Chapter 3

When Mira opened the door, Gordon Covington wasn't standing on the small stoop at the top of the steps. Of course he wasn't. The very thought he might be had been foolish. However, seeing Miss Ophelia there was every bit as surprising. She was an imposing sight, scowling down at Mira.

"Well, are you going to let me in?" The woman glared at her. "This wind has to be coming straight off an iceberg."

Without waiting for Mira to answer, Miss Ophelia pushed past her.

Mira stepped aside, still holding on to the doorknob. "Is something wrong, Miss Ophelia?"

In the two years Mira had lived on the upper floor of Miss Ophelia's house, the woman had climbed those steps only one time. That was when she showed Mira the accommodations before Mira rented the rooms.

"It will be if you don't close the door. We'll both come down with the grippe."

"Yes. Certainly." Mira closed the door. "Come in."

"I appear to already be in." Miss Ophelia looked around the room. "Neat. As expected."

"Here, let me take your wrap." Mira found her manners.

"Never mind. My old bones need warming." Miss Ophelia pulled her cloak closer around her.

Very little about the woman looked old. At several inches taller than Mira, she was a commanding presence in the small kitchen area. She narrowed her eyes on Mira. "Are you going to invite me to sit down or expect me to keep standing?"

"Please, please do sit." Mira motioned toward the one upholstered chair.

Miss Ophelia pulled out one of the straight chairs from the table. "This will do." She handed Mira a tea towel–wrapped bundle. "Tea cakes."

"Oh, how lovely. I'll heat some water for tea." Mira turned on the paraffin burner under her teakettle, then got out a plate for the cookies.

A gift of food from Miss Ophelia was as unexpected as her visit. Mira was the one who stopped by her door to share this or that bit of food.

"You should have rung your bell. I would have come down." The old lady had a metal school bell she clanged whenever she wanted to talk to Mira. "Or did you ring it and I not hear?"

"I didn't ring it. Wears me out to shake the thing, and with that wind, it would blow the sound who knows where. The neighbors would be complaining."

Not something that had ever seemed to concern Miss Ophelia previously. Mira didn't point that out. She wasn't sorry to have her visit. The cookies looked delicious, and Mira was glad for an excuse to not only have a second cup of tea but to push aside her lonesome thoughts. Still, this was more than a friendly visit. Something was up.

She studied the woman as she set cups and saucers on the table and poured the tea. She hadn't seen Miss Ophelia since before Christmas when she gave her a jar of honey, something she had told Mira she liked.

The woman's eyes looked watery. Perhaps from the cold wind.

"Would you like sugar?"

"I drink it as it comes from the pot." Miss Ophelia raised the cup to her lips to sip the hot liquid. The teacup rattled in the saucer when she put it down. She slid her hand under her cloak but not before Mira saw the tremble of her fingers.

"Are you cold? I can get you a lap blanket."

"No, no. That isn't necessary." She pulled out her hand to hold it over the table to show the trembles. "This isn't from cold. It's from old." She frowned. "Such happens with age."

Mira had no idea how old Miss Ophelia was and certainly was not about to ask. She bit into one of the cookies. "I can never make anything that tastes this good."

"One would need an oven, which you do not have." Miss Ophelia looked at the one-burner stove. "A teacher's pay doesn't supply many conveniences. If not for having this house and these rooms to let, my situation would be much more dire."

"I'm very happy here."

"Are you?" Miss Ophelia narrowed her eyes on Mira.

Before Mira could summon up an answer, Miss Ophelia waved her hand to dismiss her question. "A woman does what a woman must at times. And lives by whatever means she's able. I have certainly done such all of my days."

"Yes." Mira didn't know what else to say.

"I don't think you've ever met my brother, have you?"

"No. He lives in Ohio, didn't you say?"

"He does. He has a daughter. Turned twenty last month. Unmarried and without suitors, or so my brother says. I am not sure if he is being completely honest with me."

"Oh?"

"That is neither here nor there. I am not one to share my family's doings, right or wrong."

"I see." Mira thought the less said, the better.

"I doubt if you do, and better if you don't." She took another sip of tea and then spun her cup around in the saucer once and again. "Mrs. Abrams stopped by to see me a bit ago."

"Mrs. Abrams?"

"She goes to your church."

"Yes, I know. She is very faithful."

"As are you, she assures me." Miss Ophelia picked up one of the cookies and broke off a piece, but didn't put it in her mouth. "I already knew that by how you go out every Sunday. Whatever the weather. Very commendable."

Mira had the feeling she had just passed a test she hadn't realized she had taken. "I don't like to miss. I enjoy the singing." When Miss Ophelia gave her a look, she quickly added, "And the sermon too, of course."

"Do you like to sing?"

"Oh yes, it's such a great way to let the joy of the Lord's love fill you."

"I've never heard you singing."

"I wouldn't want to disturb your peace."

"Peace," Miss Ophelia echoed, then sighed. "I think perhaps I have been too concerned about my peace. Please sing something for me now."

