An Unlikely Mother

by Danica Favorite

  George nodded. “Of course.”

  Giving Pierre a little squeeze, he said, “D’accord.” Another phrase he’d learned from Flora to let Pierre know that what he wanted was all right. “We go to Flora.”

  Pierre looked doubtful, but George smiled and squeezed the boy again. “Je t’aime, Pierre. D’accord.”

  Finally smiling as he heard George’s reassurance that he loved him and it would be all right to go back to Flora, Pierre snuggled up to him again. “Je t’aime, George.”

  “He loves you,” Jean-Paul said. “Pierre is afraid that you are hurt that he still misses his father and wishes for his safe return. He does not understand how it is possible to love both you and his father, and also to love Flora and his late mother.”

  George took a deep breath. How did you tell a little boy that you felt the same way? That despite everything that told him that giving his heart to both Flora and this child was a bad idea, he simply couldn’t help himself?

  “Tell Pierre that I understand. And that because I love him, I want the same thing. I am trying to reunite him with his father, and no matter what happens, I will always love him and be there for him. Tell him that the heart...”

  George thought about a recent discussion with Pastor Lassiter. Perhaps the concept was too adult for a child, but it was the only thing George knew to say. “The heart has an immeasurable capacity for love, and the more we love, the more we are able to love. It’s big enough to love your mother, your father, Flora, me and whoever else comes along, without taking from anyone else.”

  The older man’s eyes filled with tears as he bent to translate for Pierre. As the little boy processed the words, he squeezed George tighter.

  Maybe George had conveyed something too hard for most people to understand, but whatever Jean-Paul had told Pierre, it made sense.

  “You are a good man, George,” Crazy Eddie said, as Jean-Paul spoke softly to Pierre. “I cannot, in good conscience, take you to the terrible place where Herman Schmidt is, but I will bring him to you. Where are you staying?”

  George took a deep breath, hating that saying where he was staying would make Crazy Eddie even more suspicious of his identity.

  “I’m staying at the Montgomery home. Mr. Montgomery has hired me to help him sort out the situation at the mine, so he likes to keep me close in case he needs me.”

  Crazy Eddie raised his eyebrows, as if this information did, in fact, diminish George’s credibility.

  “I sleep in the barn,” George said. “But I know both Mr. Montgomery and Flora will also be interested in what Herman has to say, so bring him to the house.”

  As Crazy Eddie nodded knowingly, George was glad for the temporary discomfort of sleeping in straw as opposed to a feather mattress. Besides, with the financial disaster they were uncovering as they dug deeper into the mine’s paperwork, it was becoming more evident that a straw mattress was likely to be the best George could hope for.

  “I will come to the back door. The likes of us are not fit for the Montgomery parlor.”

  George wanted to argue, but the man was probably right. Given that Agnes still glowered at him every time he was in the house, George couldn’t see the housekeeper greeting with open arms a man who probably hadn’t bathed in years.

  “All right, then. I’ll see you soon.” George looked down at Pierre, who’d finished his conversation with Jean-Paul. “Are you ready to go?”

  Pierre nodded.

  As George turned to leave, Jean-Paul touched his free shoulder. “We pride ourselves on taking care of our own. But I have no doubt that Pierre is in the very best care. Please don’t be a stranger, and bring him back often.”

  “I will,” George said, smiling at the man. “Thank you for your help.”

  Jean-Paul nodded, and George quickly said goodbye to Marie. Though he’d meant it when he said that he wanted nothing more than to reunite Pierre with his father, George couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness that everything was going to change soon. He hoped. Maybe.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Flora peered through the curtains for the tenth time since their guests had left. Why hadn’t George returned yet with Pierre?

  “Stop mooning,” her mother said, coming into the room and taking a seat in her favorite chair. “You act like you’re waiting for a suitor. Come, sit. We’ve embroidery to do. Mrs. Bellingham always admired the things I made. I understand she’s recovering from a terrible accident, and I think it would be a lovely gesture to make her a pillow with a nice Psalm. I don’t know if your father told you or not, but Honoria and I used to be close friends.”

  Flora turned to her mother, who looked wistful. “What happened to divide the families? I only remember them vaguely.”

  “George? You don’t remember George?”

  With a pang, Flora thought about what she remembered of George in their childhood. As a boy, he’d been overweight, and she and the other children had teased him mercilessly about it.

  “I wasn’t very kind to him,” Flora said slowly. “I know you have high hopes, but I can’t imagine him having fond memories of me.”

  “Nonsense. You were children. All children tease each other. George used to pull your curls and make you cry.”

  “And you want me to marry him?” Flora glanced out the window again.

  “I must insist that you sit down,” her mother said. “Not only is it unseemly for a young lady to moon about, but you keep watching for that miner. You cannot think that your father and I would condone such a match.”

  If only her mother knew that the miner she mooned over was her precious George Bellingham. It was on the tip of her tongue to say just so, but a twinge in her heart reminded her that was exactly why George and her father had been hesitant to tell her the truth. Her mother would fawn over the poor man, and there was no way anyone in society would believe that George was a mere miner.

