“Thank you,” she said, not quite smiling. “I’m sorry if I came off rudely Mr. Smitz. I just couldn’t stand by and let it go. I should also tell you that I took that little boy home, saw that he cleaned up, and escorted him to school. I’ve also hired his mother for the remainder of the school year so that Billy can attend class as a boy his age should.”
“I agree,” Jameson said, admiring the young lady’s spunk. She wasn’t one to just let things slide because it wasn’t exactly her place to speak of them. She was a go-getter and would make someone a very active and interesting wife when she was old enough to marry. “I promise Miss Lowell that this matter will be handled immediately. And to go a step further, I will keep in touch with you about the matter if you’re agreeable to that?”
“I’d greatly appreciate that, Mr. Jameson.”
“Excellent,” he smiled. He extended his hand and shook hers lightly. “I suppose I’ll see you at the gala at Stanford on Saturday night?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll look forward to it,” he said, adding a wink. “For now, I must ask you to excuse me. I have business to attend to, including a reprimand for my employees.”
“Yes, please. Ado, Mr. Jameson.”
Chapter Two: Heading Home
Constance didn’t know exactly how she should feel as the train pulled away from the station. She’d had a wonderful time in California. Visiting Stanford and seeing prominent places, meeting important people. She’d changed two lives while she was there. Little Billy Porter was able to stay in school until summer and his mother, Agnes, had risen to the opportunity she’d been offered. As a parting gift, Constance had asked her father for an advance on her allowance and sent a gift basket to the impoverished woman. Inside she’d tucked nearly five hundred dollars, enough for a year’s income. Hopefully it’d give her enough time to find a decent job. Constance had also written her an exemplary performance review, praising her work ethic and skills.
Her heart, however, was torn in two. She’d indeed seen Jameson Smitz at the Stanford gala that had been put on to raise money for the Leland Stanford, Jr. Museum. Jane Stanford was the main speaker of course, telling of the heartbreak of losing her only son.
“He was the light of my life,” she’d said, “Without him I am only existing.
“Opening this museum will be like bringing my son back to me and will give the public a glimpse of his brightness and the treasures from far off places.”
Still, if Constance was to choose a moment that changed her entire outlook on where her life was headed, it was confronting Jameson Smitz about little Billy Porter. Being an outspoken woman, she was used to seeing a plethora of people at speeches, women suffrage parades and the like. Even then she’d never seen a man as handsome as Jameson. His thick brown hair was as unruly as a child’s sticking out everywhere when the breeze blew so that he had to run a hand through it to keep it out of his eyes.
His face was young, despite the two-day beard he’d sported and his smile had been warm and welcoming. But if she were asked and forced to be honest, she’d have said it was the allure of his beautiful sky blue eyes that had truly pulled her in.
“What did you think, Pumpkin?”
“Excuse me?” Constance said, blushing a little when she realized her father had been addressing her and she’d neglected to listen. “I’m sorry, father. What did you ask?”
“I mentioned to mother that Jameson Smitz seemed to be an honorable and trustworthy young man, certainly worthy of consideration as a board member.”
“You’re going to resign as a board member of the university?”
“Your mother and I would like to travel during our golden years. You yourself will be off to school and there’s no sense of us waiting around for you to graduate and settle into a career or motherhood.”
“Oh,” Constance said, wondering which she’d choose when the time came. “Well, I suppose that’s the practical solution then.”
The train pulled into New York two weeks later and all too soon, Constance was back into the routine of school, friends, socials, and celebrating the Women’s Suffrage movement. Two weeks later her first correspondence from Jameson arrived and her hands shook just trying to open the letter.
August 1885
Dear Miss Lowell,
I hope this letter finds you well and happy. I must say that your forthrightness is not something we encounter all that often here in California. I suppose as the ratio of men to women is still largely off balance that perhaps I just don’t get out enough.
It was an immense pleasure to see you at the gala. I don’t believe I told you so, but you looked radiant in your gown, truly a lady if I’ve ever seen one. Are you attending school this year? You must be near graduating for your speech and mannerisms were as polished as I’ve seen this side of the Mississippi.
You’ll be happy to know that I fired my hiring manager and hired my sister-in-law to take over. She dearly loves children and holds many of your same convictions. She too, raked me over the coals when news of Billy Parker’s plight made it to her ears. After telling her of our encounter she smiled. She says to tell you, “Well done.”
Here’s to a great semester for you and staying afloat for me!
With much affection,
Jameson Smitz
Constance didn’t quite know how to process what he’d written. There was so much going on in her head and heart. He’s signed the note with much affection, but did that mean he simply cared or that he cared for her in a way that was more than mere friendship. Biting her lip, she couldn’t help but wonder.
After dinner that night she curled up on her bed and grabbed a pen and the stationary she’d bought while in California. It showed a pretty lighthouse landscape on sand colored paper.
August 1885
Dear Jameson,
I am both well and happy, thank you. I must apologize again if I came off a bit strong. My parents raised me to be forthright and honest with my opinion, especially in matters of injustice. I do realize, however, that it can be a bit brusque.
