The Matrimony Plan (16 page)

Mrs. Simmons perked up, as well she should, given the family’s motor garage business. After Mr. Simmons’s death and his partner’s retirement last month, only her son Hendrick was left to keep it going. Another hand would doubtless be helpful, but these children weren’t laborers. They needed a home.

The thin, towheaded boy came next, dressed in denim trousers and a yellowed white shirt. He looked just as terrified as earlier.

“Matthew is a bright child, though shy. He’s short for his twelve years but very strong.”

“Why does every child have to be measured in terms of their strength or skill?” Felicity muttered.

“He’s pointing out their advantages,” whispered Mariah, settling in beside her.

“It cheapens them.”

“Perhaps, but the end result is a home.”

“Does the end justify the means?” Felicity said. “Why not just have the families meet the children? That’s what’s supposed to happen.”

While they were talking, the agent introduced Nathaniel, the fireplug of a boy who looked ready to box anyone who came near him. Upon cue, he demonstrated his talent on the mouth organ, and the assembly rewarded his effort with a rousing ovation.

“Luciano,” the agent said as the last boy was led out.

A low murmur rippled through the sanctuary—foreigner, dirty. The insults circled like flies.

“We call him Luke,” the agent continued, “just like the apostle. Yes, his parents came from Italy, but Luke was born right here in the United States.”

“That boy ain’t Italian,” Hermann Grattan grumbled behind her. “He’s half darkie.”

Felicity stiffened at the racial slur. How dare he say such things? She turned and hissed, “Hush.” Of all people. Mr. Grattan came from Germany. He even refused to change his name during the war. He should know better. “Keep your thoughts to yourself.”

She hoped the boy didn’t hear the murmured epithets, but when his little shoulders drooped, she knew he had. She wanted to hug him close and tell him it would be all right, but would it? She scanned the congregation, looking for
someone who would accept Luke, and found no one. Tears burned her lids.

Please, someone help Luke
.

That someone turned out to be Gabriel. He walked over to Luke and placed his hands on the boy’s shoulders, confirming his worth. Luke looked hopefully at Gabriel, but a single man, even a minister, couldn’t take a child. She’d enforced that rule with Coughlin. It had to hold true for Gabriel also.

Last came Grace, the golden-haired girl, now dressed in a ruffled pinafore. She still clutched the rag doll to her chest, though the thumb had come out of her mouth. Her wide blue eyes made the women sigh. At least half the applicants would name her as their first choice.

Next Mariah guided the applicants forward one at a time, so the children wouldn’t be overwhelmed. Felicity watched each interaction, trying to match applicant to child. Gabriel stood behind the children like a guardian angel. Though he frequently looked out at the crowd, his gaze never fell on her.

Every couple stopped to meet the little girl, Grace. Mrs. Simmons dropped to her knees to talk. Mrs. Shea kissed the girl’s head. Cordelia Butterfield, who’d lost a baby girl last November, wiped away a tear. She would make a good mother, but her husband never cracked a smile. Grace deserved happiness, not a father who couldn’t even smile at her. Mrs. Grattan looked the girl over as if checking for lice. Felicity nearly intervened, but Gabriel hastened Mrs. Grattan along, noting the lateness of the hour. Felicity mouthed a relieved thank-you, but again he didn’t look at her.

As the line dwindled, Felicity glanced nervously at the remainder of the crowd. Thankfully Coughlin still hadn’t appeared. She shuddered to think what he would do to Peter, who stood very straight and very solemn through the entire proceeding. Though the boy put on a tough face, his lip occasionally quivered.

How horrible to stand on display, wondering who would select you or even if anyone would select you. Luke, the bronze-skinned boy, drew little notice from the applicants. Felicity looked at the remaining applicants, hoping someone would approach him. No one did. Like Slinky, he’d been deemed unfit and cast aside. If only she were married, she could take him. He would prosper in the right home, one filled with love and kindness, one like Gabriel’s.

As she watched Gabriel move between the children, squatting down to talk to the shorter ones, she knew that no man would make a better father.

