A Heart Most Certain

by Melissa Jagears

  Greene slipped a small tablet from his pocket.

  “First, the reason I built a mansion in the middle of nowhere.”

  The pastor leaned forward as eagerly as the editor.

  “It’s in memory of my late wife. The city doesn’t need to know her history, but she died hurting. It was the house of her dreams, so I built it, but I’ve struggled with figuring out what to do with it until now.” He raised his eyes to heaven, hoping God would keep Greene from adding to his words.

  “The Teaville Ladies Moral Society and others rally against the saloons downtown, but they don’t truly know what’s going on there. Of course they know the call of cards, booze, and women draw men from our town. And despite the fact that brothels are illegal, madams have enough women to fill their rooms.”

  Both men nodded. And of course they would. Painting the red-light district in a bad light was easy. Convincing anyone that the people there were worth saving was an entirely different matter.

  He forced himself not to squirm. “However, the city only fines the women, though the men create the ‘need’ for their existence. The officials do nothing for streetwalkers besides throw them back into the district to fine again later. And that’s not helping anything. They should be ministered to so they can leave their sordid lives behind. But polite society balks at getting involved.” Which included the two men he was preaching at. Thankfully they seemed to be willing to hear him out.

  “What those of us who find ourselves on the right side of the tracks don’t understand is, there are countless children affected by everyone’s poor choices—those of the men and women who make use of the red-light district, and those that refuse to offer real help. If we want to stop the spread of vice, we don’t need more laws or fines, we need to help the women and children leave that world behind.”

  Nicholas paused until Greene’s scribbling slowed.

  “The city found out that my housekeeper and I have been sheltering some of the women who wanted to escape The Line. They have slapped me with fines because I’ve taken away the fines they could’ve collected from those women if they’d remained behind.”

  The pastor cleared his throat uncomfortably, but the editor squirmed in his seat with a smile on his face, probably heady with the thought of how many papers such a controversial statement would sell.

  “But as much as I want to continue helping prostitutes reform, I think I should start with the children. They should have an easier time finding a place in polite society if aided. So I am turning my home into an orphanage specifically for the abandoned children of prostitutes and children who’ve been forced to work in brothels.”

  The pastor rubbed the back of his neck. “Surely there can’t be that many children.”

  Nicholas tried not to look at the man as if he were stupid. “Given the nature of the business, I’d think many children would be expected.”

  “I just mean . . .” Pastor Wisely grimaced and pulled at his tie. “Well, I haven’t seen many children.”

  His pastor wasn’t a bad guy, but he was just as sheltered as Lydia once was. “How often do you visit that part of town?”

  Wisely cringed. “Point taken. So are you wanting to only help little children, or those old enough to have been . . . put to work?”

  “Both. If the older ones forced into the business want to escape, they’ll find sanctuary with me.”

  Greene looked up. “Forced? Being the product of such liaisons, they’re bound to—”

  Nicholas gripped his chair’s arms. He knew Greene was key to getting the town to accept his plans, so he couldn’t rile him. “They are sinners who’ve been given extra opportunity to sin, yes. But they’re also children, and what hope do they have if no one will help them? How can we condemn children who’ve grown up knowing nothing but that life if we are unwilling to help them find a better way?”

  His mouth had grown dry, and he wished he’d taken the pastor’s offer to get some coffee before they started. He’d opined about this before to a handful of people who agreed with him, but now his heart fluttered doing so in front of those who could damage his ministry if they chose to work against him.

  Although he’d been impressed with Lydia’s speech in front of those gathered for the Sunday prayer meeting, he was even more awed that she had taken that stand before an audience she hadn’t handpicked, as he had. He turned to Mr. Greene, determined to say all he’d prepared to say. “Before you write poorly of those who frequent The Line in the editorials you and your wife print, do you talk to them about their side of the story?”

  Greene jolted in his seat as if he’d discovered he had been sitting on a pin cushion.

