Lady in the Mist - Laurie Alice Eakes [102]
And she knew just where to start.
26
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Tabitha hesitated at the edge of the town square and drew the hood of her cloak more tightly around her face, against the rain. Across from her, Mayor Kendall’s house rose tall and elegant and welcoming, with its red brick, blue shutters, and light glowing behind the windows. The warmth of candle flames drew her. She wanted to go straight to Dominick and give him her decision, make it real before she lost her courage. Instead, she turned to her left and circumvented the square to the parsonage.
She intended to head for the garden and back door. As she passed the front, however, it opened and Phoebe Lee stood in the door frame, her hair shining in the gloom like a little candle flame. “Come in and get dry,” she called.
Tabitha did so, her feet feeling heavier with each step. This too she must do, this commitment she must make, before she talked to Dominick. “I’m wet, Mrs. Lee.”
“Phoebe,” the widow admonished her. “And that’s what a fire’s for—to dry you. Come in. I’ve just made us all tea.”
Tabitha reached the front steps. “I’d rather talk to you alone.”
“Does that mean—” Phoebe clasped her hands under her chin, and her face seemed to hold a flame behind it. “I knew the Lord brought me here for a reason.” She held the door wider. “Come into my uncle’s study. There’s a fire there, and he’s out visiting the Parks ladies.”
“Is everything all right?” Tabitha stopped on the threshold. “No one came for me.”
“No, no, nothing’s wrong. The younger one is just fretting over her husband being gone for so long. With good reason too.” Phoebe held out her hand. “Give me your cloak. I’ll take it into the kitchen to dry.”
In minutes, Phoebe had Tabitha tucked up before a fire just large enough to dry her and not overheat her. She held a cup of tea, and a plate of tiny cakes stood on the table in front of her.
“This isn’t necessary,” Tabitha protested yet again, because she was in the pastor’s house, because she wanted to forestall what she was about to say to make her future final.
“Of course it’s necessary, Miss Tabitha.” Phoebe flashed a heartwarming smile. “I think you’ve only come to call on me for one reason.”
“I could be coming to say no.” Tabitha tried to smile but felt like weeping.
“Are you?” Phoebe gave her a direct look.
Tabitha sighed. “I should be. In at least five and possibly more generations, no female in my family has passed her skill of midwifery onto anyone except her daughter. We started at sixteen, presuming we’d be married by eighteen or nineteen and able to carry on no matter where our husband took us. But I’m four and twenty, nearly five and twenty, and the likelihood of me marrying grows . . . dim.”
“I don’t know why you’d say that.” Phoebe reached across the space between their chairs and touched Tabitha’s hand. “You’re perfectly lovely and so very kind. I’m surprised a dozen men haven’t offered for you.”
“A few might have.” Tabitha stared at the swirling amber liquid of her tea. “They all seemed to vanish like the mist—” She broke off and laughed at her fancy. “So I accepted Raleigh’s proposal and then he vanished.”
“But he’s back.”
“And I’m wiser. I can’t marry a man I don’t love.”
“Let me add wise to your other qualities.” Phoebe’s smile was sad. “I made that mistake, let my head be turned by a handsome face and handsomer fortune, and here I am a widow at twenty-two for my folly.”
“Or his.” Tabitha smiled. “You’re still with us.”
Phoebe laughed. “You are so right. Now please do go on before I burst with sitting still and waiting.”
“Taking you on as an apprentice,” Tabitha said through a constricted throat, “is an admission that I will not have a daughter to carry on the family tradition. I’ll be the first female in generations who has passed her knowledge on to an outsider.”
“But Miss Tab—”
“Wait.” Tabitha held up her hand. “If I don’t finish quickly, I may not be able to.” She blinked against the glaze