Rebecca's Heart (6 page)

He pulled a bouquet of flowers from behind his back then leaned against a mahogany side table that smelled like the fresh beeswax that had been used on the surface to bring out the shine in the wood. “I met the saddest-looking little street vendor on my way here today, and, well”—Luke tugged on his ear then handed her the flowers—“I thought you might like these.”

“They’re beautiful. Thank you.” Rebecca took the bouquet and brought it to her face, drawing in the sweet scent of the buds while smiling at his awkward attempts to woo her. Luke Hutton, with all his family wealth and social position, was acting like a flustered schoolboy. Regardless of her hesitations, she had to admit she found his uncertainty endearing.

She stood then crossed the room to one of the cabinets in the back and fished out an empty vase for the flowers before setting them down on her workbench. “I’ve always thought it’s a pity those poor children have to work such long hours for so little.”

“I agree, but what’s to be done?”

“I have an idea.” She hadn’t meant to share her thoughts with anyone until she’d worked out the details, but now that she’d begun, maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing to get Luke’s insight. “It’s not a solution for the young street vendors of the city, but rather the Mills Street Orphanage.”

“I’d like to hear your idea.” He sat down on the other side of her workbench and rested his elbows against the table.

She fumbled with the flowers, trying to arrange them in the vase, which was slightly too big for the bouquet. With all the other vases being used as displays to complement the furniture, she’d have to make it work.

“Before I tell you my idea, would you like some tea?”

Luke tilted his head slightly. “Don’t you think it’s a bit too hot for tea?”

“For hot tea, certainly. I meant iced tea.” Rebecca let out a soft giggle. “Ever since I arrived in Boston, I’ve developed quite an affinity for drinking tea, both hot and iced. Caroline’s the one who got me into the habit, and now, no matter what the weather, I don’t think a day goes by without my having at least one glass of tea using Mrs. Lincoln’s recipe.”

Luke blinked. “Who’s Mrs. Lincoln?”

“The author of a recently published cookbook. It’s titled
Mrs. Lincoln’s Boston Cook Book: What to Do and What Not to Do in Cooking
. It’s said to be an instant success. Her recipe for tea, for example, is exceptional. Have you ever been to the Atlantic & Pacific Tea Company?” She tidied up the bits of thread and scraps of fabric on the table, continuing her monologue. “They sell all those little bins of tea from around the world, and I plan to sample each one eventually. It’s far more refreshing than tea cakes or bread pudding, which I’m not terribly fond of anyway, although I do admit that peppermint cakes are my weakness and always tempt me—”

Rebecca stopped. She was beginning to sound more like her younger sister Sarah, who never seemed to know when to stop talking, than a grown woman. What interest, if any, would Luke have in peppermint cakes and the A & P Tea Company? On one level she’d grown to feel quite at ease around the eye-catching shipbuilder, but the way he was looking at her now, with his handsome visage, made her heart quiver. And she had the bad habit of talking too much when she was nervous.

“I myself love bread pudding.” Luke smiled and let out a low chuckle. “Had some for lunch today, in fact. Next time you come visit our home, though, I’ll be sure to tell Mother you prefer peppermint cakes over ordinary tea cakes.”

Rebecca pushed back, she realized a wisp of her bangs and felt her cheeks warm at his teasing. “It’s really not necessary, considering the fact that when I’m there I’ll be working.”

“You won’t be working tomorrow night now, will you? You’re coming to my mother’s birthday party.”

“Yes, of course.” While she’d truly come to enjoy Mrs. Hutton’s company, she wasn’t sure how she would feel attending the rather formal celebration. Festivities back home in Cranton had consisted of homemade cakes and pies, along with savory dishes prepared by hardworking farmwives. She was sure this party would be a far cry from roasting meat on a spit or playing baseball in the pasture behind the family barn.

