Fireflies danced about the edges of the front yard, delighting the neighborhood children who raced to capture them in empty canning jars. It was a perfect evening for a picnic, a welcome distraction from the endless hours between dusk and dawn.
Every now and then a persistent June bug pinged in a suicidal bent into one of the Japanese lanterns Meredith and Leah had strung along the porch. No matter how many times Meredith captured the prickly-legged insects and carried them to the edge of the yard, they seemed determined to rush headlong into disaster.
A demoralizing exercise, comparing oneself to an insect.
“This was a lovely idea, Meredith.” FrannieBeth materialized from the crowd of neighbors gathered around the long tables set up in the yard. She waved a chicken leg. “Mrs. Tweedie’s fried chicken is still the best in the Valley. Duncan’s helped himself to six pieces, last time I noticed.”
“Did you try some of Garnet’s Victoria Buns? The recipe is one from Sloan’s side of the family, and Garnet’s determined to carry on tradition.”
“Oh? I thought they’d washed their hands of his side of the family, seeing as how the family had washed their hands of Dr. MacAllister.”
“There’s some strain,” Meredith allowed with a sigh, “but Garnet and Sloan aren’t giving up. They’re determined to ‘pray their way to a reconciliation,’ was the way Garnet put it, I believe.”
FrannieBeth shook her head. “Garnet’s looking beautiful, isn’t she? I’d practically forgotten her hair because of that bonnet she used to wear all the time. Have you noticed how Alice follows her around like a puppy dog? She and JosieMae Whalen were about to exchange blows over who got to sit by her at the table.”
“I saw. Looks like I’ve been replaced by my sister in Alice’s affections.” Meredith waved away FrannieBeth’s anxious protests. “Mercysake, I’m not that sensitive, Frannie.” She slapped at a mosquito. “Children have always loved Garnet.”
“They love you just as much. You saw Jessup when we arrived—practically leaped out of my arms. He wanted his Auntie Merry.” She paused. “Meredith? Are you doing better these days?”
“Only if I don’t think,” Meredith admitted.
“I still don’t understand why you don’t go back to Winchester, talk to him.”
Because I’m terrified that I’ll make the biggest mistake of my life. “Because I’m enjoying being at home, being . . . domestic.” It wasn’t a lie, and she wasn’t hiding, she was enjoying the slower pace of a household routine. And her relationship with Leah had deepened, though her younger sister offered little in the way of counsel, on either matters of the heart or the spiritual questions that haunted Meredith. “I plan to go back, Frannie. I’m just . . . not ready yet.”
“It’s too lovely a night for long faces.” Garnet joined them, her gaze on Meredith. She jostled her arm. “Why don’t y’all come on over with us? I believe we’re about to be treated to a concert. Mr. Whalen’s brought his banjo, and Mr. Mueller brought the wooden flute Papa made for his seventieth birthday last year.”
A high-pitched squall interrupted the flow of congenial conversations behind the three women. FrannieBeth shook her head. “That’s Jessup. I’d recognize his train-whistle screech in a room full of little screamers. I’ll go rescue whoever’s holding him so we can enjoy the concert.”
“I need to ask Papa if we have any more citronella candles,” Meredith said. “The mosquitoes are bad this year.”
Garnet blocked her retreat. “Meredith, please. Wait here for a few moments and talk to me. The whole evening you’ve been hanging on the fringes instead of being the center of the picnic. Everyone’s noticed, but they’re all too nice to put you on the spot about it.”
“Then why are you?”
Unoffended, Garnet tugged her handkerchief out of her sleeve and dabbed the perspiration from Meredith’s temples with the tenderness of a mother. “Because you’re my sister, and I love you.” She tucked the handkerchief away, then folded her arms across her middle. “And because one night a little over two weeks ago, I woke up in the middle of the night. Sloan was over at the window. He was praying. For you.”
Meredith refused to look at her. “Well, I probably need all the prayers anyone offers in my behalf.”
“I found out later that Papa was doing the same thing, at almost the same time. Meredith, the very next afternoon you turned up here looking, Papa said, like a bleached rag.” She paused, wanting to reach out to her. “I don’t understand, but I’ve learned to accept. Sloan and Papa have this—this extraordinary communication with the Lord. Somehow they can hear Him speaking to them.”
