A Veiled Reflection

by Tracie Peterson

  “But—” Mac put a finger to her lips and wouldn’t let her continue. “Marriage has to be more than feelings and more than plotting against someone else’s plans. My parents loved each other a great deal. They filled a need in each other. I thought I might have that kind of love with Abigail, but it never happened. I want that kind of love with you.”

  She thought he might kiss her, but instead, he moved away and began gathering up his clothes. His separation, even of a few feet, caused Jillian an immediate sense of loss. “I’ll put these aside,” he continued. “You sleep in here tonight, and I’ll take the sofa. That way if Zack needs me, Gwen won’t have far to come.”

  Jillian had planned to tell Mac of her love for him, had fully anticipated explaining how she had kept her true feelings a secret, but now the words stuck in her throat. Maybe she did need time to think this through. After all, until her mother had insisted on coming to meet Mac, Jillian had never discovered the depth of her feelings for Mac.

  Then another thought pricked her conscience. Mary had said that a person should be right with God before binding themselves to someone on earth. Jillian had longed to better understand how to make herself right, but she’d never taken the time to talk to Mary—or Reverend Lister for that matter.

  Unable to suppress a yawn, Jillian suddenly felt very weary. The events of the week had caught up with her and all she longed for was a warm bed and time to rest.

  “This ought to serve you well enough for sleeping,” Mac said, pulling a nightshirt from the closet. He shook it out and snapped it hard several times to assure them both that it was free of desert creatures. “Let me check the bed for you.” He handed her the nightshirt, then after seeing to the bed, he moved across the room to the door. “If you need me . . .” He left the rest unsaid.

  “Good night, Mac,” Jillian whispered, clutching the nightshirt close.

  He looked at her, the desire evident in his eyes. “Good night, Mrs. MacCallister.”

  After he had gone, Jillian sat down on the edge of the bed to contemplate what had just happened. If she understood everything, Mac loved her and was happy to be married to her. This idea should have left her with a heart overflowing with happiness, but instead, Jillian felt a strange emptiness. Well, it wasn’t exactly emptiness.

  My life here has been based on lies from the start, she reasoned. I came here as one woman when I was truly another. And now I feel I’ve become someone else again. I don’t think or feel like I used to. That Jillian Danvers existed in a refined and elegant world. A prison, really. She wasn’t worth much. She was afraid of everything and everyone.

  Staring at the closed door, Jillian pondered her transformation. “I’m not that woman anymore,” she murmured. She thought of Little Sister and baby Hope. She thought of the Navajo and of Mary’s desire to share the light of Jesus with them.

  I want that light too, she realized. And then she knew it wasn’t an emptiness in her heart, so much as a longing. A longing for a relationship with God like Mary had and so clearly demonstrated.

  I don’t know how to get that, and if I find it, will that make things right again? Will my life finally make sense?

  She ran her hand lightly over the soft woolen cover on Mac’s bed. She thought of the contrast between this and her richly decorated room in Kansas City. Mac’s bed could boast nothing more than an iron head railing and a lumpy mattress. Her bed at home had been fashioned out of the finest oak. The mattresses were the softest goose down, and the bedding had cost a small fortune, having been imported from one of her mother’s trips to London.

  Arizona had shown her another side of life, and strangely enough, Jillian found this world more inviting. Oh, there were those folks who had given her misery and unhappiness, but that was to be expected no matter where you traveled or lived. Jillian yawned and stood to stretch. She began unfastening her blouse, realizing that only hours before she had stood before Reverend Lister. What a strange wedding night, she mused.

  * * *

  After what had seemed like only minutes of sleep, Jillian found herself being shaken.

  “Jillian, wake up,” Gwen called.

  Slowly, as if coming through a veil of mist, Jillian opened her eyes. “Am I late for work?”

  Gwen laughed. “Yes, you are.”

  Jillian sat straight up and yawned. “I’m coming.” Then she noticed her surroundings. “Oh.” She felt incapable of saying anything more.

