Page 20 of Into the Starlight (Secrets of Sweetwater Crossing #3)

Chapter Twenty

Joanna wiped the tears from her eyes. This was the third funeral she’d attended in as many months, the third time seemingly healthy people had died with little or no warning, Kurt and Grandmother within hours of eating the spoiled meat, Miss Heppel doing what she enjoyed most, playing the church’s piano.

Even though it was a Thursday, most of the town had put aside their daily responsibilities to honor her memory and see her laid to rest. Harold had spoken of Miss Heppel’s devotion to the church and, though tears had welled in her eyes, Joanna had taken her former teacher’s place at the piano, playing “Come, Ye Thankful People, Come,” a hymn that she would always associate with Miss Heppel. A new month had begun, but for many, including Joanna, it felt like the end of an era.

Miss Heppel was gone. Burke said she appeared to have had a bad heart, but if that was true—and Joanna had no reason to doubt his diagnosis—no one in Sweetwater Crossing had been aware of it. Louisa had found no entries in Doc Sheridan’s journals for Miss Heppel, and Mayor Alcott had declared that she had been in good health when she’d consulted him the previous Friday.

“If it’s any consolation,” Burke said as he escorted Joanna from the cemetery to the parsonage annex where the congregation would share a cold collation, “a major heart attack happens so quickly that there’s almost no pain.”

“I hope that’s true.” Both Kurt and Grandmother had suffered greatly in their final hours, Grandmother even begging to die so she would be freed from pain. Joanna was grateful that Miss Heppel had been spared that agony.

“I wonder whether she had a premonition that she was close to dying. She wasn’t like herself when I saw her on Friday, and before I left, she told me she’d remember the duet we played for the rest of her life. I’d never heard her say anything like that.”

They’d reached the annex, but while others were streaming inside, Joanna found herself reluctant to enter. The meal and the conversation that accompanied it were the final steps in honoring Miss Heppel, steps Joanna wanted to delay as long as she could.

Though Burke nodded as if he understood, the respite was brief.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I couldn’t help overhearing what you said.” Mayor Alcott laid his hand on Joanna’s shoulder. While it was probably meant to be a gesture of comfort, she found it as condescending as his tone. If he had always been like this, it was no wonder Miss Heppel had not wanted to marry him.

“I think you’re correct,” the mayor continued, speaking to Joanna as if Burke were not present. “Minerva may have had some idea that her time was coming. You see, she wrote her will Friday afternoon and asked me to ensure it was legal.”

If his words were supposed to console Joanna, they failed, just as his touching her shoulder had, although they did rouse her curiosity. It wasn’t unusual for someone in Sweetwater Crossing to consult the mayor on legal issues, since he was the closest to an attorney that the town had, but it was unusual for Miss Heppel to have done that. As far as Joanna knew, they’d exchanged no more than basic pleasantries for decades, perhaps because Miss Heppel had refused his offer of marriage.

She couldn’t imagine why the mayor was telling her about Miss Heppel’s will, but Joanna felt the need to say something in response. “My father claimed people often waited too long to make their final wishes known because they didn’t want to consider their own mortality.”

“Minerva appeared healthy.” The mayor seemed determined to continue the discussion. “When she told me what she intended, I suggested she think about it for a few days, but she insisted she needed to get everything done right then.”

Joanna nodded. “She always knew what she wanted.”

“Dillydallying or dithering,” she had told Joanna, “is what lazy people do. Once you’ve made up your mind, don’ t delay. There’s no better time than the present.”

Remembering her teacher’s advice, Joanna said, “I’m not surprised she didn’t want to wait.”

The mayor gave Joanna another of those looks that were designed to assert his superiority. “You may be surprised by what I have to tell you. Minerva wanted you to have her house. She told me that you’re the only person in Sweetwater Crossing who would appreciate her piano.”

For a moment, the words refused to register, and Joanna looked to Burke for confirmation that she’d heard correctly. “It’s a very fine piano,” she said, addressing the part of the mayor’s explanation that made the most sense. “As good as the ones I used in Europe. If I had a place for it, I’d be honored to accept it.”

Burke touched her hand, his fingers warm against skin that had chilled when the mayor had approached Joanna. “From what Mayor Alcott said, you do have a place. Miss Heppel gave you her house.”

“That’s right. The house and all its contents. Everything she owned belongs to you.” The mayor reached into his pocket and withdrew a key. “This is yours now.”

