The Widow of Larkspur Inn (75 page)

She recalled how grieved he’d felt after opening Fiona’s letter, and even the relief he’d displayed when finally confronted about his part in the ghost prank. And then his being so solicitous of Laurel Phelps after she broke her leg. “He has a good heart, Vicar. He forgets it sometimes.”

“They all forget sometimes. Even we do. But as we discussed a minute ago, this wasn’t an act of willful disobedience on his part. Don’t you think he would obey you if you forbade his playing for keeps from now on? Explaining the reason why, of course.”

“I believe he would.” Anxiety quickened Julia’s heartbeat. “You aren’t advising that I tell him the truth about his father, are you?”

“Why, not at all, Mrs. Hollis,” he replied right away, then shook his head for emphasis. “Perhaps you’ll have to do so one day when he’s grown, but for now, allow the boy to keep his illusions.”

“I’m afraid the illusions are few, Vicar. My husband had little time for his children.”

“Then it’s all the more important that they aren’t destroyed,” he said gently.

“Yes.” They sat wrapped in silence for a while longer, and then Julia became conscious of the time. Ten past five, according to the clock on the wall. She rose to her feet, and he did the same. “They’ll wonder where I am.”

“Won’t you stay for supper? I could ask Luke to deliver a note to the
Larkspur
.”

“Thank you, but I should go speak with Philip now.”

“Yes, of course,” he nodded, then offered his elbow. “But I do insist upon driving you home, Mrs. Hollis.”

“Thank you.” Finally Julia could muster a genuine smile. “For everything, Vicar. You’re a good friend.”

His kind eyes crinkled at the corners. “And so are you, Mrs. Hollis.”

Philip was in his room when Julia arrived back at the
Larkspur.
He sat at his study table, idly moving a knight from square to square on his chessboard, and looked up at her with a masked expression. It was the trembling of his bottom lip that gave him away. She went over to him, leaned down, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Philip. It was wrong of me to humiliate you that way. Please let me tell you how proud I am that you’re my son.”

Much later, after she had said her personal prayers and had turned in for the night, she thought about how sweet was the restored fellowship with her son. While she was at the vicar’s, he had not only returned the taw to the Casper boy, but returned to another boy marbles he’d won from him.
Just like Zaccheus,
she thought, smiling to herself in the darkness.
Thank you, Father,
she prayed again.
And thank you for
Vicar Phelps’s wise counsel
.

“He is such a dear man,” she said aloud.
Did I remember to thank
him?

And then a question cropped up into her mind from seemingly nowhere. Was love something that suddenly swooped down upon a person, like a cold? She mulled that over for a moment.
It did in my
case with Philip. But I know now that was only infatuation
.

What if love wasn’t a mysterious “thing” that capriciously attached itself to whomever it willed? Could it be instead a deliberate choice of action? Jesus had commanded His followers to “love one another.” Would He give such a commandment if people had no control over their ability to love?

And does that mean that romantic love between a man and woman
can be cultivated, just as Mrs. Kingston cultivates her roses?

She recalled standing at a window facing the Anwyl and determining that, like Saint Paul, she would learn contentment. If contentment could be achieved through an act of will, then why couldn’t love? And it would seem that a love purposely cultivated for a man because of his kind nature and comforting ways would eventually grow stronger and deeper than one based on mere physical attraction.

Julia pondered those questions and notions deep into the night. When she awoke the next morning, she expected her mind to be muddled from lack of sleep. Instead, she found that a strange clarity had sharpened her thoughts. She felt like a schoolgirl—one who has finally comprehended long division. Her steps were light all the way down the hall toward the kitchen as a joyful giddiness, a feeling she’d been convinced would never be felt again, surged through her.

Vicar Phelps called that afternoon just after lunch, when Philip and his friends were off accompanying Mr. Ellis on a look-see atop the Anwyl, and Aleda and Grace played in the stables with Buff’s now grown kittens. Julia had somehow known since waking that the vicar would come sometime today. That was not the reason, she told herself as she walked up the corridor to greet him in the hall, that she was wearing her most flattering gown, a sea green silk with a ruffled bodice. Nor was it why she styled her hair in the latest American fashion that had looked so becoming on Elizabeth, clasping the sides at the crown of her head with a comb while the rest hung behind her back.

And the knowing smiles of Mrs. Beemish, Mrs. Dearing, and Miss Rawlins had nothing to do with his asking to speak with her privately after he had exchanged pleasantries with the three. Still, Julia avoided their eyes as she turned to lead him to the library.

