Sanctuary

by Alene Adele Roy

  Although he seemed somewhat older than he had when he came to the farm to negotiate a hiring, Mr. Davis appeared a handsome man. Secretly, Rachael thanked him and his wife from the bottom of her heart for offering this welcome opportunity, although she had not yet met Mrs. Davis. He seemed to be thankful, as well, for his face now held a beaming smile. His manner was polite as he bowed, acknowledging his driver and Rachael’s arrival. Judging by his driver, Mr. Davis was admired.

  When that creaking door finally opened, he held out a white-gloved hand to her, which seemed odd in this humid spring weather. She gladly accepted his help, though, to step down into bright sunshine. Instantly, the driver attended to the various bags and loaded trunk. As they were being unloaded, Mr. Davis bowed a second small, courteous bow as a greeting. “Welcome to magnificent Magnolia Gardens, Miss Hathaway. I’m bragging, of course, don’t you know?” he laughed. “Yet, I dare say, I am only able to do so because at my Eden I have a very dedicated staff and butler-gardener-driver encircling me, who have diligently tended the manor and gardens in my absence. May I carry some of your luggage for you?”

  “Yes, thank you.” Next, he made a point of introducing her to Crane, his butler. Afterward, he swept his hand toward the pale blue front door of his home, surprisingly adorned with strikingly beautiful dried pink roses upon a short, broomstick swag, by way of introducing his abode to her. Somehow, he and it both seemed quite welcoming. Upon closer inspection, as they neared the porch, Rachael noted that a fold of ivory lace also graced that door creation, causing her to wonder just who the creator was that fashioned such a lovely bit of charm for this weary traveler to feast her eyes upon at arrival time. However, she did not ask about it, and later, she would be thankful that she hadn’t.

  With a strange feeling now affecting her, as if butterflies were fluttering in her stomach, she gladly welcomed this rest from the rocking motion of the coach. The very thought of that gentle, yet sickening movement, of this being her new temporary home, and of leaving Mother, Grandmother Rachael, sisters, and Great Aunt Millie, made her now feel a bit ill. With a pounding head, heart, too, she moved forward, for resolve was hers to claim. For awhile, at least, she would be so very brave, enough to ‘make the most of it,’ as Grandmother Rachael had always lovingly told her and her sisters to try to do, in that bubbling, musical tone of hers. Rachael missed her dreadfully already.

  “We shall sit a spell and have mint tea on the veranda as soon as you are ready, Miss Hathaway,” the gentleman employer cheerily informed her, in a matter-of-fact way, which actually gave the impression of a kind, commanding general. “It’s shaded,” he added in a convincing, authoritative way.

  Trying her best to avoid his eyes, since she thought pain resided there, or perhaps it was merely exhaustion, she quickly looked away, while trying to hold tears at bay. Gracefully lifting the hem of her favorite black flannel dress a bit, so she wouldn’t trip, the new nanny noted that the fabric seemed a trifle too heavy for this warmer climate. Little did she dream, however, that the garment would be just perfect attire in a few short days, for this area was simply experiencing false spring.

  Carefully, she maneuvered to the doorway threshold, as she suddenly missed all things familiar: sewing together, chores, birdsong, laughter, the animals, Grace, their cat, favorite family foods, the pickle crock, Shepherd Dog’s greetings and puppies, the orchard, and the songs they sang. Glancing briefly at the long covered porch, a welcoming feature here, she felt that it also seemed inviting, a perfect place to get to know the young child she would be attending. She imagined herself and her young charge, Mr. and Mrs. Davis’ daughter, enjoying time here, while getting to know one another. Reading to the youngster one of the books she had quickly created to entertain and teach her, would be sheer delight amongst these flowers, hummingbirds, birds on the wing, and the interesting little dragonflies which now darted to greet her. A pair of white rockers seemed especially created and placed for that purpose and those upcoming times. They brought a smile. “I remember rocking my younger cousins in chairs like those, and being rocked in one myself,” she explained.

  Smiling, he shook his head in silent agreement.

