by Indiana Wake
The house was a good size, especially for such a small family, and looked neat and tidy from the outside, the white painted wood looking fresh. There was an equally white wooden fence enclosing the plot entirely, as if to clearly mark the home as very separate from the sprawling lumber yard.
Grace could see that some attempt had been made with the garden, but it had a look of abandonment. It wouldn’t take much to make it as neat as the house looked, just a few hours of pulling up the weeds, all brown from the ravages of winter.
Grace could almost imagine the garden full of pretty flowers in the summer and tried to imagine herself taking on the work and, more importantly, enjoying the distraction it would provide from her brutalized heart.
The sound of movement from inside the lumber yard building brought Grace back to herself and reminded her that she would soon have to make her way down from her hiding place and find Mr. Lacey.
She took a deep breath before setting off, judging that he would more likely be in the lumber yard rather than inside his house. But she felt nervous as she made her way down, wondering what sort of man he might be or if he had already filled the position and she was wasting her time.
Of course, these were only things she could discover if she continued to put one foot in front of the other.
And she knew she wasn’t just putting one foot in front of the other to make her way down the tree-lined slope, but to make her way into the rest of her life.
As she finally reached level ground and began to walk toward the large building, Grace was startled by the sudden appearance of a man driving a horse and wagon from around the back. She vaguely recognized him as somebody she had seen out on the trail, another traveler who had made that arduous journey and lived to tell the tale.
He clearly recognized her too, nodding his head and smiling, but choosing not to stop. Grace could see that his wagon was full of timber, long timbers, the sort of thing that would be used in house building. She waved at him and continued on her way, letting him know that it was all right to go on, to keep moving, and to get on with his life.
She felt a familiar sense of the deepest pain when she thought that she and Peter would undoubtedly have purchased their own timber from this place. She imagined them, a young married couple driving away with the beginnings of their new home hanging precariously from the back of their wagon.
She felt the swirling grief in her chest, the sting in her eyes as they filled with tears. She stopped in her tracks, standing at what suddenly felt like a crossroads in her life.
But crossroads ordinarily suggested that a person had a choice to make, options to choose. Grace knew she didn’t have any, and it was far less of a crossroads than a straight path that would lead to wherever it was life intended to take her. There was no choice, there were no options, this was it.
The moment of harsh reality was more helpful than she could have imagined, somehow making it easier for her to draw back those tears and blow out a great breath to somehow expel a little of that painful grief and sense of hopelessness.
Grace straightened up and set off once again, this time striding more confidently, knowing that there was nothing else for it but to keep going.
“Can I help you, Ma’am?” The man appeared so suddenly in the doorway she was approaching that Grace almost gasped.
He was a tall man and very broad, seeming to fill the doorway he currently inhabited. She guessed immediately that he must be Josh Lacey, for there was something about him which suggested he belonged there. He was in his own place, his purpose made clear in this world, and there was a calm about him which spoke of home.
He was older than Grace by some years, maybe ten or twelve, and she judged him to be maybe thirty or thirty-two. But he looked good nonetheless, certainly fit and healthy, with lightly tanned skin and dark blond hair the color of ashes.
“Yes, Sir,” Grace said and smiled at him. “I was looking for Mr. Josh Lacey.”
“And you have found him,” he said and smiled back.
“Oh,” Grace said, not because she was surprised that she was speaking to the man himself, but because she realized she didn’t know where to begin. “Well, I was just… what I mean to say is, I saw your advertisement in the local paper, Mr. Lacey.”
“I see,” he said and seemed strangely relieved. “Well, why don’t I take you on over to the house and show you around. No good me showing you about the lumber yard, after all.” He laughed a little stiffly and tipped his head in the direction of the house, indicating that she should follow him.
They walked through the little gate in silence, Grace looking more closely at the garden and realizing that it really did need some care. Still, that would be a job for the warmer weather, not for winter.
“Come on in, Miss…?” he said, opening the door and turning to look at her all at once.
“Salter.” She nodded. “Grace Salter.”
“Come on in, Miss Salter,” he said, and Grace fought an urge to correct him, to tell him that she was Mrs. Salter, a married woman.
She knew that now was not the time, and he could easily be forgiven for assuming that she was an unmarried woman. She was young, after all, at just twenty, and a married woman would hardly be looking for work as a live-in housekeeper.
“Thank you,” she said and walked into a wide entrance hall.
She realized then just how large the house was, remembering that her own home back east had a door that opened straight into a little sitting room.
But despite the fact that the house was clearly well-built and of a good size, Grace could see signs of neglect even there in the hallway.
The place was dusty, not terribly so, but enough to give it that unkempt feeling. There was a well-made wooden table with various dusty trinkets on it and a glass jug full of green-looking water with long-dead flowers hanging uselessly over the rim.
The flowers looked like a mixture of wild ones, possibly from the overgrown little garden, but given that they were now in the depths of winter, Grace realized just how long the jug had been there. And the flowers had been so inexpertly arranged that she wondered if Mr. Lacey’s daughter had put them there.
