by Delia Parr
This small pin, however, held such sentiment that she could scarcely imagine storing it in the trunk at the foot of her bed, where she kept the treasured mementos she had collected during her lifetime. Short of keeping the pin in a safe place while she did her housework, she intended to wear this pin often, if not always.
Blinking back tears, she looked up at him. “Thank you. The pin is lovely. Simply lovely,” she whispered.
“It was one of my mother’s favorites,” he said, confirming that it was a family heirloom.
That he would give her this piece of his mother’s jewelry meant almost as much to her as the fact he was giving her something to seal their betrothal, and she told him so as loving thoughts of her own mother wrapped around the joy that filled her heart. “I shall wear it always.”
“May I pin it to your collar for you?” he asked.
She nodded. When his fingertips brushed against her hand as he lifted up the pin, her heart began to race, inviting other thoughts about being married again.
“You’re only the second woman ever to wear this pin,” he explained as he deftly pinned his gift to her collar. “Jane preferred pieces that were more ostentatious, and I gave them away or sold them shortly after she died.”
Touched by his explanation, if not his ability to read her very thoughts, she fingered the golden rose and smiled. “Thank you.”
He pulled back his head to admire the pin and smiled. “You’re welcome. It suits you, just as I knew it would.”
“I’ll always treasure it,” she said, unable to keep herself from touching and retouching the golden petals with her fingertips.
“Would I be rushing too fast to ask if you’d consider setting a date for our marriage tonight?”
Emma blinked hard. “Tonight? We haven’t even discussed where we’re going to live. Or how our marriage will affect Mother Garrett. I should think we’d need to settle those before choosing a date to marry.” Zachary knew how much Hill House meant to her, and Emma assumed he’d agree that they would live here together as husband and wife, especially if that would mean they would be able to marry fairly quickly.
“I agree. I think it’s obvious we should plan to live—”
“Oh my,” she cut in. “If I’m not mistaken, those are footsteps I hear coming toward the door. Mark and Catherine must be coming to tell us how they were able to resolve things with Wryn. Would you mind if we stopped for a moment to talk with them, or would you prefer that I ask them to come back?”
He frowned, clearly as disappointed as she was. “Since what they have to say will influence some of our decisions, we should probably talk with them now.”
She let out a sigh, got up from her chair, and reached the door just as she heard someone knock.
11
ANXIOUS ON MANY LEVELS to learn how Mark and Catherine had fared, Emma opened the door. As she had assumed, Mark was standing there, but he was alone.
“Isn’t Catherine coming down?” Emma asked as she stepped aside to let her son enter.
“She was awfully tired and asked me to speak with you alone,” he said as he passed by her. “I hope I’m not interrupting,” he said to Zachary.
“Not at all. We were expecting you.”
“It looks like Wryn has been busy,” Emma observed, noting the host of papers her son was carrying.
Mark eased into the seat behind Emma’s desk, tossed the papers on top, and drooped his body against the back of the chair. He looked as defeated to Emma as he’d been as a child when he had lost his favorite book. “I give up. Catherine and I can’t do this,” he whispered. “We just can’t.”
“Would you like to speak to your mother alone?” Zachary asked Mark, although he made no effort to rise.
“No. Not at all. Catherine and I need all the help we can get.”
Zachary responded with a curt nod, although Emma sensed he already knew what advice he would offer where Wryn was concerned. “What can’t you do?” she asked.
Mark groaned. “We can’t talk to Wryn. We can’t reason with her, and we certainly can’t discipline her. Not when she outwits us at every turn. Read some of these letters. No, read them all, and let Mr. Breckenwith read them, as well,” he said as he waved his hands over the papers scattered on her desk. “Once you do, you’ll see what I mean, and you’ll understand how much Catherine and I need your help. I’m quite sure Mr. Breckenwith will agree.”
Emma picked up one of the papers on the desk, drew in a deep breath, and let it out very slowly before she began to read it. She may not have known Wryn for very long, but she knew her son. Based on his total exasperation, she was prepared to read almost anything.
Or so she thought.
Once she had skimmed through half of Wryn’s letters of apology, which she automatically passed over to Zachary to read, she had to stifle a giggle, but she eventually lost the battle. She was laughing out loud by the time she finished reading the rest—all twenty-two of them!
“If it was ever a wonder before why that young woman needed so much time to write her apologies, it isn’t any longer,” she noted and held up the last letter. “Look,” she said to Zachary. “She even wrote a letter of apology to Sheriff North for, let me see, ‘innocently and inadvertently creating a situation that could have required his intervention when his valuable expertise would have been better spent serving the kindly citizens of Candlewood in more judicious ways, such as keeping the true riffraff from entering the shops on Main Street.’ ”
“The letter to the mayor is cleverly written, too,” Zachary noted with a smirk. “According to Wryn, ‘the most influential official in Candlewood should be commended for the quality of his leadership, notwithstanding his apparent misunderstanding of how important it is to have a suitable place established for young men and women, far beyond the shadow of adults who would deny the future voters in Candlewood the opportunity to enjoy the discourse of polite conversation with one another.’ ”
Mark scowled at them both. “Clever or not, Wryn’s letters to half the merchants on Main Street and probably every elected official in town make a mockery of the three letters of apology she was told to write. Three. Not twenty-something. She can’t seriously expect me to deliver all of the letters she wrote!”
