A Path Toward Love

by Cara Lynn James

  Oh Lord, please guide me in a way I can’t possibly misinterpret. Her gaze shifted from Mama to Papa. She had listened to Mama long enough. “Please excuse me. I promised Aunt Letty I’d help sort through her old magazines today. She has so many.”

  Mama rolled her eyes. “She keeps everything. You’re doing her a great favor by helping her part with her paraphernalia.”

  Heading toward the door, Katherine heard Mama’s warning. “I want you to always remember this moment, Katherine— before you’re tempted to act, do speak with me first. We can talk about it, and I’ll help you in any way I can.”

  Looking over her shoulder, Katherine mumbled, “Yes, of course, Mama. Thank you.”

  But as she turned away, she couldn’t quite imagine doing so.

  Talking over a problem with her mother meant Mama did all the advising and Katherine did all the listening and agreeing.

  She found Aunt Letty playing croquet with the Clarkes. When the game ended, Aunt Letty took her by the hand and led her down the covered walkway toward the kitchen building. “How would like to pick raspberries with me? I thought I’d ask Cook to bake a raspberry tart with whipped cream on top.”

  “I’d be delighted. But what about throwing out your ancient magazines?”

  The old lady shrugged. “Well, I’m not sure tossing them was such a good idea when there’s nothing wrong with any of them except they’re old. You might find the stories entertaining and get a real laugh from the out-of-date fashions.” She held out the enormous leg-of-mutton sleeve of her shirtwaist. “Like this, for instance. It hasn’t been popular in ten years, but I still love the puffiness.”

  “It might not be stylish, but the blouse looks lovely on you.”

  Aunt Letty laughed until her eyes watered. “You’re quite the diplomat, Katherine.”

  “Nobody’s ever called me diplomatic before. Mama often says I’m too outspoken and direct.”

  Aunt Letty nodded. “Don’t you buckle under Isabelle’s weight when you think she’s wrong. She believes she has a monopoly on insight and wisdom, but sometimes her wisdom is a bit self-serving.”

  Katherine laughed. “I’ve noticed.”

  Once at their cabin, they changed into their most serviceable frocks and pulled on boots and donned plain straw hats. They located tin pails in the kitchen and set off across the lawn toward the woods. Birds chirped in the thick tangle of bushes and skinny pines and white birch trees that reached high for the sun.

  Katherine tilted her head. “I took your advice and I apologized to Mama and Papa this morning. It wasn’t as hard as I expected. Of course they accepted it graciously. But Mama feels more convinced than ever that she knows best and I ought to follow wherever she leads. I was afraid she’d feel that way.”

  Aunt Letty sighed. “You’ll have to accept your mother as she is. I’m afraid she won’t change, unless the Lord Himself works a transformation. Listen to what she says, but follow your own conscience.” Letty’s sideways gaze perked with curiosity. “Tell me, how do you feel now that you’ve apologized? Relieved?”

  “I do. I’ve felt guilty for all the grief and worry I caused them. It’s not easy to admit blame, but now I think I can leave my mistake in the past.”

  “Splendid. I’m so proud of you for not allowing your pride to stand in your way. It’s hard to ask for forgiveness, but it’s good for the soul, isn’t it?”

  Katherine smiled. “Yes, it is. I’ve learned a lesson. I’ll ask for forgiveness when I should and I’ll forgive those who’ve hurt me.” But the moment she spoke she realized her anger toward Charles and Harriet still burned like acid, and she had no charity in her heart for them. “I need to pardon others, but it’s so very difficult. Will you pray for me?”

  Her aunt nodded. “Indeed, I shall.”

  Katherine and Aunt Letty walked for a quarter of a mile before they came across a narrow trail that forked to the right. They followed the trial until it ended at an open vista with a pond directly ahead. Spiky evergreens ringed it on three sides and gave off a balsam fragrance that reminded her of Christmas.

  They stopped at the side of the path where some of the wild raspberry brambles shot up a few feet above their heads, though most were shorter than eye level. Aunt Letty drew a whistle from her pocket and blew it with one mighty breath. A flock of birds flapped their wings and leaped into the bright blue sky.

  Katherine covered her ears until Aunt Letty tucked the whistle back in her skirt pocket.