  “And what would be so wrong about my marrying a miner?” Flora went over to one of the chairs opposite her mother and sat. A small concession to her mother’s wishes. But right now, after having endured an afternoon of society snobbery, Flora wasn’t sure this was the life she wanted anymore.

  “Please tell me you’re not serious!” Her mother dropped the piece she’d been working on and stared at Flora. “I will not tolerate such nonsense from you.”

  “But why?” Flora stared at her. “Father says he came from humble beginnings. What would be wrong with me finding an honorable man like him?”

  “Because I did not sacrifice all those early years so that my daughter would have to do the same. Can you honestly tell me that you enjoyed living in a hovel with a dirt floor and leaky roof?”

  Flora shook her head. “No. I hope to never do such a thing again,” she said quietly. “But I’ve been trying to improve my character with everyone’s encouragement, and it seems to me we have a double standard. Can you honestly say that everyone in the so-called good families you’re encouraging me to associate with has the kind of character you wish me to emulate?”

  Her mother stared at her like she’d gone insane.

  “What is good character, Mother? Simply because they come from a good family and people show respect to them, that doesn’t mean they’re good people. And I’ve learned that, above all, I wish to be a good person, the kind of person God will smile upon instead of shake his head in disappointment at. I am not superior to others simply because of my father’s wealth. Even though I have spent most of my life acting like it.”

  The truth of Flora’s words made her heart twist, forcing her to take a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Mother. But I find that I cannot abide society’s standards of behavior when they don’t always match up with God’s. I would rather be known for my kindness and my good heart than to have all the ladies in town emulate my fashions.”

 
Her mother looked as though she’d just been doused with a vat of ice-cold water.

  Before either woman could speak, her father entered the room and sat in the chair beside her mother.

  “Anna, I hope you’re as proud of Flora as I am.”

  “But, John...” Tears fell down her mother’s cheeks.

  “No.” He shook his head. “We had it all wrong.”

  “She doesn’t know how hard it was.” Flora’s mother looked at her, her face filled with despair. “I spent my whole life dreaming of being a fine lady, of my daughter being a fine lady, and here we are. And now she wants to throw it all away for a miner?”

  “Would you rather she be like Mrs. Fischer—or like Mrs. Cornelius?”

  Her mother’s face went white. Her father turned his gaze on Flora. “Before your mother and I married, she worked as a lady’s maid to a woman named Mrs. Fischer. Mrs. Fischer was a cruel woman with a nasty temper, and she made your mother’s life miserable. Then she went to work for a lady named Mrs. Cornelius, who was a kind woman, devoted to caring for others and promoting Christian charity. We used to promise each other that when we became wealthy, we’d be more like the Corneliuses and less like the Fischers.”

  Then he turned to his wife. “I’m sorry, my darling. But somewhere along the line, we lost sight of our promise.”

  Her mother began openly sobbing. “I’m going to go rest. I have a headache coming on.”

  “Can I bring you anything?” Flora asked.

  “I think you’ve done enough.” Her mother flounced out of the room.

  Flora sighed. “Father, I—”

  “Don’t apologize. The past few weeks, I’ve been forced to confront the man I’ve become and my own snobbery.” He let out a long sigh. “The truth is, I should have done more to repair my relationship with Elias. I should not have forgotten the example the Corneliuses gave me. The only reason I had money to stake my first claim is because when Mr. Cornelius died, he divided his estate between all of his employees. Your mother believed in my dreams, and she told me to use the money to pursue them. I did, and we always said that we’d use our money in the same way.”

  Then he gestured around the room. “And look at us. The finest money can buy and, until recently, the most selfish, spoiled daughter in town because of it.”

  His description of her stung, but it was true.

  He leaned forward and took her hand. “Flora, I’m sorry for not being a better example to you. I’m sorry for indulging all of your whims and making you think that material things were more important than the kind of person you are.” Tears filled his eyes as he squeezed her hand. “Can you forgive me?”

  Flora came forward and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tight. “Of course I forgive you. I’m sorry for being so selfish. I hate how I’ve treated others, and I’m trying desperately to make it right. But I’m finding that people don’t want me to make it right. They just want me to be a nicer version of who I used to be, and I simply can’t. I’m not that person at all.”

  “No, you’re not,” he said, smiling at her. “You are an incredible young lady, and I feel privileged to call you my daughter. In spite of all my mistakes, I am so pleased to see who you’ve become.”

  Flora smiled back as she pulled away and returned to her chair. “Oh, I’m fairly certain I made my own share of them.”

  Then his expression grew serious. “Now, tell me. Do you care for George?”

  Flora sighed and looked toward the window again. “Sometimes I think I do, but then I think about how he deceived me, and I get so angry. Why didn’t he have the faith in me that I had in him?”

  She swallowed the emotions that unexpectedly welled up.

  “Can you see that he did what he thought was best? That he meant you no harm?”

  “I’ve tried.” She shook her head and then looked at him. “Why haven’t you told Mother?”

