In Every Heartbeat (33 page)

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY-EIGHT

L
ibby, I’ve missed you. It’s so good to have you home—and for three whole weeks!”

Libby leaned into the lumpy cushions of the well-worn parlor settee and grinned at Maelle. “You might change your mind before our Christmas break is over. After all, you aren’t used to having
three
girls underfoot. I might become an intrusion.”

Maelle had insisted Libby stay in her home rather than at the orphans’ school for the lengthy break, but every day they’d driven out to the school for time with Isabelle, Aaron, and the children. Even though Isabelle had put them to work decorating the orphans’ school, wrapping gifts sent by area churches for the children, and helping Cookie Ramona prepare goodies for the upcoming holiday celebration, Libby hadn’t minded. It felt so good to be
home
again, surrounded by people she loved.

She glanced across the orphanage’s parlor at Hannah and Hester, who sat cross-legged on the woven wool rug with Petey’s little sister Elma engrossed in dressing paper dolls. Their faces looked so content, and an occasional giggle rang from the small circle. Such a change in a short of amount of time—the difference love made, Libby realized. She also realized, with a start, that no animosity twisted her heart. She and Petey had begun praying together each evening, and they’d asked God to help her release her resentment toward Maelle and Jackson. Apparently the prayers had been answered.

Maelle lazily bumped Libby’s shoulder. “Since when have I seen you as an intrusion?” She offered a mock scowl that disappeared on a brieflaugh. “Just because I’m a mother now doesn’t mean I don’t have time for my favorite hand-picked little sister. And I suspect—” her expression softened as she gazed at the blond-haired girls—“Hannah and Hester will benefit from having you as an aunt. Attending college, becoming a published author . . .” Maelle’s eyes glittered. “I’m so proud of you, Libby.”

Libby contemplated Maelle’s words. If she couldn’t have Maelle as her adopted mother, having her as a big sister was the next best thing. She also liked the idea of being a positive influence for Hannah and Hester—much the way Maelle had influenced her. She smiled, nodding. “I’d love to be Hannah and Hester’s aunt . . . as long as they don’t call me Aunt Libby.” She pretended to shudder. “Makes me feel old!”

Maelle slung her arm around Libby’s shoulder, and the two shared a laugh. Libby leaned in close, relishing the comfortable camaraderie. How wonderful to set aside hostility and be at ease with her dear mentor and friend.

Isabelle Rowley bustled into the room, wiping her hands on a full, ruffled apron. She flapped the apron’s skirt at the girls and scolded mildly, “Get your mess picked up quickly now—Mr. Rowley, Pete, and Wendell are coming up the front steps with the Christmas tree. They’ll stumble over you if you don’t move.”

Giggling, the girls gathered their things and scuttled around the corner. Their feet clattered on the stairs as the front door burst open, bringing in a chill breeze and the scent of snow and pine. Maelle caught Libby’s hand, and they dashed to the wide doorway leading to the dormitory’s foyer in time to witness Aaron trying to wrestle a giant pine tree through the opening. Needles flew in every direction as Aaron yanked on the rough trunk.

Isabelle stood on the first stair riser, wringing her hands. “Oh, Aaron, be careful! I think this one’s too big. You might need to go back and cut a smaller one.”

He shook his head. Sweat beaded across his brow. “Nope. This is the one Wendell chose, and we’re gonna get it into the parlor if I have to cut a bigger door opening!” He gave another mighty yank. The large bottom branches folded inward, allowing the tree to pop through the doorway with another shower of needles. Aaron fell
kerplop!
onto his backside, and Petey and Wendell stumbled in behind the tree, nearly falling onto their cold-reddened noses.

Isabelle gasped, Maelle burst out laughing, and Libby stared at the tree. She clapped her hands in delight. “Look at it! The biggest tree ever!” She dashed past Petey and Wendell to slam the door closed, then shifted up beside Petey. Cold radiated from his jacket. She shivered and hugged herself. “It’s perfect!”

“I think so, too,” Petey said, clapping his brother on the shoulder. The boy beamed.

The thunder of footsteps sounded overhead, and children spilled down the stairway. Apparently the twins and Elma had spread the news that the tree had arrived. Eagerness lit every face, and their happy chatter filled the crowded space.

