My Heart Belongs in Castle Gate, Utah Read online

  “Who did you talk to out there?” Momma didn’t look up, keeping her attention on the job at hand.

  He rocked back and forth on his heels. “It was Anthis.” Momma rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath. He added, “And Leanna—Mrs. McKee.”

  “Ah, I wish she would stop in every once in a while. She needs some fat on her bones.”

  “Why? So then you can whisper to Penelope about how much weight she’s put on?” He laughed at the double-sided standard of every Greek woman—to offer food abundantly, but criticize privately when the effects become visible on the partaker’s womanly figure.

  “Well, she is beautiful, and a little food would only give her more of a healthy glow. That’s all.” She shrugged her shoulders before rolling the pin again.

  If she knew all the animosity of Coffey and his friends or the incidents around the country involving Greeks, would she be so persistent about feeding an American woman? He couldn’t tell her the truth—it would only cheapen the roots they were growing here. After all the convincing he did to bring them here, how could he admit they weren’t welcome by many?

  “You like her? No?” she asked. He caught Momma’s smirk before it faded with her continued baking efforts.

  He studied her, sure that her question was a trap. But what if it wasn’t? Could a blessing from his family be enough to follow his heart regardless of the others’ expectations?

  “She’s not Greek,” he said. He would not dare share more than that—yet. If his mother’s inquiry was a snare, she’d enjoy nothing more than throwing a fit of disappointment about what kind of Greek he’d become. Just like when he stopped going to church after Helena passed away.

  “Ah, but she is a beauty and a kind soul.” Momma continued to work on her baklava. He narrowed his eyes, but his pulse raced with anticipation. “She must find a good American man to get her away from all these miners,” she continued. Alex’s stomach dropped.

  She set aside her rolling pin. Pushing her silver-dusted hair from her forehead with the back of her wrist, she added, “Stergios adores Mrs. McKee,” with a nod toward the back window. Papa was stoking the fire in the outdoor oven. A thin stream of smoke from his pipe joined the oven’s cloud. “He trusts her with his grandchildren.” She curled her lips. “But he’s not keen on seeing you gawking over her like you did at his name-day celebration.”

  Did everyone notice? Heat crawled up his neck as he recalled Yanni’s jest at the coffeehouse.

  Yes, he was smart to not agree with such accurate descriptions of the schoolteacher.

  His mother was testing him.

  “We were talking about my dead wife that night, Momma,” he spat out sharply.

  Momma sucked in air between her teeth with a glare then crossed herself three times. “May her memory be eternal.” She pointed her rolling pin at him. “Whatever you talked about, you must stop entertaining public conversations with the woman. Papa gets nervous that she will distract you.”

  “Then stop inviting her in,” he mumbled.

  “He’ll find you a good Greek girl, either in Salt Lake or back in Greece—”

  “I am not going to Greece, Momma,” he said. “I don’t need his help. I am nearing thirty years old. What man asks his papa for an arrangement at such an age?”

  Stergios swung the door open, ushering a blast of cold air into the warm kitchen. Momma raised her brow and set her mouth into a thin straight line. He’d seen that look before. The one she’d given him many times when the priests would visit and he’d have to bite his skeptical tongue. The one look that screamed, Don’t you dare think about it.

  “Alex, you should get to bed,” Papa said. “You’ll be exhausted for your shift tonight.” He tossed his gloves on the counter and blew on his hands.

  “I don’t like you going into the mines so late. I have no sleep on these nights.” Momma shook her head and furrowed her brow with worry. “All I do is pray. You should, too, Alex.”

  She never did miss the opportunity to remind him of the lack of prayer in his life.

  Alex gave a curt nod, giving her neither hope nor disappointment. “See you tomorrow.”

  He grabbed his coat and left the kitchen, his mouth watering as he caught a waft of the chicken roasting in the outdoor oven.

  At least life had not ended when he broke free of the church that seemed to bind most Greeks together in this land. He was still accepted—even if Momma tried to guilt him into forgoing his hikes. He was not shunned.

