Gwen could hardly imagine that the place hadn’t been spruced up in three generations. Stirred up dust from the dirt floors spread layers of particles on the few pieces of furniture populating the main room. A bug that had no name in her vocabulary, crawled up the thin wall, and she cringed. She sat next to Daniel, took a deep breath, and prayed for something positive to say. She blurted out the first thing that crossed her mind and view.
“Did you do that cross-stitch hanging on the wall?”
“My ma did. I ain’t no good with a needle, not for the fancy stuff. Story goes that she saw that little white church when she went to town one day with her mistress. Thought she’d died and gone to heaven, it was so purty. Just had to put it on her wall to keep the memory alive.”
“Do you attend church in town, now?”
“When I have the time off. The McAlisters change their duds more often than I can count.” She looked at Daniel. “Sorry if that offends you sir.”
“Not at all. What’s your name?”
“Mable. Don’t rightly know my last one.”
Gwen interrupted. “You don’t know your last name?” She felt impressed to state the obvious common link between the two people sitting with her. “Mr. McAlister did not know his last name for over two years after his war-time injury.”
“But he knows it now,” Mable said as if his plight didn’t count.
“I know the name only, not the faces,” Daniel said. “Have I been to the row houses before?”
“Oh, yes, siree. You shot through here more often than I could count. You was pure joy to have around. Kept us all laughing with your antics. And our Arthur, well, he took right to you. Gave a body hope to see the two of you play—at least, the days you escaped the eyes of the overseer. He’d snitch on his own kind, sure as the day was long.”
“Arthur was my childhood friend?” Daniel asked. “Why has he not told me?”
The woman brought her hand to her mouth and gasped. “Oh, Master, sir. I didn’t know I was speaking out of turn. Weren’t my place to spout off my mouth. Thought Artie would have talked to you before this.”
“No need for concern, but remember, I’m not your master—Daniel is what they call me,” he said before continuing. “But something on the inside responded to the nickname you mentioned. “Did I call him Artie?”
“Yes, sir. Only the folks at the big house calls him Arthur. Suppose it sounds more respectable up there.”
Gwen spoke, hoping not to offend the woman: “I wondered if you’d like me to take on the project of upgrading your homes?”
“Fix ‘em up?” Mable asked as if it were a novel idea.
“Yes. Maybe a proper wood floor and whitewashed walls. You could use some cupboards with doors to keep the mice away from the food.”
She was surprised when Daniel joined in the scheme. “My father tells me I’m good with wood. Haven’t put it to the test, but I’d try my hand at carpentry.” His voice sounded light, devoid of the heaviness caused by his personal dilemma.
Gwen grinned in his direction and watched his face brighten. Perhaps this was a God-idea, after all, sending her to help the poor souls just starting out on the Freedom Trail while, and at the same time, teaching a self-consumed man the joy of giving. It might actually be the turn on the road to recovery for which Gwen had prayed.
Chapter 5
Gwen took extra time to prepare for lunch with the McAlisters. She changed into a clean, stylish dress, swept her blonde curls on top of her head, and pinned it with a decorative comb. She slipped on a pair of pumps and moved to the front porch to wait for Daniel. She’d already fallen in love with the plantation, and she felt confident of the plan she’d already put into place for her patient. Gwen needed to make a good impression—for to be fired on the second day would be devasting.
She heard Daniel whistling a tune and turned to watch him approach. His mood seemed improved, and she dared believe it was due to the new project they’d discussed earlier. His eagerness surprised her, given the arrogance he’d flaunted since her arrival. He’d taken the reins of the conversation and chattered all the way home about the steps necessary for getting the development underway. He’d claimed that managing and working on the run-down houses would strengthen his flabby muscles and provide activity for his mind. These had been two of the goals she’d set for his recovery, and they’d been accomplished in a single effort. It was a good start to the day.
“Hello, again, Nurse Gwen.” His eyes scanned her appearance, and a mischievous grin spread across his face. “All set to dazzle the folks, are you?”
