The Soul of the Rose (23 page)

Edward took a hasty step forward. “I’m already planning on doing that.”

“Oh.” Charles looked from one to the other. “I see.” He took a step back. “Well, then, I’ll look forward to tomorrow. Good-bye, Celia.”

The door jangled shut before Celia could make herself look up. When she did, she found Edward’s eyes fastened on her. “Celia,” he whispered her name. “Why haven’t you told me? Is something wrong?”

She looked at him a long moment, swallowed. “I know this seems sudden.”

His hand reached for hers. “Has something happened to one of your family? I’m glad I dropped by today.”

“No, it’s no one in the family. I just need time to think.” What could she say? Time to think wasn’t exactly true. Time to be away. Her eyes started tearing. She withdrew her hand from his.

“Is this about us?”

“Yes.”

Stirrings sounded in Mr. Chestley’s office. Celia hoped and didn’t hope he’d put in an appearance. She wanted to be alone with Edward, but it was increasingly painful, knowing what she did.

“Celia, can I see you tonight, after work?”

“I don’t think so. I have a lot to do to get ready.”

“How long are you going to be gone?”

“A while.”

“What do you mean? Will it be long?”

“It could be.”

“Celia, don’t do this to us,” his deep voice pleaded. “Don’t do this to me.”

“I’m doing what is best.”

“What
you
believe is best.”

“Please, Edward, don’t make this harder than it is. I—I wouldn’t have chosen this way. Believe me.”

He stood for some moments, silent, as if taking in what she had just said, wondering what to do. “So you are leaving the day after tomorrow? What time?”

“My train leaves at two thirty in the afternoon.”

“I’ll pick you up at one o’clock.”

“It doesn’t take more than fifteen minutes to drive to the station.”

“You’ll want to arrive in plenty of time. Besides—”

She couldn’t countermand him. Her eyes had been flitting to the side, down to the counter, anywhere but on him. Now, she forced herself to look directly at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t expect news of my departure to come out this way.”

Various emotions flitted across his face. Finally, he said, “I’ll come for you at one o’clock.” With that, he turned on his heel toward the door.

23

C
elia sat on her bed, alone. Everything was ready for her departure. She had hurried at the end to be early; she didn’t want to keep Edward waiting, especially in this instance. She realized she might keep him waiting forever in the larger consideration of his desires. She would not brood over that now, but she was hard pressed to keep her mind from conjecturing about last night. Mrs. Macon had paid her a visit in the bookstore just before closing. Mr. Chestley was holed up in his office.

“Could I talk with you, Miss, while no one is around?”

“Surely.”

“I’ve come because Mr. Lyons isn’t himself. When I asked if anything was wrong, he gave me a long, hard look and said, ‘Miss Thatcher is leaving.’ Then he half slammed the door to his library and I haven’t seen him since. His supper has gone cold on the table.

“I heard the scuttlebutt about the flower show and all. And all I’ve got to say is that he’s been misjudged by this town, and I wanted you to know it. His wife wasn’t all they thought she was. He wouldn’t say this about Marguerite because it would hurt his pride, but she had a streak in her, flirtatious I call it. When they had parties, I’d see her flirting with the men. Subtle-like, while her back was turned to the rest of the party, using her eyes from underneath her lashes, and little smiles. Then, once she entertained a man while Mr. Lyons was away to Boston. That visitor kept staying and staying, and when I finally asked her if it was wise, she told me in no uncertain terms if I told Mr. Lyons, she would see I lost my job. For a long time, I didn’t say anything, but then I just had to tell him. I was so surprised when he said he had known for a long time.”

Mrs. Macon’s hands gripped the counter. “You know, Mr. Lyons was always a gentleman, and never went into that part of her to others. But I thought you should know before . . . Well, I guess I’ve said enough. I know he wouldn’t want me down here, so I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t say anything. But he sets a powerful lot by you, and I didn’t want you leaving because of gossip about how he treated Marguerite. The town didn’t see her for what she really was. And he has his pride.”

Celia had thanked Mrs. Macon warmly, and said no she hadn’t realized this, but also, Marguerite wasn’t the reason she was leaving. Then she very kindly walked the housekeeper to the door before telling Mr. Chestley he could lock up after her.

But knowing this now made leaving harder.

Her hands twisted in her lap. Edward had specified he’d come an hour and a half before the train’s departure. How could she face him? To be with him that long alone? Earlier, she had asked Mrs. Chestley to accompany her.

“Celia, you know I would like nothing more, but Mr. Chestley said he needs me. I’ll just say goodbye to you at the house, see that everything’s in good order and then must hurry off to the bookstore.”

