“Will the establishment serve them?”
“The hotel owner has freedmen working for him. I know him.”
“Equal but separate accommodations are still the norm,” she said, obviously concerned. “People get ugly, and you know they do."
“I’ll tell you what,” he said. “To ease your mind that there won’t be a scene, I’ll go speak with the hotel manager now and make reservations.”
She nodded. “That’s a good idea.”
The hotel manager himself seated them that evening. The table was set for nine, with a red linen cloth, red-and-white striped napkins and white ironstone. Three small bouquets of salvia, zinnias and marigolds cheered the setting.
Abraham had joined them, surprising Raylene, and he was seated between Almira and Emerald. John Jay, dressed in gray trousers and a pressed and pleated pin-stripe shirt, held out Meriday’s chair and then seated himself beside her. She gave him a bashful smile. Samuel’s wife, Cardee, was a full-figured woman with a broad smile. Tanner introduced the older pair and offered them chairs across from himself and Raylene.
“Your name is lovely,” Raylene told her. “I’ve never known anyone with your name before.”
“Thank you. It is my birth name,” she replied with a melodious accent that sounded French to her ears.
A well-dressed couple at a nearby table observed their group surreptitiously, and when Raylene made eye contact, the woman offered a tight-lipped smile. Raylene was pleasantly surprised at their party’s welcome—and proud of their fellow citizens, of which she knew none personally.
Tanner had asked Della to care for Lillian while they had dinner, and her presence was starkly missing. It was odd not to see the baby’s bright eyes as she lay in someone’s arms at mealtime or to be unable to glance over and find her sleeping in her basket.
Dinner prepared by someone else was a delight, however. She hadn’t been in a hotel restaurant for years, and she stared at the menu selections, undecided. “Have you eaten here before?” she asked Tanner.
“I’ve eaten here often,” he replied.
Of course, he had. A busy unmarried man in need of a quick meal didn’t prepare much more than simple meals for himself.
The first course was a dark onion soup made with port wine and toasted bread cubes atop. Raylene ate the rich soup one flavorful spoonful at a time, enjoying every drop. She and Meriday compared notes, deciding they could devise a similar recipe.
“I do believe there is garlic, as well,” Cardee added.
“You’re right,” Raylene answered. “We could make this.”
“And it would make a very fancy dinner,” Cardee said. “I have never been to a hotel before. It is very nice.”
“This is my first time here,” Raylene answered.
“Samuel is soon to have responsibilities at the livery,” she said.
Meriday leaned into Raylene’s shoulder to speak to Cardee. “John Jay speaks kindly of your husband. They will make a good team.”
Raylene turned and found Tanner watching her. His unique eyes were bright and showed his satisfaction with their evening thus far. She was reminded of the intimacy of looking into his gaze the night they’d kissed on the porch. Heat bloomed in her cheeks.
Thankfully, the waiters served their main dishes then, and she had an excuse to look away. She’d ordered the venison cutlet with squash and brussels sprouts. A perfectly round scoop of mashed potatoes completed the plate. The aroma made her mouth water, but she waited until the others were served, admiring their plates of roast turkey, grilled trout and steaming steaks.
“I’d like to say a blessing, if that’s all right,” Tanner said.
Raylene admired this man so much, and his faith was only one of the reasons. The others bowed their heads, and he reached for her hand, catching her off guard.
“Thank You, Father, for Your provision in our lives,” he said. “Thank You for our friends and our community and families. Comfort us, please, Lord, as we grieve our losses. We embrace changes and ask for Your guidance and wisdom. Give us direction and peace with our decisions, Lord. Thank You for this feast and bless it to the nourishment of our bodies, in Jesus name, amen.”
Amens chorused around the table.
He squeezed Raylene’s hand and released it. She glanced up to meet Cardee’s wide brown eyes with tears welled in them. She gave her what she hoped was a comforting smile. Samuel held his wife’s hand against his chest and patted it. They smiled at one another.
Raylene appreciated seeing the others enjoying their meal. Hers was delicious.
“My great nephew, he comes to your school,” Samuel said across the table as the waiter removed their plates.
“He does? What’s his name?”
“Abner.”
“Oh, of course. He’s a bright young man. Very polite and helpful. When I ask for assistance, he always raises his hand.”
Samuel smiled. “He is like a son to us. We have raised him since he was a small boy.”
Raylene had no idea what they’d been through individually or separately, but she imagined lives of servitude and bitter loss. They appeared to be happy together now. She couldn’t do anything about the past, but she felt strongly about making an impact on the future.
The following morning, everyone was in good spirits. In the sitting room, Emerald played the piano in her charming off-key way. She had probably once been adequate enough to play for students, but now her playing had Raylene wondering about her hearing. No one seemed to mind, and Emerald enjoyed it, so she and Meriday went about their routines. Lillian was awake atop a thin mattress they’d devised out of the remaining feathers and placed on the kitchen floor. Meriday peeled potatoes and hummed.
