An Unexpected Love (26 page)

He winced. Her offhand remark had obviously set him on edge. Well, he deserved as much. If he’d simply step out of her way, she could leave, but he remained planted in front of her, determined to have his say.

“It’s never too late for prayer. Marriage is a serious step. Promise me you’ll pray about this matter. Until the wedding, it’s not too late to reconsider your decision.”

“Promise
you
? Why should I promise you anything?”

“Because I care about you. You’re one of God’s children,” he quickly added.

“I see. And you care about all of God’s children.”

“Yes, but I care even more about those I know.”

“You know my father much better than you know me, and he has given the marriage his blessing. Perhaps you should trust his judgment. Wesley is a wonderful man, and I love him dearly.” She tipped her head to one side and several curls cascaded over her shoulder. She glanced at the floor when a hairpin pinged on the Minton tile. “I’d think you would be singing Wesley’s praises. You are going to benefit from his generous donation.”

Paul stooped down and retrieved the hairpin. “We’ve not yet seen any of the money he’s promised. Even his earlier pledges haven’t been forthcoming. Seems he’s having difficulty transferring his funds from England, which I find somewhat strange.”

“I don’t understand your concern. Wesley is extremely wealthy, and these financial difficulties frequently occur.”

Paul shook his head. “You’re incorrect on that account. Transferring funds is easily accomplished, and a man of Mr. Hedrick’s business acumen would be knowledgeable in such matters.” He held the hairpin between his thumb and forefinger. “I believe this is yours.” She reached to take it. He clasped her hand and turned it over. “Where is your engagement ring? I would think a man of Mr. Hedrick’s wealth would have wanted to place a lovely gem on your finger when he proposed.”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but Wesley wanted to be certain my father approved of our marriage before purchasing a ring. As soon as his funds arrive from England, he plans to choose something very special.”

Paul snickered. “Interesting. Seems all of us are waiting upon Mr. Hedrick’s transferred funds. Until then, we’re left with nothing more than his empty promises.”

“Well, I
never
!” Sophie elbowed her way past him and retrieved her wrap. The nerve of Paul Medford. Who did he think he was? All his talk of prayer and God, yet he didn’t hesitate to judge Wesley. She considered stomping on his foot but thought it might offer him some perverse satisfaction. With a defiant air, Sophie tipped her chin high into the air. She cringed when two more hairpins escaped her tresses and performed a gentle pirouette before dropping to the floor. Those dreadful hairpins were ruining everything!

16

Saturday, June 4, 1898
Broadmoor Island

Unlike her cousins, Fanny could hardly wait to arrive in Clayton, New York, and board the boat for Broadmoor Island. She’d been delighted when her uncle Jonas had announced their date of departure. On the other hand, neither he nor the other members of the family had appeared nearly so pleased. But that had come as no surprise to Fanny. Only her grandparents had shared her affection for Broadmoor Island. The rest of the family found no pleasure in visiting the island retreat.

If Grandfather Broadmoor’s will hadn’t required the family’s return each summer, she knew Uncle Jonas would have already sold the island—just as he’d sold her grandparents’ home in Rochester. Of course, the sale of the Rochester mansion hadn’t bothered most of the family. Only Aunt Victoria, Sophie, and Amanda had also considered the sale a treacherous act. Not because they cared about the house, but because they knew the sale devastated Fanny.

After realizing the sale had destroyed any possible remaining chance with Fanny, Daniel had written her a letter explaining that he would withdraw the contract if her uncle Jonas would permit him to do so. Thus far, her uncle hadn’t given him permission—at least that’s what Daniel had told her when he attended the charity ball back in March. At first she hadn’t believed him, but he’d escorted Uncle Jonas to the table and had him confirm the request had been made.

Predictably, her uncle said it was completely dependent upon what the court decided, and courts were notoriously slow in deciding such issues—especially when it came to the withdrawal of funds from the estate. In addition, he’d explained the house would be sold to someone else if Daniel were permitted to withdraw from the purchase. No one would think it prudent to let a young single woman buy the property—even if she had lived there most of her life.

