Five

Magdalene spotted Chandler from the bedroom window. “Stay with the children,” she called over her shoulder to Mrs. Lindsay. She ran down the stairs, out the door, and straight toward him. He caught her in his arms, but quickly distanced himself from her, holding her at arms’ length.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” When he loosened his hold, she fell against him, sobbing into his shirt. He stood ramrod straight, arms at his sides. The pounding of his heart echoed his anger. Magdalene backed away from him, wiping her tears on the sleeve of her gray cotton dress.

With trepidation, she raised her eyes to his face. Clenched teeth and a throbbing jaw muscle only confirmed what she already knew. Chandler Alexandre was livid and she was the cause.

“What were you thinking, Magdalene?” He spun away from her and raked his hand through his hair. “Do you have any idea what my father may do when he gets hold of that article?”

She nodded, a fresh spray of tears dampening her cheeks. “I only hoped to help.”

Chandler turned back and faced her. “I gave you a whole list of things you could do to help. Did you bother with those?” His face reddened as he spit out the words.

She shook her head. Guilty and deserving his anger, Magdalene focused on the ground. “I’ll start right away.” She turned toward the house, but his next words stopped her.

“Don’t bother.”

“But—” She spun back around.

His gaze shot fire and his words seethed with anger. “What good will planning a charity ball do now? Who would buy tickets to support this place since Sam Starr’s article has damaged our reputation? Why would anyone in his right mind support an institution accused of fraud?”

“Then I’ll write to the churches in the area, as I’d originally planned.” She raised her chin, determined to find a way to undo this mess she’d created.

Chandler shoved his hands into his pockets, shaking his head. A grim expression settled over his face. He let out a long breath, and with it some of the anger seemed to dissipate, but the hopelessness left behind wrenched Magdalene’s heart.

“Our reputation is on the line.” He spoke softly, in a monotone. “We’re no longer a credible institution. No pastor or church will risk its money on us. Even our own church yesterday—before all the bad publicity—had little interest in helping us. It’s over, Magdalene. We have no funds and nowhere to turn.” His words pierced her heart with unbelievable pain.

Chandler turned and walked toward the orphanage. His shoulders drooped with the weight of his burden. The closing of the front door echoed the finality of their future.

Magdalene collapsed on the grass, tears cascading down her cheeks and sobs wracking her entire body. What was wrong with her? She rarely cried. Now, it seemed it was all she did. Father, please help us. Forgive me for my impetuous action. I only wanted to help. . . .

She’d never forget the anger marring Chandler’s handsome face—the face she’d grown to love. He was hurting as much as she. Their world, their future collapsed around them. She’d planned to grow old here, pouring her life and care into needy children. He apparently had the same plans. Now, he surely must hate her.

Horse hooves on the road caught her attention. A shiny new black Calash rolled behind two bay beauties. The driver slowed the horses and reined them into the orphanage driveway. In the seat behind him sat Mr. and Mrs. Alexandre.

Magdalene yearned to turn and run, but instead stood and faced the approaching buggy. The Alexandres had never visited once in the three years since the orphanage opened, so she knew this was not a friendly, just-in-the-neighborhood kind of visit. No, they’d read the article and came to heap more guilt upon her head.

The driver nodded at Magdalene and pulled the horses to a stop. He then climbed down and offered Mr. Alexandre a hand as he exited. Chandler’s father’s beady eyes focused on her, rooting her to the very spot where she stood. Mr. Alexandre turned to help his wife down.

Magdalene forced herself to walk toward them, her resolve strengthening with each step. “Sir, Ma’am, I need to apologize for this mess I’ve made.”

Mr. Alexandre appeared surprised by her approach, as if he’d expected her to turn tail and run. He only glared at her, but in Mrs. Alexandre’s kind eyes, Magdalene spotted an ally.

“This is all my fault. Chandler had nothing to do with any of it. Why, he felt as surprised as you when he read the article earlier today.”

His expression remained unmoved. “You’re his employee. He is responsible for your actions.”

