Betsy's Return (14 page)

Betsy shivered against the cold as she stepped out the back door and placed Bristle Face's dish of food on the porch. It wouldn't be long until parts of the canal would have to be drained. Then all the boatmen would look for other jobs during the frigid winter months. Some would find work in the city of Easton, and others would stay near the canal to cut ice or find other jobs that would keep them busy until the spring thaw allowed them to boat again. Betsy wouldn't have as many customers to sew and wash clothes for, but she didn't mind. Hopefully she and William would be able to spend more time together, too.

Sunday after church, he had suggested that the two of them have supper together on Friday evening. That was only a day away now, and she could hardly wait.

A blast of wind whipped against Betsy's skirt, and she pushed her thoughts aside. “Here, Bristle Face! Come get your breakfast!” she called, scanning the yard to see where the terrier might be.

When Betsy saw no sign of the little dog, she clapped her hands and called for him again. A few minutes later, the terrier stuck his head out of a bush where he had obviously been sleeping. He barked, dashed across the yard, leaped onto the porch, and skidded over to his bowl.

“Slow down,” she said with a chuckle. “You can't be that hungry.”

Betsy was tempted to stay and watch the dog eat, but the frigid wind drove her back to the warmth of her kitchen. Once inside she poured herself a cup of tea and was about to take a seat at the table, when she heard a knock at the front door.
I wonder who that could be.

When Betsy opened the door, she was surprised to see Mrs. Bevens standing on the porch, wrapped in a heavy shawl and shivering badly. “I n–need to speak w–with you.”

“Of course. Please come inside where it's warmer.”

Mrs. Bevens nodded curtly and stepped into the hallway.

“If you'd like to go into the kitchen, we can have a cup of tea.”

“That will be fine.”

When they entered the cozy room, Mrs. Bevens took a seat at the table and Betsy went to the cupboard to get another cup and saucer. She filled the cup with hot tea and placed it in front of Mrs. Bevens. “What brings you by on such a chilly morning?”

“I'm here about William.”

Betsy smiled and slipped into the chair opposite the woman. “That was a fine sermon he preached on Sunday morning, wasn't it?”

Mrs. Bevens shrugged, then she picked up her cup and took a sip of tea. “I have known William for most of his life.”

Betsy nodded. “I understand you used to be his nanny.”

Mrs. Bevens squinted as her lips compressed. “I've been widowed for several years and never had any children of my own, but William is like a son to me.” She paused and flicked her tongue across her lower lip. “So as his housekeeper and previous nanny, I feel it's my duty to care for him.”

“I understand.”

Mrs. Bevens shook her head. “No, I don't think you do. I don't believe you have any conception of what William needs or what makes him happy.”

Betsy's face heated up. “I haven't known William nearly as long as you, but we are getting better acquainted, and—”

“I hope you have no designs on him because it wouldn't be right for William to marry someone beneath his social standing.”

Betsy's mouth dropped open, and she set her cup down so quickly that some of the tea spilled out and splashed onto the saucer.

Mrs. Bevens leaned forward slightly and stared hard at Betsy. “If and when William decides to take a wife, he will choose a woman who comes from the same background as himself. Someone like you, who lacks all the necessary social graces, would not make a good wife for the Reverend William Covington III.” Mrs. Bevens drew in a deep breath and released it with a huff. “The only reason William has shown any interest in you is because he's become bored with this little hick town and needs some form of entertainment.”

Betsy blinked as though coming out of a trance. She could hardly believe the things Mrs. Bevens had said to her. Surely they couldn't be true. The William she'd come to know and love couldn't possibly care about money, prestige, or social graces. “William doesn't seem bored,” she said in his defense. “He's done well in his ministry here in Walnutport, and the way he reacts to those in his congregation seems genuine to me.”

Mrs. Bevens took a long, slow drink of tea, and when she set her cup down again, her lips curved into a crooked smile. “I agreed to come here as William's housekeeper as a favor to his mother. She asked me to care for her son and keep an eye on him. She wanted to be sure that no one would ever hurt her boy again.”

“You mean the way Beatrice did?” Betsy asked.

“You know about his fiancée?”

Betsy nodded. “I understand that she left him standing at the altar.”

“That's right, and I'm here to see that it never happens again.”

“I assure you, I'm not like Beatrice. I would never hurt William in such a way.”