Josh opened the door from the hallway and she followed him into a large sitting room. It was nicely set out with some very fine furniture, and the drapes and little pillows were made from some very beautiful fabric of a delicate floral design.
Somebody had put a good deal of effort into making those things, into arranging everything in that special way which made a house into a home.
But there was also the same dust and feeling of neglect that had been evident in the entrance hall, and the whole thing made her feel suddenly a little sad.
From what Connie had told her, Josh Lacey’s wife had died some two years before and it was clear to Grace that the woman had made a very nice home for her husband and daughter. And while it was still a very fine home, the signs of neglect seemed to serve as a reminder that somebody was missing, somebody who ought to have been there, but no longer was.
She suddenly felt very sorry for Mr. Lacey, knowing that he had undoubtedly suffered as she had, albeit a while back.
“I guess the place needs a little attention,” he said with a shrug and she noted that he didn’t seem embarrassed, just weary somehow.
“Not a great deal, Mr. Lacey. Just a little dusting here and there, but otherwise, you have a very fine home, Sir.”
“Thank you,” he said and nodded in appreciation. “I guess my wife kept things going, kept everything nice. And Janet tries her hardest, but she’s not had it easy these last couple of years.”
“Janet is your daughter?” Grace said, relieved to finally have the child named.
“Yes, Janet is my daughter. She’s down at the schoolhouse at the moment and I don’t suppose she’ll be back for an hour or so.”
“What a shame, I’d like to meet her.” Grace smiled and followed him into the kitchen.
The kitchen was big and square. It was spacious in
the way she had imagined her own kitchen being when she and Peter talked of the wonderful house they would build on their hundreds of acres of land. And of every room she’d seen thus far, it was certainly the cleanest.
“And there are four bedrooms on the other side of the house, just through this door here.” He went on, leading her through the door from the kitchen into a long corridor from which the bedrooms could be accessed.
“And this room here would be yours if you choose to take the job, Miss Salter,” he said, leading her straight into a large guest bedroom that was neat, tidy, and absolutely spotless.
No doubt he had taken some pains with this room, determined to have it nice in the hope that he would soon have a caretaker not only for his house, but his daughter too.
“What a lovely room, Mr. Lacey,” Grace said truthfully as she took in the large bed, the well-made furniture, the little chair and table set under the large window.
The fabrics were as nice as those in the sitting room and she imagined once again that everything had been handmade by the woman of the house when she was still alive.
“I guess there’s not much else to show you. I know you’d have your work cut out for you getting the place straight, but do you think it’s something that you would be interested in?” He led her back in toward the kitchen and pulled out a chair for her to sit down at the large rectangular wooden table.
There was something in his air which seemed hopeful, almost desperate, although he had the sort of steady facial features which hid it well.
“I don’t think it would take very long to get things in order here, Mr. Lacey,” Grace said with a reassuring smile. “But what about Janet? Is she looking forward to having somebody coming to live here?”
It occurred to Grace that he had said very little about the daughter he had been keen to point out in his advertisement. She could see that the question was one he was considering very carefully, and she had the strongest sense that there was a struggle, a story to be told.
“Janet, as I said, hasn’t had an easy time of it. But I won’t lie to you, Miss Salter, she is not an easy girl to get along with. She is angry at the world and everyone in it.” He shrugged as if he had come to the conclusion that honesty was the best policy. “My wife died two years ago, and I reckon Janet hasn’t yet gotten used to the idea of losing her ma.”
“That’s understandable, Mr. Lacey. Grief is a horrible thing, so destructive.” Grace bit her lower lip, determined not to discuss her own circumstances at all unless directly asked about them.
“And to answer your question, no, she’s not looking forward to having somebody coming to live here. I’ve tried more than once, you see, and it’s never yet worked out. Janet has a habit of chasing everyone away and I haven’t managed to keep a live-in housekeeper here for more than a few weeks. So, I guess you probably realize that keeping the house straight is going to be the easy part.” He shrugged again and there was such resignation in it that Grace wanted to cry.
She had the idea that Josh Lacey didn’t expect the situation to ever improve. No housekeeper had ever stayed, and experience clearly told him that none ever would.
Something about the idea made Grace suddenly determined to take on the challenge. She knew what it was to feel like a lost cause, but she couldn’t help but wonder how awful it would be to feel that way two years from now. The last few weeks had been hard enough but for it to go on and on was an idea that frightened her.
If she could somehow do something to end that state for this man and his daughter, would she somehow manage the same thing for herself in the process?
“Well, Mr. Lacey, I used to work as a school teacher back east and I do have some experience of dealing with awkward children. I reckon a little perseverance, a little determination, might be the answer. It’s certainly worth a try, isn’t it?” She smiled at him and saw him suddenly relax entirely as if the strain of it all was evaporating off him like steam from a wet blanket in front of a fire.
