Woman of Grace (21 page)

Hannah stood there in the shadows for a few seconds more, then quietly headed down the hall to where she could now hear her son playing. The tender moment she had witnessed, however, lingered in her heart and mind for a long, long time to come.

“So, what do you think of my latest creation?” Hannah asked one rainy October morning nearly four months later.

Abby, eight months pregnant and now very obviously in a family way, held the little dress Hannah had just handed her up to view. “I’ve seen a lot worse,” she replied finally, after examining it critically. “But, I must admit,” she added, her mouth curving into a grin, “I haven’t seen many better.”

Hannah smiled and leaned back from the double lockstitch sewing machine. “Well, I did have a very good teacher.”

“Humph,” Abby countered with a disbelieving snort. “I’d say, rather, you’ve already equaled and bested your teacher.” She lifted the dress’s skirt and examined the hemming and seams. “You really should consider making several more dresses like this one and putting them out on consignment in Gates’ Mercantile.”

“Oh, I couldn’t do that.” Hannah flushed and shook her head. “No one in Grand View would buy the dresses, once they learned who’d made them.”

Her friend paused to consider that for a moment. “You have a point,” she admitted finally. “And aside from lying and saying I made the dresses—which wouldn’t be right to do—that leaves only one other solution.”

Hannah eyed her warily. “What would that be?”

“Why, take the dresses to Colorado Springs, of course! I know a lady—Mrs. Waters—who runs a fine millinery shop just off Cascade Avenue there. All the wealthiest ladies of society frequent her shop. It would be the perfect place to sell your dresses.”

Misgiving filled Hannah. She couldn’t help, though, feel a tiny spark of hope flare. “Well, I don’t know about that. My dresses are far too plain—”

“It would be a simple matter to add extra lace and trimmings, and to use a better quality material.” With a casual wave of her hand, Abby dismissed Hannah’s protests. “Besides, what the fine ladies look for in children’s clothing is as much quality of workmanship as opulent fabric. Mark my words.” She handed the dress back to Hannah. “You’ll soon create a demand you’ll never begin to fill.”

Hannah knew Abby had experience in the millinery business, having worked at the highly respected Mrs. Waters’s Millinery shop for a time. But to consider selling any of her own creations … It was the answer to all Hannah’s problems, a dream come true!

If she could succeed at sewing clothes people would pay good money for, comfortably supporting herself and Jackson in a respectable manner was a real possibility. A world of opportunities and options would be hers. Above all, though, she would never again have to depend on the charity of others. She could stay or leave Culdee Creek as she wished, and not have to worry about ever returning to a life of prostitution.

Glancing up at Abby’s beaming face, a twinge of guilt shot through her. If Abby could guess her thoughts right now, Hannah knew it would hurt her friend’s feelings. And it wasn’t as if she wanted to leave Culdee Creek or the life she had made here. It was just that a smart woman always had a backup plan.

Besides, Christmas was only two months away. There was a bite to the air at night now, and they had even had a couple of brief, light snowfalls. It was never too soon to begin thinking about holiday gifts—gifts she might be able to buy, instead of just make this year, if some of her dresses sold in time.

There would even be an additional gift to buy, Hannah thought with happy anticipation, if Abby’s baby arrived on time. Doc Childress had estimated the baby’s due date at around the 14th or 15th of December. If all went well, there’d be a Christmas baby at Culdee Creek this year.

Yes, Hannah mused as she took up the little dress and began to pin a gathered ruffle to the end of the puffed, royal blue batiste sleeve, this Christmas promised to be a most wondrously joyous celebration. Jackson was nearly eighteen months old, and a more happy, healthy, bright little boy she had yet to see. Abby’s pregnancy, now that she was well past the threat of a miscarriage, was progressing well. Baby Bonnie, Devlin Jr., and little Mary seemed to be thriving now that a loving routine had once more been established. And their father … well, suffice it to say Devlin’s and her friendship appeared to grow with each passing day.

As her thoughts harked back to the past few months, Hannah’s lips curved in pleasant memory. Not only had Devlin asked her to make Bonnie’s christening gown, but he had also invited her to attend his daughter’s baptism in St. Mary’s Church in Colorado Springs, the closest Roman Catholic Church. Devlin wouldn’t have cared one way or another if Bonnie had ever been christened. But he had still done so, because he knew it was something Ella would’ve wanted.

Hannah had never been in such a large, impressive building. The neo-Gothic church of red, pressed brick and cut limestone, though still under construction, was complete enough for services to be held in the basement. Its little chapel was quite tasteful and reverently inspiring in its own right. Beth and Evan served as Bonnie’s godparents. Watching the touching ceremony, Hannah was struck by an intense longing to be baptized.

Since that day over a month ago, she had prayed over that desire, and had finally resolved to approach Noah Starr about the possibility of taking instruction in the Episcopal faith. Gathering up the necessary courage to approach him about the subject, however, was another matter entirely. She knew that if she asked, Abby would’ve gladly helped her. But Hannah wanted the news of her baptism to be a special surprise for her friend. So she bided her time and awaited the right moment to speak with Noah.

