“I don’t usually come to these things—I find them quite dull. However, I’m glad I didn’t miss this one,” Phillip Wayment said, walking up with a plate of chicken and potato salad. “Best entertainment I’ve had in quite a long time.”
“You saw?”
“I did. I’m pretty sure I’m the only one, though—I had taken refuge behind a large tree to escape some wagging tongues, and I had a decent vantage point.”
Robert sank down on a large stone that lined the edge of the pond. “Why on earth did I do that?”
“Well, it was Olivia Markham.”
“Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?”
“She’s a very strong-willed young woman, and I can’t say but what a dunking was good for her.”
Robert groaned and covered his face. “It was impulsive and coarse, and I completely forgot myself. What kind of gentleman would ever do such a thing? I’ve worked hard for seven years to overcome my temper, and I believed I had done it. Then along comes Miss Markham, challenging everything I am and everything I believe, everything that saved me, and instead of turning the other cheek, I reacted just as I would have years ago. Of course she doesn’t understand my circumstances—you’re one of the few who do, Phillip. I can’t expect her to treat me with the consideration of my past when she doesn’t know it. I should have spoken gently, helped her to see things in a different light, and instead, I threw her in the pond. In the deep end. Where the best fish are found, if you’re ever in the mood for trout.”
Phillip began to laugh. “And how do you know so much about the Perrys’ pond?”
“The senior Mr. Perry has given me an invitation to come here as often as I like. I knew the depth of the water was sufficient and that she wouldn’t come to harm, but the embarrassment, the indignity, when she was already embarrassed—Phillip, I’m no real man. I’m a coward who reacted out of anger.”
Phillip took another bite and chewed. “Well, there’s no going back. What’s done is done. The best thing you can do now is go apologize and do whatever you can to make it right. She may never forgive you, but at least you’ll know that you’ve tried. Oh, and I recommend staying away from water.”
Robert shook his head. “Such sage advice.”
“It seemed appropriate.”
Robert stared down the road, even though Miss Markham was long gone. “I can’t leave the picnic yet, but as soon as I can get away, I’ll go talk to her. I can’t let the sun go down on this animosity.” He paused. “You were escaping wagging tongues, you say?”
Phillip nodded. “Some of the women were discussing Jeanette, wondering if she would actually return to Topeka or decide to stay in New York at the end of her training. Apparently, they don’t feel that being married to me is enough incentive for a young girl to come back to this dusty place.”
“I do believe I’ve about had it with wagging tongues. They’ve caused a fair share of trouble today.” Robert stood up and shook the wrinkles from his pants. “I’ll go finish up my duty here, and then be on my way. I’ve demonstrated my ability to make mistakes—now I’ll need to demonstrate my ability to fix them.”
***
Mr. Perry had borrowed a soft white shawl from one of the ladies at the picnic, and when he picked Olivia up along the side of the road with his buggy, he draped the shawl around her shoulders. What a kind, thoughtful thing to do—so very unlike the so-called pastor, who didn’t even seem to feel sorry for what he’d done. Olivia pulled the knitted fabric more snugly around her shoulders and tried to enjoy the scenery as she had while driving onto the property, but her enthusiasm was decidedly dampened, both figuratively and literally.
“Tell me all about yourself, Miss Markham. My premonition was right—you were the most interesting person at today’s picnic, and I’d like to learn even more about you. How did you come to be in Topeka?”
Olivia doubted that he wanted to hear how she came chasing after Adam Brody. She was ready to forget that part of the story anyway. “I traveled here from New York a short time ago, and I’ve been working at the hotel ever since.” She raised and lowered a shoulder. “There’s not much else of interest to tell. My father’s a well-respected doctor, my mother is quite active on the social scene and with various different charitable causes, and then there’s me—the hopeless misfit of the family.” She’d tried to keep her voice light, and yet a tone of bitterness had crept in.
“Oh, come now. I’d hardly call yourself that. Why, aren’t you the choir director? It sounds to me as though you’re following in your mother’s footsteps, offering your time to a very good cause indeed.” He glanced over at her and smiled.
