The Brightest of Dreams

by Susan Anne Mason

  Like a true partner would. . . .

  “Harriet.” The strange timbre of his voice made her lift her head.

  Her breath caught at the intensity in his expression, and her heart began to beat an unnatural rhythm. “What is it?” She hardly dared voice the question.

  “You and I have been friends for more years than I care to count,” he began. “All the way back to when I was a relatively new rector and you and Miles helped me start up the Newcomers Program.”

  She wanted to look away but found she couldn’t. What if he was about to tell her he’d been assigned to a parish in a different city? What would she do without him around the corner?

  “Recently I’ve been growing restless, and I find myself wanting to make a change. Before it’s too late.”

  Her free hand fluttered to her throat. She was right. He was leaving her. And he’d chosen a fancy restaurant to impart the bad news. Her mouth went completely dry. How was she ever going to wish him well when part of her would be dying inside?

  “So I’ve decided to be brave and ask for what I want.” He caressed her fingers with his thumb, his eyes on her face. “Harriet, will you do me a great honor and marry me?”

  Her mouth fell open. Every thought flew from her head. “You’re not moving away?”

  “Moving? Why would you think that?”

  “You . . . you said something about being restless and wanting a change.”

  He gave a hearty laugh. “Moving is not the type of change I’m interested in. I want someone to come home to at night. Someone to share all aspects of my life. And I want that someone to be you.” He leaned closer and kissed her softly, with just enough heat to make her heart gallop in her chest. Then he pulled back to look at her. “I can see I’ve stunned you with my proposal. Maybe you’d like some time to consider it before giving me an answer?”

  “That would be . . . reasonable.”

  “Oh, I almost forgot.” He reached into his pocket and took out a small box. “I probably should have led with this, but it’s been forty years since I’ve proposed to a woman.” He opened the box to reveal a square-cut emerald ring with two small diamonds on either side. “I’ve had this since last Christmas, waiting for the right time to ask. I finally realized I was wasting precious days we could be together, and that no matter the answer, I needed to know.”

  Tears blurred her vision. He’d even remembered she didn’t like ostentatious diamond rings. That emeralds were her favorite stone. “Oh, Geoffrey.” Her voice broke.

  His smile faded as he closed the lid. “It’s all right, Harriet. No one said you had to return my feelings. If friendship is all you can manage, then I’ll have to live with it.” Sorrow shadowed his features, dimming the light in his eyes.

  Her heart squeezed. “You didn’t let me finish.” She swiped at her damp cheeks. “I don’t need time to think it over, because . . .” She inhaled and let out a breath. “I would be honored to be your wife.”

  His brows shot upward. “Really?”

  “Really.” She managed a wobbly smile.

  His face broke into a wide grin. Then he leaned in and kissed her once more. This time, she reached over to cup his cheek and kissed him back.

  When he moved away, his eyes were shiny with tears. “I love you very much, Harriet Chamberlain. But I never dared to hope you could ever consider me as more than a friend.”

  She lifted one shoulder. “Lately when you’ve been over in the evenings and leave for home, I’ve been wishing you didn’t have to go.” Heat rushed into her cheeks.

  “I feel the same way. It’s hard going back to an empty rectory. I almost bought a dog for company.”

  Harriet gave a shaky laugh. “A dog might be nice. I haven’t had a pet in years.”

  “Then maybe we’ll get one together.” He laughed too, the sound freeing all the tension within her. “Should we see if the ring fits?”

  “Please do.” She held out her left hand, but then stopped. She still wore her former wedding band all these years after Miles’s death, as she felt it gave her more respectability as a boardinghouse owner. With a steadying breath, she wriggled the gold band off, kissed it, and deposited the ring into her handbag. Then she held out her hand again.

  “You’re sure?” Geoffrey asked.

  “Positive.”

  He took the emerald from the box and slipped it onto her finger.

  “It’s perfect,” she said. “And so are you.”

  “I’m far from perfect, Harriet, but I’ll do my best to be a good husband to you.”

