Nine
“So, where are you two off to this morning?” Maggie asked as she helped Rachel into a traveling gown of different shades of green.
“He was rather vague in his invitation, but I believe we may have been invited to lunch with Toddy and Mr. Parson.”
Maggie shook her head, eyes twinkling. “That Toddy. You better watch him like a hawk, Rach. I’m afraid he won’t be happy until he’s told Mr. Trent all your nasty secrets.”
Rachel remembered again Toddy’s insistence that he have “a go at your Mr. Trent”. It was definitely something she wouldn’t put past him in the least. “Yes, well, if he makes a nuisance of himself too extremely, I will simply leave of my own volition.” If Robert remained in order to hear the tales and confessions of a past girl that had been left behind, she wasn’t certain if she would be irritated or not. It would present him with a never before had opportunity to view insights into personal motivations.
Truth be told, if they were stories of him she would stay.
“And you really need to have Mr. Trent show you the cottage he talked of the other day,” Maggie continued. “I’ve heard that it’s just lovely, though it hasn’t been getting the attention it needs.”
Rachel arched an eyebrow, finding it hard to believe that Robert would allow something of such extreme interest and potential to go to waste. “I will ask what he intends.”
“And maybe you could offer a suggestion or two,” Maggie suggested. “I think you’ll fall in love with it right away.” She finished fastening up the dress and guided Rachel to the vanity for a dressing of hair. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if you and he moved in after the wedding? You could have your own home!”
Rachel felt an internal cringe as she lowered her gaze to the vanity top, absently adjusting the position of the combs and brushes. “There has been no promise of nuptials as of yet, Maggie. Such would be pre-mature until I know enough of his person to satisfy my father as well as the Board.” She didn’t know how to imagine a life free from the reminders of expectation. No demands. No condescension. No feeling of… inadequacy. How did one live a life with acceptance and patience?
Maggie finished placing Rachel’s hair and then helped her into her shoes. “Last things and then you’re off,” she informed cheerily as she chose a wrap and hat. She draped Rachel’s shoulders and tied the emerald netting of the hat under Rachel’s chin, then Maggie smiled. “I always loved you in green; brings out your eyes. You’ve got your mamma’s eyes.”
Rachel’s expression softened. “Thank you, Mags.”
“Sure thing. Now, you have fun,” Maggie directed as she opened the door. “Don’t think about nothing but that. You’ve been serious enough these past eight years.”
Robert’s voice and chuckle could be heard in the hall, then, and Rachel’s expression altered to that of extreme calm. Remembering his request last night and his protection of her poems the day of her room’s redecoration, Rachel had decided that he had fixed himself on the possibility of her recitation. A visit to that past is both unnecessary and unwelcome. Neither was it understood. He had somewhat tenaciously debated her previously, and she still did not fully understand why a stance encouraging the exploration of creative thought would be so important.
Rachel momentarily frowned, but when she felt Maggie’s sidelong glance she turned to send her a practiced smile. Then she exited her room and moved to descend the stairs.
Robert concluded his conversation with Oliver, gripped the elderly man on the shoulder, and then turned to meet Rachel at the foot.
Balancing a smile with a careful consideration of her expressions, he slightly bowed before offering his arm. “Miss Samson, shall we?”
Rachel said nothing, only inclining her head as she accepted his arm and followed beside him to the front entry and down the steps to the carriage outside. Her mind remained strangely silent and distant as Robert bid Oliver “Good day. We’ll return before dinner.” Then he guided her the few steps from the house to the carriage and handed her up with a gently voiced “Mind your step.”
As Rachel adjusted her skirts, he gave directions to the driver and then stepped up to sit across from her. The carriage lurched forward and Robert released a deep breath. Then he intercepted her gaze with a lopsided smile. Rachel slowly opened her fan, this one a watercolor of an Oregon landscape – a gift from Maggie – and teased the air near her face. Her scrutiny never wavered from his expression and the laughter that danced there. She had expected him to be more cautious and less forth-coming with his attitude of mischief secondary to the attitude she had shown him the night before.
