Remember Me When: A Women of Hope Novel

by Ginny Aiken

  “Well, my dear girl,” Mrs. Alton said. “That’s all I need to know. It’s perfectly clear that anything at all could have happened. Your husband could have gone into the store side of the building, knocked over a lamp, tried to carry you out, and fallen himself. Only the dear Lord knows, and I’m not Him.” She turned to the cluster of men. “There’s nothing decent or proper about a woman in a jail. Go on—all of you. This child needs to be in bed. I suppose you can sort out all the details among yourselves in the morning, if indeed you must. Go. Go! And good night.”

  A smile curved Faith’s lips. The tension in her body began to melt away. She hoped to someday become a woman with the self-assurance Mrs. Alton displayed. She showed no uncertainty when chasing a passel of men out of her house, and they left, on her word alone.

  The reverend, if the indulgent smile on his face was anything to go by, had no objection to her directness.

  Olivia turned to Faith. “I see Mrs. Alton is taking charge of the situation, and that means you’re in excellent hands. I must return home now, since I’m certain my dear husband will be ready for me to take over our children’s nighttime routine.” A faint line appeared on her brow. “If it won’t be a bother to you, I’d love to stop by and visit with you tomorrow morning, after I walk my youngsters to school.”

  “Bother?” She shook her head. “Not at all. A visit will likely be a good distraction. I don’t care to think over and over again about…”

  “I can understand.” Olivia reached for Faith’s hand and gave it a little squeeze. “But please don’t forget that God has a way of working things out. Even the most unlikely, dreadful things are as nothing for Him. Just don’t give up hope.”

  Faith found it impossible to respond, so she nodded and blinked away the tears that threatened.

  Moments later, the front door closed behind Olivia and the men, including Nathan Bartlett, who had insisted on seeing Olivia home. It turned out that Mr. Whitman and Nathan were partners in the bank, and friends, as well. Just as he’d shown Faith a great deal of kindness and compassion, he offered his friend’s wife his protection as she returned home in the dark. Her respect for him grew.

  Theo, on the other hand, lobbed a final glare at Faith as the marshal walked him out.

  “Well, then,” Mrs. Alton said when silence reigned in the parlor. “I roasted up a nice leg of mutton on Sunday. Could I offer you a plate? Perhaps a sandwich?”

  Faith shook her head. “I don’t think I’d be able to eat.”

  Mrs. Alton tsk-tsked. “It must have been dreadful to hear Theo Nolan, of all people, say such horrid things about you. Especially since they’re none of them true.”

  “But you don’t know they aren’t.”

  “Pshaw!” The reverend’s wife gave a carefree wave. “I’m sure something happened, but I doubt you had anything to do with it. Not if you didn’t do anything to those two brutes all those years you were out on that mountain.”

  Faith stood, shaking still. She shouldn’t be surprised the Nolan brothers weren’t well liked, but she didn’t expect the reverend’s wife to be so blunt. Or to have such clear understanding of all that had gone on, all she’d thought hidden, all her shame. “I don’t know how you can say so with such conviction. Especially since I can’t be certain I didn’t have anything to do with the fire or even…” She shrugged. “The rest.”

  “See?” Mrs. Alton smiled. “You can’t even bring yourself to say it. Come on. Let’s be done with this silly conversation and get you to your new room. You need rest. I’m sure you’ll see things more clearly once you’ve slept.”

  Faith followed the plump lady toward the stairs, crossing paths in the hall with Reverend Alton as they walked out of the parlor. “Thank you ever so much, sir. I doubt I could have abided the jail cell.”

  He chuckled. “Thank Mrs. Alton, dear child. I stand aside and watch her. She is a formidable force when she gets moving.”

  “Oh, I do. I’m most grateful. To the both of you.”

  “Reverend Alton,” his wife said from the top of the stairs, a twinkle in her cocoa-colored eyes. “I do believe you have a Wednesday night sermon to write. I’ll take care of our guest.”