Isabelle raised her hands, holding them back. “Yes, we’ll decorate the tree after supper, just as we’d planned, but for now you must stay out of the way. While Mr. Rowley and Pete secure the tree in its holder, you go upstairs and round up all the ornaments.”

With cheerful shouts, the children wheeled and bounded up the stairs, disappearing around the bend at the top. Isabelle turned to examine the tree. “I hope we’ll have enough ornaments to decorate this tree. Goodness, but it’s monstrous!” Then she laughed, shaking her head and winking at Wendell. “It’s also the loveliest one we’ve ever had—so full and well shaped. Even without ornaments, it’s beautiful.”

Wendell hunched into his jacket, red streaking across his face. “Thank you, ma’am.”

Maelle stepped around the tree, heading for the staircase. “I’ll go help the children find all the boxes of ornaments. I might even put them to work making paper chains. That should keep them out of the way until you’re ready for them.” She dashed up the stairs.

Isabelle shook her head, looking after Maelle with fondness lighting her green eyes. “I’ll never be convinced she didn’t offer to oversee the children to avoid helping with the supper preparations.” She shrugged. “Oh well. She’ll keep the children out from underfoot, which is a tremendous help. And Libby can set the table for supper. Come along, dear.” Isabelle swept down the hallway.

Libby preferred to stay and watch Petey and Aaron stand the tree in its wooden holder in front of the parlor’s largest window, but she trailed after Isabelle as directed.

Promptly at six, everyone gathered around the trestle table in the school’s massive dining room and crowded onto the benches with no small amount of giggling and good-natured elbow bumping. As always, Isabelle and Aaron sat at opposite ends, and the children filled the benches that stretched along the table’s sides. Aaron offered grace and began passing bowls.

It never failed to surprise Libby how the Rowleys managed to fit everyone around the table. Over the years, the faces had changed, with some children going to adoptive homes and new ones arriving, but regardless of how many children resided under the school’s roof, there was a place for everyone.

It was an especially tight fit this evening. Since it was Christmas Eve, Matt and Lorna had joined the family for supper, and even Cookie Ramona and Petey’s mother sat at the table instead of bustling back and forth between kitchen and dining room. With the other additional guests—Petey and Libby, Maelle and Jackson and their daughters—everyone was forced to squeeze together. But no one complained. However, Libby decided it was best Bennett had gone to Alice-Marie’s for the first week of break. There wasn’t a spare inch of space on either of the benches to accommodate his bulk.

Libby looked across the table at Petey, who scrunched between his youngest brothers. Despite having to press his elbows to his sides to keep from jostling either of the boys, he appeared relaxed and assured. Finding peace with his mother had erased the worry from his brow, and each time he leaned across little Lorenzo to share a few words with Berta Leidig, Libby’s heart thrilled.

God, so many prayers have been answered. Petey is at peace with his family; I’m at peace with Maelle. . . . Christmas is a time for peace—thank You that we can celebrate without even a hint of unrest.

The moment they finished eating, the children began clamoring to decorate the tree. Isabelle raised her hands, commanding silence, and after several boisterous seconds their voices finally stilled. “Everyone, carry your own plate and cutlery to the kitchen to help Cookie Ramona. Then
walk
—no running, or someone might be trampled—to the parlor and we’ll—”

Whoops erupted, covering her final directions. Wild scuffling filled the air as the youngsters scrambled from the benches, snatched up their plates, and dashed for the kitchen. Spoons and forks bounced onto the floor. Giggles and squeals rang. Feet thudded as children ignored Isabelle’s instruction to walk. Libby placed her hands over her ears to block the raucous noise, but even then the joyous clamor threatened to deafen her.

Isabelle looked across the table to Aaron and laughed, holding her hands out in surrender. He added his laughter, then plucked their little son, Reggie, from his high chair. “I’ll direct in the kitchen. You head to the parlor and monitor from that end,” he said as he strode after the children.

Maelle and Lorna rose and began helping Mrs. Leidig clear the table, but Matt curled his hand around Lorna’s elbow. “No work for you, soon-to-be mama. You go on to the parlor and supervise the decoratin’. I’ll help with the clearin’ off.” Lorna offered a mild protest, but Matt hushed her with a kiss.

