My Heart Belongs in the Blue Ridge, page 26
“I have a lot to share with you and Mother, some surprising developments.”
She laughed. “I love surprises, and I have a few things to share with you too, besides the additional list of brides Father has for your choosing.” She grimaced, crinkling her perfectly tipped nose. “He’s become much more adamant about your future since Charles’s death, almost desperate. There’s been increased talk about his failing business. He even sacked Edith and Ross.”
Jonathan stopped, a sudden dread whooshing through him. His father hadn’t called him home to mourn Charles; he needed a scapegoat. “They’ve been with this household for a decade at least.”
“I know.” Cora shook her head. “He’s tightened the purse straps on me too, though I thought at first it was due to the fact he despised my work at the hospital, but now I don’t think so.”
“Is he home?”
“No, he’s away on business until Friday, but I know he’ll be relieved to see you, especially with Richard still at the front.” Cora squeezed his arm. “Mother and I shall have you all to ourselves for three days before Father brings his dreariness into the house. Oh what fun we’ll have! And we’ll have to tell Cousin Colin of your arrival. He’s needed some cheering up after returning from the front with the loss of his right hand.”
Jonathan turned to his sister. “What? But…but his work?” Colin’s odd degree in botany required an artist’s hand to sketch the wildlife he so passionately studied.
Cora’s expression sobered. “He’s learning to use his left hand.”
His cousin had always been a singular person, focused and driven by a long list of unusual interests, but his gentle nature fit with Jonathan’s well and they’d become friends throughout the years. Yes, he’d definitely wish to see his cousin, but more than anyone, he wanted to see his mother…and, at some point, tell her about his bride.
The days with his mother and sister proved restful and sweet. He regaled them with stories from Appalachia, Cora shared tales from her work at the hospital and then laughed about the parade of unfit suitors Father kept introducing to her, and Mother, with her usual gentleness, glowed as a woman content with the sight of her child.
He’d missed them. He’d always been able to speak with his mother and sister honestly, express his dreams without fear of ridicule. He shared his heart about his care for the mountain people, their need for a doctor and simple basics, and, particularly, his love for Laurel, though something kept him from revealing the forced marriage details.
Colin visited a few times, but his ready smile rarely reached his eyes. War had impacted him to the heart, a similar tale for so many soldiers. The Blue Ridge Mountains might do Colin some good too, once he’d healed more from his time at the front.
A few overheard conversations among old acquaintances, along with information shared by Cora and Mother, filled Jonathan in on the declining success of his father’s investments, partially due to the war and partially to his father’s mismanagement. His mother shared the news with relative contentment, simply saying, “Do not worry. We are taken care of.”
With her usual passion and spontaneity, Cora took him on a shopping spree for items for his cabin—rugs, curtains, cooking utensils…laughing as she spoke of imagining him attempting to cook—and in a quiet instant with her, he revealed the truth about his marriage to Laurel. After a moment’s shock, his sister fell into laughter, and then she pulled him into a few women’s shops to purchase special gifts to take back to Laurel.
Oh, what would Cora do in those mountains!
Jonathan entered his father’s study after breakfast on Friday morning, adjusting his suit and swallowing to wet his dry throat. After more strategically placed questions paired with a few conjectures of his own, he entered this confrontation with an idea of his father’s plan. Enlist Jonathan into helping him salvage the business. Take Charles’s place at the helm, as if that was even possible.
And he’d keep Laurel far from the conversation. The longer he received his allowance, the more money he could save to send her to college. By the time Jonathan completed the rest of the school year, he’d have enough money saved to fulfill Laurel’s dream.
His father stood from behind his massive oak desk, dark hair slicked back in his usual fashion and gaze commanding the room with one look. He gestured Jonathan toward a chair, without so much as a welcome.
“You look well, Father.” Jonathan spoke first, offering his hand to his father across the desk, seeking some way to connect with him. Conversations from Laurel and his uncle Edward proved to soften a little of the edge in Jonathan’s heart against his father’s coldness. Love held power, not resentment. “I know the past few weeks could not have been easy for you.”
His father remained stoic. “Yes, which is why we must prepare for every eventuality, especially in these times. Family must remain our priority.”
Jonathan tensed. Family had never been his father’s focus, except when used as a pawn or influence. “Family is important.” His mind went to Laurel, and an idea shot to realization. Laurel was his family now.
His father stared at Jonathan’s hand and, with hesitation, took it.
“Let us have a drink together.”
His father ushered a footman forward, but Jonathan waved the man away. “No thank you.”
“Drink with me.” His father’s gaze leveled him, no request in his tone. “In memory of your brother and in celebration of your homecoming.”
Caution rose, and Jonathan took a proffered drink from the tray.
His father pressed the glass to his lips, sipped, and set it back on his desk. “Your brother will be missed in this family, as you well know. He worked hard and made his family proud by his sacrifice, a faithful son.”
His tone dripped with unswerving expectations. Jonathan lowered his glass without taking a drink and attempted to prepare for a confrontation for which he came ill-equipped. Jonathan had returned to England to comfort his family, not conform to them. “He was always a gifted leader. I am sorry Charles and I weren’t closer near the end.”
