Lorraine

by Caroline Clemmons

  “That’s wonderful.” She lowered her voice. “Does Vadim know yet?”

  “Yes. We would have surprised him but he was in such a state we didn’t want to keep him in misery longer than necessary. He’s over there now.”

  “And his bride arrives the day after tomorrow. He must be so relieved to have a cozy home for her.”

  Grady’s smile beamed his pleasure. “You should have seen him dashing from one thing to another and saying ‘can this be mine’ or ‘I never expected to have something this grand’.”

  “Is he staying there or with the Gallaghers?”

  “Oh, he’s staying there. Don’t think we could entice him to leave. Lydia has invited his bride to stay with her until the wedding ceremony.”

  “Then, I’ll get to meet her and get acquainted—at least if she speaks English. I certainly don’t speak Polish.”

  “Vadim said she’s been studying English from a book. I don’t know how much help that will be until she hears the words spoken.”

  “Everyone at Lydia’s will help her. Of course, there’s not many of us there now.”

  “Right, you Bride Brigade ladies are becoming wives. Soon we won’t have any single women of marriageable age again.”

  “Oh, but Cassandra has a friend who’s coming and Rachel has two or three. If my friend Essie’s beau doesn’t propose soon, she’s coming here, too. I’m sure there will be a steady stream from now on.”

  “That’s good. I’m glad Matthew and our baby won’t be the only children born in Tarnation. Now that Elias and Ophelia have adopted three, we’ll be needing a school soon.” He nodded. “I’d better get back before Matthew wakes up in case Angeline needs to rest.”

  Lorraine loved that he referred to Angeline’s pregnancy as “our” baby. What a great minister he was, in the word’s true meaning, and a fine man. No wonder everyone in town loved him. Even his only detractors, Harlie Jackson and Ulie McGinnis, had capitulated and quit trying to oust Grady.

  Chapter Thirteen

  She took the pages to her desk. Before she sat down, she peeked at Grant again. He was sleeping soundly. Was his sleep too deep?

  Tiptoeing into the room, she leaned over and felt of his forehead. No fever. He was so handsome. She couldn’t resist and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. Before she could react, she was pulled on top of him.

  She scrambled up but he held her hand. “Grant, be careful of your injuries.”

  He kissed her fingers. “When I’m too wounded to hug a beautiful woman, you may as well shoot me.”

  She pretended to be stern. “Hmm, don’t give me ideas.” She couldn’t keep from laughing.

  “I heard voices but couldn’t wake enough to come investigate.”

  “Grady brought us obituary information on Elmo and Molly. I’ll have to get Tom’s from Jim or Brendan Callahan.”

  She straightened the pages of her story on the tornado. “Did you read this?”

  “I tried but I confess the words blurred and I gave in to sleep. I’ll read them now. Soon I’ll have to start setting type”

  “I’m eager to see the advertisements.”

  “I have them set and printed a trial page. They look great. Mrs. Horowitz’s baked chicken recipe fit perfectly under her husband’s advertisement.”

  “Wonderful. They’re such a nice couple. They’re almost your neighbors, aren’t they?”

  “Right. Across the street and down one house. He and Vadim speak different Polish dialects, but they can converse.”

  “I imagine sometimes each of them longs to hear their native language spoken.”

  “If I tell you something, you can’t tell anyone—not even Lydia or Prudence.”

  She laid her hand on her heart. “I promise.”

  “Claus Horowitz remembers Vadim’s grandfather. He was one of those who terrorized Jews and caused several deaths. When Vadim arrived here, Claus was conflicted. Vadim’s grandfather, who had the same name, was evil but our Vadim apparently wasn’t aware of that.”

  “Poor Claus. What a position to be in. I assume he didn’t disclose this to Vadim?”

  “No, he only told me in confidence once when we were chatting. I’m sure he didn’t intend to ever tell anyone. One of the reasons Vadim wanted to leave Poland was to escape all the politics and class struggles.”

