Loveswept Read online

  “And now we shall have the pleasure of hearing a wonderful hymn as sung by Miss Cecily Eaton,” Pastor Richards announced all too soon. “The song she has selected today is one of my all-time favorites, ‘All Hail the Power of Jesus’ Name.’ ”

  Cecily swallowed. She nodded to Averil, who, like the gentleman he was, rose from his seat to allow her to pass. He wore a look of anticipation meant to be heartening, she was certain. Instead, his unspoken support served to make her more nervous.

  She walked up to the front of the hushed sanctuary, self-consciously holding her shoulders back and tilting her head high. Once she had taken her position in front of the communion rail, Cecily swept her gaze over the congregants, most of whom she had known all her life. Smiles of reassurance calmed her. She made a point not to meet Averil’s stare. Surely his rapt expression would hold much more anticipation than she could bear.

  The pastor wasn’t finished. “Yes, my friends. As the song says, ‘Bring forth the royal diadem, and crown Him Lord of all.’ Today, I ask, what are you doing to show the world that Jesus is king of your life? As Miss Cecily sings to us, let us hear her words and meditate upon this sound wisdom—” He stopped and grinned so the congregation would recognize the pun.

  The congregation granted him an obligatory chuckle.

  He continued. “Let us all remember this wisdom as we listen to the melodic harmony of our very own Miss Cecily Eaton.” He stepped down from the pulpit and headed for a seat in the front pew, all the while casting a look of encouragement in her direction.

  Cecily knew how much her friends anticipated her song. She remembered the first time she sang solo in church, when she was a child of eight. Even then, her slightly off-key rendition of “Oh for a Thousand Tongues” met with a great many compliments and much encouragement afterward.

  At that time, she had needed the praise. Cecily had expected the whole church to erupt in applause for her song, but they remained silent after the last organ note echoed into stillness. She tried not to pout or cry as she made her way back to the pew where she and her family always sat. Only afterward did Mother explain that no one ever clapped in church, not even for a presentation as outstanding as hers. Now that she was grown, Cecily could appreciate the awesome peace that followed solos. She had learned that the silent reverence and appreciation of a performance given for the Lord surpassed any human accolades.

  Please, Lord, help me to honor Thee with my performance.

  She nodded to Mrs. Watson, the organist. As they had rehearsed, the older woman hit the first note with her usual flair. Hearing the familiar introduction eased Cecily’s mind. She concentrated on her breathing. Her voice grew stronger. Through the next stanzas, she relaxed, remembering to breathe the way Professor Tobias had instructed.

  Cecily almost started the last stanza too soon, when she remembered that during rehearsals Mrs. Watson mentioned she planned to expand the bridge. The organist always enjoyed playing for soloists since she could embellish and add music between verses, a practice she wasn’t permitted when playing for congregational singing. Cecily clapped her mouth shut and hoped no one noticed her near error. Suddenly, Mrs. Watson broke into the chorus where Cecily should have resumed singing. After missing her cue, Cecily froze. Mrs. Watson continued with the first line, then nodded toward Cecily. She felt her face turn a hundred shades of red.

  She glanced at the congregants to see if anyone noticed her mistake. Judging from their expressions, they hadn’t. Except for Augusta. She knew how long and hard Cecily worked on each solo, enough to have memorized each line herself. Augusta gave her a nod of encouragement, which made her feel well enough to keep going.

  Through her peripheral vision, Cecily could see that Mrs. Watson was in fine form, swaying back and forth as she played. Her confidence inspired Cecily to glance at Averil. His chin was tilted upward, and his eyes caught the light. He even leaned forward slightly, as though he didn’t want to miss a single inflection.

  Just as their gazes met, Cecily felt a lump in the back of her throat. She felt a sudden urge to cough.

  No! Not now!

  Cecily managed a few more notes before she felt tightness in her chest and then a sudden catch in her throat. The high note was only two beats away. Oh, no! I’m not going to make it!

  Why hadn’t she stayed with Professor Tobias? Why had she let Mrs. Watson talk her into a higher key for the last verse?

  I wanted to show off, and now I’m going to embarrass myself, right in front of everybody I ever cared anything about.