“You’re too kind,” she replied, but inwardly, she recoiled. She was following in her mother’s footsteps? That was the last thing she wanted. Her mother was so busy with this charity ball and that fundraising concert that she scarcely had time for Olivia. It felt like a very shallow charity when it didn’t even include one’s own daughter.
“You must be very talented,” Mr. Perry went on. “I know Pastor Osbourne sets great store by his choir and wouldn’t have chosen just anyone to conduct it.”
“It is very important to him.” Although Olivia couldn’t understand why—it’s not like it was a very good choir. What would the pastor do if she simply didn’t show up to church the next day? It would serve him right. He didn’t deserve her help after what he’d just done. She wasn’t even sure he’d deserved it before.
Olivia looked down at her dress. She was covered in bits of algae and who knew what else from that horrible pond. Mr. Perry was a charming companion, pointing out spots of interest as they passed and interjecting his own humorous opinion of Topeka and all the residents therein, but she couldn’t pull her thoughts away from what had happened with the pastor and the state of her dress. True, she had lost her temper, and it wasn’t right for her to have lectured him like she did, but his reaction was far and above what it should have been. Her decision was made—she most definitely would not be attending church the next day, and she wasn’t even going to tell him ahead of time. She would let it be a surprise, a thank you gift.
“Here we are.” Mr. Perry brought the buggy to a stop in front of the hotel, then sprang down to come around and give her a hand. When she alighted on the ground, he didn’t release his grasp for a moment, but instead, gave her fingers a slight squeeze. “This was a most enjoyable buggy ride, Miss Markham, and I would love to take another—under more favorable circumstances, of course.” He chuckled. “May I come back around tomorrow evening after supper?”
“I’d like that, Mr. Perry,” she said. It would be a pleasure to spend some time with a man who was so very different from what she had expected. Perhaps there was hope for Kansas after all.
He walked her up to the front door, touched the brim of his hat, and named a time that would fit in well with Olivia’s clean-up schedule. Then he was gone, guiding the buggy back the way he’d come from. It was only then that she realized he’d borrowed the pastor’s buggy to bring her home—it must have been the nearest one to hand. The irony was delicious—she was quite sure she’d left a wet spot on the seat. Then her smile faded. Poor innocent Mrs. Little would be the one to suffer from that.
“Olivia! What on earth happened?” Harriet was dusting the lobby when Olivia came in, and she almost dropped her rag. “You look like you fell in a river.”
“I was thrown into a pond,” Olivia replied, “so your guess is quite accurate.”
“Thrown into a pond?” Harriet came over and took Olivia’s sopping hat from her hand. “Did I hear you right?”
“You did indeed. By His Royal Majesty Pastor Osbourne, no less. I’ll tell you the whole story, but right now, I need a bath. I smell like the worst of what lives at the bottom of a fish-infested swamp.”
An hour later, freshly bathed and hair scrubbed until it shone, Olivia sat on her bed and told the other girls what had happened. Even Miss Hampton and Elizabeth’s mother, Agatha, came upstai
rs to hear the story.
“I can’t believe it,” Abigail said when Olivia was finished. “That’s just so . . . unlike him.”
“Perhaps it’s very much like him, but we didn’t see it until now,” Olivia retorted.
Miss Hampton shook her head. “I think it best that we not conjecture too much on this account, ladies. We can’t know what he was thinking at the time.”
“Maybe he thought Olivia had burst into flames, and he was trying to put out the fire,” Harriet suggested.
“Or she might have been covered in bees, and didn’t realize it,” Rachel added.
Miss Hampton gave a long-suffering sigh. “That’s not what I meant. We can never truly know the heart of another person and why they do the things they do. I’m not saying that what he did was right—in fact, far from it. I’m hardly amused. But I’m not going to place any kind of judgment on the situation until we have more facts.”
“I believe Miss Hampton’s correct,” Agatha said. “Olivia, could you find room in your heart to forgive him?”