It seemed strange that Mrs. Chestley couldn’t come with her to the station, she very much doubted if her husband needed her that much. He had said his goodbye that noon. “Now, you know you will always have a place with us, Celia.” He had closed the store for the lunch hour, which he didn’t usually do, to be with her as she ate her last meal with them. In this case, he’d seemed casual about attending to the store.

Any minute now Edward would be announced. Abruptly, she fell on her knees, burying her face in her hands. “Oh Father,” she prayed, “help me! Help me to be strong. Help me discern what is best for us, for both our hearts. Especially in light of what I learned about Marguerite. And, Lord, I supplicate You for Edward’s soul. Do not let him die apart from You. Help me to be both firm and winsome in this battle. I don’t want to disappoint You or cause You shame. In Christ’s name I pray, Amen.”

She waited silently on her knees until some degree of quietness settled on her soul. She then rose to spend the last minutes with Mrs. Chestley. But as soon as she reached for her satchel, she heard a knock at the front door. She exited the bedroom to find Mrs. Chestley rising from her chair.

“That will be Mr. Lyons or his handyman.” Mrs. Chestley opened the front door.

“Come in, Ned. We have a trunk and suitcase in the bedroom.”

While Ned walked over to the bedroom, Mrs. Chestley took Celia’s hands and lowered her voice. “You look very fetching, my dear. That beribboned scrap of a hat adds the perfect touch. Mrs. Harrod has been most generous to you.”

“You don’t think it too modish for my family?”

“Your family will see a new side of you, certainly. But remember, by looking lovely you do honor to the man escorting you to the train station. Why don’t you go out to him now. . . .”

Celia stepped outside. Edward directed Ned where to place the trunk. The last case strapped to the carriage, Mrs. Chestley turned to her. “Now, dear, you must know how much I’ve enjoyed your time with us. I will not call this ‘
Adieu
,’ as the French would say; that is too final, but rather ‘
Au revoir
.’ ”

“You and Mr. Chestley must come for a visit,” Celia said. “You know Mother and Father would love to see you. Our family certainly warmed your hearth enough in the past.”

“Maybe we will at that. Certainly, if you don’t return to us soon enough.”

Throughout this exchange, Edward stood respectfully to the side. Celia didn’t know how this goodbye with Mrs. Chestley affected him. She hadn’t told him how long she would be gone, but she had cleared out her things from her room. In effect, she was leaving for good.

After a hard hug from Mrs. Chestley, Celia allowed Edward to hand her up into the carriage. “Why don’t you sit by this window to better see Mrs. Chestley,” he suggested, then walked to the other side and climbed in.

As the carriage took off, Celia leaned forward to blow Mrs. Chestley a kiss. A few moments later, her friend was lost from view and Celia sat back against the cushion. Edward had seated himself beside her. After they passed the block of stores and houses, he moved closer to her and quietly took one white gloved hand, then the other in both of his. Celia allowed the fond expression of farewell. She had wondered if such a gesture would happen en route to the station. She had both looked forward to it and dreaded it. She wanted to be strong and not let her guard down, giving him false hope, yet her womanly soul yearned to know he loved her. . . . She could not meet his eyes, however, and continued to look out the window.

Ned turned down a side street. At this she glanced at Edward. “This is not the way to the station.”

“Maybe not the direct route, but certainly the most scenic.”

How like him to indulge her love of beauty. Sure enough, he had chosen a route on the edge of town where a forest and then a glade showed out her side of the carriage. Even while her heart felt pain, it also felt peace sitting with Edward holding her hands and looking out on all this beauty. She should have trusted him to do something lovely at parting.

Then the carriage turned off to the side of the road and stopped. Edward took one of his hands from hers and leaning over, shut the curtains on his side of the carriage facing the road. “I’ve instructed Ned to stop for a few minutes so that we could have this time together. Celia, do I need to tell you I dread the thought of your going? This is so sudden, so last minute. I haven’t been able to think or plan—Celia, why all this luggage? It looks as if you’re taking all your worldly possessions.”

“I’m afraid so, at least what I had at the Chestleys.”

“But why? Aren’t you coming back?”

“I don’t know, Edward.”

He held her hands more firmly. “Is it as serious as that, our differences in view?”

“It’s not only about that. I can’t stay—that’s all I can say.”

“Celia, look at me.” She turned, honoring his request. After a few moments, he lifted one gloved hand to his lips, then the other. As she looked into his dark searching eyes, tears sprang to hers.

He lowered her hands and reached for his handkerchief. After she gratefully took it and wiped her eyes, he put his arm around her and drew her to him, resting her head against his chest. “You don’t want this parting any more than I do.” He stated it quietly but with a note of triumph. “You will not tell me why you feel so impelled to leave?” He held her closer. “Then I will tell you. Despite our disagreement, you feel the same oneness with me as I do with you. I am the match for your soul as you are for mine. This is something for which we have both longed. We want each other. We need each other. Yet, there is this one barrier, and you have erected it. Religion. God. Whatever you want to call it. But I want to go on record here that it is not I who have erected it. I would take you as you are. You are my soul! What has God to do with that?”

