The Pattern of Her Heart (41 page)

“Fondness? What I feel is not fondness. It’s love,” she angrily admitted as she began to knead the bread dough with a vengeance. “This is what I receive in return for opening my heart to a little girl and her father,” she railed while punching her fists into the soft dough.

“And now what? I must leave Justin and Reggie, this house, these girls, this town—everything and everyone I’ve come to love. Where is your kindness and mercy, God? Is it reserved for all but me?” she questioned. Defeated, she dropped to one of the wooden chairs and gave herself over to the pent-up tears and pain—the loss and desperation that filled her soul.

She didn’t know how long she had been sobbing when she felt the touch of a hand on her shoulder. Elinor lifted her swollen, tearstained face. She hadn’t heard the child come in the door. She looked up into Reggie’s frightened eyes.

“What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Reggie asked in a trembling voice.

“It’s nothing,” Elinor replied. “I’m feeling a bit melancholy . . . nothing more.”

Reggie shook her head vigorously. “I don’t believe you. You told me a long time ago that if I came to you with questions, you would tell me the truth.”

Elinor gave her a feeble smile. “You’re right. I did promise you I would be honest with you, but I’m not certain this is the proper time.”

Reggie folded her arms across her chest like a commanding schoolmarm. “If it’s bad news, there is
never
a good time.”

“I suppose that’s true. You’ve grown very wise in your old age,” she teased.

“Does that mean you’re going to tell me what has made you cry?”

Elinor reached into her pocket and removed the notice that had been delivered earlier that day. “I’ve received notice that my boardinghouse will close at the end of this month.”

Reggie fell to the empty chair alongside Elinor. “You can’t go. I won’t let you,” she said, tears trickling down her cheeks.

Elinor drew her into an embrace. “Dear, sweet Reggie. Please don’t cry—I’ve shed more than enough tears for both of us. It will change nothing.”

Reggie sniffed loudly, then wiped her nose on a ragged hanky she pulled from her pocket. “We must go and talk to Father. He’ll know what to do.”

“There is nothing anyone can do, Reggie. And I can’t leave right now—the girls will be home for supper soon, and I’ve been sitting here feeling sorry for myself rather than preparing their meal.”

Reggie grasped Elinor’s hand in a death grip. “Promise you’ll come and talk to Papa this evening after supper.”

“I’ll see,” Elinor replied vaguely. She avoided making a promise, for she sincerely doubted she would go anywhere but to her rooms after the evening meal.

Reggie gave her a suspicious glance. “If you don’t appear by eight o’clock, I promise Father and I will come here to see you.”

From the determined look in Reggie’s eyes, Elinor knew the girl would carry out her promise. “You might consider giving me until eight-thirty. I’ll need to wash and dry the dishes and complete some preparations for tomorrow’s breakfast.”

Reggie gave a quick nod. “Eight-thirty,” she said with authority.

They walked to the door, and before turning to leave, Reggie wrapped her arms around the older woman’s waist. She hugged her with a fervor that surprised even Elinor. “We’ll find an answer—I just know it,” Reggie insisted.

Elinor returned the hug but remained silent. She didn’t want to build Reggie’s hope, for she already knew the answer. Come the end of September, she would be packed and on her way to Maine. In fact, she decided, she must pen a letter to Taylor and Bella first thing in the morning.

Reggie ran home at breakneck speed and rushed into her father’s cluttered library. She came to a skidding halt in front of his desk and deposited her lunch pail atop one of the many stacks of papers covering his writing desk.

“We must do something about Mrs. Brighton,” she panted, doubling forward to catch her breath.

Her father jumped to his feet and rounded the desk. “Is she ill? What’s happened?” he asked while grabbing his felt hat from a hook at the doorway.

“She’s not ill—she’s leaving.”

The hat slipped from his fingers and dropped to the floor. “
What?
Who told you such a thing?”

Reggie sat down in one of the uncomfortable wooden chairs. “Mrs. Brighton—just now. I stopped after school and she was crying. She received a notice from the Corporation this morning that her boardinghouse will close at the end of the month. She says there’s nothing left for her to do but move to Maine.”

Her father picked up the hat and dropped it back over the hook before sitting down. He rested his face in his hands and said nothing.

“Are you praying?” she whispered.

“I’m thinking . . . though I
should
be praying,” he replied, lifting his face and meeting her intent gaze.

“We’ve prayed every night that Mrs. Brighton’s boardinghouse wouldn’t close, but God isn’t listening.”

“He’s listening, Reggie. Remember what I’ve told you over and over? We don’t always receive the answers we want—and perhaps this isn’t even God’s answer. Mrs. Brighton’s outcome isn’t determined just yet.”

Reggie looked straight into her father’s eyes. “I don’t want her to leave—I love her. Besides you, she’s the only one who has ever really cared about me since Mama died. We need to think of some way to keep her in Lowell. I told her you would find an answer and that she must come here this evening.”

Her father startled to attention. “You believe I’ll have a resolution for this dilemma by seven or eight o’clock tonight?”

“Eight-thirty,” she said with a broad smile. “That gives you even more time than you expected.”

“I certainly feel much better with that extra half hour,” he replied as he glanced toward the ticking clock on his desk.

Reggie stood up and grasped her lunch pail in one hand. “I’ll go begin supper and you can begin thinking—and praying,” she added quickly.

“If you expect an answer by eight-thirty,
you
had best pray also,” he called after her.