“And so the lady regards me with reserve,” Robert observed.
The fan paused as she regarded his handsome face and the expression within, especially when compared to the tone of his voice. As Rachel held his gaze, she again felt the pull and the press, as well as a hint of terror colored by a twinge of a need to trust. Somehow she knew he saw and felt the same, for his expression minutely changed. It softened. Rachel lowered her gaze to her fan. True softness hadn’t been shown to this Rachel Samson…. “How’s daddy’s little angel?” …and a fleeting memory of being lifted into arms at a return from work–
“You’re terribly thoughtful this afternoon,” Robert offered carefully. “Should I press? Or leave it?”
Rachel delicately shrugged, shrugging off, also, the confusion and lingering pain as she focused on him. “Leave it to the morning. I’ve dedicated myself to enjoy this picnic.”
“What about a continuation of the game we started a few days before?” Robert crossed his arms and stretched his legs out in front of him. “Questions by the hundreds have plagued me since we ended it.”
“Will the journey end before I get to voice my own questions?”
Robert chuckled. “I highly doubt it. We’ve a jaunt ahead of us, but I’ll be sure to allow us plenty of time to ask equal questions.”
“Thank you.” Rachel motioned toward him. “You may ask the first.”
“Hm. Now to choose which is the most important.” Robert pursed his lips, pushing them slightly to one side as he regarded her. Then he smiled and voiced, “Ah. I have it. When did you first begin writing in verse?”
--“What’s this? Daddy’s girl has a poem?” He pulled her up onto her lap, eyes smiling as he prompted, “And what does this poem say, angel”– Rachel shoved the memory aside with a frown as she released a somewhat annoyed sigh. “Robert, couldn’t you ask a different question? I don’t write in verse any longer, so why does it matter when I began?”
“It matters because it’s a portion of a person I’m interested in knowing better. If I had been involved in your past as Mr. Richards or Maggie, then I wouldn’t ask. Well, more than likely anyway. But as I haven’t had the opportunity to know much other than what is common knowledge–”
“You needn’t use guilt to manipulate an answer,” Rachel said, tone sharp. Robert regarded her, the intensity of his scrutiny actually making Rachel’s hackles rise. She looked away, her frown deepening. “I apologize,” she said tightly, and she seemed to offer him more apologies and pardons than anyone in her history.
“Rachel,” Robert finally began, his tone cautious, “you know that I wasn’t truly attempting to manipulate you into an answer, don’t you?”
Rachel pressed her lips together. “Yes.”
Again the silence of his scrutiny descended, causing Rachel to snap open her fan and tease the air around her face with sharp movements.
“Why do you get angry with that question?” he asked, voice as careful and cautious as before.
--“Another poem, angel? Goodness me. Aren’t I blessed–” Rachel snapped the fan closed and gripped it with her other hand until she heard the sound of the wood pop. Then she faced him. “I don’t know. I only don’t want to answer. I don’t even wish to think about the answer.”
“Do you want to know why you become angry at it?”
“I…” She clenched her jaw as she held his gaze, noticing the concern and caution in his expression. …Her father accepted the poem from Rachel’s outstretched hand. “A farewell verse, angel?” he said softly. He looked down at it for a long moment before focusing dark eyes on her face. She bit her lip, tears glimmering in emerald eyes… Rachel released a long and quick breath as she forced herself to loosen the grip on her fan. She looked away. “They belong to her.”
“You don’t like being reminded of her, do you?” Robert ventured carefully.
Rachel wordlessly shook her head, though she knew he would ask the one question she didn’t want to answer.
“Why?”
--“Must I go, Papa? Couldn’t you teach me?” she asked, voice tight and broken. Her father shook his head. “No, Rachel. I couldn’t. This school is what you need to get ready. To make you better.”--
Rachel could feel the tears press at her; tears she had fought back for most of the eight years she’d been away. Such a weakness invited torture and misery. Such a side of sensitivity only provided them with an area to manipulate and… hurt– Robert moved to sit beside her, his brown eyes attracting her attention before she could look away to the safety of the scenery outside. Instead, she was accosted by the surprising presence of pain in his expression.
