Love Finds a Home (Love Comes Softly Series #8)

by Janette Oke

  "The concert sounds wonderful," Belinda told him.

  "I should have waited until I could make it a proper evening. . . but. . . well, I didn't wish to waste any more time. I still can't believe we've lived in the same city for three years without knowing it."

  "If you need to work, why don't I meet you at the Opera Hall?" suggested Belinda.

  "Oh, but I hate to--" began Drew.

  "I wouldn't mind, really. It would be no trouble at all for me to arrange to meet you there."

  Drew was still hesitant.

  "Really," insisted Belinda.

  "You're a great sport," commented Drew. "But it hardly seems like the proper way to treat a young lady."

  Belinda laughed. "Well, this young lady doesn't mind a bit. Honestly. I would rather you took a few minutes for a proper meal than to have to quickly dash home and over here to collect me."

  "Thanks, Belinda," Drew finally agreed. "I will meet you there, then. Say, eight o'clock. By the east balcony stairs. You know where I'm referring to?"

  "Yes. The one near the water fountains."

  "Right!"

  "Fine. Eight o'clock by the stairs."

  Belinda was about to say good-bye when Drew stopped her. "But wait," he said. "If you have one conveyance there, and I another, how will I take you home?"

  "Well," she laughed, "I guess I will come home the same way I went. That will save you a trip across town."

  "You don't mind?"

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  "No, I don't mind. It will be nice to enjoy a concert. It's been ages since I have gone. Not since Aunt Virgie--Mrs. Stafford-Smyth--passed away."

  "I'll see you there," Drew said and bade her good-bye.

  Belinda lingered thoughtfully in the hallway after hanging up the phone. She couldn't believe that after all these years, she was actually going out for an evening with Drew. She, too, thought it seemed like a dream. A wonderful dream.

  Maybe . . . just maybe this is the reason I could never feel anything for Jackson or Rand. Maybe, in the back of my mind, I have always felt like my heart . . . that I sort of. . . belonged to Drew.

  She blushed at the thought and hurried in to snatch up her needlework. But she could not concentrate. Eventually she rang for Potter.

  "I believe I'll make an early night of it, Potter," she explained. "Don't bother with tea later."

  Potter nodded, then asked with concern, "You aren't comin' down with somethin' are you, miss?"

  "Oh no. No. Nothing like that. It's been a long day. The attorney still has us tied up in legal wrangling. I guess I feel a bit edgy."

  Potter still looked worried.

  "It'll all sort itself out, I'm sure," Belinda smiled.

  "I was thinking of you, miss--not the house. You look rather flushed," Potter responded, and Belinda was surprised. The older woman sounded so genuinely concerned.

  "I'm fine. Really," she insisted, knowing why her cheeks were rosy. The housekeeper nodded and turned to leave.

  "And, Potter," Belinda called, "on Saturday night I would like dinner a bit earlier. I'll be going out. Could you inform Cook, please?"

  Potter nodded, her eyes brightening with unasked questions. "Very well, miss. What time?"

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  "Around six, I should think."

  Potter nodded again.

  "Good night, then," said Belinda, giving the matronly woman a smile.

  "Sleep well, miss," replied Potter, and Belinda smiled again as the woman left the room. She planned to do just that.

  But she didn't. Her mind was far too busy with many things, not the least of which were mental pictures and imaginary conversations with an old friend by the name of Drew Simpson. She finally rose, wrapped herself in a blanket, and sat by the window in her darkened room looking out over the moonlit garden. Then she began, "Dear Lord, you know what I am feeling right now . . ."

  Belinda was in a tizzy on Saturday. She was so restless she couldn't settle down to any of her appointed tasks. She felt annoyed with herself. "After all, it's just a concert with an old friend," she told herself. But try as she might, her heart would not accept the logic of her mind. She finally fled to the gardens and Thomas for some kind of diversion.