“Good—I’m glad you’re coming. And tell me something else, Miss Rebecca Johnson,” Luke said, leaning forward, “what else do you like besides the A & P Tea Company’s vast selection of teas, Mrs. Lincoln’s recipes, and peppermint cakes?”

Rebecca gnawed on her bottom lip and regarded Luke. Surprisingly, she saw no hint of amusement at her expense in his expression. Only genuine interest as he waited for her response. Convinced it would be better to keep the atmosphere light rather than risk the possibility of their conversation becoming too personal, Rebecca laid her finger against her chin, squinted her eyes, and pretended to think hard over the question. While Luke’s attraction to her was becoming obvious, she felt certain she wasn’t ready for any declarations from him wanting to call on her formally.

“Let’s see. I love corned beef, mashed potatoes, my brother Adam’s maple syrup—though not together—and baking just about anything. I dislike seafood and eggnog—”

“Being a man of the sea, I can tell you that you don’t know what you’re missing when it comes to seafood.”

She folded her arms across her chest and wrinkled her nose. “I know perfectly well what I’m missing, and besides, you’ve interrupted me. I wasn’t finished with my list.”

“Please do continue.” Luke’s satisfied grin told her he was thoroughly enjoying their exchange.

“I can tolerate corn chowder, which I know I should love along with the seafood, being a favorite Massachusetts fare, and I do love baseball, which doesn’t exactly fit into the food category, but I like it all the same.”

“That’s quite a list.”

Rebecca took a deep breath and sat down across from him, hoping she hadn’t rambled too much this time and made an utter fool out of herself. “What about you?”

“Well, I suppose I’m rather easy to please when it comes to the subject of food. I have a bit of a sweet tooth, being rather fond of things like the aforementioned bread pudding, and then there’s pumpkin pie, apple pie, and cherry pie. Any pie or cake for that matter, I suppose.”

“And shipbuilding?”

“Now you’re interrupting me.” He shot her an amused look. “I also like boats, sailing, and baseball, and I’m rather good at chess.”

Rebecca glanced at the front door and, for the first time all day, wished a customer would interrupt them. It was becoming far too difficult to stop the growing attraction she felt toward the young man sitting across from her.

Luke cleared his throat. “Enough about me. You never told me your idea for the Mills Street Orphanage. I’d like to hear it.”

Rebecca paused. Jake had rarely shown interest in things she was concerned with. Not that he’d been totally indifferent toward her, but looking back, she realized their conversations had focused primarily on his work and his interests.

“After my father married my stepmother, Michaela, our family adopted my youngest sister, Anna.” Rebecca closed her eyes for a moment and smiled at the image of the little girl’s face. While the first few months had been somewhat of an adjustment for her, she was now as much a part of the family as any of the Johnsons’ other six children. “Anna lost her parents in a terrible fire and ended up living at the orphanage for a couple of years. After hearing her story and realizing the important role the orphanage played in her life, I’ve wanted to get involved and do something to help make the children’s lives better.”

Rebecca reached for the large box of scraps and pulled out a handful. “For the past eight months I’ve been paid to make slipcovers and drapes of every color imaginable. There are at least four more boxes like this in the back. My clients don’t want them, but for some reason I’ve never gotten rid of them. Now I know why.”

“Something regarding your idea to help the Mills Street Orphanage?”

Rebecca nodded. “I propose to get a group of women together and with this fabric make quilts for the orphans for this coming winter.”

“That’s a great idea.”

She smiled at his encouragement but wished his enthusiastic compliment didn’t affect her as much as it did. “It’s a simple idea, really, and I don’t know why I didn’t think of it earlier. It’s easy to give money or old clothes away, but I wanted to do something with my talents that would help me actually get involved in the lives of the children. I want to help each child pick out the colors for his or her quilt, so it’s something special that’s theirs.”

“That makes your idea even better.” Luke leaned back in his chair, his expression serious. “Though I’m afraid I’m guilty on that account.”

Rebecca wrinkled her brow. “What do you mean?”

