Where the Heart Is Romance Collection

by Andrea Boeshaar

  Dear Leah,

  It is my fervent hope this letter finds you well and adjusting to life with my family. I wish to convey my regret for having to leave so quickly after our wedding and for not having time to help you settle in. I trust my aunt has made you feel welcome. When I return, I hope we may become better acquainted. Until that time I invite you to write me and to tell me more about yourself.

  It was hardly a love letter. It was hardly anything at all. Leah refolded the paper and slid it into the pocket of her apron.

  Stephen stomped out of the house, his head hanging, and his eyes shining with tears.

  “Why Stephen, what is it?”

  The boy collapsed beside her and laid his head against her side. “My letter,” he said between sniffles. “Olivia won’t let me see my letter from Papa.”

  Leah wrapped her arm around the boy’s shoulders and felt a tremor of sadness pass through his small body. “Thee may have my letter, and we will write to thy father. Won’t he be surprised when he sees a letter from thee?”

  Stephen turned his sorrowful gaze toward her. “But Leah, I can’t write. And I can’t learn until I go to school next year.”

  “Says who? There’s no law that says children can only learn at school. I will teach thee to read and write.”

  Stephen wiped away a tear. “You?”

  “Me. Shall we have our first lesson now?”

  Stephen’s sadness vanished as he smiled. “Wait till I tell Olivia I’m going to learn to read and write. She thinks she’s better than me ’cause she knows how and I don’t. But after you teach me, she’ll never be able to say that again.” The boy ran back into the house, yelling his sister’s name.

  Leah shook her head slowly. She’d meant to help Stephen, but somehow she’d given Olivia another reason to dislike her.

  Chapter 5

  Although it was an uneasy peace, the mere routine of daily life forged a type of harmony at the Whitaker farm. In September Olivia returned to school, Joseph prepared for the apple harvest, and Leah took on more and more household duties. As the oak trees changed from green to gold, she immersed herself in the everyday chores of all farm wives. In the mornings, she cooked and cleaned; afternoons she spent in lessons with Stephen and tending the kitchen garden, and evenings, sewing and writing letters. Despite Caleb’s invitation, Leah had declined to write, focusing instead on helping Stephen compose notes and drawings to send to his father.

  She was an in-between woman. She was married, but she was not a wife. She’d come to love Stephen, but she was not a mother. And as far as Olivia was concerned, she was little more than a live-in housekeeper.

  The girl rarely spoke to Leah. She ate the food Leah prepared, but during meals, she spoke only to her aunt and brother. Olivia handed her dirty laundry to Leah, accepted freshly starched and ironed clothes in return, but still frowned at Leah’s plain brown dress and severe black bonnet.

  Near the end of September, Leah entered the house from the kitchen garden, her basket full of freshly picked yellow squash, and heard Olivia speaking to Rose.

  “When Papa comes home, will he send Leah back to the Quakers?” the twelve-year-old asked.

  “Of course not,” Rose said, disapproval evident in her voice. “Leah is your father’s new wife, and the sooner you accept that, the sooner you’ll be happy.”

  “I’ll never be happy again,” Olivia protested. “Not until that ugly woman leaves this house. She’s much too tall, and she’s skinny as a blade of grass.”

  Although she understood the reasons behind Olivia’s unkind words, Leah’s heart ached to hear the old slights. Too tall. Too skinny. Not pretty enough.

  “That’s enough,” Rose said harshly. “Leah has done nothing to deserve such cruel words from you.”

  “We don’t need her,” Olivia continued. “I can do everything she does, and I’m ten times prettier. When Papa comes home I’ll show him.”

  The tone of Rose’s voice grew sterner. “I won’t listen to another word of this nonsense, Olivia Louise Whitaker. Even if you continue to refuse Leah as your stepmother, you will respect her as your father’s wife.”

  “I’ll never—”

  “Not another word, Olivia.”

  Olivia ran through the back door, tears flowing down her blotched face. She brushed past Leah as though she were invisible and ran toward the orchard. Rose appeared in the doorway, one hand covering her mouth.

  “Oh Leah,” Rose said. “I hope you didn’t…”

  “Olivia is hurt and confused,” Leah replied. “I know what it’s like to lose a parent, and if my mother had remarried, I probably would have felt the same way.”