Gabriel, Gabriel. She’d teetered on the edge of falling in love for so long, but today cemented her feelings. Somehow she’d convince her parents that he was a good and worthy man. As the last of the applicants met the children, she went to him.

“Thank you, Pastor.” The word felt strange on her lips, but not as peculiar as it once had. If their love grew, she might one day be a minister’s wife. Never in all her life would she have believed she’d want that, but as she watched him with the children, she knew without a doubt that she did.

“Ms. Kensington,” he said stiffly, barely glancing her way.

Ms.? Why was he using such formal language? For a moment, she faltered. What was wrong?

“How may I help?” she asked, eager to smooth over whatever was troubling him.

He avoided her gaze. “We need to get the children back to the boardinghouse.”

“Let me lead the way.”

“Thank you for your offer, Ms. Kensington, but we have enough help.” He began ushering the children toward the door. “The committee will meet in the office in a few minutes.”

Was that all? A horrible ache squeezed her chest so tight she could barely breathe.

“Gabriel?” she whispered.

His head jerked, so she knew he heard her, but he continued to herd the children to the side aisle. She followed.

“What’s wrong?” Her ears began to ring, and she gulped for air.

As the last of the children walked through the door, he turned to her. Their eyes met, and she saw in his a deep sadness. For a moment, he lingered in the doorway; then, without a word, he left.

The very air seemed to go with him. She clutched the end of the pew and closed her eyes against the gathering tears.

“Felicity, thank goodness I caught you.” Mother clamped on to her arm. “Mr. Blevins called on your father this morning. I believe he asked permission to see you.”

Felicity’s stomach lurched as she pulled herself from the brink of despair. “Who did what?”

“Robert asked permission to call on you. Your father would naturally have said yes.” Mother’s bloodred lips stretched into a predatory smile. “Our work has paid off.”

Felicity stared at the doorway through which Gabriel had vanished. Every time they got close, something drove them apart. Dread rushed in where despair had just dwelt.

“You’ll be Mrs. Robert Blevins,” Mother crowed.

The words that had so enchanted her weeks before now struck a deadly nerve. She could not marry Robert, not when she loved Gabriel.

“No.” The word bubbled up from the deepest recesses of her heart.

“What do you mean? Of course it will happen. If I’m any judge of character, and you know I’m the best, he’ll propose by summer’s end. Why wouldn’t he? You have wealth and
beauty. What else could he want? Come along, dearest. He’s waiting for you.”

“Now?” Everything was whirling out of control.

“Of course now.”

“But I have a meeting. The Selection Committee.” Felicity pulled her arm from Mother’s grasp.

“Oh, that. Your father told me he and Reverend Meeks have already made their decisions. The meeting is just a formality.”

Daddy and Gabriel had already decided without her input? Shock turned to dismay. No wonder Gabriel hadn’t been able to meet her eyes. No wonder he didn’t want her help. They’d gone ahead without her. Her opinion meant nothing.

“But the children,” Felicity cried. “What about the children? I’m a member of the committee. My voice needs to be heard.”

“Goodness, Felicity. Stop blubbering about a ridiculous little committee. Who cares about orphans when Robert Blevins is waiting?”

Robert Blevins was not her future, no matter what Mother and Daddy wanted. Felicity straightened her shoulders. Those children needed her, and she would not abdicate her responsibility. Daddy and Gabriel
would
listen to her.

Without another look at Mother, she strode to the church office.

S
hadows cloaked the office in darkness, so Felicity pulled open the drapes. The air hung heavy with the scents of typewriter ink and Florabelle’s perfume. Sharpened pencils bristled from a cup on the corner of the secretary’s desk, buttressed by a Bible and a hymnal that subtly warned borrowers to return all borrowed pencils.

Felicity cracked open the window and breathed in the fresh breeze, ripe with a sunburst of summer flowers.

“Darling.” The nasal tenor from behind set her on edge.

“What are you doing here?” She whirled around to see Robert sitting in Gabriel’s chair. “You’re not the pastor.”