“To dazzle was not quite my intention,” she said. “More like displaying my well-groomed, independent character.”
“You’ve managed that and more. Father will be impressed, but then, he admires most any woman in a skirt.”
“Daniel! He is your father, and he deserves respect.”
He laughed. “I suppose, in theory, he does. We shall see what mood we find him in today. One word of advice; informality won’t cut it. And just to let you know, my name is also Mr. McAlister when in the presence of the noble plantation owner.” He reached for her hand to help her down the two steps to the stone walkway. “It’s not too far to walk—I thought I’d impress you with more exercise.”
“You are going beyond my expectations today. I trust you will keep up the good work. There is color in your face, and a new sparkle lights your eye.”
“I must admit, the project has excited me.” He cast a playful grin in her direction. “And then, there is Nurse Gwen, who has proven more than I expected.”
She felt a crimson rush flood her face. He patted the hand locked in the loop of his arm. “Seems your color has improved as well.”
“Must be the Kentucky air,” she said.
“Yes. Must be. Shall we continue to the lion’s den? We daren’t be late. I’m afraid the skirt won’t triumph over a show of tardiness.”
Flowering bushes and grand oak trees grew alongside the dirt road they trekked in silence. Birds danced in the branches, and squirrels skittered across the path with boundless energy and purpose to each step. The May air smelled of fresh blossoms and new life, springing from all of God’s creation. Gwen’s spirits were high, and she hoped Daniel’s parents would see the slight change in their son. Getting started on the right foot was important.
When they’d rounded the final curve, and the homestead came into view, Gwen halted in her tracks and gasped.
“The first sighting kind of hits you that way,” Daniel said, taking a measure of delight in her reaction.
The stark white, three-story building stood in all it’s grandeur against the clear blue sky and the backdrop of both leafy and evergreen trees. Round columns reached from the covered veranda on the main floor to the last balcony on the top level. The upper floor was what attracted her the most. To live there, and view the world from those heights seemed a dream too big to grasp.
“It’s not like I haven’t seen unique constructions before,” she stammered, “but what is it that makes this place magical, like a woman’s dream of happy-ever-after?”
She felt him stiffen. “So, it appears I will be fighting off the good nurse as well as all the flighty females my father sends my way with marriage and prestige as their sole ambitions.”
She inhaled sharply. “Of course not! I was merely thinking out loud. I love the little cottage, and I have no plans to exercise my patient all the way to the altar, so get over yourself, Mr. McAlister.” She hastened toward the house. “Let’s get this over with.” The wonder of the moment had dissipated, and she felt cheated.
Daniel turned the knob and let them in. Gwen kept any astonishment she felt at the magnificence of the interior décor tightly in check and waited to be ushered into the dining room. Her main objective that day was to keep her job.
A manservant appeared, bowed slightly, and led the way to the formal dining room.
Mr. and Mrs. McAlister were standing by the window. Gwen wondered
if they’d watched her and Daniel argue while walking up to the house. She marched over, and followed Constance Harrow’s advice by gripping the outstretched hand of her employer.
“Good afternoon, Mr. McAlister.” She took in his immaculate appearance. He had obviously not deigned to lower himself to assume the position of overseer of his outside workers. Instead, he probably bellowed orders from his home office, seated behind a massive desk that made people entering his domain feel dwarfed in the great man’s presence.
Gwen chided herself. It was not her practice to evaluate someone new through the lens of another’s opinion. She’d allowed Daniel’s comments to predetermine the man’s character, and that was not the way she operated.
She offered a genuine smile to the woman of the house. “And you must be Mrs. McAlister. I want to thank you for the kind gesture of flowers in my cottage. I experienced that homey touch instantly.”
The pompous lady managed to kill that compliment. “Oh, that was likely the maid who left them. I merely gave her the note and told her to clean and stock your cupboards.” Her smile did not reach her eyes. “I have far too much to handle managing this household without worrying about the employee’s quarters.” If that didn’t put Gwen in her place, nothing would. She remained speechless.