“Yes.” The word elongated, measuring, a warning glint coming to life in his father’s dark gaze. “But there is time to remediate your failings to your surviving family.”
Jonathan gripped the arm of his chair with his free hand. Ah, the knife began to twist.
“Now that you’re home, I expect you to take over your brother’s responsibilities in the business.”
Jonathan refused to shift an eyebrow, keeping his voice controlled. “We can discuss those responsibilities when I complete my duties to Uncle Edward and the people in Maple Springs.”
His father raised a cigar and lit it, unfazed by Jonathan’s statement. “Nonsense, teachers for such a backwater school are found in any corner of any street in the world. They’ll make do. Your responsibility is here. With your family.”
Jonathan straightened for the battle. “You have always emphasized the importance of completing our tasks to the end. A duty of any Taylor, I believe is the way of it.” Jonathan took a sip of his drink, as if his stomach wasn’t knotted into near-nausea. “Uncle Edward hired me as the teacher for the school year. I agreed to complete it, and I mean to do that.”
“It seems you will have to disappoint your uncle. Your responsibility is here now.”
“I will keep my word.” Jonathan refused to budge. “And I am no businessman, Father.”
“No, you are not.” He released a puff from his cigar, eyeing Jonathan without emotion. “But I don’t need your business sense, or lack thereof.” He lowered his cigar to the tray and placed his elbows on the desk, making a tepee of his fingers. “Despite appearances, this war has taken a toll on my business, and your brother’s death…” His father cleared his throat, the only sign of emotion. “I’ve decided that Miss Daphne Rivers would make a good match for you. Her father’s reputation in business, not to mention the social circles the family will draw us into, should make a significant difference in our current circumstances and increase our business prospects.”
Jonathan drew in a deep breath. A year ago, Jonathan would have kowtowed to the power and intimidation surging from his father’s steely expression. He’d have rushed for an opportunity to receive a kind word or thought from this man he barely knew, but a year ago he hadn’t lived in Maple Springs or loved Laurel McAdams.
He firmed his heart toward his decision, knowing the possible consequences. Jonathan would work harder and longer to secure Laurel’s dream of college. He’d find a way. “I won’t marry her, Father.”
His father’s smile held no kindness. “It has been a long-held dream of yours to become a doctor. Indeed, you are halfway through your studies. Who funded that coveted education?”
Jonathan knew this confrontational terrain. “You did.”
“And who provides an allowance that exceeds your paltry teacher’s pay?”
Jonathan almost smiled; the impending threat lost its sting in the light of his certainty. “You do.”
“Indeed, I do,” came the low reply. “And who will ensure that you live in comfort and reasonable happiness as long as you do as expected of you?”
“Comfort and happiness are not two characteristics which I would place in your hands, Father. You’ve shown nor given either to me.” Jonathan eased back into his chair, suddenly aware of his own freedom from his father’s manipulation. God held Jonathan’s future, and He’d placed Laurel directly in the path to show Jonathan where true strength lay. “What I’ve learned has been through Mother, Uncle Edward, and my grandparents. Not from you. And my life in Maple Springs has only taught me more. Given me more.”
His father stood, bracing himself against the desk, expression hardened to steel. “You are weak. You’ve always been weak. Even now, you’re not man enough to step into the shoes you were meant to fill and save this family.”
Jonathan stood, eye level with his father. “You know as well as I that a marriage to Miss Rivers isn’t going to save your business, and certainly not this family. It’s nothing more than a bandage around a cancer sore. The business has been failing for years. This war only showed the weaknesses within the foundation.”
His father slammed his palms against the desk. “How dare you?”
“Weak men bully others into submission by threats and intimidation. I am neither weak nor the scapegoat for your mismanagement.”
“You ungrateful, ill—”
“And I won’t marry Miss Rivers.” Jonathan smiled, showing his slight height advantage over his father. “Because I was married three weeks ago to Laurel Lilabeth McAdams.”
His father released a humorless laugh. “If you’re trying to lie your way out of this, then you’re more of a coward than I—”
“You are welcome to wire Uncle Edward for confirmation, since he officiated the ceremony.” Jonathan reached into his pocket, retrieving the certificate his uncle created for him—a paper he’d requested as a gift for Laurel, but it would serve its purpose now as well. “Or, I can procure the marriage certificate for you now.”
“What?” His father snatched the paper, sneered at it, and then, without warning, tossed it into the flames of the fireplace.
“No.” Jonathan stumbled a few steps toward the fireplace, his hands fisted at his sides. Pointless. The paper was already consumed.
“An easy enough remedy to our little problem.”
Jonathan’s gaze flew back to his father’s. “That changes nothing. I know my own heart, and I will not comply to your wishes.”
The sneer on his father’s face somehow aged the man before Jonathan’s eyes. The graying hair. The crinkled brow. A man withering as much on the outside as within. “Then you will have nothing. I’ll strip you of any allowance or financial support. No inheritance. Your name will be blotted from the family’s lives.”