“Garnet, this isn’t the time or place to—”
“I used to think it was because they were special,” her sister plowed on, taking Meredith’s arm. “But Sloan has helped me see otherwise.”
She led Meredith away from the lantern light, away from the children now playing hide-and-seek among the tables spread under the trees; led her away from the men clearing tables and the women carrying dishes inside the house with Leah; led her all the way to the far corner of the side yard.
Darkness enfolded them, offering a cocoonlike privacy.
“Garnet, I don’t want to talk about this right now.”
“You don’t want to talk about it at all. Either about what God’s trying to do in your life or about Benjamin Walker. Do you think I can’t understand?” Garnet dropped her arm and stepped back. Only the bright flame of her hair glimmered in the matte black night. “Because I do. I do understand,” she repeated quietly. “Did you know that, a year ago, I was afraid to talk to the Lord?”
“What? Why?”
“Because for years I’d labored under the weight of guilt. Of doubts and incomplete understanding. I thought I had to be a . . . a perfect Christian in order for God to listen to my prayers.”
“That’s absurd. You know better than that.”
“Mm. In my mind, perhaps. But my heart wasn’t listening. I think you’ve something of the same dilemma.”
Meredith’s laugh was short and bitter. “I think, with me, it’s the other way around. I think my head isn’t listening to my heart.” She took a couple of steps, hands outstretched until she felt the cool-rough bark of the sugar maple that shaded the side of the house. “Remember the year lightning struck this tree, killed that huge limb that shaded our bedroom window?”
“That’s not an occurrence any of us is likely to forget,” Garnet murmured. She paused, a question poised in the silence.
“I thought the whole tree would die.” Meredith leaned her back against the trunk and closed her eyes. “I was so upset . . . you know how dramatic I can be. I remember telling Papa that the lightning had killed part of me as well, because it killed my favorite tree.”
“I remember.”
“Papa told me to wait and see. That within the order of God’s creation, sometimes nature has a way of healing itself.”
“And of course he was right.” Garnet reached to pluck a single leaf, twirling it between her fingers. “In the summer now the leaves are so thick on the rest of the tree you can’t see where Papa cut away the dead branch.”
“Garnet.” Meredith opened her eyes and peered through the velvety night toward her sister. “What I feel—it’s the same way I felt when lightning killed that limb. I-I still don’t know whether I’ll be able to heal myself.”
“You won’t have to.” The gentle confidence flowed over Meredith like a bracing massage. “God’s grace will heal you, if you allow it. You’re in love with Benjamin Walker, aren’t you?”
The exaltation of it burned. The pain of it froze her tongue to the roof of her mouth. All Meredith could do was to stand, mute and taut as barbed wire, while Garnet’s quiet pronouncement faded into the night.
Then two slender arms were holding her close, and the fragrance of violets saturated her nose. “God will work this out for you, just as He worked things out for Sloan and me,” Garnet said. She gave Meredith a reassuring shake. “And sometimes,
sister dear, He works best without our input.”
“You had to bring that up, didn’t you?”
“I was kinder about it than Leah.”
Meredith groaned, but the sensation of relief that loosened her muscles also helped restore her sense of humor. “Her latest effort included a logical tirade along the lines of ‘You didn’t think twice before chasing after that two-legged varmint Lamar so why aren’t you collaring Benjamin Walker and telling him how it’s going to be?’ ”
“One of these years, God’s going to present her with a gentleman of her own, and Leah won’t stand a chance.”
“Garnet, I think you should prepare yourself for the possibility that Leah will spend the rest of her life in the pursuit of knowledge. One of the reasons she’s having such a time with me is because she simply doesn’t understand. I don’t know if she can.”
A light breeze stirred the tree branches above their heads, carrying with it the faint drumroll of hoofbeats.
“A late guest? Who are we missing?” Meredith wondered aloud.
“I hope it’s not someone needing Sloan. Since I married a doctor, I confess I’ve come to be wary of the sound of hoofbeats in the night.”
“Then let’s go see who it is.” Now it was Meredith who wrapped a bracing arm about Garnet. “Try not to worry before you have cause.”
“You’re a fine one to talk. Ever since you returned home, you’ve—”
“Garnet? Meredith?” Sloan’s deep voice interrupted their determined banter. “You ladies hiding back here?”