“Why, Rachel?” he asked again, pressing her to reveal something she had hidden away in another life.
--“You need to be brave while away, Rachel,” Her father reminded, his voice gently firm. “Will you do that? Will you do your very best?”-- Rachel swallowed hard before whispering, “She wasn’t good enough,” her voice threatening tears.
“But why would you think that?” Robert asked. “She had close friends. She had a family that loved her. Why would you think she wasn’t good enough?”
The expression in his eyes remained as compassionate and caring as she ever remembered, not allowing her retreat. --Rachel solemnly nodded as she voiced a hushed, “I promise you’ll be proud.”-- Rachel desperately tried to blink the memories away. “Why wouldn’t I? He sent me away.”
Robert released a soft breath as he gathered her hands into his. “Rachel, your worth isn’t determined by that.”
But how could it not be? The action had changed everything, beyond repair.
Robert sighed and moved close, his arm embracing her shoulders while his hand gently enfolded her upper arm and his thumb began a soft and soothing stroke. The action of comfort and tenderness invited the tears closer, but Rachel fought them back.
“I didn’t intend to ruin the mood for the picnic,” he said softly.
Rachel bit the inside of her lip. No. He never intended harm. He never seemed to even seek it out. Not as they had at school. He only attempted to discover things about her that often led to a darker part of what should have been a happy life. Making her face something that she had convinced herself didn’t matter.
“Can I attempt to get it back again?” Robert asked, his voice gentle.
Rachel took in and released a deep breath before giving a silent nod. Accepting the fact that she needed a draw back to a smile. Admitting that she sometimes feared what lurked behind the calm.
“All right. Then I will attempt another question.”
Rachel looked to her left, meeting his gaze to recognize a slight twinkle of mischief behind the care and concern.
“Do you swim like a fish or a frog?”
The question sounded so preposterous that Rachel couldn’t help but laugh. “Robert.”
“What? It’s a legitimate question, as I’ve been told I swim… Well, I’ll let you find that out at a later time. I seem to recall Mr. Richards hinting at the presence of a swimming hole around here close.”
“Aren’t we a little old for escapes to swimming holes?” But a great portion of her longed for those days of no cares, save whether or not she would be caught by her parents dressing down to her bloomers to swim with a handsome boy of thirteen years with blond hair and flirtatious eyes.
Robert feigned a frown. “Don’t be ridiculous. I have it on good authority that swimming - bathing they sometimes call it - is the newest rage. They’ve even designed quite an assortment of ‘swimsuits’. Besides, it’s been ages since Damon and I had the opportunity to find a secluded spot for fishing, swimming, or overall daydreaming. I believe the last time I was able to do so was… at the age of fifteen?” Robert’s expression grew thoughtful before he nodded. “Yes. Fifteen. And what a shame it was to lose that,” he confessed, pointing at her while giving a minute wink. “Why should we grow older and grow up?” He crossed his arms and scoffed. “A waste of time, if you ask me.”
Rachel fought back the smile as she shook her head and lightly fanned herself. “All right, all right. We’ll schedule a trip with Maggie and Toddy to our swimming hole north of the orchard.”
Robert sent her a sidelong glance. “That doesn’t answer my question.”
“Toddy once accused me of swimming much like a drowning dog.”
“Certainly you jest. With your gracefulness of movement?” He scoffed. “I won’t believe it. Mermaid, yes. Dog?” He scoffed again.
“Very well. Judge for yourself, but not until we’ve arranged the purchase of appropriate swimwear.”
“Why wait? Bloomers and undershorts should be good enough.”
A flush burned her cheeks as she snapped his arm with her fan. He grinned, as boyishly attractive as ever, and captured the fan as it came down for the second strike. “Robert Leonard,” Rachel scolded as she attempted to pull the fan from his hold.
But what fun to be teased without prejudice. To smack and push. To flirt and discuss. To explore a friendship whether or not something blossomed.
