Where Love Dwells

by Delia Parr

  “I’m a good taster.”

  “Me too!”

  “Me too,” Deborah announced before she turned about to peek back at Emma. “Don’t worry. I’ll share mine with you,” she whispered.

  “You’re a sweet girl. Thank you,” Emma murmured.

  “I’ve got another announcement for anyone who might be interested to know there’s a very curious gentleman standing right in the doorway, wondering if the woman he wants to marry might be willing to speak with him for a few moments,” Mother Garrett crooned, surrounded by three children anxious to get to the kitchen.

  Emma cringed. “Why is he right there? Couldn’t you show him to the parlor or . . . or my office?” she whispered, knowing full well she could not escape without having him see her crawl out from beneath the table.

  Unfortunately, Mother Garrett chose to usher her little charges into the kitchen without answering, and Emma had no trouble envisioning the look of merriment on her face or Zachary’s, either, for that matter.

  While she tried to decide how to make as graceful an exit as possible from her place under the table, Zachary peeked through the opening where the blanket had been and grinned. “Are you busy, or do you have a moment to talk?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I can talk, but if you would be so kind as to wait for me in the parlor, I’ll join you there as soon as I can get more suitably dressed.”

  Like Mother Garrett, he ignored her request. Instead, he carefully put the blanket back into place before he crawled under the table to sit in front of her. “I haven’t been in a tent like this for more than forty years. If I’d known you were having this much fun today, I would have been here sooner.”

  “You completely missed breakfast,” Emma noted, hoping to change the subject.

  “Unfortunately, I overslept. Just one of the hazards of living without a housekeeper who used to rise at the crack of dawn and make enough noise to make sure I was up at a decent hour. Those are her words, not mine,” he added in a husky voice. “Are those men’s trousers you’re wearing?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I can’t crawl about with my grandchildren if I’m wearing skirts, especially in the dark. Now if you wouldn’t mind, I think it would be much more appropriate to continue our conversation in the parlor.”

  “I think I rather like sitting here in the dark with you. We actually have a bit of privacy here, which has been hard to come by lately,” he said and cupped her face.

  With her heart racing, Emma blinked hard. “If you think for one moment, Zachary Breckenwith, that I’m going to let you kiss me for the first time when we’re sitting under a tent of blankets with my grandchildren in the next room and my family running back and forth, I’m . . . I’m . . .”

  He kissed her once. Very gently. Very lovingly. Very . . . convincingly.

  She sighed, let go of every doubt she had about marrying this man, and kissed him back.

  “You were saying?”

  “I don’t believe I was saying anything,” she whispered and made a mental note to cut a bit of cloth from the trousers she was wearing to add to her keepsakes.

  Then she kissed him again.

  25

  WHEN WARREN HAD NOT RETURNED to Hill House by mid-morning, Emma decided not to wait for him any longer.

  Her youngest grandchildren were napping, the older ones were busy making pretzels with Mother Garrett, and Anna had nearly everyone else taking care of the day’s cleaning. With other important matters pressing to be settled, she also decided not to let the weather hold her back from venturing into town.

  Emma slipped out onto the front porch with one of Mother Garrett’s canvas shopping bags, which held the legal papers Zachary had drafted for her. The rain had stopped, although the skies held the promise of more rain to come. Raindrops glistened on the budding leaves of the hydrangeas that bordered the porch and the front steps, but the heavy rains earlier had left the front yard littered with puddles. Once she had a route planned out to avoid those puddles, she started down the steps only to hear the front door open behind her.

  “I told you she hadn’t gotten very far. Wait for us,” Benjamin said.

  She looked back over her shoulder and saw Mark following on his older brother’s heels. “You just got back from town. Where are you two going now?”

  Benjamin grinned and took her left arm. “We’re going with you. That hill is pretty slick, and I’d rather not think about what would happen if you slipped. At best, you’d end up sliding straight to the bottom.”