  “The same reason George didn’t want to tell you,” he said. “Can you imagine her reaction if she knew? She would be fawning all over him, and we would lose our element of surprise. I’ve got telegrams by the dozen from Bellingham family advisors, telling me things that don’t line up with what George says, with what we’re finding at the mine. I believe that someone very closely connected to the family is behind all of this, but we don’t yet have evidence proving it. George is going to be the key to unlocking it, but we can’t reveal that key until the right time. Until we have all the pieces, we need to keep his identity a secret.”

  All things she’d heard before. Flora took a deep breath. “Perhaps you shouldn’t underestimate Mother. After all, I know the truth and I haven’t revealed it, not even to Mother, who is horrified that I might have developed a tendre for a miner.”

  Her father nodded slowly. “And we’re back to the topic I most wish to discuss. He’s an honorable man. I would have no objection to a match between the two of you. I can’t think of any man I would be more pleased to see you marry.”

  Flora looked out the window again. “It’s not that simple. It’s hard to say what’s between us. None of it has been based on truth. I’ve spent so much time fighting what I thought was an impossibility. I don’t know what to think or believe anymore. I’m not certain I can trust my heart.”

  “I see,” her father said. “I will be praying for you to find clarity. And I hope that, as you seek to prove that you have changed, you are willing to offer the same forgiveness to others that you wish they would give you.”

  Flora closed her eyes. He had a point. If she couldn’t forgive George for his deception, how was she supposed to expect others to forgive her?

  He leaned forward and squeezed her hand. “They’re not easy, matters of the heart. And I know there is more for you to sort out besides forgiving him. But I hope you know that, in the end, it’s worth it.”

  She opened her eyes and smiled at him.

  “And now I have my own matters of the heart to work out,” he said. “You’re right that I did not give your mother enough credit. She’s a good woman, and I love her dearly. Be gentle with her during this time. As hard as the changes in your life have been on you, I believe your mother is in for similar difficulties.”

  Flora smiled at him. “Then go to her. And I’ll be here, supporting her as she has supported me through what I imagine must have been difficult times for her.”

  They both stood, and her father hugged her tight. “Even in the worst moments, we have always loved you with all of our hearts. No matter how trying you’ve been, your mother’s love has never wavered.”

  “I know.”

  As her father released her, Flora spotted George standing in the doorway.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. I can come back.”

  “No need.” Her father waved him off. “Come, sit. Tell us how the party went. Did you meet anyone who knew Pierre’s father?”

  “I did.”

  Flora listened as George relayed what he’d found out at the party. It was hard to hold on to her anger at him as she watched the emotions play on his face. How could she not care for a man who loved a little boy like Pierre so deeply?

  “Where is Pierre?” Flora asked, as George explained how Pierre was feeling sad over missing his parents.

  George made a noise in the back of his throat. “Agnes took one look at him, declared him filthy and is giving him a good scrubbing.”

  Flora turned to her father. “Sometimes I think Agnes needs to learn a little about what we’ve been discussing.”

  He laughed. “She’s pretty set in her ways, but if anyone can convince her to see things differently, it’s you.”

  Then her father turned to George. “Let me know when this Crazy Eddie fellow arrives. I’d like to hear what he and Herman Schmidt have to say. I’m going to go talk to my wife. Flora very graciously reminde
d me that I’ve been remiss in how I’ve treated her.”

  Hesitantly, he added, “I know I said I would keep your confidence. However, I cannot continue deceiving my wife. I hope this doesn’t make things difficult for you, but trust is the bedrock of any relationship. Anna deserves better from me.”

  * * *

  George was shamed by the older man’s words. Though they were not meant as an insult to him, he couldn’t help but be reminded of how his relationship with Flora had been harmed by the lack of trust.

  “Of course,” George said. “It was wrong of me to make you feel as though you needed to keep your wife in the dark, just as it was wrong of me not to tell Flora the truth.”

  “I was party to that decision,” John said, looking at Flora. “George did not choose to keep you, or your mother, in the dark on his own.”

  The words were meant for the woman who still looked at George like she didn’t know what to believe. For whatever reason, John had decided to take up George’s cause. And for that, George was grateful. Even though Flora’s acquiescent nod was still filled with doubt and mistrust.

  “Thank you, sir,” George said. “If there’s anything I can do to smooth things over with your wife, I will do my best.”

  John gave a wry smile as he returned his attention to George. “I expect that there will be a large party once your identity is known. Be a sport about it, and if she wishes for you to escort Flora—” John looked back at his daughter, then to George again “—you will both be delighted to entertain her whim.”

  “Done,” George said.

  Flora laughed. “I will even let her choose my dress.”

  John joined in her laughter, and George could see the resemblance between father and daughter.

  “I’m sure it will be a great hardship. Try not to suffer too much.” John winked, then turned to George. “I pity the man who will eventually pay her dressmaker’s bill.”

  It was supposed to be a joke, but George couldn’t help but feel inadequate at the words. At this rate, he wouldn’t be able to buy Flora one dress, let alone a whole wardrobe. Perhaps when he got a few moments alone with John, he’d make it clear that his entire financial picture looked as dire as that of the mine.