by Merry Farmer
“Because of … you know.”
C.J. caught the hint, but Mark missed it entirely. “People are already starting to resign from the Church, didn’t you know?”
“No, I didn’t,” Gayle answered for them as if Mark had revealed the plot of an adventure novel.
Louisa’s light heart dropped to her stomach. “Excuse me,” she whispered and nodded to the men. “I’m going to help my mother and Mrs. Cleveland with the refreshments.”
She didn’t wait for a response from the men, or from her friends. She wanted to get away from any talk of the disturbance as soon as she could. The last thing she needed was to hear about the Church—the one good, stable thing in her life—in trouble. She scurried up the Clevelands’ back steps and into the hallway.
The Clevelands’ house was one of the older houses in the area and had had several additions built onto it over the years. The back door opened into the original, colonial hallway. The front door was open at the other end to let a breeze through the house. Louisa started down the hall and turned to cross through the original parlor to the newer section of the house, where a modern kitchen had been built. Another short hallway extended from that room to the pantry. Its door was also open.
Halfway down the pantry hall, she froze.
“So you see, Rev. McBride, this is a lovely opportunity for Louisa and I.”
Her mother’s voice came from the sitting room opposite the kitchen.
At the same time, Andrew came bounding up the stairs into the pantry. He stopped on the other side of the sitting room doorway when he saw the flushed tension on Louisa’s face. His own smile melted.
“It’s a very generous offer,” Mrs. White continued to explain in the sitting room, unaware that Louisa and Andrew were listening from either side of the open doorway. “My sister, Rose, is widowed as well, but she was never blessed with children. She has a modest income, but it is more than enough for Louisa and I to live comfortably with her. And I have no doubt that we will be able to contribute our share once we are established.”
“Your sister lives in Oxford?” Rev. McBride asked.
All color drained from Louisa’s face. She glanced desperately to Andrew. His eyes held steely concern.
“She does,” Mrs. White continued. “She lives in the house in which we grew up. It’s a beautiful house. I’m sure Louisa will find it charming.”
“Have you been home since moving here? Has Louisa been to Oxford?”
“I traveled home for some time when our mother died, but I haven’t been back for years. We always wanted to send Louisa and Henry to visit their cousins for a summer, but unfortunately we never had the funds. I’ve always regretted it.”
“Do you have enough to make the voyage now?”
A flicker of hope welled in Louisa’s chest. For once she was glad they might not be able to afford something. She turned that hope to Andrew, as if he could do something about it.
“We can sell almost everything we have here, little though it is. That should provide enough for the voyage. Unfortunately we only rent the house where we live now.”
Whatever hope Louisa had held onto shattered into panic. Her mother was suggesting that they move across an ocean, to a country she had never been to, a world away from her friends.
Her eyes welled with tears and remained fixed on Andrew’s.
“Mrs. White,” Rev. McBride began slowly. “If I may, are you sure that relocating to England is the best thing for your children?”
Andrew’s stoic glance flickered to the sitting room, clearly in agreement with his father.
“I am certain,” Mrs. White stated firmly. “Oxford is home, after all. Henry is in school and I have every confidence that he will make his own way and his own choices. Louisa is such a bright, inquisitive girl with so many talents. She has always been interested in history. She will be right at home in no time.”
Louisa’s teary eyes widened and she shook her head, needing to convince Andrew that she would not feel at home so far away. This was her home. This was her community, her heart, her life. She couldn’t leave.
“If you feel that it’s best,” Rev. McBride sighed.
“Oh, it is.” Mrs. White sounded almost cheerful now. “We will most likely leave in September, after Henry returns to Philadelphia. I wanted to let you know now so that you did not think we were abandoning you because of the … the disagreements.”
A spurt of unexpected hatred welled in Louisa. The split again. Her world was being ripped apart and there didn’t seem to be a thing she could do about it.
“No, of course not,” Rev. McBride went on to say. “If this is the best decision for your family then it is only right that you make this choice.”
No! Louisa wanted to shout, to beg her mother not to force her away from her home. But what choice did she have? She knew her aunt lived in a fine old house in a beautiful section of Oxford, surrounded by medieval buildings and cobbled streets. The life she was offering was far more dignified and safe than the life they had now, with loads of aunts and uncles and cousins besides Aunt Rose. But at what cost? Her heart broke to think about it.
She couldn’t stand to hear another moment of the dialog. Praying that her mother was facing away from the doorway, she shot across the hall and through the pantry where Andrew stood. Andrew reached out for her as she passed. She avoided him and hurried down the stairs into the yard, but he followed close behind.
Even though she knew he was there, she didn’t stop her flight across the lawn to the stretch of trees at the bottom of a sloping hill. She didn’t stop until she had crossed the small footbridge over the creek and was safe in the shelter of the trees, out of sight of the congregation that laughed and chattered between the barn and the house as if the world hadn’t just ended.
It was then that Andrew caught up with her.
“Louisa—”
“Why, Andrew, why?” she demanded, spinning to face him, hands clenched into fists at her sides.
