Trusting Grace

by Maggie Brendan

  “We are here for a quick cup of coffee and perhaps a slice of pie,” Owen told the waitress. It was too early for lunch, and he intended to save that time for Grace and the children. “That okay with you, Stella?”

  She turned to the waitress. “Please bring me a cup of your best hot tea.”

  The waitress giggled. “Ma’am, we’ve only got one kind and it is the best!”

  Owen nearly laughed until he caught the abashed look on Stella’s face. He suddenly felt sorry for her.

  “That will do,” Stella answered. “And a bit of lemon.”

  Owen gave her a level stare. “I thought everyone drank coffee. My mistake.”

  “I like coffee okay, but I prefer hot tea. I guess the habit came as a result of my father and mother. She always made delicious hot tea served in pretty china cups.”

  “How nice for you.”

  Stella leaned forward a bit to ask, “I know you didn’t ask me for a cup of coffee only. So what was your reason?”

  Owen chuckled. “Reason? I merely want to get to know you after seeing you in the mercantile. I’ve never seen you here before. To be truthful, I’m a widower living with my daughter at Bidwell Farms. What about you?”

  She fingered the gold watch fob on her blouse. “I . . . The truth is, running the boardinghouse keeps me so busy seeing to the needs of others that I rarely have a lot of free time. When I do, I enjoy my books, my cats, and long walks.”

  “I see. So do you enjoy being around people who come and go at the boardinghouse?”

  “Yes. But I have to admit that my pets and books are far superior to some of the folks who rent a room from me,” she said, laughing. “Oh, don’t look so serious. I was only joking.”

  He laughed then. “Thank goodness. I was beginning to think you were from royalty.” He decided he liked her green eyes with lines around them when she smiled. Her skin told him that she hadn’t protected her face from the elements like most women, so it was hard to judge her age. He thought it might be close to his own.

  She squirmed in her chair. “Tell me about yourself.”

  “Not a lot to tell. My wife, Margaret, died a long time ago, so I came to live with my daughter, Grace. She was married to a potato farmer who died three years ago. Then my health became an issue, and the doctor thinks I may have had a stroke. It’s affected my legs somewhat.”

  “I’m sorry. Health is more valuable than wealth in my opinion, especially now that I’m older.”

  The tea and coffee were served, and Owen watched as she added a squeeze of lemon and a teaspoon of sugar. There was no mark on her otherwise tan hands where a wedding band would have been.

  “If you don’t mind me asking, are you a widow?”

  She gave a small laugh. “No. I’ve never married. Never felt the need to.”

  “What about having a friendship? I’m in need of company other than my daughter occasionally.”

  Stella tilted her head, openly sizing him up. “What makes you think I need any companionship?” she asked with a twinkle in her eye.

  He felt his shoulder muscles relax. “Maybe a lucky guess, but seeing as you and I are close in age. I thought maybe . . .”

  Their eyes locked above the rims of their cups, and they burst out laughing together.

  The two of them continued talking about their interests, the weather, and things going on in town. Then Stella sipped her tea and Owen enjoyed his strong cup of coffee in amicable silence while they watched passersby going to and fro on the Saturday afternoon.

  Finally, she looked at her watch fob. “I must be going now. It was quite the morning getting to know you. Perhaps we could do this again, and if there’s no pie, I make tasty donuts,” she said, retrieving her book and glasses.

  Owen pushed his chair back. She’d said perhaps as though there would be another time, and he suddenly felt joyful—a feeling he hadn’t experienced in a long time. “I would look forward to that, Stella. I need to get back before Grace sends the sheriff after me.”

  Without mentioning it, she placed her arm to offer him support as they strolled outside. Owen felt almost giddy.

  18

  By the time they’d wrapped up their shopping with much laughter and chatter, Grace felt she’d known the children a long time. Sarah complained of hunger pains, which was no surprise since the shopping had taken a while.

