CHAPTER 18

Julia held back a gasp at Becky’s bold declaration and immediately glanced over at Quinn. The look of shock on his face mingled with an expression of hurt.

Oh, Quinn. You certainly didn’t expect this.

Julia stepped toward the couple. “Please accept my congratulations,” she said a bit too brightly in a vain attempt to ease the tension.

“Thank you,” Becky responded with a wary smile. “We’re very excited.”

Beside her, Ned beamed. “I’m a lucky man.” He turned to Quinn. “I want you to know, sir, that I love Rebecca very much and will do everything in my power to give her a good life.”

Quinn just shook his head, his eyes taking on a hint of panic. He raked his fingers through his hair as he paced away from them.

Julia’s muscles stiffened in anticipation of Quinn’s next actions.

He whirled back around, color high in his cheeks. “Becca, you’re not even eighteen yet. What is the confounded rush to marry?”

Becky blinked and clung harder to Ned. “We love each other and want to be together. Besides, I’ll be eighteen next month, and my contract will be completed.”

Ned shifted his weight. “I’ve been saving for a place of our own for a while now, and I should have enough by the fall.” He smiled down at Becky. “We’ll have our own little chicken farm. Maybe a cow and a horse too.” He focused back on Quinn. “Over time, I hope to be able to expand, and then—”

“Is this what you really want, Becky? To be a farmer’s wife?” Quinn waved a hand around the room. “To go from living in a fine house like this to tending chickens?”

Julia cringed. Did he realize how insulting he sounded?

Becky lifted her chin. “I’d trade this lifestyle in a minute to be Ned’s wife.” She moved toward her brother. “It’s all I’ve wanted for a long time now.”

Quinn’s shoulders sagged then, as though realizing he’d lost a battle. The light in his eyes faded, and he turned away from the happy couple.

Julia’s heart went out to him, sensing his keen disappointment like it was her own. He’d traveled so far with one goal in mind, and at every turn, his efforts were thwarted.

“Why don’t we sit down and talk? You could tell us how you met.” Julia forced a smile as she took a seat in a wing chair.

Becky and Ned moved to sit on the sofa, but Quinn remained standing by the fireplace.

“Ned worked on the first farm where I was sent.” Becky’s features softened. “He rescued me from a bad situation there. Brought me back to Hazelbrae. I don’t know what would’ve happened to me if it weren’t for him.”

The younger man’s ears reddened. “I only did what any decent person would.” He raised Becky’s hand to his lips. “I’m just grateful to God for bringing Rebecca into my life.”

“And I thank God every night for you,” Becky said softly.

Ned bent and dropped a kiss on her lips.

Julia’s throat tightened. How would it feel to have the love of such an upstanding man? Against her will, her gaze captured Quinn’s profile as he stared into the fireplace. His jaw was taut, his forehead tense.

Perhaps she could salvage something of this meeting for Quinn’s sake. Julia leaned toward the couple, then turned to Ned. “Right before you arrived,” she said, “Quinn was telling Becky that their mother’s health is failing and how he hoped to take Becky and his brothers home to see her. Becky thought she might get away for a bit of a holiday.”

Quinn shot her an unhappy look over his shoulder. Julia raised a brow in silent warning. If a quick visit was all Becky could manage, he might have to accept that it was better than nothing.

Becky frowned and turned to her fiancé. “What do you think, Ned?”

Ned’s forehead furrowed. “Will the Sebrings allow you to go?”

“I think so. They mentioned they would give me some time off if I ever needed it. Besides, my contract will soon be over.”

“And the money for your passage?”

“I’ll take care of that,” Quinn added quickly, coming to join them.

“When would you be leaving?” Ned put an arm around Becky, as if wanting to keep her by his side, the mere thought of her leaving unbearable.

“As soon as I can get everyone together.” Quinn ran a hand over his jaw. “Cecil is resisting the idea. Harry needs more time to regain his strength, but maybe three weeks from now we’d be ready.”

Becky exchanged a meaningful look with her fiancé, then turned to Quinn. “I’ll give it serious consideration. Let me speak with the Sebrings and I’ll get back to you. I promise.”

Quinn hesitated, then at last he nodded. “I suppose that will have to do.”

“Do you have a telephone here?” Julia asked.

“Yes, of course,” Becky said. “Let me write down the number for you.” She rose and walked to a nearby table.

“We’ll give you a call next week,” Julia said when Quinn didn’t add anything. “Maybe by then we’ll all be in a better place to make some definite plans.”