  Wisely cleared his throat. “But it wouldn’t be a good idea for you to live alone with lots of young children, especially girls who’ve, uh, started working.” The pastor’s face turned pink.

  “I figured our church would help, and I’d need them to. If a handful of upstanding citizens supported me, and Greene here kept from editorializing against it, then this town might stop treating a specific kind of sinner worse than another.”

  Greene licked his finger and flipped a page. “Getting an entire town to accept prostitutes, even unfortunate child prostitutes, is a mighty big order.”

  “That’s why I’m starting here—you two have a powerful influence over the people I need to reach.”

  “You’ll need more than just our voices.”

  “Then which men in this town do you think will be the most receptive to the idea? If I get a few to rally around me, maybe I’ll have a chance. I can’t move my mansion, so I need to earn this town’s acceptance. God’s been teaching me that I am only one man, and He isn’t expecting me to be His hands to the poor and powerless by myself. So I’m going to hold an event to raise funds and trust God will provide men of influence to come alongside me.” He looked over at Greene. “And I’ll buy a full page advertisement for the party. It’ll be the talk of the town.”

  “It definitely will be.” Greene huffed. “What’s the date?”

  “Two Fridays from now.” Nicholas pinned his gaze on Greene. “Can I count on both of you?”

  Even if Wisely had qualms about helping, surely he wouldn’t deny Nicholas’s plan was right. But Greene wasn’t a believer, as far as Nicholas knew, and though an upright man, he wasn’t against stirring up controversy to boost his sales. But then again, money talked. “Did I mention I’m planning to advertise in the Teaville Journal exclusively if I feel my ministry is being covered objectively?”

  Greene chuckled and flipped his notepad cover down. “Sold.” He stood and held out his hand. “Include first rights to any other fascinating news of yours, and I’ll make sure I get your take on things before I run anything. I can’t guarantee I won’t print something that paints you in a bad light, but if you talk to me first, I’ll talk to you before news goes to print.”

  Nicholas shook Greene’s hand and let him pass to leave the room. He was probably running straight for the Journal’s office to get the article in before the press ran tomorrow’s paper.

  “Oh, wait.” Greene spun on his heel and stuck his hand in his chest pocket. “I received some information this morning that you were interested in.” He handed Nicholas a folded piece of paper and marched back out.

  Fingering the note, Nicholas shut the door behind him. Probably another dead end, but right now he had to be sure of Wisely. He turned to his pastor, who was quietly staring out the window. “What about you? Can I count on your help?”

  “Where is this coming from, Nicholas? I’ve asked you a hundred times to get more involved with the church, and you’ve always refused.”

  “Let’s just say, someone’s shown me that I need to give our congregation a chance.”

  “And who would that be?”

  “Lydia King.”

  “I saw you hiding in the balcony that night. But I would’ve thought that circus would’ve hardened your heart to the potential of my flock.”

  “Lydia, a
t one time, acted much like them. To be honest, at one time, so did I. But she stood by her new convictions despite being unjustly accused. She didn’t back down.”

  He took a seat and looked at the ceiling. Confession was good for the soul supposedly, but trusting anyone came hard for him. But he had to start trusting people, and who could he trust if not this man? “God started changing Lydia by using me, despite my high-handed ways. For years, I expected God to change the men and women of our congregation without my help—which He surely can—but most times He wants to use us.”

  He couldn’t go on pretending he could judge hearts. He needed to let the Lord do His work, through him instead of despite him. “I’ve been very unwilling to be used in certain areas.” He laced his fingers together and looked at the ground between his feet. “I can’t obey God’s command to be a part of the body of Christ if I insist on working alone.”

  “That took a lot for you to say.”

  “Yes, and I still don’t fully believe it’s possible in here.” He tapped on his chest, then moved to tap his temple. “But I can’t justify my own disobedience up here.”

  Pastor Wisely frowned. “I’m not sure your orphanage will get much support. Considering how specific you’re being in what kind of children you’ll be sheltering, you might not attract many adoptive parents.”