  “Kate just sent me a message,” Gwen explained. “It seems that our romantic celebration from the night before last and the fire from last night have left us shorthanded at the Harvey House.”

  “How so?” Jillian questioned, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed.

  “Well, apparently we lost another couple of girls,” Gwen replied. “Two for sure and possibly three.”

  “I still don’t understand why that’s our fault.” Jillian forced herself from the bed and laughed at the way Mac’s nightshirt puddled on the floor. “Next time I’ll bring my own clothes.”

  “That would probably be wise,” Gwen agreed with a grin. “Look, from what Kate said, two of the newest girls, Ellen and Matilda, have run off with local cowboys.”

  “But they came shortly after I did,” Jillian said in surprise. “And now they’ve up and quit and run off to get married?”

  “Apparently so. Another of the girls, the one who came just last week, hasn’t been seen since last night during the fire, when she hysterically declared that life out here was too wild for her and she was going home to her mother in Boston.”

  “She’s got to be around here somewhere. There won’t be an eastbound train through for at least an hour or two,” Jillian said, shedding Mac’s nightshirt to reveal her chemise. She laughed at Gwen’s curious look. “Mac’s nightshirt is kind of scratchy,” she offered as an explanation. She picked up her corset. “Will you help me with this?”

  Gwen nodded and came to lace Jillian into the contraption while Jillian continued. “How’s Zack this morning?”

  “He’s fine. He’s complaining of a powerful headache and an empty stomach, so I figure he’ll make it.”

  “I suppose you’ll have to put the wedding off until he’s back on his feet.”

  Gwen laughed and pulled the laces tight. “He’s already on his feet. He won’t be kept down. He knows that Mr. Everhart or Mr. Cooper has no doubt already wired the fort to tell them that the Indians have escaped.”

  “There’s only going to be more trouble now,” Jillian said sadly. “Poor Mary. She’s worked so hard to show the Navajo that not everyone is like Mr. Cooper or the soldiers.”

  “Some soldiers are good,” Gwen offered, finishing with the corset. Jillian slipped her skirt on first and then her blouse. Doing up the buttons she said, “I suppose it’s just that there are bad folk among every type of people. Just as there are good folk among the same. Not all white people are honorable and not all Indians will be either.”

  “That’s true enough,” Gwen replied, waiting while Jillian finished dressing.

  Jillian looked around the room for a brush. “I suppose my hair will have to wait. I guess I’m ready.”

  Mac came into the front room just as Jillian was following Gwen out the door. “Escaping me, eh?”

  Jillian paused and smiled shyly. “I’ll be back. I live here now, remember?”

  Mac’s eyes warmed. “How could I forget.”

  Jillian felt a strange current run through her. “I need to go help Gwen. Apparently we’ve lost more help at the Harvey House.”

  He nodded. “We can talk later.”

  “I’d like that,” Jillian said softly. “I have a great deal to say to you.”

  She hurried after Gwen, hoping that she would have a chance to talk to Mary before she came back to explain things to Mac. She longed to have answers for her questions, and she knew Mary would understand.

  The first train arrived, and with it a load of hungry and cranky passengers. Spending the night on the train
made even the stout of heart downright uncomfortable. Sleepy-eyed children accompanied by equally weary women and men shuffled into the dining room. Jillian circulated among the tables, asking what everyone wanted to drink and arranging cups and saucers in accordance with Mr. Harvey’s system of order. Kate and two other girls followed, quickly filling those cups with coffee, hot tea, and milk. Once this was done, huge platters of food arrived. Breakfast in Fred Harvey’s restaurant was no less a grand celebration than lunch or dinner. The portions remained huge and the quality impeccable.

  When a commotion was stirred up on the far side of the room, Jillian just happened to look up in time to see a rail-thin woman berating her petite teenage daughter to take her place in a high chair. The high chairs were reserved for smaller children, but because youngsters ate for half the price of adults, people were often found to try this method of saving pennies. Gwen usually allowed them to get away with it, but it always made Jillian feel rather sorry for the child involved. And today was no different. The girl was in tears as the woman demanded she do as she was told. Finally, a stranger came from across the room.

