An Awakened Heart An Awakened Heart

by Jody Hedlund

  Trespassing was a crime, and if they were caught, they’d face jail. At least she and Marianne would. Sophie, Olivia, and Nicholas would probably be taken to the House of Refuge, a reformatory for children accused of crimes. Elise had heard it was a foul place, and she didn’t want to risk her sweet children being forced into the same environment as hardened criminals.

  Elise started to shake her head, but Sophie peered up at her with such a pleading expression that she knew her sister was thinking about being safe, dry, and warm, somewhere they could actually sleep without noise or filth or fear of attack.

  “I’m sure the owners of the chapel won’t mind,” Sophie insisted. “Just for one night. Please?”

  Elise couldn’t resist Sophie’s plea. They wouldn’t be able to find a dry place tonight on the streets, not with the rain. Perhaps inside an abandoned building they could finally sleep for more than a few minutes at a time. Perhaps in the morning her mind would be sharp again and she would be able to think of a better plan to protect everyone.

  They found a rear entry to the chapel, which was also locked. But Elise managed to break a small window that appeared to have once been a closet or office. They lowered Olivia carefully through the window with instructions to find the back door and unlock it for them.

  They soon found themselves inside the chapel. Except for the pulpit and rows of benches, the chapel was empty, which only made Elise’s heart sink lower. Miss Pendleton, their one possible friend, was gone.

  After locking the door behind them, Elise led them to a deserted room on the second floor that looked like it had been recently painted. There wasn’t a single piece of furniture, but at least it was clean and dry. They huddled together on the hard floor. Elise covered Sophie, Olivia, and Nicholas with the one ragged blanket Sophie had managed to sneak out with the bag of their possessions. Even though the covering was slightly damp, it provided the young ones some warmth, and soon the soft rhythm of their breathing told Elise they were asleep. Even Marianne next to her had fallen into an exhausted slumber.

  In spite of her resolve to stay awake for a while and make sure no one had spotted their entry into the building, Elise couldn’t hold her eyes open any longer. She was so tired.

  So tired of running. So tired of being hungry. So tired of living in fear. This wasn’t the kind of life they were supposed to have. What had gone wrong?

  Elise’s mind began to shut down. Her last thought before falling asleep was that they would rise early and leave the building before anyone could discover them. They couldn’t afford to get caught.

  Chapter 12

  Christine glanced again at each of the faces in the tenement sweatshop and felt the sting of disappointment. She didn’t know why she should feel it so keenly, except that she’d been hoping to see the two young women who’d lost their mother. In fact, she’d specifically asked Guy if they could visit that particular apartment because she wanted to see the girls again and offer them another word of encouragement.

  Guy stood next to Mr. Schmidt, the shop’s supervisor. The air in the room was thick with humidity, which magnified the scents of mildew, chamber pots, and unwashed bodies. Christine tried to breathe through her mouth so that she wouldn’t gag and embarrass herself.

  Guy raised a questioning eyebrow at her, and she shook her head. As she wound back to him, he pumped hands with Mr. Schmidt, said good-bye, and then ushered her into the hallway.

  “The girls are gone?” he asked quietly after the door closed behind them.

  “It’s all right,” she said. “I guess I didn’t really expect to see them again.”

  “The community is so transient,” Guy said. “People are constantly moving due to new jobs or illnesses, even death.”

  “Thank you allowing me to check.” She hadn’t thought of the young grieving women since that first meeting, so the impulse to visit them again had been unplanned. And now appeared to be a waste of time.

  They had more important things to do today, namely to spread the word that their new facility was ready for additional workers. After laboring around the clock all week, the workshop was ready for additional business. They would start hiring more seamstresses Monday morning at seven o’clock.

  They didn’t have the dormitory ready yet, but they were making progress at cleaning the place up. For now she was living with Ridley. Yet she hoped to eventually have a room of her own in the building so she could live on-site.