“Take, for instance, the street vendor I bought the flowers from. I gave her an extra twenty cents to buy something to eat, but that’s a far cry from getting involved in someone else’s life and making a difference. Giving money, while important, is easy. Looking into the face of one of the street children and becoming a part of their lives takes things to an entirely different level. And by the way, you need to talk to my mother about your idea. I have a feeling she’ll want to get involved.”

“Thanks.” Rebecca smiled. “I’d planned to.”

Luke stood up from the bench then stretched his arms behind him. “I hadn’t intended to stay long. In fact, I don’t think I ever told you why I came by.”

“No, you didn’t.” A small part of her wondered if he had come by to ask her if he could call on her in a more formal manner. And a small part of her suddenly longed for him to do so. Could she dare allow herself to daydream about the possibility of a future with him? A home surrounded by a beautiful garden, children …

“My mother wanted to make sure you could still come by early in the morning to finish hanging her draperies in time for the party.”

Rebecca swallowed her disappointment. “Please tell your mother I’ve finished the panels and plan to hang them in the morning.”

Who was she to think that Luke Hutton, a sophisticated Bostonian from a well-to-do family, would be interested in her, a simple farm girl?

“Good. Then if I don’t see you before tomorrow night at my mother’s party, I’ll look forward to seeing you then.”

Rebecca watched as Luke stepped out the door into the morning sunlight. The whole situation was ridiculous. Obviously his visits meant nothing more to him than the fact that he was passing on messages from his mother. It was all business. She glanced at the flowers and ran her fingers across one of the soft petals. And the bouquet, of course, was nothing more than an attempt to help a poor little street vendor. His actions showed he had a heart for the down-and-out, not an interest in her. All the same she had the distinct feeling that if Luke Hutton ever did ask permission to come calling, she’d say yes without a moment’s hesitation.

He had to tell her. How he could have let things go this far, he wasn’t sure. Of course, it wasn’t as if he’d officially asked if he could call on her. He’d come close to asking her several times, but what respectable man in his position would dare act on his desires? And he had no idea how she felt about him. Did she share his interest, realizing his frequent visits to the shop stemmed from contrived excuses to see her? Or were her friendly conversation and bright smile simply the way she dealt with all her clients? Either way, she had to know he was leaving. He’d see her tomorrow at his mother’s party, and somehow he’d find the courage to tell her the truth.

five

Rebecca stood in front of the beveled mirror in the upstairs bedroom of Aunt Clara’s home and gazed intently at her reflection. The invitation to Mrs. Hutton’s birthday party gave her an opportunity to wear the gown she’d made for herself from one of Caroline’s paper patterns. The emerald green satin hung gracefully from her waist with a fashionable tier of frills down the back. Her mother’s hair ornament, with its glimmering rhinestones shaped like a butterfly, made the perfect finishing touch.

Letting out a deep sigh, Rebecca chastised herself for taking extra pains over her appearance tonight. Luke obviously wasn’t going to ask if he could call on her, despite the number of opportunities that had arisen the past few days. He was simply charming, generous, handsome … and loved bread pudding. Period. More than likely she had run him off with her incessant babbling over Mrs. Lincoln’s iced tea and how much she loved peppermint cakes. Didn’t the basic rules of etiquette state clearly that ladies should avoid talking too much?

She hadn’t considered what Luke Hutton thought about her until he looked at her with his dreamy eyes and lopsided smile. Trying to catch hold of her emotions, she worked to straighten the wide satin ribbon at her waist. For a moment she wished she were back home in Cranton. She missed her family. Missed the gray-shingled farmhouse surrounded by lush acres of farmland, apple orchards, and stately elms.

Not that Boston wasn’t a fascinating city. She’d come to enjoy the constant bustle of activity, as well as the contrasting majesty of the Atlantic Ocean. Still, she missed her younger sister Sarah’s laughter and her brothers, with Adam’s gentle teasing and Samuel’s stories stemming from his sense of adventure.