  Thomas was busy cleaning the flower beds of debris and fallen leaves. The fall flowers were the only ones blooming now. Thomas always liked to have everything nice and tidy long before the winter storms visited the manor property.

  "Your mums are beautiful, Thomas," Belinda said, bringing a smile to the old man's face.

  "It will soon be time to work with the bulbs," stated Thomas. "Seems every yeah speeds by just a little fastah."

  Belinda nodded, though she herself had felt that this year was particularly slow

  "Just bloom and it's time to cut them back," Thomas was saying gloomily. "The season flies by so fast you scarcely get to

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  enjoy them." Belinda thought she knew how the old man felt.

  She lingered for a few minutes, patted the head of the docile McIntyre, and then wandered off down the path. There were still plenty of pretty things to see. She would miss the gardens. Probably even more than she would miss the house with all its pretty things.

  Belinda managed to tick a few more minutes from her day as she dallied, but soon she could endure no more wanderings and hastened back to the house to study the clock again.

  At last she allowed herself to retire to her room to choose her dress for the evening. She pulled gown after gown from the closet and studied them and then hung them back. Drew might judge some of her silks and satins too elaborate for a country girl. On the other hand, she didn't want to look plain and dowdy, either. She looked at another gown, studied that one, and debated it all over again. It did serve to fill in a few more minutes of the long day.

  At last Belinda selected a green gown with classic lines. It has style without being fussy, she reasoned. With some simple jewelry and my hair fixed, I'll fit in nicely with the concert crowd and be well dressed without being "showy." Belinda nodded in satisfaction as she laid the dress on her bed and prepared for a bath.

  She had not called Ella to help with grooming preparations for some time, but she allowed herself the luxury of ringing Ella now--partly because she needed someone to talk to. She feared she might fly apart if she didn't have some way to release a little of her pent-up excitement.

  Ella responded immediately to the ring. "Yes, miss?"

  "Would you draw me a bath, please, Ella?" Belinda requested. "The jasmine scent, I believe. And then I would like you to fix my hair. I am attending the concert tonight with an old friend."

  Belinda saw the flutter of curiosity and excitement in Ella's

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  eyes, but the girl avoided asking the questions she obviously would have liked to ask. "Yes, miss," she said again and went to comply.

  "It's been a long time since you've been to a concert, miss," Ella dared to say as she came out of the bathroom.

  "Yes," agreed Belinda. "A very long time."

  She pinned her hair up so that it wouldn't get wet. "I'm quite looking forward to it."

  Ella nodded, a smile on her lips.

  Then Ella became almost unforgivably bold. "Is your friend visiting in town?" she asked.

  "No."

  "She lives here?"

  "He," corrected Belinda. "He."

  "Oh," responded Ella, looking pleased with the information she had ferreted from her young mistress. "I thought maybe it was someone from your hometown."

  Belinda could not hide the excitement in her voice. "Oh, he is. But he's in Boston now. He has been here for years, and I didn't even know until the other day. He is an attorney--with the same firm that has been doing my legal work. Can you imagine? Neither of us knew that the other was in the city. We just happened to meet last Thursday"

  By now Ella was smiling broadly. "Why, that's smashing, miss," she enthused. "No wonder you're excited--going to the concert--and with an old friend. How nice!"

  Be
linda agreed.

  "Your bath is ready now, miss," Ella told her. "I'll be back in twenty minutes to do your hair."

  By the expression on Ella's face as she went out the door, Belinda could imagine Ella and Sarah whispering together shortly and speculating about it all. And, to tell the truth, the thought didn't even bother her.

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  NINETEEN

  The Concert

  Drew was already waiting by the stairs when Belinda found her way through the crowded lobby. He eagerly moved to greet her and offered her his arm as he led her toward their seats. "You make that dress look lovely" he whispered for her ears only.

  Belinda smiled at the compliment.

  "How was your day?" she asked him.

