the kitchen of the parsonage where she and Caleb once again began unraveling two squirming children from coats, gloves, scarves and hats.
A pleasant female voice rang out from the kitchen beyond. “Do I hear the sound of familiar laughter?”
“You do, indeed,” Ellie called out in response.
Betsy Anderson, the woman engaged to Ellie’s father and who also served as Caleb’s housekeeper, stuck her head around the corner. Her light brown eyes peeked out from behind wire-framed glasses and, in what Ellie considered Betsy’s no-nonsense style, her gold-streaked, brown hair hung in a single braid down her back.
Somewhere in her late thirties, maybe early forties, the other woman’s face was slightly lined, probably due as much to her worry for her dying sister as from age.
At the moment, however, Betsy’s pleasantly round features wore a happy smile. Her cheeks were pink from exertion, as if she’d hurried to the house and then went to work immediately after the service, perhaps even before the final hymn was sung. She was going to make a wonderful pastor’s wife.
The Voss girls squealed in delight when they were finally free of their coats and saw their housekeeper smiling down at them.
“Miss Betsy, Miss Betsy,” they said in tandem. “Did you hear us singing in church this morning?”
“I most certainly did.”
“Want to hear the song again?” Hannah asked.
“I do, yes.” She held up a hand to forestall the impromptu concert. “After we eat dinner.”
Their little faces fell.
Ellie quickly took control of the situation. “Come on, girls. Let’s get you washed up for dinner.”
Giving them no chance to argue, she guided them to the washbasin. Halfway through the room, she heard Caleb inquire after Betsy’s sister.
“Her health is failing by the day.”
Ellie’s heart went out to Betsy, as well as the sister she loved and the woman’s young son. As she helped the twins wash their hands and faces, Ellie lifted up a silent prayer for Clara Driscoll and her boy, Brody.
Lord, be with them today and always, bring them the peace that can only come from You, the peace that surpasses all understanding.
Having lost her own mother at sixteen, Ellie knew the sorrow Brody suffered as he helplessly watched his mother die.
Heart in her throat, she looked down at the Voss twins. They, too, had lost their mother, at a much younger age than Brody. How much of Lizzie did they remember?
No woman could ever replace their mother, but Ellie prayed that whomever Caleb married would love his daughters as her own. That woman wouldn’t be Ellie. Not because she couldn’t see herself loving Hannah and Grace, but because she could also see herself loving Caleb.
That love would only bring her heartache. Caleb wanted a very different kind of marriage than Ellie did. No good would come from building up hope that one day he’d change his mind.
She must focus on her own future. She’d already sent out queries for another teaching position. Though jobs rarely opened up in the middle of the school year, she was confident the Lord would provide in His time. She simply needed to have faith. And patience.
She set aside the towel in her hand. “All done.”
“Thank you, Miss Ellie.”
The girls hugged her, then ran off to find their father and Betsy. Ellie stayed behind, her mind traveling back in time to the pain and humiliation of being judged for something her brother had done.
When she’d told Monroe the entire story of Everett’s crime, she’d expected him to give her the same grace and understanding her father showed the members of his flock. Ellie had terribly underestimated the widowed preacher’s capacity for forgiveness.
It was telling that she missed Monroe’s daughters more than she missed him. In fact, she missed her teaching position more than the prospect of marrying him.
Even though matters hadn’t turned out as she’d hoped, Ellie’s dream of becoming a wife and mother still lived in her heart. Wiser now, she promised herself that whomever she eventually married, he would love her with his whole heart.
She would settle for nothing less.
Caleb stepped into the Wainwrights’ living room and took in all the Christmas decorations. A sense of homecoming slipped through him, calming his soul, reminding him of the kind of home he wanted to provide for his family, not only at Christmastime but all year long.
Standing here, looking at the festive living room, he tried to recall the last time he’d been in this house. It had to be before he’d married Lizzie. Not much had changed in the years during his absence.
The furniture, positioned in the same places, still looked comfortable and inviting. If he closed his eyes, he would still be able to navigate around the overstuffed sofa, the brocade-covered chairs, the piano and various tables. He could walk to the wallpaper and run his fingers along the swirling floral pattern.
He’d spent many happy days in this house, the family treating him as if he was just another Wainwright son.
Guilt clogged the breath in his lungs.
He should have kept in closer contact with Reverend Wainwright. The man had lost his wife to illness, his son to prison and then his daughter to a job in Colorado Springs.
As if his thoughts could conjure up the man himself, the reverend came up behind Caleb and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “I can’t tell you how happy I am you accepted my invitation. It’s been too long since you were in this home.”
“I’m sorry for that, Reverend.”
“Don’t be.” The man’s eyes held nothing but acceptance. “You’re in a busy season of life, still grieving your wife and raising five-year-old daughters on your own.”
“I’m not completely on my own,” he countered. “Your future wife has been a godsend these past ten months, keeping my house in order and caring for the girls.”
“My Betsy is a generous woman.”
Too generous, he knew. She had enough of her own concerns with her nephew and dying sister, yet she still managed to help out Caleb and his tiny family.
He really needed to find a wife, sooner rather than later. After the chaos Lizzie had brought into their home, after the long absences, the not knowing how long she would be gone, or if she would ever return, Caleb was determined to restore order in his home. His daughters deserved stability. They deserved a carefully controlled, ordered life.
There could be no more unnecessary upheaval in their lives.
As if reading his thoughts, Reverend Wainwright addressed the situation directly.