“Under the maple,” Meredith called, adding under her breath, “I’m sorry, redbird. Looks as though you were right.”
Sloan’s silhouette loomed over them. “Both of you need to come with me.”
“Who is it?” Garnet asked, going to her husband at once.
Meredith lagged behind, unwilling to intrude. But Sloan turned back, waiting until she joined them.
“Meredith . . .” He hesitated.
“What is it?” Without warning, a shiver skated down her spine.
Sloan laid a warm hand over her forearm. “There’s been an accident. Benjamin fell and broke his ankle.”
“Benjamin? Broke his ankle?” Heart racing, she glared at Sloan. “That was a silly thing for him to do. When? How will he run the hotel? Lowell’s an efficient secretary, but he’s dreadful with people, and Mrs. Biggs leaves at four every afternoon so—” Meredith jammed a fist over her mouth. “Sorry. I-I shouldn’t carry on over a broken ankle. I mean, it could have been much worse, couldn’t it? Garnet, remember the year Otis Teasel broke his leg and his arm?”
“Meredith, I’m sure Mr. Walker will be fine,” Garnet began.
“Who brought the news? Hominy? And why? I mean, I don’t know what I can do, what I sh-should do . . .”
“Take it easy, Meredith.” Sloan squeezed her arm. “Let’s go find out, hmm?”
Meredith abruptly threw off his arm and dashed toward the front of the house where a cluster of neighbors were gathered around a lathered horse. She shoved her way through, hardly aware of the commiserating pats and murmurs that followed her. Her father stood in the center, talking to a man in the rumpled, incredibly dusty uniform worn by the hotel staff.
“Clyde?” She stared at the aging night porter.
He was breathing in ragged pants, but his eyes lit with relief when he caught sight of Meredith. “Miz Sinclair . . . you’s got to come. Mr. Ben—he needs you.” He lifted a trembling hand in a fruitless effort to smooth windblown locks of gray hair from his dust-caked face.
“Where’s Hominy? Why didn’t he come?”
“Ease up a bit, lass. Give the man a chance to catch his breath.”
Meredith ignored her father. “Clyde, did you ride all the way from Winchester?” She glanced around, relieved to see Leah threading her way through the crowd. “You shouldn’t have done that. What would Mr. Walker do if something happened to you?”
“I owe . . . Mr. Ben . . . my life. Ah . . . thank you kindly, miss.” He grabbed the glass Leah thrust out, downing the contents in four noisy gulps. “Beg pardon, Miss Sinclair.”
“Why don’t you come over here, sit down a bit?” Jacob suggested. “We’ll take care of your horse.”
“No, thank you kindly.” Clyde straightened his shoulders. “I’ll manage fine. Only rode from Tom’s Brook, you see.” He fastened his gaze on Meredith. “Mr. Beringer’s there, going after a Dr. MacAllister in Mr. Walker’s carriage. Hominy, he said you might be visiting there. I was to come along here, and wait, if you weren’t. The doc’s kin to you, ain’t he, Miss Sinclair?”
“Dr. MacAllister is my brother-in-law. And he’s here, Clyde.” Fear numbed her fingers, caused her scalp to prickle.
“Ah. Reckon Mr. Beringer’ll be here directly then.” Clyde’s gaze flickered over the crowd, now herded back under the trees. “Ah . . . can I speak plainly?”
“Of course.”
“Mr. Ben’s asking for you, miss.”
“What?” Meredith felt her face flame even as her throat dried up in a spasm of fearful confusion.
“He don’t know he’s asking for you,” Clyde hurriedly continued, fiddling with the brass buttons of his uniform coat. “See, the medicine they gave him, it’s put him in some sort of state. But Hominy says to tell you”—he darted her a glance—“ah, says to tell you that Mr. Ben keeps calling your name. And Mr. Beringer fetched me, said we’d take Mr. Ben’s carriage. He ought to be here real soon, Miss Sinclair.”
Leah had come up behind her. “Well,” she said practically, “Meredith, why don’t you and Garnet go pack a valise, while I feed Mr.—?”
“Henckle, ma’am. Clyde Henckle. But if it’s all the same, I’d best—”
“While I feed Mr. Henckle.” Leah pushed Meredith into Garnet’s arms. “Here. Go along now, Merry. It’s going to be all right.” She shook her head and concluded with mock sternness, “If you’d listened to me, you would already have been on the spot to play nurse to your beau.”