  A door across the hallway opened, and a short man stumbled into view buttoning his trousers. At the sight of his bulbous nose, Christine recognized him as Mr. Jung, the uncle to the young women she’d come searching for.

  “Mr. Jung,” she said.

  He glanced up at her with bloodshot eyes.

  Christine tried not to notice how unkempt he was, his matted hair, tobacco-stained shirt, and the foulness of his breath. “I’m looking for your nieces.”

  He rubbed a hand across his eyes, clearly having just awoken. “That makes you and me both.”

  “Oh.” Then that settled it, the girls were indeed gone. “So you have no idea where they might be?”

  The man shook his head and grumbled something under his breath about their ungratefulness.

  Guy handed Mr. Jung one of their tracts with the address of their new facility. “If you see them, would you give them this?”

  Mr. Jung wiped the back of his hand across his overlarge nose. “If you see them, tell them they need to repay the money they stole from me.”

  As she descended the dark pit of the stairwell ahead of Guy, Christine closed the door on the possibility of seeing the girls. Although she’d felt the strange burden to reach out to them again, she would be busy helping so many others that she would soon forget she’d ever met them.

  After another hour of visiting and spreading the word about the additional employment opportunities and new chapel location, the drizzle began to change into a steady rainfall. With her shoes already soaked and her gown damp, Christine didn’t protest when Guy insisted it was time to go.

  Instead of taking the carriage seat opposite her as he’d done earlier, Guy sat next to her. There was hardly enough room for them both, and his arm pressed against hers in a way that made her much too aware of his overpowering presence.

  They’d been busy all week and had so much to talk about regarding their ministry plans that she hadn’t given much thought to their relationship, other than that she was relieved he’d made the decision to continue working with her.

  Now with him so close, she was conscious of the hardness of his muscles, his musky scent, and the rise and fall of his chest. She chided herself for thinking about him as anything more than a business partner. Maybe he hadn’t rejected her for what had happened at Centre Street Chapel, but he certainly hadn’t made any further indication that he cared for her. Not that she expected him to.

  “I was thinking,” he said after a moment, “what we thought was failure was really God moving us on to what He had planned all along.”

  “How so?” His hand rested on his knee, and she wished she was brave enough to lay hers upon it.

  “We thought the closing of the Centre Street Chapel was a disaster to our carefully laid plans. But if God hadn’t pushed us out, we wouldn’t have embraced the larger vision He had in store for us—not only a bigger workshop but sleeping quarters as well.”

  She nodded. “And I think He’s only begun to reveal all that is possible with that larger vision.” They’d already talked about opening a Sunday school for children and offering classes in the evenings to the women who wanted to learn to read and write.

  “Does this mean you’re starting to believe in miracles?” he asked with a teasing note to his voice.

  She smiled. “Maybe.” She shifted slightly to look at his face. He’d also turned his head to smile at her. Suddenly she was aware their faces were mere inches apart.

  “He did more than we ever asked for or dreamed about,” Guy said softly.

  She tr
ied to concentrate on his words, but the only place she could focus was on his mouth. He had a charming smile. Her insides filled with warmth at the remembrance of the way his lips had moved against hers with both tenderness and barely restrained power. She couldn’t deny she’d relived their kiss every day since it had happened and had dreamed about kissing him again.

  She didn’t realize she was staring or that he’d grown silent until his fingers slid to hers. She dropped her attention to his large hand.

  “Christine,” he started, “is it possible that God can do more yet between us?”

  Was that a note of hope in his voice? Did he still care for her after all? She couldn’t look into his eyes for fear of what she might see. Instead she focused on the way his hand wrapped so perfectly around hers.

  “If you say no, that you don’t want me, I promise I’ll respect your answer—”

  “I do want you,” she said. The words came out before she could halt them, and she was mortified at her confession. She hurried to cover up her embarrassment. “It’s just that I don’t understand why anyone would be interested in me. I’m nothing—”

  “You’re everything to me. I love you, Christine. I think I’ve loved you from that first day you spoke to me.”