  As if in a daze, Faith followed Mrs. Alton up the stairs, down the corridor, and into a room on the right. “I filled the pitcher with hot water when I went to fetch that coffee for you—I wasn’t about to let you leave this house, child. I set a couple of things on the bed for you, too. If there’s anything else I can do for you, please let me know. I want you to feel at home.”

  Home. She hadn’t been home since that long-ago day she’d come into Bountiful to pick up a wagon-full of supplies her father had ordered at the mercantile in town. How she wished she could believe the sweet woman.

  As if she’d heard Faith’s sad thought, Mrs. Alton patted her arm. “All is well now. The worst is finally over.”

  Faith’s heart stuttered with a skipped beat. Hope, it seemed, hadn’t died. But although she wanted to believe her hostess was right, the last three years loomed too real.

  The day after Faith arrived at the Altons’ home, Olivia Whitman did indeed come to visit. She chattered in a lively way, discussing everything in general and nothing in particular. Faith wondered if, after Olivia left, she would be able to relate any bits or pieces of what the banker’s wife had told her. She did, however, feel a deep appreciation for Olivia’s simple offer of friendship, something Faith had long lacked, ever since her move to her husband’s home had isolated her. They laughed over tales of the Whitman children’s antics, and sympathized over the loss of Addie Tucker’s grandmother, a sweet lady Faith remembered from back when she’d been a regular part of the congregation. Then Olivia stunned Faith.

  “You do know,” she said, “that my dear Mr. Whitman and I wed for a multitude of reasons, none of which was abiding affection for each other.”

  Faith’s eyes widened. “No, I had no idea. Ever since I moved to the mountain, I’ve known little about the goings-on around town. I didn’t come in much, since I was so busy at the store, and neither Roger nor Theo was particularly sociable. I doubt either one paid much attention to what happened in Bountiful, unless it affected them. I never knew you’d married until this last Christmas, when I persuaded Roger to bring me to church for the service.”

  “Well, it’s a long story, but what I learned is God works miracles every day. You never know what day He’s going to work yours. All I can tell you is that if you close yourself to His gifts, you might miss something as marvelous as the tenderness my husband offered me a few months after our marriage began.”

  Faith caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “And yet, during all my time on the mountain, He didn’t see fit to work that miracle for me. Believe me, I prayed for one, begged Him to work His will in my dilemma. I was sure He hadn’t planned a marriage like that for my life. But, nothing. He never answered my prayer. I—I don’t know that He even heard.”

  “Of course, He did.” Olivia reached out, laid a hand on her arm. “It seems clear to me that the Father has another man in mind for you. That’s why you can’t set your mind against men. Not all of them are like—well, like Mr. Nolan.”

  Immediately, the image of the handsome logging camp owner overtook Faith’s thoughts. Olivia was right. Nathan Bartlett was nothing like Roger. He’d already proven himself a gentle, caring, respectful, and even hardworking and industrious man. She also couldn’t discount how safe she felt in his company, or how attractive she found him.

  Heat flooded her cheeks. She couldn’t think of the man in such a way. He’d never done anything to invite such thoughts.

  On the other hand, her conversation with Olivia revealed an unpleasant reality, one she’d begun to grasp since the moment Woody made it clear he knew all about Roger. It seemed everyone in town knew all there was to know about her dead husband’s worst traits. She cringed at the thought of reading pity on all those faces.

  Before shame could consume her, Olivia surprised
her with an invitation. “Please join us on Sunday after church,” she said. “The Ladies’ Bible Society is holding a box lunch auction to refill our empty coffers. Six weeks ago we shipped a crate full of Bibles to missionaries headed to China. Can you imagine? China! What an enormous mission field that is.”

  Faith sighed, fear finding fertile ground. “I hold no illusions, Olivia. I doubt anyone will want to buy a box lunch I prepare.”

  “Please, stop that kind of talk. No one will know it’s yours until well after it’s sold. Then whoever buys it will eat lunch with you, and they’ll see what a lovely woman you are. That’s the best way to counter that horrid Theo’s tales.”

