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

by Janette Oke

  Belinda released her breath and drew in again from the frosted air.

  "And then one day I . . . I had the nerve. . . the audacity," and there was a bit of a chuckle in his voice, "to kiss you."

  Belinda could feel her face flushing and was glad for the semidarkness.

  "I meant that kiss . . . with all my heart . . . but . . . well, I knew I had no business, no business at all, expecting a girl like you to feel anything for me. Still, I couldn't help the way I felt. I wanted to see you . . . to come calling. In fact, I did a number of times, but each time I got only as far as your spring, and then common sense would take over and I'd go home again."

  "I never knew that," Belinda said in a whispery voice.

  "I knew I had to go away and become an attorney before. . . before I ever had any right to try to win you," Drew

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  went on. Belinda shivered from excitement rather than the cold.

  "I wanted so badly to come and tell you good-bye . . . to ask you to have faith in me . . . and to wait, but I knew I couldn't expect that from you."

  "Oh, but I . . ." began Belinda with a little gasp but then bit her lip to keep silent.

  Drew continued. "Well, I thought I was dreaming that day I met you in the law office. Here I was, an attorney now, and here you were . . . in the same city. It seemed like an answer to all my prayers. I couldn't believe that you had not married. There must have been dozens of young men who would have given an arm to have you." Drew stopped, then laughed at his choice of expressions.

  I was waiting for you! Belinda's heart cried, though she made no comment. I know that now. . . but I didn't know it then.

  "I guess . . . I guess I don't have to tell you that . . . I still love you," Drew said softly. "I suppose I always will. I had hoped, with all my heart, that this time . . . that this time I would have been free to . . . to ask for your love in return. But as I've watched you . . . day after day . . . I've realized . ." Drew's voice fell and his arm tightened again. "I know now I can't ask that of you. If things had been different . ." The words hung in the air.

  Belinda felt something go cold within her. No! No! her heart protested. Don't say that. Don't! She wanted to throw her arms around Drew and sob against him. But she held herself upright, rigid, and forced herself to listen to what he had to say.

  His voice was low, choked. She could tell that the words were as difficult for him to say as for her to hear. "I love you, Belinda, and as . . . as I can't . . . can't ask, I realized as I watched you today that I . . . I just can't go on as we have been . . . as friends. It hurts too much to see you . . . to keep *

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  dreaming. I think it would be better for you . . . for both of us . . . if we don't see each other anymore. You need to .. . to get on with your life . . . and I won't stand in your way."

  They were almost to Drew's tenement building. Belinda was sure she would never make it. She bit her lip and choked back the tears. Drew was saying good-bye, she tried to tell herself. Is it . . . is it because he's heard I'm going home and won't ask me to stay on in Boston? Doesn't he know . . . doesn't he realize that a girl will sometimes gladly change her mind?

  Belinda was on the verge of telling him that he had no right to judge what was best for her, but she checked her impulsiveness. There might be something else . . . something entirely different, something he had not said. She would not put Drew in the impossible position of asking for his explanation. He had said that their lives should go separate ways. She must accept that.

  "I think far too highly of you to be anything but open and honest," Drew was saying. "I do hope you understand why. . . why I can't bear the thought of just being friends."

  Belinda managed a silent nod. She didn't really want friendship, either.

  Sid cried out a loud "Whoa" to the team. Drew pulled Belinda close and tilted her face in the moonlight. "Good-bye, Belinda," he whispered and kissed her once again. Belinda could see the tears in his eyes. Then he was gone, and Sid was calling a good-night to his older brother and moving the team forward again.

  Belinda pulled the blankets closely about her, but she could not stop her shivering. She fought to remain calm, though her heart still pounded and her head whirled.

  "Beautiful night for a drive," Sid called back. Belinda had no answer. She didn't trust her voice. Sid began to whistle, and

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  Belinda pulled the blanket up around her ears to shut out the sound.