Mrs. Bevens pushed her chair away from the table and stood. “I plan to see that you never do.”

Betsy stood, too. “What does that mean?”

“It means that if you do not stop seeing William, I will tell him that you're only interested in him because of his money and that you're looking for a way to climb the ladder of success by marrying into a prestigious family such as his.”

“But that's not true.” Betsy was close to tears, and she gripped the back of her chair tightly, hoping to keep her emotions in check. “I love William, and I think he knows me well enough to realize that I'm not after his family's money.”

Mrs. Bevens tapped her toe against the hardwood floor. “There's something else you should know.”

“What's that?”

“Even if William did choose to accept a commoner such as yourself, his family never could. Would you want to be the one responsible for coming between William and his parents?” She pursed her lips. “Don't make him choose between you and them. If you really love William, prove it by stepping aside so he can find someone who is worthy of being his wife. Someone he would not be ashamed to take home to meet his family. Someone his parents would readily accept.”

Before Betsy could say anything more, Mrs. Bevens turned on her heel and marched out of the room. Betsy heard the front door slam shut. Resting her head on the table, she gave in to her tears.

When Betsy climbed out of bed the following morning, she had made a decision. She couldn't come between William and his family, no matter how much she loved him. The best thing for her to do was return to New York and her position with the Salvation Army, which she probably should have done right after her father died. If she'd left Walnutport sooner, she wouldn't have fallen in love with William and wouldn't be facing this problem.

Betsy's gaze came to rest on the Bible lying on the small table beside her bed. “I love William and would like to be his helper in the ministry,” she murmured, thinking of how God had created Eve as Adam's helpmate. “But I will not come between the man I love and his family, so I have no choice but to remain an old maid and serve God without a husband.”

She hurried to the desk across the room. Opening the top drawer, she removed a piece of paper and a pencil, then she took a seat in front of the desk.
I can't leave Walnutport without telling William good-bye.
Tears coursed down Betsy's cheeks, and she sniffed as she reached up to swipe them away.
I'll write him a note and leave it on the pulpit at church, for I could never say to his face all that's on my heart.

As William stepped into the church on Friday morning, he was overcome with a sense of joy. Tonight he and Betsy would be going on their first official date. He would escort her to the Walnutport Hotel dining room for supper, and tomorrow after they practiced some songs for Sunday, he hoped they could go for a buggy ride along the canal. Maybe by Christmas he would feel ready to ask Betsy to marry him.

Whistling one of his favorite hymns, William made his way to the front of the sanctuary and onto the platform. When he stepped up to the pulpit to place his sermon notes there, he was surprised to see an envelope with his name on it. He quickly tore it open and read the note inside.

William stood for several seconds, letting Betsy's words sink into his brain. “
Not meant to be together ... Returning to New York...”
It made no sense. Betsy was nothing like Beatrice. Or was she?

“What a fool I've been to allow myself to fall in love again. I never should have trusted my heart—or Betsy Nelson. She was obviously toying with my affections.”

William's hands shook as he crumpled the note and jammed it into his jacket pocket.
“You're a wonderful preacher. Walnutport Community Church is fortunate to have you.”
He slammed his hand down on the pulpit, scattering his sermon notes to the floor. He bent to pick them up then slowly, deliberately ripped them in two.

“I'll never be able to preach this message on forgiveness,” he said with a groan. “I may never be able to preach another sermon again.”

He crammed the pieces that were left of his message into his other pocket, bolted off the platform, and rushed out of the church.

As he sprinted through the tall grass growing between the church and the parsonage, his thoughts ran amuck.
Why would Betsy say she loved me and then decide we can't be together? I'm sure it's not about money or prestige. Is she afraid I might ask her to marry me? Does she have reservations about being a pastor's wife?
He clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug into his palms.
Dear God,
he prayed,
help me understand this. Show me what to do.

Inside the parsonage William found Mrs. Bevens sitting in the living room with a piece of needlepoint in her hands. “William,” she said, smiling up at him, “I thought you were going to the church to work on your sermon for Sunday.”

He dropped into the chair across from her and let his head fall forward into his open palms. “I was, but something happened to change all that. I think I'll be getting out of the ministry altogether.”

“Leaving this town behind is a good idea, but don't you think you should try to seek a pastoral position in another church—one that has a larger congregation?”

He lifted his head and stared at her. “I don't care about having a larger congregation, Mrs. Bevens.”