  "Long. But profitable," he answered. "I did manage to get a lot done--though the time seemed to do a lot of dragging."

  Belinda certainly agreed, though she did not say so.

  "Do you come here often?" Belinda asked as they were seated.

  "Oh no. Not nearly as often as I'd like. At first I was much too busy studying. And besides, I had to work when I wasn't in class in order to pay my way through school. I didn't have the money or the time to spend in such places as this."

  Belinda admired his honesty.

  "How long have you been with Keats, Cross and Newman?" she asked.

  "About a year." He chuckled. "So now I've finally earned enough to afford an occasional luxury. I decided about six months ago that I should soak up a bit of culture. So I went. . . once."

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  Belinda's face showed her bewilderment. "Didn't you enjoy it?" she asked.

  "The music, yes. But I simply didn't enjoy going alone." Belinda nodded. "I feel the same way," she admitted. "I have not even gone once since Aunt Virgie died."

  "Well, now we have each other's company," Drew said with a smile. "Shall we come every week?"

  Belinda smiled back. She wasn't sure if Drew really was expecting an answer or was just teasing her.

  The orchestra began to warm up and it became difficult to talk. Drew leaned closer and whispered, "This is the one part of the concert I would gladly forego. Makes one wonder how such a dreadful noise could ever all come together to make any kind of music."

  Belinda chuckled at his little joke, feeling close and contented. It was so nice to be with a friend.

  The evening was a total delight to Belinda. Every piece that was played was a "favorite." At least that was how the music affected her. Drew seemed to feel the same way. They nodded to each other, whispered little comments now and then, and thoroughly enjoyed their time spent together.

  At the break they left their seats and went for a cold drink. They stood in a shadowed recess of the main hall and sipped lemonade punch and made delightful small talk, getting to know each other all over again. Then they joined the crowd drifting back to their seats for the second half of the performance.

  "We must do this again," Drew whispered as the last applause was fading away, and Belinda nodded in dreamy contentment.

  "I wish I could escort you home," he continued, frowning in a perplexed way, and Belinda earnestly wished he could, too. It was all she could do to keep from suggesting that she send

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  Windsor on home alone and have Drew drive her. But common sense prevailed. After all, it was late, and Drew must be very weary.

  "Would you be interested in coming to church with me tomorrow?" she asked instead and Drew's eyes lit up. "I'd love to," he agreed.

  "Fine. The service is at ten o'clock. The church is on First and Maple. I'll meet you there and then you can come to dinner."

  "I would like that, very much," he returned with enthusiasm.

  They moved through the crowded foyer and made their way toward the street.

  "Windsor said he'd wait near that streetlight," Belinda informed Drew, and he steered her in that direction.

  Windsor was waiting as he promised, and there seemed to be no reason to linger. So Belinda bid Drew good-night and thanked him again for the concert.

  "Until tomorrow at ten," he said softly, and her heart gave a joyful skip. And then Windsor was clucking to the horses and they were on their way, moving briskly through the city streets.

  Belinda had quite a time getting to sleep that night. She went over and over each portion of the wonderful evening. She reviewed each part of the conversation, each selection of the orchestra, each moment of their time together--and then she reminded herself that she must get some sleep if she was going to be at her best the next morning. Even so she had a most difficult time stilling her spinning brain and her beating heart.

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  The next morning Belinda hummed as she dressed in her most becoming suit and pinned her feather-draped hat on shiny curls. It was a beautiful fall morning, and she looked forward to her drive to church. She had considered walking, but if the wind should arise, it could blow her hair and the feathers on her hat and she would get to church breathless and concerned. So she advised Windsor to bring the carriage as usual.

  Drew was waiting on the church steps when she arrived, and she greeted him warmly and led the way into the large sanctuary.

  "This is enormous," Drew whispered. "Are you sure you won't get us lost?"

  Belinda smiled.

  "I've never been in such a big church," he commented. "Where do you attend?" she asked him.

