Where Trust Lies (9781441265364) (16 page)

With rather halfhearted interest, the remainder of the afternoon included one last jaunt into the countryside. Beth watched the bright colors of the picturesque island sweep past the train windows. She made a point of moving from seat to seat to chat with each of the family by turn—nothing particularly profound but pleasant conversations.

“I'd like to come back here again,” announced Victoria, her arm hanging out the open window, the hand opening and closing in the stream of passing air. “I want more time at the ocean.”

“Yes, let's,” her mother agreed contentedly. “I believe your father would find it most pleasurable. I think he would even enjoy the beach.”

Beth borrowed the camera from Julie, snapping several scenes in hopes of retaining the images of the island.
Perhaps Julie will
be willing to refer to them once we're home.

Back in the hotel lobby, they found their suitcases packed up again by their maids and ready for their return to the ship. Monsieur Laurent was looking at his pocket watch. “I can't hold the taxis much longer.” As usual, Mrs. Montclair was not yet in sight.

Suddenly Beth heard her name called. “Page for Miss Elizabeth Thatcher. Page for Miss Elizabeth Thatcher.”

“I'm Elizabeth Thatcher.” She raised her hand to a uniformed young man now making his way toward her with a smile.

“Miss Thatcher.” He bowed slightly. “There is a telephone call holding for you at the receptionist's desk.”

Beth's eyes grew large. She shot a glance at Margret and hurried across the wide floor.

“I'm Elizabeth Thatcher,” she repeated to the clerk. “Is there a call for me?”

“Why, yes, Miss Thatcher”—he motioned—“the last telephone at the very end of the desk.”

Beth raised the receiver with a trembling hand.
It could be anyone. There's no reason to assume . . .
“Hello?”

“Beth! I can't believe I caught you. It's Jarrick. I'm so glad—”

“Oh, Jarrick, I thought I'd missed your call entirely.” Her heart fluttered at the sound of his voice.

He laughed. “Actually, you did. I tried to call earlier today too. But I guess you were out and about. How are you? How has your trip gone so far? Are you enjoying yourselves?”

“It's been . . . wonderful.” The one-word description was far from adequate, but she rushed on. “We're on Prince Edward Island just now.” The comment brought a laugh. “But then you already knew that.”

“Yes, I presumed you were,” he joked. “I've always wanted to visit there. Philip has an aunt in Nova Scotia, and the two of us have often talked of traveling east together. We've just never found a good time to go.”

“Oh, I wish you were here now,” Beth heard herself saying and felt her cheeks grow warm. “It's well worth it. I hope you can sometime.” Beth paused, scrambling through her mind for a topic of more importance. “Did you get any of my letters? I've written more than one.”

“No, I haven't. And I've been watching the mail every day, as you might imagine.” She could hear the warmth in his voice.

“Oh, they should start to come soon. I'm surprised since I've gotten three from you already.”

“Maybe tomorrow,” he said hopefully.

“We went to the beach yesterday, and I even went into the water! We did some sightseeing by train. There's plenty more to do here—we haven't seen any of the shipbuilding yards, which I would have enjoyed. We were supposed to do that this morning, and then something came up.” For a moment Beth considered sharing Margret's news, but decided against it. “We're heading out now to our ship again. It departs this evening.”

“And where are you off to next?” His words sounded almost wistful.

“Nova Scotia. We'll make a stop in Cape Breton, travel northeast around the island, then head back south toward Halifax. Oh, Jarrick, I just wrote to you last night. I posted the letter this morning.”

He cleared his throat. “Don't tell me what it says, Beth. I want it to be a surprise.”

She smiled. “I'm afraid it's quite nostalgic. It was a somewhat disappointing day—an emotion-filled one.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.”

Beth's eyes lifted toward the ceiling. She knew her expression was anything but guarded, but she could not seem to constrain her feelings, the strange mixture of pleasure and discontent that speaking with Jarrick—so far away—generated. “It was mostly good things, I suppose, but for the missed telephone connection. I'll admit it cast a pretty long shadow over my mood all day.”