“But if you had more people attending your church, they could pay you more.”

“I'm not worried about money either.” He grimaced. “After reading the note I just found on the pulpit, I'm wondering if God might want me to leave the ministry.”

“Note? What note?”

“From Betsy. She's left Walnutport and is going back to New York.”

Mrs. Bevens released a noisy sigh. “That's good news.”

“What did you say?”

“I said, ‘That's good news.'”

“How can you say such a thing? I told you the other day that I'm in love with Betsy and had planned to ask her to marry me when the time was right.”

Mrs. Bevens gave a quick nod. “And I said Betsy's not the woman for you.”

William thought back to the conversation he'd had with Mrs. Bevens the other day, remembering how adamant she had been, saying Betsy was interested in his family's money and that she thought there had been a conspiracy at church to get the two of them together. Could she have expressed those things to Betsy? Might that be the reason for Betsy's change of heart?

He reached into his pocket and withdrew her crumpled note, lifting it in the air. “Do you know anything about this, Mrs. Bevens?”

She pursed her lips and resumed her needlework. “How would I know anything about that note?”

“Have you spoken with Betsy lately?”

“We did have a brief conversation yesterday morning,” Mrs. Bevens replied with a lift of her chin.

“What about?”

“Oh, just womanly things.”

“What kind of
womanly
things?”

She released an undignified grunt and set her sewing aside. “If you must know, I spoke with her about your future.”

“What about my future?”

“I told Betsy that she's not right for you and explained that your family would never accept someone as common as her.”

“You did what?”

Mrs. Bevens tipped her head and looked at him like he was a little boy who'd done something wrong. “I was trying to protect you from getting hurt again—trying to keep you from making the biggest mistake of your life.”

“Loving her is not a mistake.” He stood. “Betsy is a sweet, caring, beautiful woman, and she would make any man a wonderful wife.”

“Any of the boatmen or townsmen perhaps, but she's not right for you.”

William paced between the fireplace and sofa. “How can you say that? How can you know what kind of woman I need?” He stopped pacing long enough to draw in a deep breath. “I love Betsy, and she loves me. At least that's what she told me before you stuck your nose in where it doesn't belong.”

“I am only concerned for your welfare, William.”

His head began to pound as the realization set in as to why Betsy had written the note. Mrs. Bevens had convinced her that she wasn't good enough for him and that his family would never accept her. It wasn't true—none of it. William didn't need a woman with a fine upbringing, and even if his parents chose not to welcome Betsy into their prestigious family circle, he didn't care. He loved her, and they were meant to be together. He was sure God had brought Betsy into his life, and he needed to bring her back, even if he had to travel all the way to New York, get down on his knees, and beg her to return to Walnutport.

Betsy had decided the best way to get out of town would be to flag down one of the canal boats heading to Easton and ask for a ride. That way she wouldn't have to worry about renting a carriage or asking someone to drive her there. So with her suitcase in one hand and Bristle Face's leash in the other hand, Betsy trudged determinedly toward the canal. It obviously wouldn't work for her to take the dog along, but perhaps she could leave him with Sarah, whose children would probably enjoy having a dog of their own. She would miss the little fellow but was sure he would eventually adjust to his new surroundings. She would miss her friends in Walnutport, too—most of all, William.

As Betsy neared the lock tender's house, tears clouded her vision.
I was so sure things would work out for William and me, but maybe this is all for the best. He will go on with his life and find someone else to love, and I'll go back to my work at the Salvation Army.

She'd found satisfaction in her duties there, but that had been before she met William. Even if she worked around the clock, she would never forget the love she felt for the special man she was leaving behind in Walnutport.

By the time Betsy reached Sarah's front door, she was so worked up she could barely speak. When Sarah's mother-in-law, Maria, answered her knock, it was all Betsy could do to ask for Sarah.

“She's in the kitchen, bakin' bread,” Maria said, nodding in that direction. “Why don't you go in and surprise her?”

Betsy glanced down at Bristle Face. “Is there a place where I can tie the dog?”

“Bring him inside. He can play upstairs with the kids.”

“Are you sure it's all right?”

“Is the critter housebroke?”

Betsy nodded.

“Then he's more than welcome to come in.” Maria smiled and stepped aside.

Betsy set her suitcase inside the door and unhooked Bristle Face's leash. The dog let out a quick bark and darted up the stairs as though he knew exactly where the children were playing.

