The Soul of the Rose (29 page)

Closing the white picket gate, a flash of scarlet winged over her path. A cardinal. Edward loved the color red and its many shades. She fancied he loved even the lightest pink because of her preference. The beautiful red of the cardinal struck a strange little chord in her. Was it a sign from heaven? She felt more lighthearted on the walk home.

As she came into view of her own house, she saw her father rise from a porch chair. “Celia!” he called. “A letter!” He hurried down to meet her.

They met at the end of the walk and he relieved her of the basket. “Mr. Lyons wrote me with a short note enclosed for you. Why don’t you sit on the porch and read it?”

Edward had never written her. She looked at her name on the folded manila paper. The script was an elegant, strong autograph, but looked as if written in a hurry. She sat with her father hovering nearby. He placed the basket on the porch floor.

She opened the note.

Dearest Celia,

Recently, I came across this poem, one that should be set to music. The words express the song of my heart:

I plan to see you as soon as possible.

Your own,

Edward

Tears sprang to her eyes. She cried, “Oh, Father!” and handed him the note.

After reading he said, “He wrote me he would ordinarily await the favor of a reply, but finds he cannot wait that long. From the date in his communication to me, he will be here tomorrow. You better tell your mother.” He handed both notes to her.

Celia took them and hastily opened the front door. “Mother!”

29

C
elia arranged the large bouquet of orange lilies in the tall vase. Their glowing color would brighten the dark foyer, the flower offering meant to speak a warm welcome to Edward. Her heart sang with the anticipation of his arrival.

Turning from the hall table where she placed the flowers, she ascended the stairs. Next, she would change into her white lawn dress. Mother was giving her the remainder of the morning to get ready. How would she arrange her hair? In a chignon, maybe, with a flower nestled at its side. White with just the faintest hint of pink in its throat.

Standing in front of her dresser, she drew open the top drawer. Nestled in a corner, wrapped in a fine handkerchief, rested the ruby ring Edward had given her. Should she wear it? Her heart said, Yes! Her better sense said, Wait. She had shown the ring to her parents on first arriving then put it away. Her siblings didn’t even know of its existence.

After the noon meal, she stood at the upstairs bedroom window keeping an eye out for the anticipated guest. Her father and her brother Joe would meet Edward at the station. What would they talk about on the walk to the house? The weather? That would be an appropriate topic since the air was balmy this late in the summer, a day surely meant for Edward and her. The graciousness of the Heavenly Father’s gift brought tears to her eyes.

There, coming in sight down the road, the three of them walked with Edward in the middle. Her father was slender and her eldest brother looked a mere boy next to Edward. He walked with a vigor that threatened to outstrip the other two. Was he that eager to see her?

The threesome turned into the front walk, her father now leading the way. She saw Edward glance up at the window where she was hiding. Had he glimpsed her? She felt her heart start to race.

She could not miss his entrance. She hurried across the room, out to the hall and skimmed down the stairs. Just as she reached the bottom step, the front door opened. She stopped just there, eagerly seeking his large frame. His eyes searched for hers, speaking a silent endearment. Then he stepped forward, holding out his hands. “Hello, Celia.” He hadn’t waited for the lady’s customary first gesture.

“Hello, Edward,” she answered softly. He pressed her hands, holding them long before releasing them.

Her mother appeared from the back of the house. Apparently, she had waited, hidden, anticipating this moment as Celia had. “So good to see you again, Mr. Lyons.”

Her glance now included both Mr. Lyons and her husband. “Would you gentlemen like some refreshment? I have tea, coffee, or lemonade. Mr. Lyons?”

“Whatever the rest of you will be taking.” He was all affability, wanting to please rather than be pleased.

Her father gestured him down the hall to his study. Last night, Father had made clear he would first speak to Edward alone. Before turning, Edward’s eye found Celia again. Her heart went down the hall with him and watched as he and Father entered the study.

Celia and her brother followed Mother into the kitchen. “Since it’s a warm day, I think your father would like a cool drink, as would our guest.” Mother started pouring lemonade into the glasses. “I have enough for all the children. Would you take these glasses out to the back yard?” Her look indicated her son.

“Would it be too much for me to bring the tray into the study?” Celia asked.

Her mother looked at her fondly. “I know how much you’d like to, but under the circumstances, I think I should. Besides, I want to take the measure of their conversation—what I can hear of it—and I also think I will be less of a distraction.”

Celia wanted so to be near Edward, to make him feel welcome and comfortable. An idea came to her. “Mother, may I first run to the garden and cut some flowers to arrange on the tray?” At her mother’s nod, she hastened outside with the cutting shears.