  “Madam,” he said politely. “It would be my honor to purchase your daughter’s breakfast. Perhaps she would feel more comfortable seated here at the table, however.” He graciously held out a chair for the girl.

  The teenager dried her tears while the pinch-faced woman stared at the man in a manner that suggested she wasn’t at all sure how to take this man’s offer.

  “And who might you be?” she finally asked the man.

  He smiled and gave his bearded chin a little stroke. “Why, I’m Fred Harvey,” he told her. “And this is my restaurant.”

  As the name was spoken throughout the dining room, Jillian watched Gwen pale noticeably from across the room. The great man himself had come to dine in their little house. Jillian thought it rather strange and amusing that he would take his breakfast here in tiny Pintan, instead of one of the nicer, larger facilities elsewhere. Why, Winslow wasn’t that far away, and they were renowned for their atmosphere and service. Nevertheless, he was here, and she knew Gwen would be counting on all of them to make certain there were no mishaps.

  “Please, God, don’t let me break anything,” Jillian muttered.

  The rest of the meal passed without incident, and when the final boarding call was given, Mr. Harvey shook hands with Gwen and Sam Capper and thanked them for a pleasant meal. Jillian and the other girls had lined up as if they were soldiers for inspection.

  “You’ve done a fine job here,” Mr. Harvey told them. “Keep up the good work.”

  When the train pulled out, Gwen sighed openly. “I’m so glad we came to work this morning. Imagine if I hadn’t been here what might have been said.”

  “You are a good housemother,” Jillian told her with a smile. “I do believe that whether you were here to present yourself to Mr. Harvey or not, everything would have run smoothly. You’ve trained us well, and if I can turn into a capable Harvey Girl under your tutelage, anyone can.” Everyone laughed at this, easily remembering Jillian’s clumsiness.

  There came a bit of a crowd after church later in the afternoon. Folks tended to like to continue their fellowship after the services and often they would grace the Harvey House for lunch.

  “Miss Danvers,” one nicely dressed woman said from her place at the table. “I’d like to say something to you.”

  Jillian smiled down at the women seated around the huge oak table. “Why, of course, but you’ll have to forgive me for correcting you. I’m Mrs. MacCallister now. I eloped last night.” Jillian stated this in hopes that anyone who might have witnessed her coming from Mac’s house early that morning would have their accusations stifled before they were issued.

  The woman gasped in surprise, then offered her words of congratulation as Jillian showed off the ring Mac had put on her finger.

  “How wonderful!” the woman who had first called her attention replied. “My dear, we are delighted to have you as a part of our town. What you said yesterday . . . well, it needed to be said for some time. My husband intends to see Mr. Cooper run out of town. He’s gone with some of the others to help locate the soldiers, but not because he hates the Navajo. Rather, he’d like to see some order and peace brought out of last night’s tragedy—and that would include Mr. Cooper’s resignation.”

  Jillian felt blessed as the women continued to praise her efforts and assure her of their support.

  “We’ve long been ramrodded by Hazel Everhart, and I think it did us all a bit of good to see you slap her and call her on her rudeness and obvious lies.”

  Jillian’s cheeks grew hot. “I should never have lost my temper, but I appreciate that you would be so kind to me after the way I spoke.”

  “She’s quite the gal, ain’t she?” Mary said from behind Jillian. She came to put her arm around Jillian’s shoulders. “I knew she was somethin’ special the first time I laid eyes on her in church.”

  The ladies agreed. “We’d like to invite you to take part in a quilting party we have scheduled for a week from Saturday,” one of the older women announced. “My daughter is getting married, and we’re putting together a special quilt.”

  “Thank you,” Jillian said, feeling an immense sense of gratitude. “I would love to.”

  Jillian turned to her mentor. “Mary,” she said with great enthusiasm, “I’m so glad you’re here. I simply must talk to you. Can you spare me some time after lunch?”

  Mary nodded. “I’ve got a few things to discuss with you as well.

  Why don’t you come over to the hotel? You can play with Hope and tell me all about what’s on your heart.”