Becky came back with a pencil and paper. “Are you going back to England too, Julia?”

Julia’s stomach clenched, suddenly realizing her error. She hadn’t meant to give Becky the impression she would be joining them, and she certainly hadn’t planned to let Quinn in on her decision just yet.

Quinn was looking at her now with such a hopeful expression that she couldn’t meet his gaze. “My plans are somewhat . . . tentative at the moment. I had been considering accompanying Quinn home so I could visit my uncle.” She paused. “However, I’m about to start a new job and fear the timing isn’t right.”

Quinn’s eyes narrowed, his mouth a tight line.

Becky handed Julia the paper. “Well, as you said, we’ll see how things stand in a week or two.” She gave a strained smile. “In the meantime, if you tell me where I can reach Mum, I’ll write her a letter and tell her about my engagement. Maybe that will give her a lift.”

“Wouldn’t it be wonderful,” Ned said, “if your mother regained her health and could make the trip here to attend the wedding?”

“It would, though it doesn’t sound too likely.” Becky’s halfhearted response belied her words.

Julia tucked the phone number into her pocket. What was the issue between the girl and her mother? It was obvious she wasn’t excited about going home to see her or for her mother to come here. Perhaps Becky resented Mrs. Aspinall for putting them into the orphanage.

Becky rose from the sofa and smoothed her skirt. “It’s been so good to see you, Quinn. It’s like having a taste of home right here.” She clasped her hands together. “But I promised Ned I’d go into town with him today.”

Quinn strode across the carpet, his expression thunderous. “I thought you were spending the afternoon with me.” His scowling demeanor didn’t fool Julia. Hurt swirled in the depths of his eyes. Yet how could he not understand that Becky was in love and that matters of the heart overruled everything else? Even a brother she hadn’t seen in years.

“I . . . I’m sorry, Quinn,” Becky said softly, “but there’s really not much more to say for now, is there?”

At the defeated look on his face, Julia wanted to wrap him in a hug and tell him everything would work out.

Instead she rose and held out her hand to Becky. “It was lovely to meet you, Becky. And you as well, Ned. I hope to see you again.”

Then she walked out into the hall to give Quinn a moment to say his good-byes, praying she could find the right words to comfort him on the train ride home.

Harriet attempted to ignore the arthritic pain attacking her knees in spite of the padding on the church kneeler. Granted, the kneelers probably weren’t meant for hours of use without moving. But Harriet was determined not to leave until the good Lord provided her with some sort of answer, or at the very least, some small measure of peace.

Ever since Quinten had come into her life, Harriet had been plagued by events from her past. Emotions she’d thought safely tucked away had once again risen to the surface, refusing to stay buried. Now with young Harry staying under her roof, the demons within were becoming even harder to quiet.

God must have a reason for bringing this family to her. If only she could figure out why, perhaps she could resume her peaceful life.

She squeezed her eyes shut, but nothing blotted out the image of Harry’s battered body from her mind. The angry bruises, the swollen rib cage. What twelve-year-old boy deserved that?

And for that matter, what fifteen-year-old girl deserved to feel desperate enough to take her own life?

“Harriet?” A booming voice echoed over the silence of the space.

Her eyes flew open.

Geoffrey crossed in front of the altar, concern radiating from his face.

She blinked and only then realized her cheeks were wet.

“Is everything all right?” He stopped in front of her pew.

With a nod, she swiped the back of her hand across her cheeks. “I guess I got carried away with some overly zealous praying.” She held out a hand. “Help me up, will you? I think my knees are fused to this bench.”

He came into the pew and gently assisted her to her feet. “How long have you been here?” he asked.

“I don’t really know. I’ve lost track of the time. An hour or two maybe.”

“Then I think you’d better come with me, young lady.” He took her hand and steered her toward the hall beyond the sanctuary that led to his office.

“Young lady?” she huffed. “I think you need your prescription glasses changed.”

He laughed but held her hand tighter.

In his office, the lamp on his desk sent a yellow glow over a pile of papers and books. Obviously, he’d been in the middle of something, likely writing his sermon for Sunday.

“I don’t want to interrupt your work,” she said. “I’ll just head home.”

“Not before a conversation. Now sit.” He pointed to the chair across from the desk.

Because her knees still ached and her legs were shaky, she obeyed. For once without argument.

Instead of going behind the desk, Geoffrey dragged a chair over beside her. He sat down and took her hand in his. “Now, tell me what has you so rattled.”