“On the contrary,” Emma suggested. “Wryn is relying on her very valid assumption that you won’t deliver a single one of them.”
“Then why did she write them?”
Emma shrugged her shoulders. “For a number of reasons, I suppose. One would be simply to irritate you and Catherine. Not only did she annoy you both by keeping you waiting day after day for the letters she’d been told to write, but she also found a way to keep the upper hand by overdoing the task she’d been given to such an extent she made the whole punishment seem ludicrous.”
Mark ran his hand through his hair. “So she wins again.”
Zachary laid the letters he had been reading back on the desk. “Only if you let her,” he insisted. “What she’s done reminds me of a case I had some years ago before I came to Candlewood. Succinctly put, on behalf of a client, I had to subpoena a number of financial records from a businessman which I needed by a certain date in order to meet the deadline for filing suit. Like Wryn, the lawyer for that businessman tested the court’s patience by taking much longer than necessary. And like Wryn, when he did comply with the court’s order, he over-responded.”
“How did he do that?” Mark asked.
“Instead of the very specific financial records I’d requested, he gave the court meticulously prepared copies of his entire financial records for the year in question.”
“But why would he do that?”
“He knew I’d never be able to locate what I needed in the boxes of records he submitted to the court in time to meet the deadline to file the suit against his client. Because I had just won a very important lawsuit filed against one of his other clients, he also wanted to annoy me and prove he could outwit me, which is exactly the way your mother just de
scribed Wryn’s motives.”
Mark let out a sigh. “Which he apparently did.”
“Almost,” Zachary replied. “I felt exactly the way you do now until I realized that the information I recovered within the first several days allowed me to file a completely different lawsuit on behalf of my client, which we ultimately won, incidentally.”
“I’m not convinced there’s any great insight into Wryn’s character in any of the letters she wrote that would help resolve the problem she presents to us,” Mark replied and turned to Emma. “After what Wryn’s already done to you and with her continued defiance, Catherine and I believe it would be best if we reconsidered our request to have her stay here at Hill House with you. With you and Mr. Breckenwith planning to be married, you shouldn’t have to contend with her,” Mark said softly.
Emma noted the look of satisfaction on Zachary’s face but tried to keep her focus on her son. “Perhaps not, but can you think of a better way for her to force you to take her back to Albany with you than to make one grand show of defiance after another?”
“No, but—”
“When I questioned her for you the other day, she admitted she’d overheard you both making plans to leave her here, which means she had a good bit of time to make her plans to force you to change your mind,” Emma said.
“I suppose so,” he grumbled.
“She may have written all those letters to annoy you,” Emma continued, “but I think she’s deliberately acting out more for my benefit than yours. If her behavior is outrageous enough or annoying enough, she assumes I won’t agree to let you leave her here, that I’ll demand you take her back to Albany and find another place for her to live.”
Zachary nodded. “Despite the way she’s chosen to force your hand, I think Albany is where she should be, if only to make it easier for the girl to reconcile with her mother.”
“Her mother has made it very clear she won’t even consider allowing Wryn to move back home,” Mark countered. “Given her behavior tonight, I’m not sure what we’re going to do with her,” he said, turning to Emma. “But that shouldn’t be your concern, Mother. It’s mine and Catherine’s. Under the circumstances, we’ll simply have to accept the fact that we have to take her back with us.”
“I’m not certain we can allow Wryn to force you to do that,” Emma argued and held up one of her hands when both Mark and Zachary looked at her askance. “I’ve been around Wryn long enough to know she’s the most flippant, disrespectful young woman I’ve ever met.”
“That’s an understatement,” her son quipped as Zachary nodded his agreement.
“At the same time, however, she also has more gumption than most,” Emma continued. “She’s highly clever and intelligent, as well. In other words, she’s a handful of trouble, which is perfectly understandable,” Emma ventured, voicing her thoughts out loud as they came to her.
“In what way?” Zachary asked as he leaned forward a bit.
“In almost every way,” Emma argued. “From what Mark’s told me, Wryn lost her father and two of her brothers or sisters when she was very young. Since then, she’s had two stepfathers and a passel of new half brothers and now stepsisters who seem to have exasperated her troubles. Her life has been one loss or one adjustment after another, but the greatest loss she’s suffered is the loss of her mother’s love and devotion,” she said as she began to fully comprehend, perhaps for the first time, what a difficult life Wryn had led.
Mark shook his head. “It’s not my fault or Catherine’s fault that Wryn’s life has been so difficult.”
“Nor is it yours,” Zachary insisted, clearly implying Emma had no responsibility to intervene on Wryn’s behalf.
“If there’s any blame, it belongs to her mother,” Mark offered.
Stung by Zachary’s lack of support, Emma stiffened her back. “But if Wryn can’t rely completely and totally on her mother, which is only too apparent, then who can she turn to for guidance and understanding? An aunt or uncle? A stranger? Tell me, Mark, wouldn’t you or Catherine be different people if either of you had grown up in circumstances similar to Wryn’s?”