Thank you for the compliment on my dress. I saved my allowance and made it myself! Whether or not I’m a lady is certainly yet to be seen. I, on the other hand, have no doubts that your business will only continue to flourish as you are an honorable leader.
I am back in school, full-time. Thankfully this is my last semester and then I’ll be off to college. I can scarcely believe I’m old enough for that experience. Did you enjoy Stanford during your time there?
With equal caring,
Constance Lynette Lowell
She tucked the letter into the envelope, addressed it, placed a stamp on it, and set it on her end table to mail the next morning.
By the time Constance got another reply from Jameson her last semester of remedial school was over and she was celebrating the Christmas and New Year holidays with her family.
“You received this in the mail today,” Rachel Lowell said, grinning when Constance took the letter. She excused herself to her room and tore the letter open.
December 1885
Dear Constance,
Somedays I still can’t believe it’s been five months since I’ve seen you. There are times, little memories that I’d love to share with you, until I remember that there’s an entire country between us. I miss hearing your voice, even when you were railing at me.
How is school? Don’t worry if you’re scared that firs semester of college. I was terrified my first semester out. Then things settled down and I was able to truly enjoy my time at Stanford. I never thought about suggesting you apply here, although I’m not sure Mrs. Stanford is accepting female students just yet. Progress is much slower here than on the east coast.
I pray that you and your family celebrate a safe and happy Christmas and New Year. Welcome to 1886!
With growing affection,
Jameson Mackey Smitz
***
The new year started off with a bang of bad news. Jameson
wrote in his only letter to Constance that his father had taken ill and passed away shortly thereafter. Adding the weight of caring for his aging mother he realized that he had little to offer a new college freshman besides working late into the evening and living a whole country from her family.
With a sigh of regret in his heart, Jameson toned down his letters and sent them sporadically, hoping to quell any growing affection Constance may have felt for him.
April 1886
Dear Constance,
I must admit that the start of this year has been the roughest and most emotional New Year to date for me. My father took ill and was unable to recover. We buried him last week. I’m afraid that I may have inadvertently led you to believe that there was a relationship of some permanency between us and for that I am truly and terribly sorry.
It is not that I do not care for you, but that at this present moment I have little to offer you that would satisfy a heart so young and full of life.
I hope that Yale turns out to be the education you dreamed of. For now, Miss Lowell I must bid you, Ado.
Your friend,
Jameson Smitz
He mailed the letter before he lost the nerve and sighed a heavy breath before turning to head home.
The rest of the year passed in a blur as Jameson worked hard to keep his ailing mother comfortable and the Bethel Clothing Company from going under. When a federal grant came through, it bolstered the company’s finances so much that Jameson was able to re-hire his sister-in-law. However, because she was with child, he offered the job to Mrs. Porter instead, feeling well and good about his decision.
He couldn’t help but think of Constance when Rebekah Porter came to work for him. Constance had seen in the woman a great work ethic and a strong love for her son that was hindered only by her inability to provide for them without her son’s income. Even if he never spoke to or heard from Constance Lowell again, he knew she had changed lives in her short time in California. Not just Billy’s or Rebekah’s. She’d changed his as well, with her sassy attitude and take-no-prisoners approach to speaking her mind. With a grin he wondered how her teachers were liking her quick and lethally accurate viewpoints.
Still, life had to move on and move on it did. By December of 1886, Clarice Smitz was on her deathbed, her body ravaged by Cholera. She passed the day after Christmas and was buried two weeks later next to her husband. After his mother’s passing, Jameson became the full time heir and responsible owner of the Bethel Clothing Company. That responsibility, when handled alone sat so heavily on Jameson that his heart began to ache for something much different.
As a child he’d always loved horses. Their often gentle spirits and quick minds. The way they could learn a rider’s wishes without anything more to aid them than time. He’d learned some over the years as well, having his own horse. He knew he could learn to turn his love of horses into a prosperous business if he could find the time to devote to it.
“Mr. Smitz, there’s a man here to see you. He says his name is Henry David Lee and he’d like to speak to you privately.”
“Show him in, Rebekah. Thank you.”
“Yes, sir,” the petite woman answered.
“Hello,” a boisterous and jovial man said as he entered Jameson’s office with his hand outstretched. “Henry David Lee and it’s wonderful to meet you, sir.”
“Likewise,” Jameson said, shaking the man’s hand and sitting on the edge of his desk as the stranger sat down in a leather lined chair in front of it. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
“Have you ever heard of Levi Strauss Jeans, Mr. Smitz?” the man asked after glancing at the placard that announced Jameson’s last name in bold, gold inflected letters.
“I believe so, yes.”
“Well, we are in the need of some serious factory space, as we’re launching a new line of jeans. When I saw your factory I could have wept at the space you have. How many acres do you own, if you don’t mind my asking, of course?”