  He loved her? Her lashes flew up, and she met his earnest gaze, seeing nothing but honesty there. She started to shake her head, but he stopped her by dipping down and catching her mouth with his. The pressure was decisive yet tender.

  She was surprised by the need that surged within her. She rose into the kiss. She could no more stop herself from opening her lips to him and deepening the kiss than she could prevent herself from pressing into him. Her hands moved to his face, then to his hair and the back of his neck. With each touch, his kiss grew stronger and more fervent until it was finally consuming her the way she’d dreamed about.

  Finally he tore his mouth from hers with a groan. His sound of pleasure only stirred her so that she found his lips and kissed him again. And again. Until her lungs were seared and her lips bruised. Still she wanted more of him.

  “Christine,” he mumbled between their lips, “we must be married soon.”

  She couldn’t find the words to answer him. She’d never imagined anyone would ever want to marry her. And now Guy had asked her not once, but twice. And he wanted it to be soon. Surely if anything were a miracle, this was it.

  She smiled, and the movement caused him to pause and pull back a fraction so that their noses touched.

  “What?” he asked breathlessly.

  “You’ve finally made me a believer in miracles.”

  “I have?”

  “It’s a miracle that you want to marry me.”

  “I have witnessed miracles,” he said, letting his fingers linger at the nape of her neck, driving her mad with his caress. “And my desire to marry you is the furthest thing from one. Any man would want you; I’m just glad God brought you to me first.”

  She leaned in, wanting once more to feel the warmth and closeness of his lips. But he pulled away, his brows creased. “Christine,” he said, “you’re a treasure worth more than anything I’ve ever had or could hope to have. And I want to spend the rest of my life showing you that.”

  His affirmation was difficult for her to understand. “Perhaps if you tell me often enough, I’ll finally believe you,” she whispered.

  “Does this mean you’ll agree to marry me?” His eyes overflowed with anticipation of her reply.

  What reason did she possibly have to say no? Not when she loved him. Yes, she loved him. She raised her chin, hoping he’d claim another kiss. And when he did, she arched into him and met his passion with her own.

  At the carriage door opening, Guy broke away from her. Neither of them had noticed the vehicle rolling to a stop or the handle rattling. With the rain pattering around him, Ridley stood hunched under an umbrella, his lips twitching against a smile. Once again he’d caught them in a passionate embrace.

  Guy cleared his throat and shifted on the seat in an attempt to put space between them.

  Christine slipped her hand over Guy’s and then straightened her shoulders and faced Ridley. “I’m getting married to Reverend Bedell.”

  Ridley nodded. “Very soon I hope.” The mirth in his tone sent a flush to Christine’s cheeks.

  “As soon as possible,” Guy agreed eagerly, clamping his other hand over Christine’s.

  “My congratulations to you both,” Ridley said.

  Christine could only stare between the two of them. It was clear Ridley had anticipated this. He’d seen Guy’s attraction to her all along, and she was relieved that he approved.

  “Shall I go inside and retrieve the missing item, Reverend?” Ridley offered, nodding at the door of the narrow building.

  Only then did Christine realize Ridley had driven them to the old chapel on Centre Street.

  “I left my pulpit,” Guy explained to her. “And I’d like to have it before the service tomorrow.”

  “I’d be happy to get it for you,” Ridley said with a smile, “and allow you more time with Christine.”

  Guy grinned. “As much as I’d like to accept your offer, I do believe I’d better resist the temptation for the moment.” Guy’s large frame tipped the brougham as he descended. He made a dash for the front door.

  Left with Ridley, Christine began to squirm. “I think I’ll go in too, if you don’t mind, Ridley,” she said, feeling the need to hide her embarrassment. “I’ll have a look around and make sure we didn’t forget anything else.”