What to choose? Something scarlet. She looked at the zinnias and quickly clipped three. Once inside, she cut the blossoms near the head and put all three in a small bowl of water. They filled it to its lip with a cheery splash of color.

“That will look lovely against the light yellow of the lemonade, Celia. We’ll put it all on the black lacquered Chinese tray.” She added a plate of Grandmother’s cookies. “I’ve always been thankful to the Hodges for giving us this tray as a wedding present.”

Celia held the kitchen door while her mother walked through with the refreshments.

She was sitting at the table when her mother returned a few minutes later. “I think everything’s going well,” her mother volunteered. “Your father said for you to come to the study in half an hour.”

Celia glanced at the clock.

“Would you like some lemonade?” her mother asked.

“Maybe a little. I don’t think I could eat anything.”

Her mother smiled knowingly.

As her mother poured the lemonade, Celia’s hand went to her pocket and fingered the ruby ring hidden there. She wondered if Edward would note the color she’d chosen for the tray’s flowers.

The next half hour, Celia fiddled around the kitchen, helping her mother with dinner preparations as best she could. Finally, her mother laughed. “It would have been better to send you to your room to wait. You’ve just been getting in my way. Why don’t you get along to the study.”

At Celia’s knock, her father opened the door and motioned her inside, saying succinctly, “I’ll be with your mother.”

The door closed behind him. Her father was leaving them alone. This surprised her. Her eyes immediately sought Edward’s.

He stood near her father’s desk. Though the study was softly lighted, his eyes shone with the intensity of his feeling. He strode across the room, stopped in front of her, watching her face. “Your father approves of me.”

She held out her hands. He grasped them, kissing first one then the other. When his lips rested on her left hand, his eyes met hers, questioning.

“Oh!” She withdrew her right hand and reached into her pocket, fumbling just a moment for the object at its bottom. Bringing forth the ruby ring, she said, “I would take this out every morning, look at it its scarlet flame in the sun, believing your love burned as bright for me.”

He reached for the ring and gently slipped it on her finger. “Celia!” He drew her close, pressed his lips against her forehead. Holding her tight, he bowed his head and whispered words she had longed to hear. He told of his suffering after she’d left so summarily, of his determination to visit her father and talk about Christianity with as open a heart as he could muster. And his hope of seeing her somehow, some way.

When he finished, they stood some moments, silent. Finally, Celia said, “I cannot tell you how it feels to be in agreement about spiritual matters. Tell me, how did it happen?”

“Here, come to the window seat.” His hand slipped down to hold hers while he led her across the room. After seating himself beside her, he began, “The visit to your grandmother’s—she has a way about her.” He smiled. “When she spoke of God’s love—for me—I felt my interest quicken.”

Celia’s eyes began to tear. “Grandmother!”

“Yes, quite the lady. And you, too, my darling. Your careful explanations about God and then your father’s arguments cleared my spiritual pathway of years of debris. But I didn’t start walking down that path until your grandmother spoke of God’s love. She quoted Him saying:
I have loved thee with an everlasting love.
And then—
Hereby perceive we the love of God, because He laid down His life for us. . . .

His smile was warm and confident; it lighted his whole countenance. “Oh, the love of God! For each of us! It is deeper than the deepest ocean. But that realization didn’t crystallize till later.

“When I returned home, I contemplated all this, trying to piece it together—when that dreadful fire of Mrs. Divers’s occurred. It was then I started reading the Bible. Reading it, I began to grasp how great, how monumental God’s redemptive plan was, spanning the ages. John in Revelation wrote it began from the foundation of the world.

“Celia, I knew that I loved you, loved you deeply. To think that God loved me like that! Light started dawning in me. You spoke of your life changing. Now I know what you meant. My mind, my heart became light, light, light, mingled with the most glorious love.”

He slipped to his knees. “My dear! How can I thank you for being who you are. It was you and my love for you that opened the way to this revelation.”

He reached for her hands. “You know the rose that flourished outside the prison in
The Scarlet Letter
?
I was a man, standing inside the penitentiary looking out through bars, my eyes fixed on a lovely rose. A rose that spoke of hope and loveliness. You were that to me.” He turned her hand over, touching his lips to her palm. Kissed it tenderly.

He looked up. “Dearest Celia, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

“Edward! Yes, yes, with all my heart.”

He rose and drew her to him, kissed her hair, her forehead, her face. Then his lips sought hers.

