An older gentleman near the medical wagon came and took her by the shoulder. “I’m Dr. Costa.” He turned to Calvin. “Is this your wife?”
For some reason, his mouth resisted answering with the truth. “No, she’s not. This is Marianne Lister.”
“Oh.” The man’s white eyebrows rose quickly and then fell back down as he took in her clothing. “I didn’t expect to find a Lister in this chaos. Come. Let’s get you to the hospital. I’ll have someone call your family physician immediately.”
The doctor took Marianne from his arms. . . . They’d never felt so empty.
He’d always known she was a jewel among women. Now it was time he started treating her as such.
Chapter
9
On the walk down to Calvin’s basement apartment, Marianne pulled her shawl tighter and loosed a small cough. Dr. Tallgrass had told her she’d recover, but he’d informed her in no uncertain terms that she was not to return to the factory. Not because he was concerned about her health, but rather because he’d been alarmed she’d stooped to such work in the first place.
She had little hope her family’s physician would not contact her parents, but she still planned to move into the boardinghouse with Mrs. Smith. She could help the older woman save on rent and have more time to convince Calvin of her love. She was getting close to allaying his fears, wasn’t she? But if she couldn’t, at least she could mourn the loss of a future with him at the boardinghouse without her parents chastising her for it.
But to do so, she’d have to find another job, since she’d been fired this morning.
Probably Dr. Tallgrass’s doing, expecting a reward from her parents for looking out for her well-being.
After she’d left the cotton mill, she’d tried to get a job at the linseed mill and the ice plant, but any place run by the Liscombes would not hire her. So she’d headed to the area surrounding Mrs. Smith’s boardinghouse to look for work, but there were no open positions.
Dusk had arrived before she’d gotten any leads, and she’d tried not to think about how Calvin had said poverty was always lurking around the corner when one needed work to survive.
Not that she needed to work, and doing so would make her peers consider her a fool. But the Bible story of the pearl and the farmer had whirled around in her head as she’d searched for employment. Though it was a parable about finding salvation, not love, that farmer had inspired her to keep going. He’d sold everything dear to him, knowing it was possible that by the time he returned, the owner could’ve already sold the land and he’d have lost the pearl.
But the risk had been worth it.
While turning the corner behind the Yandells’ house, she fingered the last piece of cotton she’d taken off the mill floor after saying good-bye to the Moore sisters and handing them her lunch. She walked toward Calvin’s trellis in order to tie on the last thread.
But the closer she got, the slower she walked. The trellis stood empty of everything but the dying vine.
Had he taken down all the strings she’d tied to prove her love? After the fire, she’d thought she truly had a chance with him, that if she could hold steady, he’d realize love was a blessing worth shucking fears to attain, but instead, he’d torn down every last memento of how much she cared, the evidence that she willingly lived humbly for a chance at his heart.
She fingered her last cotton thread. Perhaps it no longer mattered that there would be no more cotton string to tie to his trellis. Perhaps there was no reason to upset her parents by moving out. Perhaps her pearl was lost forever.
Her throat clogged at the thought that Calvin had counted the risk and ultimately found her unworthy.
But even so, she still loved him.
She let out a deep sigh and moved forward to tie on the last string she’d bother to put up, blinking back tears she would not shed.
Calvin’s apartment door banged open and he burst through, shrugging on his coat as the door slammed behind him. “I was beginning to think you’d finally given up.”
Was he coming out to tell her once again that she should? One of the tears she’d chosen not to loose rolled onto her cheek, betraying her.
He stopped in front of her, his gaze roaming her face. “I just got back from your house. They assured me you were all right, but that didn’t stop me from shaking my head at you when your maid informed me you went to the mill this morning.”
She didn’t trust her voice to small talk. Who cared about her health or where she worked, anyway? She glanced over at the trellis, bare of anything but the dying vine. “I see that the trellis has been . . . cleaned up.” She swallowed hard against a cough she was afraid might turn into a sob if she weren’t careful. “Are you trying to tell me something?”
