“Neither of us can say for certain what we may or may not regret, but I believe with God’s help, we will have a happy family.” He smiled broadly, hoping to lift her spirits. “I believe I should speak to your father before we say anything to the others.”
“Can I at least tell Amanda and Fanny?” Sophie touched her palm to her stomach. “I’ve been holding this secret far too long, and we’ve always been so close—like sisters.” She offered a faint smile. “No. That’s not quite correct. My sisters and I aren’t at all close. We don’t get along in the least. But I do long to confide in Fanny and Amanda. Is that so inadvisable?”
Paul couldn’t deny Sophie’s request, but he hoped her cousins wouldn’t condemn her for a reckless decision that couldn’t be changed. Fanny would lend Sophie support, but he wasn’t certain of Amanda. He’d seen evidence that the oldest of the three cousins could occasionally react in a strident manner. In Sophie’s fragile state, he doubted she could withstand condemnation or rejection by either of them.
He stood and held out his hands to help her to her feet. “If you can trust them and believe they’ll tell no one else until the time is right. I wouldn’t want any of the other relatives to get wind of this until I’ve talked to your father.”
She nodded her head. “If I ask them to maintain their silence, I know neither will say a thing.”
Uncle Jonas was sitting on the front porch with a glass of lemonade perched on the wicker table when she and Paul returned. Her uncle eyed them and waved an unlit cigar in Sophie’s direction. “I was looking for Wesley. One of the maids tells me he packed his bags and departed early this morning. What’s that all about? We made plans to meet this morning and go over some further investments.” He frowned and leaned forward. “Have you been crying? It looks like your eyes are all red and puffy.”
“She’s not feeling well,” Paul replied. “I went for a walk and happened upon her.”
Jonas grunted and pointed a thumb toward the door. “Have your aunt send Mrs. Atwell to check on you. If she thinks a doctor’s necessary, I’ll send Mr. Atwell to fetch the doctor from over in Clayton.”
“I think I’ll be fine with a little rest. There’s no need for a doctor, but thank you for your concern.” She cast a glance at Paul. “Thank you for your assistance, Paul. I don’t believe I would have made it back home without you. If the two of you will excuse me, I’m going upstairs to lie down.”
“You never answered my question. When is Wesley expected to return?”
“He’s not.”
Sophie hurried inside and fled up the stairs before her uncle could question her further. Spying Veda in the hallway, she motioned the maid close. “I’m not feeling well, Veda, and I’m going to rest. If my cousins inquire, tell them I’d rather not be disturbed.”
“You want me to fetch you something, Miss Sophie?” The maid instinctively placed a hand on Sophie’s forehead. “You’re feeling a might warm. Let me help you out of your clothes, and you crawl into bed.”
Sophie didn’t argue. She didn’t have the energy.
Once Veda had helped her undress, pulled back the covers, and plumped the pillows, Sophie settled on the crisp white linens. “Don’t forget to tell the others I don’t want to be disturbed.” The maid nodded and quietly closed the door behind her. The minute she’d departed, Sophie padded across the floor and locked the door to the hallway as well as the one leading to the adjoining room shared by her cousins. She returned to bed and welcomed the feel of the cool sheets against her skin. Though she’d not felt overly tired before coming upstairs, she soon succumbed to the weariness that silently invaded her body.
She awakened to the sound of light tapping on the adjoining door and Fanny’s hushed voice. “Are you awake, Sophie?”
She rolled to her side and was surprised to see the shadows of early evening outside the window. Had she slept the entire day? The tap sounded again, but she remained still. Though she would eventually confide in her cousins, right now she wanted only to sleep. When her mother died, she’d done the same thing. Back then her father had told her that sleeping all the time was a sign of melancholy and hopelessness. He’d been correct. At the loss of her mother, she’d felt a depth of despair that had left a void. Now, she felt as though Wesley’s departure had left another hole deep inside that would never be filled. But at least this time she had a vague inkling of hope. Not that Paul would replace Wesley, but at least her baby would have a father. She must cling to that hope, or she would once again return to that precipice.