“I understand that, believe me, I do.” The tone of his voice was almost more than she could bear, and she quickly blinked back tears.

Mrs. Montclair was emerging from the elevator. Beth turned toward where the others were waiting, now assembled and ready to leave. Monsieur Laurent was watching her intently.

“I'm afraid I can't talk further, Jarrick. Everyone is waiting, and we're overdue catching a taxi. I'm sorry. I wish—”

“It's all right, Elizabeth. I'll do a better job of arranging things next time. I'm sorry I botched it yesterday.”

“Oh, it's not your fault, I'm sure. The connection just didn't come through.”

“Well, I shouldn't have given you a set time. I should have . . . I don't know. But I'll figure out something better for next time. Where and when is the next good time to call?”

Beth could see Monsieur checking his pocket watch again. “I'm not sure. Halifax, I suppose. But I don't know which day—”

“Your father gave me the first two main stops. Will you mail me a schedule, Beth? I know that'll take a week to arrive, but I'd sure like to know where you are along the way.”

Beth flushed. “Of course. I should have thought of it sooner.”

Mother waved, and Beth said, “I'm so very sorry, Jarrick. I'm afraid I truly do have to go.”

“Beth?” he hurried. “Please—I wanted to tell you something first. Two men from the provincial school board were in Coal Valley on Monday. They were taking stock of your little town to see about opening a school there.”

“What? Why, that's wonderful!”

“I knew you'd want to know. Your name came up in almost every conversation they had with folks in town. Miss Molly was laughing about it when she told me all who were boasting
that they were the person who had suggested you be contacted for the position.”

Beth drew in a slow breath. “I'm so grateful. That's just the best news!”

“Yes, I think so too. Well, I just wanted you to know.” A pause. “I miss you, Beth.” Her breath caught in her throat. “It's not at all the same here without you.”

“I miss you too,” she whispered. Her heart was aching and exulting all in the same moment. “It won't last long. We'll see each other again soon.”

“I know that . . . but not nearly soon enough.”

Beth could feel her pulse still racing as she squeezed into the taxicab beside Julie. A conversation was so much better than a letter. Over and over she replayed Jarrick's words in her mind, reveling in the warm emotion she had heard in his voice. Her hand found her waistband where she had tucked another dried petal inside a hanky that very morning.

M
OTHER
, I'
D
LIKE
TO
SEND
A
TELEGRAM
,”
Beth said quietly on their way to the shipboard breakfast the next morning. “I don't mind paying for it myself, but I'd like to send it this afternoon—that is, if I can figure out how to do so.”

“In regards to what, Beth?”

She didn't let herself hesitate and said forthrightly, “I promised Jarrick I'd send him our port schedule, so we can find another time to speak by telephone.”

“Oh, darling, don't you think that might seem a little forward—too presumptuous, even a bit needy?”

Beth paused a moment. “No, I truly don't believe so. He and I discussed it and agreed it would be most helpful. Honestly, I don't know why I didn't think of it sooner. And I've already given my word to Jarrick.”

Her mother still looked uncertain, but finally she said, “You'll no doubt be able to find out information on sending telegrams from Monsieur Laurent.”

After breakfast, Mrs. Montclair asked in her sprightly manner, “To where are we off today,
Mr.
Lorant
?”

He cleared his throat. “We'll see a perfectly lovely landscape—Cape Breton Island. It truly has some of the nicest scenery in all the Maritimes. We're to visit an offshore lighthouse there and, Victoria,” he added, turning to the girl, “we can expect to cross paths with any number of wildlife today. I'm sure you'll be very pleased.”

The teenager sat upright, looking determined. “Mother, I simply
must
have a set of binoculars. I won't see a
thing
if I don't.” The extra bit of dramatics had Beth hiding a smile behind her napkin.

