someone smaller around.”
“Oh.” She cleared her throat and smoothed her skirt.
Sophie lost track of time as she rocked with much contentedness by the fire. Maybe fifteen minutes had passed, or an hour, for all she knew by the magic of it. The sage green walls added to the calmness of the room. A lovely pastoral landscape with roaming sheep and a cottage down the road a distance hung above the clock on the mantelpiece. Enticing spices scented the air. Did she recognize cloves? Maggie sang in the dining room while she placed gleaming china plates on the table.
Realizing how busy Maggie was, Sophie jumped from the chair. “Maggie, don’t you need some help?”
“You’re my guest, and I’m guessing you have plenty to do at the boardinghouse.”
“But—”
“Sophie, my brother should have gone to pick up his package from you. I won’t have you and little Caira contracting pneumonia. The hem of your skirt and your shoes were soaked.”
“Really, I am quite dry and warm now.”
“Well, you may come fold these napkins and place the silverware, but then back to the fireside with you.” Maggie smiled and beckoned her.
Maggie’s table impressed her. Each white plate, covered with a blue oriental design, was smooth, without cracks. And each polished piece of silver matched the others. This contrasted greatly with Mrs. Fairgrave’s hodge-podge collection. “Such beautiful dishes.” They reminded Sophie of her childhood home.
“Thank you. I just love the Blue Willow pattern. They were given to me by my parents, for a wedding gift. Not a day goes by in which I don’t remember them, may they rest in peace.” Maggie sniffed.
After Sophie finished her little job, she returned to the rocking chair as her daughter seemed quite content. To be among such kind people was more than she deserved. She did feel like they were almost friends. The minister and his sister hadn’t seemed to look suspiciously upon her but instead showed such graciousness. At the doorway, she had been apprehensive, but now she felt more relaxed.
Sophie wiped the fresh tears trickling down her cheeks with the back of her hand.
“Miss Biddle, are you quite well?” Reverend McCormick’s brow furrowed with concern.
“I’ll be fine.” She could barely manage a whisper for the sobs she choked back. She swallowed hard. “I just miss our family sometimes.” There was the truth. In this happy place, she missed the security of a loving family.
How many evenings had Sophie, her parents, and Paul sat by the fire reading aloud or singing together with their happy laughter ringing out at times? At the boardinghouse, people would come and go. Esther Fairgrave was very caring, but Sophie was nobody’s daughter or sister, only hired help.
“I’m so sorry. How long have you been without them?”
A sob escaped with more tears. How had she allowed this display of emotions to happen? She shook her head.
“How careless of me, of course you don’t want to talk of it now.” Reverend McCormick placed a clean, folded handkerchief in her palm.
Sophie felt the warmth of his hand melt into hers from his gentle touch as though it were reaching for her heart.
“I’ll leave you alone for as long as you need.” He led Caira away by the hand. “Let’s see what kind of help Maggie needs in the kitchen.”
Sophie squeezed her eyes shut against the image while a thousand emotions vied for her attention. How sad. Reverend McCormick thought her family all dead and gone when she was the one all but dead to them. To see him cradle Caira’s hand in his own was too much. Her child would never have a papa to love her in such a tender way.
Alone in the parlor, she heard that still small voice speak to her heart, something she had learned in childhood, a verse from the Psalms.
“He is a father to the fatherless.”
Yes! That was it! Perhaps, even though she could never be good enough to marry someone like Ian McCormick, God was providing a father figure
“Oh.” She cleared her throat and smoothed her skirt.
Sophie lost track of time as she rocked with much contentedness by the fire. Maybe fifteen minutes had passed, or an hour, for all she knew by the magic of it. The sage green walls added to the calmness of the room. A lovely pastoral landscape with roaming sheep and a cottage down the road a distance hung above the clock on the mantelpiece. Enticing spices scented the air. Did she recognize cloves? Maggie sang in the dining room while she placed gleaming china plates on the table.
Realizing how busy Maggie was, Sophie jumped from the chair. “Maggie, don’t you need some help?”
“You’re my guest, and I’m guessing you have plenty to do at the boardinghouse.”
“But—”
“Sophie, my brother should have gone to pick up his package from you. I won’t have you and little Caira contracting pneumonia. The hem of your skirt and your shoes were soaked.”
“Really, I am quite dry and warm now.”
“Well, you may come fold these napkins and place the silverware, but then back to the fireside with you.” Maggie smiled and beckoned her.
Maggie’s table impressed her. Each white plate, covered with a blue oriental design, was smooth, without cracks. And each polished piece of silver matched the others. This contrasted greatly with Mrs. Fairgrave’s hodge-podge collection. “Such beautiful dishes.” They reminded Sophie of her childhood home.
“Thank you. I just love the Blue Willow pattern. They were given to me by my parents, for a wedding gift. Not a day goes by in which I don’t remember them, may they rest in peace.” Maggie sniffed.
After Sophie finished her little job, she returned to the rocking chair as her daughter seemed quite content. To be among such kind people was more than she deserved. She did feel like they were almost friends. The minister and his sister hadn’t seemed to look suspiciously upon her but instead showed such graciousness. At the doorway, she had been apprehensive, but now she felt more relaxed.
Sophie wiped the fresh tears trickling down her cheeks with the back of her hand.
“Miss Biddle, are you quite well?” Reverend McCormick’s brow furrowed with concern.
“I’ll be fine.” She could barely manage a whisper for the sobs she choked back. She swallowed hard. “I just miss our family sometimes.” There was the truth. In this happy place, she missed the security of a loving family.
How many evenings had Sophie, her parents, and Paul sat by the fire reading aloud or singing together with their happy laughter ringing out at times? At the boardinghouse, people would come and go. Esther Fairgrave was very caring, but Sophie was nobody’s daughter or sister, only hired help.
“I’m so sorry. How long have you been without them?”
A sob escaped with more tears. How had she allowed this display of emotions to happen? She shook her head.
“How careless of me, of course you don’t want to talk of it now.” Reverend McCormick placed a clean, folded handkerchief in her palm.
Sophie felt the warmth of his hand melt into hers from his gentle touch as though it were reaching for her heart.
“I’ll leave you alone for as long as you need.” He led Caira away by the hand. “Let’s see what kind of help Maggie needs in the kitchen.”
Sophie squeezed her eyes shut against the image while a thousand emotions vied for her attention. How sad. Reverend McCormick thought her family all dead and gone when she was the one all but dead to them. To see him cradle Caira’s hand in his own was too much. Her child would never have a papa to love her in such a tender way.
Alone in the parlor, she heard that still small voice speak to her heart, something she had learned in childhood, a verse from the Psalms.
“He is a father to the fatherless.”
Yes! That was it! Perhaps, even though she could never be good enough to marry someone like Ian McCormick, God was providing a father figure
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