Another tap. “Sophie? It’s nearly suppertime. May I come in?”
Apparently Fanny didn’t intend to relent. “Just a moment.” Retrieving her lightweight dressing gown from the foot of the bed, Sophie tossed it around her shoulders while crossing the short distance to the door. She opened the door a crack, and Fanny slipped through before Sophie could object.
Fanny studied her for the briefest of moments. “Your color looks good, and I must say you appear refreshed. Did you sleep well?” She plopped down on the bed. “I do hope you’ll be able to sleep tonight. Sometimes when I nap during the day, I have difficulty falling asleep at night. Of course, if you’re ill, that shouldn’t happen. Amanda said Dr. Carstead told her sleep has a genuine healing force in our lives. Isn’t that interesting?”
Sophie stared at her cousin, chattering like a magpie from the moment she stepped inside the room. Fanny wasn’t acting at all like herself. Perhaps Sophie should inquire into Fanny’s well-being. She dropped onto the bed beside her cousin. “Are you . . .” Noting the glisten of a tear, she hesitated. “Fanny, why are you crying? Has something happened while I was sleeping? Please tell me.”
Fanny wagged her head. “I’ve been so worried about you. Even though Veda said you were resting, I came upstairs several times. When the door was locked, I was so worried. Uncle Jonas said that Wesley departed and you didn’t seem to know when he might return. I was afraid that maybe you’d done something foolish.”
Sophie pulled a fresh handkerchief from the drawer of her chest and handed it to her cousin. “As you can see, I’m fit as a fiddle. There’s no need for tears. However, I have no desire to join the entire family for supper.”
“I know! I’ll ask Mrs. Atwell if I can fix our plates and bring them upstairs before she announces supper. I’ll fetch Amanda, and the three of us can eat on the upper veranda. We’ll have our own dinner party. Would you enjoy that?”
“That sounds delightful. You’re sure you wouldn’t mind being away from the rest of the family?”
Fanny hugged her close. “You know I don’t enjoy the family dinners. Someone always gets in a snit about some silly matter; then the entire family is off and arguing until Aunt Victoria clinks a spoon on her water glass and calls a halt to the bickering.”
Sophie grinned. “Would you tell Paul that you’ve spoken with me and I’m taking supper upstairs with you and Amanda? I don’t want him to worry overmuch.”
Fanny’s brows knit together in confusion. “I’ll be certain to tell him.” She glanced over her shoulder when she reached the door. “Should I inform Aunt Victoria, also?”
“Oh yes. Do tell her, as well.”
Sophie waited until she heard the click of the door latch and then fell back on the pillows. Mentioning Paul’s name rekindled memories of what had happened earlier in the day. She touched a palm to her stomach. Were it not for Paul, both she and the baby would be dead. Even now she wondered if she truly wanted to live. But Paul had been right. The child should not suffer the consequences of her misdeed.
It was a hard reality to face—to realize that the love she thought she’d found had proven false. Wesley had used—seduced—her and convinced her that they were already married, for all intents and purposes. She could still hear his voice against her ear that night.
“We’re joined forever in our hearts. Our love will never die.”
So much for forever. So much for love.
She would marry Paul and h
ave the child. Then she would decide what she wanted to do with her own life. To live or die— neither seemed all that meaningful.
You’d leave the baby motherless should you ever follow through with your earlier decision.
The thought of her baby without a mother created only a momentary pause in her deliberations. Fanny’s mother had died in childbirth, yet Fanny had become a wonderful young woman. In fact, of the three cousins, Sophie thought Fanny the most commendable. Not that Amanda didn’t have fine attributes, but she was far too bossy. Fanny was living proof that a child could be reared without a mother and still blossom into a fine adult.
And what of Paul and the sacrifice he is making? Would you leave him alone to raise your child?
She picked at the embroidered stitching that edged the pillowcase. Even though Amanda and Fanny would surely help rear her child, to leave Paul with the responsibility wouldn’t be the proper thing. On the other hand, she hadn’t forced Paul into his decision; she hadn’t even contemplated such an idea. “Paul knows I don’t love him,” she whispered into the silent room.