“Yes, dear. I suppose it's time to give up on the others as a lost cause.” Mrs. Montclair shook her head and reached down under the table to rub at her knee. “I suppose then,
Mr.
Lorant
, that there will be a great deal of walking? My bursitis is acting up again. I'm afraid I must keep off my feet for a day or two.”

“Oh, Edith, won't you even see the lighthouse? I'm sure you'd enjoy that.”

These table discussions had become rather similar from one day to the next, and Beth found her mind wandering.
When will Jarrick and I be able to talk again?
She couldn't help but mull over yesterday's conversation once again.
Hopefully in Halifax . . .

Cape Breton Island came into view, its long coast like folds of a deep green blanket trimmed in brown where it touched the water's edge. Beth stood in the sunshine on the stateroom balcony, the wind tugging at her dress. They were still far from the point of the tender's departure when Mother took Beth and Julie aside. “Now, my dears, I said yesterday that I'd like to meet this young man—Nick, was it? I would like to get to know all these friends of yours. We've hardly even spoken to
those girls. What would you say to inviting the three to lunch with us today? Monsieur says the lodge on the island serves a decent enough luncheon.”

“Oh, yes, Mother—that's a wonderful idea!” Julie was enthralled. “I'm sure they'd like to meet you too.”

“Fine, then. Would you please find them before we debark and make the invitation, Julie?”

“Of course. They're probably up by the pool. I'll go right now.” She nearly skipped her way out the door of the suite, her mother shaking her head with a long sigh.

Beth turned to follow Julie out into the hallway. The copy of the port schedule had been delivered by Monsieur Laurent, and the office would probably be open by now so she could send the telegram.
Won't he be surprised . . . and
pleased!

“One moment, Beth,” her mother said, interrupting her thoughts. “I'd like to speak with you alone, please.”

“What is it, Mother?”

Mother motioned to a nearby chair and took the other beside it. She paused. “I feel that perhaps I should know more about the status of your relationship with this man, this officer. I had no idea you had become so familiar with one another in a very short amount of time. You had said he first spoke to you about keeping in touch just before you left your little mining town.”

“Yes. But, you see, by that time we already knew each other quite well.”

“I see. When we spoke while we were still at home, you knew little about his background and his family.”

“Yes, I suppose that's true.”

“There are any number of questions I wonder if you've considered.”

Beth could feel her face growing warm.
If only Mother could
meet him.
She was certain that would put an end to her worries.

“Please understand, darling,” Mother continued, “I'm speaking only from my deep concern for your well-being. Marriage lasts a long, long time. To be yoked together with someone . . . well, unsuitable would have tragic effects for the whole of one's lifetime, and for every facet of it. It is something to be contemplated soberly, with great care and much prayer.”

“Of course, Mother. I do understand that—and believe it sincerely.” She watched as Mother unconsciously spun her own wedding ring around her finger. “For instance, Beth dear, do you know if he's been engaged before—if he has courted someone previously?”

“I don't believe he . . . no, to be truthful, we never discussed that.” Beth's face grew even warmer at her inability to answer.

“And what of his own parents? Do they have a good marriage, a good family life?”

“His father is a pastor.” Beth was so glad she could provide that piece of positive information.

“My dear,” Mother said softly, “that is no guarantee.”

Beth stiffened. “But if you'd already met him, Mother, I'm certain you wouldn't—”

“You know better than that, Beth. You know that if we
had
already met him, your father and I would have asked all the same questions—had all the same concerns. People can so easily deceive us by their charming demeanor. I am certainly not assuming he's been deceptive, but I would not regard him with such trusting eyes as you seem to be doing. Not yet.”

Beth's heart sank, and she wanted to ask if Mother had trusted Edward Montclair, if she had felt she knew
him
well enough to accept him as an appropriate match for her daughter. Edward, who had a nice enough family, but who was so full of himself and his own importance . . .