He opened his mouth to speak, but her misery was only beginning to vent.
“Why is it that every time I’m happy, every time I think that everything will be all right, that the Lord is finally smoothing the way, something happens to ruin it all again?”
Andrew reached out and held her upper arms as if preventing her from exploding into the air like a rocket as she sounded off.
“Why is it that all these things keep happening? My father, our situation, the Church? I don’t want to move halfway across the world. This is my home.”
“I know.”
“No.” She shook her head, tears spilling onto her cheeks as her glasses slipped down her nose. “You don’t know, Andrew.”
“I want to.”
“Believe me, you don’t. You have so much. You have your whole family. You’re wealthy. You don’t have to worry.”
“Money isn’t everything.”
Anger bristled through her and for a moment she was speechless.
“How can you say that? You saw the way we live now. It’s all because we have no money. We’ve lost everything.”
“But if you ask for help. If you—”
“Mother doesn’t want to share our misfortune with anyone.”
“Why not? Your family didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just plain bad luck that things have turned out this way.”
Louisa sighed. Her flash of temper was beginning to ebb, and grim melancholy rushed in to replace it.
“I don’t know.” Her shoulders dropped and her energy drained. “We must have done something. Mother doesn’t want to put more of a burden on the Church than it already has. We’re … we’re insignificant compared to everything else that’s going on.”
For a moment Andrew was silent. Louisa sniffled and raised a hand to wipe her wet cheeks and straighten her glasses. He still held her arms and she could feel the rigid tension in his grip. When it loosened she glanced up.
“You’re not insignificant, Louisa.”
His voice
was so gentle, so tender, that her eyes stung with tears again. When he pulled her close and closed his arms around her, she couldn’t help but burst into a soft sob, resting her forehead against his shoulder.
“You’re not insignificant.”
She should have been embarrassed to be standing there in his arms bawling, most of the congregation only a short distance away. She should have worried about the propriety of being seen with him like that. It was next door to scandal. But the warmth of his arms and the steady beat of his heart against her forehead was too sweet a balm.
She circled her arms around his back and made herself take deep breaths until she was calm again. She let herself draw her strength from him, let the kindness of his friendship pull her out of despair. She could handle this. With the Lord’s help, she could face whatever challenges she had to. If her only chance for a better life lay an ocean away, in her mother’s childhood home, then she would just have to find the strength in her heart to leave the world she knew behind. She could write to her friends. But could she write to Andrew?
Drawing in a deep, shuddering breath, Louisa pushed away from Andrew and stood straight. She took her time drying her cheeks and adjusting her glasses. Finally she forced herself to look into his eyes. His expression was deep and passionate, as if he would take up a sword and fight all of her demons single-handedly. She couldn’t help but smile, even as she sniffled.
“Thank you, Andrew,” she whispered, her voice rough. “I’m better now.”
“You’re not,” he insisted, stepping closer to her.
She shook her head and took a step back.
“No, I’ll be all right. If this is the choice in front of me, then I will have to deal with it as best I can. I have to trust that the Lord will make sure it will all work out. And maybe moving to England is Him opening a whole new set of doors that I have never considered.”
“You don’t want to go, Louisa. You don’t have to pretend that you are okay with this. Talk to your mother and tell her how you feel.”
He was so concerned. It squeezed her heart into a tight bundle, as sharp as needles. She needed to get away or she would dissolve into a blubbering mess again.
“I’ll think about it,” she told him, unable to meet his eyes. She took in another breath. “In a way, I’m glad I overheard her before she told me herself. Now I know what to expect and I can … I won’t have to disappoint her by being upset.”
He remained silent, but it was obvious from the harsh set of his jaw and the steel in his eyes that he was not pleased with what she was saying.
“Just do me one favor, Andrew.”
“Anything,” he said, eyes lighting with eagerness.
“Don’t tell Wren. Or anyone else for that matter.”
His expression darkened again. He let out a breath and stared over her shoulder before focusing on her again and pledging, “I won’t tell anyone.”
She had the horrible feeling he was angry with her for asking him to keep another secret.
“I just need to figure out how I want to handle this,” she reassured him, holding out her hands in a pleading gesture. “On my own.”
He leaned forward as if he would argue with her. She narrowed her eyes, as if daring him to take her on. She was miserable enough that if he pushed her, she would make him regret it. He must have sensed it as well. After a pause he dropped his shoulders and sighed.
“Come on. I’ll walk you back up to the kitchen so that you can find a cool cloth for your eyes.”
“Thank you.”
They started to walk. He held out his arm for her but she pretended she didn’t notice the gesture. The last thing she needed was for people to see her walking back from the woods on Andrew McBride’s arm, her face puffy and red from crying. It would be hard enough to make it through the next two months to September without the added burden of gossip. It would be hard enough.
Chapter 5
The inevitable conversation about England happened that afternoon.
“So you see, my dears, this really is a blessing,” Louisa’s mother finished her explanation as Louisa and Henry sat at the kitchen table with her.
