by Ruth Trippy
“I see.” Mrs. Chestley turned back to her dishes. After washing another plate, she said, “Do you think you can remain here or should you leave? I mean go home. Maybe you need a respite. And maybe Mr. Lyons needs a little bit of a shock to wake him up to the reality of the situation.” Mrs. Chestley turned to Celia. “I know my husband would not like to hear of your leaving, but remember, he said at one of our first dinners any man coming to claim your hand would have to be approved by him first, and I know Mr. Chestley would not approve of Mr. Lyons at this point. Not that he doesn’t like Mr. Lyons. He most certainly does. But he would see the pitfalls of the situation.”
There was quiet for some moments. “I hadn’t considered leaving as an option. I don’t really want to do so.”
“This is your decision. It has to be yours.”
Celia sighed. After a few more moments of quiet, she murmured, “But you might be right.”
Mrs. Chestley held out a plate for drying.
Celia stood and took the plate. “You know, I think I must leave.”
Mrs. Chestley cleared her throat. “If that’s the case, when do you think you should go?”
“The sooner, the better?” Both women remained silent while Celia dried the plate.
Mrs. Chestley rinsed her hands and wiped them on a towel. “Why don’t we go and talk with my husband, see what can be worked out. I could probably fill in for a time until he gets another assistant.”
Celia heard voices outside the bookstore. Two familiar ones. She stepped behind the counter ready to help or for refuge—she wasn’t sure. When the door jangled, she made herself look casually in that direction. Edward and Charles entered, one following the other. Seeing them this close reminded her of the archery contest. Both men were tall, but there the similarity ended. Charles was lean, Edward’s physique brawny. Both men were agile, but one looked as if he could easily overpower the other. Charles immediately headed toward the counter where she stood. Edward made his way toward the stacks and in a moment, was out of sight.
“Just the person I want to see,” Charles said.
“I’m glad I’m available. What can I do for you?”
“My mother sent me to ask you to dinner. Before I leave for Boston.”
“When are you going?”
“A week from now. What say you to dinner the evening after next?”
Celia felt the dilemma. She hadn’t told anyone besides the Chestleys her plans. Not even the man on the other side of the stacks. Should she lower her voice to Charles and tell Edward later, privately? Or just let him overhear what she said to Charles? Edward appearing from behind the stacks answered her question. He walked purposely toward the counter.
“I’m afraid that wouldn’t be possible,” she answered Charles.
“I know you have a heavy social calendar,” Charles said laughing. “Now, why ever not?”
“Well, I’ll be leaving that same afternoon. For home.”
“For home? Ah, to visit your parents and siblings. Very commendable. Well then, can we make it tomorrow night? I’m sure that would be fine with Mother.”
“I was thinking I should have my last night with the Chestleys.”
“Your last night with the Chestleys? But surely you’re going for just a short visit and the Chestleys wouldn’t mind.”
She would not answer that in front of Edward. She glanced at him. He was looking at her with an intensity that was unsettling. “They’ve been so good to me. Would lunch tomorrow be too short notice to your mother?”
“I think that’d be fine with her, she is hospitality personified. You’ll be working tomorrow?” On her nod, he asked, “Why don’t we ask Mr. Chestley when it would be convenient to leave the store for an hour? Mr. Lyons, you don’t mind if she takes a minute to ask, do you?”
Edward said nothing, merely gestured his acquiescence.
Celia smiled her gratitude. Or at least tried to. She felt embarrassment down to her toes. For him to learn of her departure this way!
“Now you see how easy that was,” Charles said a couple minutes later as they walked back to the counter. “God didn’t make me a lawyer for nothing. Mr. Chestley couldn’t say no.” He looked at Mr. Lyons. “Thank you for waiting,” then touched Celia’s arm. “One o’clock, then? I’ll come and call for you in the buggy. That will give more time for our luncheon.” As he was turning to leave, he stopped and said, “I just remembered, you’ll need a way to the station, won’t you? Why don’t I bring the carriage around the next day?”
Edward took a hasty step forward. “I’m already planning on doing that.”
“Oh.” Charles looked from one to the other. “I see.” He took a step back. “Well, then, I’ll look forward to tomorrow. Good-bye, Celia.”
The door jangled shut before Celia could make herself look up. When she did, she found Edward’s eyes fastened on her. “Celia,” he whispered her name. “Why haven’t you told me? Is something wrong?”
She looked at him a long moment, swallowed. “I know this seems sudden.”
His hand reached for hers. “Has something happened to one of your family? I’m glad I dropped by today.”
“No, it’s no one in the family. I just need time to think.” What could she say? Time to think wasn’t exactly true. Time to be away. Her eyes started tearing. She withdrew her hand from his.
“Is this about us?”
“Yes.”
Stirrings sounded in Mr. Chestley’s office. Celia hoped and didn’t hope he’d put in an appearance. She wanted to be alone with Edward, but it was increasingly painful, knowing what she did.
“Celia, can I see you tonight, after work?”
“I don’t think so. I have a lot to do to get ready.”
“How long are you going to be gone?”
“A while.”