  Rose clucked her tongue. “You’re too kind. If we give in to Olivia’s selfish ways, we’ll have a brat on our hands. Caleb babied the girl when her mother died, and look at her now. If Olivia is to grow into a respectable woman, I must put a stop to her bad behavior.”

  “Perhaps if we give her more time—” Leah’s words died in her throat.

  A peculiar, high-pitched sound traveled on the wind. “What in the world?” Rose asked.

  The noise grew louder, and a spark of fear flared in Leah’s chest. Olivia was screaming. Screaming and running toward the house.

  Leah dropped her basket, picked up her skirt, and ran toward the orchard. She recognized the noise that accompanied Olivia’s panicked shrieks. The humming wings of hundreds of bees, swarming around the girl.

  “Get a blanket!” Leah called over her shoulder.

  Rose disappeared into the house just as Olivia came into sight. Furious bees bore down on her as she tore through the brush, swatting the insects as they buried their barbs into her tender skin.

  “Stop running!” Leah called.

  Olivia screamed, stumbled, and fell face-first.

  Leah untied her apron and threw it over the girl’s head. “Calm down, Olivia. The bees will leave once they no longer feel threatened.”

  Rose hobbled toward the pair, a woolen blanket clutched to her chest. Leah took the blanket and spread it over the sobbing girl’s body. “Easy now. The bees are leaving. Take a deep breath. Let it out. Take another breath. Let it out. Nice and slow.”

  Olivia’s sobs slowly receded. The bees’ constant humming subsided as they abandoned their pursuit and returned to the orchard.

  Leah removed the cover and brushed away the few trapped bees that clung to the blanket. “Sit up, Olivia, and let me see if thee is stung.”

  “Of course I’m stung,” the girl shouted. “Those awful bees attacked me! You brought them here, and now they’ve attacked me!”

  Leah removed her prayer cap and used it to brush away the stingers. “Let’s go into the house, Olivia. I’ll make a poultice to draw out the pain.”

  Olivia pushed to her feet and ran to Rose’s side. “Aunt Rose, make her take those horrible bees away. They attacked me for no reason.”

  Rose lifted the girl’s hair and inspected her neck. “I don’t believe that, Olivia.”

  Olivia’s blotched face turned a deeper shade of red. “Didn’t you see how those awful bees attacked me?”

  “Perhaps we should talk about this after we care for your stings.”

  Olivia stamped her foot. “But surely you don’t believe I did something to those bees.”

  Rose’s gaze connected with Leah’s. With those words, Olivia had inadvertently admitted her guilt.

  But the girl hadn’t noticed the silent communication that passed between Rose and Leah. She flung her arm toward the orchard. “I was just walking down the path that leads through the orchard when all of a sudden, for no reason at all, those terrible bees attacked me.”

  Rose stepped away from the girl, as though trying to distance herself from the lies. “What did you do, Olivia?”

  Olivia’s hands fisted at her sides. “I didn’t do anything. It’s Leah who should be in trouble. She’s the one who brought bee hives to our farm.”

  Rose put a hand on her forehead and spoke in a voic
e ripe with exhaustion and frustration. “What did you do, Olivia?”

  “I told you what happened!” she yelled. “Why do you keep asking me?”

  Rose kept her voice calm. “Because I’m hoping you’ll find your way to the truth. Leah, perhaps you should go and check on your bees.”

  Leah stepped closer to the pair. “The bees will wait. I’d like to take care of Olivia’s stings first.”

  Rose put a hand on Olivia’s shoulder. “Did you hear that, Olivia? Leah knows you’ve done something to her bee hives, yet she wants to take care of you. That, young lady, is Christian love. Leah is putting you before herself. I can only hope that someday you will grow into such a fine woman.”

  Olivia froze like a threatened rabbit. Her bottom lip quivered, and her chest heaved with uneven breaths. She covered her face with her hands and turned her back to Leah and Rose.

  Leah held her breath in anticipation of Olivia’s next move. Would the girl bend, or would she hold on to her painful anger? If she could put aside her wounded pride, love would find its way into her young heart.

