Two
Beatrice closed her eyes against the darkness clouding her mind. Her wet clothes were too tight. The cold had seeped into her brain.
The warmth from the stove and the firmness of the hard chair eased her faintness but she dare not open her eyes yet, afraid the room would spin and make it impossible to stay upright.
Levi hovered nearby. He’d saved her from disaster yet again. How long before he decided she was a bad risk and sent her back to town? How could she prove she could do the job if he had to continually rescue her?
Sucking in the deepest breath her constricting clothing allowed, she willed away the dizziness and opened her eyes. She would do what she’d come to do. “I’m fine.”
“Perhaps if you changed into dry clothes.” Mrs. Harding’s voice revealed no criticism, a fact that gave Beatrice a bit of courage.
“Yes, of course. My bags...” She could hardly expect Levi to go out in the rain that still pounded down.
“I’ll get them.”
“Oh, no. I couldn’t ask you to do that. It’s still raining.”
“You didn’t ask me. Besides, I could hardly get any wetter.”
Indeed, puddles followed his every step. He was as wet as she, and surely as miserable, yet he was willing to venture back out into the inclement weather. It wasn’t like he had to. He wasn’t one of Father’s servants, who were expected to run and fetch no matter the conditions.
Before she could answer or object he was out the door. She stared after him. If she wasn’t so miserable she might wonder if he was always so accommodating or was he anxious to be done with her?
She’d faced so many strange and frightening things since she’d left home. Only one thing had sustained her—her trust in God. She’d clung to His promises on the trip west and as Aunt Opal showed her how frontier life was lived. God is my strength and power: He maketh my way perfect. A fragile calm filled her. God would provide everything she needed.
Her gaze went to Mrs. Harding.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” the woman asked.
Beatrice nodded. She should get to her feet and introduce herself but she feared having another weak spell. “I’m Beatrice Doyle. The preacher’s wife is my aunt. They’ve sent me out to help you.”
“Pleased to meet you, my dear. And you shall call me Maisie. May I call you Beatrice?”
“Of course.” Beatrice’s insides steadied at Maisie’s kindness.
“I am blessed you have come.”
Levi returned at that moment.
“Put her things in Tanner’s old room,” Maisie said. She turned to Beatrice. “Go with him and please make yourself at home. Change into something dry then come back and tell me about yourself.”
Levi waited at the doorway to the next room for her to rise and follow him. He watched her as if expecting he would have to drop her bags and catch her again.
She held herself very upright and, doing her best to ignore her very uncomfortable clothes, she followed him into a sitting room, where there was a cluster of comfortable chairs, bookshelves full of books and a round stove for cold winter days. “What a warm, inviting room,” she murmured. She could imagine the family gathered round the stove on winter evenings.
“It’s nothing special. Tends to get a little crowded when the whole family is here and as you can see, there’s no place to go but here or the kitchen.”
She couldn’t tell if he meant to complain or if he was happy about having such a large family to crowd the house. “I would think sharing the room with family would be joyous.”
He paused before a door, a smile curving his mouth. “It is.”
She could not get over the way his features softened when he smiled. Like a happy feeling from inside him rushed to get out.
And then he opened one of the four doors along the wall, carried her things inside, then stepped out and indicated she should enter. He fled across the sitting room before she could even thank him.
The room was bright and pleasant, which made her realize the rain had softened to a mist. She parted the curtains and looked out the window. Trees stood shrouded in moisture with a trail through them. She was rather disappointed she couldn’t see the barn and whatever other buildings there would be. In fact, it was the first time in her life she’d been unable to see any sign of human habitation from her dwelling place and it both frightened her and filled her with a sense of awe.
Closing the curtains, she inspected the rest of the room. A little table stood beside the bed and upon it were a lamp and a Bible. Her courage grew by leaps and bounds. At least she’d come to a place where the Bible was important enough to be put by the bedside in their guest room, giving her hope they loved and honored God as much as she did. Another thing her parents and she had disagreed on.
“I do hope you are not going to be fanatical like my sister,” her mother had said with enough disdain to fill volumes. “She chose to marry a penniless preacher when she could have married a wealthy man.”
Since spending time with Aunt Opal, Beatrice decided being like her was a compliment. Aunt Opal was kind and gentle and loving.
She changed into a dry frock—one less fashionable but infinitely more comfortable—and hurried out to the kitchen. She drew to a halt when she saw Levi, in dry clothes, sitting at the table with his mother. She’d heard the outer door open and close and assumed he’d left.
Maisie reached out a hand. “We’re having tea. Come and join us. Tell me about yourself. Levi, pour our guest a cup of tea. My dear, sit down so we can talk.”
“But I’m not a guest. I’ve come to help you.”
“First things first,” Maisie said. “Levi, get her a cup.”
Beatrice crossed to the table feeling Levi’s gaze on her every move. Did he think he might have to spring up and catch her again? No more weakness, she told herself. She had to prove she could do this job. If she did it well enough, Maisie would be able to recommend her for another job. But her legs quivered at Levi’s attention. Why did she allow him to make her nervous?
Beatrice sat in the chair indicated and reluctantly allowed Levi to pour her tea. “Thank you.” She dare not look at him for fear she would see doubt in his eyes as to her suitability to do her job. So far she had done nothing but make more work for him.
“Now tell us about yourself. Where are you from?” Maisie asked.
“Chicago,” Beatrice answered.
“What does your father do?”
“He’s a businessman with many interests. Perhaps you’ve heard of Bernard and Wardell Doyle?” Bernard was her father, Wardell her uncle. “They own a railway, a manufacturing plant and several other businesses, though Father says his greatest asset is his name.” All the more reason Beatrice being a girl had been a disappointment.
“No,
