“Yes, ma’am. I swear it was. The last thing I want is to have her angry at me.”
Belle was already upstairs, so Adam and Cecilia were the only people in the room. “May I ask you a frank question?” Mrs. Best asked him.
Her tone made Adam a bit wary, but he nodded. “Yes.”
“Do you have feelings for my daughter?”
Adam very much wanted to duck the question, but he knew better than to try and pull the wool over the eyes of a woman everyone knew could see through walls, so he confessed truthfully, “Yes. I believe I do.”
“Does Jo return your feelings?”
He shrugged. “Not really. We talked about it briefly, but I wound up mucking things up.”
“Josephine is a very headstrong and determined young woman.”
“I know.”
Mrs. Best studied him for a few moments before saying, “Truthfully, if you and Jo were to iron out your differences and declare for each other, I’d be as happy as I was when Dani and Belle fell in love. It would please me no end to have you for a son-in-law. However, your reputation with the young women is well known, Adam, so I’m warning you right now, if you break my daughter’s heart, I will roast you like a piece of pork. Do you understand me?”
Adam didn’t hesitate. “Yes, ma’am. That was one of the reasons Jo and I decided to just be friends for now. I’m not certain I’m ready to settle down.”
“I appreciate your honesty.”
“Well, Jo didn’t.” Adam scowled.
“If you aren’t sure about how you feel about her, Adam, you have no reason to scowl when she is with someone else.”
“I know, but—Oh, I don’t know, Mrs. B.”
She nodded understandingly. “Give it time, Adam. Even if you and Josephine decide to remain just friends, you will always be welcomed here as long as you don’t break her heart.”
“May I have George kidnapped and sent to Siam?”
She chuckled. “No, you may not. I won’t be interfering in my daughter’s life and neither will you.”
Adam shrugged. “It was worth a try.”
Cecilia’s smile broadened. “If I were you, I’d be trying to come up with a way to get back into Jo’s good graces. You stepped into quite a bog calling her Pest.”
“Don’t remind me.” Adam could only speculate how long it would be before Jo smiled his way again. “Any suggestions?”
“Nope. As I said, I’m not meddling, nor will I be promoting one suitor over another. Now, if George turns out to be someone other than the man he’s presented himself as being, that changes things, but unless that happens, I’m content to sit back and watch.”
“Thanks,” Adam said glumly.
Amused, she told him, “You’re welcome.” She resumed her letters.
Adam resumed his brooding.
In the days following George’s visit, Jo and Adam saw very little of each other. She spent most of her time doing heads at her shop. It seemed every woman in town planned to attend the social at Mrs. Oswald’s on Saturday, and because everyone wished to look their best, Jo and her irons worked from sunup to sundown.
Adam spent his time recovering in his room. Bea Meldrum stopped by and removed the herbs from his ankle. The paste had worked remarkably well. The skin had begun knitting itself back together and the pain and swelling were no longer an issue. Bea was so pleased by his progress she gave Adam her permission to graduate from his crutches to a walking stick. Adam responded with a grateful “Hallelujah!”
On Thursday evening, a knock sounded on Jo’s closed bedroom door. “Come in,” she called back. She was in the process of going through her wardrobe in search of something to wear to the social that George hadn’t already seen her wear. The visitor turned out to be her mother.
She asked Jo, “What are you doing, dear?”
“I’m trying to find a gown that everyone in town hasn’t already seen me in two dozen times.” Jo had been given permission to attend the social with George. He’d sent a note around to let her know what time to be ready. Belle would be going with them, as well, but Jo didn’t mind having her sister-in-law tag along.
Cecilia took a seat on the end of the bed. “The war will be over soon, and once it’s done I’ll have Belle treat you to a new gown or two.”
“That would be wonderful. I can’t wait to finally say goodbye to the Free Produce tenets.” None of the Best women had had new gowns in years. “In the meantime, I guess I’ll have to make do with this old green one.”
“It’s still in good shape, Jo. No one else will be sporting anything new, either.”
Her mother was right, of course. Most of the families in town adhered to the Free Produce edicts. Still, Jo dearly wished the war would end, not only for the freedom it would bring to the three and a half million enslaved souls in the South, but for the freedom from worry it would bring to all who had soldiers in the South. She thought about her father and brother but didn’t mention them in an effort not to make her mother sad.
After resigning herself to the fact that the green gown would have to do, Jo took a seat on the bed and said to her mother, “May I talk to you about something?”
“Sure.”
Jo took a moment to think over what she wanted to say, then began, “George doesn’t think a woman should own a business after she has babies.”
Mrs. Best studied her. “Why not?”
“He says a woman should devote herself to her family, and be guided by her husband.”
“Having babies doesn’t make a woman feeble-minded, Josephine.”
“I know, Mama. I tried to explain that to him, but his thinking seems set on the matter.” Jo looked over at her mother to gauge how she might be taking the conversation. Jo didn’t put it past her mother to forbid her daughter from ever seeing the wrong-thinking George Brooks again.
Cecilia asked instead, “So, what do you want to discuss?”
“Do you think he’ll change, is what I’m asking, I guess.”