“Yes.” He pulled something white from his pocket, took her hand, and placed it in her palm. “I made this for you.”
She frowned at the small crocheted item. A terrible bit of needlework, the end threads loose and the item lopsided, though it looked like a . . . heart, sort of. She blinked against the confusion and looked up at him. “What is this?”
“I took all your strings, tied them together, and crocheted a heart.”
She couldn’t help the look of disbelief. “You crochet?”
“No, rather, Mrs. Yandell told me what to do with her hook and I did it, since I wanted to be the one who actually made it.”
“You made me a heart?”
“Yeah.” He tore his gaze off the cockeyed item in her hand and looked into her eyes, his own mesmerizingly vulnerable and soft. “I’m not that farmer in the parable you told me about yesterday. I don’t have anything worth selling, and I don’t know how long it will take me to save enough for a decent house in a good neighborhood, but I hoped you’d be all right with me saving what I’d spend on an engagement ring and accept this heart instead.”
“In place of an engagement ring?” she breathed, her own heartstrings feeling like they were being yanked in several directions at once.
“Yes.” He curled his hand around hers. “If you’d offered your love to another man and he’d shoved it away, I’d have considered him a fool. I don’t want to be a fool anymore. I love you. I’ve loved you for years. I just couldn’t hope for your love in return, because you deserve so much better than what I can give you.”
She blinked, attempting not to cry at the words she’d longed to hear.
He caressed her cheek. “It might be a while before we can marry, though. I realized yesterday that I can trust you to stay through good times and bad, but I’d like to start out as well as we can. Once Mr. Kingsman learns I’m the reason you won’t be marrying David he’ll fire me, unless David can save my job. But even then, I’m not sure I should stay since I’d cause him problems, so I’ll need to search for another job, and then we’ll have to save up for a house—”
She pressed a finger to his lips, her heart too full to hear any more of the obstacles he’d set up before them. “I’d marry you today, but if you need to feel more secure, I’ll wait, as long as you know that”—she leaned forward, only a breath away from his lips—“I intend to do whatever I can to hurry you up.” She tiptoed to close the distance between them. “I don’t need that much,” she whispered.
The second her lips touched his, he dug his hands into her hair and kissed her with such passion, she couldn’t help but drop the heart in her hand. Though he may have told her to find someone more worthy to love only days ago, the longing in his touch and the hitch in his breathing proved the chemistry she’d felt for the past two years had been real.
When he pulled away from her lips to place a line of kisses along the soft spot behind her ear, she leaned against him. “I do believe, Mr. Hochstetler, that you’ve just made my dreams come true.”
He pulled back and laughed. “If I’m your dream come true, you should’ve dreamed bigger.”
“Don’t you be laughing at my dreams.” She pulled back a little and thumped his upper arm. She couldn’t help
the smile that stole over her face at him teasing her again, like he’d done before she’d almost messed everything up. “And since you’ve suggested I dream bigger, I shall.” She tiptoed up and put her nose against his. “I’ll pray God helps us get to the next part of my dream faster than you believe possible. Because I want to be your wife by Christmas.”
“I’d forgo all Christmas presents for the rest of my life if that’s what I get this year.” He pulled her into an embrace. “I’m sorry I treated your love for me as less than the treasure it is. I assure you it wasn’t because I didn’t want it, but my whole life has been a study on why I wasn’t worth sticking around for. But you did stick around, even when I wouldn’t have blamed you for giving up. I’m sorry you had to go to such lengths to prove it, but I knew—still know, actually—that I’m not worthy of the extraordinary woman you are, but if you’re willing to love me anyway, I’m going to thank God and enjoy the gift.”
“I’m nothing special,” she said, her words muffled by the thick layers of his coat.
He scoffed, but that didn’t stop him from kissing her forehead. “There’s not a single man in Kansas City who believes my future bride is no one special.”