  “I already know you will be. You are the most thoughtful, caring man I’ve ever met. And I’m blessed to have you in my life.”

  Joy beamed from his face. “I must warn you. I don’t want a long engagement. So as soon as I can find a minister to marry us—”

  She held up a finger. “A short engagement is fine, but I will need some time to put my affairs in order.”

  “What affairs?”

  “Well, for one thing, I’ll have to see about selling the boardinghouse. As a minister’s wife, I’ll have my work cut out for me. I don’t need to be worrying about boarders too.”

  “I hadn’t really thought about that.” He laid a hand on her arm. “Are you certain you’re willing to give up the business? After all, it’s your last tie to Miles.”

  “To tell you the truth, I think the time has come to let someone younger take on the responsibility. Besides, if I make a commitment to you, I intend to give it all my energy and devotion.”

  He shook his head. “I didn’t think it possible to love you even more, Harriet Chamberlain, but right now, I do.”

  Quinn guided the horse and buggy along the dirt lane that led past Brentwood Manor to the tenant farms beyond, being careful not to jostle the wagon too much. To his extreme gratitude, the rain had stopped yesterday, and a cool wind had dried out the mud. A nervous energy buzzed through his system. He couldn’t quite believe that today would see the fulfilment of his dream, and he would at last bring his mother to her new home. A place where she could feel safe with her family around her. A place where she could heal and never have to fear living in squalor again.

  Another benefit of Mum’s time in the infirmary was that her need for liquor appeared to have faded. As long as they could keep her from starting again, the doctor had told him, she should be fine.

  Quinn glanced sideways at her. She sat tall on the bench seat, staring straight ahead. In the bright light of day, the toll the years had taken on her were evident in the sallow skin and the deep grooves around her eyes and mouth.

  “The farms are over the next hill, Mum. Ours is the second one we’ll see.”

  From the firm press of her lips, Quinn could tell she was working hard to contain her emotions. “I can’t believe how lovely the countryside is here,” she said. “After living my whole life in the city, I never dared imagine what it could be like.” She inhaled deeply. “The air is so fresh and clean. I feel healthier already.”

  Quinn grinned at her. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all day.”

  “I still can’t believe you managed this.” She pulled her new blue shawl, one Quinn had bought for her travels, more closely around her shoulders.

  “The earl is a generous man, and he appreciates loyalty among his staff. Apparently, I impressed him with my service.”

  “And the fact you married his niece has nothing to do with it?” Mum’s lips twitched.

  Quinn shrugged. “At first, our marriage was a detriment to the situation, since his lordship believed Julia had married beneath her. Only by the grace of God did he have a change of heart and offer me the farm in gratitude for keeping Julia safe.”

  “The grace of God indeed,” she murmured.

  They passed the first tenant farm, and not long after came upon their land. Quinn’s chest swelled with pride at the progress he, Cecil, and Harry had made over the past several weeks. With Mum strong enough that they could leave her in the nurses’ care, he an
d the boys had spent most of the time at the farm. Cecil’s knowledge of crop rotation and plowing had proved more than beneficial. Even young Harry’s experience with farmwork served as a great bonus in their efforts.

  “Those are our fields, Mum. We’ll grow several different crops once we get the ground ready. And Cecil hopes to raise pigs as well.” He pointed. “There’s the house over to the right.”

  Her face brightened. “It looks big. I’d pictured a one-room cabin.”

  “You’ll be amazed. There are two separate sleeping quarters, with a common living area. And a loft where Cecil and Harry sleep. There’s even a rough indoor privy.”

  He guided the animals toward the farmhouse, knowing his mother would need to rest soon. There’d be ample time to show her the rest of the property later.

  “This is wonderful, Quinten,” Mum said as he helped her to the ground.

  Luckily, the house came with the basic furnishings provided, which would save them a good amount of money. Over time, Quinn planned to build more furniture to add to what was there. And he hoped his mother would make use of her sewing skills to fashion some new curtains, linens, and bedcovers. The rugged stone walls with wooden trim might be rustic compared to the earl’s home, but to his mother it would seem like a palace.

