My Heart Belongs in Niagara Falls, New York

by Barratt, Amanda;

  Your voice might not speak to me audibly, but Your words are here, Lord. Show me Your heart. Fill me with them as breath fills my lungs. All I need is You.

  He’d trusted faithfully, laid his feelings for Adele before the Lord day after day. On his walks to work. During his noon break. On the return home. At night, when sleep evaded him as it so often did these days.

  And now this.

  Drew stared down at the headline. Now that he had a steady income, he could afford to purchase a paper every now and then. He’d done so today but realized, staring down it at, that no mere happenstance led him to this particular newspaper on this particular day.

  Leaning against the brick wall of an office building, late summer filling the air with its sticky breath, he clutched the paper in both fists and read the words again.

  American millionaire Mr. Franklin J. Conway to wed Miss Adele Linley. After announcing their engagement less than a month prior, the celebrated tycoon will wed his English sweetheart on Saturday, August 27, at Trinity Church.

  August 27th. Tomorrow.

  A gust of warm wind slapped him, nearly tearing the paper from his hands. But it was nothing compared to the headline’s brutal force.

  Around him, men crowded the street, heading home after a day at the factory or office. A few vendors hawked their wares, a trio of little boys racing after their wooden hoops. Typical sights during a late afternoon on a Buffalo street corner.

  Even the paper he held was typical, black letters atop fresh newsprint.

  But the meaning of those letters was enough to capsize all semblance of ordinary.

  Drawing in a breath ragged with everything churning inside him, Drew refolded the paper.

  You told me to wait, God! And now this? She’s marrying Conway? That tyrant of a human who takes pleasure in two things—destroying others and elevating himself.

  The last glimpse he’d had of Adele overwhelmed his mind. Her wayward hair curling around her cheeks, she’d turned at the door and slowly, sweetly, given him a smile.

  She’d told him she was going to market.

  Instead, she’d gone to Conway.

  Was there anything worse than one’s most dreaded suspicion becoming reality? Yet, reality it was.

  A black word sizzled from his lips. He ground his jaw lest another one escape. Cursing would do no good, and it was a mean resort.

  The paper fell from his hands and skittered across the street, captured by another gust of wind. Drew slaked a hand through his hair, the boil inside making him long to smash his foot into something. Preferably someone with the name of Franklin Conway who now held Adele in his monstrous grasp.

  Do I still wait, Lord? Is that what You want? Now that I know she’s here, in Buffalo, twenty-four hours away from giving up any chance of earthly happiness, at least during Conway’s lifetime? C’mon, God, please. I’ve tried to have faith. Now I need answers.

  He scrubbed a hand over his eyes. The letter from Conway. The anonymous envelope. She’d sent it. Giving him and Hope a brighter future while a cloud of darkness shrouded her own. She didn’t care one iota about Conway.

  If she had, she wouldn’t have kissed Drew with such passion. Yes. Passion. The kind that went beyond the physical and entered dangerous territory—the place where nothing was too great to surrender on account of love.

  “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.”

  He couldn’t let Adele make that kind of sacrifice. Oh, but she was trying, out of her own misplaced guilt and a futile desire to make amends. He knew her too well to doubt her motives.

  “She’s found Me now, son. But she still needs you.”

  A sudden release swamped him, a lessening of the bounds that had held him.

  The time for waiting had passed. And the newspaper was just the Almighty’s way of giving him a kick in the backside.

  The time to find the woman he loved had come. Now that he had peace to search for her, he couldn’t deny the depth of his feelings. He loved her. Not a flimsy or flowery emotion, founded upon moonlight and orchestra music. But a relentless, abiding, soul-deep love.

  He couldn’t let her marry Conway.

  Not when the only man he could ever imagine holding her close at night was him—Drew Dawson. He didn’t deserve her. But he would fight for her.

  Ignoring the lingering ache in his leg, he started in the direction of Conway’s mansion. Twilight dusted the sky in shades of muted blue and peach. He drew in deep breaths of air as his pace increased, pushing himself to the limits of his only recently gained back strength.