Raylene had wrapped a kerchief over her hair and was beating rugs on the clothesline when hammering rang out. She glanced to either side of the lot, seeing nothing going on at her neighbors’. She walked around to the front of the house. A short stack of flat boards had been piled beside the walkway, and Tanner knelt on the porch, wedging one into place.
“Whatever are you doing?” she asked.
The hammer he’d raised stilled in mid-air, and he lowered it. He removed two nails from between his lips to reply. “Replacing these boards. I’ll cut some for those steps and fix those as well.”
“Why are you doing that?”
“Because they’re worn and starting to splinter. Someone could fall.”
“I didn’t ask you to fix the porch. I can take care of the repairs.”
“I know you didn’t ask me.” He dropped the nails into a small cloth bag and sat back on his heels. “You’ve got your hands full taking care of the inside, cooking, gardening, caring for Lillian, teaching…this is something I can easily do, and I’m free this morning.”
“I can pay to have it done. I don’t expect you to do work. You’re a boarder here. I take care of you.”
Tanner threaded a hand into his hair and his lips flattened. He dropped both hands to his denim-clad thighs and looked at her. “Seems you have a problem with me offering any kind of help. You rejected my offer for firewood, you didn’t let me hoe, and now you object to a few simple chores?”
He got to his feet and descended the stairs, avoiding the weakest one, which she now noticed likely bowed under his weight.
“You offered a cradle for Lillian, and a lot of work went into that. You and Meriday made bedding for that and for her basket. I believe you paid for the feathers. You sewed Lillian a dress for her christening, and apparently all that is fine as long as you’re the giver, but when I try to do one thing, you behave as though I’m appropriating your position.”
She put her hands on her hips and looked away, considering his words.
“I’m not trying to take anything from you, Raylene,” he said. “Your independence is firmly intact. I know full well you could hire someone to do this or likely do it yourself if you set your mind to it, but you’re busy, and I wanted to help. Does accepting help threaten you?”
It did. Needing help made her feel inadequate, and nothing felt worse. She’d spent her whole life striving to be good enough, to measure up, to make up for her deficiencies. She hated the tightening in her throat and the emotion welling in her chest that proved her weakness.
He was challenging her to accept his help. She never backed down from a challenge. “Fine. You can help.”
She dared a glance.
He shook his head. Then the side of his mouth quirked up. “Well, thank you, Mrs. Cranford, for the privilege of repairing your porch.”
He turned and climbed the stairs, knelt and went back to work, hammering a nail.
She wanted to fix what she’d just done. She approached the steps and stood with a hand on the banister. “I’m not unappreciative,” she said.
A junco landed on a branch in the dogwood bush at the corner of the porch and cheeped at her. The next whack of his hammer frightened it off.
“You’re right,” she added. “I do feel diminished when I don’t have everything in order and flawlessly done. I know you’re helping, and I’m sorry for the way I reacted.”
He stopped, seemed to be weighing the tool in his hand, then rested it on the floor and got to his feet again. He went down two steps and sat on the porch floor. “Will you sit?”
She climbed two stairs and perched. Close, but lower than where he was seated. After self-consciously pulling the kerchief from her hair, she ran her fingers through the sides, tucking them up. She likely looked a fright.
“You’re always helping others. So why do you think accepting help makes you feel that way?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” She locked her fingers in front of her knees and looked toward the street. “It takes a lot of effort to make up for my deficits.”
“Your deficits? And what are those?”
“You know.”
The woman kept Tanner in a constant state of perplexity. Try as he might, he couldn’t think of a single thing he was supposed to recognize as a shortcoming. Except maybe the way she held off people. “Does it have anything to do with that snooty drawl you puff up when you feel out of place?”
She turned her head and glared up at him with her eyebrows raised. “What? I do not do that!”
“Well, ma’am, you surely do. I found it markedly annoying at first, but after a while it amused me.” He was glad she wasn’t holding the hammer right now, because he got the distinct impression that she would have thrown it at him. “I guess that wasn’t what you were talking about.”
“No, it wasn’t. And I don’t think I do that.”
“You do.”
She looked away and made an exasperated face.
A brown wren landed on the walkway and pecked at the grass beside the path.
“Do I truly do that?”
“Yes,” he replied. “It’s not that annoying.”
“What else?”
“You really want me to say this?”
She nodded.
He took a breath. “Don’t get me wrong, now. Your dresses and hats are beautiful—but they’re not like the clothing the other women wear. Sometimes it seems like you’re putting on airs with your hats and jewelry and satin bows.”
“That’s what I always wore to church back home.”
“I suppose it was. But it does set you apart here. If that’s your intention, it’s working.”
“I didn’t lose everything just so I could forsake my heritage,” she said defensively.
He nodded as though considering her words. “Tell me this. Do you see me as a Yankee?”
“I see everyone here as Yankees.” She looked up at him. “Except the Negros.”
“I’m just a man.” His voice was soft and thick with emotion.
She nodded.
“I think I understand, Raylene,” he said. “You never chose this life. You said it before—this place means survival for you. This wasn’t your way of life, and you were uncomfortable. So, you erected defenses.”