“How have things been going with you and Evan?” Abby asked, tugging Hannah back to the present. “I mean, since you had that talk with him and told him to back off a bit and give you some breathing room?”

Hannah glanced up from the second sleeve she was now pinning. She considered her friend’s question for a moment, then sighed. “He seemed to accept it pretty well for a while, but the past few weeks …” She shook her head. “It almost seems as if Evan’s decided he’s allowed me enough time, and now things should go back to the way they were.”

Abby studied her gravely. “He’s young. His intentions are good, but he’s not always the most patient man in the world.” She grinned and began slowly to rub her distended belly. “He gets that from his father, I’m afraid.”

“I know that, Abby.” Frustration filled Hannah. “It’s just the more he pushes me, the more I want to pull back. Sometimes, Evan’s love is so smothering!”

“Are you just not ready to marry? Or is Evan just not the man for you?”

Her friend’s words echoed Hannah’s own questions, questions she had repeatedly asked herself in the past months. Perhaps it was time to face her doubts.

“I’m not sure I know what kind of man is the man for me.” Hannah lowered her head. “I’m not sure if I should even dare hope that there
is
one out there for me. But, until I’m certain, is it so wrong to cling to Evan? He makes me feel cherished and loved.”

Awkwardly, Abby rose from her chair and walked to Hannah’s side. “You
deserve
to be cherished and loved, but it isn’t fair to lead Evan on. He loves you. The longer you keep him waiting and hoping, the harder the eventual parting will be on him.”

“I’m just so afraid,” Hannah whispered, feeling ashamed but even more scared. “For such a long time after I came to Culdee Creek, he was my whole future.”

“God is the only one you should ever fully depend upon.” Her friend’s hand settled supportively on her shoulder. “He will lead you toward the future
He
has always intended for you.”

Hannah glanced up through tear-blurred eyes. “And will He also lead me to the man I am truly meant for?”

“Yes,” Abby agreed with a smile. “If that’s part of His plan for you, He’ll lead you to the man who has always been meant for you. The man who will love you with a true and holy love.”

Two hours later, just as Hannah had finished the dress and was putting away the sewing supplies, Conor walked into the room. At the sight of her husband—whom she hadn’t expected back from town quite so soon—Abby’s face brightened with pleasure. That expression quickly faded, though, as she took note of his worried frown. Hannah hurried over to stand at her side.

“What’s wrong, Conor?” Apprehension threaded his wife’s voice. “Is someone hurt? Should I get out the bandages and such?”

“Won’t do him any good.” Culdee Creek’s owner raked a hand through his windblown hair. “Sam Starr’s dead. Died of a sudden heart seizure yesterday evening.”

Hannah exchanged a shocked look with Abby. Samuel Starr was Noah’s uncle and Grand View’s Episcopal Church rector. Hannah felt a stab of sympathy for the younger man. Overnight, he had become the leader of the town’s Episcopal community. He must also now take on the support and comfort of Mildred Starr, Samuel’s widow.

“How soon … will the funeral be?” Abby whispered and began stroking her abdomen in an almost unconscious, soothing gesture. “We should attend … pay our respects.”

“Two days from now, on Friday.”

“Is there anything we can do in the meanwhile?” Though she had hardly known the older Reverend Starr or his wife, Hannah felt compelled to offer her help. “Perhaps send some food? And will there be a reception after the burial? We could offer to cook something for that, too.”

Conor shrugged, his own feelings of confusion and sorrow etched plainly on his face. “I forgot to ask. Guess I can send a hand back to see what else might need doing for them.”

Abby nodded in agreement. “That would be best. In the meanwhile”—she shot Hannah a resolute look—“we’ll start cooking.”

The funeral and burial at Grand View’s forested cemetery was well attended by most folk in town, as well as by those from outlying farms and ranches. Though Hannah had to endure caustic looks from some of the local women—Mary Sue Edgerton and the Widow Ashley included—Evan and Devlin stood protectively on either side of her, with Conor and Abby bringing up the rear. It felt good to have such loyal friends.

After the ceremony, they all reassembled in the town hall for a communal meal. Hannah watched from across the room as others solemnly paid their respects to Noah and his aunt. She hesitated to join in the receiving line. Already the day had dragged on interminably, laden with unspoken but eloquent censure. The thought of subjecting herself to it yet again was almost more than she could bear. But then, if she hadn’t wished to endure it, she lectured herself, she shouldn’t have insisted on coming along.

Yet she had, and the gesture had been motivated by the memory of all the kindness Noah had shown her. It was past time—and the decent thing to do—to offer him compassion in return. It was also past time, she decided, that she broach the subject of joining his church.

Finally, as the receiving line began to dwindle, Hannah gathered her courage, rose, and walked over to wait her turn. A woman she didn’t know, standing just ahead of her, cast her a sour look and immediately sidled closer to her husband. From across the room near the punch bowl, Mary Sue gave a disdainful snort and met Hannah’s gaze with a narrowed one of her own.