A Hearth in Candlewood

by Delia Parr

  She went out to the porch and tiptoed around the droppings to retrieve the hat. When she picked it up and turned it over, she found a paper wedged inside. It appeared to be some sort of correspondence, but it was badly smeared and stained, as if it had been dropped into a mud puddle. Her eyes widened when she recalled James Leonard’s tale of tossing Mr. Langhorne out and the man dropping both his spectacles and his hat in the mud.

  She hesitated but decided any man who would threaten to sue two elderly women like Mother Garrett and Aunt Frances did not deserve privacy. ‘‘Besides, it’s on my porch, and he told me to put his hat in the trash pit, which means the letter is trash, as well,’’ she rationalized.

  She set the hat on the railing and attempted to make sense of the few legible words the letter contained. The phrases ‘‘expected to ship’’ and ‘‘in prime condition,’’ along with a signature, ‘‘David Barkley, Proprietor,’’ indicated the correspondence was some sort of reply to an order Mr. Langhorne had placed or was considering placing.

  ‘‘Maybe the man ordered a new pair of spectacles, ones that won’t keep falling off his face,’’ she said and shoved the paper into his hat. Since he had said not to bother returning the hat, she set it upside down on one of the porch chairs. If there was any justice at all, that chicken would decide the hat made for an attractive nesting place—just once before the hat found its way to the trash pit and that chicken wound up in Mother Garrett’s soup pot.

  31

  ON FRIDAY MORNING, WITH ONLY A DAY left before James and Andrew Leonard were scheduled to appear, Emma was as exhausted as she was desperate.

  She stood at the front door and watched the buggy carry away the three guests who had arrived unexpectedly on Tuesday. After closing the door, she went into the east parlor and collapsed on the sofa. The very idea of going upstairs to clean and change the bed linens in the three guest rooms kept her prone and lit the notion that since no new guests were expected for another week, she might simply close those rooms off, wait until Monday to tackle them, and pray no guests arrived unexpectedly in the meantime.

  When she heard Mother Garrett and Aunt Frances coming down the center hallway, she did not bother to sit up. When they entered the parlor, dressed for an outing wearing their fall capes and their silly bonnets, she closed her eyes and prayed she was dreaming.

  ‘‘Good, you’re resting,’’ Mother Garrett said. ‘‘Liesel’s in the kitchen with enough work to keep her busy until she turns eighteen. We’re off for a bit of shopping. Do you need anything from the General Store?’’

  Emma opened one eye. ‘‘No. Not unless you want to bring back some sort of net to catch that chicken. Are you sure you need to go shopping, or are you just using that as an excuse to take Aunt Frances around to meet someone else who might be a suitable match for Mr. Atkins?’’

  Mother Garrett sniffed. ‘‘In point of fact, we’re planning to do a little of both.’’

  ‘‘I’m hoping to meet Polly Shepherd today, so we’re going to stop at the dressmaker’s,’’ Aunt Frances offered. ‘‘But I really do need to stop at the General Store. Between doing the mending and making handkerchiefs for all your guests, I’ve run low on thread already, and I wanted to pick out something special for Reverend Glenn while I’m there. He’s been so very kind to me,’’ she added and her cheeks turned pinkly. ‘‘But don’t worry. If I forget to pay for anything, Mr. Atkins will simply put it on my account.’’

  Emma opened the other eye. ‘‘You have an account at the General Store now?’’

  Mother Garrett nodded. ‘‘Just like I do. It was my idea. That’s one way to avoid any misunderstandings.’’

  ‘‘We want to make sure poor Sheriff North doesn’t show up on your doorstep on our account again,’’ Aunt Frances added.

  ‘‘That’s a fine idea,’’ Emma admitted and sat up. ‘‘Just remember to see if there’s any mail, if you would, Mother Garrett. I still haven’t heard from the boys, and I’m hoping they might be able to come for a visit.’’

  ‘‘Surely.’’

  ‘‘And we’ll bring you back a surprise, just like you did for us,’’ Aunt Frances promised before the two of them left the parlor.