“Not at all,” James smirked. Mr. Lee certainly knew how to butter someone up before going in for the clincher. “With the factory included we own fifteen thousand acres of property along the Delta River.”
“Well, to get right to the point, sir,” Henry said, folding and unfolding his hat in his hands as a nervous tick. “Levi and I would greatly love to purchase your acreage and the factory as one unit.”
Jameson just sat there for a minute, studying the man. He was tall, with his dark hair just starting to go gray at the temples. His full beard sprinkled with white that stood out against the dark brown, but not in an unseemly way.
“Well Mr. Lee, that’s certainly an offer to think about. May I ask what you plan to do with the land and factory?”
“We would of course, upgrade the factory to meet the manufacturing specifications of the Levi Strauss line. The land would go to creating other processing buildings, shipping being included.”
“Do I have time to consider your offer?”
“You do,” Henry said, with a friendly smile. “We will need to know by Monday next, however.”
Thinking ahead, Jameson knew he’d have the weekend to think over his decision. But who would he discuss the decision with? His parents were dead, unable to give him counsel. His mind instantly thought of Constance, but he shoved the thought away, irritated that she would interrupt his thoughts so easily. However, talking things through with her father would be a plausible option.
Within an hour of leaving the office, Jameson had sent a wire to the Lowell residence. An hour later he got a response back in kind.
Chapter Three: Changes
“Who was the telegram from?” Constance asked her father over dinner.
“Our friend in California, Jameson Smitz.” Hearing his name brought a pang to her heart, she tried hard to swallow. She’d worked hard over the year to put Jameson out of her mind. She’d immersed herself in her studies, pouring through books upon books and garnering the highest rank in her class, all in an effort to forget a man who’d completely affected her life.
“Oh,” she said, not realizing that both of her parents were eyeing her suspiciously. “Did he happen to say anything pertinent?”
Grinning at his oldest daughter, Richard continued. “Apparently Jameson has been offered an impressive payout, should he decide to sell his company.”
“He’s selling his company?” Constance asked, intrigued.
“Levi Strauss and Henry David Lee have offered to buy the factory and the surrounding acreage for a very nice three hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
Constance couldn’t imagine that sort of money. She knew her parents were well off, but he had no idea if even they had that much money. She ate quickly and asked to be excused. Just before bed she heard a knock on her door. “Come in,” she called.
“I came to say goodnight and ask if you’d like to talk about it.” Rachel Lowell said, sitting on the edge of her daughter’s bed.
“About what?” Constance asked, not quite meeting her mother’s eyes.
“About your feelings for Jameson Smitz,” Rachel smiled, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.
“I don’t know how I feel about it, not anymore.”
“Well how did you feel about him?”
“I care for him, certainly,” Constance said, already feeling flustered. “I thought he cared for me as well, but over the last year I’m not so sure. He says he has nothing to offer me and that he hopes school is everything I imagined it to be. Why are men so confusing?”
“It’s just in their nature honey,” Rachel laughed. “Believe me, they find us just as disconcerting.”
“Well it’s their fault,” she pouted. Still, she prayed that night for God’s guidance in Jameson’s life and his big decision to make.
A week later they heard back from him.
Thank you for the counsel stop It was infallible stop I am now the proud owner of an impressive horse ranch in San Jacinto stop Would love for you all to see it sto
p Write soon stop.
“He bought a horse ranch with a company to run?”
“He sold the company, sweetheart,” Robert smiled. “He wrote awhile back to say that he had always wanted to own and run a horse ranch. The only thing that had held him back was being restrained in his time with the company. I advised him to follow his heart and be frugal with the payout. He bought the horse ranch, as is. Because of this, he was able to invest heavily in horses, their tack, and their accommodations.”
“Wow,” Constance said. Her heart constricting even more. “I didn’t realize he liked horses so much.”
“I’m sure back then your conversations were more formal,” Robert grinned.
A week later, Constance received a letter from Jameson that made her hands shake as she read it.
January 1887
My Dearest Constance,
I’m sorry if my distance has hurt you. My intentions were always to keep you from being hurt, only to realize that I was probably harming you most of all. I don’t know if you’ll be happy to read this or not, but I can’t seem to escape you. You plague my thoughts, turning up at all hours, in all situations.
I should tell you that I’ve previously corresponded with your father and have been for some time. I’ve come to think of him as a quiet and wise friend. There’s so much I want to share with you. I’d love to show you San Jacinto, my home, the horses. I know you’d love them from the start.
I know that you need to finish school and that it will often seem like the hardest thing to do to get there, but I wanted you to know my heart and where I stand when it comes to you. While I tried to convince myself that I had nothing to offer, that I couldn’t give you a good life; I’ve since realized that that was just me being a coward.
I love you Constance Lynette Lowell. In time I’d love nothing more than to have the honor of making you Mrs. Constance Lynette Smitz. I don’t really know what to say other than that, except that I can’t wait for the summer so I can show you around.
Yours always,
Jameson Robert Smitz
[2016] A Bride's Journey Page 22