  He opened the door and ushered her inside the main room. To the left was the kitchen area with wooden cupboards, a cast-iron stove, and a good-sized table and chairs. To the right, two large easy chairs flanked the hearth around a cotton rug.

  “It’s lovely.” Tears appeared in Mum’s eyes. “I haven’t had a house to call my own since your father died.” She reached out a hand to him. “Thank you, son. For not giving up on me when you had every reason to.”

  He grabbed her hand and squeezed, his eyes burning. “Never.”

  She smiled and moved farther into the room. “It could use a woman’s touch, but overall you’ve done a wonderful job with the place.”

  “All we really did was clean. I knew you’d want to fix it up the way you’d like.”

  She nodded, her throat working. “I can’t wait to get started.”

  Quinn pointed to the small hallway. “Let me show you to your room. I think you must be ready for a rest after our long trip.”

  “That sounds heavenly. My own room and my three sons right here. What more could a mother ask?” She turned to him, her eyes glowing with emotion. “You have done a great job, Quinn, getting our family back together. Your father would be so proud of you.”

  Quinn swallowed hard, then ducked his head so she wouldn’t see the tears forming. He’d waited nine long years to hear those words. Nine years since the day he’d made the promise to his father. Nine hard years where he’d almost given up hope of ever fulfilling it.

  The soft click of his mother’s bedroom door told him he was alone. He wiped a hand across his eyes, attempting to sift through his jumbled emotions. Pulling the iron key from his pocket, he rolled it between his fingers. Then he crossed to the front door to the nail protruding from the jamb. There he hung the key as an ever-present reminder of the vow he’d made and had now fulfilled.

  “I hope Mum’s right,” he whispered. “I hope you’re proud of me, Dad. Of all of us.”

  Quinn glanced around the interior of the house, letting the full realization of his accomplishment sink in. He’d achieved his dream, completed his mission. Yet as he stood alone in the kitchen, waiting for the expected feelings of elation to rise up and envelop him, his stomach dropped. Even though his mother’s praise had warmed him through and through, a trace of unrest persisted.

  Because one crucial element was missing.

  Without Julia by his side to share in this moment, his victory seemed hollow.

  He blew out a long breath. Had he sacrificed one dream for another?

  He walked to the window to stare out at the fields where his brothers were working. The date for Julia to give birth was drawing closer by the day. It was time for him to focus on one more very important promise he had to keep.

  And God willing, he intended to do so.

  CHAPTER 33

  NOVEMBER 15, 1919

  Julia looked at the staircase and attempted to gather the energy to go up to her quarters. Now that she was so far advanced in her pregnancy, Mrs. Middleton insisted she rest each afternoon. Yet the effort to climb the stairs was too daunting.

  Perhaps she’d just put her feet up in the parlor and rest near the warmth of the fire.

  She walked over to the sofa and pulled a knitted afghan across her lap. Then, with a long sigh, she took Quinn’s letters from her pocket and opened them. In truth, she’d long since memorized every word he’d written, but it still brought a measure of comfort to reread them. Running her fingers over the very ink he had penned somehow made him seem closer.

  Becky had brought the first letter to her in person two months ago upon her return from England, and they’d had a nice visit. Becky told her all about the voyage, the cramped room in the boardinghouse they’d stayed in, and her mother’s amazing, albeit slow, recovery. In his next letter, Quinn had written that he would soon get his mother out of the infirmary and spoke of his pride in now having a home to take her to. Julia had actually wept tears of happiness when she read of his anticipation for his mother to see it for the first time.

  Yet the fact that this home was one of her uncle’s tenant farms troubled Julia. Quinn had made it clear that the final decision as to whether or not they accepted her uncle’s gesture rested with her. But it appeared that Quinn had already assumed she would want to continue their marriage and that she would agree to return to England. Which only added to the guilt she wrestled with at the possibility of having to destroy Quinn’s dream if she chose not to go back.

