took a position before the dartboard, then threw a dart that hit the board sideways and clattered to the floor. Alex noticed and frowned. He turned back to the timetables, but his hands were clenched, and he shifted uneasily in his chair. Mr. Brookmeyer lounged in the corner but fingered a string of prayer beads.

  They were all nervous and just trying to pretend they weren’t! Why were they pretending?

  She didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud until Alex reached over to squeeze her hand. “Of course we’re nervous,” he said. “But hand-wringing isn’t going to help. Sit down, and let’s work on these schedules.”

  She couldn’t concentrate on schedules while Hercules kept throwing darts that didn’t stick to the board. Mark Duval sat on the piano bench, kicking the instrument with hollow thuds.

  A prayer would be helpful right now.

  “Would you mind if I played the piano?” She’d always considered “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring” a form of prayer. Same with “Amazing Grace” and Salve Regina. Playing hymns on the piano was the most useful thing she’d been able to contribute to religious services when she was at the convent.

  Alex gestured to the old upright piano in the corner. “Be my guest.”

  She joined young Mark on the bench and settled her fingers on the cool ivory keys. The timeless music of Bach filled the tavern, and Hercules set down the darts. Bach lifted her up and peeled away worldly concerns. At the end of the hymn, she launched into a rendition of “Amazing Grace.” By ten o’clock Enzo and most of the townspeople had drifted home, but Eloise didn’t leave. It felt like she was finally being useful by filling the tavern with wholesome, spiritual music.

  Somewhere around midnight, Reverend Carmichael and his wife arrived at the tavern with a freshly baked apple pie still warm from the oven. Mrs. Carmichael knew it was Sally’s favorite and had started baking the moment she heard Sally was in labor. It was the kind of thing people in this community did for one another.

  Finally, Eloise reached the end of her repertoire of hymns and turned to the others. “Is there anything you’d like to hear?”

  “Do you know any Stephen Foster?” Hercules asked. “He’s Sally’s favorite, and she’ll be able to hear.”

  It seemed a little discordant to play “Oh! Susanna” after the majesty of Bach, but this was Sally’s night, and Eloise played the song with gusto. Then she played “Gentle Annie” and a rousing rendition of “Camptown Races.”

  Reverend Carmichael requested “Nearer, My God, to Thee,” but Hercules disagreed. “Sally really likes Stephen Foster,” he said.

  Reverend Carmichael disagreed. “But I think given the occasion—”

  “Look, I’ve been married to that woman for nineteen years,”
Hercules said. “I know exactly what she likes, and if she hears ‘Nearer, My God, to Thee,’ she’ll think we’re singing her into the grave. She loves Stephen Foster.”

  Reverend Carmichael and Hercules bickered, but the debate came to an abrupt end when Dr. Lloyd stepped out onto the upstairs balcony. Hercules shot to his feet in expectation, but the doctor spoke only to Eloise.

  “Mrs. Duval would like to hear more Stephen Foster,” he said.

  “But I’ve already played the only songs I know,” she replied.

  “Then play them again,” Hercules said. “Please.”

  Eloise launched back into her three Stephen Foster songs. She repeated them several times, fearing the relentless cheer of “Oh! Susanna” would become branded in their minds for eternity. She finally gave in to Reverend Carmichael’s urging for more Bach, but it didn’t take long for Dr. Lloyd to step outside again.

  “I am passing along a request for Stephen Foster,” he said in a tired voice.

  It was two o’clock in the morning, and if Eloise never heard another Stephen Foster song, she would fall to her knees in thanks. Hercules could sense it.

  “Just do it. Please,” he implored. “You can have my firstborn child.”

  “Dad, you’ve got to quit saying that,” John said, clearly tired of hearing that promise all his life. Eloise conceded and played another round of “Gentle Annie.”

  Ten minutes later they heard the mewling cry of a newborn baby. Hercules bounded up the staircase, and the boys tried to follow, but Mrs. Carmichael sprang up with surprising agility and tugged on the back of John’s collar to stop him from vaulting upstairs.

  “They’ve got their hands full with your baby brother,” she said. “Be patient. Your father will be down in good time. Go have a piece of pie.”

  Hercules emerged less than five minutes later, carrying a bundle in his arms. The baby was quiet, but Hercules openly wept.

  “It’s a girl!” he sobbed. “We’ve got a baby girl. A beautiful, sweet, blessed baby girl.”

  Eloise’s heart grew twice its normal size, and a lump filled her throat, but even more surprising was Alex’s reaction. He looked both stunned and joyous.

  “I don’t believe it!” he managed before giving Hercules an awkward hug so as not to crush the baby. The boys gathered around, eager to see their only sister.

  “What’s her name?” Bill asked.

  Hercules gazed in rapture at the tiny scrap of humanity nestled in his arms. “All my life I’ve dreamed of having a little girl,” he said in a teary voice. “I swore I’d give her a nice, normal name like Ann or Mary . . . but no, I just can’t.”

  “Stick to your guns, Hercules,” Alex said.

  Hercules smiled wide, laughter mingling with tears as he gazed at his baby. “This sweet girl is Blessed Joy. That’s exactly who she is, and no other name will do. She is Blessed Joy.”

  Alex nearly choked. “You can’t saddle an innocent baby with a name like that. As your brother, it’s my duty to stop you from doing stupid things. Give her a solid name, a normal one. Mary sounds good.”

  The smile on Hercules’s face was blinding. “Nope. We can call her Joy, but it’s a puny word for what I feel right now, and her real name is Blessed Joy. That’s what I will write on her birth certificate.”