“I am pleased you decided to join us, Daniel.” His mother’s face softened somewhat, but when her son smiled politely, she stiffened; as if suddenly correcting her moment of weakness. She pointed to the table. “The kitchen staff are ready to serve. Shall we sit?”
Trivial conversation about Gwen’s family followed, which scored her some favor because of her father’s successful business in Baltimore. She answered their questions about the Harrow School of Nursing, and all seemed to be going well through the meal and into dessert. Daniel remained quiet for the majority of the conversation, offering the occasional grunt of agreement. She wondered what had happened to his earlier enthusiasm, which seemed to have died; not only on his tongue but in the glint of his eyes. This Daniel was the same troubled man she’d met at the station the day before. It was time to get this interview over with.
“I have some plans for your son’s recovery, but I wondered about your expectations.”
“We do not discuss business over dinner, Miss Peters.”
“I’m sorry.” Daniel’s eyebrows lifted when he caught her attention. She ignored his I-told-you-so attitude and raised her fork to her lips. “The lemon cake is delicious. My compliments to your baker.”
“Oh, yes. Maggie has been with us for years and her mother before her. She was a lifesaver when she didn’t desert us for greener pastures when many of her kind did after the war. I’d be lost without her running my kitchen.”
“We pay her wages now,” Mr. McAlister said, as if that were the sole definition of freedom. “No need to put the woman on a pedestal.” He rang the bell, and the waiter appeared. “We will retire to the parlor. Please, bring fresh coffee.” He stood and the rest of the family followed suit. His attention pivoted to Gwen as he waved his arm, beckoning her toward the door. “Miss Peters, shall we tend to the business at hand?”
“Certainly,” Gwen replied, so business-like that she wanted to bite her tongue to check to see if she had been the one to say it.
The foursome moved through the open foyer, every inch of detail screaming European influence. Gwen had never been abroad, but she appreciated the atmosphere it created in the grand entryway. She walked into the parlor only to encounter a continuation of the elegance. Chandeliers hung from high ceilings, oriental rugs covered the brightly polished wooden floors, and luxurious velvet drapery hung from the tall, narrow windows. Striped upholstery covered love seats and chairs, and ornate tables with unique vases filled with fresh flowers sat atop them. The layout created multiple seating areas, that would prove beneficial when entertaining crowds.
Mrs. McAlister led the way to the impressive fireplace, and they all sat around the homiest spot in the room.
Thomas McAlister opened the conversation: “You are rather quiet today, Daniel.”
“Just letting you get acquainted with the new nurse.”
“It matters what you think. Are you still dead set against the arrangement, or have her charming ways won you over?”
Gwen bit her lip to stop from jumping into the conversation, assuming that he might think interrupting the discussion with his son offensive. She certainly had no intention of winning her patient’s confidence with charm, and she’d let him know the moment they left this uncomfortable meeting.
“The woman is charming, Father, but not in the way you imagine.”
Gwen rested easier. Given his evaluation of his father’s womanizing character, Daniel had payed her a high compliment, and she guessed they did not flow easily from the broken man.
Thomas roared with laughter, and his wife stared at the fingers fidgeting in her lap. It appeared she too had been caught off-guard by her husband’s reactions.
When the refreshments arrived, he shooed the maid away with his hand, and Mrs. McAlister busied herself with serving.
Mr. McAlister cut to the chase. “You are under the impression that I care about how you achieve the results I expect from your employment, Miss Peters.”
“We hadn’t spoken, so I supposed…”
“Never suppose with me. I am straight-forward and to the point in all my business dealings.”
Gwen was accustomed to a business-like approach, having worked in her father’s shop, but had somehow imagined that a son’s recovery might touch on something more personal.