  “Let’s find my pop and scurry on down to the café for lunch before we head back home. I think you children deserve it for humoring me with the shopping.”

  “I don’t see him, Mrs. Bidwell,” Tom said.

  “I saw him go outside a while ago,” Becky mentioned.

  “Maybe he wanted some fresh air. He loves watching the Saturday crowd in the streets. We’ll find him,” Grace said confidently.

  They gathered up their purchases but hadn’t gone far when they noticed Pop walking toward them with a woman. Grace was surprised. A timid look splattered across Owen’s face when he noticed Grace, as if he’d been caught stealing one of her hot biscuits before supper was on the table.

  They stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. “Pop, we were just looking for you.”

  “Well, here I am, then,” he stammered. “Uh . . . this is Stella Whitfield. We were sharing stories over a cup of coffee while you shopped. Stella, this is my daughter, Grace, and her newly acquired charges.”

  Grace was mystified. Where had he met this woman? Why was Stella holding her father’s arm? “Hello, Mrs. Whitfield.”

  Stella nodded to the children with a tiny smile, her hat brim bobbing. “It’s Miss Whitfield,” she emphasized without blinking an eye. “But please call me Stella.”

  The children murmured a greeting and it was obvious they wanted to hurry along. Sarah and Tom were poking each other, and Becky was staring across the street at another young girl who had caught her eye.

  “All right. I will, but you must call me Grace.” She turned to her father. “I thought I’d take us all to lunch at the Timberline today.”

  Stella started to move away. “If you’ll excuse me, I must get home and back to my novel. I can’t wait to see how the story ends.”

  “Please stay and dine with us,” Grace offered out of politeness, and her pop said, “Yes, why don’t you?”

  Stella took two more steps, backing away. “No, thank you, though I appreciate the invitation.”

  “Then perhaps you can come to the farm for lunch some time.” Owen shoved his hands in his pockets.

  In spite of herself, Grace heard herself agreeing with him. “Yes, anytime.”

  “Goodbye, children.” Stella beamed down at them.

  “I hope to see you around soon,” Owen said.

  “Me too. Bye now.” With a curt nod and her determined way of walking, she darted off.

  Immediately, Grace looked at her father. “You’ve never mentioned Stella, Pop.” Grace knew she must sound annoyed, so she tried to speak low enough so the children walking behind them couldn’t hear.

  “There’s not much to tell. I just met her on the street today.”

  “Pop! You can’t be serious,” Grace sputtered as she stopped at the door of the café.

  He screwed his mouth to one side, then finally said, “Close to it. I first saw her in the mercantile when I came in with Robert for the chicken coop supplies. Eli told me who she was.”

  “Can we please eat now? I’m starving,” Sarah pleaded, tugging on Grace’s skirt.

  “Yes, yes of course. Let’s go inside.” Tom, Becky, and Sarah filed past her, and Grace paused, looking at her father again. “I want to know more about Stella when we get home.”

  Owen chuckled. “Don’t fret, daughter—you’re not responsible for me entirely.”

  Robert shoved his hat back, wiping his brow with his large handkerchief. He glanced again up the road from where he was working on the fence railing for the third time. Grace had only been gone about three hours, but it seemed like all day. He was used to having her come to wherever he was working an
d either give him advice about the chore at hand—which he didn’t need—or spend her time with mindless chatter. But for some reason, he was missing that today.

  It was hard to believe how quickly the children had taken to her and her to them. Almost like they belonged to her. She was what they needed—a motherly influence. While he should be grateful, he was concerned that the kids would get too used to her and then he’d be leaving. Lately, he’d given leaving a lot of thought. He wouldn’t leave right away, but after the potato crop was in and to the market. He couldn’t stay here forever, and from the looks of the visit from that businessman who was courting her, he wouldn’t be needed here at all in the very near future.

  Then why was Grace always in his thoughts when she wasn’t around? Hadn’t he been burned by Ada? Though he’d fallen head over heels in love with her, in his heart, he thought she’d used him—knowing she was dying and needing to find someone to take her children. He’d been duped. Just like that. Women! Can’t trust them.