She giggled. “I’ll pray while I peel the potatoes, but I’ll keep my eyes open.”

“I’m sure God will not object to your safety measures.”

The girls had completed their evening meal when Elinor sat down at the head of the table. “Before any of you rush off, I want to share some news with you.”

Mary Margaret looked up from her plate of half-eaten food. “Sure and I’m hopin’ it’s something good. I do na think I can bear more bad news today.”

“Did you have problems at work today?” Elinor inquired.

Mary Margaret nodded as she toyed with the food on her plate. “Aye. Mr. Dempsey gave me my termination papers as I was leaving today. He said I’m na to come back after I pick up my pay on Saturday. He had other papers in his hand, so I know I’m na the only one, though I was pleased ta know Bridgett did na lose her position.”

“I’m so sorry, Mary Margaret. I fear when you need assistance the very most, I’ll not be able to lend a helping hand. My boardinghouse will be closed at the end of this month. For those of you still holding positions at the mills, you’ll need to find another house—and that should prove easy enough with so many girls losing their jobs. And for those of you who have remained here since your termination, I fear you must seek other accommodations here in Lowell or depart for home.”

There was a collective hum of disapproval toward the Corporation and sympathetic encouragement for both Elinor and Mary Margaret.

“If the Corporation closes a boardinghouse and we’re required to move, I think they should send someone to move our trunks for us,” Janet said while clicking open the jeweled watch fastened to her bodice.

Elinor stared at the girl. Although she and Reggie had been steadfastly praying for Janet, there appeared to be little change in the girl’s heart. Obviously much more prayer was needed! Elinor gathered a stack of dishes and strode off to the kitchen, silently uttering a prayer for Janet. She was about to return when she heard Mary Margaret confront Janet.

“Ya’re worried about someone ta lift yar trunks while the rest of us are concerned about losin’ our livelihood?”

“Moving heavy trunks up and down all these steps is difficult,” Janet whined.

“Have ya considered asking yar friend Mr. Dempsey ta help ya?” Mary Margaret asked. “I’m thinking he oughta be pleased to lend ya a hand.”

“What does
that
mean? Are you insinuating Mr. Dempsey shows me favoritism?”

“I’m thinking ya both perform too many favors for one another—especially with him being a married man as well as your supervisor,” Mary Margaret replied hastily.

Elinor heard the scraping of a chair against the floor. Janet’s angry voice followed. “The Corporation should never have begun hiring
your
kind in the mills.”

“Ya do na like me because I speak the truth. But since I no longer have a position at the mills, I can speak without fear of retribution. So if ya’re embarrassed to have the truth spoken aloud, Janet, then ya ought change yar ways,” Mary Margaret stated, her voice rising in volume.

Elinor entered the room to find three of the girls applauding while another giggled as Janet trounced off. There was little doubt they were pleased someone had finally confronted Janet about her inappropriate behavior. But an air of gloom quickly replaced their giggles. Although Janet had received her comeuppance, they still faced troubling circumstances. Elinor began to gather another stack of dishes. “Have you any plans, Mary Margaret?”

Her red curls swayed back and forth as she shook her head. “I have na told anyone else. Paddy is ta call on me later tonight. I’m hoping he can give me some advice.”

“I’m sure he can.” Elinor glanced around the table. “Has Janet already left for town?” she asked, hoping no one would realize she’d eavesdropped on the group earlier.

“I’m na certain if she’s left or still upstairs primping,” Mary Margaret replied.

Elinor ignored Mary Margaret’s curt remark as she surveyed the group of worried boarders gathered around the dining room table. “I want all of you girls to know you will be in my prayers. I trust you will pray for each other and for me as well. I have an appointment later this evening, and I must finish washing these dishes before I depart.”

An hour later, Elinor removed her stained apron, patted her hair into place, and removed her cape from the wooden hook inside the doorway. Confusion jumbled her thoughts as she made the short walk to the parsonage. The front door swung open as she reached the top step. Before her stood Justin and Reggie sporting their coats and hats.

Reggie smiled broadly as she caught sight of Elinor. “I thought you weren’t coming.”

“You were leaving to come to the boardinghouse?”

“I told you if you weren’t here by eight-thirty, we would come.”

“But it’s just now eight-thirty.”

“I knew we’d see you along the way if you had already left the house,” she said with a shrug.

Elinor laughed at the child’s determination as she followed the two into the house. Reggie took Elinor’s cloak and carefully hung it alongside her father’s coat and her own blue cape.

“All of our coats hanging in a row look very nice together,” the child commented. “Why don’t you and Father go into the parlor, and I’ll bring our tea. I had begun to prepare it earlier, but then when I thought you weren’t coming . . .”

“Tea would be lovely, thank you,” Elinor said.

Elinor and Justin sat down in the parlor as Reggie scurried to the kitchen.

“Reggie tells me you received notice the boardinghouse will close this month,” Justin started. “I’m sure you haven’t come to a decision, and I think it would be wise if you would take these final days to consider all of your options before immediately hurrying off to Maine.”

“
All
of my options? I can’t possibly remain in Lowell now. With the decline of the mills and so many women out of work, there are no positions available for anyone with my skills in the immediate area.” Elinor could see Reggie’s arm as the girl stood just on the other side of the doorway.

“There must be something. You’ve said in the past that you truly do not want to move and that you’re not anxious to move into your brother’s household.”