  “But you think we could muster up some support?”

  “God can do anything.” The pastor’s frown turned into a huge smile. “He can even persuade a cynical loner to ask for help.”

  Nicholas gave in to his own smile. “I suppose that is quite the miracle. So why not believe God will do another? And speaking of miracles, do you still want me to become a deacon?”

  “Indeed?” Wisely’s brows hit his nonexistent hairline and he whistled. “Christmas is the season of miracles. Lord, forgive my unbelief.”

  “And I plan to stop picking and choosing what things to fund and trust God with my whole tithe to this church.”

  “Tithing, ministry, becoming a deacon. What spell has Lydia cast upon you?”

  “No spell, sir.”

  “Sir?” A half smile appeared. “And you just stopped looking at me. She has a hold over you.”

  “She has no hold, she’d uh, . . .” He forced himself to look up, but he knew his expression wasn’t as neutral as he intended. “She’s no different than any of the other members I hope to win to my side.”

  “And here I thought you’d just learned to stop being stubborn. Don’t dig in your heels against any feelings you have for her.” He shook his finger at him as if he were a misbehaving dog. “She won’t be free for you to win if you wait too long.”

  “Taking my time to consider things carefully isn’t being stubborn. I’ll not jump into marriage hastily again.”

  The pastor’s face brightened.

  Blast it. He’d brought up marriage all on his own.

  But there were things he needed to be sure about. She’d only just become free from Sebastian, so his thoughts about her had only just become . . . entertainable. He needed time to be sure she wouldn’t marry him for money. She’d freely admitted to engaging herself to Sebastian for that exact reason, so why would he be any different?

  Pastor Wisely cleared his throat and Nicholas startled.

  “Don’t do it, my friend. Don’t wait. She’ll get away.” He steepled his hands against his chin and shook his head. “I never thought I’d see the day Nicholas Lowe humbled himself, but today I did. A woman who can soften a man enough to make him vulnerable indicates a worthy woman—and a man in love.”

  “I can’t be.” His words ripped through him. “It’s too soon. She’s . . . she’s too young.”

  Wisely laughed. “Now that’s quite the excuse to offer me. Bernadette is thirteen years my junior.” He stood. “When you find the woman you’re meant to be with, don’t hesitate. The Nicholas I know is not a coward. If you truly intend to tithe, then you’ve let go of a portion of your money—good. But don’t keep a tether on your heart. The right woman will change you into the best man you’ve ever been.”

  But did God have to make all these changes in the space of a few months? Nicholas put on his cap and stood as well. “Thanks for the advice. But I’m sure God will give me more than a few days to figure things out.”

  42

  Struggling up Nicholas’s driveway, Lydia wrapped her arms tighter about herself, less because of the early morning frigid temperatures and more because of the churning inside of her. She’d gone home with a headache and lain upon her bed all night thinking through every possible way to escape the Littles’ snare, but she couldn’t think of a way out without sacrificing someone else’s safety.

  But Nicholas regularly sacrificed himself for people, people who meant even less to him than she did.

  Or at least, she hoped she meant something to him by now. And if she were wed to Sebastian, she couldn’t help with the orphanage. Surely he’d be willing to help her even if there was risk to himself.

  No matter how much she wanted him to help for more heroic, romantic reasons, she couldn’t let herself hope for that. She had enough disappointment to deal with at the moment.

  His hulking white mansion loomed large against a pale blue sky, dawn’s light reflecting in its windows. She prayed he’d not left for work yet. Lydia hurried toward the porch and knocked on the door.

  Miss O’Conner answered with a smile. “Miss King. What can I do for you?”

  Rubbing her arms, she looked past the housekeeper. “Is Mr. Lowe at home?”

  She shook her head and pulled the door open wider. “I’m afraid not, but why don’t you come in and warm up?”

