Perhaps if she told herself this often enough, she could really start to believe it.
The wind lifted the ends of her hair, making the tresses dance freely around her shoulders. She plucked a delicate pink blossom and held it to her nose, inhaling its gentle scent, then raised her face to the sky.
Lord, if you want me to continue ministering to these women, I’ll need your help. Please allow me to conquer my fears by putting my complete trust in you.
17
Darius waited on the doorstep of Bennington Place, a spray of daisies from his mother’s garden in one hand. What kind of offering did a person bring for a battered pregnant woman? Daisies, the most cheerful of flowers, seemed the best option.
He’d told Olivia that he would call to see how the woman was doing, but he’d decided to come by in person to see for himself. As much as he tried to deny it, the real truth was that he wanted to see Olivia again and was afraid that if he telephoned first, she’d refuse his request.
When the door opened, he readied his best smile. But it wasn’t Olivia who answered.
A young, freckle-faced girl, obviously quite pregnant, stood with the door only half-open. “Yes?”
“Good morning. Is Miss Rosetti in?”
The girl eyed his flowers, then looked up at him. “I remember you. You were here when the pipe burst.”
Ah yes. The girl who’d reported the leak. Margaret, was it?
“That’s right. I’m Darius Reed. I came to see how the injured woman is doing. I helped bring her in yesterday.”
Somewhat reluctantly, it seemed, the girl stood back to let him enter.
“Margaret, who was at the—oh. Hello, Mr. Reed.” Mrs. Bennington appeared in the corridor. Her tone, though not exactly friendly, wasn’t as cold as it usually was when she addressed him.
“Good morning, Mrs. Bennington. I came to see how the woman who arrived yesterday is doing.” He glanced down the hall, hoping to catch sight of Olivia.
“We’ve had a rough night of it, but she’s stable for now.” Ruth turned to the girl. “Margaret, do you know where Olivia is? I thought she’d be in the office, but it’s empty.”
“She’s out in the yard. Has been for a while.” With a shrug, the girl returned to the parlor.
Ruth let out a sigh, then turned her attention to Darius. “Mary, the woman you brought in, went into labor in the middle of the night. She gave birth to a little girl, though we almost lost the mother soon afterward. I think the situation affected Olivia more than she expected.” She studied him. “You might be just the distraction Olivia needs. If you go out through the kitchen, you’ll find her in the backyard.”
The importance of her trusting him with Olivia wasn’t lost on Darius. He held out the posy of daisies. “Would you give these to Mary for me?”
Her brows rose as she accepted the flowers. “I thought they were for Olivia.”
“No, ma’am. But it’s a nice idea. I should have thought of it.”
“This is thoughtful enough. So is your coming here. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I didn’t sleep very well last night thinking about what that poor woman had been through.”
Ruth’s features softened. “It’s possible I’ve misjudged you, Mr. Reed. You seem to be a decent person, even though you still want my house.”
He laughed. “A high compliment indeed.”
“Try to get Olivia to come inside and eat something. She’s been brooding for hours now.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Darius walked through the kitchen, past a wary cook, and out the back door. When he paused on the small stoop to scan the yard, his breath caught at the sight before him. Olivia stood with her back to him, her dark hair loose and flowing to her waist. There was an ethereal quality about her that beckoned to him. Yet all he could do was stare as she bent to smell the roses that lined the fence. It was a scene that an artist would love to paint—the sunshine haloing her head, the soft breeze ruffling her dress, the sea of colorful blooms surrounding her.
Breathtaking. Sacred even.
Shaking off his reaction, he descended the steps and crossed the lawn, hating to disturb the peaceful scene.
“Good morning, Olivia.”
She whirled around, eyes wide. “Darius. What are you doing here?”
Not the most welcoming greeting. “I wanted to see how our patient is doing. Mrs. Bennington told me she had the baby.”
Olivia nodded. “For a while, we thought Mary wasn’t going to make it.” She twisted a rose between her fingers, scattering petals onto the lawn.
“You stayed with her during the birth, I understand.”
“Yes. I didn’t want her to be alone.”
“That took a lot of courage.” He couldn’t begin to fathom how she’d endured it, but maybe women had more stamina for the birthing process. He remembered when Sofia was born, how relieved he’d been when the doctor had asked him to leave the delivery room. He hadn’t done well witnessing Selene’s pain and trusted she’d be better off in the hands of the professionals. Now, after hearing Olivia’s story, he felt like a coward.
“I wasn’t brave.” She shook her head. “When Mary took a bad turn, I ran out.” Her troubled eyes met his. “It made me wonder if I’m strong enough to do this.”
The wind blew her hair around her face, several strands brushing his jacket.
“From what I’ve seen, I’d say you’re plenty strong,” he said softly. “You’re a remarkable woman, Olivia Rosetti.” The temptation to touch her, to pull her close and kiss her, almost proved too strong. Before he did something foolish—something he couldn’t take back—he moved away. “Why don’t we go up and see how Mary’s doing? I wouldn’t mind seeing the baby.”
Her brown eyes widened. “Really?”
“Nothing like new life to renew your faith in the world.”
“And in God.”
“True.”
She smiled, a slow lifting of her lips.
