Love Finds You in Poetry, Texas (26 page)

Peter scribbled a few more words then looked over at Georg, his eyes narrowing into slits. “You’ve given me the foundation for a beautiful poem, Georg.” He folded the piece of paper and put it into his coat pocket. “I will work on it over the next few days.” He paused then looked into Georg’s eyes. “Just one thing.”

“Yes?”

“Promise me you will give it to the right person when the time comes. This is a piece of your heart, after all. You don’t want to be dishonest.”

Georg managed a nod but couldn’t speak a word. He couldn’t get past the images of Belinda he’d just painted with his words. Her face. Her smile. Her hair. Her personality. Coming up with fodder for a love poem came easily as long as he focused on her. Perhaps that was because having Belinda in his life kept everything in a steady flow, in perfect rhyme.

Without her...well, without her, everything was off-kilter.

Georg rose and shook Peter’s hand. “I can’t thank you enough. I daresay this poetry lesson was as enlightening as a sermon. Maybe more so. You’ve helped me put things into perspective.”

“That’s what poets do, Georg,” Peter said, gripping his hand. “That’s what poets do.”

Belinda and Greta closed up shop later than usual that day. After all of the chaotic events that had taken place, it took a bit longer to get back into the swing of things. And with more folks in town these days, the shop stayed filled with customers until the Closed sign went up.

Afterward, Belinda got busy sweeping up and organizing the back room. She owed Greta and Aunt Hilde that much, considering her disappearing act earlier in the day. As she gave the store one last glance, something caught her eye. Or rather,
someone
caught her eye: John Ogilvie, on the other side of the glass, peering through.

She opened the door and called out to him. “Something I can do for you, John?”

“Oh, no.” He shrugged then took a few steps in her direction. “Just killing time.”

“I see.” She paused, wondering if, perhaps, he was lonely. “I did a bit of looking for another bride for you, John. Haven’t found anyone just yet. I do hope you will forgive me for the mess I’ve made of things. I certainly never meant to hurt you in any way. I hope you know that.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He gave her a funny look, one she could not interpret. “In fact, it’s very likely I won’t need you to search for anyone at all.” Now a smile curled up the corners of his lips, and he gave her a wink. “I do believe the Lord has other ideas. I’m beginning to think I have been searching far and wide when I should have looked a bit closer.”

“O–oh?” She drew in a deep breath, unsure of what to do next. Was John Ogilvie making advances? If so, what could she do to dissuade him?

He walked to the window and peered inside, smiling as he saw Greta working. “She’s a fine girl, isn’t she, Belinda?”

Ah.
“Indeed. The finest.”

“A man would be someone mighty special to win a girl like that.”

“True.” Belinda stifled a grin. “Though I daresay, a fair maiden such as Greta could be won if the right man came along.”

“You think?” He grinned.

“Perhaps. And I have it on good authority that she loves yellow roses, especially the ones Ella Bromstead is growing in her front garden.”

Belinda gave him a nod and then stepped back inside, clamping a hand over her mouth to keep from chuckling. Another peek out the window revealed John sprinting down Main Street. Belinda laughed for a moment and then quickly stifled it, not wanting to draw attention.

Greta gave her a curious look from across the room. “What’s happened, Belinda? Something has you tickled. Is Sarah Jo up to her tricks again?”

“No, it’s not that. And I’m not really tickled so much. Just have a lot on my mind.” Belinda cleared her throat and tried to remain calm. “Greta, something rather odd has been happening of late. I don’t know if you’ve noticed it or not.”

“What’s that?” Greta looked up from her work with a wrinkled brow. “Something I need to be concerned about?”

“Perhaps.” Belinda grinned. “It’s John Ogilvie. He’s been hanging around the mercantile a suspicious amount of time. Have you not noticed?”

“What? Hmm? Noticed John who?” Greta looked down, her cheeks slightly flushed. “Not sure what you’re talking about.”

“Mm-hmm. Sure, you’re not.” Belinda grinned. “Why, Greta! I can’t believe you kept this from me. Are you—”

“I’m nothing,” Greta responded, turning back to her work. “Nothing whatsoever. Don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. Let’s just stop this before it gets out of hand.”

“Methinks she doth protest too much,” Belinda said, fighting back a grin.

Greta shrugged. “I cannot control what you are thinking. I can merely say that the man is coming around because he’s lonely. He doesn’t know what else to do with his time, so he spends it here.” She paused and then looked up with tears in her eyes. “Look at me, Belinda. I’m not a pretty girl, and I’m as round as a butterball. What man is going to want me, especially a fellow like John Ogilvie? He’s nice-looking. And...trim. I’m anything but.”

“Greta!” Belinda gasped. “Don’t you ever let me hear you say that again! You are the prettiest girl I know, and your heart is prettier still. If you don’t believe that, just ask the Lord. He will convince you that you are created in His image. He doesn’t make anything less than perfect.”

Greta chuckled and dabbed at her eyes. “All right, all right. I’m just saying that I don’t usually turn men’s heads. So, if John Ogilvie has his head turned...or if he’s spending an exorbitant amount of time at the mercantile, he’s probably interested in someone else, not me.” She gave Belinda a knowing look.

“Are you saying he’s interested in...me?”

