Courting Miss Adelaide. Janet Dean

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ but no matter what, she would not let them see her cry.

      Mr. Wylie opened the door. “I’m sorry,” he murmured again.

      Unable to speak, she nodded an acknowledgment. Head high, she strode through the door into the waiting area, past her staring neighbors, and into the courthouse corridor, holding herself together with the strength of a well-honed will.

      Every step pounded in her head, reiterating again and again and again. I failed. I failed. I failed.

      In the hallway, she sidestepped a couple blocking her path.

      “Please, Ed, we can’t replace our boy. I’d like a girl—”

      “A boy is what we agreed on,” the man snapped. “I’m trying to put this family back together, and all you do is whine.”

      The woman’s gaze darted to Adelaide, and then dropped to the floor. Frances. Before Adelaide could greet her, Frances followed her husband to the door. Ed turned to open it, giving Adelaide a glimpse of his face. Anger blazed in his eyes. Then, like a shade dropping over a window, he controlled his expression, leaving his countenance smooth and pleasant.

      “Miss Crum,” he said, giving her a friendly nod.

      Adelaide couldn’t believe this irate man could be the same person who’d picked her up after a childhood tumble and declared she’d be fine. All these years later, she still remembered his kindness, the gentle way he’d cleaned her scrapes with the red bandanna he’d dampened at a nearby pump.

      Losing their son must have changed him. Whatever the cause, if Ed carried that much anger, the Drummonds shouldn’t be considered for a child. But they probably would be, since marriage seemed to be the committee’s only condition.

      The pain of the rejection tore through her. Adelaide bolted for the entrance. She shoved open the heavy door, gulping in air. As she started down the steps, low-slung clouds released their moisture, spattering her face as if nature shed the tears she would not weep. Lightning zigzagged overhead and thunder rumbled, then the sky burst under the weight of its watery load.

      In the deluge, her sodden garments grew heavy, but didn’t slow her progress. With both hands, she hiked her skirts and hustled across the street. As she trudged to the back of her shop, closed for this momentous day, the mud grabbed at her shoes. Her shoulders heaving with exertion, she pried the dirty shoes from her feet and dropped them outside the door, indifferent she’d ruined their fine leather. Then climbed the stairs to her quarters above the shop.

      She removed her soggy skirt, and then wilted onto the bed, dropping her hat on the floor. A curtain of rain veiled the window, darkening the room. Her mother’s words echoed in her head. It’s a man’s world, Adelaide. If you think otherwise, you’re in for a rude awakening.

      Today, four men had found her unworthy to rear a child. She’d built a successful business, had taken care of herself and her invalid mother, and all without a man’s help. But what she wanted most, a child and family, she couldn’t have without a man, without a committee of men.

      “Why, Lord? Why was the answer no?” No reply came.

      There would be no little girl to sew for, no little girl to love. No little girl, period.

      A sob ripped through her, then a piercing wail. She burrowed her face in the pillow to muffle the sound, but then remembered she had no one to hear. No one to see. No one to care.

      The dam she’d built to hold back her emotions crumbled, releasing a flood of tears. As she wept, spasms shook her body until, long minutes later, exhaustion quieted her. Every part of her echoed with hollowness, emptiness. For the first time in her thirty-one years, she felt old. Old, with the hope squeezed out of her.

      But then she remembered Mr. Graves’s wink.

      Somehow the gesture had united them against the others. He appeared to have confidence in her ability to mother a child. Like butter on a burn, the thought soothed her wounded heart.

      But even if no one else did, Adelaide had faith in herself. And even a stronger faith in God. God would sustain her.

      What if the committee’s decision wasn’t God’s final word?

      At the thought, Adelaide sat up on the bed. Her chest swelled with hope and her mind wrapped around a fresh determination. The committee’s rules weren’t etched in stone like the Ten Commandments. She’d never believed all the conventions in her world concurred with God’s plan. Until she knew in the core of her being God didn’t want her to mother a child, she would not give up hope. She would believe a child waited for her, waited for the comfort of Adelaide’s arms.

      Charles couldn’t get the memory of Miss Crum out of his mind. He wished he hadn’t agreed to sit on this committee. He wanted no part in impersonating God. No part in causing the kind of pain he’d read on Miss Crum’s face.

      If Charles understood anything, he understood pain.

      He forced his attention back to the discussion, chagrined to discover everyone looking at him, waiting for him to speak. “I’m sorry. Would you repeat that?”

      “We were saying the Drummonds have the ability to train a boy in farmwork. They lost their only child to a stove fire a few years back. A terrible tragedy.”

      Charles examined the burly man and his timid wife. From the little he’d listened to, Mr. Drummond had done all the talking. The man seemed affable enough, but during the interview, his wife had avoided eye contact. Perhaps she was merely shy. “Mrs. Drummond, you haven’t said. Do you want a boy, too?”

      She looked to her husband, hesitating a moment. “I’d be open to a girl.” Her voice quavered, but for the first time she met Charles’s eyes. He saw a flicker of hope, and something else, something that gnawed at his memory. Before he could identify it, she lowered her gaze.

      Mr. Wylie checked a list. “We’ve been told to expect a brother and sister. Would you be willing to take both of them?”

      Mrs. Drummond’s gaze darted to her husband.

      “How old are they?” Mr. Drummond asked.

      “The boy is ten, the girl is, let’s see…” Wylie scanned a paper in front of him. “Seven.”

      Mr. Drummond rubbed his chin. “Two pair of hands would be a help,” he said, considering. Then he smiled. “The missus would like a girl. We’ll take them both.”

      “Excellent. We don’t want to split up siblings unless we have no choice.”

      Mr. Drummond nodded. “Family means everything. Husband, wife…” He hesitated, his tone emotional. “Children. Nothing should divide a family.”

      Mr. Wylie pushed the papers away and looked at Charles. “Any objections, Mr. Graves?”

      The couple had the proper references, had said all the right words, but what did that prove? The entire exercise was ludicrous. But perhaps no more so than nature’s method of selecting parents guaranteed they’d be adequate for the job.

      Yet some kind of sixth sense twisted a lump in his throat, made him hesitate, but just as quickly, he dismissed it. The others knew them, had greeted them warmly.

      For СКАЧАТЬ