Given his explanation, Fanny had allowed Daniel to join them at their table at the ball, but she’d made it clear she would never, under any circumstances, permit him to call upon her. She was, after all, eighteen years old now and had given her heart to Michael. Later that evening Fanny had noticed him dancing with several other partners. His wounded heart had obviously healed.

When she stepped off the
DaisyBee
at Broadmoor Island, she experienced the same exhilaration she’d felt since childhood. She would never tire of the fragrant smell of the lush island greenery, the sound of water lapping at the shore, and the prospect of sitting in the kitchen with Mrs. Atwell, inhaling the aromas of freshly baked bread and frying bacon early in the morning.

The older woman had packed many a picnic lunch for her and Michael to take on their frequent treks across the island to fish or to forage for arrowheads in their younger years. Each summer she realized how much Michael’s mother had influenced her life. No one could explain God’s Word any better than Mrs. Atwell. Not even the preacher at their East Avenue church in Rochester. Today she could barely restrain her anticipation.

Memories of Michael were everywhere. She felt his presence so keenly that she almost expected to see him smiling and waving to her from the boathouse.
Soon. He’ll be back soon, and then we need never be parted again. Whether he brings a fortune or not, it no longer matters. I will marry him, and we will be very content whatever our circumstance.

When they reached the top of the path and entered the house, Fanny started to proceed down the hallway while the rest of the family took to the stairs.

“Fanny!” She turned at the sound of her uncle Jonas’s voice. “I’d like to speak with you.”

Her shoulders sagged at his request. “But I—”

“This won’t take long. The maids will see to unpacking your clothes, and there’s nothing that requires your immediate attention.” He motioned her back toward the veranda. “Come, let’s sit outside, where we can enjoy the breeze from the river.”

She wondered if he truly wanted to enjoy the breeze or simply wanted to sit outdoors, where no one would overhear their conversation. Fanny had come to understand her uncle preferred to converse in private. That way no one could prove or disprove anything that he’d either said or denied.

Once outdoors, he dropped into one of the chairs that had already been scrubbed clean in readiness for the family’s arrival. She, on the other hand, perched on the veranda railing, prepared to take flight at the earliest possible moment.

“I have good news for you, Fanny. Your investments are doing extremely well. I think it would be wise if you let them stand without any changes. If you like, we could go over the list, and I could show the margin of profit so that you could . . .”

She shook her head. At the moment, the last thing she wanted to do was discuss her portion of Grandfather’s estate. “I’m not worried over the investments, Uncle Jonas. Whatever you decide will be fine. You have far more wisdom regarding financial matters than I do.”

“Thank you for placing your confidence in me. I will, of course, look after your money as if it were my own.” He tapped the bowl of his pipe on the heel of his shoe. “I know all of this has been extremely difficult for you. I’m doing my best to ensure the estate assets are protected.”

“I do appreciate that, Uncle. Until Michael returns, I’m certain you are the best man for the job.”

The older man frowned. “Of course Michael has little training—”

“Ah,
here
you are, Jonas. I was hoping we could go over your schedule so that I can organize two or three parties this summer.” Pencil and paper in hand, Aunt Victoria sat down in the chair beside her husband.

While the older couple discussed dates, Fanny slipped away unnoticed and hurried toward the kitchen. She stood outside the doorway for a moment and watched Mrs. Atwell rolling out a piecrust. A wisp of gray hair had escaped the knot she’d arranged at the nape of her neck. She glanced up and, spying Fanny, dropped the rolling pin on the wooden table, wiped her hands on the dish towel tucked at her waist, and held open her arms.

“I wondered if you were ever going to darken that doorway again,” she said with a wink. “How are you, dear Fanny?”

Fanny rushed into the older woman’s arms and found comfort in the warmth of the woman’s embrace. She had always loved Mrs. Atwell. But now they shared a special kinship: two women who loved and worried over the same young man.

“I would have been here sooner, but Uncle Jonas detained me. I’m fine, although I would be better if Michael would send some word.”

“You’ve not heard from him at all?”

“Only one letter, and that was before I sailed for England in October.”

“Frank and I received your beautiful card. It was kind of you to think of us while you were touring the English countryside.” She balanced the piecrust over her rolling pin and carefully dropped it into the pie plate. “We’ve had only one letter, too. From the sound of it, our letter was probably written about the same time as yours.”