  Emma listened to the two women as they chatted together on their way to the front door and across the porch. Aunt Frances seemed very content and almost happy these days, which Emma found confusing. With James and Andrew coming tomorrow, she expected Aunt Frances to be nervous, since the outcome of the meeting would determine whether or not she would be able to leave Hill House to live with her sons again.

  Instead, Aunt Frances almost seemed more focused on staying here, even to the point of having opened an account at the General Store. Emma dismissed the idea as unlikely and assumed perhaps instead of confiding in her, the elderly widow had been talking with Mother Garrett or Reverend Glenn—both of whom must have been able to allay her fears about the future and indeed appeared to have become close friends. Judging by the blush on Aunt Frances’s cheeks when she mentioned buying something for Reverend Glenn, Emma wondered if perhaps the friendship between her guests was blossoming into something more.

  Emma sat for a spell, resting and thinking, then ventured outside to the shaded patio. She found Reverend Glenn whittling in front of the fire, which Liesel had started earlier that morning in the outdoor fireplace. Butter was sleeping alongside him on the stone floor, and the vise from Mr. Atkins was mounted on the arm of Reverend Glenn’s chair.

  She pulled a chair over and sat down beside him. ‘‘Would you mind some company or would I be interrupting?’’

  He set down his new penknife and smiled. ‘‘Sitting outside in front of a warm fire on a chilly day feels awfully good. I was praying you might join me. You know, I realized this morning when I was talking with Frances that I’d never made a cross for you. I was just starting on a new piece of candlewood to make one for you and thought you might like to watch.’’

  She sighed and stared into the fire. ‘‘I’m glad someone’s prayers are being answered.’’

  He picked up his penknife and started working the wood again. ‘‘Prayers are always answered. Whether we like the answers or even recognize them is altogether another matter. Sounds like that may be the case for you. Which is it?’’

  ‘‘Lately, considering all the things I’ve prayed for, probably a little of both.’’ She chuckled and shook her head. ‘‘The day that chicken ruined the riding skirt Aunt Frances was making for me, I prayed for that chicken to disappear from the patio. The next day, sure enough, the chicken was gone from the patio but had decided the gazebo made a handy chicken coop and now wants to roost occasionally on the porch railings, as well. I don’t know why that chicken had to pick Hill House for its home any more than I understand why God had to take my prayer so literally. I suppose I should be grateful the chicken hasn’t bothered any of the guests, except for Mr. Langhorne.’’

  Reverend Glenn stopped his work. ‘‘You’ve had a great deal on your mind these past few weeks and extra work for yourself with Ditty gone home. Maybe the chicken is still here to remind you from time to time to have faith enough to trust Him.’’

  She snorted at the idea the chicken served any purpose other than being an annoyance. ‘‘I’m trying. But where that chicken is concerned, I’m afraid I’m running out of both time and patience. On top of which, I have no idea how to help James and Andrew resolve their differences tomorrow if they don’t resolve the situation themselves. I’ve prayed and I’ve prayed, but every time I think I’m close to finding a solution, I discover I’m further away than ever.’’

  ‘‘Frances tells me I’m a good listener,’’ he murmured, and his gaze softened with a tenderness that only reinforced the notion that he and Aunt Frances were becoming more than just friends.

  Briefly, she confided in him and told him of her initial thoughts about the railroad, the details of Mr. Langhorne’s visit, which undermined them, and the dilemma she now faced. She did not, however, tell hi
m about possibly losing Hill House. ‘‘Even if I could think of something to do, I only have until tomorrow to do it, which means all my prayers to help Aunt Frances have gone unanswered.’’

  ‘‘Maybe that’s your answer,’’ he suggested.

  ‘‘What? To do nothing?’’

  He started rubbing his left arm. ‘‘Some time back after I suffered the stroke, when I was struggling living alone, do you remember coming to see me and asking me to come live here at Hill House?’’

  Disappointed he had changed the topic, she met his gaze and held it. ‘‘I do.’’