“A better question is, do you think he will change?” her mother replied. “You’ve always been a good judge of character, dear, but I believe all men can be put into two categories. There are the intelligent ones who have no quarrel with the free-thinking and free-acting women like the ones you’ve been raised around. Then there are the ones who will go to their grave still believing they’ve a God-given right to lord it over the so-called weaker sex.”
“Do you put George in that second category?”
“I have no way of knowing where George fits. That’s why men and women court, so you can have these thorny questions answered before you decide to embark on a life together.”
Jo understood. “Well, I like him very much, I think, but—”
“You have your doubts?”
“I do, but I’m hoping he might be one of the intelligent ones, Mama. Maybe being around you, me and Belle will change his views.”
“You may be right.” Mrs. Best smiled at her daughter. “If anyone can change his mind, you can, dear.”
“I hope so. Oh, and thanks for letting me go to the social with him.”
“I trust you two will behave yourselves.”
“You won’t have to worry. With half the town in attendance, I’m certainly not going to do something that will probably get back to you before I even get home.”
Mrs. Best chuckled. “You always were a smart girl.”
“I wonder if Trudy will be there,” Jo mused aloud.
Her mother shrugged. “No one has seen her mother.”
“I haven’t seen Trudy, either. Maybe I’ll drive over there after work tomorrow. It has been nearly a week since they were robbed, so maybe Trudy’s off punishment.”
“Well, go by and see. I hope everything is all right over there.”
“Me, too.”
Cecilia got up and walked to the door. “I’m going to bed now, dear. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Good night, Mama. Thanks for listening.”
“You
’re welcome. Oh, have you and Adam made up?”
“I haven’t seen him. I’ve been too busy.”
“You’ve been too busy being mad, isn’t that what you mean?”
Sometimes, Jo hated having a mother who was so wise. She sighed. “He thinks I’m still twelve, Mama.”
“Then stop acting as if you are.”
Jo came to her own defense. “What do you mean?”
“A mature young woman accepts a sincere apology. She does not walk around the house holding her breath like a six-year-old. It’s neither Christian nor becoming, Josephine.”
Jo listened, but she didn’t want to, mainly because she knew her mother was right. Again. “I’ll talk to him.”
“Good. We’re supposed to be fighting the Rebs, not each other.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Mrs. Best smiled her love. “Get some sleep, sweetheart.”
Jo nodded.
Her mother slipped out and closed the door softly.
Alone now, Jo supposed she had been acting like a child. She’d been purposefully avoiding Adam simply because he’d accidentally called her a name she’d grown up under. In hindsight, she admitted that he had used the nickname affectionately, as always, but she certainly hadn’t responded in kind. She initially chalked up her tantrum to George’s presence; no woman wants a suitor to know she once answered to the name Pest! Now, however, she wasn’t sure what had triggered her reaction. Being angry at him certainly kept her other feelings for him buried and at bay. Maybe staying mad would be a perfect cure-all; not that her mama would allow it. The soft-spoken lecture her mother had just issued might have been a gentle one, but the meaning was clear. Cecilia Best expected Jo to make up with Adam, and soon.
Deciding she’d best get it over with, Jo left her room and knocked upon Adam’s partially opened door. “May I come in?”
He set aside his book. “Sure.”
“I…just stopped by to say hello.”
“Hello,” he said to her. Out of all the young women he’d met, he wondered why this one would affect him so. Just the sight of her made his insides grin. “I haven’t seen you in a few days. All the ladies must be after you to get them gussied up for the social.”
“Yes, I have been swamped, but…I’ve been mad at you, as well.”
“I know.”
“I’ve come to apologize for not accepting your apology in the spirit in which it was given. Mama says I’ve been acting like a six-year-old holding her breath.”
“There’s no way you’re going to get me to even discuss that, let alone agree with your mother.”
Jo smiled.
“But I accept your apology, and once again, I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.” Jo could feel herself getting all confused inside again, a common affliction when she was around him. “Well, I’m going to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Good night, Jo.”
“Good night, Adam.”
As darkness fell, Adam and Jo crawled into their separate beds and they both slept soundlessly for the first time in many days.
twelve
It was just past dawn when Jo quietly slipped out of the house and headed off to work. The air was fresh, the birds were singing and the sun was bright orange in the light gray sky. As a child, Jo had detested rising early. Had her mama allowed it, Jo would have slept in every day until noon. Older now, she’d begun to appreciate the peaceful serenity of a beautiful morning.
The sight of Bert Waterman sitting on the ground in front of the door of her shop brought her up short, though.
Bert nodded tersely. “Mornin’, Jo.”
Jo approached slowly. “Mornin’, Bert.” She wondered how long he’d been waiting and why he’d come.
“I need to talk with you, if I might.”
“Certainly.” Jo fit the key into the lock. “You want to come inside?”
“No. Having one compromised girl in town is enough. How about we talk out here?”
It pleased her to know he still had his dry sense of humor. “All right.” She smoothed her skirts beneath her, then sat on the ground in front of him.
“Do you think she still loves me?”