Robert chuckled and released his hold on the fan, accepting the second smack with a flinch and a laugh. “All right, all right.” Then he again crossed his arms and gave her a nudge. “Your question?”
Rachel regarded him with a slowly descending expression of seriousness.
The smile on Robert’s face softened. “I’ve an inkling the question you want to ask is not a jest or joke.”
“Father is of the mind that you could be a conspirer for my… high-opinion so that you could later use it for your benefit,” she admitted. “I argued against the possibility, but of course my reasons stated weren’t based on fact or knowledge of you. Only those of your actions up to this point, which have been enough in my opinion.”
Robert smirked. “Thank you.”
“So, if you don’t mind questions into your personal history…” Rachel prompted.
He adjusted his position within the corner of the carriage so that he could face more toward her. “Go ahead, Rachel. You’re entitled to as many serious questions as you like.”
Rachel pursed her lips to one side, her fan absently tapping her other hand as she regarded him. “You were born in Virginia?”
“Yes. Charlottesville. 1862. September 7th.”
“You attended the University of Virginia there?”
Robert inclined his head. “Yes.” Then his smirk widened slightly. “Did you know that the faculty convinced Gen. Custer to spare the University in 1865 when Union troops marched on Charlottesville? Instead, they camped on the lawn, sacked many of the Pavilions, but moved on about four days later without spilling one ounce of blood. It’s a wonderful tale. As is the one of the murder of law professor John A. G. Davis, whom was shot by a masked student in 1840. I believe it was that sobering incident which brought about the ‘honor pledge’ later established by the faculty.”
Rachel arched an eyebrow, encouraging the twinkle within Robert’s brown eyes as he watched her.
“What?” he prompted. “I like a good story.”
She smirked. “Obviously.” She motioned toward him with her fan. “What standing did you hold in your classes?”
“Top five.”
Her eyebrow lifted again. “Not the primary leader?”
“Yes, well…” Robert cleared his throat. “I had a bout with the Influenza that kept me out of class for a collection of weeks.”
Again Rachel noticed a tone of embarrassment. It was as if he didn’t want special attention.
“I turned in all my work within a few days of their due dates,” he continued, “but unfortunately I wasn’t able to focus enough attention for my debates and my closing statements in order to earn more than the normal credit.”
“Certainly the fact that you fulfilled the requirement at all while so ill should have counted for something additional.”
“I didn’t want special treatment.”
Rachel blinked. “But you were ill!”
“That doesn’t matter in real life.” Robert shrugged. “I didn’t mind not being in the primary position. Third was accomplishment enough.”
How different our philosophies on that?
“My father asked me about that once,” Robert added thoughtfully, tapping his lips with a finger as he focused ahead. “He and Damon both thought I should have approached the Dean to complain, due to the fact I was ill for those weeks. In fact, I seem to recall Father saying that I put in more effort than what would have been expected for the grades I received.” He shrugged again, meeting Rachel’s scrutiny with a smile. “I suppose the fact that Father believed I should have had the first position was enough. He knew how hard I had worked, I knew how hard I had worked, and everything else outside of that was secondary.”
“But what of the fact your position would ultimately affect any and all positions of employment applied for? Didn’t that concern you?”
“Normally it would have, but due to the fact I knew my position secured…” Robert smirked. “If that hadn’t been the case, I likely would have complained of my grade. Interesting that, isn’t it?”
Rachel thoughtfully regarded him as she absently said “Yes.”
His lips twitched upward. “My question?”
Rachel blinked, drawing her mind from the regard of his character, and then motioned toward him. “By all means.”
A smile twitched his lips to one side as he gave her hand another pressure. “Why is your middle name ‘Byron’?”
“My mother.”
“Her name was ‘Byron’?” he asked, though the expression in his eyes fairly screamed that he knew very well it wasn’t.
“No,” she said patiently. “Her name was ‘Marie’. Her favorite poet was Lord Byron.”
“Ah. Wise choice. Though I prefer Sir Philip Sydney.”
Rachel’s eyebrow twitched.
