A Heart Made for Love Read online

  Garth was proud that she wanted to become educated and polished, and that she wanted to help women who were not assured, or educated, or emotionally prepared for the circumstances life may have dropped them into. She wanted to be a tower of strength for others. Much like her mother, she never wanted anything for herself. Ruth, if you could see this child now you would be so proud. You’d say, ‘Garth, if she’s ready, let her fly!’ That’s the problem, Ruth, I’m not sure I’m ready for her to fly. She has suffered so much. Losing you. Having to grow up so quickly without you to lean on. As if that wasn’t bad enough, to be violently attacked by strangers. Sometimes I think your soul has come back and taken up residence in her body, Ruth. She has become a woman, practically overnight, and there’s nothing I can do to change that.

  Garth became aware that Mae was speaking to him. “Yes, honey, I’m all right. You just have to slow down a little and let this old man catch up to you. You’re going ninety to nothing, and I’m still stuck back there on the idea that my little girl is growing up and there’s nothing I can do to stop it!”

  Chapter Four

  Today was going to be a beautiful but hot June day. The cool of the night was long gone, and the sun had been up for only a few hours. By noontime they would all feel drained by the humidity. However, Mae did not intend to let the discomfort of the onset of summer in Florida steal her joy in this day. She was moving. She was moving forward to what she felt in her heart was part of the Lord’s plan for her. He would not have given her such a depth of curiosity if He had not intended for her to go to school where she could fill her need for knowledge of all things. Well, maybe not all things, and for certain not all at once. She smiled at her own foolishness. She had the rest of her life to travel on this journey of learning.

  What she needed to learn right now was how to be patient, and try not to swallow up the whole of knowledge in one big bite. She almost laughed aloud. She could remember when Mama would tell her, “Slow down, baby girl; one small bite at a time is the way to enjoy pie. If you gobble it all up in a rush, you’ll miss how good it tastes, and you won’t be happy with the bellyache it gives you.” Well, Mae would slow down, take all this newness in, one bite at a time, and savor each day—starting with this one.

  Mae stepped into the dining room where Mrs. Peters had set their lunch basket on the table. The very efficient little lady had already cleared the table from breakfast and was placing the last of the cookies in the basket. Mae had been right in her choice for a housekeeper for Papa and the boys. Even Papa admitted that Mrs. Peters was a cheerful soul and an above-average cook. Of course, Samuel had put on at least ten pounds in the two weeks she had been with them. That was a good thing. At sixteen, the boy was already over six feet. It had happened so suddenly that he looked like a scarecrow, all arms and long legs.

  She would miss Papa and both the boys, but Samuel was dear to her heart. He had been so worried about her after the event. He never said much, but he was always near, always watching for a break in Mae’s armor, or a sign that she was frightened or in pain. She had awakened in the night, many times, to find Samuel asleep on the floor just inside her bedroom door. When she would rise in the morning, her faithful guardian would be gone. Now she was leaving him.

  He had come to her one evening, several weeks ago, and just stood, looking at her.

  “All right, Samuel,” she’d said. “Out with it.”

  Samuel had given her that slow almost-smile of his. “Are you sure about this? You’re not just trying to run from somethin’ here, are you? I mean, are you all better now? You’re ready to be on your own?”

  As her eyes had filled with loving tears, she put her arms around his neck to hold him close. Suddenly she realized just how much he had grown. “Good heavens!” Mae exclaimed. “Just when did you gain three inches on me?” She held him close, smelled the scent of pine, and felt a deep sense of love and loss. Neither of them were children anymore. The event had forced both of them to an awakening of the world around them, forced them to acknowledge that life was not a pre-written book, that unforeseen, often painful happenings could alter perceptions, needs, and beliefs.

  She had set a goal for herself and was moving toward it.