Jo didn’t have to ask to whom he was referring. “I do,” Jo confessed because deep down in her heart she knew it to be true. Trudy loved Bert; always had, always would.
“Why would she do such a thing?”
Jo shrugged, then said softly, “I don’t know. Sometimes people don’t think, and this seems to be one of those times.”
“But we were engaged to be married,” he pointed out emotionally.
“I know.”
He stayed quiet for a few moments. The soft singing of the birds was the only sound. “I doubt I’ll ever love anyone as much.”
That gave Jo hope. “Have you talked with her?”
“No.”
“Do you plan to?”
“I don’t know. One minute I want to ride over and tell her I forgive her, but the next minute I want to leave town and never see her again.”
He met Jo’s eyes. “And I know you’ve heard all the gossip.”
She had.
“I’m a laughingstock, Jo. If folks aren’t laughing, they’re looking at me with pity.”
Jo reached out and put a hand on his arm. “Maybe you and Trudy need to talk this out. I’m sure she’s as miserable as you seem to be.”
“I’m not miserable. I’m angry, dammit! Sorry.”
Jo smiled softly. She’d never seen Bert riled up.
He told Jo tightly, “I know I’m not the handsomest man around. I know that I’m not terribly exciting or glib, but Trudy knew that when I gave her my heart. She’s always looking to get swept off her feet by some mythical daredevil, and I was willing to put up with it because that’s Trudy—it’s how she is. But for her to actually act on something as hare-brained as this? She could have been hurt, Jo. Very badly.”
“I know, Bert.”
“But does she know? Should I go out and slay a bunch of bears to make her believe I’m exciting enough to be her husband? Do I have to go and find Dred Reed myself to prove to her and the town that I don’t have oatmeal for a spine?”
Jo didn’t like the sound of that. “Now, Bert. I—”
“My mother is already planning who I’m going to marry next. Can you believe that?” He rubbed his hands over his short hair. “Lord, I should have gone to the war. Fighting Rebs has to be easier than this.”
Jo’s heart went out to him. “So what are you going to do?”
“I’ve been asking myself the same question for the past few days, and I’ve decided to do two things. First, I’m going to move out of my mother’s house. I love her very much, but I can’t stomach it one more hour.”
Jo fought to keep the smile from showing on her face. “And the second? You’re going to talk with Trudy?”
“No, I’m going to find Dred Reed.”
Her eyes widened with alarm. “You can’t be serious.”
He stood. “I’ve been tied to my mother’s apron strings all of my life. I’m twenty-one years old—it’s time I started walking on my own. Part of being a man is protecting the ones you love.”
Jo scrambled to her feet. “But, Bert—”
“Look, Jo. The sheriff has men watching the train stations, and so far Reed hasn’t shown himself, nor has he been spotted on any of the main roads. The sheriff is pretty certain Reed’s still in the area.”
Jo didn’t like the idea of this at all. “Cutting your mama’s apron strings and confronting a criminal are two different things, Bert Waterman.”
“I know, but Trudy is my intended and it’s my job to protect her, especially with her father away fighting.”
“You should let the sheriff handle this.”
“No. It’s my responsibility.”
“That doesn’t make sense, Bert.”
“Do you think your father and brother would stand around if Dred had done to you what he did to Trudy?”
“Well, neither will I.”
Jo could not believe this. “You are not to go after Dred Reed.”
“I’m going, Jo, and I’m going to find him and bring him back to face the law, and when I do, you tell Trudy I expect her to have on her wedding dress. We’re getting married and I’m having no more of her foolishness.”
That said, he mounted his horse and rode away. Jo was so astonished she couldn’t move.
Jo worried about Bert for the remainder of the day. What if he really did stumble across Dred? Jo applauded Bert for wanting to free himself from his mother’s yoke, but this mess with Trudy was having repercussions no one had foreseen. Jo had known Bert her whole life and she could never remember him being this upset. She knew that people could be changed by events in their lives, but she never imagined it would happen to someone like Bert. Bert seemed to have been transformed by the firestorm surrounding Trudy’s actions, and in place of the agreeable, boring old Bert stood a confident and assertive Bertram Waterman. She saw this new version giving Trudy fits. She smiled to herself at the idea of Trudy being given a run for her money, but Jo’s amusement was tempered by her worries over Bert’s safety. Jo had to talk with Trudy as soon as possible—maybe she could make him see reason—but Jo had so many customers, it was impossible for her to get away until the last head was done.
And that last head belonged to Mrs. Corinne Waterman. Accompanying her was a tall and beautiful dark-skinned young woman Jo had never met.
Mrs. Waterman made the introductions. “Josephine Best, this is my niece, Libby Spenser. Libby, Josephine.”
Libby looked to be about Jo’s age.
Mrs. Waterman continued, “Libby will be staying with us for several weeks. Her parents thought she might find the country air pleasing.”
“Welcome to Whittaker, Libby,” Jo said genuinely. “And country air is about all we have around here, so be warned.”
Libby looked amused. “Thanks. I’m from Chicago. A place this small will take some getting accustomed to.”
“Well, if you need any help adjusting just let me know.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
Josephine Page 12