  “There. That should scare away any bears. They love raspberries too, you know.”

  “It’s been awhile since I’ve had to worry about bears. In Florida, it’s the alligators.”

  “Well, you won’t find any of those around here, thankfully. All right, now, let’s pick.” Aunt Letty gingerly pulled the small, round berries and plunked them into her pail.

  Katherine pulled apart a red berry, examined it, and then popped it into her mouth. Before long her bucket held an abundance of red, purple, and black berries. The hot sunshine seeped through their long sleeves and high collars.

  Aunt Letty put down her pail and smiled up at the sun. She tipped her hat back and let the golden rays heat her face. “This feels wonderful. I think I’ll rest for a minute or two.”

  Katherine finished filling hers to the brim. “We have enough for several pies. Should we go back now so you can rest at the cabin?”

  “A grand idea. We’ll be back in time for a brief nap before luncheon.” Aunt Letty cocked her head and wrapped her hand through the loop of Katherine’s arm. “While we walk, would you mind if I ask you a personal question? If you think I’m far too nosy, I understand perfectly.”

  “Go right ahead.” Buckets in hand, they headed back through the cool, shaded woods.

  “All right then. When you mentioned it’s hard to forgive some of the people who’ve caused you pain, I wondered if you meant Charles.”

  Pausing, Katherine noticed the hum of insects and tree frogs took the edge off the quiet. “Yes, I most definitely meant Charles. And Harriet. She was his mistress.”

  Aunt Letty’s eyes widened with shock and then sympathy. “Oh, my dear, I’m truly sorry.” She pressed Katherine’s hand.

  “I’d like to tell you the story, if you don’t mind listening.”

  “If you feel it will help, go right ahead.”

  Katherine briefly explained how she discovered Charles’s infidelity through the letters between him and Harriet, and how her marriage had died long before Charles’s passing. Unburdening herself seemed to lighten the weight she’d been carrying for far too long.

  “No wonder you’re sad, and if I might say so, a bit unforgiving. Am I wrong about that? Nurturing the pain is quite understandable, my dear. But as more time passes, you’ll learn to forgive them. Let the bad memories fade. Don’t let this keep you from future happiness. You’ll be blessed with a second chance at love. I can feel it in my old, creaky bones.”

  Katherine smiled, but doubted Aunt Letty’s prediction. Who was set aside for her? Randy? She shook her head. Even if the Lord sent her another man to love, she probably wouldn’t have the judgment to recognize him. If that’s in Your plan, Lord, she prayed silently, make it clear. Please make it very clear.

  Midafternoon the following day Katherine wrote a note to Stuart Osborne asking for news about her citrus groves. When she heard a rap on her cabin door, she cracked it open and Mama stepped over the threshold flashing a resolute smile. “Some of the ladies are out on the back veranda waiting to see you, dear. So do come, and bring your needlework or that pretty little hat you’re fixing up.”

  If she hesitated, Mama would pounce. She’d put her off as long as she could. But the possibility of an afternoon by herself was at least worth a try. “I’m sorry, Mama, but I was planning to take a short nap. I have a bit of a headache. I’d be awfully dull company until I feel better.” All of which was true, if slightly exaggerated.

  “Nonsense, my dear. You mustn’t indulge yourself. I h
ave just the thing for headaches. I’ll have Bridget get it for you.” She glanced around for the maid, who immediately emerged from the dressing room with a dress draped over her arm. “Bridget, go fetch my headache medicine. And be quick about it.”

  The maid bobbed a curtsy and disappeared.

  Mama scrutinized Katherine from top to bottom. “Surely you have a light-colored frock somewhere. Do put on something less drab. Honestly, you dress as if you’re as old as Aunt Letty.” She marched to Katherine’s wardrobe, scanned the meager assortment of tired dresses and plain, gored skirts. “Hmm. Not much to choose from, I see.”

  Mama pulled out a light gray skirt and paired it with an old white shirtwaist in need of bluing, but the best of the lot. “At least it has a few tucks down the front and a row of pearl buttons. With your cameo at the neck, it might be pretty, or at least not as shabby as most of your clothes. I shall see you on the veranda in five minutes.” With that, Mama turned on her heel and left.

