An Unlikely Mother Page 3

  As part of her restitution, Pastor Lassiter had told her to speak with the others she’d hurt and seek forgiveness. It had been hard, and while many said they forgave her, they still didn’t treat her any differently.

  “What if it doesn’t make a difference? No one believes I’ve changed.”

  Rose shook her head. “Then you keep living your life with the integrity of a woman whose heart has been changed by God.”

  Stepping in line with Flora, Rose linked arms with her. “But you, my friend, have got to act like you’ve moved on with your life. Shame keeps us buried in the past, and your future is with people who love and care about you.”

  Flora could tell the move was deliberate on Rose’s part. After all, Flora had done the same many a time. By walking with her arm linked with Flora’s, Rose was telling everyone that she considered Flora a friend.

  Looking up at Rose, Flora realized what she’d been missing out on by fearing retribution instead of accepting friendship. “Thank you for not giving up on me. I’m grateful for your willingness to guide me during this difficult time.”

  Rose gave her a squeeze. “I was fortunate to have family who refused to give up on me, so I could never give up on you. Now, let’s go see about that handsome gentleman I see standing beside the cabin. I’m not one to give credence to gossip, but I am wondering if he’s the same man you were seen with earlier this afternoon.”

  Flora’s face warmed at Rose’s words. A year ago, Flora would have been the one to spread the tales, and the unfortunate young woman’s reputation would have been in shambles.

  “N-nothing happened,” Flora stammered. “He was just helping me. It was all proper.”

  Rose gave her arm another squeeze. “Of course it was. But with all those closest to me happily married, nothing gets me more excited than a handsome young man in pursuit of one of my friends.”

  Friends. As many times as Flora had thought of others as friends, this was the first she’d seen genuine interest and compassion in one. Rose’s comments weren’t about trying to get a juicy little tidbit to share with the others, but about...caring.

  Then Rose smiled at her. “I think you have a suitor.”

  Finally following Rose’s gaze, Flora noticed George waving at them. A young boy stood beside him. The nephew he’d mentioned?

  “Come on!” Rose tugged at her arm. “I do wish to be introduced to this heroic man who came to your rescue.”

  Flora hung back. “I don’t think...”

  “He’s heroic and handsome. What do you have to lose?”

  Flora let out a long sigh. “I’ve lost everything, I suppose. But that’s just the problem. I’m trying to gain back my old friends and their respect. I know I hurt them with my words, and I’ve apologized, but it hasn’t kept them from continuing to shun me. What will people say about me if I allow a miner to court me?”

  Frowning, Rose looked at her. “I think you have it all wrong. It’s like I said earlier. Worrying about what everyone else thinks is only going to bring you more misery. You won’t be able to satisfy everyone, so live your life. Be the woman God made you to be, and let people say what they’re going to say. It’s the only way you’re going to find lasting contentment.”

  George waved at them as they came closer, and though Flora kept her free hand firmly pinned to her side, she couldn’t help but smile. How long had it been since someone was so glad to see her?

  Would it be so bad to pursue a friendship with him? Perhaps friendship was all George had to offer, as well.

  * * *

  George smiled at the ladies as they approached. Flora had changed, and there seemed to be a new lightness about her. “I see you found a new dress. Though the silk was lovely, I do like how the green in what you’re wearing brings out the color in your eyes.”

  “Thank you.” Flora stepped forward, smiling. She did have a beautiful smile. He supposed it was wrong to flatter her in such a way, but he’d been telling the truth. And it seemed just as wrong to ignore what was staring him in the face.

  Pastor Lassiter joined them from around the side of the cabin. “Ah, Flora and Rose. You’re back.”

  “Rose was good enough to help me clean up at the river, and to lend me a more appropriate dress.” Flora smiled at the other woman, and George couldn’t help but notice how it lit up her eyes.

  Pastor Lassiter smiled. “Yes, I heard about your unfortunate incident with the Willoughby baby. Good practice for when you have some of your own.”

  “My own? They all do that?” The horror on her face made George want to chuckle. Only he didn’t think Flora was ready to laugh at the joke. Something in him wanted to protect her, even though she’d spent much of their childhood teasing him. He could sense that she’d changed since then.

  Rose laughed. “And then some. But you’ll find it’s worth every mess. I’d forgotten you have no siblings or experience with babies. You can work with me, visiting the mothers and children. From what I’ve seen at the mission, you’re a fast learner, and by the time this month is over, you’ll be an expert at caring for children.”

  “That’s actually why I’m here,” George said, indicating Pierre. “He doesn’t speak English, but I remembered—” He stopped himself. He couldn’t admit that he knew Flora spoke French. For his plan to succeed, he needed to pretend this was the first they’d met.

  George took a deep breath. “I remembered that Flora was connected with the mission here, so I brought him to you in hopes that you might know someone who speaks French and can help him.”

  Pastor Lassiter stepped in beside him and ruffled Pierre’s hair. “George told me about the situation with the boy, and I told him he’s come to the right place. However, I don’t speak French, so I’m at a loss as to how to help find this boy’s family.”

  Though George had already promised himself he was going to keep his distance from Flora, he couldn’t help but notice the sympathy that lined her face.

