father’s blessings.
Could they? Would they?
And there was Clay. She might love him, but Henry obviously didn’t approve of the man.
Would he approve of Elijah? He thought he would, at least that he had a good chance of winning his approval. He stared out the window. The soft glow of the moon lit the landscape casting deep shadows.
What was he thinking? He’d been invited to build an engine for Buckmeyer, not take one of his daughters back to California.
Mary Rachel would like that. His heart swelled at the thought of her name.
Beside his bed, he knelt and clasped his hands. He was a fool, a confused imbecile. He waited until the beating in his chest subsided. Laying his forehead on the bed, he clasped his hands behind his neck. What was he to do?
Oh, Lord, guide my path. Show me who You want me to have. Your perfect choice. For it is You Who knows best the perfect one.
Chapter Seven
The wordless exchange between her uncle and her stepmother set Cecelia on edge, put a sour taste in her mouth that the honey-laced coffee couldn’t cut.
Then, once the men were off to work, even before she could help Miss Jewel get their dinner to cooking, Mama May asked her so sweetly and nice if she could have a word with her in Daddy’s library.
Oh, Lord, she was found out!
She hadn’t meant to make so much noise last night.
“Of course, Mama. Now?” Did she say that just right? Would the perceptive woman hear guilt in her tone? But then, she hadn’t done anything wrong. One little kiss. That’s all it was. And she was going to marry the man.
“Yes, please. I’d like the word before you father returns home.”
With a nod, Cecelia gathered herself and smiled.
Oh, Lord, was she going to tell Daddy? Please don’t let her tell him, Lord.
Willing her lips into a scant smile, she met her eyes, but looked quickly away as tears suddenly threatened to fill and overflow.
“Yes, ma’am.” She couldn’t cry. Tears wouldn’t help! They’d only give her away. She opened her eyes wide, trying to dissipate them.
Mama May held the door until Cecelia stepped inside, gestured her toward the wingback, then took her father’s seat. “Sweetheart, your Uncle Chester tells me he heard someone in the attic last night. Someone about your size, he figures.”
A lie streaked across her tongue, but she refused to give it voice. No reason to dig her hole any deeper. Instead, she forced her face blank and found a spot on the wall to stare at. “He did?”
“Yes, indeed, he did.” Mama May looked away and sighed. “Then…he heard a thud when the young lady lowered herself into Mister Eversole’s room.”
Cecelia’s breath caught in her throat. Had the gasp been out loud? She was dead. Except her life hadn’t flashed before her eyes. More tears welled, too many to keep from falling.
A lump formed in her throat, holding back her voice. Helpless against it, all her words gathered up and choked her. She finally managed to swallow, and they came pouring out on top each other.
“I’m sorry, Mama. I’m so sorry, but I didn’t do anything wrong there. I just needed to talk. In private. Tell Elijah something.” The flood gates opened, and she sobbed into her hands.
May reached over the desk and offered a handkerchief trimmed in cotton lace from her pocket. “Here.”
The girl took it, and for a bit, she let her cry. Then once she regained some control, leaned forward. “CeCe, would Elijah tell your father the same story?”
The poor thing looked up with such a pitiful expression and nodded. “But please! Please don’t tell Daddy. You just can’t, Mama! He’ll….” She dropped her chin to her chest and covered her face with both hands.
Could May keep it from Henry?
Even if she wanted to for her daughter’s sake, she just couldn’t see how she could possibly withhold the incident. Hopefully though, she would be able to keep him from going berserk. Had the late night
Could they? Would they?
And there was Clay. She might love him, but Henry obviously didn’t approve of the man.
Would he approve of Elijah? He thought he would, at least that he had a good chance of winning his approval. He stared out the window. The soft glow of the moon lit the landscape casting deep shadows.
What was he thinking? He’d been invited to build an engine for Buckmeyer, not take one of his daughters back to California.
Mary Rachel would like that. His heart swelled at the thought of her name.
Beside his bed, he knelt and clasped his hands. He was a fool, a confused imbecile. He waited until the beating in his chest subsided. Laying his forehead on the bed, he clasped his hands behind his neck. What was he to do?
Oh, Lord, guide my path. Show me who You want me to have. Your perfect choice. For it is You Who knows best the perfect one.
Chapter Seven
The wordless exchange between her uncle and her stepmother set Cecelia on edge, put a sour taste in her mouth that the honey-laced coffee couldn’t cut.
Then, once the men were off to work, even before she could help Miss Jewel get their dinner to cooking, Mama May asked her so sweetly and nice if she could have a word with her in Daddy’s library.
Oh, Lord, she was found out!
She hadn’t meant to make so much noise last night.
“Of course, Mama. Now?” Did she say that just right? Would the perceptive woman hear guilt in her tone? But then, she hadn’t done anything wrong. One little kiss. That’s all it was. And she was going to marry the man.
“Yes, please. I’d like the word before you father returns home.”
With a nod, Cecelia gathered herself and smiled.
Oh, Lord, was she going to tell Daddy? Please don’t let her tell him, Lord.
Willing her lips into a scant smile, she met her eyes, but looked quickly away as tears suddenly threatened to fill and overflow.
“Yes, ma’am.” She couldn’t cry. Tears wouldn’t help! They’d only give her away. She opened her eyes wide, trying to dissipate them.
Mama May held the door until Cecelia stepped inside, gestured her toward the wingback, then took her father’s seat. “Sweetheart, your Uncle Chester tells me he heard someone in the attic last night. Someone about your size, he figures.”
A lie streaked across her tongue, but she refused to give it voice. No reason to dig her hole any deeper. Instead, she forced her face blank and found a spot on the wall to stare at. “He did?”
“Yes, indeed, he did.” Mama May looked away and sighed. “Then…he heard a thud when the young lady lowered herself into Mister Eversole’s room.”
Cecelia’s breath caught in her throat. Had the gasp been out loud? She was dead. Except her life hadn’t flashed before her eyes. More tears welled, too many to keep from falling.
A lump formed in her throat, holding back her voice. Helpless against it, all her words gathered up and choked her. She finally managed to swallow, and they came pouring out on top each other.
“I’m sorry, Mama. I’m so sorry, but I didn’t do anything wrong there. I just needed to talk. In private. Tell Elijah something.” The flood gates opened, and she sobbed into her hands.
May reached over the desk and offered a handkerchief trimmed in cotton lace from her pocket. “Here.”
The girl took it, and for a bit, she let her cry. Then once she regained some control, leaned forward. “CeCe, would Elijah tell your father the same story?”
The poor thing looked up with such a pitiful expression and nodded. “But please! Please don’t tell Daddy. You just can’t, Mama! He’ll….” She dropped her chin to her chest and covered her face with both hands.
Could May keep it from Henry?
Even if she wanted to for her daughter’s sake, she just couldn’t see how she could possibly withhold the incident. Hopefully though, she would be able to keep him from going berserk. Had the late night
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