An Unlikely Mother

by Danica Favorite

  He looked at her with his big, brown eyes, and the way he spoke, in faltering English—could he be any more lovable?

  And he was right. She shouldn’t be listening at doors. If she wanted to know what George’s plans were, she should just ask. But that meant talking to him. They hadn’t spoken since Flora had asked him to maintain his distance. Which he had.

  Was it wrong to miss their easy conversations? To have someone with whom she could discuss the tumultuous feelings at the changes in her circumstances? People who hadn’t deigned to look her way in months were now coming to tea, and she owed it all to the impending arrival of the Bellingham heir. Him. Only not.

  Flora opened the door and they entered the hallway. She tried pasting a smile on her face, but she knew George would see right through it.

  “George!” Pierre brushed past her to greet the man who spent way too much time occupying her thoughts.

  “Pierre!” George wrapped the little boy in his arms as he always did.

  “George play wiv Pierre?” The little boy looked up hopefully at George, and Flora found her heart breaking just a little bit more.

  Of course George would play with Pierre. It wasn’t in his nature to refuse the child anything, and the open love between the two created a longing in Flora that made it almost impossible to breathe.

  Why couldn’t George have trusted her? Flora shook her head. For as many times as this thought went round and round in her mind, she was no closer to answers than she’d been when she’d asked him that question. Besides, the more she thought about it, the more she realized that, at the very core, it wasn’t so much about trust as it was about the depth of their feelings for each other. Flora had cared for George enough to share all of her secrets, but George...

  Taking a deep breath, Flora willed herself not to let the tears form.

  “George will play with Pierre,” George said slowly, making his words clear for the boy to understand. Then he turned to Marie. “How do you let him know that I’ll be joining you two today?”

  As Marie bent and spoke to Pierre, Flora tried not to resent the way George had come to rely on her instead of Flora. After all, that’s what she wanted, wasn’t it? She’d asked to communicate only when it was absolutely necessary in regard to Pierre. And now that Marie could help him translate, Flora wasn’t necessary.

  Shifting awkwardly as he stared at his feet, George looked just as uncomfortable in Flora’s presence as she was in his. But it was his own fault, considering it was his misrepresentation of the truth that had gotten them there.

  Pierre turned to George. “You...” Looking as though he was trying to find the right word, he glanced at Flora. “Viens?”

  “Come,” Flora said.

  With a smile, Pierre said the entire phrase. “You come? George come?”

  “George come,” George confirmed, picking the little boy up and tickling him.

  Pierre giggled, and Flora couldn’t help but admire the way George connected with the child. Though Pierre could never be difficult to love, it was hard to have her heart torn every time Flora saw him with George.

  “And now we must finish preparing for our tea. Then you can go with George and Marie, all right, Pierre?”

  As if her mother understood the pull on Flora’s heart, Flora heard her mother call her name.

  “We must go,” she told Pierre in French, taking his hand. “You’ll be back with them again soon.”

  She felt George’s eyes on her as they turned to go back downstairs. Part of her wanted to hear him call to her, to offer some kind of pleasantry or at least give an indication that he was just as miserable as she. But, she supposed, that was foolish thinking, considering none of it was possible.

  * * *

  The distance between them became even more excruciating the longer George and Flora didn’t talk.

  Every time George summoned the courage to say something to Flora, her mother found a way to interrupt. Either Mrs. Montgomery hadn’t been let in on George’s secret, or she thought that a Bellingham in reduced circumstances wasn’t a good fit for her daughter. Rightly so, considering George didn’t know how all this was going to end or how he could offer for Flora in an honorable way.

  But there was the other reason he hesitated in pursuing Flora. From his vantage point in the kitchen, he could see her smile as she warmly greeted each of her guests. This was Flora Montgomery in her element. She’d seemed happy enough at the camp, spending time with Pierre, caring for him, but George had also seen the longing in her eyes. Flora wanted more. And here, wearing a silk gown, the likes of which he’d likely never be able to afford, she sparkled and shone brighter than the jewels adorning all the women in the room.

  Flora’s melodic laugh filled George’s ears, and though it made him happy to hear the sound, he could only feel dismay that he’d never hear it directed at him again.

  The trouble with wanting to offer for a woman in an honorable way was that there was nothing honorable about taking a woman from a life she loved and forcing her to live a life that didn’t suit her. Sometimes he asked God why He’d put a woman like Flora in his life when He knew it wasn’t meant to be. But God never answered, and George just had to trust that God had a plan in all of this, somehow. He couldn’t imagine meeting someone better than Flora, but he also didn’t have the imagination God had. To find someone with the gentility, kindness and earnest desire to be a more Godly woman that Flora had, but who would also be willing to live the adventure of a life that had no certain provision, would be one incredible task, indeed.

  “It is not good to moon over what you cannot have,” Marie said, coming up behind him. “She is like the beautiful flowers of my country. The cherry blossoms, the peonies, the lilies. But they cannot live here in the mountains. The weather, it is too harsh, too difficult. They will die. Even if your flower would be permitted to marry beneath her, you would pluck her from a delicate garden and throw her out in the harsh elements.”