  Hercules held up the baby so each person in the tavern could pass by and admire the miracle. Some reverently gazed at the tiny bundle, although most couldn’t resist touching her nose or stroking her patch of light brown hair.

  But Eloise clung to the back wall of the tavern and watched from a distance. If she got any closer, the emotions welling inside would swamp her. Painful longings for a baby roared to life the moment she saw Hercules step onto the landing, his face bathed in tears, but this groundswell of emotion was more than that. Since she was eight years old, she’d watched this town from afar, and tonight she had been one of them. It was a heady feeling that made her both happy and profoundly sad. This town’s days were numbered, as was her time here.

  If only she could put a word to this emotion. Poignancy? Bittersweet? Neither word quite captured it. Her soul cried out for something she had never actually possessed but desperately wanted.

  Alex noticed her standing apart, and he closed the distance between them. “What are you doing all the way over here? Have you seen the baby?”

  “I can see from here,” she said. “And I should be getting back to the hotel. We’ve got a long day tomorrow.”

  Alex gave a weary nod and helped her into her coat, then held the door for her. It was cold outside after the warmth of the tavern, and she pulled her coat tighter.

  “He won’t really name her Blessed Joy, will he?” she asked as they headed toward the inn.

  Alex could only shrug. “So far he’s been good about naming the boys, but I can’t put anything past him. Tomorrow I’ll head over to town hall and warn the clerk not to let Hercules file a birth certificate until the euphoria wears off.”

  “Thank you,” she said gently.

  “For what?”

  “For intervening on that baby’s behalf. For being so good-hearted these past months. For being nice to me when I got lost in the woods all those years ago.”

  She had to stop babbling, or this unwieldy emotion was going to sweep her away. But would that be so terrible?

  Alex stopped and turned to face her as they reached the old elm tree in the center of the town square. His face softened, warmth and regret blazing in his eyes. “I really did love you back then,” he said. “I keep wondering what would have happened if we hadn’t been separated.”

  She didn’t need to wonder, for she already knew. They would be married. They would have children. She never would have earned her accounting license or developed a backbone to stand up for herself.

  She looked at him with sad affection. “You would have grown tired of catering to the insecurities of a needy cuckoo bird, and I would forever carp on you to become the kind of serious, sensible man you were never meant to be.”

  “That’s not true!”

  “We both know it is.” The kind of man a woman chose at twenty-eight was very different from the sort who dazzled a sixteen-year-old girl.

  His shoulders sagged and he looked away, for he had no answer. This cascade of emotion was hard to grapple with. Even now she longed for the comfort of her apartment and her predictable job back home, for her time in Duval Springs had been exhausting. Fletcher was perfect for her. He was sensible and accomplished and was the safe harbor Alex could never be. A piece of her would always love Alex, but they weren’t right for each other.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said gently. “I wish it were otherwise.”

  The raw pain in Alex’s eyes haunted her the entire night.

  Chapter

  Nineteen

  A piece of Alex wanted to lie in bed and mope over Eloise’s rejection. She was imprinted on his soul as the partner he wanted to laugh with, take to bed each night, raise children with, and grow old alongside. To know she imagined a different man for that role was crushing. Even with the sounds of breakfast percolating from the dining room below, he couldn’t force himself downstairs, where he’d have to see her and pretend all was well. It was cowardly, but he knew his limits and loitered in his room until he saw Eloise and the rest of the demolition crew set off for the day.

  The ache sapped his energy, making it hard to be cheerful as he greeted others in the hotel dining room, but he did it. He smiled as he announced the arrival of Blessed Joy and accepted hearty congratulations and teasing over the ridiculous name his brother intended to saddle her with. Rumor had it Hercules filed the paperwork at the crack of dawn, and Alex probably never stood much chance dissuading him anyway. Soon people wanted to know when their houses would be moved and if they could have a basement. Normal town business came to the fore, and he loved it.

  He loved it. He must never lose sight of that. Maybe Eloise preferred someone else, but God had given him a huge and wonderfu
l blessing of a town to move and friends worth fighting for. By the time he mounted his horse to head up the hill, his mind was already strategizing how to restructure the production schedule so more people could get a shot at the excavator for basements.

  It had been three weeks since Marie’s modest house had been moved, and during that time they had moved an additional ten houses and a café. A hand-cranked pump had been installed, and it was in almost constant use as men mixed concrete, workers slaked their thirst, and the café made coffee by the vat. Over a hundred people were already at work on dozens of plots as he rode into town, but his eye was drawn to a movement behind Marie Trudeau’s house.

  Mrs. Trudeau stood huddled close to another figure. Misgiving descended as Alex recognized Bruce Garrett’s hulking frame. This couldn’t be good. The last time Garrett spoke to Mrs. Trudeau, it had ended in a shouting match, so Alex prodded his horse into a canter, heading straight to the back of Mrs. Trudeau’s house. Garrett had better not dare breathe one harsh word toward the woman who was beloved by everyone in town.

  “What are you doing here?” Alex asked as he swung down from the horse.

  Garrett shifted his weight and shot Alex a surly glare, and Mrs. Trudeau seemed anxious as she took a step back. She pulled her coat tighter and gave a nervous smile.

  “Mr. Garrett came to apologize for what happened on the day my house was moved,” she said. “I have accepted his apology.”

  Alex glanced between Mrs. Trudeau and Garrett, who had never struck Alex as the apologizing sort.

  “That’s all?” he asked skeptically. “An apology?” The way they’d been huddled so close behind her house almost seemed as though they wanted to avoid attention.

  “Would you rather I was here to inspect the equipment I loaned you?” Garrett said. “There’s mud caked all over the steamroller.”