  By nightfall, he’d see her face again. That face that held him captive with its radiance. But if she agreed to capture him with her beauty every day hereafter, he’d be her willing prisoner.

  What would Conway do when Drew announced he’d come for Adele? The man held fast to his possessions. But Adele wasn’t a possession. She was a person who deserved to marry someone she loved.

  But…what if that someone wasn’t him? The thought spliced through Drew as his strides ate up block after block. A very likely circumstance too. Just because she might not care for Conway didn’t mean her heart was instantaneously Drew’s.

  Yet…There had been that kiss. If she held no feelings toward him, would she, a lady, have melded her lips to his with such passionate abandon? Impossible.

  What if it were possible? Though he possessed a decent job, he wasn’t far above penniless. Knowing Conway, the man would insist the canceled debt be reinstated. Which left him even poorer. Though Adele had spent weeks living on Canal Street, she’d grown up a lady of the manor. One who could very well decide England, not Drew, to be her best choice.

  He had to try though. The newspaper had fallen into his hands for a reason. It had happened for a purpose. One Drew would accept, even if it wasn’t to his benefit.

  Acceptance was a poor replacement for the embrace of the woman he’d give everything for without a moment’s hesitation.

  But I would accept it, Lord. And trust You to give me the strength.

  He approached the street where Conway lived. The windows of the man’s massive residence—the largest on the block—seemed to glower at him with as much venom as the millionaire himself would, when he learned of Drew’s reason for coming.

  Conway could glower all he liked. The man might possess a house fine enough to put a king’s palace to shame, but there were other, greater, kinds of treasure that could never be procured with earthly coin.

  He smoothed a hand down the front of his serviceable business suit and slicked his fingers through his wind-riffled hair. Two men. One with millions, one who possessed less than Conway carried around in his pocket as spending money. Both sought the same woman.

  Adele was too good for either of them.

  But oh, how he’d cherish it, if she ever found him worthy enough to bestow the gift of her heart.

  He climbed the steps and rapped on the polished knocker. Stepped back to wait, running a hand through his hair again, wishing he had a mirror to check his appearance. Working around furniture could prove dusty work…had he got any on himself?

  He stared up at the curtained windows on the second floor. Was Adele in one of those rooms now? Or were they in the dining room, feasting on a seven-course meal laid out by Conway’s retinue?

  He’d soon find out.

  A black-coated man opened the door. A different butler than the one Drew was accustomed to seeing. Had Conway sacked the elderly fellow with the twitching mustache? His replacement certainly wasn’t elderly, nor did anything about him twitch. With a granite expression and the build of one who had spent considerable years in the ring, he didn’t look the sort to find himself at home polishing silver or arranging the wine cellar.

  “Yes?” The man surveyed Drew with a barely hidden sneer.

  “I’m here to see Miss Adele Linley. Or Mr. Conway.” Drew didn’t much care whether the man’s sneer froze onto his face. The guy could curl his upper
lip all he wanted, as long as he opened the door.

  “May I ask your name?” An inscrutable expression erased the sneer. The man opened the door but not to let Drew in. He took a step onto the stoop and closed the door behind him, folding his arms across his burly chest.

  “Dawson. Drew Dawson.” Drew didn’t budge, though the man had the air of a challenging Goliath. Probably Conway had enemies and this man doubled as security.

  A slow smile edged the butler’s mouth. “Drew Dawson, eh? The master wondered if you’d be paying us a visit. Guess he was right.” The man chuckled, an eerie sound of delight.

  And rammed his fist into Drew’s jaw.

  The peace of God truly did surpass all understanding. For there was no earthly reason why Adele should possess even a measure of it at this moment.

  But she nonetheless clung to it, to her Savior who had become her Strong Tower, as she prepared to walk down the aisle toward a future with Franklin Conway. She’d attempted to call off the wedding, but Mr. Conway was having none of it. She could have protested further, screamed, called the authorities, but he made one mention of Drew’s debt and she’d closed her mouth. She’d taken control of her circumstances far too often and for far too long. God had filled her with peace that all would be well and His will be done. A will she would trust in, believing in His love no matter what happened.