  ‘‘After my stroke, I prayed and prayed, too, just like you’ve been doing. After all the years I’d spent calling others to follow the Word, I felt the Lord would answer my prayers to be healed, to be strong and healthy again. Instead, I stayed . . . like this. I was angry and hurt and confused.’’ He dropped his gaze. ‘‘Then He sent you to me. If you’ll recall, you had to come back several times to convince me I should come here to live at Hill House.’’

  ‘‘Yes, I do,’’ she admitted, moved by the minister’s honesty and determined to continue to make a home for Reverend Glenn, wherever that might be.

  ‘‘That’s because at first, I didn’t like the answer He’d sent. Not until I realized He’d sent you in answer to my other prayers— answers I found here when I trusted Him and had faith in Him. Caring friends. Companionship. Laughter. All the things I’d missed after losing my wife and prayed to find again. Even Butter here showed up at Hill House to help me,’’ he whispered and reached down to pat the dog’s head. ‘‘It took me some time to figure it all out. Fortunately, you didn’t give up on me and neither did He.’’

  He paused and looked at her again. ‘‘Don’t give up on the Lord. Have faith and be open to His will, not yours. If there’s something you’re supposed to do or something you’re supposed to know, you will.’’

  Moved by his words, Emma bowed her head for a moment. When she searched her heart, she saw that same foolish pride staring back at her. ‘‘You’re right,’’ she admitted. ‘‘Solving this dilemma has become a matter of pride. I wanted to help Aunt Frances and not disappoint her, and now Mother Garrett and Aunt Frances are involved in ways I never anticipated,’’ she whispered, deeply regretting the potential lawsuit Mr. Langhorne threatened to file.

  She rose and pressed a kiss to the top of the elderly man’s head. ‘‘Thank you. I’m not sure how to solve this dilemma or how to make up for not being stronger in my faith, but doing a little penance might be a way to start.’’

  He chuckled. ‘‘Don’t be too hard on yourself. What did you have in mind?’’

  ‘‘I’ll start with cleaning out the clutter I’ve stashed away on the first floor. After that, we’ll see,’’ she teased and returned to the house with her troubled heart and mind a little lighter.

  ————

  After two hours of nonstop cleaning, Emma had cleared every bit of clutter from the first floor, but the clutter that once had been hidden in drawers or cupboards was now stacked in piles in the center hallway near the front door. An assortment of broken vases and chipped or cracked china were now ready for the trash pit, which is where she should have put them in the first place. Two piles held dated newspapers, journals, and magazines to be used over the winter when kindling was scarce. Wiping her hands on her apron, she remembered she had forgotten the papers stored in the sideboard and retrieved them, then returned to the center hallway and bent down to add them to one of the piles.

  Reluctant to see the expensive magazines go to ashes, she decided to sit down on the floor to sort through the piles and donate what she could to the lending library Mrs. Cooper had started in her home just last fall.

  The process was tedious, in part because she would stop to skim an article in one of the magazines or newspapers that caught her eye, especially if it concerned canals or railroads. After nearly an hour, she stopped herself. At this rate, it would take her a year to sort through everything. She started working more quickly and promised herself not to let any more articles distract her.

  Her good intentions lasted less than five minutes when she spied an article in one newspaper about the silk industry. Feeling stiff from sitting on the floor for so long, she picked up the newspaper and stood up to stretch her legs and back. She realized how quickly she had forgotten her promise and bent down to put the newspaper back into the discard pile.

  At the very same moment, the front door swung open and Ditty rushed inside, colliding with Emma, who dropped the newspaper. She caught herself from falling by grabbing for the wall but knocked over the piles of papers on the floor in the process.

  ‘‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’’ the young woman gushed. ‘‘Please tell me I haven’t hurt you.’’

  Emma sighed and shook her head at the mess on the floor. ‘‘No, I’m fine. I thought you weren’t coming back for a while yet.’’

  ‘‘My mother’s feeling much better, so my father brought me back earlier than I expected. I can work the weekend to make up for all the time I’ve missed, too.’’

  ‘‘We’d better start here,’’ Emma suggested. ‘‘Go hang up your cape and bonnet and fetch Liesel to help me, too. Maybe if you’re here with me, I won’t be tempted to read everything that seems interesting.’’

