Page 29 of The Gift of Seeds
School must have let out early.
Behind the riders came a tiny buggy pulled by two miniature horses, one gray and one black, and driven with obvious expertise by a bundled-up woman.
With an indrawn breath, Hester stopped short to watch them pass.The Falabellas Jimmy described!And those must be the Thompsons, a family of three adopted boys, a son and daughter from each of their previous marriages. They have a toddler, too.She looked but didn’t see the girl next to her mother.She must be snug at home.
With awe, she watched the miniature horses and, for the first time in her life, an intense longing for something that wasn’t a house and garden or being with her brother possessed her.
I wish, I wish…. Hester didn’t even knowwhatshe wished.For the confidence to follow and go up to the woman, introduce myself, and pet the horses? To ride behind them in that buggy? To have one of my own?
Each and every action seemed impossible.
By the time Hester caught her pessimistic thoughts, the parade of Thompsons had picked up speed and moved down the street.
Did I not just promise to do better? But how?
An answer came quickly.In the future, I can linger after church and meet and talk to people instead of scurrying off.
Oh, but how hard that will be.
No one here knows you’re illegitimate.
As if coming out of a trance, she shook her head and glanced around.
About twenty paces to the left, a well-dressed man in a bowler hat, an olive-green wool scarf around his neck and pulled high over his ears about, seemed to scrutinize her.
Quickly, she lowered her gaze and turned her head back toward the street. She took a breath and peeked at him from the corner of her eye.
He still watched her. With a smile and a nod, he strode her direction. Avoiding a large sheet of dirty snow, he halted three feet away. “Miss Smith.” He tipped his hat, exposing his thick,auburn-and-white hair. “I’m Andre Bellaire. I apologize for not introducing myself sooner.”
Shyness gripped her throat. Distinguished gentlemen didn’t notice Hester Smith, much less converse with her.Here is the man who’d so generously paid for my supplies. I must say something.
Mr. Bellaire settled his bowler back in place and lifted his chin to indicate his waiting coach.“My daughter should be here momentarily. She’s doing a last-minute check on the church’s Christmas décor.” He patted his jacket pocket. “While I had to pick up the mail.” He winked at her. “And a few parcels that arrived.”
Envy squeezed her heart. She imagined the loving holiday his family would experience, much like the ones she had with Lovie’s family, although those undoubtably were far less lavish. Hester managed to get out the words, “I’m sure everything will be beautiful.”
He dipped his head a bit to give her a penetrating look. “Somehow, when I’ve been at church, I always seem to miss you. Then, too, having guests has kept me preoccupied.”
That’s because I arrive at the last minute, sit in the back, and slip away on the final Amen.But she could hardly say so. “Mr. Bellaire, I hope you are well,” she stammered.
He frowned.
But, somehow, she knew the frown wasn’t for her.
“My daughter fusses about my health, sometimes, and I must indulge her.”
You almost died on the train here. Of course, she fusses!“I’d give anything to have a father to fuss over.” The words tumbled out before Hester could grab them back.Oh, good grief! I hope he doesn’t think I’m criticizing him!
His expression softened. “Not a day goes by when I don’t thank the good Lord for the gift of my daughter and the familyshe married into. I’m richly blessed.” He directed a penetrating stare her way. “And you, Miss Smith, how are you settling in?”
“Fine, just fine.” She rushed to assure him lest, he mention her lack of family or offered to invite her to Christmas dinner. “Everyone I’ve met has been so kind.”
“Is there anything you need?”
Hester backed away a step. “No, no. I’m fine. Really. Thank you. You, ah, have already done so much. Don’t worry about me, please.”
Oh, goodness, I sound like an empty-headed female.
“I know from your brother that you’re an avid gardener. I’m sure your and Dale Marsden’s gardens will soon rival each other.”