  “I can’t.” Well, she could stand to be warmer, but she couldn’t stand to wait. “I need to find Mr. Lowe. Is he at the lumberyard, the gas office, the hotel?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know where he is.”

  Her stomach squeezed as if not seeing him this very hour meant she’d end up at the altar with Sebastian. She had three days until the engagement party. His family couldn’t very well drag her to the altar, but they could drag her name through the mud if she didn’t figure out a way around them. Rather than simply evade them though, she hoped to get them behind bars. That way anyone mixed up with the Littles would be safe from further blackmailing. “Perhaps I will come in—if you don’t mind me waiting for him to return.” Lydia stepped inside and stretched her cold fingers in the warm air. “He does come home for lunch, yes?”

  “I’m sorry, dear.” She shut the door. “But I don’t expect him back for days.”

  Her feet felt as if they’d sunk in cement. “What?”

  Miss O’Conner simply shrugged and started for the dining room. “He had business and left last night. But you should still have some hot tea before you go. It’s awful cold out there.”

  More awful than Miss O’Conner knew.

  Lydia pressed a hand to the pain between her eyes.

  He was gone.

  “Do you know where he is?” Surely he wouldn’t be gone that long. “When he plans to return?”

  Miss O’Conner turned and frowned at how far Lydia was behind her. “I don’t.”

  Lydia staggered over to sit on an uncomfortable-looking chair. Now what? Who else could save her?

  “Are you all right, miss?” The housekeeper had come back and gripped her upper arm.

  “No, I’m not.” She needed Nicholas more than she needed anybody else. Who might know where he was if his housekeeper didn’t? His driver. She clamped onto Miss O’Conner’s hand. “Where does Mr. Parker’s wife live?” No wait, she had dementia. “Or rather, his daughters. Surely he told them where he was taking Mr. Lowe.”

  Scratching under her gauzy cap, Miss O’Conner shook her head. “I’m afraid he didn’t take Mr. Parker. He left on the last train.”

  Could the train station tell her where he went? But what could she do if she found out? It wasn’t as if she had money to buy a ticket or had time to track him down.

/>   “What is it you need?” Miss O’Conner squatted beside her. “Mr. Lowe leaves me with some authority. Do you need a ride home? A few dollars? His doctor can see to your mother, if needed. Dr. Lindon can charge it to his account.”

  Lydia let out a pitiful groan. If only all she needed was money for a doctor’s visit. “I’m afraid you can’t help me.”

  What could a housekeeper and a part-time librarian do to bring down a mayor and a lawyer who seemed to have half the town under their thumbs? “I just need Nicholas.”

  In more ways than one.

  But the only hope she’d had was his help, and now she didn’t even have that. “I need to get him a message. As soon as he returns, could you give him a note? It’s urgent.” She looked around for paper. “Do you think he might send a telegram about his whereabouts?”

  “He never has before.” She stood and headed for a desk in a nearby room, and Lydia followed.

  She doubted Nicholas would ever stoop to ask her to be more than a coworker and confidante, but what would he think of her if he saw the advertisement announcing her engagement before she told him what had happened?

  He’d believe her to be the most spineless woman ever. “Give him my message as soon as he arrives, and please notify me the instant he returns. Or if he sends a wire.”

  “Are you in trouble? Did you snatch away another girl?”

  That would have been far easier to deal with. “I wish that was my problem.”

  Miss O’Conner slid Nicholas’s inkwell toward her and pulled a sheet of fancy stationery from the top right drawer.

  Leaving off sensitive information, Lydia penned a quick note asking him to come see her immediately upon return.

  Nicholas might trust Miss O’Conner, but with how Sebastian and his family seemed to have their thumbs pressed upon so many, she’d not take chances. Surely Nicholas would return within three days and come see her.

  But what if he didn’t? Her father wouldn’t help her—the Littles already had him under their influence. Besides, he’d been pushing her in this direction for quite a while. And her mother was in no condition to deal with any of this.