  Unlike Newport and Bar Harbor, Mama’s guests at Birchwood shared a love of nature’s rugged beauty and eagerly shed the majority of their pretentions along with their elegant wardrobes. They eschewed silks and satins in favor of lawn and muslin, and took to calling vacations in the Adirondacks “roughing it.” But despite their rustic furniture housed in log cabins and a simple, though spacious, lodge, they maintained their high standards of ease—indoor plumbing, a fleet of boats, and a staff of servants to cater to their every whim.

  Katherine changed her clothes, swallowed a small dose of aspirin, and strolled down the walkway leading to the chalet’s back veranda. Ladies of various ages gathered on wicker chairs in a semicircle facing the lake. Mrs. Clarke motioned Katherine to the seat beside her. Mama was potting marigolds from the top step of the veranda only a few feet away from the group.

  Katherine tried not to squirm as several sets of curious eyes focused upon her. She flashed her most polite smile at each lady and waited for the genteel inquisition to begin. Oddly, they hesitated. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, so she busied her fingers with her half-finished boater. The steady click-clack of knitting needles filled the quiet. A bumblebee buzzed around the plain straw hats and the ladies swatted it away.

  “It’s wonderful to see all of you again. I’m delighted to be home,” Katherine began, unable to bear the silence. “Florida is lovely, but Raquette Lake holds my heart. I’ve always loved the Adirondacks. They’re so wild and primitive.”

  Mrs. Porter arched a brow. “I’m not surprised that wild and primitive would appeal to you, Katherine,” she said in a measured voice laced with censure.

  She could play Mrs. Porter’s cutting little game too, but she’d not embarrass herself, or anyone else. “Perhaps when I was younger, but no longer. My youth has fled and I’m content to live out my days as a widow.”

  She gazed down at her hands and then glanced toward Mrs. Clarke, whose face cracked with disbelief. “Katherine will no doubt change her mind about remarriage once she rejoins society,” she explained in her chilliest tone. “And that will take place in the fall, as soon as we return to the city. Isn’t that right, Isabelle?”

  Mama looked up from her flowers. “Yes, indeed. Everyone misses you, Katherine dear. They’ll not allow you to keep to yourself for long. Mark my words.” Mama glanced around for reinforcement.

  Katherine peered at Mama in confusion. She’d made it very clear she was only home for the summer. Was this evidence that her mother didn’t believe her?

  “You’re so right, Isabelle. We’re all so glad to have you back,” pretty Mrs. Lessman said. “And you mustn’t dwell upon the past or you’ll make yourself miserable. You’re much too young to shut yourself away. Do try to overcome your grief and sadness. You must be strong.”

  Mrs. Porter smirked. “If you’ll pardon my boldness, Katherine, too much grieving is just plain self-indulgent. Listen to Mrs. Lessman. You mustn’t give in to your weakest emotions.”

  Katherine’s impulse to refute these ladies wobbled on the tip of her tongue. Lord, help me smile politely and stay in this chair. Don’t allow me to throw down my hat and storm off. Please keep me from embarrassing Mama. “I see your point, Mrs. Porter,” Katherine murmured through clenched teeth.

  Mrs. Porter nodded, apparently mollified. “I do hope when you do decide to marry again, you’ll favor us with a proper wedding. We were so deflated when you eloped with Mr. Osborne and deprived us of a grand celebration.”

  “This time will be different, Pamela,” Mama insisted as she shoved her trowel in the clay pot. “When Katherine remarries, her wedding will be a lovely affair, I assure you.”

  This time? When Katherine remarries? Had Mama not heard a word that Katherine had said?

  Mrs. Porter persisted, “But why did you run off the first time, Katherine? You knew your mother’s dearest wish was to give you a lavish celebration.”

  Poor Mrs. Porter didn’t know when to retreat. If only she had noticed Mama’s red, puckered face. Katherine saw her mother mentally scratching Mrs. Porter off her list of friends to invite back to camp, let alone any future wedding. Echoing Mama’s sentiments and opinions was expected, but badgering her daughter was solely Mama’s prerogative, not anyone else’s.

  Katherine expelled a puff of air. “I didn’t wish to put Mama to so much trouble.” That was such a lame excuse her cheeks flamed. From the widening of eyes, no one believed a word of it. Hastily she added, “And Charles wanted to get back to Florida as soon as possible. His father was ill. In fact, he passed on about a year later.”