“He’s not my . . .” Meredith’s voice trailed away. Docile, emotionally hamstrung, she allowed Garnet to guide her toward the house. She couldn’t think. Mercysake, she couldn’t even weep. All she seemed capable of right now was placing herself in the hands of people she loved and trusted.
As she climbed the porch steps, a peculiar awareness washed into her with the gentle insistence of a summer creek’s gentle murmuring. A scrap of Scripture bobbed in the lapping tidewater: “He shall gather the lambs with His arm . . . carry them . . .”
“Garnet?” she whispered, half afraid she was on the verge of succumbing to some delusional expression of latent hysteria.
“I’m here. It’s all right, Benjamin’s going to be just fine.”
“I know. It’s not that.” Halfway across the porch she stopped, took a deep breath, and peered into Garnet’s concerned face. “I think . . . I think the Lord spoke to me just now.”
With that hesitant pronouncement, like life returning to frostbitten limbs, emotion prickled through her. And her eyes swam with tears. Tears of humility, reverence—and joy. Tears of which for the first time in her life, Meredith was unashamed. “It feels so good, I’m afraid to talk about it.”
“Then don’t. Just be still.” Garnet blinked moisture from her own eyes. “Be still and know, Meredith. Sometimes, words are even less necessary than actions. Trust me. I—”
“Miss Sinclair!”
Clyde came panting to the foot of the steps, but stopped uncertainly at the bottom. Meredith walked back across the porch.
“What is it, Clyde?”
“Forgot to mention that Hominy’s wanting me to make sure you bring along some kind of box or chest. There’s something inside of it, Hominy thinks. Something that’s real important to Mr. Ben.” He pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose. “Hominy was hoping you’d know something about it.”
“I do.” Meredith dashed down the steps and pressed a kiss against the astonished doorman’s
cotton-wool beard. Inside, her heart whirled in a kaleidoscope of love. Fear. Hope. “Don’t worry, Clyde. I’ll bring it.”
Over the doorman’s head her gaze met her father’s. Stunned joy had erased the weeks of strain from his beloved face. She smiled. “That ‘box’ is equally important to me.”
Forty-Six
Benjamin Walker’s carriage rolled up the lane shortly after Garnet and Meredith disappeared inside the house. Leah watched a man pull the two horses to a neat halt beside the hitching rail and jump with lithe grace to the ground beside Jacob. Efficient, Leah decided as she turned away, her mind busy with all the tasks necessary for her to oversee Meredith’s departure. In all the commotion her older sisters were sure to forget something.
Leah scanned the knot of people milling uncertainly about. She also needed to help the ladies clean up; it was obvious that the evening had come to an abrupt close. FrannieBeth and Mrs. Whalen had packed away a basket or two, but like everyone else their attention was focused on Mr. Henckle and the man Leah assumed was the unknown Mr. Beringer.
All right, then. First she’d make sure the cleaning up was under control, then she’d check on Meredith’s progress. Couldn’t depend on Garnet. All afternoon, her middle sister, though helpful as always, had seemed distracted, ofttimes staring off into the distance, a soft silly smile curving her lips. Leah clicked her tongue, then started for the tables just as her father called her name. Her foot tapped a restless beat in the packed dirt. “Yes, Papa?”
“Mr. Beringer, this is my youngest daughter, Leah. Leah, this is Mr. Cade Beringer, a friend of Mr. Walker’s.”
Leah nodded. “Mr. Beringer.” Her gaze slid beyond him to the knot of curious neighbors.
“Could you take Mr. Beringer inside?” Jacob asked, forcing her attention. “He’s wanting to return to Winchester as soon as possible of course, but I’ve persuaded him to clean up a bit, perhaps eat a bite while your sisters finish Meredith’s packing.”
Mr. Beringer was a tallish man—but thanks to Leah’s pint-sized stature, most any man looked tall—with a shock of startling golden hair noticeable even in the soft lanterns’ glow. He also looked exhausted, but she could have done without the extra chore. After a frank examination of his grime-encrusted face and clothing, Leah gave a cursory nod. “Certainly, I’ll show you to the kitchen. You can freshen up in the washroom built into the side porch, and I’ll fix you a plate.”
Shenandoah Home (Sinclair Legacy Book 1) Page 38