“No, I could not,” Olivia replied. “I understand and appreciate the importance of forgiveness—it’s a very fine thing to be able to do. But this was humiliation piled upon humiliation. The only good thing to come of it was a kind offer of a buggy ride from Mr. Leo Perry, and he’ll be coming back tomorrow night to take me for another. As for Pastor Osbourne, I want nothing more to do with him ever again, for as long as I live.”
Almost as if in response to her statement, Adam’s voice sounded from the base of the stairs leading to the attic. “Olivia? May I speak with you?”
She went downstairs and met him in the hallway. No man, not even the owner of the hotel, was allowed upstairs in the girls’ room. Miss Hampton—and her pistol—had made that very clear since the first day. “Yes?”
“Pastor Osbourne’s in the lobby, and he’d very much like to see you.”
Heat rose in Olivia’s cheeks. “Oh, he is, is he? He does, does he?” That certainly took a lot of gall. “Well, you may tell him that I have something much more important to attend to right now, and I will not be coming down.”
Adam raised an eyebrow. “What’s going on, Olivia? Did something happen?”
“Pastor Osbourne threw me in a pond at the church picnic this afternoon, and I will have nothing more to do with him. Please tell him to go on his merry way.”
Adam looked like he was trying to hold back laughter. That simply would not do. She lifted her chin. “If you find this so amusing, I suggest you try it yourself sometime. A pond may look beautiful from a distance, but when you’re in it, it’s disgusting. And I’m sure I gave the fish quite a fright. Please deliver my message and send him back home.”
“All right,” Adam said, that annoying little smile still playing on his lips.
Olivia climbed the stairs back to her room, only slightly tempted to creep downstairs and make sure Adam handled it properly. She was sure he wouldn’t. He liked the pastor, and if he thought the situation was funny, he certainly wouldn’t be harsh with the man. She shook her head as she crossed the floor and sat down. “The pastor’s here to see me. I asked Mr. Brody to send him away.”
“You didn’t,” Harriet gasped. “What if he was coming to apologize?”
“Well, he couldn’t be here to throw her in a pond again—we don’t have one.” Miss Hampton’s tone was wry.
“If you’re not ready to forgive him, maybe it’s best that you don’t see him just yet.” Agatha reached out and patted Olivia’s shoulder. “You’ll know when the time is right.”
Olivia doubted that time would ever come at all. She was so upset, she’d quite enjoy seeing him get caught in a buffalo stampede.
Miss Hampton, Elizabeth, Harriet, and Agatha excused themselves to go to their own rooms for the night, and Abigail and Rachel settled in with books. Olivia wanted to write a letter to a friend back in New York, but her anger kept rolling over her in waves, and she finally put her stationery away. She’d have to try again when her mind was calmer.
After the lights were put out, she lay there, staring into the darkness. She wanted revenge. She wanted it so badly, it was like a living thing inside her. She’d already decided not to conduct the choir the next morning, and that would certainly put him in his place. She smiled, picturing his aghast look as he scrambled to figure out what to do up there in front of his entire congregation.
But wait …
Mrs. King would find it very satisfying and consider it proof that Olivia was nothing but trouble, and Mrs. Clasby would feel entirely justified for everything she’d said at the picnic. She’d probably step in at the last minute and do a fantastic job, thereby eliminating the pastor’s embarrassment, and if the pastor wasn’t embarrassed, what good was any of it? If Olivia didn’t conduct the choir, she would be making matters worse—for herself and no one else. She could not let those women have the last laugh. But what could she do?
She rolled over onto her side, adjusted her pillow, and kept thinking. Those women were highly opinionated, and nothing could convince them to change their minds. True, she could try to ignore their snide comments, and if she didn’t go to church, she might not even run into them again, but knowing how they felt and not being able to stand up for herself in the face of it? It was impossible even to consider. She had to do something.
And that “something” was to be the bigger person.
She sighed as the realization struck her. She had to go to church the next day and lead that choir. She had to act with dignity and grace and courage. She had to pretend that absolutely nothing at all had happened. If those women felt justified for even one of their comments, she would have lost, and losing was something she absolutely was not going to do.
