Love's First Bloom Read online

  Love’s First Bloom

  Copyright © 2010

  Mary Lechleidner

  Cover design by John Hamilton Design

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  Published by Bethany House Publishers

  11400 Hampshire Avenue South

  Bloomington, Minnesota 55438

  Bethany House Publishers is a division of

  Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan.

  Printed in the United States of America

  * * *

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Parr, Delia.

  Love’s first bloom / Delia Parr.

  p. cm.

  ISBN 978-0-7642-0671-9 (pbk.)

  1. Clergy—Fiction. 2. Trials (Murder)—Fiction. 3. Children of clergy— Fiction. 4. Journalists—Fiction. I. Title.

  PS3566.A7527L68 2010

  813'.54—dc22

  2010014684

  * * *

  Dedicated to

  “The Shell Point Girls”

  on

  Anna Maria Island, Florida,

  who welcomed me into their homes

  and now have a special place

  in my heart.

  Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Thirty-Five

  Thirty-Six

  Thirty-Seven

  Thirty-Eight

  Thirty-Nine

  Forty

  The Seashell

  More Heartwarming Romance from Delia Parr

  One

  March 1838

  New York City

  Ruth Livingstone had very little time left to change her father’s mind.

  After a hasty ride through dark, deserted streets, she parted the curtains on the coach window while waiting for Capt. Grant to arrive. Moonlight rested on the Sheller, a packet ship that was lying at anchor in the harbor. She blinked back tears. Unless Ruth could sway her father’s decision, the morning tide would carry her far from home, along with Lily, the sleeping toddler now nestled against her father’s chest.

  She dropped the curtain and swiped at her tears. Even though he had rejected every one of her arguments since rousing her from bed two hours ago and telling her she had to leave, she prayed she still might get him to agree to let her stay home with him.

  “Please, Father,” she whispered. “When Capt. Grant gets here, tell him your plans have changed so you can take another day or two to find someone else.”

  Seated directly across from her, Rev. Gersham Livingstone cradled the sleeping child and shook his head. “I don’t have another day or two, Ruth.”

  “But I don’t understand why I must go when you have so many supporters who would be better suited—”

  “You’re the only one I can trust to take Lily away and keep her safe,” he insisted, keeping his voice low.

  “But what if Capt. Grant questions me? What am I supposed to say if he sees that I’m not this … this Widow Ruth Malloy that he expects?”

  “I told you. Capt. Grant never meets any of the women he helps me to relocate before sailing. At least you get to keep your given name,” he added.

  Frustrated, Ruth found it hard to be grateful for keeping her first name when she was giving up so much else. “What about the Garners? Surely they’ll suspect that I’m not—”

  “Elias and Phanaby Garner will accept you without question when you arrive. In turn, they’ll introduce you to the community as a distant relative whose period of mourning is over and is in need of a home. I explained all this to you on the way here,” he gently chided.

  Dropping her gaze, she swallowed hard. According to her father, the Garners did not know that the real name of the woman they were expecting had been Rosalie Peale, the wellknown prostitute found murdered some days ago. Or that the child in the reverend’s arms was in fact Rosalie Peale’s secret daughter.

  The very idea they would think Ruth was a former prostitute … Oh, it both shamed and humiliated her as a woman of faith. Being the daughter of a controversial minister who devoted his life to the fallen angels of the city had never been easy, but Ruth found it terribly ironic that the only way she could support him now was to become one of his reclaimed fallen angels herself.

  Desperate to change his mind, Ruth tried another tack, keeping her voice to a whisper to keep from waking the little girl. “The constable can’t seriously think you could have killed Rosalie Peale,” she argued, unable to fathom that anyone would consider him capable of murder.

  “Indeed he shouldn’t, but the press has fueled public clamor for an arrest that should have been made days ago.”

  She snorted. “The reporters who’ve surrounded our house from dawn to dusk for the past two days are even worse than the scoundrels you allowed inside to interview you. Have they no sense of decency?”

  “Decency doesn’t sell newspapers,” he replied. Her father placed a hand on her shoulder. “Instead of being angry about a situation we can’t control, we should be grateful that my lawyer was able to persuade the constable to give me time to put my affairs in order before arresting me.”

  She placed her hand on top of her father’s and blinked back more tears. “But you’re innocent! It isn’t fair!”

  “It’s not fair for Lily to bear the stain of her mother’s sins, either, but she will—unless we can get her out of the city before anyone finds out about her, especially one of those reporters. Unfortunately,” Rev. Livingstone added wistfully, “many people, even people we know well, actually believe everything they read in the newspapers. They don’t need to wait for a trial to convict me.”

  Ruth’s heartbeat slowed to a thud that pounded against the wall of her chest. She tried not to think of their several neighbors who had closed their hearts, as well as their doors, to both her and her father in recent days. Even Harrison Steward, her father’s closest friend, had abandoned him, refusing any contact.

  For several long moments she allowed herself a time of self-pity, until she realized her father would pay a far greater price, even beyond losing the affection of their neighbors or even his dearest friend.

