Courting Miss Adelaide
Read Courting Miss Adelaide Online
Authors: Janet Dean
Tags: #Christian Books & Bibles, #Literature & Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #United States, #Religion & Spirituality, #Religious & Inspirational Fiction, #Inspirational, #Christian Fiction, #Historical Romance, #Series, #Steeple Hill Love Inspired Historical
“What you need is someone to teach you and your readers style,” Adelaide said.
Charles smirked. “I can’t see farmers reading it.”
“Well, no, but farmers’ wives spend money in town—”
“On birds for their heads,” he said.
She raised her chin. “Are you making fun of me, Mr. Graves?”
“Not at all, Miss Crum. Not at all.”
“Good, because I’d like to write a fashion column for the paper.”
“A fashion column isn’t a bad idea. Could you give me a sample—say, by Monday?”
“I’ll deliver it personally.”
He nodded. “Are you always this efficient?”
“I take my work seriously.”
“Ah, a woman after my own heart.”
The words ricocheted through her and left a hitch in her breathing, a huge knot in her stomach. Dare she hope for something too important to consider?
Books by Janet Dean
Love Inspired Historical
Courting Miss Adelaide
JANET DEAN
grew up in a family that cherished the past and had a strong creative streak. Her father recounted wonderful stories, like his father before him. The tales they told instilled in Janet a love of history and the desire to write. She married her college sweetheart and taught first grade before leaving to rear two daughters. As her daughters grew, they watched
Little House on the Prairie,
reawakening Janet’s love of American history and the stories of strong men and women of faith who built this country. Janet eagerly turned to inspirational historical romance and loves spinning stories for Love Inspired Historical. When she isn’t writing, Janet stamps greeting cards, plays golf and bridge, and is never without a book to read. The Deans love to travel and to spend time with family.
JANET DEAN
Courting Miss Adelaide
Published by Steeple Hill Books
™
Bear with each other and forgive whatever
grievances you may have against one another.
Forgive as the Lord forgave you.
—
Colossians
3:13
To my critique partner, Shirley Jump—
her slashing red pen, savvy advice and endless
support helped me become the writer
I am today. To David Highway, President of
the Hamilton County Historical Society—
a big thanks for his assistance with my
research. To my late parents, who never
stopped believing I’d attain my dream.
To my husband—a good man, a wonderful
father and the love of my life.
Contents
Prologue
From the March 1, 1897, edition of The Noblesville Ledger:
WANTED: HOMES FOR CHILDREN
NOBLESVILLE—A company of homeless children from the East will arrive in Noblesville, Indiana, on Saturday, April 13. These boys and girls of various ages have been thrown friendless upon the world. The citizens of Noblesville are asked to assist the agents of the Children’s Aid Society in finding good homes for the children.
Persons requesting these children must first agree to treat the children as members of their family, promising to feed, clothe, send them to school and church and Sunday School until they reach the age of seventeen.
Applications must be made to and approved by the local committee. Interviews will be held on Saturday, March 30, in Judge Willowby’s chambers at the Noblesville County courthouse. The following well-respected citizens have agreed to sit on the local committee: C. Graves, J. Sparks, T. Paul and M. Wylie.
Distribution will be made at the Ward schoolhouse on April 13 at 10:30 a.m.
Chapter One
Noblesville, Indiana, spring of 1897
A
delaide Crum stepped to the open door and peered into the judge’s chambers. Her heart hammered beneath her corset. Now that the moment she’d waited for had arrived, her courage faltered. She considered turning tail and scurrying home. But then she remembered the quiet, the emptiness of those rooms. She closed her eyes and sent up a simple prayer.
I don’t ask often, Lord, but I’m asking today. Please, let them say yes.
Squaring her shoulders, she crossed the room, then sat on one of the two chairs and faced the four men who held her future in their hands. To fill the vacant chair with something, she laid her purse on the seat, a seat that mocked her singleness.
Mr. Wylie, a large man who owned a farm north of town, folded his sausagelike fingers on the table. “I’ve dropped my wife off in front of your shop more times than I can count, Miss Crum.” He chuckled. “Usually costs me, too.”
She smiled a thank-you for his business.
Beside the farmer sat Mr. Sparks, the town banker. The little tufts of hair fringing his bald head reminded Adelaide of a horned owl. “Perhaps you’d better tell us why you’ve come, Miss Crum. Do you have recommendations for this committee?”
“I’ve come for myself.” Adelaide laid a calming hand on her midriff to offset the growing urge to deposit her breakfast on the table in front of her. “To ask for a child.”
Mr. Paul’s nostrils flared, giving him an air of disdain, not a cordial expression for an elder at her church and the town’s Superintendent of Schools. “For
yourself?
You’re a single woman, are you not?”
“Yes, but—”
“I hope you can appreciate how unfair it would be to place a child in your home, where, if something happened to you, the youngster would be homeless.”
“I’m in excellent health, Mr. Paul.” She’d take this opening to plead her case. “I have sufficient funds to meet a child’s needs.
And
a skill to teach, enabling a girl to make her own way. When I pass on, I’d leave her my worldly assets.”