  She smiled but decided not to mention that she had actually sled down this hill last winter in the middle of the night.

  “Main Street is nothing but mud, so we thought we’d better go with you to make sure you don’t take a spill before you get to the sidewalk,” Mark suggested as he took her other arm.

  She smiled again and wondered what either of them would say if they knew how many times she had fallen when she had skated down Main Street, too. Emma was not about to tell them their arguments held any merit at all. Not when the memory of slipping in the mud and pulling Zachary down with her was still so fresh in her mind. “I’m wearing good heavy boots. As long as I take my time, I’ll be fine,” Emma insisted.

  Benjamin looked down at her feet. “Grams said those are the same boots you were wearing when you fell in the mud down by the gazebo.”

  When Emma’s eyes widened, he nodded to his brother. “If we both get a good hold of her arms, we can swoop her right past all those puddles and make sure she doesn’t fall.”

  In the next heartbeat, her two sons lifted her right off her feet and did not set her down again until they reached the front gate.

  “There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Benjamin teased as he opened the gate for her. “After you, Mother.”

  Laughing, Emma assumed there was little Mother Garrett had not told her sons. She led them through the gate, but Mark held on to her while Benjamin secured it again. “Don’t you two have something better to do with your time?”

  Mark shook his head. “Not when there’s a house full of females cleaning anything that’s standing still.”

  “Or when there’s a passel of children in the kitchen with dough up to the elbows. Besides, we’d rather be with you.” Benjamin flashed her a smile that soothed her tattered heart as much as their concern for her.

  Arm in arm, they started down the hill. To her consternation, she slipped twice, but her sons held her fast and she managed to stay on her feet. After the conversation she’d had last night with Warren, Emma now took full advantage of the opportunity to talk to Benjamin and Mark. “Now that you’ve been back in Candlewood for a bit, do you find yourself thinking about your father or how it was to grow up here?”

  Mark nodded. “When I was in the General Store with you that first time, I almost expected to see him come through the curtain behind the counter wearing that old apron of his. He always kept a few pebbles in his pocket, remember, Ben?”

  “He did?” Emma asked. “I don’t recall that.”

  Benjamin cringed and patted the top of his head. “I do. He used one now and then when he caught me outside when I was supposed to be helping him inside the store.”

  “Or when he caught me in the back storeroom reading a book instead of unloading boxes,” Mark admitted.

  Emma gasped. “He threw a pebble at you?”

  Benjamin chuckled. “Not at us. He’d just toss one close by to get our attention. Now that I think back, I’m sure he missed hitting us on purpose, but once in a while, his aim must have been off and we’d get popped on the head. That stung!”

  “I’m not sure who felt worse,” Mark added, tightening his hold on Emma’s arm as she walked down the steepest part of the hill.

  Benjamin shook his head. “He never raised his voice to us. Not that I recall.”

  “He didn’t have to raise his voice. He’d just look at us with those big eyes of his and let us know we’d disappointed him.”

  “Or he’d toss a pebble or
two in our direction,” Benjamin added.

  Emma let out a sigh. “I do remember how soft-spoken he was, but I never ever knew about the pebbles. Do you . . . do you think your father was happy with the life he led?”

  “Why?” Benjamin asked. “Don’t you think he was happy?”

  “Yes, I do, but sometimes, one person has a different perspective or different memories, like the pebbles I never knew about, but . . .”

  “Warren said something to upset you, didn’t he? That’s why he didn’t come to breakfast.” Benjamin caught his brother’s eye. “I told you he’d said something to Mother,” he grumbled. “I know Warren’s my brother, but he can be a pompous idiot at times. Don’t pay any mind to anything he says.”

  “Benjamin!”

  “He’s right, Mother. Warren’s my brother and I love him, but that doesn’t give him the right to say anything to upset you.”

  “He has a right to his own memories,” Emma said.