  To refuse, however, would now have additional consequences. In a letter, her uncle had offered his sincerest regrets at their estrangement and had made it clear that his offer of the farm was given in thanks for Quinn’s loyalty and as an olive branch in the hope that she would return to Derbyshire after the baby was born. So if she declined Uncle Howard’s generous offer, she would not only break Quinn’s heart, she would further alienate her uncle.

  Julia folded the pages with a sigh. In truth, she missed Quinn desperately. Missed his calming presence, his quick wit, and his charming smile. The way he always made her feel safe and cared for. And she couldn’t help feeling a little jealous of the cheery tone of his letters. What if he became so consumed with his new life on the farm that he didn’t come back to Canada?

  Back to her like he promised.

  It didn’t help that she was nearing her due date, and he’d made no real mention of when he might return. Perhaps he never would and simply couldn’t bring himself to tell her. What would she do then?

  That depressing idea had taken root and wouldn’t shake loose, forcing her to admit the very real possibility that she would face her future alone. To combat her anxiety, Julia spent much time in prayer, reminding herself that God was on her side and everything would be fine. No matter what Quinn ended up doing, she was strong and capable and would do whatever it took to keep her child safe.

  Julia leaned back on the sofa and closed her eyes, calling to mind the last time she saw Quinn at the train station. Once again, her heart had lagged behind her head. Over the course of their days together, he’d become increasingly essential to her well-being, and it wasn’t until the day of his departure that she’d acknowledged the truth. She did love Quinn—quite desperately, in fact. And she couldn’t imagine her life without him. But when she should have told him her true feelings, she couldn’t make her tongue release those few precious words.

  Would it have changed anything if she’d told him sooner?

  A throat cleared, causing Julia’s eyes to open.

  Mrs. Banbury stood in the doorway, gazing down her nose at Julia. As Julia’s pregnancy had become more and more apparent, so had the woman’s disapproving air. She held out an envelope. “This came for you.”
r />   Julia struggled to her feet to accept the paper. “Thank you, Mrs. Banbury.”

  Despite the woman’s thinly cloaked hostility, Julia always tried to be polite, hoping if she treated the woman with kindness that perhaps one day she would realize not all English citizens were horrid creatures.

  The woman left without another word, and Julia resumed her seat. She looked at the envelope and a shiver ran down her spine. The return address was from a Toronto solicitor. Surely this could not be good news.

  She ripped open the flap and took out the single sheet of official letterhead.

  You are required to appear before the magistrate at the Toronto courthouse on Thursday, November 27, 1919, at two o’clock to defend charges by Dr. Richard E. Hawkins regarding the paternity of your unborn child.

  As the words sank into her brain, she gasped and covered her mouth.

  Dr. Hawkins was demanding she go before a judge to discuss her pregnancy. What on earth would she do now? All it would take was one question from the judge and the truth of her baby’s paternity would be revealed.

  Panic raced through her, causing her breath to grow shallow. Breathing was already hard enough with the babe pressing against her lungs. She rose and stretched her diaphragm, intentionally slowing her intake of air. It wouldn’t do for her to pass out.

  She laid a palm on her belly, comforted to feel the flutter of life inside her. Slowly, her system settled as her breathing evened out. She would not allow anyone or anything to separate her from her child. Especially not its unscrupulous father.

  Even though her husband wasn’t here, she still had their marriage certificate. As Quinn had told her, the child was his by law. But what if the judge asked her under oath to identify the true father? What would she do then?

  She retrieved the paper from where it had fallen on the floor, Quinn’s words coming to mind. “If you have any trouble, promise you’ll seek Reverend Burke’s assistance.”

  As much as she hated to inconvenience anyone, she would have to once again ask for help. Alone, she stood no chance of keeping her child. But with a clergyman beside her to give her some semblance of credibility, just maybe she’d have a fighting chance.