"I couldn't do that. I said I liked to sing. Not that I was talented."

"A joyful sound is all the Lord or I want to hear." She looked directly at her with all the sternness of a demanding teacher. Mira almost expected her to pull a ruler from her wrap and tap the table. "Sing one of the songs you sang at church this morning."

Mira took a sip of her tea and cleared her throat. She did sometimes lead her class in song. She could sing a bit of a hymn for Miss Ophelia. "Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine!"

Miss Ophelia joined in on the next line. Her wavering voice showed her age, but as she sang with Mira, a smile softened her wrinkles. When they finished the chorus, she said, "Fanny Crosby wrote that. Did you know she was blind? Since an infant?"

"I have heard that."

"Makes one wobble between appreciating one's own sight and thinking how little one has done in comparison to someone with such challenges as Miss Crosby."

"I'm sure you as a teacher made a difference in many a child's life," Mira said.

Miss Ophelia lifted her eyebrows as she looked across the table at Mira. "And do you think the same about yourself?" Again she didn't wait for an answer. "I suppose all teachers do touch their students' lives for good or bad."

"I would hope for good."

"As would I, but when I think back over my years, I do wonder if I could have done more. Perhaps I should have gone to the frontier and opened a school." She stared down at her cup.

"That would have been brave of you."

"Brave, yes. Unfortunately, the thought of it being foolish as well was stronger in my mind when the opportunity opened to me. There was a young man. He wanted to go west. He did go west."

"Did he not ask you to go along?"

"He asked, but I did the sensible thing and stayed put. I have no regrets." She spoke the words, but a sound of regret seemed to linger, even though this must have been years ago.

"Sensible is often best," Mira murmured.

"Enough about me. I didn't climb those horrendous steps in that bitter wind to talk about me but about you."

"Me?"

"If you have attended church with Mrs. Abrams, you surely know she is a dreadful busybody. Has been ever since I've known her, which has spanned upward to fifty years."

Mira's head was spinning as she tried to keep up with Miss Ophelia's changing subjects. "I've always thought her very nice."

"Busybodies can seem exceptionally nice. They practice the skill. Gives them more chance to poke their noses into other people's business." Miss Ophelia's lips screwed up into a tight, disapproving circle.

"I have little business for her to be interested in, and I wouldn't divulge anything about anyone else even if I knew something of interest to divulge. Which I do not."

"You talk like a schoolteacher. In circles. It took me years to stop that and learn to say what I meant in plain words. My students began to do so much better then." She breathed in and out. "But I do seem to be taking a circuitous route myself to what I came up here to say."

"Please, feel free to speak plainly." Mira peered over the rim of her cup as she took a drink, not at all sure she wanted to hear whatever Miss Ophelia had to say.

"Then, I shall. Two things. First, Mrs. Abrams said she just happened to be within earshot when the visiting preacher pulled you aside after the services this morning."

"I knew him from school years ago." Mira put down her cup. "Gordon Covington. He spoke about the mission he has started in the Eastern Kentucky mountains."

"Anita—Mrs. Abrams, that is—did say he spoke at length about his work." Miss Ophelia's countenance stayed dour. "That was not what she was most interested in telling me."

"Reverend Covington did pull me aside for a few words of private conversation, but we were hardly alone." Surely the fact that she talked to Gordon was no reason for blame. They had not been alone in the church, although Gordon's words had so surprised her, she paid little attention to those around them.

"Not so private, it seems. Mrs. Abrams obviously has excellent hearing, which must be a boon to one who is a busybody." Miss Ophelia ran her finger along the handle of her cup a couple of times before she looked directly at Mira. "She says he is in need of a teacher for his mission school and that he asked you to be that teacher."

"He did ask me that." Among other things. What more had Mrs. Abrams heard? "The challenge sounded interesting and I do feel compassion for those young people with no school. I can't imagine not being able to read."

"But you refused?"

"I did. I have a position here as a teacher. School will open again this week. This is my home." She looked around. "I'm happy here."

Or at least she had thought she was satisfied with her life before Gordon had voiced his impossible proposal. Impossible, that was what it was. She was quite content with things as they were.

"Positions can be resigned." Before Mira could respond to that astounding suggestion, Miss Ophelia went on. "As I said earlier, you haven't met my brother. Bertram can be a pain, but he is my brother. More telling, he has half ownership in this house, although he has never made any claims on it. Until now."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"A great deal, I fear. There is Phyllis. My niece. The one Bertram wants to ship off to Louisville for a while. I offered her one of the rooms downstairs, although the thought of Phyllis constantly underfoot is not pleasant. Unfortunately, she takes after Bertram and is very opinionated about everything and has ridiculously modern thinking." Miss Ophelia finally took a bite of her cookie and solemnly chewed.

Mira stared at her, knowing her words before she spoke them.

"That arrangement was not acceptable to Bertram or Phyllis. They are insistent on her moving into these rooms."