  Benjamin stopped, forcing Emma and Mark to stop, as well. “You’re right. We all have our own memories of Father and of growing up here, but Warren is as blind as he is arrogant if he doesn’t remember that Father was a plain God-fearing man of principle who loved his life and loved his sons. There hasn’t been a day since I left Candlewood that I don’t try to be the man and the husband and the father he was. Not a day.”

  “He’s right, Mother, and I think Warren knows that, too,” Mark said.

  Emma blinked back tears and hugged her sons’ arms closer to her. “Your father would be as proud of you as I am, if he were here.”

  “I’ll talk to Warren,” Mark offered.

  “No, I . . . I need to do that. Please don’t say anything to him. He has . . . he has a lot on his mind right now.”

  “Must be money. He never did think about much of anything else,” Benjamin quipped, looking up at the dark clouds overhead. “But I won’t say anything to him. Not unless you ask me,” he added and grinned at her. “Now let’s talk about something else. Are you going to marry that lawyer of yours while we’re all here or not?”

  The memory of the kisses she had shared with Zachary made her lips tingle, and she felt her cheeks warm. “Why? Do you think I should?”

  “Yes,” Mark said firmly.

  Benjamin grinned. “I agree, and Warren doesn’t have a vote. He’s not here, not that it matters much. He’d be outvoted anyway, four to one.”

  “Four to one?” Emma asked.

  “Grams gets two votes, and she already voted yes, so why don’t you stop at Mr. Breckenwith’s and set a date?” Benjamin suggested as they reached the bottom of the hill and turned down Main Street.

  Emma gasped. “You two talked to her and took a vote about when I should get married?”

  Mark tightened his hold on her arm. “Watch where you walk. The mud’s pretty thick along here. Grams thinks you should get married on your birthday. That way we’d have two celebrations instead of one.”

  “On my birthday? That’s less than a week away! There are so many things that need to be settled. I couldn’t possibly get everything done by then,” Emma argued, feeling pressured to make a decision that was far more complicated than anyone in her family seemed to realize.

  “Do you love him?” Mark asked.

  “Yes, I . . . I do,” she replied, realizing she had never told Zachary she loved him.

  Benjamin grinned. “Then what are you waiting for? Go ahead and marry him. There’s nothing more important that needs to be settled than that.”

  Emma swallowed hard, wondering if Benjamin was far wiser than she was.

  * * *

  Emma waited until Benjamin and Mark were a good two houses away before she knocked on Zachary’s door. They had promised to wait for her at the Glenns’ cottage, which fit well into Emma’s plans, since she had wanted to stop and check up on Wryn on her first day doing chores there.

  Zachary answered the door when she knocked a second time. “You’re a day early. I thought you said you were going to stop to see the house tomorrow.”

  “If it’s an inconvenient time now, I can do that, but since the rain stopped, at least for the moment, I thought I’d come into town.”

  “I’m expecting a client, but he shouldn’t be here for half an hour or so,” he said and ushered her into the foyer. “You’ve been in my office many times, so I doubt you’d need to see that again.”

  Recalling the office that ran along the side of the house from front to back, littered with piles of legal papers, journals, and correspondence, she shuddered. “I assume it’s still as cluttered as ever?”

  He grinned. “I work best that way.”

  “I prefer my clutter out of view,” she countered with a grin of her own.

  “Should we start with the kitchen, then?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I shouldn’t think the state of the kitchen would matter much to anyone other than Mother Garrett, and she would insist on seeing it for herself, anyway. I think I’d rather see the parlor or any of the other rooms on the first floor.”

  He led her down the hall past the office and a side staircase to a small parlor. “I don’t use this room very much, but I should think that would change if we decided to live here—although it’s not as grand as either of the two parlors at Hill House.”

  Emma looked around the room, which held a small settee covered in pale gold fabric. Two chairs upholstered in a bright brocade sat grouped together in front of a small fireplace. Gentle light filtered through lace curtains on two large windows, giving the room a warm, homey glow.