  “If Claus heard Vadim say that, it must have comforted him. At least in a small way.”

  Grant nodded. “Hearing Vadim say why he wanted to come to America is why Claus is nice to Vadim—although I suspect he’s kind to everyone. Aleida treats Vadim with the same friendliness, even though one of the deaths was her uncle.”

  “How horrible. Even in this small town we’re a melting pot, aren’t we?”

  “One of the things I like about the West is that you mingle with all types of people. A few put on airs, but most don’t care about class rules. You might find a wealthy man eating with someone who has barely enough to pay for his meal. That they can still be good friends is something that appeals to me.”

  “I heard you’re judged by your word, your work, and your honor out here. I liked that.” She pulled her hand free of his. “Now I’d better get busy while you actually read my story.”

  He pretended to be stricken. “Give her a title and she becomes a harsh taskmaster.” But, he held the pages so he could read them.

  Lorraine resumed her place and added in the details she’d learned about Vadim moving into Molly Arrenton’s home. That had shaped into a touching story. She didn’t want Grant to accuse her of being too effusive and sweet and was careful while writing to keep her opinion neutral.

  By the time Lorraine finished, Molly Arrenton’s obituary was quite long, citing Molly as the eldest resident and the one who’d lived here longest. Angeline had included numerous bits about Molly. Lorraine used most of the details. Thank goodness Angeline had been collecting stories from all the people in town, especially the older ones.

  Poor Jenny Hubbard, tied to a man like Elmo after losing two sons in the war. Would Jenny remain in Tarnation? Checking her notes, Lorraine noted the couple had moved here five years ago from nearby Strawn. Good reporters weren’t allowed to express opinions, so she worked with the facts.

  Grant’s gait was steadier as he walked to the typesetting trays. “I’d better get this story set up plus the wired news.”

  Did the man ever give a clue what was in his mind? “What’s your opinion of my work?”

  Wrinkling his forehead, he stared at the papers in his hand. “You did a fine job.”

  She fisted her hands on her desk. “Are you going to add ‘for a woman’ to that?”

  At least he had the grace to appear embarrassed. “The story is written as well as any I’ve ever read.” He rubbed his neck. “Your writing style reminds me of something I’ve read recently. Drat, it’s in the back of my mind, but I can’t figure out what or where.” He picked out type and launched into setting up the front page.

  “I’m so pleased you really listed me as assistant editor.”

  He grinned at her. “Guess I can change my title to editor-in-chief.”

  She pretended to scowl at him. “Not unless you plan to wear an Indian headdress.” She relaxed and smiled. “Truce. You could put editor then owner. You’d get two lines then.”

  “One’s fine, thank you. By the way, I’m starving. Are you willing to go to the café and bring us something to eat? Ask Martha to add extra for me because I’ll probably just sleep here tonight.”

  She laid her pencil atop the pages on which she’d been composing obituaries. “I’ll hurry.”

  The wind had calmed and rain turned to fine drizzle but the road was muck. She carefully chose where she put her feet. In the café, she told Martha what she needed.

  “I’ll have you fixed up in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.” The woman laughed. “Not that you’ll see a lamb shaking his tail in here, of course. By the time we see them, they’re ready to be baked or served as chops.”

&
nbsp; Lorraine waved to several people she recognized. Knowing she was accepted and had friends here filled her with pleasure. She missed her mother terribly and also her friends Katie and Essie. All in all, though, she felt at home.

  In addition to the six women who traveled with her, Lydia, and Sophie, by now she’d met most Tarnation residents. Once again, she felt as if she were living in a large, extended family. Things looked to her as if she’d found her special place.

  Martha set a large basket on the counter. “Here you go. There’s also enough for Grant’s breakfast. When he starts working on the newspaper, he won’t stop to eat unless the food’s in his office.”

  “Obviously you’ve done this before.” She opened her purse.

  Martha shooed her. “He’ll pay me when he brings back the dishes. Man needs a woman to make sure he keeps a decent schedule.” She widened her eyes and nodded at Lorraine.