  He muttered under his breath, and because he wasn’t watching what he was doing, he cut his hand on a nail that he was pulling off the fence. Yanking his handkerchief from his back pocket, he mopped away at the blood dripping down his hand. He heard the children’s voices before they appeared up the lane, so he quickly wrapped his hand tightly and hid it from view.

  Grace stopped the wagon before driving past him to the house. “Did you miss us?” she cheerfully called out to him.

  I certainly did! But Robert didn’t say it. “I’ve been too busy to notice your absence.”

  His remark didn’t seem to faze her. “Why don’t you take a break and we’ll show you our purchases?”

  “Me and Becky are gonna look so pretty on Monday!” Sarah said in excitement.

  “All right, if you insist.” Robert laid aside his hammer.

  Owen motioned for him to hop into the wagon. “May as well ride rather than walk.”

  “If you insist,” Robert replied again. He reached up to grab the side of the wagon but forgot his injured hand and winced in pain.

  “Son, what’s wrong?” Owen eyed him, while Grace’s head jerked around to see him step into the back of the wagon to sit with the children.

  Robert shook his head. “Only a minor cut. It’s nothing to worry about.”

  When they arrived at the house, everyone piled out of the wagon, and Tom assisted Owen to the front porch while Robert reached up and took Grace’s hands. She alighted in one swift motion, his hands holding her in his steady grasp. Her hair held the scent of fresh lilacs, and he found himself wanting to reach up and touch her honey-colored tresses. Instead, he took a step back.

  Her eyes held his and in them he found warmth and concern.

  “Are you certain your hand is okay? Do you want me to take a look at it?” she asked.

  He suddenly had a hard time breathing and realized he was holding his breath. “I’m sure it’s okay. I nicked it on a nail while repairing the fence. That’s all.”

  The children were eager to show him what Grace had purchased and interrupted, all trying to show him their new things at once.

  “Look at my new boots. I had to put them on since Miss Grace made me throw my old ones out.” Tom grinned and stuck his foot out in front so Robert could admire them. He was standing up taller than before and clutched a brown parcel in his hands.

  “Very nice, Tom.” Robert looked down at his brogans. My, the boy’s feet have grown. Why haven’t I noticed? “Looks like some sturdy boots that will last a while.” Robert eyed the package. “What’s that under your arm?”

  “It’s new pants and a shirt. Miss Grace picked them out. Want me to open it up to show you?”

  “No need. I’m sure they’re nice, and when you get a bath, you can put those on.” Robert looked over at Becky and Sarah, who were eager to show him their new dresses next. While he watched them take their dresses out of the brown paper wrapping, he realized that they were nothing more than little children, happy to have something new to wear and to have Grace and Owen looking on them fondly. It occurred to him that they’d all been lonely since they’d lost Ada. He’d been so busy thinking only of how Ada had deceived him, and taking it out on the children who were basically floundering as they coped with the loss of their mother. He suddenly felt like a huge disappointment to the children . . . his children.

  Sarah tugged on his sleeve. “Aren’t they pretty, Papa?”

  Robert came back to the present. “Yes, sweet Sarah. Both you and Becky have chosen pretty dresses. Since I know nothing of that sort of shopping, I’m glad Grace took you under her wing. I hope there will be more dresses in the near future.”

  Owen cleared his throat, and Robert thought he saw tears in Grace’s eyes. “Why don’t we all go have a glass of cold milk? I bet you Grace has something sweet to go with it.” He motioned from his chair on the porch.

  Grace piped up, “We could have the sugar cookies I saved if you haven’t already discovered them, Pop.”

  Owen looked sheepishly at his daughter, and Robert wanted to laugh. “I found them all right, but I only took one. Honest.”

