Buttons and Bows

by Amelia C. Adams

  “You’re right. Carry on.” He entered the house, a bag in each hand, and Kitty turned back to the horse and buggy.

  “Come on,” she said to the horse, taking him by the headpiece and leading him toward the stable. It might have been easier to drive him, but she didn’t want to wrestle her skirts in and out of the buggy again—enough was enough.

  She let her mind wander as she unbuckled the various straps and led the horse into its stall, and of course, the first place it wandered was back to the hotel and their breakfast with Justin Sorenson. She’d never anticipated that she’d be seeing him that morning, and it was a pleasant surprise. She hoped she had seemed friendlier toward him and not at all like the shrew she’d been when they first met. That was a memory she wished she could erase, but no—she’d relived it a dozen times in great detail. But he’d seemed happy to share his table with them, and that must mean he’d forgiven her—plus, he was coming to the party, and that was a good sign.

  She gave the horse a good wiping down, her thoughts now turning back to Geordie. She hoped he’d be able to keep himself entertained during his visit—if he was bored, he was likely to complain about it, and she didn’t think she had the patience to deal with that. Grown persons shouldn’t complain like petulant children, but that had always been Geordie’s failing—well, that and not attending his classes.

  She closed the stable door and walked over to the pump to wash up, then entered the house again. In the parlor, Geordie had one twin on each knee and was bouncing them up and down, and they giggled until they nearly had the hiccups. She smiled as she watched them, then went into the kitchen to see what needed to be done there.

  “I believe everything’s nearly ready,” Evangeline replied when Kitty asked her. “Thank you again for taking care of Geordie’s room.”

  “It wasn’t a bother.” Kitty smiled again as peals of laughter reached their ears. “He does have a way with the girls—I say we assign him to take care of them while he’s home. Give both of us a rest.”

  Evangeline shook her head. “Can you imagine? They’d have a marvelous time playing, but he’d forget to do the simplest things like bathe them. He’d likely take them fishing and they’d drown.”

  “Or he’d get them confused and change one of them twice and the other not at all,” Kitty added.

  “He’s a good-hearted boy . . . he’s just not very responsible.” Evangeline sat down at the table and rested her chin on her hand. “I don’t know how to finish raising him, Kitty. With your father gone, he doesn’t have that sort of guidance, and I’m not the one who can give it to him.”

  And that would be another good reason for their father to be at home, but how could Kitty say that? She was an adult seeing things from an adult perspective, but she was also her parents’ child, and this was their decision to make . . . and it was all so frustrating. “Couldn’t Father do his work in Topeka, or maybe find another sort of work?” she ventured.

  Evangeline sighed. “That’s just it—because he’s investigating possible investments for his firm, he can’t stay put in any one place for longer than a few weeks. He has so many potential clients to visit.”

  “And what about another job? One that would let him be here with us?”

  “He doesn’t know any other sort of work.”

  “He could learn . . .”

  “Kitty, please.”

  Evangeline rarely spoke sharply, and Kitty was brought up short. “I’m sorry, Mother. I was just trying to help.”

  “I know that.” Evangeline pressed her fingers to her temples. “I appreciate your intentions, sweetheart—I really do. But I’ve already mulled it over many times, and the solution just isn’t presenting itself. Until it does, we’ll just keep pushing forward the best we can. Now, let’s finish setting the table, all right?”

  Kitty nodded and reached for the plates, wishing she could somehow become clever enough to solve this dilemma—and knowing that it really wasn’t her dilemma to solve.

  “I don’t feel as though I have your attention, Mr. Sorenson,” Mrs. Perry said, looking at him with narrowed eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Perry. I admit, I’m rather all over the place today.” Justin flipped back to the start of the sheet music. “Shall we go again?”

  “No, not yet.” Mrs. Perry rose from the piano and walked over to the window, where she flung the curtains wide. “It’s a beautiful day out there, and I feel we shouldn’t waste it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Follow me.”