  Somehow she made it home. She even managed a goodnight to all of those still lingering about the parlor. Then she pronounced it a very long day, excused herself, and headed for her room.

  She did not even properly prepare herself for bed but threw herself down on the ornate spread, and for the first time since she had been a small child, Belinda cried herself to sleep.

  The die had been cast. There was little Belinda could do about it, she told herself over and over. She arose the next morning, washed her swollen face, and began the job of sorting through her belongings.

  She was going home as planned. There was nothing to hold her any longer in Boston.

  All morning she sorted and packed. She tossed aside all her fancy satins and silks as they were much too ornate for her hometown. Then she eyed them again and thought of Abbie and Kate. With a bit of remodeling they could make quite suitable gowns out of the dresses. The material was lovely. She changed her mind and packed all but the two fanciest. These she would turn over to Potter. The older woman had a knack with a needle. She could do with them whatever she wished.

  There was a rap on Belinda's door, and Ella entered. "No one had seen you about, miss. We feared you might have taken ill or something."

  Belinda assured her that she had not. "I've been busy," she informed Ella. "I have so much to do."

  The maid looked about the cluttered room and her face fell. "You haven't changed your mind?"

  Belinda shook her head.

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  "I was hoping that you would, miss."

  "There's no reason for me to change it," Belinda said, and the words took more effort than Ella would ever know.

  "It will just be so . . . so different without you here," Ella

  went on frankly. "The whole staff had been hopin' you'd stay

  on.

  Belinda looked up from her packing, wondering if Ella had exaggerated. . . . Still, it was nice to hear.

  "Things are all arranged now," she reminded Ella. "There is no need for me to stay around," she reiterated.

  "Well, 'need' is what, miss?" asked Ella frankly. "Maybe the clothes will be washed and the rooms cleaned, but that doesn't mean that you aren't needed. You make this place seem . . . more like a home . . . to all of us."

  Belinda swallowed the lump that threatened to choke her. "That is a very kind thing to say, Ella," she said softly, and when she lifted her head to look at the girl, she saw tears in Ella's eyes.

  "I'll miss you, Ella," she said honestly.

  Ella blinked away her tears and backed toward the door. "I'll get you a tray, miss," she managed and then was gone.

  The day did not get easier for Belinda. The news of her resolve seemed to spread throughout the house and bring a feeling of gloom. It was a compliment of sorts, but Belinda feared the new living arrangement could not tolerate such an atmosphere. She gave up her packing momentarily and went down to try to stir up some merriment.

  But Belinda was of no mind to stay on any longer than was absolutely necessary. As the days slipped by, she quietly continued her preparations. She planned to be on her way by the end of the week.

  When the day of her planned departure arrived, Belinda drew Windsor aside. "Windsor, I should like to be driven to

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  the station this afternoon," she informed him quietly

  The man's eyes grew big with question. "You still plan to go?" he asked hoarsely.

  Belinda nodded. "The train leaves at two," she said matter-of-factly.

  "We haven't even
had a proper good-bye," the butler said in a tight voice.

  "Now, Windsor, what is a proper good-bye? We will say one at the door, when I'm leaving."

  "That hardly seems adequate, miss," Windsor dared to contradict her.

  "Well, any other kind would just be too painful," Belinda admitted, and Windsor nodded his head.

  "It will be painful regardless, m'lady," he told her.

  Belinda fled back upstairs to do the last-minute preparations.

  When the last item had been tucked away she drew a warm coat about her and let herself out the back door. She followed the garden paths between what had been Thomas's showy flower beds such a short time ago. Here and there a dry- looking stick acknowledged that something had lived in those beds. The snow covered all else. She was sure she would find the old gardener and his dog in the greenhouse.

  "Thomas," she called as she entered the sanctuary. "Thomas, are you here?"

  "Over here, miss," Thomas's rusty voice answered, and McIntyre came ambling from that direction to greet her.