  Her silent prayer was too late. Cecily’s voice cracked, right on the most important word, “Lord.” Ever the poised performer, she recovered quickly, but not quickly enough. She glanced at the third pew. Everyone cringed—including Averil. Humiliated, she didn’t dare look elsewhere.

  Somehow she finished the last bars of her song and bowed her head in a mixture of reverence and shame. Just as quickly, she looked up just in time to see Averil stand up and clap. The claps came in rapid succession, reverberating throughout the sanctuary. She watched, mouth open, as Augusta stood and clapped too, soon joined by her parents. Clusters of friends and neighbors rose and joined in, until finally the entire church delivered Cecily a standing ovation.

  She stood for a moment and gawked at the congregation. Clapping was unheard of in her church. Some even disapproved of the idea of a worldly show of approval for any song or performance meant to honor the Lord, which Cecily had certainly meant to do with her song. But on that day, her friends and family made an exception for her. Even old Mrs. Roarke, too infirm to stand, clapped as she remained seated in her usual place on the far right side of a back pew.

  Had Cecily not been in a state of shock, she might have stood in front of everyone and bawled. Instead, she gathered her wits and hurried back to her seat. Despite everyone’s enthusiastic approval, especially Averil’s, she felt chagrined. She didn’t deserve their applause, and she knew it. Now Averil was sure to think she made a habit of singing poorly. Then again, would she have developed a catch in her throat if Averil hadn’t been present?

  Only Augusta’s consoling pats on her hand kept Cecily from bursting into tears. She couldn’t do that. And to depart in the middle of worship because of wounded pride would be even worse than to break out in sobs.

  Cecily didn’t look at anyone for the rest of the service. She wanted to concentrate on the pastor’s message, but after his glowing introduction of her solo, Cecily could only stare over the top of his head, at the corner of the ceiling. To her shame, afterward she realized that she couldn’t remember a word of the sermon. She couldn’t recall a time when she had been so eager to see a worship service end.

  Then she remembered. She had invited Averil to her class!

  Maybe he forgot.

  As soon as the benediction concluded, Averil turned to her. “If the invitation to join your class is still open, I’d be honored to attend.”

  “Really?” Did he truly want to be seen with her after such a blunder, or was he just being nice? “Are you quite certain?”

  “But of course.” He looked her straight in the eye. “Who wouldn’t want to be seen with the church’s star performer?”

  She groaned and looked at the burnished wood floor. “You saw the worst performance of my life.”

  “All the reason for me to return to worship here,” he said. “One day in the near future, I want to see the best performance of your life too.”

  Cecily was so grateful for his kindness that she chuckled. How could just a few words from a stranger make her feel so warm inside? She didn’t have time to contemplate her feelings. The older people were starting to settle in the sanctuary for their class, which meant everyone under thirty had to vacate to the classrooms.

  Cecily led Averil along a narrow hallway and down a rickety flight of steps. “Careful. This church was built just after the War Between the States. I’m afraid it is not up to our modern standards.”

  “Perhaps the corridors woul
dn’t be so narrow had hoop skirts still been the style after the war,” Averil quipped.

  Cecily laughed at his mindless banter. A little humor was just what she needed. After they cleared the last step, Averil joined her, walking by her side. Having him close felt good.

  “I understand your class will be talking about moving pictures,” he observed.

  “Yes. We’ve been studying newfangled inventions. Today the question is, ‘Moving Pictures: Are They Good or Evil?’ ”

  Averil’s dark eyebrows shot up. “Sounds like a subject sure to spark vigorous debate.”

  “Undoubtedly.” Cecily rolled her eyes toward him. “Maybe next week you can talk about electric pneumatic carpet renovators.”

  He chuckled. “I may be eager to sell my product, but not that eager. I don’t engage in commerce on Sunday. Of course, any other day of the week, I’d be delighted to talk about my carpet renovators.” His smile disarmed her.

  Cecily smiled back and then led him through the door to the class. She kept her gaze concentrated on the knotted pine floors. Even though she knew her friends wouldn’t allude to her mishap during the solo, she was still too upset about her error to talk to them. She just wanted the class to end so she could go home.