“I only wanted to help, Sir. I’d never intentionally do anything to hurt Chandler, this orphanage, or your family. When Mr. Baxter died, we lost our funds. I thought if I could evoke public sympathy, support would pour in.”

“You obviously thought wrong.” His voice held a cold edge.

Magdalene bit her lip. If there were anything in her life she could undo, it would be this. Unfortunately, life offered no do-overs.

Mr. Alexandre walked past her, toward the front door. Grabbing his arm, she pleaded, “Please, Sir, I beg your forgiveness. Don’t reprimand Chandler. This isn’t his fault.” The words spilled forth, filled with deep emotion and humility. He never turned back or even glanced at her. Instead, he knocked her hand off his arm like a pestering insect and strode toward the orphanage.

“I’ll try to buffer the situation.” Mrs. Alexandre stopped and patted Magdalene’s arm. “I’m always the peacemaker between those two. I know you didn’t intend to make this huge mess.”

Magdalene nodded, appreciating the woman’s kindness, but huge mess didn’t begin to describe the havoc she’d sown.

“Are you coming?” Mr. Alexandre bellowed from the porch.

Mrs. Alexandre nodded her gray head, smiled an understanding smile, and squeezed Magdalene’s hand. Magdalene watched her join her husband on the porch. Father, please be with Chandler. Give him patience and wisdom, and enable him to forgive me for the pain I’ve caused him.

❧

Chandler watched the scene unfold from his office window. He didn’t want to feel compassion for Magdalene, but his heart responded to her bravery. Normally shy and unassuming, she faced them with courage and humility. Deep down, he knew this wasn’t her fault, at least not directly.

His anger moved from Magdalene to his father when he observed the way he treated her. At least his mother had been there and treated Magdalene gently. His mother, forever the harmony seeker. He hoped and prayed she’d someday commit her life to Christ. She often seemed close.

Chandler moved away from the window and reached the front door just as his father pounded with fervor. He swung the door open, nearly catching a fist in the stomach as his father continued to pound.

“Father, Mother—how good to see you both.” Chandler’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “And what a pleasant surprise. So good of you to drop by after all these years to see where your son lives and works.” All the bitterness from all the years of his father’s disapproval rose within him.

“That’s enough disrespect!” His father’s face glowed red from his anger.

“Do come in.”

His mother sent him a pleading glance, and Chandler led them to his office and closed the door. His father scrutinized the tiny room.

“Please have a seat.” Chandler gestured to the two uncomfortable chairs facing his desk. Secretly, he took pleasure in thinking of his father sitting in one. Archard Alexandre had probably never sat on anything so atrocious in his entire life.

Chandler walked around the desk and settled in his own chair, not much different than theirs, except his rolled and Mrs. Lindsay had sewn a pillow for his seat.

His mother gingerly lowered herself on the edge of her seat, too much a lady to complain. She straightened the skirts on her floral-printed dress. Instead of sitting, his father stood behind the empty chair, his hands gripping the back.

“I know you’ve come because of the news article featured today, and I know Magdalene has already apologized profusely. What else can be said that hasn’t already been said?” Chandler watched the pulse pound on the side of his father’s forehead.

“You need to make this right!” His squinted eyes glared their disapproval.

“How?” Chandler rubbed his cheek and chin in frustration. “I’ve done nothing but think the entire day. I have no answers. What would please you, Father?”

“I want you to get the reporter fellow to retract his implications about me, then I want you to close this place down and come to work for me.”

Chandler closed his eyes, taking a calming breath. It’s what his father had always desired. A controlling man, he hadn’t been able to manipulate Chandler, and the fact drove him crazy. Would he never give up?

“You know I can’t. I have an obligation to these children.” Chandler shook his head, knowing his father only used the situation for his own gain.

“What of your obligation to family? You’ve hurt your mother and me.” He threw in his mother, knowing she was Chandler’s Achilles heel. Chandler loved his mother deeply; she’d been his saving grace as he grew up.