  Without responding to that, Lorraine hefted the basket and tackled the muddy street. Cold moisture seeped into her shoes through the soles. Obviously, she needed to purchase a pair of Wellington boots.

  Back at the office, she tried to clean her shoes at the door. She gave up and set the basket on her desk. “Martha said you don’t eat properly. From the weight of this basket, she sent a week’s worth of food.”

  Grant wiped his hands on a rag so dirty she didn’t think any of the ink on his hands would come off. She was surprised to see most had.

  He opened a container. “Ah, I thought I smelled Lonnie’s roast beef. I love this meal.”

  “I’ll bring in the other chair.” She pulled his visitor’s chair beside her desk. “She didn’t include a cider or lemonade.”

  “I drink water. When I work late, though, coffee would definitely help keep me alert. I’ll figure something out if you want me to do so.”

  She got two glasses from the back office and filled them with water. “Slow down, Grant. You’re wolfing your food so fast you’ll get a stomach ache.”

  Surprise shot across his face and he rubbed his abdomen. “You think that’s one reason I get heartburn?”

  “Grant, honestly. Have you told Riley about the heartburn?”

  He looked incredulous. “Naw, why would I? Everyone suffers from that malady.”

  “I don’t. You wouldn’t either if you ate slowly and ate the right foods. I think Martha is right and you do need a keeper.”

  His eyebrows rose then he grinned mischievously. “Yeah? You applying for the job?”

  The heat of a blush started at her neck and spread across her face. “I didn’t say that. I just repeated what Martha said.” She wished she hadn’t mentioned Martha’s remarks. “Are you ready for your serving of peach cobbler?”

  He stretched his arms over his head before lowering them to the desk. “The day will never come that I turn down Lonnie’s peach cobbler.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” She handed him the saucer containing dessert. “I really shouldn’t, but I can’t resist.” She served herself a portion.

  When they’d finished eating, there was food left for Grant’s evening snack and breakfast.

  “Now that I’m helping a bit, surely you won’t have to work all night any longer.”

  “You’re right, but I’m still a little wobbly. I’ll stay here tonight rather than walk home. I’m sure by morning I’ll be good as new except for this bum arm. At least it’s my left arm and shoulder and I’m right-handed.”

  “Thank you for protecting me. If you hadn’t, I’d have been hit on the face and chest and would have sustained serious injuries.”

  He cupped her chin. “I’m glad nothing bad happened to that beautiful face. If it had, I’d still feel the same way about you, but I don’t want you to be in pain. That head wound is frightening enough.” He brushed his mouth across hers.

  She licked her lips. “Mmm, you taste like cobbler.”

  “Then you should have another nibble.” This time his kiss grew deeper and more fervent.

  Lorraine forgot they were in plain view of any passerby. Careful not to press on his injured side, she wound her arms around Grant’s neck. He gently pulled her closer.

  The door opened and Adam strode in, eyes sparkling with mischief. “You two do know this is supposed to be a respectable place of business, don’t you?”

  Grant kept his arm around her but he grinned. “Hey, are you arresting us?”

  The sheriff leaned his elbows on the counter and propped his head on his hand. “Might have to. Public display and all. I wouldn’t want the citizens to accuse me of falling down on my job.”

  Grant shook his head. “This is a newspaper office. You have anything worthwhile to report?”

  Adam held up his hands as if holding a newspaper. “You mean other than ‘Couple Caught Kissing in Gazette Office’? Yeah, all three funerals will be Thursday morning unless there’s more rain. Some of us thought we should bury Molly before Vadim’s fiancée arrives that afternoon.”

  Lorraine smiled at the sheriff. “That’s considerate. Attending the funeral of the woman whose home she’ll live in might make her feel odd, especially when she first arrives.”

  “Her name’s Natka. Spelled N-A-T-K-A but he pronounces the name as if the T was a D. I won’t even try to pronounce her last name.”

  Grant stood and walked to the counter. “Doesn’t matter, she’ll soon be Mrs. Kozlov.”