  Samuel had also chosen a path. He had adopted Hansu as a mentor. The old gentleman had been with them since Mae was a baby. Papa used to tell them the story of how Hansu entered their lives with the “singing” steam engine for the sawmill. Hansu had tutored Samuel in woodworking and a type of fighting, something called martial arts, as soon as Samuel learned to slip away from Mama. Mae had been amazed one day when she came upon them behind the washhouse. She had watched the eight-year-old Samuel close his eyes, take a slow, deep breath, then give a scream and kick a bare foot toward a board that Hansu was holding. She was not sure who was more surprised when the board broke, she or Samuel. Samuel had always been an intense child. Mama tried to teach him to talk things out. It was her way of helping Samuel cope with a short fuse and bad temper. With Mama gone, Samuel drew further into himself.

  From the start Hansu had been quick to see the potential in him. The woodworking gave Samuel a creative outlet. He was producing some beautiful pieces of furniture, while his physical training gave him a means of burning up any anger or frustrations he held inside. The combination of both was producing a young man with a quiet but self-confident manner, and a loving brother who recognized her need to move on.

  Garth came in from the barn and stopped short when he caught sight of Mae. There she stood, tall for a woman, at least five foot ten inches. Her long, dark-brown tresses had been twisted up into one of those newfangled styles. He could blame Doc Walters for that. Doc was the one always bringing her those darn ladies’ magazines with the new patterns and pictures of women in New York or wherever those ideas came from. She was standing there now in a dress she’d made using her Mama’s sewing machine. It was a soft green thing with tucks that accentuated her shapeliness and ruffles around the bottom that sashayed when she moved. She was holding a large white hat with green flowers and a large green bow. She looked sweet and innocent, and it scared the daylights out of him.

  He had to remind himself that she was, through no fault of her own, not as innocent of the world as he would have wished. It pained him to know she had gained this composure she presented to the world through pain, humiliation, and months of recovery. He knew she had every right to stand there before the world and declare herself ready. She was ready to learn, to grow, and to conquer any who would try to prevent her from doing so. He was so damn proud of her he could hardly swallow past the knot in his throat. Ah, Ruth, I hope you can see this beautiful creature you gave birth to.

  Mae turned to her Papa and saw the mistiness in his eyes. She smiled and took a moment to soak up the sight of him. This man who had loved her mother so dearly that he still talked to her on occasion, who had raised his children with a firm hand backed by relentless love. This man who did not want to but would let her go, because it was time. She tried to lighten the moment. “So how do I look, Papa?” she asked.

  “Like a piece of key lime pie, girl,” he replied.

  Mae laughed with delight. “Well, I’ll probably be melted by the time we get on the train. My bags are on the wagon, and Mama’s sewing machine is safe in the crate Samuel built for it, so…” She trailed off, looking around her. Her gaze made a pass around the house, resting a moment on Mama’s Bible in the corner. She gave a deep sigh and returned her gaze to her Papa. “It’s time.” Mae turned and headed for the door.

  Mae, Papa, and Samuel were taking a wagon to Lake City, where they would get on the train to Tallahassee. Papa and Samuel both had business in Tallahassee. Papa wanted to talk to some builders about a project. Samuel had an appointment to meet with a friend of Doc’s who owned a dry goods store and was interested in the furniture Samuel had been making.

  Cyrus would be staying at home with Hansu and Mrs. Peters. The youngest of Ruth’s children had been gifted with her affini
ty for animals. Now fourteen, he had decided years ago he would be a veterinarian. He was constantly trying to pump Doc Walters for healing ideas for his menagerie of animals.

  He had been six years old when his mama died. He’d been raising goats and cows and chickens ever since. Ruth had always felt it was better to raise your own food. That way you knew what you were eating.

  From the time Cyrus could walk, he’d toddled after Ruth, gathering eggs, throwing corn into the hog pen, and running from the goats. Ruth had stressed the point that the animals were not our friends or companions but food given to us by the good Lord. If you wanted a pet, it would have to be a dog or cat, or maybe a bird, but not something you would have to help slaughter. Ruth’s wisdom had saved the family a lot of grief over the years.