A house. A home of her own. A place where she and her baby could create a future together, one where they weren’t dependent on anyone else. They’d be close to Emily and Louisa and their families, but they’d be free to do whatever they wanted without feeling beholden to anyone.

How had Miss Heppel known that was what Joanna needed? She had never told Miss Heppel that she felt like a boarder in what had once been her home or how she sometimes worried that Emily would expect her to raise her child the same way she and Craig were raising Noah.

Joanna hadn’t dared to dream of moving out of Finley House, fearing Emily would view it as a rejection of her love. It was one thing for Louisa to leave the family home. Even Emily had admitted that a newly married couple might need more privacy than Finley House afforded. Joanna had had no reason. Until today. Miss Heppel’s gift had given her a choice. She could sell the house or she could do what Miss Heppel had intended and live there. There was no question which choice Joanna would make.

“I don’t know what to say.” She wasn’t ready to share her thoughts with anyone, not even Burke.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Burke told her as he squeezed her fingers. Turning to the mayor, he continued. “Thank you, Mayor Alcott. As you can see, Joanna’s overwhelmed by the gift.” He placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her toward the street, somehow realizing that she was unable to enter the annex and engage in conversation with the other mourners. “Do you want to go home?”

“Not right away. I want to go to Miss Heppel’s house.” Joanna wasn’t certain she’d be able to go inside today, but she needed to stand in front of it, to look at the building that had been an important part of her past, the building that would be the site of her future.

“Your house,” he corrected softly.

“My house.” Joanna took a deep breath, trying to settle her emotions. When they were far enough away that no one would overhear them, she spoke. “I can’t believe it. My prayers have been answered in a way I never imagined. It’s much smaller than Finley House, but it would be mine, a place for me and my baby.” And even though she hadn’t admitted it to herself, that was what she had sought. She wanted—no, she needed—her own home. “The baby and I will be close to my sisters, but we won’t be sharing someone else’s home.”

When they reached the piano teacher’s house, Joanna stopped. Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, she reveled in the peace that settled over her as she gazed at what would become her new home. The feeling of being a visitor in Emily’s home was gone, replaced by the prospect of having a house of her own, one filled with music and memories of the duets she and Miss Heppel had played, one where her baby could crawl, then walk, and maybe one day play a duet with her.

“It’s exactly what I needed, Burke. Exactly.”

“Good morning, Burke.”

Though the bell had alerted him to a patient’s arrival, Burke was surprised by the identity of the man in the hallway. This was the first time the minister had come to the office. “Good morning, Harold. What can I do for you?” A cursory inspection revealed no obvious problems, but not all ailments were evident at first glance.

The man who’d caught Della’s eye seemed nervous, a state Burke had never associated with him. “It’s not an illness or injury that brings me here. I want to talk to you.”

“And whatever it is can’t wait until supper.” As far as Burke knew, Harold would join them again tonight. As had become her custom, each Friday Della took special pains with her appearance, knowing that she’d see Harold at supper. Today Joanna had commented on the new collar and cuffs Della was wearing. Last week, it had been a different way of styling her hair, a change so subtle that Burke couldn’t identify it but one that had met with the sisters’ approval.

“I wanted to talk to you privately.” Harold emphasized the final word.

Realizing that he’d failed to invite the man who was not a patient into his office, Burke gestured toward the doorway. “Come in. Have a seat. Louisa won’t be back for a while.”

“That’s what I hoped when I saw her leaving in her buggy.”

This talk—this private talk—had been carefully planned. That much was obvious. The subject was not.

When they were both seated, Harold fixed his gaze on Burke. “I never imagined myself in this position, asking permission from a man so much younger, and yet here I am.” The man who displayed such confidence in the pulpit was clearly uneasy. He ran his hand through his hair, then stared at his fingers, as if surprised by what he’d done.

“I’m forty-eight years old, and though I’ve counseled many, this is the first time I’ve done this.” He cleared his throat, swallowed deeply, then paused before the words came tumbling out. “I love Della and want her to be my wife, but tradition says I need to receive her father’s permission before I propose.”

Burke remained silent. By any measure, this was an extraordinary conversation but one that filled his heart with happiness. Della, it seemed, would have the happily-ever-after that had eluded her for so long.

Harold started to muss his hair again, then wrenched his hand back to the chair arm. “I know you’re not a blood relative, but you’re the closest thing to a family Della has. Do I have your permission to marry her? I promise you that I’ll do everything in my power to make her happy.”