“Well, yes,” Greta rolled her eyes. “Obviously. It’s the only thing that makes sense. I’m surprised you haven’t thought of it before now. John isn’t the first man to look your way, and he certainly won’t be the last.” She went off on a tangent, talking about Belinda’s assets—her beautiful hair, her contagious smile, her curvy physique. After several moments, Belinda interrupted.

“Greta, have you ever heard the term ‘poetic justice’?”

“I believe so.” Her cousin shrugged. “Why?”

“In every great, classic story—the really good ones, anyway—good is ultimately rewarded and vice is punished.”

“Right.” Greta nodded. “What does this have to do with anything? I’m not following you.”

“You are the finest person I know, and you will be rewarded in the greatest of ways. That is how poetic justice works, both in literature and in real life.”

“I cannot deny that I am ready for something wonderful to happen,” Greta said with a smile. “Though I would hardly call it poetic justice. If anyone deserves her happily-ever-after, it’s you.”

“Thank you.” Belinda smiled. “I hope you’re right, though I’m not sure I need to be rewarded for anything.”

“Well, of course you do. Look at all the happy couples who have benefitted from your services.”

Belinda chuckled. “All right, all right. I am happy they are all so happy.” She sighed. And I suppose, for the first time in my life, I’m ready to admit that I would like to be married, too. I do not claim to know how the Lord will accomplish this, only that He will...in His time and His way.”

In that moment, something served to distract them both. Belinda looked up and smiled, noticing John Ogilvie, who stood several feet in front of them with a fistful of yellow roses in his hand.

“This is not about me, Greta,” Belinda whispered. “I daresay, a certain man is not headed
my
way with those flowers; he’s coming straight to you.”

“Oh my goodness.” Greta fussed with her hair then turned to Belinda with a frantic look in her eye. “He really is, isn’t he?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“What do I say to him?”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll come up with something. Just speak your heart.”

Belinda headed to the other side of the store to give John and Greta some privacy but kept a watchful eye on them, all the same. Her heart was so broken after her cousin’s emotional outburst that she hardly knew how to respond. Did Greta really see herself as unlovable? Did she think there were no men out there for her? And why would she compare herself to Belinda? Had she fretted over these comparisons for long?

For whatever reason, thinking about Greta’s love life reminded her of Georg. Thinking about Georg caused tears to rise in her eyes. Oh, what she wouldn’t give for Georg to come marching through the door of Poetic Notions with flowers in his hand...for her. She would dab on a whole bottle of lemon verbena to draw him in, if that’s what it took.

No, she wouldn’t, either. She would sit back and wait. And wait. And pray. And do absolutely nothing unless the Lord instructed. If she’d learned anything at all over the past few months, it was this: walk at least one pace behind the Almighty, never in front. With that formula firmly in place, all would be well. Where He led, she would go.

And if He didn’t...well, she didn’t want to think about that.

Georg’s heart grew heavier with each step away from Rhyme and Reason.
I can put this off no longer. I know what I have to do.
The Lord had spoken very clearly through Peter, though in a roundabout sort of way. Georg now had his answer. He did not love Adeline. Never had and never would. And he could not marry her. To do so would be deceptive. Perhaps Belinda would never care for him the way he cared for her, but marrying the wrong woman would not make that situation any better. And it would not honor God. No, there was only one thing to do now. He had to let Adeline know—and the sooner, the better.

He thought about what his father had said that night in the barn, about how it would be better to walk through a bad courtship than a bad marriage. How many people married only to discover they did not love the person after the fact? Well, he was not going to be one of them. Georg could not marry a woman he didn’t love, and he could not be convinced to love Adeline when he did not. And no matter how hard he prayed, the Lord would not deliberately send him into the arms of the wrong woman.

True, from all external appearances, they were perfect for one another. And they even shared a like faith, something critical to a couple’s survival. Still, when he gazed into her eyes, he didn’t get that gripping feeling in his heart that he expected to have. He didn’t wake every morning thinking only of her. He didn’t fall asleep every night with her name on his lips.

In short, he didn’t love her. Oh, maybe he could learn to, in time. He was certainly attracted to her, after all. But love? No, love was something so much deeper. Love was what he felt for Belinda Bauer, and it couldn’t be traded for anything in the world. In fact, he wanted to share his heart with anyone and everyone who would listen. He wanted to stop the stranger passing by and tell him about Belinda’s blue eyes. He wanted to climb to the rooftop at Stanzas and holler his feelings to the masses. In short, he wanted to make his feelings known, regardless of the cost. For only in making them known would he be completely honest...with himself and with Belinda.

The things he’d just said to Peter now stared him in the face. He was in love with Belinda, and there would be no turning back. Every step would be calculated and carefully prayed through. Surely the Lord had his future planned out.
I know I can trust You, Lord.

As he drew near the school, Georg caught sight of Myles Lott on the front steps with an armload of books. He called out to him. “Myles? Need some help with those?”

Myles looked up. “Actually, yes. I saw you coming and decided to bring them out to you.”

Georg laughed. “My learning days are over, Myles. At least, classroom learning.”

“Oh, the books aren’t for you.” The schoolmaster smiled. “I’ve been putting together the books and lessons Adeline’s younger sister will need when she arrives. I thought it might be wise to go ahead and get these to Adeline now so that she can tutor Catherine as soon as she gets here. The earlier, the better; otherwise, the child will lag behind the other students. She will feel out of place.”

“Ah, I see.” Georg stopped cold. “Well, about Catherine...”