Finally, she drew away. “These last weeks, I felt our oneness of mind and soul in so much, but was wounded to think we didn’t share what was most important: oneness of spirit.”

She reached up to tenderly touch his face. “I knew I needed to remain strong and leave the Chestleys, giving God time to work in your heart. Truly, I did not know how it would be accomplished, you with such a fine mind, who holds such strong opinions. I prayed and prayed. But thanks be to God.” She clung to him.

“Words sweet to my ears.” He laughed softly. “Words like those must be celebrated.” He bent down and pressed his lips to hers, long and hard. Then he lifted his head and his eyes looked triumphantly into hers.

Just then a knock sounded at the door, and a little girl’s voice asked, “May I come in?”

Celia parted from Edward, but he kept her hand firmly in his. “Yes, come in.”

The little girl opened the door cautiously and peeked in. “Mother said it would be all right.” The boys followed close on her heels. They all wanted to meet the new Edward, now that he would be part of the family.

“Celia said you’re a good archer,” the second-oldest brother offered.

“She did, did she?” Edward glanced at Celia fondly, his lips twitching.

“Our friend Willie down the street has a bow and arrow,” he added. “We can make a target, so we wondered if you could show us how to shoot better.”

“I can see what you boys will want for Christmas,” Celia said. She smiled at Edward, then grimaced at her brothers. “I suppose you may have him in a few minutes, but you must remember I’ve waited to be with him for weeks.”

Edward smiled at Celia’s siblings. “Could I have her a few more minutes . . . alone?” As her sister and brothers filed out of the room, he said, “I’ve already talked with your father about staying over Sunday. I want to hear him preach, worship in your church. And see where you went to school, view the town, and the like.”

“Edward, how absolutely wonderful. The people in our little town will all want to meet you. Are you sure you know what you’re in for?”

“Such eagerness will be a welcome change after the last—what has it been—three years? I wouldn’t mind an adoring town.”

“Maybe you should move here.”

“Well, I have plans you don’t know about. I spoke with Mr. Chestley before leaving. He wants you back in the bookstore, and I want you nearby—to court you, my dear. I have yet to persuade your father.”

“I’d like to be married here, in my own church,” she said softly.

“Of course. We both want your father to marry us.” He squeezed her hand. “My mother and whoever else of my family that attend the wedding might stay at your grandmother’s a night or two. It makes it very convenient your town is on the train line from Boston. And I’m contemplating a reception at the Harrods’.

His mouth twitched into a half smile. “I think Mrs. Harrod will accept the fact you will not be her daughter-in-law. I’ll butter her up with promises of letting the garden club meet in my conservatory. And will generously support their cause. In time, I’m sure it will dawn on her she will see more of you by marrying me than if you had married her son. I hear he is to stay in Boston practicing law.”

“You’ve been a busy man.”

“Regarding you, I certainly have,” he said. “Am leaving no stone unturned, want no toes stepped on. I want to deserve my wife in the town’s eyes, redeeming myself as best I can.” He planted a kiss on the back of her hand. “Someday I will be viewed as a paragon of men. People will cease to wonder how I deserved you, but rather think what a lucky catch you made.” He laughed and Celia couldn’t help laugh with him.

How delightful, she thought, to see him happy and making plans. Plans for both of us. As the day went on, she was amazed how easily he fit in with her family. No stiffness or undue formality. Her brothers adored him. She had to smile. Saturday afternoon when giving them pointers on archery, he used her as a guinea pig. As she held the bow and arrow, he ingeniously put his arms around her to show her brothers how to better aim. She blushed to feel him hold her thus, because, of course, he was the complete gentleman around her family with little or no physical contact. Her family, liking him as they did, wanted to spend as much time with him as his short visit afforded. She could tell, however, he yearned to be alone with her. His eyes would repeatedly catch hers.

Sunday evening after the worship service and their usual light supper, the family headed toward the sitting room as was their custom. Edward stepped up to Mrs. Thatcher. “As I will be leaving in the morning, do you mind if I take Celia for a walk?”

“Can I come, too?” her little sister asked. As soon as she did, the youngest boy chimed in as well. The two older boys held back. Celia had just given them a quelling look.

“I think a walk would be a nice idea,” Mother said. She looked down at her two youngest. “But why don’t we let Celia and Edward go by themselves. The night air is mild, perfect for a walk for just the two of them.”

Edward held the door for Celia and extended his arm in escort. With the moon lighting their way, they strolled very properly in such a manner, sharing thoughts they hadn’t been able to say in front of the family. But as they turned toward home, Edward put his arm around Celia, and as they walked, held her close. The last stretch they said little.