Robert reached up to caress the corner of her arched eyebrow, his eyes focused on the action. “Especially the ones composed for the infamous ‘Stella’,” he added, tone absent.
Her heart reveled in the simple act of tenderness, shushing her mind’s chastisement. Rachel released a soft and silent breath to keep her action under restraint.
“Do you have a favorite poet?”
Rachel slightly shook her head, trying to banish away the fog in order to remember the name…
“Oh?” he said softly, finger moving its caress from eyebrow to jawline. “That’s a pity.” Then his eyes focused on hers and he leaned slightly forward-- He cleared his throat and sat back, hand releasing hers as he turned in the seat and focused forward, arms crossing and ears and neck flushing red. “I apologize, Rachel,” he mumbled.
Rachel released another collection of breaths before giving her own delicate clearing of throat and focusing forward as well. “I’ve enjoyed Edgar Allen Poe greatly, of late.”
Robert adjusted his crossed arms and then looked to her profile. “He went to University of Virginia. Did you know?”
Rachel shook her head, forcing away imaginations and dreams as she focused on his face with a forced calm. “Did he?”
Robert nodded. “From what I understand, he attended approximately three years after I was born.”
“What a small world.”
Robert smirked. “Yes, I suppose you could say that. Just look at our own coincidences of meeting.”
The carriage lurched to a stop then, causing Robert to look out the window. “There already? Goodness gracious me. How time flies when one’s otherwise engaged.”
“But I haven’t had as many questions to ask as you yourself have,” Rachel said, tone clearly mischievous.
Robert chuckled.
The back-and-forths were more fun than she had thought possible, much as a portion of her hated to admit it. Her only concern grew to be the tattering hold on her calm. Given the emotional exchanges and the deepening softness she saw in his eyes… Set it aside, Rachel.
“There’s nothing to say you can’t continue once we’re safely ensconced within,” he said. He opened the door to the carriage and stepped down, immediately turning to help Rachel do the same. “Mind your step.”
Rachel couldn’t release his hand once both feet were on the ground. The warmth within as well as his soft touch without wouldn’t allow it. Especially not when his hold slightly increased its pressure as her eyes were drawn to a scrutiny of the large brick building.
A leaden weight dropped into the pit of her stomach. “The orphanage?”
“I see you know it,” Robert said, a bright tone in his voice.
“I know it well.” Rachel clung tighter to his hand as she stared at the front doors.
“Come,” Robert said as he returned her squeeze. “I will give you the tour.” When Robert made a move to step forward, Rachel stopped him with a tug on his arm. He turned to look at her, concern twisting his expression. “Rachel? What is it?”
The only answer she could offer was a silent shake of her head.
Robert glanced at the large double doors. Then he turned to Rachel and took hold of both her hands. “Rachel, look at me,” he requested, voice gentle. She pulled her focus from the orphanage and looked up at him. “It’s all right if you don’t wish to visit the children today. I thought you might enjoy spending some time with them, but I won’t press.”
“I…” Rachel’s eyes again focused to the orphanage. “I spent so much time here as a young girl. I don’t know if I can go back. I want to put my past behind me, not travel back to face the memories again.”
Robert tilted her head up, smiling when her dark gaze met his. “Rachel, maybe this time the facing of the past won’t be as painful as it was before?” He lowered his finger from her chin. “Maybe the memories will have mercy, giving you something more pleasant to remember?”
Rachel held his gaze for a long and silent moment before again looking to the door.
“I must confess that I’ve told the children all about you, everything true of course. They’ve begged me for days to bring you.”
The statement and confession seemed to trigger the opening of the double doors of the orphanage, for at that very moment it opened to the accompaniment of several shrieks and squeals. Children of all ages and sizes funneled out, calling Robert’s name and throwing themselves into his arms as he knelt down with a smile. Rachel watched the spectacle with a tightening throat and a remembrance of so many dreams of husband and father…
Then he stood, taking one of the younger girls into his arms as he sent Rachel a small smile. “This is Rachel, everyone.”