Maria went to the living room, and Betsy headed for the kitchen. She found Sarah bent over the stove.

“Hello, Sarah. How are you?”

Sarah closed the oven door and whirled around. “Betsy, this is a surprise. I didn't expect to see you today.”

“I ... uh ... came to ask you a favor.”

“What is it?”

“I'm moving back to New York, and I need a home for Bristle Face.”

Sarah's eyebrows drew together. “You're leaving Walnutport?”

Betsy nodded.

“But why? I thought you liked it here. Walnutport's your home, and you've become an important part of our lives.” Sarah took a step toward Betsy. “I was even hoping that you and Pastor William might—”

Betsy held up one hand. “There's no chance of anything happening between me and William.”

Before Sarah could respond, a blaring horn sounded in the distance. “That's a conch shell blowing out there, so I must open the lock for the boat that's coming through.”

Betsy grabbed her suitcase and hurried out the door behind Sarah, thinking this might be her chance to secure a ride. Sure enough, Amos McGregor's boat was lining up at the lock, and he was heading in the direction of Easton.

Betsy waited until the boat was safely through, then she rushed to the edge of the canal and called out to him. “Mr. McGregor, could you give me a ride to Easton?”

At first he tipped his head and looked at her strangely, but then he finally nodded. “Let me drop the gangplank for you, and you can come on board.”

Betsy glanced over at Sarah, who had just closed the lock. “What about my dog? Will you keep Bristle Face?”

Sarah gave a quick nod. “Of course I will, but I really wish you weren't going.”

A lump lodged in Betsy's throat, and she swallowed hard, trying to dislodge it. “It's better that I go. Better for everyone.” She gave Sarah a hug, lifted the edge of her skirt, and hurried up the gangplank.

Amos hollered at his young mule driver to get the mules going again, and the boat moved forward. They'd only gone a short way when someone called Betsy's name. She shielded her eyes from the glaring sun and spotted William running down the towpath, waving his hands. “Stop the boat!”

Betsy looked over at Amos. “Please, keep going.”

Amos nodded and signaled his mule driver to continue walking.

William cupped his hands around his mouth. “I need you to stop the boat, Mr. McGregor! This is an emergency!”

Betsy's heart pounded so hard she could feel the rhythm of it inside her head. Why had William come here? Maybe it wasn't to try and stop her from going to New York. There could actually be an emergency. Perhaps something had happened to someone in Amos's family. “You'd better stop, Mr. McGregor,” she said.

“Hold up them mules!” Amos shouted to his driver, then he dropped the gangplank.

William rushed on board and hurried over to Betsy. “I went by your place, and when I saw your buckboard, I figured you might have come down here, hoping to get a ride on one of the boats.” He reached up to wipe the sweat from his brow. “Thank the Lord I'm not too late.”

“Too late? Too late for what, Preacher?” Amos asked before Betsy could say a word.

“Too late to stop this woman from leaving.” William picked up Betsy's suitcase and took hold of her hand.

“Wh–what are you doing?” she stammered.

“I'm taking you back to Walnutport where you belong.”

She stared up at him as tears dribbled onto her cheeks. “Didn't you get my note?”

He nodded. “I also talked to my housekeeper, and I know about the things she told you yesterday.”

“Then you must realize why I have to leave.”

He leaned closer until his warm breath tickled her nose. “I love you, Betsy, and I don't give a wit about your station in life or my parents' money. If they accept you, I'll be happy and they'll be blessed, but if they choose not to accept you, then it's their loss.”

“Oh William, I can't stand the thought of coming between you and your family.”

“I don't think you have to worry about that. I'm sure once Mother and Father meet you they'll see how wonderful you are and will come to love you as much as I do.” William grinned. “Well, maybe not quite that much.” He dropped to one knee. “Betsy Nelson, I know we haven't had even one official date, but I've come to know you pretty well, and I think you would make a fine preacher's wife. So, after a suitable time of courtship, would you consider marrying me?”

Betsy stood with her mouth hanging open, too stunned to say a word.

Amos nudged her with his elbow. “I can't keep my boat stopped here all day, missy. Would ya answer the preacher's question so I can get on up to Easton with my load?”

Tears coursed down Betsy's cheeks as she smiled at William. “When the time is right, I would be most honored to become your wife.”