  Olivia’s slender shoulders shook with silent sobs. Leah walked quietly to the girl’s side. “Come inside, and let me tend to thy injuries.”

  Olivia leaned toward Leah, and Leah slid her arm around the girl’s shoulders. “I will mix a paste of bicarbonate and water. It draws out the pain of a bee sting and reduces the redness. Thee will be good as new in just a little while.”

  “I’m sorry,” Olivia said, sobbing. “I didn’t mean to… If you’ll show me how to repair them—”

  “Shh. Calm thyself, Olivia.” Leah guided the girl into the kitchen, settled her into a chair, and went to the cabinet. “I’ll see to the hives when I’m sure thee is all right.”

  Rose joined Leah at the counter. “I’ll leave the two of you alone for now. Call me if I’m needed.”

  Leah nodded to the older woman and mixed the paste while Olivia’s sobs abated.

  “I found a big stick and knocked the skeps over,” Olivia said. “I wanted to smash them and make the bees fly away.”

  Leah dampened a cloth and used it to clean the girl’s face. “I know thee is angry, Olivia. But taking out thy anger on bees wasn’t a smart thing to do.”

  Olivia smiled for the first time. “I know that now. But I thought if the bees left, you’d leave, too.”

  Leah dabbed the paste on the girl’s many stings. “I have nowhere to go, Olivia. My aunt would take me back, but my uncle wouldn’t. Plus I made a vow before God that I would be thy father’s wife until the day I died.”

  Olivia sniffed loudly. “Where are your parents?”

  “With the Lord.”

  Olivia sighed, as though exhaling all the anger and bitterness she’d been carrying inside since her father left. “I’m sorry, Leah.”

  “I know, Olivia. I know what it’s like to be left behind. I was angry, too.”

  “You were angry when your parents died?”

  “Oh yes.”

  “Are you angry at me?”

  “Do I seem angry?”

  “No. But I destroyed your bee hives.”

  “Bees are more resilient than thee thinks. When I finish here, I’ll go to the orchard and check on them.”

  “May I come with you?”

  Leah smiled at her stepdaughter. “Next time. Thee needs to rest, and the bees may need special attention. Now go upstairs and change thy clothes, and if thee finds any more stingers or swollen spots, let me know.”

  “I will.” Olivia threw her arms around Leah’s neck. “Thank you, Leah.”

  Leah’s heart warmed as she returned the girl’s embrace. She laid her cheek atop Olivia’s silky hair. “It will be all right. ‘All things work together for good to them that love God.’”

  Olivia sniffed one last time, smiled at Leah, and ran up the stairs.

  “‘All things work together for good to them that love God,’” Leah repeated. “But only thee, Lord, would use bee stings to open a way to Olivia’s heart.”

  Chapter 6

  Leah retied her apron and entered the barn. Without the swallows’ constant chattering, the barn was as quiet as the meetinghouse on First Day. The little travelers had left just after the apple harvest, a sure sign the first snowfall couldn’t be far away. It was past time to harvest the honey.

  Joseph carried the last box of jars into the barn and set it on the workbench next to Leah. “It’s hard to believe your bees made enough honey to fill all these jars.”

  Leah cut off a small piece of the wax honeycomb and gave it to Joseph. “The bees love their new home in the orchard. Just taste how sweet this year’s honey is.”

  Joseph put the honeycomb into his mouth and smiled. “Mmm-hmm. I bet you make a heap of money. What will you do with it all?”

  “I haven’t given that much thought. Save it, I suppose, and buy something nice for thy new bride.”

  A deep chuckle sounded in Joseph’s throat. “Delia wants to get married on Christmas Day, but that’s almost six weeks from now. I’m going to have to think of a way to hurry her up.”

  “You certainly won’t hear any of the Whitakers object. They can’t wait until Delia takes over the cooking. Apparently my cooking is acceptable but not actually desirable.”

  “You never heard me complain, did you?”

  “No but thee rarely asked for seconds.”

  The rap of Rose’s cane on the doorway caught their attention, but it was her pale face and trembling hands that alarmed Leah. “What is it, Rose?”

  “A letter from the War Department,” Rose answered in a shaky voice.