  A group of miners trudged down the hill from the mine, most waving at him. He had made some friends—Americans, Polish, even some Japanese. Coffey and a few of his friends trailed behind the group. They didn’t even look at him.

  How could Constantine be brave enough? He had her parents on his side. And they weren’t planning on staying here. There was a whole slew of men against Alex in Castle Gate. If Alex showed any interest in the schoolteacher, the men who already hated him would no doubt cost him his job.

  He ran his fingers in his curls beneath his fisherman’s cap then turned toward Greek Town. As much as he did not want to admit it, he must take his mother’s advice and stop listening to his heart. Besides, Leanna McKee would have nothing to do with him, would she? He was a miner in Castle Gate, Utah. A place she’d soon leave behind.

  By the time Leanna arrived in Salt Lake City, the town was fully awake, clattering with familiar city sounds. She boarded a trolley at the train station and found a seat near a window. The trolley was alive with conversation—some in foreign languages and some American men talking about Admiral Murdock and British relations.

  “The Brits declare us to be an important part of the English-speaking family,” one man said loudly. He then chuckled. “If only they knew the jibber jabber we contend with day in and day out.” He flicked his head to the back of the trolley where a huddle of immigrants were carrying on.

  Leanna sighed, the tug of her heart and reason were forever at odds. She prayed the rest of the way, begging for her prejudice to never surface again. These loud opinions grated on her, and she wondered if her place was to shed light, or allow the darkness to continue?

  When the trolley stopped at the corner of South Temple and O Streets, she hurried down the steps, assuring herself that staying silent was the wise thing to do.

  The street was lined with newly built four-square homes. Inviting porches were flanked with bay windows, some framing cozy parlors lit by roaring fires. The idyllic neighborhood was nothing like the poorly built one of the mining company. Her excitement grew with each step, and gratitude filled her at this opportunity.

  She could never get past all the shame that filled her in Castle Gate, especially with men like Anthis triggering her old bitterness. And then there was Alex—but all he brought about for her were new, bright memories, and the promise for more on the horizon.

  No, this was where she belonged. Leanna straightened her hat and turned up the Scotts’ walkway. She climbed the brick steps and knocked, fiddling with her overcoat and gloves.

  Soft footsteps drew closer on the other side of the door. A freckled boy answered, half-hiding behind the cracked door.

  “Hello?” he said.

  “Good afternoon.” He was about the same age and height as Maria, but not nearly as animated. “Is your mother in?”

  “Are you Mrs. McKee?”

  “I am. And you are?”

  “I am Tommy. I am to show you to the parlor.” He pushed the door open and leaned his back against it. “Come in.”

  “Thank you.” She stepped inside and waited for Tommy to show her to the parlor. He took her to a square room with a settee and two high-back chairs.

  “I’ll get my mother.” He ran off and clambered up the stairs in the foyer.

  A fire licked the fireplace, filling the room with the warm smell of cedar. The mantel boasted watercolors displayed on miniature easels. In the center was a photograph set in a silver frame. A small boy, most likely Tommy, and a man and a woma
n, most likely his parents, stood at the gate at Temple Square. Leanna had seen the magnificent architecture when she’d first arrived in Salt Lake.

  “Good morning, Mrs. McKee.”

  Leanna spun away from the artwork. A short woman with a pile of blond curls pinned to her head sailed into the room. She carried a tray of china that she placed on the coffee table. Her round face was aglow with rosy cheeks, and her sparkling green eyes offered kindness.

  “I am Bethany Scott,” she said, extending her hand.

  “I am Leanna McKee. Thank you so much for meeting with me.” They shook hands.

  “Do you like watercolors?” Mrs. Scott asked while turning her attention to the tea service.

  “I do. These are wonderful.”

  “Thank you. It is a hobby.” She began to pour a cup of tea. “Please make yourself comfortable. Would you like some?”

  “That would be nice.” Leanna sat on the settee across from Mrs. Scott. Could she remember exactly how to carry herself in such a pretty setting as this parlor? How long had it been since she was surrounded by such civility? Three years, maybe four?