  Curious, Justin followed her into the kitchen and held the tray she put in his hands, which she then loaded with a jar of milk, some slices of bread and cheese, a little pot of jam, and two glasses. Then they exited through the back of the house, where a small table and two chairs had been set up.

  “We’re going to sit here, breathe the fresh air, eat, and think of absolutely nothing for a few minutes,” she said. “We’re going to allow the simple goodness of life to wash through us and refresh us.”

  Thinking of absolutely nothing sounded wonderful. Justin spread his slice of bread liberally with strawberry jam and sipped milk between each bite. “This reminds me of being about six years old and visiting my grandmother’s farm,” he said. “She had the most amazing garden, and she made jams and jellies and pickled things all summer long. I’d sit on her front porch with jam and bread, and she wouldn’t let me come back in the house until I’d washed all the stickiness off at the pump.”

  Mrs. Perry smiled. “You see? Simple goodness. Your shoulders relaxed while you were telling me that memory—you’re much less tense now. I imagine you can feel the difference in your rib cage.”

  Justin pulled in an experimental breath. “I do,” he said. “That’s much better.”

  She nodded. “So, tell me—why are you so anxious today?”

  “I’m rather anxious all the time,” he said, giving a small chuckle.

  “I’ve noticed.” Her tone was wry. “What’s troubling you?”

  Justin exhaled while he gathered his thoughts. “Well, at first I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to rehabilitate my voice and that you wouldn’t agree to work with me. Now I’m afraid that I’m not progressing as quickly as I should, and that all this expense and time will go to waste. Oh, and that I’ll disappoint my parents—that’s no small matter.”

  Mrs. Perry looked at him curiously. “Do you enjoy worrying?”

  He blinked. “No. Why would I enjoy worrying?”

  She shrugged. “You seem to be rather good at it, and we tend to be good at things we do often. So I thought you must enjoy it, since you do it so much. Mr. Sorenson, your voice is being rehabilitated, and I am working with you. You’re progressing exactly as I hoped—please remember that you’ve only been here for a few days, and you mustn’t expect miracles overnight. Lastly, I’m not a parent, but I imagine that your parents are proud of you whether or not you can sing because you’re a fine young man with a good head on your shoulders, and that’s the ultimate goal of parenthood, isn’t it?”

  Justin smiled. “When you lay it out so logically, my worries do seem rather silly.”

  “I wouldn’t call them silly—I’d call them natural, but generally unfounded. Now, about Miss Clark—”

  Justin’s eyebrows flew up. “I didn’t say anything about Miss Clark.”

  “You didn’t have to.” Mrs. Perry smiled knowingly. “While I was out for my morning walk today, I stopped by the hotel to buy an apple pie for my husband, who’s coming home tonight. I glanced into the dining room and noticed you having breakfast with Miss Clark and her family, and I might have also noticed the utterly besotted look on your face.”

  Embarrassed, Justin could only nod. “You notice a lot of things,” he said at last.

  “I’m told it goes along with the artistic temperament,” she replied. “Musicians, painters, novelists—we all pay closer attention to the plight of the human race. We really can’t help it.”

  “And so w
hat do you recommend?” he asked.

  “I recommend that you marry the girl and put an end to your dithering.”

  “What?” Justin sat up straight, utterly flabbergasted. “I just met her the other day. I don’t even know the first thing about her. How can you be suggesting marriage?”

  Mrs. Perry lifted a hand. “I didn’t say to marry her right this minute. You haven’t even finished your milk yet. No, I mean that you should begin getting to know her. Assuage your curiosity. Stop wondering about her and get some actual answers. And because I know the both of you, I can safely wager that this course of action will lead to a wedding, and that, my dear Mr. Sorenson, is how I can be suggesting marriage.”

  Justin would be lying if he told her that he’d never considered marrying Miss Clark—he’d been considering it since the very first second he laid eyes on her. But to hear the idea spoken out loud in such a way was rather startling. It was like his soul had just been exposed in public.