“Yes, mother,” was all Louisa could manage to answer. Everything she had said to Andrew about being glad she had found out and fallen apart in advance to spare her mother’s feelings had proven true. She did her best to keep a cheerful face, but all the while her heart was breaking.
“Are you sure there isn’t something I can do to help?” Henry asked after a quick glance in Louisa’s direction.
“How very kind of you, Henry, dear, but no.”
Tempted as Louisa was to take Andrew’s advice and confront her mother, tell her that she didn’t want to move, she knew she couldn’t. Her mother had been through too much in the last year. She had lost her husband and her home. It was the least Louisa could do to bite her tongue and pretend she was as happy as her mother to sail a world away.
When Louisa woke early in the morning on the Fourth of July, her heart was still a dark rock in her chest, in spite of the clear and sunny day. She rose, washed, and dressed in an old white dress trimmed with new red and blue ribbons. This would be her last Fourth of July in who knew how long. There would be no parade and no games, no picnic and no fireworks, in Oxford.
With a sigh, she gathered the pillowcases and handkerchiefs she had embroidered for the Church to sell at their booth in town. A different country with different holidays, that was all she had to look forward to. She sagged with sadness as she fastened a wide-brimmed hat trimmed with a red, white, and blue striped ribbon over her modestly styled hair. At least the colors of the British flag were the same as the American flag.
“I’m heading into town,” she announced to her mother and Henry as they finished their breakfast at the kitchen table.
“Give me one second and I’ll walk with you.” Henry stopped her from leaving, picking up his breakfast plate and carrying it to the sink.
Louisa fought not to let her general disappointment with life seep into annoyance at her brother for holding her up. He rushed to don a red, white, and blue jacket and a straw boater with a striped band, and was at her side ushering her out the door before her impatience could run wild.
“It looks like it’s going to be a fantastic day,” he said with a smile as they started down the narrow street toward the road into town.
“For you, maybe.”
Whatever glumness Louisa carried with her threatened to melt in the sunlight, especially when Henry took the basket of embroidery from her and hooked her arm in his.
“Stop being such a sourpuss,” he teased.
“That’s easy for you to say.” She nudged him, taking comfort in the warmth of her brother’s support. “This isn’t your last Fourth of July.”
He laughed as if she had made a joke, his brown eyes dancing. “I doubt this is your last Fourth of July either.” He squeezed her arm, pulling her closer. He really was a dear when he tried to be.
“They don’t celebrate it in England, you know.”
“And England is not a doorless tower guarded by a dragon that you will never be able to break out of,” he answered.
She sighed. “It is when your whole life, all of your friends, and ….” she trailed off, biting back thoughts of Andrew. She had felt so safe with his arms around her, no matter that he was just being supportive.
“And?” Henry’s eyebrow arched when she didn’t continue.
She stole a sideways glance at him. “Nothing.”
“Hmm.”
“Nothing!”
They walked on in silence for a moment, clusters of people heading toward the center of town around them. It seemed as though everyone in Cape Ann, except for her, was in a good mood that day. Louisa drew in a breath and promised herself she would try to keep her chin up.
After a long silence, she noticed Henry was watching her with a wide smile.
“What?” she asked.
“I’m just thinking,” he replied. When
Louisa arched an eyebrow at him he said, “I’m going to have to keep an eye out for ‘nothing’ today.”
She puffed out an irritated breath. “And nothing is exactly who you’ll find.”
“Who?” Henry grinned.
“What.” Louisa corrected herself with a blush.
The closer they came to the business district at the center of town, the more people flooded the streets around them. Every year, the growing population of the seaside town celebrated the Fourth of July in grand style. Every church and organization had a booth along the main street, and all of the diverse people who lived there mingled, supporting each other’s causes by buying sweets and treats from all of the booths.
The main street ran parallel to the harbor as it passed the center of town and dozens of fishing boats were moored along the marinas, all decked out in their patriotic best. There would be a parade midway through the morning. People were already gathering alongside the road to secure the best seats. Children ran and played, waving flags. The fire company’s booth gave out tin whistles every year, and as Louisa and Henry walked past the excited throng blowing and tweeting, Louisa couldn’t help but laugh and clap her hands over her ears.
Thankfully, the Cape Ann Swedenborgian Society’s booth was farther down the road and well away from the tooting mass of children. Henry left her with a squeeze of her hand and made a show of glancing around for her ‘nothing.’ As much as a part of her wanted to sulk and feel sorry for herself over the predicament she was now in, Louisa smiled at her brother’s antics.
“Hello, dear,” Mrs. McBride greeted Louisa at the booth, Wren and Mrs. Wick with her.
“Good morning. Happy Fourth of July,” Louisa tried her best to be cheerful.
That was made easier when Mrs. Wick fawned all over the basket of embroidered items she’d brought.
“They’re exquisite, my dear,” she exclaimed, drawing each item reverently from the basket and laying them out in a place of honor on the table that was covered with food and handicrafts. “You have such an amazing talent.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Wick.” Louisa blushed, casting a glance to Wren, who grinned in return.