  He didn’t respond except to hold the umbrella above her, though his widening grin was enough to bring another flush to her cheeks. Once inside, she shook rain droplets from her skirt and then took stock of the room that had served as the chapel. In comparison to their new spacious building, she saw now that this place was tiny, only big enough to hold a few dozen people. And the workroom upstairs was equally small.

  Gratefulness welled in her chest. Guy had been right. She’d thought their ministry had failed, yet God had only moved them on to bigger plans. If they’d given up or stayed here . . .

  Guy stepped from his former office into view. “I think someone broke in,” he said.

  Christine glanced around but didn’t notice anything amiss or damaged.

  “The window’s been broken,” he continued. “And I heard some scuffling upstairs.”

  She started to speak, but when he put a finger to his lips, she stopped. He motioned toward the stairs. Somehow a knife had appeared in his hand, hidden by the bulk of his arm. While they tried to creep up the stairs without making a sound, several planks creaked. When Guy reached the top, he stopped abruptly, forcing her to halt behind him. His eyes widened. And then his shoulders relaxed.

  “Miss Pendleton, if you don’t believe in miracles yet, then you will now.”

  She hurried up the remaining steps past him. At the sight that met her, she stopped again with a gasp.

  Cowering in a corner were a group of children and two women. One young woman had blond hair and the other brown. They were the very same women she’d been searching for only that morning in the tenements.

  They stared at her with frightened faces that were smeared with the filth of the street. Their black mourning clothes were wrinkled and unkempt, their hair tangled, their cheeks too thin. The older sister had her arms around the others in a protective gesture that tore at Christine’s heart.

  Tears sprang to Christine’s eyes as she reached for Guy’s hand. “Yes, I most certainly believe in miracles.”

  The youngest of the children, a boy, gave a piteous wail that one of the girls quickly smothered with her hand.

  Christine’s heart wrenched again.

  The brown-haired woman broke away from her sister and stared at Christine with recognition dawning in her eyes. “Miss Pendleton?”

  “Yes,” Christine answered, “I’m Miss Pendleton. And you’re all safe now.”

  A sob escaped from the young woman’s lips be
fore she covered her mouth with her hands, leaving visible only her eyes that pooled with tears.

  “I’ll help you,” Christine said. She knew she could do nothing less than continue to be the miracle people needed. But from now on she’d do so knowing that God was greater than any of her efforts and could work beyond all that she could ask or imagine.

  Guy’s fingers slipped through hers. Yes, God certainly worked in ways she couldn’t imagine. Not only had He orchestrated the meeting with these girls, but He’d brought love into her life, a love she never thought she deserved.

  She squeezed Guy’s hand, and her heart swelled with gratefulness that she’d have a lifetime to love him in return.

  Elise pressed her face against Marianne’s and Sophie’s heads and gulped back a cry of relief. She wouldn’t weep. She had to stay strong. Even so, her heart wept silently, echoing her sisters.

  Miss Pendleton crossed the bare room, her footsteps loud but reassuring. When she reached for Nicholas, Sophie relinquished the lethargic child with a sob. “Please help him.” Her voice was desperate. “He’s so hungry.”

  Miss Pendleton gathered the boy in her arms. He reached back for Sophie with only a whimper before falling silent and still against Miss Pendleton. “We need to go at once,” she said to Reverend Bedell. Although she’d kept her tone calm, Elise caught the flash of anxiety in her eyes.

  “Will he be all right, Miss Pendleton?” Sophie asked. She wiped the tears from her dirty cheeks but only smeared more grime on her once-creamy skin.

  “We shall do our best to revive him,” she said simply, her expression honest.

  Sophie’s lower lip trembled. Elise reached for her sister’s hand and squeezed it.

  “Let’s be on our way.” Miss Pendleton started moving toward the stairs. “We don’t have room in the brougham for everyone, but we shall squeeze in as many as we can.”

  “I’ll stay here,” Reverend Bedell insisted. “Ridley can take you and the children over to the mission and then come back for me later.”