  Mrs. Scott handed her a teacup and saucer then served herself. “I must say, it shocked me when Mother told me she was sending you for the interview.” She raised an eyebrow.

  Leanna shifted in her seat. “To be honest, your father seemed more enthusiastic than she did.” She sipped her tea, praying that a woman like Mrs. Tilton wouldn’t ruin her chances.

  “Ah, that makes sense. Mother would never jeopardize her reputation with her gaggle. You see, we haven’t been on the best terms with my parents.” She sighed. “They do not understand my leaving the Church of Latter Day Saints.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t aware.” Leanna’s nerves settled a bit.

  “It is quite an embarrassment for them. They are resistant to change and we are very open with our Protestant belief. So to have them recommend someone like you, who attends Castle Gate’s Methodist church, was a shock to say the least.”

  “You don’t know how much I understand the predicament.” She had not expected the conversation to take this path; however, there was an easiness about Mrs. Scott. “I chose a different lifestyle than my own upbringing. My parents have hardly spoken a word to me since.”

  Mrs. Scott placed her teacup on its saucer and set it on the table. With genuine interest, she leaned in and clasped her hands in her lap. “Where are you from, Mrs. McKee?”

  “I am from Boston. I married a Scottish worker from my father’s factory.” Leanna also set her tea down. “It dashed all my parents’ hopes of my remaining in high society with a rich husband and a social calendar.”

  “Ah, marriage is at the crux of it, isn’t it?” In one dramatic motion, Mrs. Scott collapsed into the back of her chair, a disapproving posture for any socialite. “My husband is to blame for my conversion, in their opinion.” She studied Leanna with smiling eyes. “We are similar in a way, aren’t we?”

  “We are.” Had she found a kindred spirit in Mrs. Scott?

  Mrs. Scott began to ramble on about her own history—how she met her husband at a social with a mutual friend, and when her parents chose to bank in Castle Gate, she got married and made a home in the city. The woman was animated in her storytelling, and Leanna’s cheeks hurt from smiling at the tale.

  How strange to feel such a wave of familiarity toward a person she hardly knew. Their conversation was reminiscent of her talks with her sewing circle in Boston. She’d forgotten the need for a friend in all of her recent hardship. Sitting in the sunlit parlor refreshed her spirit. Would their meeting linger into the late afternoon hours? She hoped so.

  “My parents tell me you teach English to the Greeks. My son has trouble with reading and mathematics. We’re considering hiring a full-time tutor instead of enrolling him in the local school.” She topped off each of their cups. “Are you inclined to modern education, Mrs. McKee?”

  Her spirit leaped at the question about one of her greatest passions. “Absolutely. It is my mission to teach children, especially those in greater need than others,” Leanna said. “The two Pappas children I care for have shown such potential in the short time I’ve spent with them. I am confident that Tommy could excel with individualized attention—” Her throat tightened at the comparison. The Scott’s child might excel, but would he capture her heart like Maria and Teddy?

  Mrs. Scott continued on about the many activities they were involved in, and how her husband, Dr. Scott, was often busy with hospital affairs. She patted Leanna’s knee. “I certainly wouldn’t mind having a friend around here also. I think we could be good friends, Mrs. McKee.” She beamed, her eyes flashing adoringly.

  Leanna’s bittersweet thoughts melted away and she smiled once again. “I agree.”

  “I must first speak with my husband about your credentials, but I am certain we can work something out. Would starting at the end of January give you enough time to tie up loose ends in Castle Gate?”

  January was only a month away, and she had to give Alex time to find help. Her stomach turned. Why did she feel allegiance to him? She cleared her throat. “It should be enough time. I would need to find room and board in Salt Lake, too.”

  “Oh, do not worry about that, dear.” Mrs. Scott bit into a piece of shortbread. She wiped the corners of her mouth and continued, “We have a spare room. Stay with us until you are settled, and then you can look come spring.”

  A house servant interrupted their conversation, and Mrs. Scott excused herself to assist in the kitchen. Leanna finished up her tea and cookie alone, admiring the window scene. A red-breasted robin flew into the yard outside then two more joined him. Life seemed more abundant in a few hours here than in her entire first year in Castle Gate.