  Cyrus was now standing, straight and solemn, by the wagon. Hansu was standing behind him, as if to support him if need be. Mae walked to her little brother and looked him up and down. He was the spitting image of Papa, with that black hair and chiseled jaw. He’d gotten those blue eyes from his grandpa and his sweet smile from his mama.

  “Cyrus, how sweet of you to stay clean long enough to hug me goodbye,” she whispered in his ear as she enveloped him in a hug. Golly Moses, he was growing; he was up to her shoulders now, and he was four years her junior.

  She looked to Hansu and said, “Now, you take care of our boy, Hansu. I wouldn’t leave him with just anyone, you know.” Hansu gave a wide smile, deepening the wrinkles across his leathered face.

  “You no worry, Missy. Young master be fine with Hansu.” The old man had been standing in the background for years, taking care of each of them in his own way. He had been right about the steam engine singing for him—and it was still singing

  Mae took her Papa’s hand, climbed up into the wagon, and adjusted her beautiful hat on her curls. She had no way of knowing this journey would start a chain of events that would turn all their lives upside down.

  Chapter Five

  Mae was so excited she was sure she would not sleep a wink. It had been six months since she’d seen her family, and tomorrow they were coming for a week-long Christmas visit. The Finches had graciously invited them to stay for the holidays.

  Mae recalled the first day they had met Mrs. Finch. They had taken the wagon to Lake City, and then climbed aboard the Pensacola & Georgia Railroad to make the last leg of the trip to Tallahassee. It was near dusk when the hired buggy from the station pulled up in front of a sprawling, two-story Victorian home.

  Mae was struck dumb by the size of the house. Not so Samuel.

  “Good golly Moses!” he exclaimed. “Are you sure only two people live here? There’re enough rooms here for half of Trenton!”

  “That’s enough, Samuel. You don’t want anyone to think we’re uncivilized. You’ll embarrass your sister, and remember, she’s the one who’ll be living here,” Garth said in a firm voice, just as a footman opened the gate.

  The tall footman was dressed all in black and had a deep, gruff voice. “Young sir, I’ll take your bags up to your rooms. You may take the buggy down the side alley to the back, and we’ll unload the trunks, and that crate there,” he said with a sideways look at the crated sewing machine.

  Papa helped Mae down from the buggy, and she stood looking up at the house that held such dreams for her future. She could see the lace curtains hanging in the lower windows. The lamps shone through like veiled eyes, beckoning her. A pair of matching rocking chairs sat to each side of a dainty little table on the front porch. It looked like the perfect place to sip lemonade and watch the world go by. As they were ushered up the stairs, Mae noticed the hand-stitched pillows on each chair and was given over to a moment of sadness.

  Her mama would have loved those pillows and the chairs, and oh, just the whole peacefulness of this place would have pleased Mama so much. Mae swallowed the lump in her throat as the front door opened and a woman stepped out. She was of average height, around sixty years old, and might have gone unnoticed on the street—that is, if she had worn a bonnet.

  She had the purest white hair Mae had ever seen. It looked soft and thick, styled high on her head. Mae was sure she remembered seeing the same fashion in the last batch of magazines Doc brought her.

  “Oh, you’re here! I’m so excited to meet you, dear. My brother speaks very highly of you, and of your family. It will be wonderful having a young lady in this house for a while, someone I can talk with about sewing, fashions, and socials—all the things my poor husband has had to listen to for a long time.” As Mrs. Finch paused to catch her breath, Papa stepped forward and took her hand.

  “Ma’am, it is a pleasure to meet you. I can’t tell you how much we all appreciate you, and Mr. Finch, for allowing Mae this opportunity to spread her wings a little.”

  Louise Finch seemed taken aback at Papa’s gallantry. Mae smiled to herself. Mama had always insisted on good manners in her home. It was obvious Mrs. Finch had expected a man who owned and operated a sawmill to be less than genteel. Mae was never more proud of her papa than at this moment. It was the first time she had looked at him as a man and not just her father. He was handsome, personable, and still a young man.

  Before Mae could continue that thread of thought, Mrs. Finch swept them into the parlor and offered them cool drinks. A young maid came to the door and ushered Samuel inside. Mae was pleased when he turned to the young lady and smiled.