  Mumbled condolences followed. They sounded sincere, and she decided to give the ladies the benefit of the doubt.

  “Where did you marry?” tiny Mrs. Bruce piped up. “I don’t believe I read about it on the society page.”

  “In New York. I couldn’t travel with a gentleman without being married, now could I?” Katherine coated her voice with a dab of honey. At least she’d done something right.

  “No, indeed, you could not.” Mrs. Clarke’s steely gaze slid from lady to lady. “Katherine would never do anything improper. She’s a woman of impeccable character.”

  Flustered, Mrs. Bruce nodded. “Naturally. I’d never imply otherwise, Georgia.”

  Birds twittered, leaves rustled, and the sunlight glinted through the branches. The lake gleamed like a silver tray. Everything seemed so normal and so beautiful, except for the turmoil that boiled in Katherine’s chest. She tried to focus on the project in her hand and hoped the ladies would change the subject.

  After a short pause in the conversation, Mrs. Lessman said, “Your hat is lovely, Katherine. You have quite a knack for decoration.”

  Relieved that the topic of marriage was being replaced, Katherine flashed a sunny smile. “Mama’s maid taught me how when I was young, and I really enjoy it. I’ve salvaged several of my hats. They’re like new.”

  Of course none of these ladies needed to economize by refurbishing anything, so they nodded, eyes vacant.

  “It’s an enjoyable hobby.” Katherine hesitated for a few seconds, eager to keep the subject off her future relationships.

  “I’ve toyed with turning my hobby into something meaningful and worthwhile. What would you all think of me creating some unique hats for my friends and donating the proceeds to charity?” She held her breath and waited for remarks. Perhaps Papa had been wrong.

  But all their eyes widened at once. Mrs. Porter gasped. “You don’t mean you’d sell your hats, do you?”

  Katherine mustered all her courage. “Perhaps, if someone wishes to buy one. As I said, all the funds would go to a good cause. A charity.”

  Mama clapped the dirt off her gloved hands and then tore off the dirty gloves and tossed them aside. “Impossible, my dear. Women are not meant to be entrepreneurs. What a ridiculous notion.” Mama’s gaze cut her with a sharp warning.

  Mrs. Clarke huffed. “You’re clever, Katherine, but not practical. Just be satisfied with redoing hats for yourself. All is innocent u
ntil one enters the world of commerce, for charity or otherwise. That’s a realm best reserved for the men.”

  Aunt Letty, who’d just joined the group, spoke up. “I, for one, think it’s a brilliant idea, Katherine, and if it tickles your fancy, you ought to pursue it.”

  Mama groaned. “Really, Aunt, you mustn’t encourage such a silly idea.”

  Katherine buried her head in her work so no one would notice how her face was heating up. When would she learn to keep her own counsel like the rest of these ladies and conform to their standards? Yet it seemed impossible to curb her impulses.

  Mama piped up. “I hear Rowena Howard is home from England.” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. The ladies leaned into the circle, obviously eager to hear the latest gossip. “Rumor says she’s divorced from the earl. How dreadful. Her dear mother is distraught, as you might well imagine.”

  “A divorce, not just a separation?” Mrs. Lessman’s jaw dropped open. The poor woman was easily scandalized. What would she do if she found out about Charles? “She’ll never get away with it. No one will receive her.”

  Mama nodded. “Just because Alva Vanderbilt divorced and survived it, doesn’t mean anyone else can. You’d have to be as rich as the Vanderbilts to even try.”

  “Or Caroline Astor’s daughter, Charlotte Drayton. Remember she ran off to Europe with a man,” Mrs. Wyatt purred.

  “And to make matters worse, they were both married, but not to each other,” Mrs. Porter agreed.

  Katherine bit her lip. Less than two years into her marriage, she’d considered fleeing to New York and back to the arms of her family. But she couldn’t dredge up the courage. As much as Mama disliked and distrusted Charles, she’d never countenance a separation, let alone a divorce. Old-fashioned and convinced that divorce violated God’s will as well as society’s, Mama believed in lifelong commitment. Katherine did too. So she’d waited and prayed for some improvement in her situation. Only it had to arrive through Charles’s death.