  He would pay with his very life.

  Her father edged forward in his seat to get closer to her. “The path God chooses for each of us to follow isn’t always an easy one, but we all have to decide whether or not we’re willing to trust in His wisdom and embrace His will. I can’t risk letting the glare of scandal that’s already churning in the press to shine upon this innocent child. Can you?” He gently urged the sleeping child into Ruth’s arms.

  Ruth awkwardly cradled the little girl close for fear she would wake up. “No, I-I can’t. I’ll go. I’ll take care of her,” she whispered
, then tensed when she heard two soft raps on the coach door.

  Her father answered by parting the curtain only long enough to nod and drop the curtain back into place before cupping her cheek. “It’s time to go now, Ruth. With God’s grace, I’ll be exonerated quickly. Then I’ll send for you, and we’ll make more permanent arrangements for Lily. Until then, God will take care of you both. Trust in Him.”

  Ruth managed half a smile. As more tears slipped free, she kissed the palm of her father’s hand, pressing the memory of this moment deep within her heart. When he turned her hand over and kissed its back, she felt his tears, too.

  Quietly, without saying another word, he disembarked. Ruth gathered her courage. Once she stepped out of this coach, she would have to swallow her pride and silently bear the mantle of a sinful past she had not lived.

  Two

  Toms River, New Jersey

  “Please don’t throw your food, Lily,” Ruth cautioned for the third time, gritting her teeth to keep from crying out in frustration. As she wiped a glob of soggy bread from her own forehead with the tip of her apron, she laid her other hand atop the toddler’s hands to keep them still.

  Three weeks ago when she first arrived here, Ruth knew her faith would be tested while she waited anxiously for her father’s innocence to be recognized in a court of law.

  Hiding the truth of her real identity, and allowing the middle-aged couple who had opened their home to her to believe she was a former prostitute, had been just as hard as she had expected it would be.

  She’d had no idea, however, that her greatest challenge would come from twenty-two pounds of pure mischief disguised as the eighteen-month-old toddler sitting directly in front of her. With bright blue eyes and a mop of unruly blond ringlets, the slender toddler was a pretty, delicate little girl who had a mind of her own, a will to match, and one favorite word: no.

  With her eyes dancing, Lily tugged her hands free and smeared bread soggy with gravy all over her face and through her curls.

  “Mercy!” Ruth cried. “You need another bath for certain now.”

  Giggling, little Lily clapped her hands, sending drops of gravy in all directions. “Bath! Me. Bath!”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Ruth caught a glimpse of the smile on Phanaby Garner’s face and heard the woman catch a giggle of her own before turning back to stir the pot of fish chowder bubbling on the cookstove.

  Exceptionally tall and uncommonly thin, the middle-aged woman was still just as patient and good-humored as she had been from the moment she and her husband had welcomed both Ruth and little Lily into their home. The heat from the cookstove today added a flush of pink to her cheeks, and wisps of hair that escaped from the tight bun she wore at the nape of her neck curled around her narrow face to soften her sharp features.

  Without a word of complaint, Phanaby set down her spoon and gracefully sidestepped her way around the food Lily had thrown to the floor. After moistening a fresh rag, she carried it back with her, stopped in front of Ruth, and smiled. “There’s a bit of gravy in your hair, too,” she said and gently dabbed at Ruth’s hairline. “There! All gone now,” she pronounced and handed the cloth to Ruth. “I’ll heat up some water for Lily’s bath while you clean up her tray and the floor.”

  Truly exhausted, although it was barely midday, Ruth groaned. “I’m so sorry she’s made such a mess again.”

  “Bath! Bath!” Lily cried and smacked both palms on the tray of her baby chair, splashing gravy onto the sleeves of the last clean gown Ruth had left.

  Phanaby giggled out loud this time and gazed at Lily. “I never knew a baby who loved a bath as much as you do.”

  “Or needed one so often, I suspect,” Ruth quipped as she swiped at the mess on her sleeves. Wondering if she would have the energy to keep up with this little mite the rest of the day, she got down on all fours and started wiping up the floor.

  “I don’t know about that,” Phanaby argued as she pumped fresh water into a pot. “Jane Canfield used to dunk her three boys in the river several times a day to clean them up when they were about this age, or so she claimed.”

  Ruth sat back on her haunches and pushed back a lock of hair that escaped to block her view. “In the river?”

  Phanaby carried the pot over to the cookstove. “The river’s warm enough come full summer.”

  “Have I met Mrs. Canfield?” Ruth asked, resuming her task.

  “No, the Canfields moved west a long time ago. Jane was a sweet woman and a good friend. Mr. Garner enjoyed her husband’s company, too. They had a cabin on the south side of the river at the time, but she brought the boys to visit whenever they came into the village.” She set the pot on the cookstove. “She had the prettiest little flower garden not too far from the cabin on a little finger of land that poked into the river. Her flowers bloomed there from spring until fall. I still look for them each spring, but the garden and the cabin have been empty since they left.”