Beth stared at her hands twisted together on her lap and remained silent.

“It's not that I want to steal your joy, Beth. I want to see you well-matched in the happiest and most enriching marriage possible, though I know that for every couple there will always be difficulties and hardships to overcome. But that ability to overcome requires a certain compatibility, a bond ‘till death do us part,' and an unshakable faith. These are determined through significant time, through questions being asked before the heart is entirely committed. Do you understand?”

Beth wrestled with the loyalty and respect her mother deserved and the embarrassment she felt at being questioned like this—and, most of all, for not being able to answer well. She recalled those overheard remarks from Mother to Mrs. Montclair on the train at the beginning of their journey, articulating doubts about Jarrick, Beth's health, and her chosen profession.

Mother pressed further. “You've said he grew up on the prairie, but has he always lived there? Or did he spend any time on his own elsewhere as an adult?”

“I don't know,” Beth whispered. “I shall make a point of asking him.”

“And you've said that you think he's thirty or so.”

“Yes.”

“So is it possible he served overseas?”

Beth froze. She had never even contemplated the question. Edward and the other boys she had grown up with had been just young enough to have missed serving in the Great War. They had all helped with the war effort within their community.
Had Jarrick been a part of any actual fighting?
What might he have seen?

She finally said, “It's possible that he served. He's never
mentioned it, though.” Beth hated to admit even to herself that she did not know this.

“We want you to be well informed, Beth—and to know him well ourselves.”

Beth lifted her gaze to her mother's face. “I understand, Mother. I truly do. I see the importance of . . . of going forward with eyes wide open.” She nodded slowly. “I'm sure Jarrick will be more than willing to answer any questions you have of him, or that I have. I'm sure he'll be an open book.” Beth hesitated. “But he's not an employee, Mother. It's a relationship, not an interview.”

“Of course, darling.” Mother rose. “It's far more important than that. This is for a lifetime.”

Grasping at the rail, once again Beth eased herself down into the shuttle. She was able to smile at her traveling companions, but she found it difficult to meet Mother's eyes. She harbored a strange sense of confusion, and she resented the unanswered questions now rattling around in her mind about Jarrick. If only she could speak with him again soon. She was certain he would cooperate fully with any questions she asked, but it was most uncomfortable to realize how little she actually knew about him.
Has he indeed courted a woman in
the past? He is, after all, older than I am. . .
but I don't even know his age for certain!

Beth smoothed her dress and tried to keep her face turned toward the railing and the water beyond, lest her sisters—or anyone else—should read her conflict. The prow bounded up, then down in the waves, aiming toward the white obelisk lighthouse looming larger with every splash. The island on which it stood was merely a tiny, barren patch of rocky ground.

Could it be that Jarrick was able to make her feel so special because he had learned about romance before? She felt her heart squeeze in pain. Then again, he'd said he would be meeting with a gentleman from church to learn to be a good husband. Didn't that count strongly in his favor? Unless it indicated some hidden secret that might put obstacles in their path.

Beth's thoughts fluttered back to her mother's question about service in the army.
If he indeed
served overseas, what scars and memories might he retain? Do
they cast a shadow over his life still?
Beth took a deep breath, tried to slow her racing thoughts.

Mrs. Montclair, Miss Bernard, and JW had stayed behind and fortunately missed the laborious climb up the pinnacle of the lighthouse. The view was breathtaking so long as Beth resisted the urge to look directly down from the dizzying height. The mainland was an emerald jewel set against the clear sky, and several ships were visible in the distance.

The sight reminded Beth of Father. How she wished that he could have joined them here, just for the day. It would have been such a blessing to talk through her dark broodings with him. Beth sighed and moved further around the cupola, shading her eyes to focus her attention on one more outstanding cruise experience. She would make sure Emma took several photographs of the lighthouse to pass around to her students in case Julie didn't complete the task.