  "A little mission--right downtown. You'll have to come with me sometime."

  "I'd like that," Belinda replied. They were ushered into a pew and prepared themselves for the morning worship.

  Belinda was pleased to hear Drew beside her, singing the familiar hymns. He had a pleasant voice and was not afraid to sing out heartily. Most of the congregation tended to be rather timid about singing.

  The minister's sermon was good--correct in content and flawless in delivery as usual.

  The two were greeted at the door as they left the sanctuary, and a few of the parishioners nodded Belinda's way. After all, she had been a faithful part of this church for three years.

  "How did you arrive?" Belinda asked Drew.

  "I hired a carriage," he answered simply.

  "You didn't ask the driver to wait, did you?"

  "No. I paid him and sent him on his way."

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  "Good," she responded. "Windsor has been sent along home, too."

  "You're going to walk?" teased Drew. "In your Sunday finery?"

  "It's only a short distance," Belinda told him. "It will help me appreciate my dinner."

  Drew fell into step beside her. "This is a very nice part of town," he commented as he looked about them. "Your former employer must have been a lady of means."

  Belinda nodded. She had told Drew very little about Mrs. Stafford-Smyth. "Did I tell you how I met her?" asked Belinda. "No, I thought not. Well, she was traveling. She loved to travel. Went all the way to San Francisco--Just to see it,' she said. She traveled out by train and on her way home she was taken ill-- at our town. They brought her to Luke. She was really very sick. Had suffered a stroke. We didn't know for days if she would make it. But she did. Gradually. When she was well enough to travel on home, she asked me to accompany her. I did because I was . . . well, bored, I guess, and had never seen anything but our little town."

  "So you came to Boston," said Drew. "Now I remember, Luke told me briefly of your out-of-town patient. I hadn't realized that you had been with her all this time. You stayed on with her, then?"

  "I did. I intended to accompany her here and then return again. But she wanted me to stay on and I agreed. I always thought I would stay just a bit longer because she needed me. She was so lonely."

  "Didn't she have family?"

  "Two grandsons. But they both live in Paris. Their mother was French. Aunt Virgie kept hoping and praying that they would decide to return to America . . . but it didn't work that

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  way. They both married French girls and settled down over there."

  "So now sh
e is gone . . . and you are still here?"

  Belinda nodded.

  "And you have the affairs of the estate to handle . . . rather than the grandsons?"

  Belinda could tell that Drew thought the matter rather strange. It would seem so to anyone.

  "She left the boys each a sizable amount of money," Belinda said.

  "And. . ." Drew prompted.

  "She was a very generous lady. She left her staff each part of the estate, as well."

  Drew nodded. "And you have to wait for all the estate to be put in order?"

  "Right," she responded with a sigh. "I was so in hopes that it would be taken care of by now . . . but it all takes so much time. We still need to--" Belinda caught herself. "But I promised I wouldn't discuss that, didn't I? Firm rules. This is Mr. Keats's affair."

  Drew smiled.

  They walked along in silence and then Belinda led the way down the long driveway toward the magnificently appointed home.

  Drew's eyes widened. "You're not telling me that this is home, are you?" he asked.

  "This is Marshall Manor," announced Belinda. "And I know just how you feel. I felt that way myself the first time I saw it."

  "I believe it," Drew murmured, drawing in a breath. "I've never seen a house like this one in my entire life. No wonder it is taking an age to settle the estate."

  "I suppose that has something to do with it," she admitted

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  and led the way through the front door to the wide entrance hall. Windsor was waiting to take the gentleman's hat and relieve Belinda of her parasol.

  "Come," Belinda said to Drew. "I'll show you where you can freshen up. Dinner will be served in a few minutes."

  Drew was studying the paintings in the entrance when Belinda came back down the stairs from her room. "I've never seen such grandeur," he admitted. "I can't imagine what it must be like to live here."