But do you love me? You are my creation.
A tear escaped, and she yanked a corner of the bedsheet to her eye. How could she love God or anyone else? Her heart was as cold as stone—dead to the thought of love. She knew her own determination would allow her to make a good show at being content and perhaps even happy at times. But love would never again figure into the matter.
But I am love, Sophie.
She considered this for only a moment. One of the first Bible verses she had learned told her this. She couldn’t remember the entire verse from First John, but she knew the part that said God is love.
If that was true and love really existed because of God, then why could it not exist for her?
Before she could further contemplate the thought-provoking question, her cousins burst into the room carrying trays that appeared to contain a feast for ten rather than for only three. Veda followed on their heels carrying a pitcher of lemonade and glasses. After moving the wicker table and chairs into a shady spot on the upper balcony, little time was needed to arrange their feast. Veda removed the covers from atop their plates and poured lemonade into the glasses before scurrying back inside.
Sophie had taken only a few bites of her fruit salad when she noticed Amanda watching her every move. “Are you going to eat or merely watch me?” she finally inquired.
“I want to know exactly what is going on with you. Fanny and I agree that you’ve not been yourself of late. Even before we came to the island, you were more interested in keeping to yourself than usual.”
“And sleeping,” Fanny added. “Now that Wesley has left with no explanation . . . well, we’re worried about you.”
Amanda swallowed a sip of lemonade. “Precisely! We’ve always confided in one another, yet Fanny tells me you’ve said nothing to her—and I know you’ve revealed nothing to me. Have you and Wesley had a spat of major proportions?”
“Wesley is no longer a part of my life. That’s an absolute certainty.”
“But why? Was it because of the family? I don’t know how any stranger can endure all the bickering that occurs when we’re together.” Amanda forked a piece of parsleyed potato and popped it into her mouth.
“No. He made no mention of the family.” She stared at her plate and wondered if the words would catch in her throat. “The fact is, I’m pregnant with Wesley’s child.”
Amanda’s fork clattered onto her plate. Her eyes wide with disbelief, she stared at Sophie as though she’d suddenly encountered a stranger. But Fanny immediately grasped her hand. “Whatever are you going to do, Sophie?”
“I plan to marry Paul.”
“What?” Amanda and Fanny shouted the question in unison.
“You don’t even like Paul. What happened between you and Wesley?” Amanda asked, pushing her plate aside.
“When I told him I had conceived a child, he said he wanted no part of me, though I suspect it had more to do with money than the child.”
“Whatever are you talking about?” Fanny reached over and touched Sophie’s forehead. “Are you running a fever?”
“I’m perfectly well, but the two of you must promise you will not reveal any of this.”
Once she’d obtained her cousins’ agreement, Sophie related the contents of Wesley’s comments, his brief note, and hasty departure. “Not only did he not want the child, but he thought I was in line to receive a large inheritance. When I explained the provisions of Grandfather’s will, he decided I was a liar.” Sophie watched her cousins, gauging their reaction. “I never once gave him any reason to believe I would ever become an heiress.”
“I wonder if he made that assumption based on conversations he’d heard about Fanny’s inheritance. I recall conversations when mother and Lady Illiff were discussing Grandfather’s will and the family inheritance.” Amanda tapped her finger on her chin. “Wesley was present on at least one occasion. Do you suppose he simply assumed you would inherit?”
Sophie shrugged. “I’ll never know, but Paul knows about the baby and has asked me to marry him. I agreed, but we want everyone to believe the child is his. Promise you’ll never tell.”
Fanny frowned. “Do you truly believe this is the best way?”
“Given time, the three of us might be able to arrive at a better solution,” Amanda said.
“But I don’t have time. The baby is due in December. Paul is a good man, and even if I don’t love him, he loves me, and I know he’ll be a good father to the child.”
“I suppose that much is true.” Fanny didn’t sound convinced but agreed to keep Sophie’s secret. “Does your father know?”
