“We’ve a carriage, duckies! Let’s make haste.”
Dear sweet Mum to the rescue.
Mr. Kingsley sighed in resignation and trained a smile on Mum. “Right-oh, Mrs. S.”
In quick order, the bags were loaded and their party situated. Somehow, Mum had convinced the driver to let her ride topside with her basket, which left Clara and Mr. Kingsley to manage the three foxes inside the jostling hackney. Silence sat betwixt them, obvious and awkward, like a chaperone of substantial girth. Clara worried Honorine’s leash as the kit slept in her lap, blissfully unaware. Mr. Kingsley looked out the window vigilantly, leashes firm in hand, as Phileas and Todd played tug-of-war at his feet with the hem of his overcoat. If they sat any farther apart, they’d go tumbling out the respective carriage doors.
“Please don’t be cross with me.”
The appearance of Mr. Kingsley’s lopsided grin set her at ease. “I could never be that, Miss Stanton. Disappointed, yes. Pining for you, most earnestly. But never cross.”
She took a breath, hoping it would cool her warming cheeks. “Rest assured, I am very interested in accepting your suit. My hesitation stems from fear of making another impulsive decision without sufficient consideration and fear of my last rash decision haunting me forever. I need to know I’m truly safe from Mr. Forrester—that I’m free of him for good and all—before I can contemplate a life with someone else. I need God to direct me before I can move on. I need Him to grant me peace and the courage to follow where He leads. Will you ... will you pray for me in all this, Mr. Kingsley?”
Eliminating the distance between them, Mr. Kingsley pressed a kiss to her glove. “I pray for you every day, Miss Stanton. For not a single day goes by that you are not in my thoughts. Even if the Lord sees fit to have us part ways entirely, I shall pray for you daily still. You are fixed in my heart, an intrinsic gear amongst its windings, never to be removed.”
CHAPTER
38
Clara could hardly wait for the hackney to stop. Indeed, only the fox in her lap and the tether of Mr. Kingsley’s hand prevented her from leaping out in an uncouth somersault. She could see it, just beyond the open window. The Lolloping Bear Inn from Grand’s favorite story. It was just as he’d described.
Situated on the fringes of Bern’s Old Town, the inn was hemmed in by the aquamarine waters of the Aare River and presented a breathtaking view of the Alps, crested with sparkling snow. The reality of it surpassed the loveliest pictures she’d painted on the canvas of imagination. Next time Grand offered to take her somewhere, there would be no hesitation. She’d have a bag packed within the hour!
Finally, the carriage rolled to a halt. The sandstone building featured a medieval arcade, and a sign in the shape of a bear’s paw swung over the door. Tables and chairs clustered near the river’s edge for alfresco dining, and in the very midst of them stood a Renaissance fountain. Clara’s heart swelled, forshe recognized the colorful figure of a mother bear. Standing on her hind legs, the bear reached toward the sky as a stream of water sprung from her snout and two bronze cubs frolicked in the spray.
At one of the tables, there sat a man in a tweed jacket, his white hair haloed by a flutter of glinting butterflies. It was dear Grand, at last. Safe and sound, and oh so near.
Honorine was lifted from Clara’s lap, and the fox’s leash unwound from her fingers. Mr. Kingsley, holding all three squirming kits, nodded to the door as a lopsided grin quirked his blond whiskers. “Away with you, woman, before you spontaneously combust.”
She promptly burst from the carriage, and the moment her boots hit the cobbles, she took off at a run void of decorum, hoisting her skirt well above her ankles as tendrils broke free from pins to fly in the spring breeze. If people gawked in her direction, she did not see them. Nor did she care. For her sights were fixed on Grand. She almost shouted in greeting, but something made her refrain. She slowed to a stop behind his tweed-clad back, maintaining a respectful distance. A reverent silence.
For Grand, it seemed, was not alone.
Admiring sunset’s first brushstrokes of orange and gold and pink, Grand sat at a table set for two. The plate before him was strewn with crumbs, while the second plate sat untouched. His wineglass contained naught but dregs while the adjacent glass was filled with merlot. Grand emptied his drink and took the second glass for a walk to the water’s edge. Reaching into his waistcoat, he removed an envelope with a familiar black seal. It was the devasting letter he’d held on to all these years. A son’s final words held near a father’s broken heart.
The envelope trembled as Grand pressed a kiss to the black-edged paper and released it, allowing the breeze tolay the letter to rest in the peaceful River Aare. There was a moment of stillness. Of hushed remembrance. Then he raised the wineglass to the setting sun, toasting she who was no longer there to sip it across from him, and with a shaking hand, poured every last drop into the river. Crimson tears for love known and love lost.
For love that remained even in the face of death.
Clara’s breath stilled as an ache pulsed through her heart.I want to love like that. To be loved likethat. God, is such a thing possible?
The ambient sound of water, spraying heavenward from the nearby fount and pattering upon the bear figures as gentle rain nurtured the seed of a memory long buried in the soil of time. Granny’s laughter blossomed, drifting through her mind like magnolia petals dancing on a spring breeze.“Love is muchlike a flower, child. You can’t guarantee it’llgrow or endure a bitter winter to bloom again. Allyou can do is plant what you’re given, tend it faithfully, and rely on the God who cares forthe lilies of the field as much as He cares for our hearts.”
The forgotten words took root in Clara’s soul, grounding her with peace that weeded up thorny fears too long permitted to choke her hopes. It was time to truly put her trust in the One who arrayed the lilies in splendor. It was time to plant something new. With Theodore.
Of that, she was now assuredly certain.
Grand set the empty glass on the table and at last met her gaze with love-drenched eyes. “Right on time, right on time. I can always count on my Little Stargazer to be punctual.”
In a heartbeat, she was in Grand’s arms, face nestled against his jacket as she reveled in the scent of peppermints and the warm embrace of home. “Happy anniversary, Grand.”
He kissed the top of her head and held her at arm’s length. “Eyes bright. Countenance light. Does this mean you’ve unburdened your shoulders?”
“I have. Although I may have to do so again in the morning.”
Grand smiled as his kaleidoscope of clockwork butterflies flitted about his head. “That is what mornings are for, dear girl.” He glanced over her shoulder. “Where are my daughter and apprentice?”
“Securing our accommodations in the Lolloping Bear, I expect. They probably thought it prudent to allow me a few moments of your precious company before I was forced to share you.”