She took a deep breath, pulling into her lungs the overpowering scent of Mr. Paul’s spicy cologne. “I’ll see she’s educated and brought up in the church. I’ve lived in Noblesville all my life. You remember seeing me in Sunday school, Mr. Paul. Mr. Sparks, I bank with you. Numerous people in town can vouch for my character.” She’d rehearsed the words countless times and they tumbled out in a rush.
One man remained silent. Charles Graves. Her gaze darted to the new editor of
The Noblesville Ledger,
who sat at the far right of the table. Rumor had it he was single. Mr. Graves’s generous mouth softened the square line of his jaw. Deep grooves marred his forehead, an indication, perhaps, that a newsman’s life wasn’t easy. And yet the cleft in the middle of his chin gave him a vulnerable air. Undeniably handsome, broad-shouldered and tall, he overshadowed the other men in the room.
He stared as if scanning the core of her, possibly looking for a flaw that would declare her unfit to rear a child. Their gazes locked and the intensity of his inspection sent a shiver down Adelaide’s spine.
Mr. Paul rose and came around the table. “Miss Crum, I believe your character to be without blemish. I’m sure you can do all you say. However, the fact remains you’re a maiden lady with no experience dealing with children.”
“We have childless couples begging for a baby,” Mr. Wylie added. “Couples, with acres of ground and not enough hands to till it, seeking boys. We have tried-and-true parents who’ve shown their abilities by rearing their own children.”
Heat climbed Adelaide’s neck.
Fiddlesticks! If I’d had the good fortune to be a tried-and-true parent, I wouldn’t be here.
How frustrating to have men make all the decisions, as they always had in Noblesville. She might be single, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t bring up a child. She had the capacity, the intelligence, to sit on a committee like this one, to help make important decisions. Why couldn’t men see women had a unique perspective with value, married or not?
“Gentlemen, I’ve proven my abilities by running a successful business while I tended to my sick mother. I can rear a child and do it well.”
Her gaze collided with the editor’s. Did she see compassion in his warm brown eyes?
Mr. Wylie pointed to the paper in front of him. “We’ll only be getting twenty-eight children, mostly boys. We’re unable to meet the demand. I hope you understand.”
She understood all right. They didn’t think she could handle the job.
Lord, give me the words to convince them.
“Gentlemen, please hear me out. The fact I’m unmarried will give me
more
time to devote to a child. I realize boys are needed in the fields. My desire to rear a girl won’t interfere with that.” She bit her lower lip. “I’d be a good mother, if you’d give me a chance.”
Arms folded across his chest, Mr. Paul leaned toward her. “The Children’s Aid Society does not seek single parents, except in the rarest of cases. If we weren’t overrun with applicants, perhaps we might consider your marital status more leniently.”
She searched their faces for help. Mr. Paul’s features appeared carved in granite. Mr. Sparks fidgeted in his chair. Mr. Wylie gave her a kind look, but showed no sign of intervening.
Mr. Graves wore a slight frown. He cleared his throat. “Miss Crum made some valid points about her suitability. Any chance, gentlemen, of stretching the rules?”
Adelaide held her breath.
Oh, please, God, change their minds.
Mr. Paul tapped the edges of the paperwork in his hand. “Charles, we aren’t here to make history. Just to make certain these children have good homes. Besides, placing a child in a fatherless home is unscriptural.”
Mr. Graves arched a brow. “Would that be Third Timothy Four?”
Adelaide knew her Bible. There was no Third Timothy. Surprised at the jab and pleased he knew the Scriptures, she smiled at the editor. He winked. Warmth spread through Adelaide like honey on a hot biscuit. Could this handsome, successful man be on her side?
Mr. Paul harrumphed. “Perhaps you find that funny, Mr. Graves, but I do not. The Bible makes it clear the man is the head of the family. It isn’t right to put a child into a home with no paternal guidance.”
Adelaide tightened her hands into fists. Mr. Paul’s fifteen-year-old son Jacob perpetually terrorized the town. A few months ago, she’d had to report him to the sheriff after she’d caught him setting fire to Mr. Hudson’s shed. The boy had run off and thankfully, she’d been able to douse the flames. Yet, Mr. Paul had the gall to preach paternal guidance. “I had no father growing up. I’m no worse for it.”
Mr. Paul leaned forward and patted her shoulder. “I didn’t mean to insult you. There are circumstances over which we have no control, but that’s not the case here.”
Adelaide glanced at Mr. Graves. His gaze had narrowed but he said nothing. What had she expected? He didn’t know her. None of them really did. They saw a spinster—nothing more.
“I’m sorry we can’t help you.” Mr. Wylie stood and walked toward the door.
She wanted to scream, but that would only prove her to be a hysterical female unfit to rear a child. She hated being powerless. Hated being at their mercy. Hated being unable to change a thing.
Adelaide grabbed her purse and rose. At the door, she looked back one last time, searching for some sign of softening on their faces, but no miracle came. Tears stung her eyes, but no matter what, she would not let them see her cry.