Jonathan blinked from the sting. “Do you see what you’re doing? What you’re choosing? You alienate the people who would love you by your cruelty. I may not cower beneath your demands, but that does not mean I wish to quit this family. You are my father.”
“You are not my son.” His voice held no hint of welcome or regret.
Jonathan closed his eyes, accepting his fate. “How many more relationships will you sever before you wake up to your own cold loneliness? Open your eyes to what you have. You cannot redeem the loss of Charles, but God has given you time, yet, to bring happiness to those around you, instead of despair. Think of Cora and Mother—”
“Our conversation is finished. You are dead to me.” His father crossed his arms and turned his back.
Would this be the last time he saw his father? Jonathan prayed for compassion even as his heart struggled to round the desk and shake some sense into the man. Love exacted change, not anger. “You haven’t the power to expunge my name from this family any more than you do the existence of a God who would hold you accountable for your hard heart, but, whether you acknowledge Him or not, He is there. And whether you acknowledge me or not, I will be praying that God will break your heart of stone so that you can seize what time you still have.” Jonathan bowed his head and, without another glance back, walked toward the door.
“I want you out of this house within the hour.” His father’s voice followed him. “You are no longer welcome here.”
Jonathan paused only a moment, drew in a deep breath, lifted his head, and left the room.
He alerted the butler to his immediate departure as Jonathan walked up the stairs to his bedroom. His eyes stung, and his breaths pulsed for control of his emotions. Even if his father never created a loving home for Jonathan, the idea of severing their relationship altogether incited a resounding ache in his chest.
As he pulled an unused trunk from his closet, he prayed for his broken father and the wounds only Christ could reach. Jonathan packed what little he had brought and a few keepsakes, and instructed Masters to package the dozens of things Cora and his mother had purchased for shipment to Maple Springs.
He could only imagine Laurel’s face at the wild assortment of gifts and decorations.
“Laurel.” He breathed in her name.
Yes, it was time to leave London. Time to go…home.
At light tap on the bedroom door preceded his mother and Cora’s entrance. There was a gentleness in his mother’s expression, her usual countenance except something deeper. A lingering sadness. She’d overheard his father’s conversation.
“Do you love her? Your bride?” Her voice smoothed over the question, accepting his future, his choice.
“I do.” Jonathan took her into his arms and placed a kiss on her cheek. “And you would love her.” He glanced to Cora. “You both would.”
“She’s the Laurel from Jonathan’s letters, Mother,” Cora added, dark brow perched high. “Smart, a writer, funny, strong.” Cora released a light laugh. “I have an American sister-in-law.”
Mother took one of his hands into hers and touched his cheek with the other. “Despite what your father mandated, dear boy, you will always have family here.”
He closed his eyes and covered her hand against his cheek. “I never doubted that, Mother. I’m only sorry things did not turn out better for your sake.”
“We will be fine.” Her gaze bore into his, searching, until her smile bloomed. “And I see that you already are. When you spoke of Laurel, your eyes brightened with affection.”
“Besides present company, she is truly the best woman I’ve ever known.”
His mother patted his cheek and lowered her hand. “Only the best will do for you, my dear boy.”
“And you must keep writing to us,” Cora said. “We’ll make certain Masters delivers the letters to my room. Father never enters there.” She stepped close, leaning her head against his shoulder. “And someday I’ll have my own place, then you and Laurel can come and stay with me regardless of what Father says.”
He grinned down at his plucky little sister. “Introduce Laurel to London? What an adventure that would be.”
“And do not worry for money.” His mother’s smile peaked to one side. “Your father is not the only one with finances.” She placed an envelope in his hand. “I support a great many charitable organizations from my own purse. Your professional future seems an excellent addition to my list.”
“What? How?” He took the envelope, looking inside at the handsome amount.
“Your father has no control of my inheritance, which I dole out as I choose.” She grinned. “And I choose you…and Laurel and the mission at Maple Springs.”
He laughed and pulled her into his arms. “Thank you, Mother. I will bring Laurel here one day.”
“Or we’ll travel to you,” Cora added. “Besides, I’m a trained nurse, or at least I’m a trained volunteer. I could help you in your wild world of polecats and cougars.”
“I’d rather not introduce you to either of those, but there are a host of other things and people I’d love to show you.” He cupped his little sister’s cheek, the little girl in her face bowing to the woman she was becoming. “I’m still learning that world myself, Cora. But maybe someday, someday soon, I’ll send for you.”
Laurel finished working on the lessons for the last day of school before the winter break. She’d taken some of the students’ newest work and placed it out on tables or pinned it to the walls so that when they arrived for their last day tomorrow, they would see their best pieces on display. A literature essay here. A poem there. A detailed sketch of the anatomy of a frog. A few paintings, some excellent dresses, a half dozen wood crafts. She smiled at the eclectic display. Yes, her people had a great many skills, and ones to celebrate.
Jonathan had encouraged this celebration.
Her fingers slid over the pages of handwritten lessons on Jonathan’s school desk. He had lovely penmanship. Almost artistic.
He never strayed too far from her thoughts. Always as close as the scent in their home or the memory of his kiss.