  "'Tis a mite chilly to be out wanderin'," Thomas observed, and Belinda nodded in agreement.

  "It's colder than I realized," she admitted.

  "You'll be catchin' yer death of cold," the old gentleman worried, looking at Belinda's feet for the warm footwear she should have been wearing.

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  "I'm going right back in," she informed him.

  She let a moment of silence pass and then spoke again. "I came to say good-bye."

  The old man's head moved quickly up from the tender shoot he was grafting onto a rosebush. He said nothing, but his eyes quizzed her.

  "I'm returning home . . . as planned," she continued. "Everything is arranged here now"

  The old man still said nothing. He laid aside his twig and his tools and looked at Belinda.

  "Yer sure?" he asked at length.

  Belinda nodded, tears in her eyes. This was not going to be as easy as she had hoped.

  "Ye don't plan on being back?"

  Belinda shook her head.

  "We'll miss ye," he said simply and turned away. It was not fast enough for him to hide the tears in his own eyes. There was silence for a moment. Thomas broke it.

  "I have somethin' fer ye," he said and led Belinda to a table at the end of the greenhouse.

  Curious, Belinda followed. Thomas reached for a small container, and Belinda could see a plant protruding from the soil. He handed her the pot.

  "Mind it doesn't freeze," he cautioned.

  Belinda accepted the gift, unaware of what it was she held. " 'Tis a Princess Belinda," he said softly.

  "Your rose," whispered Belinda, and more tears came to her eyes. "Thank you, Thomas."

  He nodded and reached a hand down to McIntyre's head. "We'll miss ye," he said again.

  "And I will miss you . . . so much," responded Belinda. Thomas nodded. He seemed in a hurry to get the awkward good-bye over.

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  "Thomas," Belinda said on impulse.

  The old man lifted his head and blinked watery eyes.

  "Would you mind. . . could I give you one quick hug?"

  He moved clumsily to embrace Belinda. He held her much longer than she had anticipated and then they bid a quick farewell. Clutching her precious rose inside her coat, Belinda fled to the big house.

  The other good-byes were no easier. She longed to just turn and flee from the house, but she knew she couldn't. She probably would never see these people again. She would miss them all so much. Especially the dear staff. They had been like a family for such a long time. It was difficult to think of life without them.

  After Belinda said a hasty farewell to each of the new residents, she turned to the members of the staff. Potter blew her nose loudly on her pocket hankie, Cook let the tears run down her cheeks and then whisked them away with her apron, and Ella openly sobbed. Belinda felt she couldn't endure another minute of the emotional leave-taking. She lingered an extra moment to whisper to Mrs. Simpson, "I'm so glad you agreed to come." Then she gave Sid a hug and hurried out to the sleigh after Windsor.

  She continued to blow and sniff all the way to the station. And then she still had to say good-bye to Windsor. "I have no words to tell you how much I've appreciated you," Belinda told the stiff butler, holding out her hand to him. He only nodded as he solemnly shook her hand.

  "You've been so kind," Belinda went on.

  "I've only done my duty, m'lady," he said with difficulty, "but you served when the duty wasn't even yours."

  Belinda was puzzled at his statement.

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  "I saw the love you gave to Madam," Windsor said frankly. "A love that went far beyond duty. . . and I loved you for it."

  Belinda was touched. "You see, m'lady," and Windsor leaned forward slightly in a confidential way, "I've never told this to a living soul before, but . . . I loved her, too. Always!"

  Belinda reached up on her tiptoes and placed a quick kiss on the weathered cheek; then she turned and ran toward the waiting train.

  How beautiful, she thought as she ran, how beautiful . . and how sad. He loved her . . . all these years, and he would have died before he let her know. And just because . . . because he saw them as being from different stations in life.

  Belinda climbed aboard the train with the help of the conductor and settled herself for a good weep.

  Men can be so foolish! she cried in desperation.