“What do you mean? Will it be long?”
“It could be.”
“Celia, don’t do this to us,” his deep voice pleaded. “Don’t do this to me.”
“I’m doing what is best.”
“What you believe is best.”
“Please, Edward, don’t make this harder than it is. I—I wouldn’t have chosen this way. Believe me.”
He stood for some moments, silent, as if taking in what she had just said, wondering what to do. “So you are leaving the day after tomorrow? What time?”
“My train leaves at two thirty in the afternoon.”
“I’ll pick you up at one o’clock.”
“It doesn’t take more than fifteen minutes to drive to the station.”
“You’ll want to arrive in plenty of time. Besides—”
She couldn’t countermand him. Her eyes had been flitting to the side, down to the counter, anywhere but on him. Now, she forced herself to look directly at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t expect news of my departure to come out this way.”
Various emotions flitted across his face. Finally, he said, “I’ll come for you at one o’clock.” With that, he turned on his heel toward the door.
23
Celia sat on her bed, alone. Everything was ready for her departure. She had hurried at the end to be early; she didn’t want to keep Edward waiting, especially in this instance. She realized she might keep him waiting forever in the larger consideration of his desires. She would not brood over that now, but she was hard pressed to keep her mind from conjecturing about last night. Mrs. Macon had paid her a visit in the bookstore just before closing. Mr. Chestley was holed up in his office.
“Could I talk with you, Miss, while no one is around?”
“Surely.”
“I’ve come because Mr. Lyons isn’t himself. When I asked if anything was wrong, he gave me a long, hard look and said, ‘Miss Thatcher is leaving.’ Then he half slammed the door to his library and I haven’t seen him since. His supper has gone cold on the table.
“I heard the scuttlebutt about the flower show and all. And all I’ve got to say is that he’s been misjudged by this town, and I wanted you
to know it. His wife wasn’t all they thought she was. He wouldn’t say this about Marguerite because it would hurt his pride, but she had a streak in her, flirtatious I call it. When they had parties, I’d see her flirting with the men. Subtle-like, while her back was turned to the rest of the party, using her eyes from underneath her lashes, and little smiles. Then, once she entertained a man while Mr. Lyons was away to Boston. That visitor kept staying and staying, and when I finally asked her if it was wise, she told me in no uncertain terms if I told Mr. Lyons, she would see I lost my job. For a long time, I didn’t say anything, but then I just had to tell him. I was so surprised when he said he had known for a long time.”
Mrs. Macon’s hands gripped the counter. “You know, Mr. Lyons was always a gentleman, and never went into that part of her to others. But I thought you should know before . . . Well, I guess I’ve said enough. I know he wouldn’t want me down here, so I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t say anything. But he sets a powerful lot by you, and I didn’t want you leaving because of gossip about how he treated Marguerite. The town didn’t see her for what she really was. And he has his pride.”
Celia had thanked Mrs. Macon warmly, and said no she hadn’t realized this, but also, Marguerite wasn’t the reason she was leaving. Then she very kindly walked the housekeeper to the door before telling Mr. Chestley he could lock up after her.
But knowing this now made leaving harder.
Her hands twisted in her lap. Edward had specified he’d come an hour and a half before the train’s departure. How could she face him? To be with him that long alone? Earlier, she had asked Mrs. Chestley to accompany her.
“Celia, you know I would like nothing more, but Mr. Chestley said he needs me. I’ll just say goodbye to you at the house, see that everything’s in good order and then must hurry off to the bookstore.”
It seemed strange that Mrs. Chestley couldn’t come with her to the station, she very much doubted if her husband needed her that much. He had said his goodbye that noon. “Now, you know you will always have a place with us, Celia.” He had closed the store for the lunch hour, which he didn’t usually do, to be with her as she ate her last meal with them. In this case, he’d seemed casual about attending to the store.
Any minute now Edward would be announced. Abruptly, she fell on her knees, burying her face in her hands. “Oh Father,” she prayed, “help me! Help me to be strong. Help me discern what is best for us, for both our hearts. Especially in light of what I learned about Marguerite. And, Lord, I supplicate You for Edward’s soul. Do not let him die apart from You. Help me to be both firm and winsome in this battle. I don’t want to disappoint You or cause You shame. In Christ’s name I pray, Amen.”
She waited silently on her knees until some degree of quietness settled on her soul. She then rose to spend the last minutes with Mrs. Chestley. But as soon as she reached for her satchel, she heard a knock at the front door. She exited the bedroom to find Mrs. Chestley rising from her chair.
“That will be Mr. Lyons or his handyman.” Mrs. Chestley opened the front door.
“Come in, Ned. We have a trunk and suitcase in the bedroom.”
While Ned walked over to the bedroom, Mrs. Chestley took Celia’s hands and lowered her voice. “You look very fetching, my dear. That beribboned scrap of a hat adds the perfect touch. Mrs. Harrod has been most generous to you.”
“You don’t think it too modish for my family?”
“Your family will see a new side of you, certainly. But remember, by looking lovely you do honor to the man escorting you to the train station. Why don’t you go out to him now. . . .”