  As Cecily had predicted, the class delighted in meeting Averil. His quick wit helped to keep the discussion lively. She found her thoughts drifting away from the lesson and focusing on his insights.

  “What do you think, Miss Eaton?”

  “Think about what?”

  The class giggled, causing Cecily fresh embarrassment.

  Mrs. Jones adjusted her spectacles as she studied Cecily. “Do you agree with Mr. Hanes’s assertion that all moving pictures are evil?”

  “I’ve given it some thought,” Cecily stalled. “I believe that any medium can be used for good or evil.”

  “But so many moving pictures are evil!” Mr. Hanes—better known to Cecily as Matthew—protested. “The shocking things they portray in these moving pictures! Why, I don’t dare speak of them in mixed company.”

  Mrs. Jones eyed him. “And how did you happen to become so well acquainted with these shocking pictures, Mr. Hanes?”

  He squirmed. “Uh, a friend told me.”

  “I see,” Mrs. Jones responded. “Well now, I don’t expect you to go into detail, Mr. Hanes. Let us hear what Miss Eaton has to say.”

  “What comes from the mind all depends on the author,” Cecily countered. “A person with evil intent will produce evil material, whether it be books, plays, or moving pictures. A person who is close to God wouldn’t. He would make something that pleases the Lord.” She opened her Bible and turned to Romans 8:8. “I looked up this verse last night when I was thinking about today’s lesson. ‘So then they that are in the flesh cannot please God.’ ”

  “Very good, Miss Eaton. Your study of the Word serves you well.”

  “Thank you,” Cecily muttered. She sent her gaze to the bare floor, unwilling to display how Mrs. Jones’s praise pleased her. Perhaps now she could look her classmates in the eye once more.

  She snuck a furtive glance at Averil and wondered if she should invite him to Sunday dinner. No. That would be too brazen. She would just have to wait, that’s all.

  ❧

  The next day, Averil swept the pneumatic carpet renovator across Mrs. Eaton’s rug one last time and turned off the machine. The results pleased him.

  “Why,” said Mrs. Eaton, “I can’t believe it! Every last piece of dirt came right up!”

  “Naturally.” Averil grinned so widely that his face hurt. Now he knew that with the proper electrical connection, his carpet renovator would work splendidly. Of course if it had failed and Mrs. Eaton had decided to tell all of Richmond, the Capital Duster Company wouldn’t sell so much as its first unit in the city, and he’d have to peddle it elsewhere. Even worse, if he had to leave the city, he would no longer have reason to see Cecily.

  “See, Mother?” Cecily said. “I told you that Mr. Kingsley’s machine would work.”

  He glanced up at Cecily. His heart pounded as he drank in her beauty in a reaction that had become familiar. Her simple blue dress was hardly as elaborate as her Sunday dress had been, but that didn’t matter. Cecily looked ravishing whether she appeared in a housedress or, he imagined, the most stunning ball gown.

  To his delight, she sent him a sweet smile. He wished she had invited him to Sunday dinner after church the previous day. He wondered why she hadn’t. Then he remembered Mrs. Eaton’s unenthusiastic demeanor in his presence.

  “I do believe you have proven yourself after all, Mr. Kingsley,” Mrs. Eaton told him.

  “There was no effort on my part,” Averil answered. “The Capital Duster always proves itself, Mrs. Eaton.”

  Mrs. Eaton surveyed the machine. “In that case, I think I shall buy one, after all.”

  “You will?” Averil blurted out, then smiled. “Of course you will.” He gestured toward the machine. “What woman can resist the fine workmanship and convenience of this wondrous pneumatic carpet renovator?”

  “Yes, indeed,” Cecily agreed.

  Mrs. Eaton studied the appliance. “And please include a set of accessories.”

  “Indeed I shall!” Averil whipped his receipt pad out of his vest pocket and began writing the order. “Standard or deluxe?”

  “Standard,” Mrs. Eaton answered.

  “Standard it is, then.” Averil nodded as he wrote. “There is one little thing,” Mrs. Eaton interrupted as he concluded his calculations. “I don’t keep so much money in the house, and Mr. Eaton isn’t home at the moment to write a bank draft.”