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  TWENTY-FOUR

  Settling In

  The long train ride gave Belinda an opportunity to get herself under control. She needed every minute of it, she told herself. She was an emotional wreck. But as the miles ticked slowly by, she began to put things into better perspective.

  Being back in her old hometown would be good, she assured herself. . . back again with her family. There would be many adjustments to be made, she was wise enough to realize, but she was capable of adjustments. She hoped that Luke and Jackson would still need a nurse. Nursing was the only vocation she had. There was no other way that she would be able to support herself--and she certainly did not plan to go crawling home again and be dependent on her ma and pa.

  Belinda gently fingered the soft green petals of the rosebush she had carefully sheltered from the cold. Thomas had promised that it would be fine in the little pot until spring came again. Belinda intended to nurture it carefully.

  When the train did finally pull into the local station, Belinda climbed down the steps to the familiar platform. There was no one to meet her, for she had informed no one she was to be on that particular train. She made arrangements for her luggage to be held in storage until she could get someone to pick it up.

  After setting her rosebush securely in the warmth of the

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  station, she set off for Luke and Abbie's. It was midwinter, but Belinda was hardy. Still, she was thoroughly chilled by the time she rapped on Abbie's back door.

  "Belinda!" Abbie squealed and threw herself at her sisterin-law

  Belinda returned the embrace. Ruthie came running to see what the fuss was about.

  "Well, look at you!" Belinda exclaimed with a hug for her niece. "My, how you've grown."

  Ruthie, well pleased with herself, stretched up on her tiptoes to emphasize the fact of her rapid growth.

  "Come in, come in," urged Abbie. "Take off your things. How did you get here? I didn't hear a team." Her words came nonstop.

  "Well, I didn't get a ride," she said. "I left my things at the station and walked."

  "You walked? In this cold? Oh, Belinda. We'd no idea you'd be coming in or we'd have--"

  "I know," Belinda quickly replied. "It was my own doing. I didn't warn you."

  "Well, we've been hoping each day for a letter," Abbie rushed on. "The boys have hardly been able to stand it. Every day they come home from school and ask if you've sent your arrival date."

  Belinda smiled. She intended to make friends with her young nephews again.

  "How ar
e they?" she asked.

  "Fine. Fine," Abbie assured her, but Belinda detected a flickering of shadow in her eyes.

  "How are the folks?" Belinda asked simply.

  "Ma is a bit poorly," Abbie admitted before Belinda could inquire further. "Nothing serious, we hope, but Luke has put her to bed. He's out there now. . . just checking."

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  Belinda felt her body grow numb. She was unable even to voice her concern.

  "The flu, Luke thinks," Abbie rushed on. "But it has really

  taken the starch outta her. It's been a bit hard for Pa."

  "Why didn't someone let me know?" Belinda questioned. "You didn't get Luke's letter? No, I suppose not. It is likely

  still on its way. Ma just took sick last Wednesday."

  Belinda wanted to get home immediately. She was needed to nurse her mother.

  "Is there someone who could drive me out?" she asked Abbie.

  "I suppose we could get one of the fellas from the stables-- but Luke should be home any minute now. He'll take you."

  "I'd really like to get there as quickly as I can," Belinda urged and Abbie nodded.

  "Of course," she said. "I understand. I wish the boys were home. We could send one of them over to fetch a team. Well, sit down and have a cup of tea to warm yourself up."

  "I think I'll just walk over and hire a team," Belinda said, drawing her gloves back on again.

  "Oh, I hate to have you do that," moaned Abbie, wringing her hands. "I know you're anxious, but it's so cold."

  "It's really not that bad," Belinda tried to assure her. "Don't worry about me," and she gave Ruthie a hug, kissed Abbie on the cheek, and hurried back toward town and the stables.

  She was able to find a young lad to drive her out to the farm. They swung by the station, and her suitcases and trunks were loaded. The rosebush was left behind with the station agent's wife, who promised to care for it until some warmer day. Then they were on their way.