“I know you will.” Burke gave a short shrug. “Like you, I never pictured myself in this situation, but of course you have my blessing. When do you plan to ask Della?”

His relief evident, Harold smiled. “Tonight after supper. I thought I’d take a page out of your book and invite her to walk with me. The bridge over the creek struck me as a romantic site.”

Burke had never viewed it in that light, but that was of no import. “Unless I’m mistaken, Della will find any place romantic as long as you’re with her. You’re a lucky man, Harold. She’s a wonderful woman.”

“I know.” His mission accomplished, the minister left the office, his step lighter than it had been ten minutes ago.

Burke settled back in his chair, thoughts tumbling through his brain. Della would accept the proposal; he was certain of that. She’d stay in Sweetwater Crossing and create a future with Harold, the future she wanted and deserved. Joanna’s future was taking shape as well. Though she hadn’t yet agreed, she was the logical person to become the church pianist and, now that she had a home of her own, she could even offer lessons to children if she chose to.

The two people for whom Burke harbored the deepest feelings were ready to begin the next stage of their lives. He was the only one who was still uncertain of what the future would hold.

If only Dr. Fielding would answer his letter.

“Are you certain you don’t want me to go with you?” Emily asked when Joanna entered the kitchen, wearing her cloak and ready to don her hat. “The roast is in the oven, so I have nothing else to do for at least an hour.”

Joanna shook her head. “Thank you, but this is something I need to do alone.”

It had felt wrong to enter Miss Heppel’s house yesterday after the funeral, so all she had done was stand in front of it for a few minutes, trying to accept the magnitude of the gift. Though she’d considered going there this morning, something had held her back. Perhaps it was the sense that crossing the threshold would signal the end of Miss Heppel’s life even more than the funeral had. But she was ready now, ready and almost eager.

She walked slowly along East Street, studying the house as she approached it. The trim was freshly painted, the shrubs meticulously cared for, the front walk free of leaves. Everything was in order, just as Miss Heppel’s life had been. It was time to see what awaited her inside.

Joanna pulled the key from her pocket, unlocked the door, and stepped into the parlor. As she’d expected, the house felt empty and lifeless, the light coating of dust on the piano evidence of Miss Heppel’s absence. The familiar room seemed different today without its mistress, and yet as Joanna looked around the room where she’d spent so many hours, she could envision herself sitting in the wing chair, warming her feet by the stove when her fingers tired of making music.

Glancing into the kitchen, she nodded. While not as familiar as the parlor, it still evoked memories of the days she’d helped brew a pot of tea and cut shortbread for them to enjoy as they discussed the merits of a Beethoven sonata versus a Chopin prelude. Those days were over, but the memories would remain.

Though she’d been inside the house countless times, Joanna had never ventured beyond the kitchen and parlor. There’d been no need to enter either of the bedrooms, one on each side of the short hallway leading from the parlor. As she opened the door on the right, Joanna smiled. Small and simply furnished with a narrow bed, a chest of drawers, and a trunk along one wall, this would become the nursery. Her smile broadened as she pictured her baby sleeping here.

She closed the door and turned, her hand hesitating to turn the other doorknob. Entering Miss Heppel’s bedroom seemed like an invasion of her privacy, and yet Joanna knew she had no choice. Once she moved, this would be hers, the place where she rested, the place where she dreamed.

Resolutely, she opened the door, stepped inside, and gasped. It wasn’t possible, and yet she knew her eyes had not betrayed her. Though three walls were ordinary, the fourth was identical to the Finley House dining room. The same wainscoting that covered the bottom half of the dining room walls and the same crown molding that accented the ceiling embellished Miss Heppel’s bedchamber.

Joanna had never seen a room like this with one wall so different from the others. It almost felt like a shrine, yet surely that was ridiculous.

She took another step into the room, her eyes narrowing when she recognized the bedside table as identical to those in the room Clive Finley had furnished for himself and his bride. Half a dozen books with familiar bindings were stacked on the table. Joanna picked up the volume on top and opened it. There was no question: its twin was part of the Finley House library.

Trying to slow her heart, which had begun to pound at the enormity of what she’d discovered, Joanna was unable to dismiss the implication that the woman who’d given her this house was a thief. These were the items Clive had told Della had disappeared when Finley House was being built. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

Why had Miss Heppel taken materials destined for another building? And just as importantly, why had she felt the need to recreate so much of Joanna’s childhood home? It made no sense.