  Faith shrugged. “I can see the good sense in your plan, but I’m not sure I can bring myself about to take part in the auction. Besides, I’m a new widow and in full mourning.”

  “You can still mourn Roger while you help the Bible Society.”

  “I don’t know…”

  The banker’s wife discounted Faith’s objection with a shake of the head. “There is something we haven’t talked about yet. You’re in quite a bit of a fix right now. From what you’ve told me, all your belongings went up in smoke with the general store. Do you have as much as a change of clothes? Anything at all?”

  Faith thought about Maisie, Daisy, and Lazy.

  But, no. Even though her heart saw them as hers, she didn’t have even them.

  She shook her head. “Aside from this”—she waved at her dusty, smoke scented, and wilted flannel dress—“that I was wearing when it all happened, and the calico dress and cotton petticoat Mrs. Alton found among the items her daughter left behind, I have nothing. Oh, there is the wagon…but I’m sure Theo will say it belongs to him.”

  “Well, then, we must do something to change that. A sooty dress and a summer-weight calico aren’t enough for the winter. We might even get snow soon, it’s so cold this year.” She tapped her chin with a finger as she thought things over. “I have an idea, and I think it’s a lovely one.” She turned toward the rear of the house, where their hostess had discreetly disappeared after greeting Olivia. “Mrs. Alton! Could you please join us for a moment? I’ve a question for you—and a favor to ask, as well.”

  Moments later, the reverend’s wife bustled into the parlor, wiping her damp hands on a blue-and-white ticking towel. “Have you girls—forgive me, ladies—had a nice visit?”

  Olivia smiled. “Splendid!” Then she gestured toward Faith. “But we do have a problem. She has nothing, absolutely nothing. It all went in the blaze. What do you think if we gather the women from the Bible Society and hold a dressmaking bee? It wouldn’t be too different from a quilting bee, I would think.”

  Mrs. Alton clasped her hands together, brought them up to her gray wool-upholstered, carrier-pigeon chest. “What a lovely idea! Of course, we must do something for dear Faith. She can’t possibly go on without a stitch to wear.”

  Faith stood, shaking her head. “Oh, please don’t put anyone to so much trouble. I can certainly stitch up a dress or a skirt and blouse myself. I have little else to do while I wait to see what the marshal will do next.”

  Olivia stood as well, a determined tilt to her head. “Excellent! You can sew alongside the rest of us. That’s the whole point of a bee. Everyone is busy. And that’s how we take care of things in Bountiful. When one has troubles to bear, others come alongside to take a bit of the burden off those weighed-down shoulders.”

  Faith was stunned. “But I’m not from Bountiful, not really. I grew up at my parents’ place outside of town, and most recently, I’ve lived on the mountain.”

  “You went to school with us here in Bountiful,” Olivia argued, her features set in a firm expression she’d surely perfected disciplining her children.

  “It was a long time ago—”

  “You’re here now,” Mrs. Alton said in a voice that left no doubt where she stood on the matter. “And as the president of the society, why, I do declare, dressing you should be our next project. We can start with a meeting day after tomorrow. At that time, we can talk about the box lunch auction, too.”

  No matter what excuse Faith put forward, the two strong-willed women dispatched it with remarkable ease. By the time Olivia donned her cloak to return home, Faith had agreed to go along with the plan. They assured her no one in Bountiful would be foolish enough to believe a word Theo said.

  She wondered. She really wondered.

  And still, hours later, she couldn’t believe her future would unfold in such a tidy fashion. Surely not the future of a widow accused of murder and arson.

  “Are you ready, dear?” Mrs. Alton asked two days later. “I’m excited for you to meet the rest of the ladies. They’re all so sorry these terrible things have happened to you, and they want to help in any way they can. You’ll see. They’re very welcoming. Not that there are all that many of us here, yet.”

  Faith focused on the less worrisome part of Mrs. Alton’s comment. At least if there weren’t many ladies in town, there would be fewer people to scorn her.