The chair creaked as he rose. “Neither are you.” He glided to the door and shut it. The latch clicked with deadly finality. “I trust you’ve heard the news.”

Felicity’s nerves twisted into knots, and she backed against the window. Nothing bad could happen in a church, could it? Gabriel would soon be here, and Daddy must be nearby.

She crossed her arms. “What do you want?”

The tips of Robert’s mustache jerked up. “Is that any way to treat your guy?”

“You’re not my
guy.
We’ve barely seen each other in the past two weeks.”

“That’s my fault. Too much business, not enough pleasure. Can you forgive me, chickadee?”

“I’m not your chickadee.” She looked out the window, afraid he might see the fear in her eyes. A robin hopped across the ground, cocking its head to one side listening for worms. Could she hear danger in Robert’s voice? She drew her attention back to the room and jumped when she found him just inches away.

“What do you prefer to be called, darling?” He lifted a finger to her hair, and she recoiled.

“Nothing.” She edged toward Florabelle’s desk. “I’m not your darling or your chickadee. I’m plain old Ms. Kensington.”

“Ms. Kensington? Isn’t that a little formal for two people in love?”

“In love? I never told you I loved you.”

“But you did. The picnic basket, the little knapsack, asking me to help on the stained glass window. A man would be a fool not to read those signs.”

“Those were just kindnesses,” she said to cut off the litany of mistakes. “I’m sorry if I misled you, but I never had any feelings for you.”

“Now, now, chickadee.” He clucked his tongue. “It’s too late to play coy.”

“I’m not playing coy. I didn’t care for you then, and I don’t now. Nothing has changed.”

“On the contrary, darling. Everything has.” Robert lifted her hand to his lips.

She yanked it away. “It’s over.”

“Yes, darling, the long wait is over.” If possible, he drew even closer. “Now that your father—”

“Daddy spoke in haste. He didn’t even consult me.” She
slipped past him into the only open area, the little spot behind Florabelle’s desk.

Robert positioned himself between the desk and the door, blocking her only escape. “Consult you about what?”

“About giving you permission to court me.”

Robert laughed. “Permission to court? How quaint and old-fashioned. I suppose you go to church suppers and quilting bees, too.”

Felicity flushed. “But Mother said you spoke to Daddy.”

“So I did.” He edged toward her.

She stepped back and ran into the bookcase. “About the airfield project?”

“Not about the airfield project and not about courtship. This is much, much better. I asked for your hand.”

“M-m-my hand?” The room began to spin. “As in marriage?”

“As in engagement,” he crowed, reaching an arm around her waist. “Aren’t you excited, darling?” He closed his eyes and leaned forward to kiss her.

Felicity abandoned every one of Mother’s rules for ladylike behavior. Like a squirrel caught in a room, she frantically looked for escape and without a thought for appearances, crawled over the desk, knocking Florabelle’s precious pencils to the floor.

“Where are you going?” Robert cried, spinning about. “Felicity? Darling?”

She slipped and slid on the rolling pencils, but desperation kept her moving forward. She had to get out of the room now—before Robert caught her, before he trapped her, before her life was ruined. Arms flailing to keep her balance, she stumbled across the room and yanked open the door.

There stood Gabriel, his expression grim. “My congratulations.”

He’d heard every word.

Her mouth went dry. “I-I-It’s—” she stuttered, so desperate to tell him the truth that nothing would come out.

Gabriel nodded stiffly. “You also, Mr. Blevins.”

That pompous fool had come up behind her. Beaming, he pumped Gabriel’s hand. “I’m the lucky one.”

Gabriel smiled wryly. “Yes, you are. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” He started to leave but then spotted the disarray inside the office. He looked at her with evident concern. “Is everything all right?”

“Couldn’t be better,” said Robert, squeezing her by the shoulders.

She couldn’t stand it any longer, but neither could she explain. The words just couldn’t get past the ball of anger and humiliation in her throat. Gabriel must think the worst of her.

Gabriel closed the office door. “I’ll take care of this mess later.” He frowned at her. “We’ll meet in the sanctuary.”