“Yes, I . . . I suppose we would,” her son admitted.
Emma smiled. “Of course you would. We can’t turn our backs on her, but if you let her think she’s won and simply agree to take her back to Albany because of her outrageous behavior, then you haven’t a hope that you can help her change her ways and become the young woman she should and can be.”
“Which means what, precisely?” Zachary interjected, his eyes flashing with disappointment. Or was it annoyance?
Emma swallowed hard and held tight to the faith that guided her. “I have to believe that as inconvenient as it may seem to all of us at the moment, there’s a reason why Wryn arrived on Mark and Catherine’s doorstep just as they were about to leave for Candlewood to visit with me. There’s no denying that having her here at Hill House is difficult, but I also have to believe that our lives have become intertwined because God sent Wryn here as part of His plans and to serve His purpose, not ours.”
Zachary sat stone-faced, but Mark’s gaze was clearly troubled. “What do you think we should do, Mother?”
“Accept the roles God’s given us,” she murmured, offering to Mark and Zachary the very wisdom Aunt Frances had shared with her. “I know it won’t be easy, but I don’t think we can simply turn our backs on her, do you?” she asked.
Mark swallowed. “No, and I don’t believe Catherine would want to do that, either.”
With her heart beginning to pound, she turned to Zachary, fully aware that her future with this man lay in the balance. “How do you feel about it?”
He let out a long breath. “That depends on what you have in mind for her while she’s here and, additionally, how long you expect her to remain.”
Despite his lack of unquestioning support, she was grateful for his honesty. She swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to be equally honest. “I’m afraid I can’t ease either one of your concerns right now. I’ve only just sorted through my own thoughts about Wryn. I can say that I think she must find her situation here confusing. On the one hand, Mark and Catherine are telling her what to do. On the other, she has to make amends to me for what she did, which makes her accountable to me. Since we’re all living in the same household, she has far too many people to worry about pleasing, and no single person has total authority over her.”
Mark shook his head and smiled for the first time since he had entered his mother’s office. “I’m not certain she’s worried about pleasing anyone other than herself at the moment.”
“Maybe not,” Emma replied. She began to formulate a plan in her mind. “But it’s up to us to make sure she does need to please only one person at a time. Starting . . . starting with me.”
“But you just said she deliberately wants to displease you so you won’t agree to let her stay here,” Mark argued.
“Our goal isn’t to have her stay here with me. Our goal should be to convince her that it’s in her own best interests to please me. If we do, she’ll end up changing her behavior, which means she’ll be able to return to Albany with you and Catherine and hopefully, reconcile with her mother.”
Zachary’s gaze narrowed. “What if she doesn’t change her behavior? Are you prepared to have her live here in Candlewood indefinitely?”
Feeling forced to choose between marrying Zachary and helping Wryn, Emma’s pulse quickened. Instinctively, she reached up and fingered the delicate pin on her collar as she struggled with a question that tugged at her soul: If God had truly set her on the path to marrying this man, why had He also sent Wryn to her?
“I . . . I’m not certain,” she ventured. “I think I might have a plan that—”
“Whatever your plan, make sure you leave me out of it,” Zachary insisted as he got to his feet. “If you’ll recall, I’m leaving at first light on business, and I still have to pack. Hopefully, you and your family will have this matter resolved before I get back
. I can see myself out,” he offered gently, but abruptly took his leave.
12
NO HISTRIONICS. NO FLIPPANT remarks. No challenging retorts. Only disbelief and heart-wrenching pain echoed in the parlor the next morning.
“I can’t believe you did this. You actually did this to me,” Wryn whispered to Mark and Catherine over and over again, her voice quaking, growing softer and softer with each word. Eventually, she collapsed against the back of her chair in the east parlor and let the papers she had been reading slip to her lap.
Wryn’s reaction to the document making her Emma’s ward tugged at Emma’s heart. With Mark and Catherine sitting together in the settee directly in front of their niece, Emma sat off to the side next to Mother Garrett and watched as huge silent tears flowed down the younger woman’s cheeks and dripped off the tip of her chin. Her face was as pale as the moonflowers that would soon blossom at night, and she was trembling so hard she had wrapped her hands around her waist.
Indeed, Wryn’s reaction was so surprising and so disturbing, Emma was tempted to cancel the plans she had worked out late last night with Mark and Catherine. Emma had never intended to deepen the pain Wryn had experienced when banished from her mother’s home and her affection, but she moved quickly to lessen it. “I’m only named as your guardian temporarily,” she offered, grateful that Wryn had not noticed that while her mother’s name was on the document, her signature was not, which was also true of the judge named on the papers, which Emma had hastily drawn up herself.
Wryn sniffled, blinked back tears, and looked around the room with a dazed expression. As if only realizing now that she was not alone, she wiped her face with her hands, sat up straight, and set her shoulders back, as if setting the chip she carried there back into place. “The document doesn’t say that,” she challenged, staring hard at Emma.