"Here?" For the second time in one day, Mira was nearly rendered speechless.

Miss Ophelia reached across the table to touch Mira's arm. The woman's fingers were cold. "I am sorry. But Bertram leaves me little choice but to ask you to find other accommodations. My brother can be quite demanding."

Mira's mouth had gone dry. "That might prove difficult."

"Yes. I realize that." She pulled her hand back and broke off another bit of the cookie. She studied it for a moment before she went on. "That is why I was so glad Anita came to call today."

"Does she have rooms to let?" Relief at the thought washed through Mira.

"No. Nothing like that." Miss Ophelia huffed out a short breath. "I might as well be out with it. Anita claims she heard the young visiting preacher proposing marriage. To you."

"I hardly know Reverend Covington. I hadn't seen him for years. Perhaps she misheard."

"Did she?" She gave Mira a stare, no doubt practiced often in her years as a schoolteacher. One that made it almost impossible to do anything but answer whatever question truthfully.

"No." Mira clutched her hands together. "But the very idea is ludicrous." Another word to describe the folly of the man's proposal. Ridiculous. Ludicrous. Impossible.

"Anita said he seemed an amenable young man of good appearance."

Mira's voice rose as she threw up her hands. "What difference does that make?"

"I would think very much in a husband."

Mira shut her eyes and massaged her forehead. She felt ill. "I barely know him. He barely knows me."

"One doesn't have to know everything about one's destination when one begins a journey." Miss Ophelia pushed up from the table. She lightly touched Mira's head. "This is your answer."

Mira looked up at her. "This can't be an answer."

Miss Ophelia pulled her hand away from Mira. "Perhaps answer is not the correct word. Opportunity. A much better word. One you should take. One I feel that if you are honest with yourself, you may even want to take."

"I don't love him. I am just as sure he cannot love me."

"Love? What a perfectly sweet little word to hold such power over us." Miss Ophelia shook her head. "Do you think Joseph loved Mary in the Bible?"

"I would like to believe that. Don't you?"

"You are a romantic. But you surely know most matches in Bible times were made without consulting the bride and oftentimes not even the groom. They were matches made between families. Perhaps when the two intended were mere children."

"The Bible shows Joseph treating Mary with love."

"It only took an angel speaking to him in a dream to have him spare her from a life of shame. Of course he was a decent man who did intend to set her aside quietly so she wouldn't be stoned."

"I believe they had a loving marriage." Mira had read the Christmas story many times. She always felt love in the words.

"I'm sure you are right. But the truth you need to consider is that love surely grew between them as they faced difficulties together. And experienced miracles that had to beg belief. A virgin birth had to be difficult to understand even if they knew it so."

"They had faith."

"So they did." Miss Ophelia's gaze softened on Mira. "And so can you. That the Lord has opened up this opportunity for you and that he will let love grow between you and this young man as you share a common goal, a common mission."

"This is impossible." Definitely the word that most fit this incredulous idea.

"Nothing is impossible with the Lord."

Miss Ophelia seemed to be waiting for Mira to contradict her words, but no one could argue that. The Lord could make anything happen. Mira had no doubt of that. Mary, a virgin, gave birth to Jesus. A camel could go through the eye of a needle. The Lord made the impossible possible in the Bible. But that didn't mean he would change this impossible idea of marriage to Gordon Covington into something possible.

The silence in the small room deepened. The only sounds were the ticking of Mira's clock on top of the bookshelf and the wind rattling the window.

When Mira couldn't stand the silence another second, she said, "I cannot marry Gordon Covington."

"Cannot or will not?" Miss Ophelia tilted her head to consider Mira. "Have you ever wondered if there were some in the Bible who asked a miracle of the Lord and then did not believe enough to try to stand on legs that were paralyzed?"

"No, I believe the Lord healed those he touched and that his touch turned their doubt into wonder."

"I would hope that to be true and that no miracle was missed due to the difficulty of believing such was possible." Miss Ophelia gave Mira a stern look. "Do not miss the Lord working in your life, Mira. All this could be the Lord's doing."

"All what?"

"Young Reverend Covington at your church this morning in need of a teacher. A man who, according to what Anita overheard, felt the Lord's prompting to ask you to be that teacher."

"He asked me to be more than a teacher." Mira stood up to face Miss Ophelia.

"Oh yes." Miss Ophelia lips turned up in a rare smile. "Even better, he wants you as a wife. A partner in his work. It seems the Lord must want that too. That is why busybody Anita eavesdropped on your private conversation. That is why she came bearing tales to me. That is why my niece has a sudden need for these rooms. That is why I climbed up those steps even though my knees will ache all night because of the effort."

"If all that is so, then why hasn't the Lord spoken to me?"

"Are you so sure he hasn't? The Lord can speak to us in sundry ways." Without waiting for an answer, Miss Ophelia turned and went out the door.

Mira stared at the closed door. After a moment, she spoke into the empty air. "Thank you for the tea cakes."