Future bride. How often had her mother talked to her about her wedding, dreaming up lavish plans for tying the Kingsman and Lister fortunes together? And yet, none of those conversations had made her feel as happy as Calvin’s declaration that he planned to make her his.
She wrapped her arms around him. “If you take away my wealth and my name, I’m nothing but an ordinary woman in love with an ordinary man, in pursuit of an extraordinary love.”
“No longer a pursuit, Marianne.” He took her left hand and laid it upon his chest, where his heart thumped hard enough for her to feel it. “You long ago won my heart, and now you’ve convinced me I can truly have yours. So if God wills, every bit of the rest of me will follow in time.”
Epilogue
CHRISTMAS EVE
You should’ve let me get you a new dress instead of wearing this old thing.” Mother swiped at the flounces as if dust still clung to the twenty-seven-year-old gown.
“It’s fine, Mother.” Marianne turned, trying to catch a glimpse of the back of the burgundy dress in the full-length mirror. “It’s very sentimental, and what better dress to be married in than one that started a marriage I hope will be as fulfilling as my own?”
“I’ve been telling all the ladies you wanted it for your ‘something old,’” Mother grumbled as she stood back and looked at her again. “It wasn’t more than my Sunday best back then, certainly not what you should be wearing.”
Thankfully she stopped short of telling her Calvin wasn’t who she was supposed to be marrying, either.
But thanks to David, upon his return from Teaville, he’d not only saved Calvin’s job but had promoted him to chief executive at Kingsman & Son—taking away much of Calvin’s fear and lessening her parents’ worry about becoming the laughingstock of their set.
Plus, David had recently married a woman from Teaville, taking the teeth out of their parents’ favored argument about them belonging together.
David’s new bride, a tall, dark-headed woman, entered the little room at the back of the church just as the “Wedding March” started. “Here you are.” Evelyn rushed over with her hand extended, a penny in her palm. “You can’t imagine how many people have no pennies in their pockets.”
Marianne smiled and slipped the coin into her shoe. She then grabbed the bouquet of silk roses her mother had made her. A new blue ribbon anchored a borrowed handkerchief around the flowers’ stems.
Papa poked his head into the room, and his smile stopped halfway. He swallowed and sniffed, seemingly stuck just inside the doorway of the room, causing Mother and Evelyn to have to squeeze their way out around him.
Marianne grabbed the gift she’d fashioned for Calvin and gave her father a reassuring smile. “Oh, Papa, it’s not as if I’m leaving and never coming back.”
“No, it’s just . . . my little girl has disappeared, and in front of me stands a woman as beautiful as her mother.”
She tiptoed up to kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”
He shook his head a bit as he helped pull the veil in front of her face. He knew she wasn’t just thanking him for the compliment, but for how they’d paid and arranged for this wedding without much fuss. “I’m just sorry we gave you so much grief early on. He is as fine a man as you’ve always said.”
The way her throat constricted made it impossible to talk, but thankfully she didn’t need to. Papa swept her out into the corridor, and she looked down the holly-decorated aisle to the man who stood front and center.
Calvin was pale and fidgety, but when the crowd hushed, he looked up and locked his eyes on her.
If she’d had any doubts, they all disappeared at the completely enamored look in his eyes. She couldn’t help the smile of peace and happiness that welled up from within, knowing this man was going to be loving her for the rest of his days. She’d been right not to postpone the wedding for a “more appropriate” gown, for being his bride had nothing to do with what she wore, but everything to do with how they’d live. And she couldn’t wait another moment to be his.
At the altar, she caught a quick wink from David, who stood behind Calvin as best man, and listened to her pastor ask Papa to give her away.
Once Papa lifted her veil, she could see the tears shimmering in Calvin’s eyes.
She slipped her hand into his, and he frowned down to where she’d pressed his gift into his palm.
He pulled his hand away slightly to see the little engagement heart he’d crocheted for her, now with a pearl bead sewn onto its middle.