Although Libby knew she shouldn’t watch their display of affection, she couldn’t seem to look away. Love spilled from every corner—between Maelle and Jackson, Matt and Lorna, Aaron and Isabelle, and even Petey and his family. Her heart expanded, happiness filling her so completely she thought her chest might burst. What joy to be in the midst of this wonderful throng!

Eager to join the others in decorating the tree, she reached for her plate. But she felt a warm hand rest on her shoulder, stopping her. She glanced up to find Petey standing behind her, grinning. Her pulse immediately quickened just having him near. She started to ask what he wanted, but he lifted his finger to his lips, and she held the question inside.

Without a word, he slid his hand down her arm until he found her fingers. Linking hands with her, he led her around the corner and down the hallway, drawing her into the small cubby beneath the stairs, out of everyone’s sight.

He leaned into the corner, ducking slightly to avoid the sloping ceiling above. “Ah, quiet . . .”

Libby could have argued with him. Varying sounds carried from other parts of the school—children’s voices from the parlor, dishes clanking together in the kitchen, Isabelle’s confident voice offering directions on placing ornaments on the tree. But then she looked into Petey’s dear blue eyes, and those sounds faded into the background. The shadowy niche, even though far from idyllic, became a refuge of intimacy.

He still held her hand, and she curled her fingers more snugly around his. He offered a slight squeeze in return before releasing her to reach into his pocket. “I have something for you.”

His voice, low and husky, sent a tremor of delight down Libby’s spine. An eager giggle escaped her throat. Although he’d been a perfect gentleman for the past weeks, not stealing so much as a kiss on her cheek, she hoped he might take advantage of their solitude and gift her with a kiss on her lips. Tipping her head, she offered a teasing smile. “But Christmas isn’t until tomorrow.”

“But tomorrow others will be around. And this gift is . . .” He crinkled his brow for a moment, seeming to search for an appropriate word. With a sigh, he ended with, “Personal.”

Perhaps he did intend to kiss her. Unconsciously, she swayed toward him. His hand lifted from his pocket, and he held a small box on his open palm. Libby jolted back slightly to peer at the box. Formed of wood with a hinged top, it appeared scarred, as if the finish had been rubbed away over years of use.

“Merry Christmas, Libby.”

Something sweet and yearning wound around Libby’s heart at his tender tone. Her gaze lifted to meet his. “What is it?”

He gave his palm a slight bounce, enticing her to reach for it. “Look and see.”

With slow, deliberate movements, allowing anticipation to build within her breast, she reached for the box. Her fingers trembled as she popped the lid, and she released a gasp of surprise. Who would have expected such a worn-looking box to contain such a bright treasure?

Pressing her hands to her wildly beating heart, she gaped at Petey. “Oh! It . . . it’s beautiful!”

He lifted the brooch from its nest of threadbare black silk. The scant light reaching from the hallway lamps glinted on the red-faceted stones, casting a rosy glow on the inside edge of the pearls that circled the center cluster. He slipped the empty box into his pocket and reached for the rounded collar of her dress. His knuckles brushed her collarbone, sending a prickle of awareness down her spine as he fastened the brooch into place. Libby automatically shifted her hand, fingering the stones by turn. With the brooch pinned almost beneath her chin, she couldn’t see it, but she easily distinguished the pearls from the red gemstones.

He stood gazing down at the brooch. “It looks perfect there. I knew it would.”

Libby took in a deep breath, willing her galloping heart to slow. “Petey, I’ve never seen anything more lovely. But where . . . ? What . . . ?” Her tongue seemed incapable of forming sentences. Never would she have imagined receiving such an elaborate gift.

He leaned against the wall and smiled at her, his peg leg softly
tap-tapping
against the planked floor. “The brooch is made of pearls and rubies. Ma told me my grandfather gave it to my grandmother on their wedding day. Then my grandmother gave it to Ma when she married my father. And now . . .”

Libby touched the brooch lightly with her fingertips, imagining the generations of women who’d worn this brooch before her. She shook her head slightly. “Petey, you should keep this. It belongs in your family.”

He shifted, his body angling toward hers until his face was mere inches away. “If you have it, it will be in my family. Because I’m asking you to accept it as an engagement brooch.”