  Once Ditty was gone, Emma picked up the newspaper she had dropped. She caught a glimpse of a name in the article on the silk industry that had grabbed her attention, thought it seemed familiar, and skimmed the article to find the name again. ‘‘David Barkley,’’ she whispered and recognized it as the same name on the correspondence she had found in Mr. Langhorne’s hat.

  Intrigued, she carefully read the entire newspaper article that discussed an 1828 report from the Secretary of the Treasury on the silk industry, which included information supplied by a Mr. David Barkley from Connecticut. The more she read, the faster her heart began to race and the broader her smile became.

  She pressed the paper to her heart as she walked back to the hallway. ‘‘Of course! My first impression of Mr. Langhorne was right after all. It’s not the future prospect of a railroad that interests him. He’s not that wise of an investor. He’s much more interested in the present. I’d be willing to guess his new venture is in the silk industry and he needs land to plant mulberry trees to raise silkworms. I’m not sure how that will help James and Andrew, but somehow it might. In any event, Mr. Langhorne has lots of other property he could buy instead of theirs, although he won’t be able to control the toll road.’’

  She bowed her head. ‘‘Thank you, Lord. Thank you for leading me to that newspaper. Thank you for bringing Ditty home to knock some sense into me. And thank you for Reverend Glenn, too. I trust you. I have faith in you. Please show me what I should do to help the Leonards,’’ she prayed.

  When the front door swung open again, Emma instinctively stepped back, prepared for almost anything now that Ditty was home.

  Instead of Ditty, however, Mother Garrett entered the house, with Aunt Frances hurrying close behind. ‘‘You won’t believe who’s here.’’

  ‘‘It’s the best surprise we could have gotten for you, although in truth, they were already in the front yard when we got home. Look!’’ Aunt Frances insisted and stepped aside to let Opal and Garnet into the house.

  Both sisters were wearing their flannel shirts and trousers.

  Opal grinned. ‘‘We hope you don’t mind, but we only got as far as Bounty when we had to leave the packet boat. There’s a leak in the canal up there so they have to drain it to repair it, which means we’d be stuck there for a few weeks.’’

  ‘‘We could have traveled by coach to go around that section of the canal. But there were so many passengers doing the same thing, we were there for days and still waiting to secure passage by coach,’’ Garnet explained.

  ‘‘And you won’t believe who we met while we were waiting!’’ Opal cried gleefully.

  ‘‘Zachary Breckenwith,’’ Garnet replied withou
t giving Emma a chance to guess. ‘‘We even had dinner with him and his aunt.’’

  ‘‘That was before we rented a pair of horses to ride around the area to help pass the time. Then, on the spur of the moment, we decided to ride back here hoping you’d have room for us for another week or two. We found another shortcut, too, so you wouldn’t hear from anyone that we were coming.’’

  Emma hugged them both. ‘‘I’m so glad you came! Of course there’s room.’’

  An idea suddenly touched Emma’s heart and quickly turned her frustration into hope. When she glanced around at all four women in the hallway with her, the true answer to her prayers now became very clear. Just as joining their voices together gave greater power to prayer, combining their efforts would surely lead to a solution to her dilemma about whether or not to tell James and Andrew about the prospect of a railroad.

  ‘‘I need your help. All of your help,’’ she began, but before she had a chance to explain why, all four women volunteered and followed her to her office, anxious to discover how they might be of assistance.

  32

  ‘‘. . . ACCORDING TO YOUR WILL. AMEN.’’

  Once they concluded their mutual prayer for guidance, all four women who had gathered with Emma around her desk looked to her for an explanation of how they could help her.

  Quickly, just as she had done with Reverend Glenn, she explained the situation, omitting only her legal problems about not owning Hill House. This time, however, she took her time, detailing her first encounter with Mr. Langhorne and ending with her last.

  She folded up the map she had used during her briefing and set it aside. ‘‘Here’s my dilemma,’’ she concluded. ‘‘Whether I’m right or wrong in believing that the railroad will be part of Candlewood’s future, I still feel obligated to share what I’ve learned with both James and Andrew before they meet with each other here tomorrow.’’