“You’re worth everything I have,” she whispered.
He squeezed the handmade heart between their hands. “And you’re worth more than I could ever acquire.”
But it would be their love that would make them rich.
Keep reading for a special sample of A Love So True by Melissa Jagears.
Excerpt from A Love So True
Chapter
1
Southeast Kansas
September 1908
If David Kingsman had any chance of making his father proud, this next decision could be it. Of course, Father was just as likely to disown him for it, but if David’s projections were correct, it would be worth it. Hopefully.
Closing the last ledger, David looked across the room at the factory manager of A. K. Glass. Mr. Burns stood by the window, stroking his gray beard while staring out over the industrial part of town, as he’d done the whole time David had pored over the factory’s books.
The fact that the manager had done nothing for several hours was as telling as the numbers in these ledgers.
Mr. Burns should be glad Father wasn’t the one here right now. Though he wouldn’t like him either once he heard his decision.
“Mr. Burns.” David released a breath and pushed himself out of the chair. “After today’s examination, I’m afraid I need to let you go.”
The man blinked but didn’t move.
“I understand you’ll need time to gather your things.” He gestured toward the man’s desk before striding to the door and entering the front office, where several men handled the glass factory’s paperwork. The stacks of papers on their desks were but a draft away from fluttering to the floor already littered with boxes, crinkled papers, and glass jars. He tapped his hand on the empty desk closest to Mr. Burns’s door. “Does anyone know where Mr. Carlisle is?”
The three other employees in the office looked up and shook their heads.
“Men,” Mr. Burns’s voice boomed from behind him, “I’d suggest you find a job elsewhere before it’s too late. After only one day’s assessment, the owner’s son here thinks we aren’t doing our best. If he’ll fire me, he’ll fire you.”
David held up his hand. “That’s not true. Workers who earn their pay will not be fired.” He turned to glare at Mr. Burns. “I suggest yo
u leave peaceably.”
Mr. Carlisle’s tall, thin frame sneaked in through the outer doorway, his thin mustache twitching. “I heard Liberty Glass is hiring.”
“Better to work under someone who cares about the people in this town rather than some outsider.” Mr. Burns shuffled through the crowded office, holding his box high above his paunch. “Come, George. I’ll put in a good word for you.” He gestured with his head for Carlisle to follow, then stomped out the door.
The three men behind their desks glanced between Mr. Carlisle and the outsider who’d dared to fire their boss.
David took his time to look all four men in the eyes. “I can’t promise anything, but my intention is not to fire anyone who’s competent. If you’ve been hardworking and—”
“Well, my uncle did the best he could with this place, and if that wasn’t enough . . .” Mr. Carlisle shuffled through the mess toward his desk. “I’ll pack my things.”
His uncle? No, no, no. He needed Mr. Carlisle! “Now wait. I know how difficult it can be to work with family, the pressure to remain loyal no matter what. But I’m willing to raise your salary since I need to make this place ready . . . er, I mean . . . start to . . .” Argh. What could he say that wouldn’t offend but would convince him to stay? Especially since he wasn’t sure how long Mr. Carlisle could keep the position. “I’d appreciate your help in turning this place into what my father and I have envisioned.”
The man dumped the contents of a filing box onto the floor and snatched the lone photograph off his desk. Before packing it, he stopped to give David a smug look. “Good luck doing that without me.” He opened a drawer and retrieved a sweater and a tin box.
“Is Liberty really hiring?” The youngest of the three remaining men ruffled his red hair.
David clamped his jaw to keep from begging the man to stay. His father would have immediately handed the kid a box for uttering such a disloyal question.
But why would these men feel loyal to Kingsman & Son? Father had only visited once after he’d received the deed from the former proprietor, who’d signed it over to clear a debt. He’d then left the place to run on its own, expecting the same diligence from his Teaville manager as those who ran his holdings in Kansas City.
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