She picked at a thread on her skirt. “I’ve always been this way. Even at home. Like I told you, I compensated.”
“Well, you’re going to have to explain it to me, because I still don’t understand. What have you been compensating for?”
“You really can’t imagine?”
“I really can’t imagine.”
Tresses of shiny pale hair blew against her slender neck in the breeze. He had the urge to move down closer and press his lips to the smooth pale skin there. Her wholesome scent had invaded his senses as soon as she’d seated herself. She seemed too delicate and naive to have survived all she had and still be decent and fragile.
“My parents instilled in me the need to be gentile and charming. More modest and graceful than all of the other young women. Now I still must be those things, as well as competent. I must gain respectability and keep up appearances, and also guard my good name and remain financially independent.”
“That seems like a lot to expect from yourself. What are you making up for?”
She flicked a tiny insect off her skirt. Her neck and cheek pinkened. “Not being pretty.”
For a moment he thought he hadn’t heard correctly. An ache lodged in his chest. He got up and moved down to the walkway, where he turned and knelt on the bricks in front of her. She kept her bright blue gaze fixed on her fabric-covered knees, refusing to look up.
“Look at me.”
Chapter Twelve
She blinked. Lifted her chin and focused on his shoulder.
“Look at me, Raylene.”
At last she did. She caught her lower lip with her teeth and then composed her expression.
“You are perfect.”
Raylene thought the wind was blowing through the cottonwoods, but the sound was her own pulse. No one had ever said that—no one had ever thought that about her. His irises were dark blue around the outside, lighter in the center, blending into a ring of amber around the pupil. She loved his eyes.
He took her hands in his, and she loved the rough feel of his callused fingers. He was handsome and perfect. Her embarrassment was agonizing. Of all the people to be aware of her shortcomings, she hadn’t wanted it to be this man.
“I’m not perfect,” she denied.
“Very well, you’re stubborn. But I’ll shine that up and call it determined. The things you checked off that were expected are indeed true. You’re gentile, charming, modest—all that, yes. But you have qualities one can’t teach or demand. You’re one of the kindest people I know. You give a hundred percent of yourself always, without holding back.”
“No, no I don’t.”
“Yes, you do. You take care of Lillian as though she’s your own.”
I wish she was.
“You’re concerned for future of the African children, and you’re doing something about it.”
“They deserve it,” she said.
“Yes, but you’re the only citizen of Twin Springs who is making an effort.”
“Mr. Holden offered books and Jennie Bailey has organized noon meals, so I’m not the only one.”
“I concede the point, but you were the first, and they’re following your lead. You go out of your way to look after everyone under your care, like they’re family. You play the piano and sing like an angel. I could listen to you all night every night. You prepare delicious meals and if you don’t know how to do something, you learn.
“You told me the first night I was here that because others had helped you, it was your responsibility to share what you have with others. Not all people feel that way or take that responsibility. It shows character to give of yourself.” He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. “I know those are all character traits, but they’re part of your perfection. You’re also a beautiful woman.”
She tried to slip her hand away, but he held it fast.
“No one ever said I was beautiful. Jennie told me I was pretty. But my parents considered me an embarrassment. The other young women in town talk among themselves an
d smirk.”
“You hold yourself apart, Raylene. You keep up a pretense and wear a mask, and I understand why. I wasn’t fooling about the drawl. Your Southern belle role is your protective shell, and it’s tough for outsiders to break through.”
“I lost everything, Tanner. My family, my home.”
“You didn’t lose the girl in here.” He tapped her breastbone with one finger. “You’re brave and smart and generous and—beautiful. Problem is that girl doesn’t know she’s beautiful.”
He released her hand and stood then, moving past her up the stairs.
She should be offended or embarrassed, but she wasn’t. He’d spoken straightforward wisdom. She’d believed she was hanging onto her heritage. She’d been certain she had to be perfect to prove her worth to herself—to others. But holding herself to a higher standard than the rest of the world was exhausting.
A tiny fissure appeared in her armor. He was either an excellent liar or he didn’t see her the way she’d always seen herself. What motive would he have to lie?
She couldn’t think of a single reason.
She stood and watched him for a few minutes, noting the expanse of his shoulders, the way his muscles appeared to flex beneath his shirt with every movement. She felt different, as though a shadow that had been her constant companion had disappeared. As though she could see a little more clearly, hear a little more keenly.
Meriday’s love and acceptance had always been her cornerstone. She’d turned herself inside out trying to earn others’ approval, because she didn’t know any other way, but she’d grown weary of feeling like a disappointment.
It seemed she had a lot more thinking to do.
A few mornings later, Abraham had asked at breakfast, “Mrs. Cranford, may I bring a guest to supper this evening?”
Forks halted in mid-air. Almira’s and Emerald’s gazes shot from Abraham to Raylene. Meriday looked at her plate and Tanner went back to eating.
“Yes, of course, Mr. Quint. I’ll set another place for your guest.”
Tanner (Bachelors and Babies Book 14) Page 13