Her mind made up, she drifted off to sleep, choosing to turn her thoughts to Mr. Perry and his very nice eyes. That was certainly a much nicer thing to think about than the odious Pastor Osbourne.
Chapter Ten
After everyone had finished eating and the women packed up the leftovers, Robert had walked around the grassy picnic area, chatting with this family and that, making sure they’d all had a good time and encouraging them to come to church the next day. He loved this part of his profession—this was where he felt he did the most good. When he spoke with the people one-on-one, shook their hands, and listened to their concerns, he could be there for them in a very real way. In the back of his mind, however, had been the unrelenting urgency to get over to the hotel and talk with Miss Markham before the hour grew any later. Who knew how much worse things could get if allowed to fester?
He had gone directly to the hotel from the picnic grounds, hoping it wasn’t too late to make amends, but Mr. Brody himself informed him that Miss Markham refused to be seen. Robert wasn’t surprised at all. He had treated her abominably, and he could well understand her feelings.
As he dressed for church Sunday morning, he couldn’t stop thinking about the night before and his ugly behavior. He had scarcely slept, wishing he’d been able to ask for forgiveness and kicking himself over and over again. This morning, he must face his congregation, realizing that some of them might have heard the story by now. The wheels of gossip certainly turned fast.
He paused in the middle of buttoning his shirt. That was it. He might not have been able to apologize to Miss Markham, but he would do the next best thing, and that would be to speak out against the root of these problems. This would probably be a very unpopular sermon, but it was one he must deliver, and he was as sure of that as he’d ever been about a sermon in his life.
He arrived at the church a little early and set about making sure everything was in place. The hymnbooks were arranged neatly on the benches, there were no scraps of paper littering the floor—everything was tidy and peaceful, just as it should be. The ladies who volunteered to keep the chapel clean were doing a very nice job. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come, and when the doors opened and the parishioners began to stream in, he was ab
le to greet them as usual.
When Miss Markham entered, he tried to reach her, but there were so many people, he was pinned where he stood. He watched as she walked up the aisle and took a seat next to the organ, looking very pretty in a pink dress. It might have been the same dress she wore the previous Sunday—he was terrible at remembering things like that, but he was going to make an effort because he’d promised Mrs. Clasby that he would be mindful of anything inappropriate in Miss Markham’s appearance or behavior. He shook his head—he certainly was in no position to judge someone else’s inappropriate behavior when he couldn’t even control his own.
Robert took his seat and tried to catch Miss Markham’s eye, hoping he could smile at her and lighten at least some of the burden until he could speak to her properly. But she would not look his way, and then it was time for the services to begin.
When Miss Markham rose to direct the choir, she did so competently, and he noticed the little touches and flairs that had been missing the last time the choir had performed this piece. She’d added in some harmony and encouraged the altos to take it up a notch in volume. While the skill of the performers hadn’t improved, the arrangement was pleasing, and the overall effect was very satisfying. Robert looked out over the congregation to see their faces reflect what he felt—peace and edification. That was exactly what he’d hoped for.
Now if they would just stay peaceful during the sermon . . .
He cleared his throat before stepping up to the pulpit. He had no prepared notes, as he had only decided a short time beforehand that he’d be addressing this topic. He would be relying on his memory and on grace. His memory often failed him. Grace never had.
“Brothers and sisters in the gospel, it’s a pleasure to have you here this morning. As always, it does my heart good to look out and see your faces, and I pray that our time together will be joyful.” He cast another quick prayer heavenward. “I’ve taken today’s sermon from the first book of Timothy, chapter five and verse thirteen, which reads, ‘And withal they learn to be idle, wandering about from house to house; and not only idle, but tattlers also and busybodies, speaking things which they ought not.’” He paused and looked out over the congregation. So far, they were still looking up at him with faint smiles on their faces. Time to forge onward.
A Clean Slate (Kansas Crossroads Book 4) Page 7
