Christine Johnson - Legacy of Love

“No, we can’t. Nor can we expect Hendrick and Mariah to house all our belongings. The orphanage is overfull as it is, and the factory is still under construction. Neither has room for old pots and pans. We’ll hold a sale.”

Ma’s hand shook as she lifted a tin soldier from the shelf above the table. From Anna’s favorite doll to Papa’s anniversary gifts to Ma, this shelf traced a lifetime of memories. The toy soldier’s paint had flecked off long ago. “Your father gave this to your brother on his seventh birthday—before you were born,” Ma mused. “He saved every penny so he could buy it. Hendrick loved this soldier. He should have it.” She cupped the toy in the palm of her hand. “Your brother wanted to join the war, but I was so grateful they wouldn’t let him enlist.” Tears misted her eyes.

Now she’d done it. Anna hadn’t meant to make her mother cry.

“I’m sorry, Ma.” Anna wrapped her arms around her mother’s shoulders.

“Good memories.” Ma kissed the top of her head. “I pray you find as wonderful a man as I did.”

Ma still missed Papa terribly, even after so many years. “I don’t think there’s anyone as wonderful as Papa.”

“I’m sure there is. He’d be good and caring. He’d value honor and integrity, and he’d love you above all but God.”

For a moment, Anna allowed herself to sink into girlish dreams. “And he’d be handsome.”

Ma stroked her hair. “Of course he would be. Take Mr. Brandon, for example. He’s quite handsome.”

Anna pulled out of her mother’s arms. “No, he’s not.” Though she could hardly take her eyes from him, she wouldn’t admit it to anyone, especially since he’d proven heartless and cruel. “His nose is too large.”

“It’s perfectly proportioned.”

“His eyes are too close together.”

“I found them quite nicely spaced. Deep blue too.”

“Not blue. They’re gray.”

“Ah,” Ma said softly, “I must have been mistaken. But you can’t deny he carries himself well. So strong and commanding.”

“He limps and has to use a cane.”

Ma clucked her tongue. “Anna Marie, that’s unkind. He suffered an injury. Why, as a boy he ran around like any other child. He must have been hurt in the Great War. That’s something to respect, not turn your nose up at.”

“But he doesn’t respect us.” An angry tear rolled down her cheek. She could forgive his infirmities but not his actions. “If he really cared, he wouldn’t evict us from our home.”

“Hush, dear. He is simply doing what he must. We are tenants and have no claim on this house. I always knew this day might come.”

“You did?”

Ma looked off into space, lost in the past. “Your father sold this property and his portion of the business to Brandon’s father years ago. I’m afraid your papa wasn’t a very good businessman.” Ma smiled softly. “But I loved him still. He had a heart of gold, would give to anyone who asked for help, even if they didn’t deserve it. I’m afraid some took advantage of him.”

“Like Mr. Landers.”

Ma shook her head. “Mr. Landers was simply doing what any businessman would do. Don’t blame others for our own faults.” She ran a finger down Anna’s cheek, wiping dry the track of a tear. “Your father knew that riches in this life did not matter.”

Anna wasn’t so sure. A decent income would get them out of this predicament. “What about Mr. Thompson? Maybe he can help us. Didn’t he own part of the business?”

Ma shook her head. “When your father and Mr. Thompson started the garage, your papa took out the loan for both properties. Mr. Thompson worked for him. He never owned a share of the business, even though your father called him a partner.”

Anna’s heart sank. Was there no way they could keep the house?

“Sales weren’t too brisk that first year. Before long your father began to miss loan payments. The bank held off foreclosing until your father could find investors. The only man willing to invest was Percival Landers, Brandon’s father. If not for him, we wouldn’t have had this house and the garage for all these years.”

“Brandon’s father owned the garage too? Did he sell that? Is Hendrick out of work?”

“Both properties sold,” Ma said, “but the new owner wants to keep the garage open.”

At least her brother would have an income until the factory turned a profit. “I still don’t understand why we have to leave. You would think the new owner would want the rental income.”

Ma sighed. “Percival Landers charged a very low rent.”

“Are you saying he gave us charity?”

“Mr. Landers treated us with Christian kindness, especially after your father’s death. I can’t count the times he helped Hendrick keep the garage going. You can’t blame him for selling the property.”

Anna could. Ma might call it Christian kindness, but it didn’t sound like it to her. No wonder Hendrick wanted to strike out on his own. No wonder he wanted to make a go of it with his factory. At least he could call it his.

“We’re poor.” Though she’d always known it, saying the word stung.

“No, dearest. We’re richer than the wealthiest man alive, for we have each other and we have God’s love.”

Anna did not point out that the richest man on earth might also have a family and love God.

Ma offered a gentle smile. Despite losing the love of her life when Papa died, she’d never spoken a word of regret. She gave to all who needed consoling and spent many hours at bedsides and baking for the bereaved.

How blessed Anna was to have her for a mother. She bit her lip to stem the tears, but a sniffle escaped nonetheless. If Ma could stay positive, so could she. “Then we’ll be the richest people at Terchie’s.”

Ma laughed, her cheeks rounding, and Anna couldn’t help but smile. Somehow, some way, they’d survive.

“I love you, Ma, and I’m sorry for getting upset.”

“I know, dearest, and I’m sorry I—” A sharp rap on the front door interrupted her midsentence. “Are you expecting someone?”

“No.” Anna pulled herself to her feet. A hundred worries bounced through her head, but this time she wouldn’t let them take root. “I’ll see who it is.”

She opened the front door. There stood Brandon Landers, his gray eyes dark and his expression unreadable. She flushed at the sight of his perfectly proportioned nose and nicely spaced eyes.

“Miss Simmons.”

“Mr. Landers.” She ducked her head to hide her reddening cheeks. Why was she reacting this way? He was the enemy.

“Is your mother here?”

He looked into her eyes just for a second, but that single glance did her in. Every thought fled her mind.

“Mr. Brandon,” Ma said as she wiggled beside Anna. “It’s so good to see you again. Would you like to come in?”

“No. I think not.” He cleared his throat. “I have a proposition for you.” Again he glanced at Anna. Again her pulse raced. “The Landers property includes a carriage house. Perhaps you’re acquainted with it?”

Anna nodded dumbly. She’d passed by the Landers estate many a time and as a child dreamed of stepping inside the house that looked like a castle. The gray stone walls and verdigris roof could have graced an English country house. A fence of stone shrouded the property from view, but she’d climbed that fence as a child and had walked its length, dreaming of one day exploring the pretty little carriage house with its dusty windows and the big old house that simply had to contain secret passages.

Brandon cleared his throat, pulling Anna back to the present. “Good, good. Perhaps you aren’t aware that it contains a small apartment, quite small, smaller than this bungalow and much older, but it might suffice.”