  “She’s invited me to a party tomorrow night,” he said.

  “Perfect! I can’t think of a better way to get to know each other. Especially if there’s dancing involved.”

  “Dancing?”

  “Of course! It’s the only legitimate way I can think of to get close to each other without setting tongues wagging.”

  She spoke of these things as naturally as discussing the week’s dinner menu, and Justin found himself surprised. He’d never heard a lady talk like that before, and yet it didn’t take away from his esteem of her—he appreciated her all the more for speaking forthrightly. Sometimes straight-on advice was needed, and not beating around the bush.

  “So, I’m to attend the party, get to know Miss Clark, and eventually marry her.”

  “Correct. And once you’ve done that, I think you’ll find yourself much more content.”

  “So . . . this is part of my rehabilitation and training?”

  Mrs. Perry gave a faint smile. “Yes, I believe you could say that.”

  “Well, I didn’t expect such a pleasant assignment, but I’m more than happy to take it on.”

  She settled back into her chair with a pleased expression on her face. “I thought you would be. Now, about your upper register . . .”

  Chapter Ten

  Geordie leaned against the doorframe, watching Kitty pin her hat into place. “I suppose you want me to be on my best behavior or some such nonsense tonight.”

  She cast him a glance. “Of course not. That would be boring. Whatever put such ideas in your head?”

  “Our mother. She pulled me aside and said, ‘Be on your best behavior tonight.’ I’m not sure what she means—she probably doesn’t want me spreading stories about my dubious college career and talking all the guests out of higher education.”

  Kitty smiled. “Oh, I don’t think she meant it that seriously or dramatically.”

  “I don’t know—it sounded both serious and dramatic to me.”

  “Well, just be yourself, and if that happens to be scandalous, we shall simply have to endure it, won’t we?” Kitty put her hand on Geordie’s arm. “You are a scoundrel, you know, but I love you anyway.”

  “And I appreciate your generosity. I shall strive to deserve it.” He patted her hand. “Go along now—Miriam’s probably wondering where you are.”

  “Where we are—you’re coming over with me early to help set up.”

  “But the party doesn’t start for an hour.”

  “That’s why it’s called going over early.”

  He sighed. “Fine, fine . . . Just let me grab my jacket.”

  Kitty had already hitched up the buggy before she got dressed for the party, and she waited by the horse’s head until her brother emerged from the house, his hair slightly damp from the quick styling he’d given it. He gave her a boost, then climbed into the seat himself and took up the lines.

  They had just turned from their driveway onto the main road when Kitty noticed a boy running toward them, waving his arms.

  “Stop the buggy!” She tugged on Geordie’s arm.

  He brought the horse to a stop, and the boy came up alongside, panting.

  “Miss Clark, letter from Dr. Wayment.” He held it up, and she took it, noticing it was a little grimy from being clutched in his paw.

  She dug a coin out of her reticule and handed it to him. “Thank you. May we offer you a ride somewhere?”

  “No, thank you, miss. I’m just fine.”

  “All right, then. Thank you for the delivery.”

  As Geordie urged the horse onward, Kitty opened the letter.

  Miss Clark,

  Your mother’s symptoms suggest to me that an examination would be in order. I will call Monday afternoon at three o’clock, unless you have a more suitable time in mind. If you feel this is an emergency, I will of course come as soon as you notify me.

  Dr. Phillip Wayment

  “What’s that all about?” Geordie asked, nodding toward the letter.

  Kitty hesitated. How much should she say? She didn’t want to cause any concern, but her brother should know what had been going on in his absence. “Have you noticed anything different about Mother recently?”

  “Different? Hmm. I’d say she seems a bit more tired than usual.”

  “Yes, exactly.” She was glad he’d observed it for himself—her concerns would seem more valid. “Some days, she’s so tired, she can barely make it through dinner. I’ve written to Dr. Wayment to ask his advice, and he’ll be paying a call on Monday.”