  They all laughed and trooped inside for refreshments, and Robert felt at home for the first time in a long while. His day was ending on a positive note, but he still needed to tell Grace she’d need a new roof soon.

  19

  Grace stood before the cheval mirror with the girls looking on, admiring the dress she’d donned for her dinner date with Warren. She’d decided on one of the dresses that she normally wore to church, a frock of simple linen-colored broadcloth trimmed with black buttons on the matching bolero jacket. Although it wasn’t new, it had a certain fetching look for spring.

  “You are very beautiful,” Becky cooed, and Sarah bobbed her head happily and said, “Yes. Almost as pretty as mama.”

  Grace twirled around to gaze at their sweet faces. “I take that as a very high compliment coming from you two.”

  “What’s com-pli-ment mean?” Sarah asked.

  “It means you’ve given me your personal very high approval if you’ve compared me to your mother.” Grace smiled down at Sarah’s serious face. “I couldn’t ask for more.”

  “Oh, I hope that Mr. Warren knows how pretty and sweet you are,” Sarah commented seriously.

  “We’ll have to see about that. I think I’d better go downstairs. He’ll be here any moment. Thank you for helping me to decide on something to wear tonight, girls,” Grace said as she walked to the door. “Good night, dears,” she called over her shoulder.

  She heard Becky say quietly to her sister, “I wish she were going with Papa instead.”

  Whatever gave Becky the notion Robert would want that? Well, they’d better not get their hopes up. It was quite clear that Robert was keeping his distance when it came to her.

  When Grace got to the bottom of the stairs, Robert was just coming through the front door, but when he saw her, he paused with one hand on the doorknob and the other one on his hip. “My, but you look nice.” His jaw twitched and he said, “I’m here to play chess with your father.”

  She walked over to him. “Thank you, Robert.” His eyes briefly swept over her, then he moved to close the door.

  “I think Warren is driving up now.”

  “Well, at least he’s on time,” she said, reaching for her wrap that hung by the door. “I’m glad you are willing to sit a while with my pop while I’m out. The girls are upstairs. I’m not sure where Tom is.”

  “He’s around somewhere.” Robert shifted from one boot heel to the other. “I appreciate the early supper you made for us. Your kindness is proving to lift the kids’ mood somehow, and I’m grateful.” He chuckled, and his eyes shone with pleasure.

  “Do you think so?” Grace looked directly into his eyes, excited that he was smiling after mentioning the kids. It was one of the few times he’d smiled at her, and if she was responsible for the comment, then she was more than thrilled. She wanted to help the children in any way she could
.

  “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” His deep-gray eyes focused on hers briefly. Then he reached out, and she thought he was going to touch her arm, but instead he took the wrap from her to gently cover her shoulders while her insides quivered. She drew herself up with reproof. How foolish she was thinking he would intentionally touch her, and she was glad that he couldn’t know her thoughts.

  Warren parked the carriage and walked up the steps, looking spiffy and smelling of cologne. Robert excused himself to the parlor.

  “Are you ready, Grace?” he asked as he stepped inside. “You seem eager—you are waiting by the door.” He was smiling, but his eyes weren’t reflecting joy.

  Grace bristled at the way he greeted her. She’d taken the time to look her best, and that’s all he could say? She thought back to Robert’s admiring look. Was the handsome Warren used to receiving plenty of attention from the ladies? If so, he was courting the wrong person.

  “I’m sorry if you thought that, but I was chatting with Robert, my hired man. He’s come to play chess with my father.”

  Warren waved his hand. “Oh, that’s good.” Then he quickly added, “We must be going. I’ve made a reservation for us.”

  “I’m sure my father would like to meet you.”

  “Oh? I suppose we have a few minutes to spare.” Though he’d acquiesced, Grace could tell he didn’t like interruptions in his plans.

  She closed the front door and walked him to the parlor where her father and Robert sat hunched over a chessboard. They looked up as she walked in.

  “Pop, and Robert, I’d like both of you to meet Warren Sullivan.”