When the door closed behind them and they had seated themselves in adjacent chairs, he spoke as she knew he would. While his face seemed tranquil enough, there was unmistakable tension in his voice. “How is Philip?” he asked first.

“Fine,” she replied. “I do so appreciate your counsel. We had a long talk last night.”

“I’m so glad.”

Julia noticed then that he was knotting his fingers together, as Elizabeth was prone to do when nervous.
After all he’s done for you, at
least you could put him at ease,
she told herself. “Vicar?”

“Yes?” he said, straightening in his chair.

She smiled. “I shan’t bite, you know.”

The same stunned look he’d worn the time she told him to hush flashed across his face, followed by a smile and the easing of his posture.

“Thank you, Mrs. Hollis.”

“You’re welcome, Vicar.”

“I wonder if I might speak with you of a personal matter?”

“Yes, of course.”

She could hear him draw in a long breath. “I believe you’re aware of the deep affection I have for you, Mrs. Hollis.”

“Yes, I am.”

“If I may be so bold to ask … how do you feel about me?”

Measuring her words with care, Julia replied, “Next to my children, you’re the dearest person in Gresham to me.”

“I am?” There was an incongruous mixture of disappointment and hope across his kind face as he took another breath. “Mrs. Hollis … I’m well aware that I’m not every woman’s idea of a perfect man. But do you think you might possibly
learn
to love me one day?”

“I have already begun to love you,” she said quietly, firmly. She could not have imagined, even yesterday, that her feelings for him could deepen in so short an amount of time, but she was learning that once a decision is planted firmly in the mind, all the steps fall into place quite rapidly.

He stared at her, seemingly unable to believe his ears. “Does that mean—”he cleared his throat and shifted in his chair—“that you would consider being my wife, Mrs. Hollis?”

“I have already considered it, Vicar. In fact, I thought of little else last night.”

The astonishment in his expression deepened. “Truly?”

“I would be honored to be your wife.”

“Why, yes, that’s …” Suddenly a smile spread across his bearded face. “You cannot imagine how amazed I am. And how delighted.” Leaning forward, he took one of her hands gently in his own. “I will treat your children as my own, Mrs. Hollis, just as I know you will mother my daughters. And you … I will cherish. And I’ll never allow a day to pass without thanking God for you.”

His image became a little blurred as his words found their way into her heart.
I don’t deserve such adoration, but I thank you for it, Father.
“I know that, Vicar.” But then she held up her other hand, lest he get carried away and start making arrangements for the ceremony.

“I only have one request.” She thought for a second. “Two, actually.”

“Anything!” he grinned. “You’ve made me the happiest man alive.”

“The engagement should be long. Several months, at least … perhaps even a year.”

“
That
long?”

“We have daughters, Vicar. And I don’t know how yours reacted to our dear friends’, the Clays, rush into marriage, but mine consider it to be much more romantic than any fairy tale. I believe we should set an example for their sakes.”

His broad shoulders sagged a little with disappointment, but then he gave a reluctant nod. “You’re right, of course. I wouldn’t want Elizabeth getting caught up in the excitement and deciding to marry her curate, when I’m not totally sure of her commitment to him.”

“Thank you for understanding.”

“Oh, well,” he sighed. “Reason must prevail. I believe you said you have two requests.”

“Yes. It would also seem reasonable, since you’re going to begin courting me, that you should kiss me now.”

Complete surprise altered his face. “Why … you’re an astonishing woman, Mrs. Hollis!”

“Does that mean you’d rather not kiss me?”

“It most certainly does not mean that!” He grinned and got to his feet, then took both of her hands and helped her to stand. His kiss was slow, thoughtful, and left her feeling just a bit light-headed as she took a step back with her hands still in his.

“That was rather nice,” she smiled.
And it’s been a long time
.

His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Why not another, Mrs. Hollis?”

“Now, Vicar Phelps,” she teased. “We’ve a whole year.”

“A whole year,” he sighed again.

They sat for a while longer—Julia in her chair and the vicar seated on its arm—perfectly content in each other’s presence. They conversed quietly about many things—their children, the future, and anything else that came to mind.

“You know,” he said after a period of comfortable silence had lapsed, “Napoleon Bonaparte once offered Madame Merieult a castle in exchange for her long red hair. He wanted to have it made into a wig to present to a Turkish sultan.”

Turning her head to look at him, Julia asked, “Well, did she?”