“No. Paul went to Clayton to wire him that he needed to come to the island.” Sophie tapped Amanda’s hand. “You haven’t yet given me your word.”
Amanda nodded. “I do wish we had time to arrive at another solution, but given the circumstances, it appears marriage to Paul is your only choice. There will be some social stigma for a while, but you’re a Broadmoor, and Paul’s family is well received in New York City. Society will quickly forgive and forget.”
Later that night while Sophie pondered Amanda’s response, she realized it wasn’t society’s forgiveness she needed or desired. God alone had the power to forgive her.
“But why should you, God? I don’t deserve it. Everyone tried to warn me that I was being foolish. I knew it was wrong to fall into such temptation with Wesley, yet I allowed it to happen. Why should you care about me now—after my defiance? Why should you love me, when I cannot love anyone in return?” Tears trickled down Sophie’s face.
Suddenly another verse from First John floated through her mind. He that loveth not knoweth not God; for God is love. That was the Scripture in its fullest part. No wonder she had put aside remembering the first portion. The realization was hard to accept.
“I don’t know you.”
The emptiness of that truth threatened to completely overcome her. She felt as if she were standing back on that cliff, ready to jump to her death. The isolation and separation she felt were more than she could bear.
She dropped to her knees and sobbed. “God, I cannot bear this alone. I have chosen the wrong way. I have gone against everything I’ve known to be good and true.” She buried her face in her hands. How could God forgive her and love her when she couldn’t forgive herself and no longer believed that human love was even possible?
From deep within her memory another portion of Scripture came to mind. Herein is love, not that we loved God, but that he loved us, and sent his Son to be a propitiation for our sins.
“What’s a pro . . . pish . . . pishiation?” she had asked her father as a little girl.
She could still see his smile as he pulled her onto his lap. “It means that when you give your life to Jesus, the slate is wiped clean. Jesus takes the blame, and God is appeased through His Son’s death on the cross.”
“But why does anyone have to die?” Sophi
e had asked in her little-girl innocence.
“Because unless we die to sin, we cannot hope to live for God.”
The words pierced her heart as nothing else could. She had thought earlier that death was her only hope, and now, in a sense, she could see that she was right. Only this time it was death to herself and to sin. Death to a way of life that held no hope or meaning. Death to that which would forever separate her from God’s love—the only true love that would last for all eternity.
20
Thursday, June 9, 1898
Two days later, Mr. Atwell maneuvered the DaisyBee into a slip not far from the Clayton depot. Once he’d cut the motor, Paul stepped up out of the boat and onto the dock. The older man motioned to him, and Paul waited until Mr. Atwell made his way to the front of the boat.
“Just wanted to tell you I may not be back here by the time the train arrives,” Mr. Atwell started, “but I’ll do my best. The missus gave me a list for the grocer as well as the meat cutter, and I need to stop and see Mr. Hungerford at the plumbing shop.”
“No hurry. If you’re not back when Mr. Broadmoor arrives, we’ll go over to the Hub Café and have a cup of coffee.” Having time to speak with Quincy prior to arriving at the island might be best anyway, Paul decided.
Mr. Atwell tipped his cap. “Good enough. If you’re not at the dock, I’ll look for you at the café.”
Paul wandered to one of the benches outside the Clayton train depot and dropped onto the hard surface. Burying his face in his hands, he wrestled with his thoughts. A part of him wanted to go after Wesley Hedrick and . . . and . . . what? What would he say or do if he came face-to-face with the man? Paul had never been given to violence, and he certainly didn’t want to talk Wesley into going back to make things right with Sophie.
The train whistle howled in the distance, and Paul uttered a prayer that God would give him the exact words he should speak to Quincy. How could he hope to explain to his mentor and friend that he would rather risk his reputation and marry a pregnant woman who didn’t love him than live his life without Sophie? Quincy was a man of reason, but he might very well mean to see Sophie sent away to protect the family name. It seemed more likely that this would be the attitude of Jonas Broadmoor rather than Quincy, but one could never tell what the stress of such news might cause a person to do.
An Unexpected Love Page 23