  Lorraine followed. “I’ll find out about her while she’s at Lydia’s and you can use the details plus the wedding in a story for next week.”

  Adam met her gaze. “Sounds as if you’re really getting into this small town newspaper reporting.”

  Raising her chin, she said, “Haven’t you noticed that I’m the associate editor? In fact, I wrote the story about the tornado.”

  Grant sent her a fond glance. “Did a great job. Might have her sign the article.”

  Adam straightened. “Oh, which name?”

  Lorraine shook her head but apparently Adam didn’t catch on.

  Grant tilted his head. “What do you mean, which name? Lorraine Stuart, of course. What else would it be?”

  “You might try L. S. Trueharte. You know, like her stories in Frank Leslie’s Magazine? You said that’s your favorite writer, so I figured you’d be excited to have her on your staff.”

  Grant’s face turned red and he stared at her. “You? I knew that story reminded me of something. The style is the same.”

  Adam backed away. “Uh-oh. Looks like I put my foot in my mouth. I think I’d better let you two talk this over.” He was out the door in a flash.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Pain and anger mixed in his beautiful brown eyes. “I can’t believe it’s true. How could you deceive me like this?”

  Lorraine had feared something like this would happen. If only she’d made time to tell him before now.

  “I tried to tell you.”

  His expression was grim. “Oh, yeah? When?”

  “When we were under your desk. Remember, I said I needed to tell you something?”

  “And I was stupid enough to tell you I love you.”

  She fisted her hands at her waist. “And, you’d better have meant it, Grant Pettigrew, because I meant I love you. My having a pseudonym shouldn’t make a difference in your feelings.”

  He tried to cross his arms but his sling hampered him. “You should have told me.”

  “And would you have believed me? No, you would have accused me of lying to try to get a job on your precious newspaper.”

  “You should have tried, Lorraine. I—”

  She was not taking the blame for his prejudices. “When we met and you asked me what I did before coming here, I told you I worked as a librarian and wrote stories. You dismissed my writing as if I’d said I tie ribbons in my hair.”

  “I caught the librarian part but the writing didn’t register.”

  “Ha! You were as dismissive every time I mentioned writing. ‘Women can’t write because they use too many adjectives’.
Or, ‘women can report on gardening and cooking but not real news’. Don’t even try to deny you said that.”

  He hung his head. “I guess I can’t.” He met her gaze. “Still, how do you think it made me feel to learn from someone else that you’re a famous writer? I confessed I love you and you wouldn’t share that detail with me?”

  All the steam left her. “I was going to. I wanted you to know. You have no idea how wonderful it was to hear you say you loved my stories. Hearing your low opinion of women writers kept me from telling you. I wasn’t sure you’d believe me.”

  He stared at her as if deciding whether or not to fire her or simply toss her into the muddy street.

  She took a deep breath. “What are you going to do about me? Am I fired?”

  He shook his head. “The only thing I know to do is marry you and make this a family enterprise.”

  “I-Is that a proposal?”

  He clasped her hand to his heart. “Sweetheart, I’m too banged up to get on one knee but please believe in the depth of my love. Lorraine Stuart and L. S. Trueharte, will you marry me?”

  She threw her arms around him. “You know I will.”

  After several moments of heated kisses, he pulled away enough to look into her eyes. “So, what name do you want on your signature?”

  “Lorraine Pettigrew is the only name that matters.”

  Epilogue

  The church was filled. Lorraine clutched the bouquet Lydia handed her and fought to keep her knees from giving way. If only her mother could be here today to see her wed. She’d written her, though, and knew her mother was thinking of her right now. Mother had even pledged to visit her soon.

  Dressed in her dark green dress of gros grain trimmed in satin, Lorraine hoped Grant would be impressed with her appearance. A simple strand of pearls and matching earrings were her only jewelry. Cassandra had styled Lorraine’s hair in a more becoming fashion than it had ever been. Lorraine hoped she could recreate the look in the future.