  “It’s certainly a bit smaller than you’re used to at Hill House. I never did replace any of my aunt’s furniture, but we could do that, if you like.”

  “It’s charming as it is, although I think a fresh coat might be in order for the walls,” Emma suggested as she followed him into the dining room. To her surprise, the room itself was empty, save for a number of boxes lined up against the far wall.

  “Aunt Elizabeth took the dining room furniture with her when she moved to Bounty. After she passed away, I didn’t bother to bring it back,” he explained a bit sheepishly.

  “Then I would assume you take your meals in the kitchen,” Emma offered with a grin. “Perhaps I should see that after all.”

  “Right through here,” he said and led her through a door into a room that took her breath away. As charming as the parlor had been, the kitchen was even more delightful. A bank of windows ran the entire length of the back wall and provided a view of a large, fenced garden that held every bit as much promise as the terraced gardens at Hill House. Unfortunately, the entire garden was overgrown with weeds, some as high as her waist, but she had no trouble envisioning a colorful garden there.

  A large round table that took up a good part of the room could easily seat twelve and had a revolving center section to make serving dishes easily accessible to everyone seated. The cookstove and fireplace, along with other cupboards and counters, looked fairly new, but Mother Garrett would know better about whether or not she would want them replaced.

  “It’s lovely,” Emma offered as her resolve to remain at Hill House began to soften.

  He raised a brow.

  “I didn’t say I was anxious to cook in this room. I said it was lovely, which means I think taking meals here would be most pleasant.”

  “I see,” he murmured. “There are several outbuildings farther back on the property. Since they haven’t been used for years, I don’t think we need to look at them right now. Shall we go upstairs? There’s a narrow staircase here,” he said, pointing to the wall next to them. “Or we could go back and use the staircase in the hall.”

  “We can use this one,” she suggested. When they reached the top of the stairs, she found herself in a hallway that ran the length of the house. A lush carpet runner beneath her feet softened her footsteps as they walked, and there was not a speck of dust to be seen.

  “There are three bedrooms, but the largest is in the front of the house.
”

  She peeked into the two bedrooms as they passed by. She assumed he had been using one of them, judging by the disarray she noted. She dismissed both rooms as far too small for two people to share, but they were a perfect size for Mother Garrett and for Wryn, if she wound up living with them temporarily. The closer she got to the front bedroom, however, the more she realized the impropriety of being here on the second floor, alone, with a man who was not yet her husband.

  “This was the room my aunt and uncle used,” he said as he opened the door. “Again, it’s probably not what you’re accustomed to at Hill House, but we can remedy that easily enough, if that’s what you want to do.”

  Reluctant to enter the bedroom, she remained in the hallway and peeked inside. The walls were painted a soft yellow, just like the water pitcher and bowl that had belonged to her mother, which she kept in her bedroom at Hill House. No rug covered the floorboards, but they had been polished to a sheen. A simple handmade quilt covered the four-poster bed, and she could almost see her trunk set in place at the foot of it. On the far wall, two wooden chests of drawers sat side by side, with a small lady’s vanity snuggled in between them. On the opposite wall, a washstand held a large pitcher and bowl, as well as a shaving stand and mirror, leaving room for the well-loved walnut wardrobe that had belonged to Emma’s grandmother.

  “It’s beautiful,” she whispered, and stepped back to allow him to close the door again. As much as she had hoped to find this house uninviting, if only to make her decision easier, she found herself standing in the kind of home she had always thought was beyond her reach while she had been living with Jonas and the boys over the General Store. A quaint home. A cozy home. Not a grand showcase like Hill House that she shared with strangers, but a home she would share only with her family.

  A real home.

  She pressed her lips together and held very still. If she truly believed God had led her to Hill House to provide for the many guests who had sought refuge there, could she not also trust He had led her here now, as well?