Celia stepped outside. Edward directed Ned where to place the trunk. The last case strapped to the carriage, Mrs. Chestley turned to her. “Now, dear, you must know how much I’ve enjoyed your time with us. I will not call this ‘Adieu,’ as the French would say; that is too final, but rather ‘Au revoir.’ ”
“You and Mr. Chestley must come for a visit,” Celia said. “You know Mother and Father would love to see you. Our family certainly warmed your hearth enough in the past.”
“Maybe we will at that. Certainly, if you don’t return to us soon enough.”
Throughout this exchange, Edward stood respectfully to the side. Celia didn’t know how this goodbye with Mrs. Chestley affected him. She hadn’t told him how long she would be gone, but she had cleared out her things from her room. In effect, she was leaving for good.
After a hard hug from Mrs. Chestley, Celia allowed Edward to hand her up into the carriage. “Why don’t you sit by this window to better see Mrs. Chestley,” he suggested, then walked to the other side and climbed in.
As the carriage took off, Celia leaned forward to blow Mrs. Chestley a kiss. A few moments later, her friend was lost from view and Celia sat back against the cushion. Edward had seated himself beside her. After they passed the block of stores and houses, he moved closer to her and quietly took one white gloved hand, then the other in both of his. Celia allowed the fond expression of farewell. She had wondered if such a gesture would happen en route to the station. She had both looked forward to it and dreaded it. She wanted to be strong and not let her guard down, giving him false hope, yet her womanly soul yearned to know he loved her. . . . She could not meet his eyes, however, and continued to look out the window.
Ned turned down a side street. At this she glanced at Edward. “This is not the way to the station.”
“Maybe not the direct route, but certainly the most scenic.”
How like him to indulge her love of beauty. Sure enough, he had chosen a route on the edge of town where a forest and then a glade showed out her side of the carriage. Even while her heart felt pain, it also felt peace sitting with Edward holding her hands and looking out on all this beauty. She should have trusted him to do something lovely at parting.
Then the carriage turned off to the side of the road and stopped. Edward took one of his hands from hers and leaning over, shut the curtains on his side of the carriage facing the road. “I’ve instructed Ned to stop for a few minutes so that we could have this time together. Celia, do I need to tell you I dread the thought of your going? This is so sudden, so last minute. I haven’t been able to think or plan—Celia, why all this luggage? It looks as if you’re taking all your worldly possessions.”
“I’m afraid so, at least what I had at the Chestleys.”
“But why? Aren’t you coming back?”
“I don’t know, Edward.”
He held her hands more firmly. “Is it as serious as that, our differences in view?”
“It’s not only about that. I can’t stay—that’s all I can say.”
“Celia, look at me.” She turned, honoring his request. After a few moments, he lifted one gloved hand to his lips, then the other. As she looked into his dark searching eyes, tears sprang to hers.
He lowered her hands and reached for his handkerchief. After she gratefully took it and wiped her eyes, he put his arm around her and drew her to him, resting her head against his chest. “You don’t want this parting any more than I do.” He stated it quietly but with a note of triumph. “You will not tell me why you feel so impelled to leave?” He held her closer. “Then I will tell you. Despite our disagreement, you feel the same oneness with me as I do with you. I am the match for your soul as you are for mine. This is something for which we have both longed. We want each other. We need each other. Yet, there is this one barrier, and you have erected it. Religion. God. Whatever you want to call it. But I want to go on record here that it is not I who have erected it. I would take you as you are. You are my soul! What has God to do with that?”
He pressed his lips to her head near her ear and let them rest there. She sensed, felt him drinking in the fragrance of her hair. His words of love were like darts in her heart.
He whispered, “We don’t need God to talk with each other, to share our deepest thoughts, our hearts.”
She felt her heart failing. To be this close and hear him say s
uch things. Oh, how she wanted to let go all their contention and be at peace with him. She turned to try to face him, to draw away from his closeness, but he held her fast.
“I cannot talk like this, Edward.”
“You can talk very well.”
“Edward, I can only reiterate how important God is to me.”
“Celia. Celia.” He said the words tenderly. After a few moments he raised his head, loosened his hold enough so she could look up at him. “We can agree to disagree. We will disagree on many things. If we disagree without rancor, it will spice our conversation. And then we will call a truce afterward and sit as we are sitting now. I declare it thus.”
She couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, it’s obvious we would disagree on a number of subjects. My parents certainly did.” She was silent a moment. “I wish you could meet them, particularly my father. He is a wise man who knows much about God. He would be able to articulate what I have said so poorly.”
“Hmm,” was all Edward responded. He held her close once again. Celia could feel his lips once more caressing her hair. She didn’t have it in her to deny him. Then a knock sounded on the roof of the carriage. Moments later they started to move. Ned was watching the time.
A low groan came from deep within Edward. “Celia, whatever you may say, the strands of our individual lives are strongly entwined. You may run away from me, but you are mine.” His arms tightened around her, but he held her tenderly. They sat the remainder of the trip in silence.
Noises of other horses and carriages increased around them. Their conveyance stopped. Celia pulled away from him.