  George turned and looked at her. Though Marie didn’t have all the facts in the situation, she was right. Flora was a flower who belonged in the garden of society, a place where she thrived. He couldn’t ask her to come to the mine with him and wither.

  When George was a child, his mother used to tell him that even though he loved the flowers he found on their walks, the best way to show his love was to leave them growing in their places so that everyone could enjoy their beauty.

  Flora laughed again, and as the other ladies joined in, it only served to confirm George’s resolve to keep his distance. Yes, she hated him, and as much as he’d like to make things right with her, it was better this way. Better to keep the longing hidden and under wraps where no one knew how much his heart was breaking.

  He smiled at Marie. “Do you think we can take Pierre now? I hate to interrupt if they’re having fun, but I haven’t had much time to spend with him lately.”

  Marie looked at him as though she didn’t believe him at all. “I do not understand you people and your fascination with this child. Someday, you will have a boy of your own, and you will not need Pierre. And then what? Will you toss him in the streets like the fine dresses Miss Flora considers rags because they are no longer fashionable?”

  “We’re talking about a boy, not a dress.” George glared at the woman. “I’m surprised at you for thinking so little of her. She’s a good woman and does not deserve your criticism.”

  With a shrug, Marie said, “Maybe not. But you do not know her like I do. You have not spent time catering to her whims that change faster than the weather. What will happen to this poor boy when she tires of him?”

  “You have obviously not spent time talking to her, seeing how she’s grown as a person. Her dedication to Pierre is inspiring. She truly loves him. As for me, if I am to be so blessed with a boy of my own, he will be no more dear to me than Pierre, and I
hope that they will be friends.”

  “You would take him from his father?”

  George shook his head. “I would hope that his father and I could become friends, and that he would allow me to always remain a part of his life.”

  Then George took a deep breath and looked at Marie with what he hoped to be sincerity. It was hard to say, considering the woman was constantly questioning him and his motives.

  “Which is why I wanted to come with you today. Though I always hope to be part of Pierre’s life, the boy needs his father. I hope your father can help me find him. I want what’s best for Pierre.”

  “Even if it means returning him to his father?” Marie looked doubtful.

  “I recently lost my father,” George said. “I know the pain of not having a father you dearly love to confide in and share your life with.”

  Though the pangs of loss were coming less frequently now, particularly with how busy George was in looking into the explosion at the mine and looking for Pierre’s father, there were moments when he ached at the loss of the man he’d so admired and looked up to. His father could always be counted on for his sage advice, and George would have loved to have been able to sit down with him and go over all of these troubling situations to find wisdom.

  “And I know the pain of having someone take you in because they have no children and you have no parents, but to then be discarded when their own children come along,” Marie said. “My mother still speaks of the hurt she suffered when it happened to her. You mean well, I know this. But do not toy with a child’s heart. What happens if you do not find Pierre’s father? Will you care for him forever?”

  The pain written in the woman’s eyes made her arguments against Flora make sense. They were less about Flora and her character and more about the heartache Marie’s mother had suffered.

  “I will do whatever is necessary for Pierre. Return him to his father, or adopt him as my own son. There is nothing I won’t do for him.”

  George gave the woman a gentle smile. “I am sorry for the way your mother was treated. I can’t imagine how much it must hurt to have been abandoned by someone you thought loved you. But I am not those people, and neither is Flora.”

  With a sigh, George realized just how little credit he’d given her by not confiding in her. He hadn’t examined the true depth of her character and the strength of her heart. Though he had no idea how he would have done things differently, he wished he’d found a way to more carefully consider Flora and her feelings.

  “Thank you for that,” Flora said quietly, entering the kitchen with Pierre in tow. “I appreciate that you do not find me completely lacking in human decency.”

  “I don’t find you lacking at all,” George said, turning to her. “In fact, Marie’s concerns over our intentions toward Pierre only serve to remind me just how greatly I wronged you by keeping the truth from you. We think we know a person, what they would say, what they would do, but we often make decisions for them based on what we think will happen rather than letting that person choose. I chose for you, Flora, and I apologize.”

  As the words came out of his mouth, he knew that her ability to keep his secret wasn’t the only decision he’d made for her. Could he say for certain how she’d react to the only kind of life he could give her?

  “I accept your apology,” she said. Then she turned to Pierre and bent to speak to him in French. Once she was finished, she brought her attention back to George again.

  “He’s all yours. I hope you both have a wonderful time.”

  Flora turned to walk back into the parlor.

  “Please wait,” George said, hoping they weren’t going back to her cold treatment of him.

  “Is there something else you needed?”

  “Do you think we could talk about...things...later?”

  She stared at him like he’d just spoken in fluent French. “What do we have to talk about? Pierre seems to be doing just fine, and if it doesn’t have anything to do with his care, I believe I’ve made myself quite clear that I have nothing further to say to you.”