The children swarmed around Rachel then, taking hold of her hands as they asked all types of questions. After several hundred had been asked and left unanswered, she laughed, the fear retreating from the bombardment of laughter and childish giggles accompanied by the soft expression on Robert’s face.
~~~
Rachel watched him absently, the internal silence ringing with intrigue and curiosity as he explained to the children what he intended for the small book of stories. The children had gathered around his chair in the orphanage’s small library and looked much like a living blanket. One young girl on his right leg and a young boy on his left, at least half a dozen boys and girls gathered around his feet, and two children hanging on each arm of the chair as they listened with rapt attention.
A soft touch at Rachel’s arm drew her attention. A young girl, April she believed, stood at the arm of Rachel’s chair. Her blue eyes were striking within her pale skin, with this framed by dark brown hair plaited in two long braids. She wore a simple dress of blue with a white overlay, part of the orphanage’s uniform. April appeared to be nine years of age, with a sad expression in eyes and face that made her appear almost… wistful. Yet, when she smiled, as she smiled now, that wistfulness seemed more hopeful than sad.
“You’re very pretty,” April said, her tone hushed and timid.
One side of Rachel’s lips lifted. “Thank you. I thought the same of you.”
April’s pale cheeks flushed. “You think so?”
“I wouldn’t have said so if I didn’t.” Rachel adjusted one of April’s braids to the front. “Why don’t you go stand with the others?” she asked carefully. “Don’t you wish to hear about the stories in the book?”
April shook her head, smile remaining. “That’s alright. I didn’t want you to be by yourself.”
“I appreciate the thought, young miss.”
“Can you call me April?” she asked, eyes suddenly wide.
“Of course, if you’d like.”
April nodded. “I would like it very much.” Then she leaned back a bit and focused her gaze behind Rachel’s chair. “Bobby,” she called in a whisper, “you can come and say ‘hello’. She’s very nice.”
A muffled voice behind was heard to say, “I know. He said that she was.”
“Then why won’t you come out? I thought you wanted to meet her?” April pressed, voice still a low whisper.
Rachel continued to regard the girl’s gently intense expression, not noticing the softening of her own.
“I don’t know,” came a muffled reply. “What if she doesn’t like me?”
April softly giggled. “Oh, Bobby. You silly, of course she’ll like you. Papa said so.”
Rachel blinked. “‘Papa’?”
April’s smiling face focused once more on Rachel. She nodded and then smiled at Robert, intercepting his wink. “He said it was alright for us to call him that. Because Bobby and I haven’t had a Papa longer than the others.” April again looked to Rachel. “And we love him as if he were our Papa, so Bobby and I decided that it would be okay.”
“It sounds as though you and Master Bobby put a very lot of thought into that decision.”
April’s eyes crinkled at the corners with her giggle as she again leaned back to speak to the boy hiding behind Rachel’s chair. “Ooo, Bobby. She called you ‘master’. Doesn’t that make you feel so grown up?”
Silence followed the statement, but Rachel could have sworn she heard the shuffle of material. He had likely shrugged.
April’s expression grew suddenly serious and concerned. “You’re being very different today, Bobby. Are you alright?”
Another shuffle of material.
April focused her concerned blue eyes on Rachel. “He’s not normally this shy.” Then she again looked behind the chair. “I thought you wanted to meet her,” she reminded gently.
At yet another shuffle of material, Rachel stood and slowly moved around to the back of the chair. Bobby was positioned on the floor with his back against her chair and his knees up to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around them. Blond-headed with a light complexion only little darker than April’s, Bobby had a boyishly handsome face and looked to be only a little older than April, perhaps closer to eleven years of age. He also seemed to be growing into the age of awkward height and lank.
Rachel knelt, immediately noticing how Bobby’s arms tightened slightly around his legs as he ducked his head a little lower. “I’ve wanted to meet you,” she said in a quietly calm tone, immediately noticing a slight shift in his eyelashes as he briefly looked toward her. “Ever since your papa showed me your pictures and told me a little bit about you. Only…” Her sudden silence drew another quick glance, and Rachel lowered her gaze. “Only I thought you might not like me.”