  TWENTY-THREE

  SETTLING DOWN TO FEED HOPE, Jillian knew a sense of satisfaction that normally eluded her. The precious baby seemed more alert and interested in her surroundings than she had only a few days earlier, and it fascinated Jillian.

  “She’s changing so much. So quickly.”

  Mary nodded. “Babies have a way of doing that.” The older woman sat down on a nearby straight chair and eyed Jillian seriously. “So what was it you wanted to talk about?”

  Jillian touched the downy softness of Hope’s ebony hair. “I wanted first to apologize.”

  “Apologize?” questioned Mary. “Whatever for?”

  “Mary, you’ve been the one friend I could truly count on since coming here, and I’ve deceived you over and over. I didn’t set out to be that way. I can’t honestly say that I was ever given to lying before now, but it seems the last few months of my life have been nothing but one tangled-up mess.”

  “Lies have a way of doing that to a person. It’s kind of like getting your ball of yarn all tangled and then finding that you only make matters worse as you try to straighten it out.”

  “Yes, it’s exactly like that,” Jillian said, nodding. “I came here under false pretenses, and that just started the ball rolling. Before I knew it, I was lying to everyone, including my parents and you. I even lied to Little Sister and that breaks my heart now. She was so touched that I would give her my name, but I didn’t give her my name.” Sorrow overwhelmed Jillian in the memory.

  “But you’ve already told me about pretending to be Judith,” Mary offered.

  “I know, but I didn’t tell you about lying to my parents about being engaged to Mac,” Jillian said, looking back to Hope. She was so ashamed of having lied to Mary. “I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted anything more to do with me, but I hope you will hear me out.”

  Mary laughed. “I’ve had folks do a whole lot worse and I still talk to them.”

  Jillian smiled and met Mary’s compassionate gaze. “Mary, I wasn’t really engaged to Mac. I mean, we’re married now, but even that came about through a collective misunderstanding.”

  “What happened?”

  “I wrote to my mother telling her that I had met a wonderful man.”

  “Mac.”

  “Yes, Mac,” replied Jillian. “Mary, that part wasn’t a
lie. I’ve always thought Mac was a truly great man. He was kind and sweet and generous.”

  “Good-lookin’ fellow too,” Mary teased.

  “That didn’t hurt matters,” Jillian said, grinning. “But you see, my mother was so insistent on seeing me married off. She had been plotting and planning for years on how to see me married to nobility or at least to someone very wealthy. So when her letters started arriving and she was still suggesting the idea of bringing suitors out here to Arizona, I decided enough was enough.”

  “You told her you were marrying Mac and she believed you.” Mary’s statement explained away most of the remaining issues.

  “Yes. We told everyone in town that we were engaged, mainly because my mother and father were on their way to meet Mac. Mac thought it very funny and decided it would be a good time, but last night my father was livid when he found me talking to a half-dressed Mac. My hair was down and my buttons weren’t completely done up, and he presumed I was coming from an evening with Mac.”

  “Oh my. I guess that set him on his ear.”

  “To say the least. He marched us to the preacher and saw us properly married, only now—” “Only now there’s no way to explain to everyone that it was just a make-believe engagement.”

  Jillian nodded. “Trouble is, I never wanted it to be make-believe.”

  “What are you saying, deary?”

  Jillian put the bottle aside and shifted the baby in order to burp her. “I’m saying I love Mac. I’ve loved him for a long time. The things I wrote to my mother were true, with the exception of actually being engaged. I wrote of falling in love with a wonderful heroic man. And I had.”

  “So what’s the problem?” Mary asked softly.

  “The problem is, Mac thinks that this was all just a game. He said he cares and said he wouldn’t have married me if he didn’t really want to, but I’m still worried that he only did it out of pity for me.”

  Mary guffawed loudly. “Oh, girlie, that boy wouldn’t have married anyone out of pity. He’s been so heartsick with love for you that it ain’t even funny. I’ve watched him pinin’ for you when you were too busy to notice he was even in the same room.”