“Had he written your letter while in Dyea?” Fanny asked.

His mother nodded. “Yes. He said he’d met up with a man named Zeb Stanley and his brother Sherman and was going to be working with them.” She formed another ball of dough, patted it flat with the palm of her hand, and began to roll another crust. “He said they’re both fine Christian men.” She beamed at the final bit of news.

Fanny nodded. “I wish at least one of us would have received a letter with more recent news. I’ve been doing my best not to worry, but I’ve heard lots of stories and . . .” A knot formed in her throat, and she permitted her words to trail off without completion. She didn’t want to cry in front of Mrs. Atwell. And she need not put troublesome thoughts in the older woman’s head. She likely worried about Michael even more than Fanny did.

Mrs. Atwell shook her head while she continued to roll the piecrust. “Worry serves no useful purpose, dear. Use your time wisely and pray for Michael’s safe and speedy return. You must remember that he’s in God’s care.”

“I try to remember that, and I do pray for him—all the time, but I’m not certain God hears my prayers.”

“Oh, He hears you, Fanny. Never doubt that your prayers are a sweet aroma to God. He wants us to talk to Him.”

Fanny tilted her head and grinned. “Talk to Him?”

“Why not? He’s my friend, and I talk to Him all the time, just like I’m talking to you. I tell Him what’s bothering me. When the flowers begin to bloom, I thank Him for the beauty they provide. If there’s ice on the river and Frank has to go to Clayton, I discuss it with the Lord. Just about anything and everything. He’s my constant companion.”

“I thought you considered Mr. Atwell your best friend and companion. Didn’t you tell me that?”

“I did, indeed. But Frank can’t always be right here at my side. The Lord is always with me.” The older woman arched her brows. “You see?”

“I think so.” Fanny knew the Lord was always available to hear her prayers. Mrs. Atwell had told her that before. But the idea of confiding in Him as she would with Amanda or Sophie seemed a bit foreign. If her cousins observed her voicing her innermost thoughts while alone, they would likely think she’d lost her good sense. Besides, she couldn’t imagine God having enough time to listen to the jabbering of all the world’s inhabitants.

“You don’t sound entirely convinced.” Mrs. Atwell dumped a bowl of sweetened raspberries into the pie shell. “Why don’t you give it a try and see if it helps? Once my older children left home and Michael was the only one here, that’s how he overcame his loneliness. I imagine he may be doing the same thing now. It makes me feel closer to God when I have my little chats, but it also makes me feel closer to Michael now that he’s away.”

“I’ll give it a try,” she said.

Mrs. Atwell placed the top crust on the pie and sliced the excess dough from around the edges before she expertly crimped the edges. “I am glad that Michael is with men who know the area and can help keep him safe. That thought has given me comfort.”

“I’m thinking we should be receiving word from Michael soon. He said the mail could be slowed down or stopped until summer.” Mrs. Atwell nodded toward the window. “Well, summer’s here. I’m hoping we’ll both receive a nice packet of letters. Wouldn’t that be a treat?”

Fanny agreed. “Thank you for lifting my spirits. I knew seeing you would help.”

Mrs. Atwell beamed at the compliment. “I was sorry to hear about Kate O’Malley’s illness. I always look forward to having her here for the summer.”

“How did you know?” Mrs. O’Malley had worked for the Broadmoors for many years and had frequently come to the island with them. But the fact that Mrs. Atwell knew of the housekeeper’s illness surprised Fanny.

“She wrote me a letter a few weeks back and said she’s hoping she’ll be well enough to come to the island by the end of the month. I’ve been praying for her.”

“Did Mrs. O’Malley mention my uncle had sold Broadmoor Mansion?”

Mrs. Atwell dropped the knife on her worktable. “Dear me. Mrs. O’Malley didn’t say a word. What’s to become of her—and the other servants?”

Fanny explained all that had occurred regarding Daniel’s purchase of the house. “Needless to say, I was angry with Uncle Jonas. He has assured me the servants will all be taken care of. He’ll either find them new positions or keep them employed at his home. I’m not sure I believe him, but I must take him at his word. For now, the servants still remain at the mansion. Uncle Jonas wants it maintained until the new owner takes possession.”