April knelt beside Bobby, eyes wide as she watched Rachel’s face. “But why not?” she asked in a hushed voice.
Rachel met April’s gaze, watching Bobby from the corner of her eye as he slightly lifted his chin. “I’m very different from your Papa,” Rachel said. “You’re familiar with him, but not with me.”
“But Papa told us about you,” April reminded, and then her smile returned. “Papa likes you, so we knew we would like you, too.”
A small smile softened Rachel’s features. “I’m glad of that. It’s quite scary to meet new people, isn’t it?”
April nodded, her pretty and expressive face showing serious agreement.
Rachel slowly and cautiously focused her attention on Bobby, intercepting hesitant green eyes and an uncertain expression. He was the most beautiful boy she had ever seen.
“Hello,” she voiced very softly.
Bobby lowered his gaze. “Hello.”
“May I sit beside you?”
Quick glance. “Alright.”
Rachel very carefully adjusted her position to the space beside him, rearranging her skirts before again focusing on his down-turned face and intercepting his sidelong glance. “I am happy to meet you,” she told him, careful to keep her voice as low as possible.
However, Bobby didn’t move his focus from the intense scrutiny of his knees.
April watched Bobby for a silent collection of moments before resting a hand on his arm. “Bobby…” she encouraged. “What’s the matter?”
Bobby lowered his head, and to Rachel’s horror he confessed “She looks like Mamma,” in a quiet and sad voice.
“Oh,” April whispered, and her hand didn’t leave his arm.
Then Bobby lowered his head to rest his forehead against his knees.
Rachel couldn’t help but place her hand on his back near his shoulder. He didn’t cringe or flinch, as she had expected, he only sniffed. Sadness tightened her throat as she watched him, remembering how Robert had described him as a boy who made it a point of seeing the positive in every harsh situation. How hard he must be struggling to do so here…
Rachel lifted her hand to softly stroke and smooth the hair on the back of the boy’s head. “I’m sorry, Bobby,” she offered.
“Don’t be sorry,” he said, voice muffled. “It’s alright that you do.” Then Bobby took in a deep breath and released it slowly, sounding another sniff as he adjusted his arms around his legs and his forehead against his knees. “I know why Papa likes you,” he confessed in a muffled voice. When he lifted his head, he focused on Rachel with a somewhat weak smile and dark green eyes.
Rachel’s expression softened, her hand again stroking his hair before giving his back a comforting rub. “And why is that?”
Bobby wiped under his nose with his sleeve. “You’ve a kind heart.”
A phrase she hadn’t heard paired with her since almost before she could remember. Do I? “Thank you, Bobby.” Do I?
He nodded, rubbing first one eye and then the other with the back of each hand.
Then the chair behind them creaked, causing the three to look up into the softly concerned and yet smiling face of Robert as he leaned his arm against the top of the chair. “Hey,” he greeted softly. “Is everything all right back here?”
April and Bobby both nodded. “Oh yes, Papa,” April said. “Bobby was just sad because she looks like his mamma.”
Robert moved around to crouch in front of Bobby, the concerned expression a bit more prominent as his hands gently enfolded the boy’s arms. “Are you all right?” Robert asked softly, the gentle tone arresting Rachel’s focus.
Bobby nodded.
The concern on Robert’s face lessened and he gave the boy’s arms a brief pressure before releasing them. “Thank you for keeping Miss Samson company, Bobby. April.” Robert sent Rachel a small smile before refocusing on the pair. “I might need you to pay special attention to her still, as I believe Emily, Hannah, Jeremiah and the others have a few special demands on my attention. Something mentioned of special pictures and stories and whatnot. Is that all right?”
“Oh yes, Papa,” April agreed, voice hushed but excited.