The meeting. How could she concentrate for the meeting? Then she remembered what Mother had said. Daddy and Gabriel had already made the decisions. This meeting was just to inform her, to lead her to believe that her opinion counted.

Tears rose as Gabriel walked into the sanctuary. The doors closed softly behind him.

“Alone at last,” Robert said. “I thought he’d never leave.” He ran a red-hot finger across her ear.

She jerked away. Were all men the same, thinking they could have whatever they wanted? Well she was tired of being pushed around. Her opinion did count for something. In the case of Robert, it counted for everything. Mother and Daddy and Robert could not maneuver her into a marriage she did not want.

The preposterous man tried to wrap his arms around her again, but this time she threw them off.

“Stop it. If you don’t, I’ll scream, and trust me, Gabriel will come running.” She backed away, fists up like a boxer preparing to spar.

“Darling.”

“I’m not your darling, your chickadee or any other endearment. I am Felicity Kensington, and I have no intention of marrying you.”

Instead of showing distress, the man grinned.

At any other time she would have asked why, but this was too important. “I’m sorry if I led you to think otherwise, but my feelings belong to another. I could not marry you if you were the last man in Pearlman. I’m sorry, but that’s the truth.”

He wiped his mouth, setting one mustache tip off-kilter. “It’s goodbye then.”

She nodded, and he left without protest. The door slipped silently closed, and she stood for long minutes in the dim vestibule. How strangely Robert had acted, as if he’d never cared for her at all. She knit her brow, trying to figure it out, but such peculiar behavior defied explanation.

In time, her thoughts returned to duty. Behind the sanctuary doors, Gabriel and Daddy waited for her. After the pain of the last few minutes, they would understand if she excused herself from the meeting, but the children needed her—if she could stand up to Robert, she could speak her mind to Daddy and Gabriel.

She pushed one of the doors halfway open and peered inside. The two men worked closely, their heads almost touching. Daddy was speaking, too low to hear. Whatever he’d asked, Gabriel nodded agreement.

Daddy leaned back with a sigh and extended a hand. “Thank you for seeing this little matter my way.”

Gabriel reluctantly shook. “I can’t say I completely agree.”

Felicity watched in horror. What if Daddy had convinced
Gabriel to give Coughlin a child? She couldn’t think of any other part of the process that Gabriel objected to. That had to be it. No wonder they wanted to meet without her.

“I can count on you,” Daddy said, “and that’s all that matters. Come on up to the big house for dinner, son.”

Gabriel shook his head grimly. “I have other plans.”

Felicity slowly released the door so it didn’t make a sound. She had to do something to stop this injustice, but what? Everyone was working behind her back—even the two men she loved most. Her legs shook as she left the church. Daddy could be hardheaded, but she’d trusted Gabriel. She thought he cared about the children. She thought he understood.

Oh, how wrong she’d been about everyone. She wiped away an angry tear. It was such a foolish plan—find a husband. What good would that do when they only wanted to control things? Marriage was no better than being subjected to Mother’s scheming.

If she wanted to save those children, she’d have to do it herself. She didn’t quite know how, but God always provided a way.

She’d better find it before ten o’clock tomorrow morning.

Hours of prayer didn’t help. Felicity sat on her bed and searched the Bible for direction. How?
Lord, show me.
Never before had she relied so much on God, yet she was just as lost.

Her mind kept wandering back to Gabriel. Why would he agree to send an orphan to Mr. Coughlin? It went against everything she thought he stood for. He’d protected the children. He’d rejected the application. He upheld the rules. He wasn’t the type of man who would then send innocent children into danger. Yet she’d heard him agree to Daddy’s proposal, and Daddy had talked of nothing else but approving Mr. Coughlin’s application.

How wrong she’d been about everyone, but especially Gabriel. She’d kissed him. She’d wanted to make a life with him. Tears burned her eyes. What a fool she’d been.

Now she was the only person who could save the children, and she had no idea how. Frustrated, she set the Bible on her bedside table. A breeze from the open window ruffled the pages. She started to close the book when a passage from John struck her: “In my Father’s house are many mansions.”