When the air became stifled, Daniel cut in. “You are talking about my case as if it were just another account in the McAlister files. Need I remind you, Nurse Gwen’s presence was your idea, and you might do better to use some of those manners of which you boast.”
“It’s your father’s way, Daniel. I’m sure Miss Peters did not take offence to his direct approach as to the reason she is here. Is that not so, dear?” Mrs. McAlister asked, directing a superficially sympathetic glance in Gwen’s direction.
“I’ve dealt with all kinds of men professionally,” Gwen said. “You needn’t fear—I can stand up for myself, Daniel,” she said, grinning while ignoring his advice to use his surname.
“Well, then, let’s continue. And please, Father, try to act like I actually physically exist in your presence, regardless of the state of my mind.” Daniel chuckled, but it was not the cheery laugh of a carefree man. “Oh, I almost forgot: I don’t exist in your eyes, for the past means everything to you. You cling to the lost-days and refuse to consider there might be a better way to move forward.” His voice raised, and Gwen clutched the edge of her chair. Anger never solved problems, practical or emotional. Daniel blundered on, baring more of his heart to his startled father. “Do you honestly think I haven’t tried everything under the sun to regain the memories of my family and this place you call home?”
Daniel’s tone revealed a deep cynicism bordering on a lit fuse, waiting to explode. Living under such unattainable expectations was more of a problem for him than regaining his lost memories. He would never heal from his personal losses with the weight of his parents’ hopes dragging him down.
Gwen vowed never to put that pressure on him, not as long as she remained his nurse.
Daniel bounded to his feet and stared at Gwen. “Are you finished? It appears as if you have free rein with your patient. Simply get the job done and return their son, fully intact, to his rightful place in the dominion. That’s not too high of a mission for a capable young lady, such as yourself.”
“Thank you for the compliment, Mr. McAlister,” she said to Daniel as she rose to her feet. Gwen smiled politely at her host and hostess—who were, in all truth, her new employers—for it appeared there was a deep cavern between them, and that suited her just fine.
Before she could speak, a loud knock sounded at the door. When it was opened, Arthur stood there, a toddler in one hand and a small duffle bag in the other.
>
“Excuse me, sir, but I discovered this bundle of joy sitting patiently on the front steps. He had this note attached to his shirt.” Arthur glanced quickly at Daniel but said no more.
The senior Mr. McAlister, hurried to secure the note. He skimmed the message, then cast an accusing glare at his son. “So, is that what the Confederate Army paid you to do? Sleep with the enemy?”
All of the color drained from Daniel’s face. He stared at the child, then turned to his father. “I have no idea what you’re talking about?”
“The note says that this child is yours. His mother cannot care for him, and the man who is willing to take in the soiled goods, as she refers to herself, does not want her illegitimate boy.”
Daniel ran his fingers through his hair. “What is the woman’s name?”
His father’s voice seemed to explode in the room. “There were so many that you can’t remember the name of the boy’s mother?”
“I can’t remember you, old man—why would I remember a girl I had a fling with?”
Gwen noticed that fear had replaced the innocent expression on the child’s face, and he dropped Arthur’s hand and backed into the hall, unnoticed by the two arguing men. She exited the room to find Arthur in pursuit of the young legs bolting for the entryway.
Gwen called out, “Little one, please come back.”
The footsteps slowed when the child’s hand could not reach the knob on the front door, and his round, frightened eyes peered back at Gwen over the shoulder of the stuffed bear he held to his chest. She reached out to him, hoping to lure him back. “Let’s go to the kitchen. I’ll bet we can find a cookie and a glass of milk there.” The offer seemed to register, but he stayed put, his back slumped against the huge oak door. Gwen rushed over, squatted in front of the child, and wiped the tears from his face. “There, now,” she said, “don’t you worry about those men. They’ll work it out. Meanwhile, we’ll go find us a treat.”
Gwen looked at Arthur, who was standing quietly nearby. “Would you lead the way to the cookie stash, kind sir?”
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