Robert softly pinched her nose, eliciting a giggle, and then reached over and tousled Bobby’s head of blond hair. The young boy grinned. Then Robert focused on Rachel, offering her a smile that looked to be a combination of encouragement and thanks. Rachel returned his smile, though hers felt more reserved and guarded. Standing, Robert gave all three a boyish wink before moving back to the very excitedly chattering group of younger boys and girls. April focused glittering blue eyes on Rachel, shoulders raised in a happy shrug as she clasped her hands together. “See why we love him? He’s wonderful.”
Bobby chuckled and shook his head, welcoming a shove from April and a scold of “Be quiet, Bobby. You love him, too,” as Rachel watched and listened in odd silence.
~~~
“I’m glad that you enjoyed yourself, Rachel,” Robert told her as the carriage journeyed away from the orphanage.
Rachel lightly fanned herself, her focus on the scenery outside. “Thank you for having me.”
As Robert watched her profile, he couldn’t read anything from her expression save the usual calm and firm control. But he still heard her laughter as she had listened to the tales and stories of the children. He could still see the twinkling of her eyes as she had watched their faces while they spoke of him and their adventures together. He had recognized that expression. He had recognized the calm as more natural. More… peaceful.
“I had no idea you were such an avid child lover,” he confessed softly. “It was remarkable to see how they all took to you.”
Truth be told, it had made him a little envious. Of those looks of love and happiness he had seen so clear on her face when with them. Those are the very gazes I hope to see directed toward me, Lord. One day.
“And to see the look of devotion and love on their faces when they look at you was proof enough they see you as the parent they lost.” Rachel’s calm emerald gaze finally met his brown one. “You should feel honored to be so highly adored.”
“I am,” he said quietly.
“Have you ever thought of adopting a pair of them to give them a family lost?”
Robert lowered his gaze to the pipe in his hands, forgetting now when he had taken it out of his inner suit-coat pocket. “I have.” But what family without a mother?
“But what family would they have without a mother?” Rachel asked, leading.
Robert smirked. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”
Rachel continued to regard him in thoughtful silence, making him wonder if she knew that he planned to broach the subject with her as the day for their joining drew closer. You know how long I’ve prayed for the opportunity to give some of these children families. Yes. I know I’ve led so many to homes around the country, but what of Bobby and April? Each year they grow older, putting them past the age that everyone seems to want… And each year he felt more and more a call to take the role of ‘Father’ upon himself.
But would Rachel have the same call?
~~~
The carriage rumbled to a stop outside the main gate, waiting for it to be opened and ushering in an odd silence as the pair within waited for their inevitable parting.
Robert faced her, giving her hand a gentle pressure. “I think I had better excuse myself from your company for the next few days,” he confessed softly.
The carriage rumbled forward again as Rachel’s scrutiny moved to his face. His expression seemed guarded for the very first time in her acquaintance of him. “Why?” she asked simply.
Clearing his throat, he lowered his focus. “I need to spend some time in prayer. Time for focus on purposes rather than the next feeling.” Robert sighed and looked up. “A relationship is a delicate thing, Rachel, and I would rather not jeopardize ours. Not so early.” His lips twitched upward as a softer and more boyish expression soothed away the seriousness. “Just a day or so. Mortals can’t survive perfection for too long a time.”
Rachel regarded him in surprising calm for a long moment before nodding and accepting his secondary squeeze to her hands and his boyish smile of relief.
“Thank you.”
Then the carriage pulled to a stop outside the front steps of the estate and the driver had climbed down to open the door. Robert stepped out, immediately turning to offer her his hand and steady her descent. He smiled down at her for a brief moment before leaning forward to kiss her softly on each cheek. The tenderness of each touch ushered Rachel to a wondering at the different calm that had settled within. It wasn’t as cold. It was more… comfortable. As at the orphanage.
Straightening, Robert gathered her hands and promised, “I will have a surprise waiting for you in the morning.”
Then he kissed each hand, releasing them to tip his hat toward her, and finally turned away. He gave the order for the carriage to move on as he disappeared inside. Once it lurched forward, Robert slid down the glass to lean out, removing his hat in a gentlemanly salute while offering a somewhat serious expression of farewell.
Rachel smirked, but as she watched the carriage depart, the smile softened. Within and without.