  Averil nodded. The dilemma occurred often. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Eaton. I’ll be glad to stop by this evening, when Mr. Eaton is home.”

  Mrs. Eaton smiled. “That would be quite convenient. Thank you.” Her last words were said over the gonging of a hall clock.

  “Noon? Is it lunchtime already?” Cecily asked her mother. “Perhaps we might offer Mr. Kingsley a bite to eat.”

  Averil’s heart returned to its rapid beating. So Cecily invited him to lunch! Perhaps she wasn’t so averse to his company after all. “Why, thank you, I—”

  “Isn’t my daughter ever so polite?” Mrs. Eaton interjected. “She doesn’t mind whom we invite to lunch. Anyone from the pastor to a door-to-door salesman.”

  “Oh.” Averil was taken aback. “Why, uh, yes, Miss Eaton is the epitome of politeness and fine breeding.” Averil plastered a smile on his face and did his best to ignore the sting of her mother’s remark, even though its bite took the joy from making a sale. He let the insincere expression melt from his face. “I must be getting on my way. I appreciate your business, Mrs. Eaton, but I did lose Mrs. MacGregor’s sale last week, so time is of the essence for me.”

  “You lost a sale?” Cecily’s mouth dropped open. “But why?”

  “I’m afraid I’m to blame. After the disaster with the rug, I told her these machines don’t work.” Mrs. Eaton pursed her lips in apology. “And I must admit that I’m sorry.”

  “Mother!” Cecily exclaimed. “Do you really think that an apology is enough? After all, Mr. Kingsley’s livelihood is at stake. And what about his company’s reputation?”

  “I’ll tell Mrs. MacGregor about my mistake. Sometime,” Mrs. Eaton promised.

  Averil tried not to let his face reveal his doubt. He suspected Mrs. Eaton was a proud woman. To admit a mistake to a neighbor whom she obviously considered an archrival would be the last thing she’d want to do. He wondered when the next train would be leaving for somewhere else. Maybe Danville.

  Cecily broke in with a protest. “But, Mother, our family has taken food from Mr. Kingsley’s mouth. We must make amends.”

  “But how?”

  “Do let me walk over to Mrs. MacGregor’s with Mr. Kingsley,” Cecily suggested. “I’m certain I can help him explain everything to her.”

  Mother tilted her head in the direction of the kitchen. “But what about lun
ch?”

  “You go ahead and eat. Mr. Kingsley and I will join you shortly. We’ll be back as soon as we get everything straight with Mrs. MacGregor.”

  “But I don’t know if the two of you walking together, unchaperoned, would be proper,” Mrs. Eaton protested. “Pardon me, Mr. Kingsley, but we have only made your acquaintance for a very short time.”

  “Perhaps, but we would still be doing nothing improper,” Cecily answered. “Mr. Kingsley and I will be walking less than a block in broad daylight. And I promise to come right back, as soon as we speak to her.” Seeing Cecily’s eyes widen and her hands clasped in front of her chest, Averil hoped Cecily’s mother would give in. He knew he would never be able to resist such pleading.

  “All right,” Mrs. Eaton agreed. “I suppose since it’s my fault that he lost his sale, the least I can do is let you help make amends.”

  “Thank you, Mother dear.” Cecily kissed her mother on the cheek. “Mr. Kingsley, just let me get my hat. I want to look my best, you know. The reputation of the Capital Duster Electric Pneumatic Carpet Renovator is at stake!”

  Six

  “Good morning, Cecily.” Mrs. MacGregor wrinkled her nose at Averil as though a skunk had entered her presence. “Good morning, Mr. Kingsley.”

  He tipped his hat. “Morning, Ma’am.”

  “I must say, I’m shocked that you’re still here in the city,” Mrs. MacGregor told him. “After the disaster on Friday, I can’t imagine that anyone would want to buy what you’re selling.” She then concentrated her stare upon Cecily. “As for you, Cecily, I’m surprised. Why in the world are you standing right here on my front porch with this so-called salesman? Does your mother have any idea?”

  “Yes, Ma’am. She knows all about it,” Cecily answered. “I’m here to defend a fine product, the wonderful Capital Duster Electric Pneumatic Carpet Renovator.”