  Still, as the carriage wheels turned in the direction of the church, the sting of tears pricked her eyes. Glimpsing herself in the mirror, decked out as a bride, had made her heart long for a man. And not the one whose wife she would become.

  Though it would no doubt bring more tears, foolishness, considering several hundred eyes would be upon her in less than half an hour, she let her mind travel down roads that would hereafter be denied her. Gossamer daydreams that the man at the other end of the aisle were honorable and kind, with wavy dark hair and mesmerizing brown eyes. Poor perhaps, in the world’s eyes, but rich in love and care for her. No earthly capital could begin to compare to that which the heart offered.

  But his had offered her nothing. Drew had probably forgotten about her, engaged as he was in carving out a new life for himself and Hope. Had he even once thought of their kiss?

  It was a moment branded upon her memory, rendering her powerless to forget.

  “I’m not such a fool as to believe one heart can speak to another.” The words emerged on a shaky whisper, fragile in the carriage occupied by no one but her. “But if they could, mine would have much to say to yours. I love you, Drew Dawson. It’s an incredible feeling to know love’s power. I don’t expect to know it again. But for the moment, dearest one, help me to pretend that it’s your arms that will hold me tonight. With tenderness and passion and such…such love. If I think of that, I can do this. I will do this.”

  The wheels rolled to a stop. Her heart thudded in her ears.

  Through the window, she glimpsed Uncle Osbourne waiting for her on the church steps. He hurried down to meet her as a footman opened the carriage door and assisted her out. Her feet found purchase on the pavement, and she looked up at her uncle, the wind swirling the edges of her cream lace skirt and veil. From the open church doors, the scent of roses filtered out. Roses. Her favorite flower, perfume whisper soft, petals silken. What a different fragrance they emitted now, coming from the doors of a building she loathed to enter.

  “You look beautiful, my dear.” Her uncle smiled.

  “Thank you.” Her words emerged like a shiver. “You look handsome yourself.” She reached and adjusted his tie. On this day, the day when a girl relied upon her father’s arm, hers was six feet beneath the ground of a Linley Park burial plot. Another broken piece in this day of shattered dreams.

  Lord, Thy will be done. On earth as it is in heaven, Thy will be done.

  “Ready?” Her uncle held out his arm, and she placed her hand atop it. Though Millie and Dorothea would have happily served as bridesmaids, she’d opted to keep things simple, especially as Mr. Conway had no one to serve as groomsmen.

  She nodded, and they climbed the steps of the fashionable church. An usher opened the door into the light-flooded, red-carpeted sanctuary. The first notes of the “Wedding March” burst forth in all their triumph. And yes, she could walk down this aisle with triumph. Trusting that, come what may, God’s power remained in control of her life. No longer did she lean upon her feeble human strength. She was Christ’s. His alone, whether she walked out of this church as Mrs. Franklin Conway or as Adele Linley.

  She kept her gaze fixed on the clergyman, though of course, Mr. Conway stood up front. Her breath emerged jagged and the hand upon her uncle’s arm shook. Just a little.

  When her uncle surrendered her to take her place beside her groom, she continued to rivet her gaze forward. Mr. Conway’s hand reached to cover hers with a pressure that spoke more of ownership than groomlike fervency.

  But he would not own her.

  The clergyman began as clergymen had done at thousands of weddings for thousands of couples. A sacred ceremony with sacred vows.

  “Why won’t you look at me?” Mr. Conway’s words emerged as if spoken through gritted teeth.

  She chanced a look upward. His eyes bore down upon her, balls of glittering anger.

  There was nothing sacred about this ceremony. No more than if this had been an auction, she on the block for the highest bidder.

  Lord, please, rescue me…I should have stopped this, once and for all, last night when I still had the chance.

  “I will never leave you, nor forsake you.”