Grace silently prayed that she would be able to somehow get through to the little girl she had yet to meet, knowing that of all things, she did not want to give the man sitting across the table from her any false hope.
Only time would tell if Grace would be able to help them both and, in so doing, help herself.
Chapter 4
The first few days in the Lacey household had been tough and Grace had found herself greatly relieved that Connie had promised to keep her room at the boarding house empty for a full week before renting it out to another border.
Grace had been sad to leave Connie, even though she had only stayed with her for a matter of days, and when the older woman had bid her something of a tearful farewell, she realized that she had truly made another friend.
With a promise to return to her whenever she had time off to give her all the details of her new life at the Lacey homestead, Grace had hugged Connie tightly before leaving.
By the third day in her new job, Grace wondered if she might see dear old Connie rather sooner than she had imagined.
Janet Lacey was not going to be an easy child to reach, if reaching her was even possible. She was a pretty girl with blonde hair that was so much lighter than her father’s and so curly that Grace was sure she must have inherited it from her mother. But the little green eyes, bright and clear, were exactly like Josh Lacey’s own.
But whereas Josh had a steady, almost unreadable character, his daughter was anything but. From the very moment she set eyes on Grace, it was clear that the little girl had already decided to dislike her.
Their introduction had been on the very day that Grace had moved her belongings to the house. At first, Janet had been nowhere to be seen, something that Josh was most apologetic about.
“Miss Salter, I did tell her you were coming this morning and that she should be here in this house to greet you when you arrived. I sure am sorry about that.”
“Please, don’t worry about it. I guessed it would take a little getting used to for her and I reckon it’s just fine to let her take things at her own pace.” Grace tried to reassure him and, since the little girl didn’t look set to come home anytime soon, he left her alone to arrange her belongings in her new room.
It certainly didn’t take Grace long to have everything arranged, her few dresses hung up and her two books set out on the nightstand. She looked at them and smiled, relieved that she was in paid work and would soon have a little money with which to buy one or two more.
Nothing extravagant, just something small here and there along the way while she saved her money to one side for her passage back to Missouri.
By the time afternoon arrived, Janet still had not returned. It being a Saturday, Josh closed the lumber yard at noon and returned to the house.
“I’m guessing there’s still no sign?” he said cautiously when he walked into the kitchen.
“I’m afraid not.” Grace smiled and carried on peeling vegetables.
In the absence of her little charge, Grace had decided to immediately make herself useful. It was true that she felt out of place, unsettled, but that was just the way of things. This was a new home, a new job, a new life altogether, and it would take as much adjusting to for her as it would for the absent Janet.
Janet did not arrive until the meal Grace had been carefully preparing was almost ready. When she finally did appear, it was clear that the little girl expected trouble.
She looked defiant and trepidatious all at once, as if she had been keen to insult the newcomer but cautious of upsetting her daddy at the same time.
Janet was small for her age, but very far from fragile looking. She stood with her arms pressed tightly to her sides and her chin up as she surveyed Grace with obvious annoyance. Her little green eyes seemed to flash with disdain and her mouth was drawn in so tightly it caused little wrinkles on her young skin.
“Janet, I asked you to stay here this morning,” Josh said with controlled annoyance. “I told you that Miss Salter was coming today, di
dn’t I?”
“Sorry, Daddy,” she said and smiled up at him.
“I reckon it’s Miss Salter you owe your apology to now, don’t you?” He spoke in a gentle tone that managed to be firm at the same time and he raised his eyebrows at her expectantly.
“Sorry,” Janet said in the most graceless manner imaginable, hardly even looking at Grace as she gave her unconvincing apology.
“Once again, but this time like you mean it.” Josh’s tone had become firmer still.
“I’m sorry, Miss Salter,” Janet said in a sweet tone while giving Grace the angriest look imaginable, a look her father could not see.
“Well, it sure is nice to meet you, Janet.” Grace smiled, choosing to ignore the antagonism.
“And Miss Salter has prepared a nice meal for us all to enjoy. I reckon you ought to go get yourself washed up now, Janet,” Josh went on.
And it was true, Janet Lacey really did need to get herself washed up for dinner. Although she was wearing a pretty dress, it was dusty and marked, a testament to a day spent out of doors playing. Her hands were dirty too, as was her forehead which had become streaked with dirt, probably as she had continually pushed her long and untamed curly blonde hair out of her eyes.
“I’m not hungry,” Janet said defiantly.
“If you’ve been out all day, I’m sure you’re hungry,” Grace said gently, recognizing the determined little rebellion and trying to give Janet a way out of it.
“I just said I’m not hungry,” she said again.
“Janet, you will not speak to Miss Salter that way. She’s worked hard this afternoon to prepare this food for us and it’s time you were a little more gracious.”
“I don’t want anything to eat, Daddy.”
“Very well, then there’s no reason for you to stay up. Go and get yourself washed up and changed and get into bed.” Although he was firm, Josh didn’t speak to her unkindly.