  Faith knew, better than most, that the West was still a man’s world. Too many women who tried to make the move out to the territories breathed their last on the way across the plains. The railroads had made things much better, but it was still a costly journey, and many couldn’t afford train fare for a whole family. They chose to fill wagons with their belongings, join up in a train, and make the crossing that way.

  Those women who survived the journey often died in childbirth, since there were so few doctors caring for so many, and over such sprawled-out areas. Then there were the ladies that refused to follow their men. They knew what to expect…or they thought they knew what awaited them.

  Faith’s family had come by wagon, but she didn’t remember much. She’d been very young. But after growing up out on the farm, losing Mama and Papa to an Indian raiding party, and then the years spent living with Roger in the back of the general store on the mountain, Bountiful looked quite nice and civilized to her.

  With a perceptive glance toward Faith, Mrs. Alton stepped outside and, reluctantly, Faith had to follow. The cold wind slapped her face, setting her back with its power. “Goodness! I’d forgotten it could get like this. I suppose I grew used to the trees blocking out the wind on the mountain.”

  “Sure,” her hostess said as she closed the door. “There’s nothing here to break that wind—no trees to speak of, no hills near enough to matter, and too few buildings to shield Main Street.”

  They started down the street, heading toward Metcalf’s Mercantile, where the owner had let the Bible Society set up a large quilting frame in his store’s back room.

  “I’m surprised a gentleman storeowner would let a group of ladies use his establishment to come together and quilt.”

  “Oh, Zebediah Metcalf is one shrewd businessman,” Mrs. Alton said, her smile full of humor. “Where do you think we buy our dress goods? Our thread?” She nodded, an astute expression on her soft, plump face. “Mm-hm. He knows he’ll make a tidy sum from our purchases.”

  “And this will be the best place for a Bible Society meeting? Not the church building?”

  Mrs. Alton hooked her arm through Faith’s. “We often sew for the missionaries who distribute the Good Book. Since that’s still our society’s main focus, we haven’t seen the need to change the name. But we’ve tackled another project or two before, as well as the quilts. Because of the quilts, we set up a suitable meeting space in the store, since Reverend Alton would not find it amusing if we had us our great, big quilting frame in the middle of his sanctuary. By now we have a good supply of scissors, pins, and tapelines there. It’s the most convenient location, with it being right in the middle of town.”

  Faith tried to escape the keen scrutiny of the reverend’s wife by gazing straight ahead toward their destination. But she must not have succeeded in shielding the worry on her face.

  “Don’t you fret now,” her hostess said, her voice a gentle scold. “The ladies all sa
id they’d like to help get you back on your feet again. They know how difficult things can be for a woman out here. Besides, the walk will be excellent exercise for us. I’ve eaten a few too many slices of pie over these past few weeks, and you’re looking a mite peaked, if I do say so. It’ll do us both good to get out of the house.”

  Faith touched her cheek with her free hand. “Peaked? I reckon I may be a bit…”

  “Pshaw! Healthy is healthy. And, as I told you, this outing will do you a world of—OH!”

  Mrs. Alton stumbled toward the ground, the force of her momentum flinging Faith off balance. As she fought to right herself and pull her older companion upright, something struck her in the middle of the back.

  A gust of air exploded from her lips.

  Pain stole her breath.

  Her hands flew out as she tried to brace herself. It didn’t help. She hit the road surface.

  Sparks danced in her head.

  As darkness took over, she heard Mrs. Alton’s cries. The sounds of her friend’s pain and the pounding of hooves were the last Faith consciously registered.

  Chapter 10

  An eternity of black stretched out past Faith. As she identified the existence of the expanse, she realized a blacksmith had taken residence in her head and begun to clang away at the inside of her forehead.

  Clang! Clang! Clang!

  The pain left her unable to move even as little as it took to draw breath. Something dry and gritty filled her nose with each attempt.

  She moaned.

  A red haze filled her throbbing head.

  When she tried to shift, a wave of nausea stunned her. The simple attempt let her know she was lying face down on a hard surface covered with something puffy, gritty—