  More than a verse, it was a promise. She lifted her gaze toward the cathedral ceiling. There was still time. If she took action, there would be a scandal; she’d be shamed.

  Lord, show me what to do.

  “I require and charge you both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgment when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you know any impediment, why ye may not be lawfully joined together in matrimony, ye do now confess it. For be ye well assured, that so many as are coupled together otherwise than God’s Word doth allow are not joined together by God; neither is their matrimony lawful.”

  Adele opened her mouth, poised to speak out. The reverend should have paused there. Adele had attended half a dozen weddings; it was customary. But the man barreled forward, droning on. Trapping her like a sparrow in its cage, leaving no opening for escape.

  Why had there been no pause? Why? Mr. Conway’s pressure on her lace-clad arm increased. No doubt there would soon be a bruise beneath the expensive material. Had he made certain of her entrapment? Had he instructed the minister thusly?

  Was his desire to possess her so great that he would stoop to sacrilege?

  No, Lord. Please, no.

  She had to say something.

  “If any man here do allege and declare any impediment, why they may not be coupled together in matrimony, by God’s law, then let them now confess it.”

  Now.

  Her lips parted.

  “I have an objection.”

  Adele spun around. A ripple wove through the crowd as necks craned and whispers murmured.

  Those words…she hadn’t been the one to voice them.

  A man strode steadily up the aisle, one step at a time.

  Drew…

  A bruise darkened his eye. Dirt stained his ripped suit.

  To her eyes, a more beautiful sight could not be found.

  “Dawson.” Mr. Conway’s tone dripped with derision. “I thought I told my butler to finish you.”

  “Oh, he tried. But I couldn’t let that happen.” Another step toward her. Drew’s gaze fused to hers, twin flames shooting straight through her. A smile edged his lips. “I had a wedding to make.”

  “You have an objection to the marriage?” The reverend looked at the three of them, a dazed expression on his pinched face.

  “You bet I do.” Drew stopped a few paces away. He leaned one hand on the edge of the nearest pew, as if to steady himself. “
Adele Linley is not marrying Franklin Conway for love. She’s marrying him to fulfill a debt. My debt. And I won’t stand for it.” He took a step closer, jaw firm, those beautiful eyes delving into hers. “Because Adele Linley deserves a man who will cherish her. Honor her. I don’t know how well each of you sitting in these pews know Franklin Conway, folks, but I know him. Worked for him. And there’s nothing”—he jutted a finger—“not one thing honorable about him.”

  A gasp went up from the assemblage. A squeak, then a thud, as one of the ladies fainted. Adele spared the scene less than a second of her attention—Drew captured it all.

  “Get out.” Conway spat the words. “You’ve no business being here. Usher! Throw this man out at once. How dare he interfere with my marriage!”

  “Wait.” The reverend held up a hand. “This is a matter that deserves careful attention.” He turned his solemn gaze first on Drew, then Adele, finally Mr. Conway decked out in bridegroom attire and boutonniere. Then to Adele, he said, “Young lady, do you wish to wed your groom today? Are you convinced of his worthiness to become your husband?”

  Mr. Conway’s grip dug into the flesh of her arm. “Adele.” He lowered his voice. “Take care how you answer. You recall our bargain, remember?”

  Adele drew in a long breath. She nodded toward Mr. Conway with enough of a smile to make him lessen his hold long enough for her to reclaim her arm. Looked again to Drew. The pleading in his gaze brought moisture to her eyes. His battered, bruised, honorable face, searching hers. Waiting.

  Truth whispered through her heart. A truth that brought a smile, genuine and full, to her lips as she turned to Mr. Conway.

  “I do remember something. Hmm. Let me think.” Aware that every gaze in the building stared at her as if she were an actress giving a final performance, she let her feet follow her heart.

  Reaching Drew’s side, she met his eyes, giggling softly. The man seemed to be holding his breath! For a sweet moment, she let herself drink him in, parched with need and longing. Then turned back toward Conway. He glared at her with the look of one whose fingers itched to wrap around her neck.