  But what of this second winter? This one amid the Pappas family? This one with a strong Greek man’s arms holding her when times were difficult?

  Bethany Scott offered her a tempting alternative, one that would secure her a steady position and a much more suitable lifestyle. The Lord had plucked her from her misery and given her this amazing gift. Perhaps she could just stay here this evening, in Salt Lake, and become better acquainted with the town. Sort out her thoughts and spend time away from Castle Gate for a while. A few weeks ago she’d have longed to do so. But even if she tried to talk herself out of it, she urgently desired to return.

  As much as she resisted admitting it, Alex Pappas was a loose end mentioned by Mrs. Scott. He had become a part of Leanna’s life as an employer. But he had also become a friend—first to her late husband and recently to her, as well. Why did he try to keep her in the dark about his intentions during his first days in America?

  Mrs. Scott returned to her seat and offered Leanna a truffle. “The cook enjoys making candies. Not so good for my figure, but such a treat.” She grinned.

  The chocolate was filled with cherry, reminding Leanna of Mrs. Pappas’s glyká. Even after she swallowed, a lump sat in her throat.

  Leanna began to put on her gloves. “I look forward to hearing from you, Mrs. Scott. It was a pleasure meeting with you today.”

  Yes, speak eagerly and willing. Mostly for her own heart to hear such wise affirmation.

  Mrs. Scott clapped her hands saying, “Of course,” then sprung up from her seat, holding her hand out. “You are such a delight, Mrs. McKee. We’ll soon have you away from the grim Castle Gate and in a proper home where you obviously belong.” She chuckled as they shook hands.

  Leanna stepped into the orange glow of late afternoon. Mrs. Scott’s assumption of her current home being a less-than-proper one crossed her mind. She was certain Mrs. Tilton had painted that picture. But Leanna could not muster up any sense of embarrassment or pride—her mind was too distracted by an attractive Greek man who’d made the chance to leave Castle Gate a more difficult decision than it should be.

  Alex spied her from his trek down the hill before she saw him. She stood with her arms crossed over her long overcoat, her ivory skin aglow beneath th
e shade of the porch roof. Even her reflection in the window glass beside her was nearly as intriguing as her actual figure.

  Resisting his heart was becoming more difficult. The brave woman who had put even Anthis into his place, also seemed vulnerable—cheated from love and security—two treasures that the Pappas family held most dear. Alex Pappas could offer the first, but security was the one thing that might fail, for them both.

  He must remain strong, perhaps even encourage Leanna to leave once and for all. Who could he find for the children, though? And could he imagine life in Castle Gate without Leanna McKee brightening up the town?

  Mrs. Coffey stopped to converse with Leanna when Alex was halfway down the road. He ground his teeth and slowed his pace. How could such a tiny woman block his view?

  Wasn’t it perfectly ironic, though? The counterpart of the one man who hated him most would steal away his sight of the one who’d given him hope in—

  He muttered, “You are a fool.” In several ways. First, he was irritated by such a wiry lady, and second, he was playing with a lit match, a flame that could surely burn him and the golden-haired schoolteacher if they weren’t careful.

  In eight years, Alex had never felt so drawn to a person. His mind had been on one goal only: to better the life of his family. But just as his parents had nagged him to live life beyond work, his heart began to long for such a chance at living. Not in the way his parents hoped for, however. Could Leanna give him that? He didn’t know how yet, but even if he wanted to find out, he must resist.

  He stalled until Mrs. Coffey continued on her way down Main. Leanna’s shoulders sagged with a sigh, and she blew a stray curl from her face. When she caught Alex’s gaze, she waved halfheartedly.

  He jaunted across Main Street. “Good morning, Leanna.” He tipped his hat.

  She adjusted her coat, lowering her eyes behind long lashes. “Hello, Alex.”

  He diverted his attention, glimpsing Mrs. Coffey disappearing into the bank with a quick look over her shoulder. He must covet that as a warning. For his family, for his heart.