Chapter Eight

IF I’D HAD MY WAY, I’d never have set foot in that church or any other—never again. It was all I could do not to break down for the weariness of it all. The mental conflict, the flashing memories, the certainty that rejection would be repeated at every turn built anxiety and anguish in my chest. I feared it might explode any moment. But Aunt Hyacinth had been determined. It was her heart’s desire to go—and evidently had been for a long time. She’d just refused to ask anyone to help her.

“But now you’re here, Lilliana. You’re here and it makes perfect sense that if you’re working as my companion, you would take me—you would insist on taking me. And to tell the truth, I need to go.”

I’d never been able to deny my mother anything, and this dear woman had raised Mama, offered her balm and home. Now she freely offered me the same—with so few questions asked. I could not deny her, but I could not shake feelings of condemnation from the church—any church.

If these people knew me—knew that I’d run away from my husband and father, knew that I wasn’t really the “Miss Grace Belvidere” that Reverend Willard introduced to the congregation—they would surely be shocked.

I felt like that woman from Hawthorne’s novel who wore the scarlet A on her chest. Not that I’d committed adultery—but I’d run away and let them believe a lie about me. What will happen if they learn the truth—when they learn it? If Gerald or Father show up, looking for me? What will that mean, not only for me but for Aunt Hyacinth? I turned away when the woman across the aisle smiled and nodded a greeting. I dared not get close to anyone. Let them think me a snob. Please, God, if You have any mercy, let them not think of me at all.

•••

After service, before I could get Aunt Hyacinth to her feet and out the door, a woman nearly six feet tall and rail thin plowed her way through the congregants to push her hand into mine.

“Welcome to No Creek, Miss Belvidere. We’re mighty glad to have you. I’m Mrs. Mae—call me Ida Mae, everyone does—postmistress and proprietress of the general store, also local midwife on occasion. If I can be of service to you or Miz Hyacinth, you just let me know. I know everyone and everything in the area. You have a question, you ask me. Isn’t that right, Miz Hyacinth? I hope you told her.”

“Yes, I’ve told her all about you, Ida Mae; you may depend on it.” Aunt Hyacinth smiled innocently and gave my hand a conspiratorial squeeze.

“Thank you, Mrs. Mae—Ida Mae. I appreciate that. Right now, I believe I need to get Hyacinth home. It’s been a long morning for her.”

“Well, of course it has, bless her heart. Miz Hyacinth, you know we’re mighty glad you came to church after all this time.” Ida Mae raised her voice as if Aunt Hyacinth were not only blind but beyond deaf. “We’ve missed you, and I’m sure the good Lord is pleased to see you’ve returned to the fold.”

It sounded like a backhanded welcome. I might not take up for myself, but I was ready to give Ida Mae a short retort on Aunt Hyacinth’s behalf when Reverend Willard intervened.

“Two Belvidere women. We are blessed. Thank you, Grace, for bringing our dear friend, and thank you for joining us today. You ladies made the sun come out.”

Ida Mae straightened. “Just as I said, Reverend Willard.”

Reverend Willard winked at me.

Furiously, I blushed—I know I did for the heat that came up my neck. “Hyacinth, we need to get you home.”

“I am feeling a little weary, but, Reverend Willard, I must thank you for that sermon. It was one I needed to hear just now.”

“You take care, Miz Hyacinth. I’ll be up to see you this week as usual. You’ll be ready for me?”

“Of course we will.” Aunt Hyacinth’s smile rang through her vocal cords.

I steered Aunt Hyacinth carefully down the aisle, though one and another of the congregants wanted to stop and speak with her, to welcome her back and say how they’d missed her. At the door, though the reverend was already deep into another conversation, he looked up at me, tipped his head, and mouthed, “Thank you!”

I was glad to be holding on to Aunt Hyacinth, for I might have stumbled if not. I wasn’t used to being appreciated or thanked or even noticed, and it felt foreign, odd, something I didn’t know what to do with. But as Aunt Hyacinth and I walked slowly home, arm in arm, it felt warming, just the same.