“Father, there’s been little in this life you and I have ever agreed on, but I would never intentionally damage our family name or your reputation. You have my word.”

“Well, you did. Now find a way to make things right!” He turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.

Chandler’s gaze met his mother’s distraught one, and both jumped at the slamming of the front door.

“I’d better go. I don’t wish to increase his wrath.”

Chandler walked his mother to the Calash where his father already waited, tapping his foot on the floorboard. After a quick hug, his mother climbed aboard and they were off. Chandler watched until they disappeared around the first bend in the road. Then he strode to the barn, needing a quiet place to think.

In the stillness of the barn, the Holy Spirit brought conviction. Chandler still struggled with anger, even after eight years of knowing the Lord. In the strain since Warren’s death, he’d spent too little time in the Word and too much time in worry. Warren would be disappointed that he’d fallen back into his old pattern. Even worse, God was disappointed.

“Lord, forgive me. I’ve failed You again. Lord, I know all the things taking place today do not surprise You. The question is, what am I to do? The orphanage’s future is grim, and getting married may be the only hope of saving the old place. Is that why You provided me with the trust fund? Is it part of Your plan for my future?

He threw a pitchfork of hay into the cow’s trough, then did the same for both horses. As his mind weighed the events of the day, immense disappointment filled him. He’d failed God so many times on this one short day.

He continued his prayer. I need You to forgive the way I treated the reporter, Magdalene, and my father. I let anger get the best of me, and my actions failed to glorify You. Show me how to make things right.

The word “forgive” kept dancing through his mind. Could he forgive his father for a lifetime of hurts? Could he forgive Magdalene for sending her letter to the paper without his consent? Could he forgive her for the repercussions he’d endured for her impulsive action? Both his relationship with his father and his future were bleaker, and she was responsible.

After Chandler finished with the animals, he moved up the hill to the house. He searched the first floor and couldn’t find Magdalene. The children all read from their McGuffey readers in the schoolroom, but no Magdalene. Taking the stairs two at a time, he found her in the children’s bedroom, rocking Frankie. Her back to the doorway, she didn’t see his approach.

She sang softly and ran her fingers through the child’s dark hair. Her maternal side pulled Chandler’s heartstrings as nothing else could have. An overwhelming tenderness surged through him. Watching her rock their littlest orphan, he knew she’d be a good mother to his future children, and she would willingly work beside him here in the orphanage. But he couldn’t forget her sister’s inviting look and lips. Would Magdalene ever welcome his kiss, his touch?

❧

Rising from the rocker, she laid a sleeping Frankie on his cot and glimpsed Chandler in the doorway. No longer foolish enough to run into those strong arms, she stood firmly planted next to Frankie. She pulled her lips together in a firm line. Don’t be fooled by the tender expression. Friends forgive friends.

“Magdalene,” Chandler whispered. “I need to see you in my office.”

Nodding, she moved toward the doorway. “I’ll check the schoolroom and be right there.” Hurt and somewhat mad, her aloof attitude came easily.

A few moments later, Magdalene joined Chandler in his office. The sight of his head bowed over his Bible chipped away at the grievances she held against him. Upon hearing the door, he closed the leather-bound Book.

“I’m sorry for the way I treated you.” He closed his eyes as if gathering his thoughts. “I’m struggling not to be angry with you, but even so, I shouldn’t have behaved unkindly toward you.”

Wanting to jump to her own defense, she refrained from saying anything and chewed her lower lip.

“I know in my heart—” he moved his hand to his chest “—you meant no harm.”

She focused on the floor. “I really didn’t.”

The dinner bell rang. She longed to turn and run for the table.

“Do you forgive my treatment of you earlier today?” He whispered his request in a raspy voice.

“Yes, and please forgive me for this huge mess.”

“I do.” He sent her a forgiving smile. “Dinner calls.” He opened the door as the children ran past toward the dining room. “Walk,” he warned them. Then he followed her to the table, took his seat, and acted completely normal.