“What makes you say—”

“I’ve known you for almost thirty years, and I can count on one hand the number of times you’ve come to the church midweek. Never mind that you were here praying nonstop for hours.”

She looked away from his probing gaze. How could she begin to describe the ghosts that haunted her? She took in a shuddering breath. “I . . . I don’t know where to start.”

“Does this have anything to do with Quinten and his brother?”

She sniffed, and Geoffrey passed her a handkerchief. How did the man always seem to know her thoughts? “I suppose it does.”

He sat quietly, waiting for her to elaborate. Silence was one of his best tools to get people to open up.

Finally, she released a long breath. “You should see the bruises on wee Harry’s body. To think a grown man took out his anger on a boy in such a vile manner . . . The brute should be behind bars.”

“I agree,” he said solemnly. “No one has the right to hurt a child.” He paused. “Is that what you were praying about?”

“If you must know, I was asking the Lord to take away this dreadful resentment. This unsettled feeling I can’t shake since—well, since Quinten started talking about Dr. Barnardo’s Homes and Hazelbrae.”

“Seems he’s brought a lot of unresolved anger to the surface.”

“Not just anger.” Her voice faded to a whisper. “Horrible, debilitating guilt.”

His brows rose above his glasses. “What do you feel guilty about?”

“About staying silent all these years.” She shuddered. “I never did anything after Annie died. What if I’d fought to have the man who abused her brought to justice? Or at least told someone about the type of exploitation we endured? Maybe it would have stopped the mistreatment. Maybe children like Harry wouldn’t still be suffering today.” More tears brimmed her lashes.

“Harriet, you can’t take the blame for everything that’s gone on in the organization for the past forty years.” He squeezed her hand.

She shook her head. “I was a coward, Geoffrey. Plain and simple. After Annie’s death, I kept quiet, too afraid that if I made a fuss, I’d be punished as severely as she was.”

“No one would have believed the word of a twelve-year-old girl, Harriet.”

“But what about later? When I was older? I could have gone back as an adult and made sure the conditions were better.” She rose from the chair and walked to the small window overlooking the church grounds. “Instead, I buried my head in the sand. Eased my conscience by telling myself I was helping other immigrants with the Newcomers Program.” Her voice became shrill. “And all along, little children were dying.”

“And you think you could have single-handedly changed that?” He came up behind her. “Even you, my dear Harriet, are not that formidable.” The gentle weight of his hand on her shoulder brought her a measure of calm.

“I don’t think I can remain silent any longer.” She turned to look at him. “I have to do something, but I’m not sure where to begin.”

Geoffrey stroked his chin. “We could start by paying a visit to the director of the boys’ home. There’s a chance the man isn’t aware of the true extent of what’s going on.”

“We?”

He smiled. “You don’t think I’d let you take on the establishment by yourself, do you? Besides, having a member of the clergy with you might strengthen your claim.”

Her throat tightened. This man had been her ally and best friend for so long now. Never once had he let her down, always by her side when she needed him. And now he was willing to go into battle with some potential hard-necked bureaucrats for her.

She leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, Geoffrey. That means a great deal to me. Perhaps bringing this issue to light will lay my demons to rest once and for all.”

“I’d slay any demon for you, Harriet.” And with that, he pulled her closer and kissed her on the lips.

For a split second, she froze, the air stalling in her lungs. Had he meant to kiss her cheek and missed?

Then, before she could react, he stepped back. But instead of seeming embarrassed, he searched her face, his expression earnest. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time now,” he said softly. “I hope I haven’t shocked you.”

“As a matter of fact, you have.” She couldn’t stop the heat from rising in her cheeks. Because as much as he surprised her, it wasn’t exactly an unwelcome development. One she’d daydreamed about lately, although she wasn’t quite sure why.

He brushed a finger down her cheek. “Don’t you think it’s time we took our friendship—our very long friendship—to the next logical step?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I rather like our relationship as it is. What if a romance ruins everything?” She was still a coward, no two ways about it. “I couldn’t take losing you. . . .” Her voice quavered.

Geoffrey enfolded her hand in his. “That will never happen. No matter what, you’re stuck with me.”

She attempted a smile, but the cold ball of fear in her belly would not dissolve.

He patted her hand and rose. “No pressure, my dear. In the meantime, let’s put a call in to Dr. Barnardo’s.”

Her shoulders slumped with relief at the reprieve. “Yes, let’s do that.”