  Giving him one of the fake pleasant smiles he’d come to despise, Flora turned and walked away. When she reentered the parlor, George heard the murmur of voices, then Flora’s sweet twitter of laughter. Only now it didn’t seem so sweet.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Flora, I declare that miner hanging about is a disgrace,” Sarah said, fanning herself to hide what was probably a smirk. The other girl was only here because she wanted to hear the gossip about George Bellingham’s coming visit. But having a miner around was probably just as juicy of a tidbit for Sarah.

  “Not at all,” Flora said with a forced smile as she poured another cup of tea. “Father quite depends on him, and he’s rather good with Pierre. It would be a disgrace to send away a man who is so important to our family.”

  “I knew it! You do have an understanding with him.” Sarah smiled broadly.

  “If by understanding, you mean that Mr. Baxter knows that there can never be anything romantic between us, then, yes, we do have an understanding.”

  “Indeed,” Flora’s mother said, straightening. “Surely you know by now that the Bellinghams are an important family connection, and with George Bellingham coming to stay with us, we have high hopes that the connection will be strengthened.”

  Flora stared at her mother. Was it possible that she honestly didn’t know who George was? As her mother went on and on about how the Montgomerys were committed to renewing ties with the Bellinghams after their friendship had been so tragically lost all those years ago, Flora could hardly put a coherent thought together. Why hadn’t her father told his wife the truth about the man they harbored under their roof?

  However, as Flora continued listening to her mother tell the others about how, when their children were in infancy, she and Mrs. Bellingham would dream about the day their children might someday form an alliance, Flora became more convinced that her mother had no idea who George was.

  If her mother knew the truth, she’d have accepted George and made him feel welcome. She wouldn’t have encouraged Flora to make sure he understood that she could never marry a man like him. Her mother wouldn’t have gleefully been able to tell everyone about how George Bellingham was coming to stay with them and how excited she was to see how the little boy she’d had such fondness for had grown up.

  Flora closed her eyes. Her mother would have had to lie to all these women. Just as Flora was doing now. Playing along with a farce because that’s what was required of her.

  “Are you all right?” Sarah asked, turning her fan to Flora.

  “Quite,” Flora said, pasting on a smile. “I’d forgotten just how close our families once were.”

  “True, true,” her mother said. “Do you know that Flora is the reason some people called poor George Pudgy as a child?”

  “Mother, I’m certain he wouldn’t appreciate that story. I’m sure he’s changed.” Flora wished she could run away from all this reminiscing and the reminder of her unkind past.

  “Indeed. I heard he’s quite handsome now,” her mother said with a smile.

  One of the other ladies leaned in closer to Flora’s mother. “I heard the very same thing. He has quite the reputation for being a ladies’ man at Harvard.”

  The chatter around her all turned to speculation about the kind of man George Bellingham had grown up to be. The old Flora would have told them all. He was handsome, far more than even their wildest imaginings could have come up with. None of them would have understood how his eyes shone in such a way that made a woman want to forget herself. Or how he listened and made her feel like what she had to say was important. Or even how he was willing to give his heart to a little boy who’d lost his father.

  George Bellingham was far more man than the ladies in the room gave him credit for, but Fl
ora was powerless to say so. All she could do was murmur noncommittally and pretend she didn’t have this secret welling up inside her.

  Sarah leaned in to Flora and whispered, “Are you going to let him court you?”

  No. She’d already rejected him soundly. Though part of her continued to question whether or not it was the right thing to do. Not because he was George Bellingham, from a proper family, but because, as the women in the room extolled all the virtues of what a man ought to be, Flora couldn’t deny George had all those qualities and more. But what did any of those things mean when the man himself didn’t believe her worthy of his trust?

  “I don’t know,” Flora said, giving the other girl an honest answer.

  “Well, make up your mind quickly. If you don’t want him, then I’ll have Mother invite him to supper.”

  Because that’s all an eligible bachelor was to any of them. A potential husband. A commodity to be traded like a favorite recipe.

  “You’re welcome to do so,” Flora said with a smile. “I’m sure the gentleman is more than capable of choosing what he wants.”

  Besides, she was fairly certain the gentleman in question would have nothing to do with Sarah, no matter how many machinations she tried.

  Sarah seemed pleased with the answer, because the other girl sat back in her chair, practically preening at her victory. But what was won, exactly? And why did Flora feel so much discontent at a conversation that should have made her wildly happy? After all, this was what her previous friendship with Sarah had been like. Giggling over eligible bachelors and deciding who got to pursue whom.

  As much as Flora once thought the idea appealing, suddenly it didn’t seem so attractive, after all.

  “Has anyone had word of Ellen? Is her condition improving?” Flora asked, interrupting the flow of conversation. But she simply couldn’t waste any more of her energy speculating on a gentleman that Flora already knew more about than she should. Surely there were more important things to discuss.

  Sarah gave her an odd look. “No, I don’t believe we have. I’m surprised. Why would you give that any thought?”