He pressed his lips to her head near her ear and let them rest there. She sensed, felt him drinking in the fragrance of her hair. His words of love were like darts in her heart.

He whispered, “We don’t need God to talk with each other, to share our deepest thoughts, our hearts.”

She felt her heart failing. To be this close and hear him say such things. Oh, how she wanted to let go all their contention and be at peace with him. She turned to try to face him, to draw away from his closeness, but he held her fast.

“I cannot talk like this, Edward.”

“You can talk very well.”

“Edward, I can only reiterate how important God is to me.”

“Celia. Celia.” He said the words tenderly. After a few moments he raised his head, loosened his hold enough so she could look up at him. “We can agree to disagree. We will disagree on many things. If we disagree without rancor, it will spice our conversation. And then we will call a truce afterward and sit as we are sitting now. I declare it thus.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, it’s obvious we would disagree on a number of subjects. My parents certainly did.” She was silent a moment. “I wish you could meet them, particularly my father. He is a wise man who knows much about God. He would be able to articulate what I have said so poorly.”

“Hmm,” was all Edward responded. He held her close once again. Celia could feel his lips once more caressing her hair. She didn’t have it in her to deny him. Then a knock sounded on the roof of the carriage. Moments later they started to move. Ned was watching the time.

A low groan came from deep within Edward. “Celia, whatever you may say, the strands of our individual lives are strongly entwined. You may run away from me, but you are mine.” His arms tightened around her, but he held her tenderly. They sat the remainder of the trip in silence.

Noises of other horses and carriages increased around them. Their conveyance stopped. Celia pulled away from him.

“One minute,” he said. He reached for her left hand. “Let me do this, Celia. Trust me.” He removed her glove. He kept her hand in one of his while he reached for something in his breast pocket. He drew out a ring set with a magnificent ruby. For a moment he held it to the sun shining in her window. “See its scarlet glow? The fire of my love burns like the red flame of this stone.” He lowered the jewel to slip on her finger. “This proclaims you are mine. When men see it, they will know you belong to another. Some might say, how dare I do this when the woman of my heart has not said yes to my proposal. ‘But I know her heart,’ I would say to them, ‘I know her wishes. She is mine, whether she says it or not.’ ”

The carriage jostled slightly. Ned had taken off one of the bigger bags. Edward raised her hand to his chest and held it there. Then he lowered it. “I will help see to your bags. Stay here until I return.”

Celia sat back on the seat, unable to say anything, hardly able to think. Edward had so mastered the situation. Had she done the right thing? But she hardly cared at the moment. All she knew was that she didn’t want to leave. But she must. She could barely cope with his presence at her side, his professions of love.

How she wanted to assure him of her love, hint at the deep yearning he had awakened in her. She felt limp, stunned. Thank God they had arrived at the station, that Ned was looking out for them. Otherwise, she would have given herself away. It would have needed only a little more and she would have exposed her heart to him completely.

How could she be so compliant? She almost despised herself. She had felt the danger, yet wanted to be part of it. Shameful of her. Oh, how glad she was he’d gone to see to the luggage.

As she waited, her head began to clear, her senses returned to normal. What had become of her, alone with him, just a few minutes ago? Had she no conscience? No firmness? For, of course, she could give him no hope—as much as she wanted to. Unless he changed toward God, their oneness was a dream, merely a wish of his.

Should she return his ring? To do so immediately would be the right thing. Looking out the window, she saw a growing number of passengers alighting from conveyances. She didn’t know what to do. Rather, she did, but wasn’t sure if this was the right place and time. But when would she see him again?

She saw him make his way around a carriage. Saw the seriousness, the determination, the pain etched into his face.

At once, she knew she could not hand back the ring. Not at this moment with the movement and people and animals all around. If she did it now, it would be done too quickly and would be like a slap in the face. And she could not slap the face she loved. Not after what Mrs. Macon had told her last night. She would not wound his pride like that. Later, she could think more clearly and would know what to do.

Edward stepped back into the carriage. With a quick motion, he let loose the curtains of the side nearest her, dropping them to give them privacy. He settled himself next to her, then drew her to him.

“Celia, in these final minutes I vow my unfailing love for you. I pledge myself to you. I pledge my name, my worldly possessions. I trust you as no other woman and have given you my ring.” His arm tightened around her and he said this time with more urgency, breathing the words, “Oh, Celia, how can I let you go?” Gently, he took her hand in his and kissed it, then kissed it again. His kisses were fearfully sweet.

Inside she trembled. She must master herself, take control of self and the situation. God help her!