  An invisible fist of dread clutched Leah’s heart. Not Caleb. Please, Lord. Not Caleb.

  Rose dabbed at her nose with a handkerchief. “Caleb’s been wounded and is in a hospital in Washington. They’ve asked for a family member to come and care for him.”

  A breath forced itself into Leah’s lungs. Caleb was injured, perhaps sick, but alive.

  “You must leave right away,” Rose said. “I’ll go to the railroad office this afternoon and arrange your passage.”

  “Me?” Leah asked.

  “Of course. I’d never survive such a trip, especially now that the weather has turned colder.”

  “But, the children. Who will take care of them?”

  “We’ll manage until you return.”

  “But I can’t go alone. I’ll need a companion of some sort.”

  Rose held the fisted handkerchief to her forehead. “Perhaps one of your older cousins could accompany you, but if not, you’ll have to go alone. We can’t leave Caleb in the hands of strangers.”

  Leah’s heart winced. The image of her husband, wounded and lying in a hospital bed, seeped into her mind. “I’ll go straightaway to Uncle Abram’s farm. Perhaps Matthew or Mark will be able to accompany me.”

  Leah had spent many years caring for bees, but it wasn’t until she arrived in Washington that she had an idea what it felt like to be one of the insects. The throngs of people entering and exiting the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad Station reminded her of bees leaving the hive to forage and returning with their treasured pollen.

  Matthew squeezed Leah’s arm and spoke into her ear. “Wait here. I’ll hire a carriage and driver.”

  Leah nodded her consent and clutched her reticule closer to her body. Rose had given her hundreds of dollars, more money than Leah had ever seen, and although she’d hidden most of it in a secret pocket she’d sewn to her petticoat, she worried about losing even a dime of the Whitakers’ money.

  A small carriage pulled by a single horse stopped nearby, and Matthew jumped out. After handing her up to the seat, he gathered their bags and tossed them in beside her. “Shall we go to the hospital or find a hotel?”

  “It’s almost dark, and I doubt the hospital would allow us to visit so late in the day. Let’s find a hotel.”

  Matthew climbed up the wheel, spoke to the driver, and then joined Leah on the hard seat. “The driver says our best
bet is the Willard Hotel.”

  “Thank goodness thee is with me, Matthew. I don’t know how I’d manage alone.”

  “Oh thee would do just fine. Thee has always been resourceful. But I’m glad to have this opportunity to see the capital.”

  As the hired carriage lumbered along the rough road, Leah had to remind herself to keep her mouth closed. For a woman who’d never seen a building higher than two stories, the capital city was astonishing. Huge stone buildings stood beside crowded streets, and people hurried and shouted as though their business was more urgent than their neighbor’s. In the distance she could see the Capitol’s unfinished dome, the dying sunlight glinting off the building’s white walls. It would be magnificent once it was finished.

  But for all its grand buildings, Washington was a noisy, dirty place. Carriages and men on horseback vied for the right-of-way, and more than once she overheard rude words shouted by unruly men. The houses were small and packed closely together, like odd-sized books forced onto a small shelf.

  At last the cab pulled to a stop in front of a six-story white building. On the roof a pennant with the name WILLARD flew beside the US flag. “Is this the hotel?” Leah asked.

  “It must be,” Matthew answered. He climbed down from the carriage, paid the driver, and helped her alight.

  Leah held fast to her cousin’s arm as he wove through the crowded lobby. While Matthew spoke to the desk clerk, Leah stared in astonishment at the many uniformed men who chatted in small groups. So many uniforms, some with stars on their collars, others with clusters of leaves. There were only a few women, but all of them dressed in elegant clothing. Leah smoothed her plain gray skirt and examined her ungloved hands. Among the farmers of Newport, dressing plainly had never been difficult, but here she looked like a crow amid peacocks. Leah shook her head in silent chastisement. How quickly she’d let the world’s ways influence her.

  Matthew returned with two keys. “The rooms are on the top floor, but I said they’d be fine. Thee looks exhausted, Leah.”

  “I am tired,” Leah agreed, “but I don’t know what’s worn me out the most. The three-day train ride from Newport or the one hour I’ve been in Washington.”