Many mansions. Many homes. Many rooms. That was it. That was the answer she needed. Invigorated, she jumped to her feet and raced down the stairs.

“Felicity? Where are you going?” Mother asked as she rushed by. “It’ll be dusk soon. If you’re meeting Robert, he should come to the house.”

Felicity hadn’t quite told her about Robert yet.

“I’ll be back before dark,” she said as she burst through the door. This couldn’t wait. This had to be done now, even if it meant facing Gabriel.

Darkness set in late this time of year. As Felicity hurried down the hill, the sun was just dipping below the treetops, infusing the elms and maples with fiery diamonds of late-day light. Trees cast long shadows across streets and roofs, making the town look sleepy. If she had her way, Pearlman would bustle with new excitement.

She breathed in the humid summer air, ripe with scents of grass and flowers. Gnats gathered in clouds the way they always did in the evening. A month ago, she would have swatted and complained. Today, she strode right through them. What were a few gnats when God had set a purpose in her heart?

A few motorcars chugged back from the Grange Hall. There was Mr. Devlin’s old Model T, its doors rusty. There went Lyle Reimer on his daily journey to Lily’s, the town’s
only restaurant. Pearlman wasn’t New York City, but it was home.

At the parsonage, she hesitated. The motorcar wasn’t there. What if Mariah was gone? A light shone in the front window. She needed to broach her idea to her friend, not Gabriel. If he were the only one home, she’d lose nerve.

For the children.

She hovered on the porch, torn between fear and duty. What if Gabriel answered her knock? She chided herself. If God had sent her, He would find a way. She must simply act.

She knocked. A steady woofing announced that Slinky was home. A minute later, Mariah opened the door.

“Felicity, dear. What brings you here?” Mariah wore a dressing gown, and her hair was damp as if she’d just bathed.

“I’m sorry. I’ve interrupted you.”

“Not at all.” Mariah held open the door. “Come in. I hope you don’t mind a little mess. I gave Slinky a bath and ended up taking one myself.”

Felicity laughed nervously as she slipped indoors. “Slinky has a way of making everyone take part in his baths.”

“I heard about that first one.” Mariah led her into the kitchen, where Slinky sat with head cocked and white eyebrows lifted, as if to dispute what they’d said about him. “Gabriel loves to tell that story.”

“He does?” That warm, wild sensation returned with surprising force. Despite everything that had happened, the way she felt for him didn’t die.

Mariah smiled. “But you aren’t here to talk about bathing Slinky. Tea?” She poured a cup from the kettle on the stove. “It’s cooled a little but still delicious.”

Felicity gratefully took the cup. Holding it gave her something to steady her shaking hands. “Your brother isn’t here?”

“He took the children around town in the car. He wanted to point out the various landmarks, like the school and the
churches and the mercantile, so they’d feel more comfortable in their new hometown. He should be back in a half hour or so. Would you like to wait?”

Felicity gathered her courage. “Actually, I wanted to speak to you.”

“Me?” Mariah dropped into a chair, and Felicity took the one beside her. “You sound serious.”

Felicity peered into her cup, not sure how to say this. “Something’s been bothering me, but I didn’t know what to do until tonight. I found the answer in John’s gospel.”

Mariah took a sip of her tea and set the cup on the table. “What answer is that?”

Even Felicity’s fingertips tingled with excitement. The idea had come to her in a flash, but it was brilliant, the solution to everything. “The parsonage would be perfect.” Hot blood pounded to her brain, muddling her thoughts.

Mariah wrinkled her brow. “For what?”

She wasn’t explaining it very well. “Let me try again. I couldn’t help wondering what would happen if one or more of the children aren’t chosen tomorrow or if worthy applicants can’t be found.”

Mariah sat back, legs crossed at the ankle. “They’d return to the asylum in Detroit.”

“But think of the disappointment. To be so close to getting a real home, and to have to go back, why it’s worse than not coming here at all. Wouldn’t it be better if every one of them gets a home?”