  Geordie pursed his lips. “Why were you the one to contact the doctor? Why didn’t Mother do it herself?”

  “She should have, but you know how Mother is—she never takes care of herself. Her focus is always on other people. I knew that if I didn’t take action, it would never get done.” She held her breath for a moment, wondering if he’d scold her for overstepping. She likely deserved it—her mother was capable of making her own decisions, after all.

  “I’m glad you did it,” Geordie said at last. “If she’s not going to look after herself, it’s up to us. Er—you, rather, because I’m never home and I’m irresponsible anyway.”

  “I’m glad you think I did the right thing. I was concerned about that.” Kitty paused. “And I do wish you’d stop bringing up your perceived faults and failings as though they’re some sort of joke. It’s rather painful to hear.”

  “Painful how?”

  “To think that’s how you view yourself.”

  He glanced at her. “But isn’t that how everyone views me? Aren’t you all afraid for my very eternal soul because I’m such a scapegrace?”

  Kitty pulled in a breath. “Has someone said that to you?”

  “Not in so many words, but it hangs in the air like a thick fog.”

  Kitty fell silent for a long moment. It was so hard to know what to say. “I’ll be honest with you, Geordie,” she said at last. “I do worry about you because I see your intelligence and your potential, and I fear that you won’t become the man you have the ability to be. And that’s frustrating because it’s all a matter of your personal choices—you have all the tools you need for great success if you’ll just pick them up and use them. And . . . I also need to admit that I’m a little bit jealous.”

  “Jealous?” He seemed astonished. “Why would you be jealous?”

  “Because you and I are a lot alike—we both cringe at the thought of living up to society’s expectations, but you get away with it quite a lot more than I do. I’m supposed to be refined and delicate, and if I show the slightest bit of energy or determination, I’m frowned on. But you . . . you still manage to pass all your classes even though you don’t attend them, and Mother buys you peaches and fawns all over you when you get home. I only get lectured.”

  Geordie laughed, but it sounded hollow. “And all this time, I’ve been jealous of you.”

  “You have?” Now it was her turn to be astonished. “Whatever for?”

  “Because you got to stay home while I was sent
away. You get to focus on your piano while I have to study things that don’t hold my interest at all. And then, when I’m finished, I must find a job that bores me senseless. I feel imprisoned, like I can’t breathe sometimes, and that’s why I’m the scoundrel I am—I have to shake off these bars before they crush me.”

  Kitty was stunned into silence. “I had no idea,” she said when words would finally come.

  “It seems that neither of us did. So we’ve been jealous of each other when we should have been commiserating instead.” Geordie shifted the lines to his left hand and reached over to take Kitty’s with his right. “Let’s start again and do better.”

  “Yes, let’s.”

  Her heart felt lighter and yet heavier at the same time as they pulled into Esther Brown’s driveway. She was grateful and relieved that she and Geordie had opened up to each other, but his burden was unexpectedly heavy, and she had no idea how to support him through it.

  “Hello!” Miriam called, walking toward them across the grass. “Isn’t it the most perfect weather for an outdoor party? Hello, Geordie! Welcome home.”

  He hopped down from the buggy and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, then helped Kitty to the ground. “I was enlisted to help,” he said. “What would you like me to do?”

  “You can bring the chairs from the kitchen and set them up just over there,” Miriam directed, and he walked off on his errand.

  Miriam turned back to Kitty, a curious look on her face. “You both seem a bit solemn. Is anything wrong?”

  Kitty exhaled. “I’ll tell you about it while we work,” she replied. “It’s quite a long story.”

  Justin strolled across the grass of the Brown home, looking around for Miss Clark. There she was, ladling punch into small glass cups and arranging them on the table next to the bowl. Even though several people were already milling around, it hadn’t been difficult to find her—he’d been drawn to her like a magnet, seeming to know where she was before he’d actually seen her.

  “Good evening, Miss Clark,” he said as he picked up one of the dainty cups. “Everything looks beautiful.”