  “Oh, the poor dear,” Flora said, kneeling beside Pierre, then breaking into French as she spoke to him.

  George looked over at Pastor Lassiter, who wore a broad smile.

  “Did you know she spoke French?” George asked the older man.

  “I thought I’d heard at one point that she did,” Pastor Lassiter admitted. “But I wasn’t certain if she knew enough to converse with the boy. I see that she can do so, very well indeed.”

  Flora smiled at them as she stood, holding Pierre’s hand. “This is Pierre, as I’m sure you know. He is four years old. His father works in the mine, but he hasn’t come home for several days. Pierre went to look for his father, but he got lost. When George found him, he’d come to the creek for some water, but he got scared since it was moving so quickly. So it was a good thing George happened upon him when he did, because as I explained to Pierre, the creek is a very dangerous place for little boys.”

  She pulled Pierre closer to her, genuine affection shining in her eyes. Flora had definitely changed from the bratty girl he’d known as a child. So much warmth radiated from her, it was hard to imagine that people didn’t like her.

  “Pierre tells me that you gave him something to eat, so now all we need to do is find the poor boy’s father. I told Pierre that his father is probably just as worried about him as Pierre is about his father.”

  Once again, George was struck by Flora’s gentility and warmth. Though she addressed George, Pastor Lassiter and Rose, she kept smiling down at Pierre and giving him reassuring touches.

  “I can’t imagine we have too many Frenchmen here,” Flora said. “Could you ask around to see where his father might be?”

  Pastor Lassiter nodded slowly. “Of course. I haven’t run into anyone from France up here, which is why I’m grateful we have Flora to translate.”

  “Me, too,” George added. “I know you’re not co
mfortable around little ones, but I only know a few words, and they aren’t very helpful.”

  Once again, the smile George had grown to love so much filled Flora’s face. “Oh, I like little ones. I had a brief opportunity to be a nanny to the most darling little girl.” Her face darkened briefly, and she looked at Rose, but Rose smiled at her, chasing whatever clouded Flora’s thoughts away, and happiness returned to her face. “I just don’t know anything about babies.”

  Pierre tugged at Flora’s skirt and she bent down to him, once again speaking French. Her words were melodic, almost like poetry. George could listen to her talk, even not knowing what she said, and remain enraptured for hours.

  She turned her attention back to them and said, “I think Pierre is overwhelmed by all of this. Is there a quiet place where we can take him?”

  “Of course.” Pastor Lassiter gestured toward the cabin. “Why don’t you and Pierre stay in the cabin until we can find his parents. Did he say anything about his mother?”

  Flora asked the boy, whose expression became even more despondent as he answered. “She recently passed away. That’s why it was only him and his father.”

  Pierre started to cry, and Flora hugged him close. “Apparently his father is all he had left,” she said, looking up at the others. “We simply must find him.”

  The expression on her face made George want to cry himself. Though he hadn’t lost his father until adulthood, George couldn’t imagine what it would be like for this little boy, who’d already lost his mother, to also be missing his father.

  “I know I’m new here,” George said, “but what can I do to help? Can we make signs?”

  Pastor Lassiter shook his head. “Many of our miners can’t read, or don’t read English, so that would be futile. Besides—” he let out a long sigh “—it wouldn’t be unheard-of that the father simply left his child. There’s many a man who finds himself overwhelmed with the prospect of raising a child on his own, and without a relative to take over, sometimes he abandons him.”

  “I won’t believe it,” Flora declared hotly. “Not Pierre. He’s too dear a boy.” She bent down to him, whispering something in French.

  Amazing. She barely knew the boy, and already Flora protected him with the fierceness of a mother. Though George had sworn off chasing after the pampered young ladies of his class, he had to admit that were it not for his uncertain financial future, and the people counting on him, he might be willing to consider the idea of Flora Montgomery. Someone with such compassion was worth taking a look at.

  George shook his head. What was he thinking? He had a mystery at his mine to solve, and now this child’s father to find. It was crazy to think that he could pursue a romantic relationship, even if he was free to do so.

  “I can’t believe someone would simply abandon Pierre, either,” George said, smiling at Flora. “If you’ll be so good as to continue caring for him, I’ll do my part to find his father. I start work at the Pudgy Boy Mine tomorrow, but I’m at your disposal tonight. If we can’t find Pierre’s father, I’ll be sure to ask the men at the mine if they know him, and in my free time I’ll join in any effort to locate him. I know it’s a big place, but surely, with all of us working together, we’ll have Pierre reunited with his father in no time.”

  The delight on Flora’s face was almost worth the time it would take away from George’s own investigation. Except...the two weren’t mutually exclusive. It would be a lot less suspicious if people saw George poking around, knowing he was looking for a missing man. Hopefully they’d find Pierre’s father soon, so the excuse might not last long, but at least for now, it would give George the ability to look around and ask questions and have a good reason for doing so.

  “Wonderful,” Pastor Lassiter said. “Let’s get this boy settled with Flora in the cabin, and then I can show you around, introduce you to some of the other men, and we can come up with a plan for finding Pierre’s father.”