  “Bath! Bath!” Lily cried as she tried to squirm out of her seat, interrupting a flash of Ruth’s own childhood memories. She fondly recalled the tiny flower garden her mother had kept behind their home in the city before death had claimed her—and a series of housekeepers had let the garden go to weeds.

  “A bath you shall have, little miss, and then you’ll be off to take a fine nap so we can all eat our dinner in peace. I hope,” Ruth added.

  Once she had both Lily and the tray wiped clean, she set the dirtied cloth aside, then hoisted Lily to her hip and covered another yawn. “I’m sorry Lily was so restless again last night,” she said, offering one more apology to the countless ones she had given for the past three weeks for Lily’s behavior.

  Phanaby offered Ruth a gentle smile. “It’s no bother. Like I’ve told you, Mr. Garner wouldn’t wake up if a hurricane swept through the house, and I sleep nearly as soundly. She’ll surely take a good nap this afternoon, and you look like you might need a bit of rest today yourself. You couldn’t have gotten much sleep last night, either.”

  She lifted Lily out of Ruth’s arms and into her own. “Poor Lily,” she said, rocking from side to side. “She’s probably teething a bit. Did you use the remedy Mr. Garner made for her?”

  Ruth nodded. “I rubbed it on her gums whenever she woke up, just like he said, but she still didn’t fall back into a sound sleep for very long.”

  “Then she’s probably still not accustomed to sleeping in a trundle bed,” Phanaby murmured before pressing her cheek to the top of the toddler’s head. “Do you miss your crib, sweet baby? I’ll try harder to find one for you,” she crooned as Lily relaxed against her shoulder.

  “Please don’t bother yourself. The trundle bed is fine for now,” Ruth offered, hoping and praying that her father’s trial, which had started just last week, would soon end with his acquittal and he would send word that it was safe to bring Lily back to the city.

  “It’s no bother. In fact, I’m a bit embarrassed that we didn’t have a crib here for you when you arrived. It’s just that … well, we thought Lily was a bit older than she is,” she murmured as she stirred the chowder and Lily played with the collar of her gown. She glanced over her shoulder to look at Ruth. “You’re quite a bit younger, too,” she said, without a glimmer of judgment in her voice.

  Blushing, Ruth dropped her gaze. With every bone and muscle in her body yearning for a good night’s sleep, Ruth felt like ninety-two instead of twenty-two, yet the love and understanding in the woman’s eyes was so intense, she nearly forgot how physically tired she was.

  Instead, her spirit ached and tugged at her heartstrings, yet again, for deceiving this generous, loving woman and her husband and not telling them the truth: Ruth had not been a fallen angel, selling her body to anyone with enough coins while living at Mrs. Browers’s brothel. A brothel where no one, even Mrs. Browers, knew she’d had a child. And she had not paid another woman to take Lily into her home and care for her for the past year and a half.

  She was Ruth, Rev. Livingstone’s
daughter, a woman of virtue and faith who longed for the life she had left behind and the father she dearly loved.

  “You’re a good woman, Ruth, and you can be a good mother to Lily,” Phanaby encouraged. “I know it’s been hard learning how to care for her yourself,” she said, reminding Ruth that she knew about the arrangements under which she and this little one had allegedly lived, without judging her for it. “It’ll get easier once the two of you really get to know one another. Just trust yourself. Trust in God and know that both Mr. Garner and I are here to help you, too, so you won’t ever have to be separated from each other again.”

  “I-I know … and I thank you both. For … for everything,” she managed, humbled by the example of faith and generosity this woman and her husband had set before her.

  Phanaby’s eyes misted. “You’re very, very welcome,” she managed before turning away. “This water still needs a good bit of time to warm. I’ll keep an eye on this little cherub for you. While I do, why don’t you go downstairs to the apothecary and remind Mr. Garner that dinner will be ready in about half an hour. Otherwise he’s likely to leave to deliver some compound or another, especially now that the weather has turned fair again. By now, I’m sure you’ve noticed how oblivious he can be to the hour when he’s working.”

  Ruth smiled. Mr. Garner was so devoted to his customers, he might seem almost possessed by his work at times, but his girth alone provided ample evidence that he was never too devoted or too preoccupied to forget to be at the table at mealtime. “Of course. I’ll be right back. By then the water should be warm enough that I can give Lily her bath and get her settled down before dinner.”

  Lily turned and stretched toward the sink. “Bath! Bath!”

  Ruth patted Lily’s back. “Yes, baby. As soon as I get back,” she promised and headed for the stairs at the end of the hallway that led to the back of the family’s living quarters above the apothecary. She paused and smiled as she looked out the window at the top of the enclosed staircase that led down to the first floor.

  Finally, after ten long, gray days, the relentless rain that had pelted the village had stopped. The sun, sitting bright and high in a cloudless blue sky, reflected off the bows of several packet ships sitting heavy in the river, waiting to be unloaded at the docks several blocks away.