  “Thank you, ma’am. I would have lost my way without you.” He then turned to Mrs. Finch and said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Any sister of Doc Walters must be a remarkable lady.”

  Mrs. Finch burst out laughing and exclaimed, “Young man, just the fact that I lived through being Martin Walters’ sister is remarkable!”

  Mr. Finch was not home yet. He was meeting a client for dinner. After a light supper, the rest of the evening was something of a blur to Mae. For the past ten hours, she’d been soaking up new sights and sounds. She was starting to feel a little overwhelmed by the time Mrs. Finch took them all up to their rooms.

  Color was the first thing Mae became aware of when she entered her room. There were soft pink walls, cool white furniture, and a beautiful rose print bedspread. Mae heard a light tap on the door, a pause, and then a smiling woman wearing a crisp apron entered. “Miss, is there anything I can do to help you get ready for bed? Would you like a bath before retiring?”

  Mae was unprepared for this kind of luxury. “Oh, thank you, ma’am, but I couldn’t ask someone to carry water this late in the evening.”

  The woman looked at the floor and tried to contain her smile. “It’s no trouble, miss. We have a water closet and bathing room on this end of the house. The water is piped in from the cistern out back.”

  “Oh,” Mae whispered, “I see.”

  Mae blushed now, remembering how naive she had been just six months ago.

  It had taken time for her to adjust to living in the city. The few days Papa and Samuel were there with her had flown by, and then she was alone.

  Oh, never alone. Mrs. Finch had allowed her to rest for a day or so and settle into the household, and then began a whirlwind of activity.

  She and Mrs. Finch took a carriage to the shopping area in town. Mae was wearing one of the three “town” dresses she’d sewn herself. It was of a pale blue lawn, with little hand-embroidered violets strewn over the close-fitting bodice. Mae had altered the original pattern, as she was not fond of its “pigeon chest” look. She kept the neckline modest and used only her meticulous embroidery as trim. The skirt was full, with a slight bustle. The underskirt was a darker blue that showed about two inches below the sheer lawn overskirt. Altogether, it was feminine and age-appropriate for a young woman. She had fashioned a small white hat out of a piece of satin that Hansu had given her.

  Mae never asked the little man where he got the little bits of lace and trims he would present to her. Yet it always seemed that, as soon as she decided it would be nice to have something, Hansu would show up with something even
better suited.

  The carriage stopped in front of a building standing alone. “Mae, the lady who owns and operates this shop is a widow. Her husband was coming home from a business trip when he was shot, robbed, and left for dead only two years ago. She had to start a business to support herself and her young son. She has a wonderful eye for what best suits each woman. Our church ladies supported her for a short while, until she was able to stand on her own. It didn’t take long for the word to get out that if you wanted the most stylish, newest fashions, you had to come to Taylor’s.”

  Mae was assailed by color as they stepped inside. There were bolts of vibrantly hued fabric arrayed on several tables on one side of the room. It was like the Lord had splashed a rainbow across one whole side. The other side of the room held a settee and three brocade side chairs, each separated from the next by a small table covered in beautiful silk. On the tables were platters of cookies, steaming teapots, and pitchers of lemonade.

  The woman who walked toward them was stunning. Her red hair was the color of aged copper, and not a strand was out of place. When she smiled at them, Mae felt a warm glow. The woman’s smile radiated her kindness, which pulled at Mae’s heart.

  “Hello, Mrs. Finch, how are you today?” Eleanor Taylor enquired as she approached her visitors.

  “I’m wonderful, dear,” Mrs. Finch replied. “I would like for you to meet Miss Mae Hinton. She has been kind enough to agree to stay with Mr. Finch and me while she studies at the university.”

  “How lovely for you and Mr. Finch. It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Hinton. And if it wouldn’t be too forward, might I ask where you purchased that fine dress?”

  Mae blushed and answered, “Please, ma’am, just call me Mae. I made this dress myself.”