  Pastor Lassiter clapped him on the back, and for a moment, George almost felt guilty for not being completely honest about who he was and why he was here. This was a man of God, after all, and it somehow seemed more wrong to maintain his charade. But how else was George supposed to get to the truth about the accidents at the mine? People had been hurt in two separate incidents, and George couldn’t countenance the idea of someone being killed.

  He followed the pastor, Rose, Flora and Pierre to the cabin, watching how the little boy clung to Flora’s hand. What if something happened to Pierre’s father and George could have stopped it? As the mine owner, he was responsible. Suddenly his quest to find out what was happening at the mine and prevent further accidents became much more personal.

  Pierre turned to look at George, and George gave the little boy a smile. Yes, he would help find Pierre’s father. But he would also make sure Pierre’s father continued to be safe when he worked.

  Chapter Three

  Not only had the previous night’s search for Pierre’s father been a waste of time, but George had never experienced such a fruitless day at work. The mine manager who’d hired him wasn’t in, and George had spent the entire day hauling rock, backbreaking work that left little room for idle chatter.

  Which wasn’t the answer he wanted to give Flora when she gave him that sweet smile as she asked how his day had been. Pierre played nearby, drawing pictures in the dirt with a stick.

  “I’m afraid I don’t have much to report,” George said slowly, shading his eyes from the sun to watch the pastor approach.

  “Sit for a spell,” Flora said, gesturing toward the log she sat upon. “I’d still like to hear how your day went, even if you didn’t have any success in locating Pierre’s father.”

  “I’m sure it’s nothing that would interest you. We certainly didn’t discuss the latest fashions from Paris.” George grinned at her, and she smiled back.

  “No, I don’t imagine you would have. The only thing I’m interested in from Paris right now is Pierre’s father.” Flora smiled as Pierre came running toward them, holding an earthworm he’d dug up.

  Flora visibly cringed at the sight, especially as Pierre held the worm out to her. She’d never been one for anything creepy-crawly—worms, spiders, frogs, fish and even birds had always terrified her. As children, when she’d been particularly annoying, George would find a worm or insect to toss in her direction. Flora would go running into the house, crying to her mother about what a horrible boy that Pudgy Bellingham was. George couldn’t help but grin. Even though she’d teased him mercilessly, he’d own that he’d been just as bad at times.

  George held out his hand to the little boy. “Can I see?” Then he looked over at Flora. “How do you ask him to let me see what he’s got?”

  Relief washed over Flora’s face as she spoke to Pierre, then turned back to George. “You say, Qu’avez-vous?”

  She spoke slowly, clearly. George repeated her words, then looked at Pierre, speaking them again.

  The little boy’s face lit up as he ran to George, holding out the worm. “Ver!”

  George glanced at Flora. “Did he just say worm?”

  “He did.” Flora shuddered slightly. “Nasty little things that they are. I’m so glad to have a man around to deal with all this disgusting boy stuff. I’d forgotten that boys like playing in mud, and with bugs and all those other horrible creatures.”

  “Ver. Worm,” George said, touching the worm. Pierre grinned and repeated his words.

  She let out a long sigh. “But he’s such a little dear, I can’t really deny him, now, can I? Still, why can’t small boys like things such as dolls and lace?”

  Looking up from examining the worm Pierre had presented to him, George smiled. “I’m sure many a mother has asked that question. Have you asked the other ladies for their advice on less disgusting ways of occupying Pierre?”

  Flora looked in th
e direction of the cluster of tents where most of the women were congregated. “Most of them are put out that I’m in charge of Pierre’s care. I suppose I could ask Rose, but I hate to bother her, since she’s already done more than enough to help me.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. None of them, including Rose, speak French, so they really can’t communicate with him. When they try, he runs and hides in my skirts. It’s not my fault that I had a French nanny growing up.”

  She sighed again, and an expression of sadness crossed her face. “I suppose it is my fault, in a way. I spent years acting superior because I’d had a French nanny and I was fluent in the language. Why would they be kindly disposed to me now?”

  The resignation in her voice twisted George’s stomach. “Maybe because we all do things we regret as children.”

  He’d liked to have told her that even though she’d given him a horrible nickname, one that he’d found humiliating, he knew she wasn’t that same little girl anymore. He wanted to tell her about all their childhood escapades, and how he regretted his own meanness toward her. But he wasn’t ready for the world to know that George Bellingham was here at the mining camp.

  Pierre tugged at George’s pants leg and pointed to the worm. George handed it back to him, trying to divide his attention between Flora and the little boy.

  “But I wasn’t a child. I was practically a grown woman, and many of the things I said to hurt others was as a woman, an adult responsible for her actions. They have every right to hate me.”

  Before George could respond, Pierre nudged him, holding up the worm and a stick, using words he didn’t recognize. Except one.

  Poisson. Fish.

  “Is Pierre asking to go fishing?”

  Flora nodded. “It seems you’re a quick study. He’s been asking all day, but as I’m sure you can imagine, I have no experience with fishing.”

  “I can’t imagine you do. I’ll have to take him sometime.” George grinned. “But I’m sure you have many other fine accomplishments any young lady would be proud of.”