  Chasing fear from her racing mind, the young brunette grabbed her falling embroidery hoop, as she nodded approval at his invitation for tea. Thrilled that the tea would be mint, her favorite, she also hoped desperately that someone would throw in a well-made ham or turkey sandwich, with pickles and lettuce, and perhaps a bowl of delicious chicken soup. The thought of being a little greedy for food right now made her giddy. She stifled a laugh, hoping he hadn’t heard. Finally, she sighed, and he did hear that. “I fear traveling does make me hungry.”

  “Welcome.” Another friendly voice and smile greeted her just inside the front door. This young woman was probably his wife, she surmised. Rachael smiled back sincerely, as the pretty lady offered her hand. Instantly, Rachael nearly dissolved in excitement, for, now she knew that she was meeting a new friend. Intuition told her as much.

  “Hello, Mrs. Davis. It’s a great pleasure to meet you. I’m Rachael Hathaway.” Inhaling a deep breath, the nineteen year old soon-to-be nanny prepared to enter a new world, a working one, for real pay. Although she considered herself a fake, since she had never before served in such a capacity, this decision would stand, for very soon, it would be true. Thus, it would also cause her life to be transformed by challenges, goals, old and new, along with friends, triumphs, delightful awakenings, and memorable experiences. Somehow, she did not feel doomed here. Instead, excited by the path which lay ahead, she pictured herself writing those long letters home about all of this, staying connected to her previous life and loved ones, while guiding and teaching a baby. Every vestige of fear would soon disappear, she hoped.

  Her employer and the young woman both smiled. “This is Miss Mariah, my housekeeper.” Mr. Davis interrupted her musings with a strong, yet gentle voice. “She will attend to your needs and show you to your room. When you are ready, please join us.” He turned abruptly and again a limp was apparent.

  Walking the long hallway toward the stairway, she first passed a living area that she would learn was actually his well-stocked library. But for now, she was intent on finding where her room and haven were located. That’s where her magnificent world of peace and quiet would dwell, she thought to herself. Up the stairs Rachael went, yet, not for long. Being unfamiliar with this particular staircase, she hurried a little too quickly. All at once, she stubbed a toe. To her dismay, a tumble began, which she could not control, scattering handbag, satchel, embroidery, and snack across the wide stairwell. Down the stairs she slid. Letting out a small scream, she unintentionally caught the attention of her employer and the housekeeper, while onto the polished hallway she fell in an embarrassing, half spin.

  “Oh, my cinnamon rolls!”

  Mr. Davis was there immediately, kneeling, although smiling, stifling laughter. “Are you hurt?”

  “No, not at all” she fibbed, for she felt only a small amount of pain, along with a huge amount of engulfing embarrassment, as she noticed his concern and inappropriate good humor.

  “I’m so sorry. I’m not laughing at you, only at your comment, since I have never before heard anyone call out, ‘Oh, my cinnamon rolls!’ during a fall.”

  His housekeeper and butler were polite, while helping her rise. Mr. Davis went to gather some of her things. “Are you able to make it into my library just down the hall?”

  “Yes, but my amusing comment was one of concern for my baking gift. I have brought cinnamon rolls to offer you all, upon my arrival today,” she indignantly explained, adding, “This is not the way I intended to present them, however.”

  “Oh,” her employer replied.

  “The rolls are in my satchel,” she quietly told them, as they traversed the hallway.

  “How lovely,” Miss Mariah remarked, holding Rachael’s arm to steady her.

  “Ye
s, indeed,” Mr. Davis agreed, while turning to point to a settee where she should sit.

  Rachael seated herself in the interesting room and glanced around for her bags. Miss Mariah knelt beside her, sympathetically, for which she was grateful. Then, the housekeeper added, “I’ll find your satchel, Miss Hathaway. It was placed near the library door.”

  “May I?” John Davis now asked, startling his new nanny.

  “May you what?” she returned, halfway disgusted, not understanding his question.

  “I beg your pardon. I mean no disrespect, Miss Hathaway. May I see your ankle, for surely you have sprained or broken it? I need to know in order that I may summon our doctor. I’ve promised your mother to take very good care of you. Miss Mariah, we will need a cold cloth, please. Is there any ice left?” He was abrupt in comment, command, and questions, almost issuing orders.

  The housekeeper answered, “I’ll check.” With a cheerful smile, she hurried away, as if used to his demeanor.

  Rachael reluctantly answered. “I do believe you are correct. Yes, you may inspect my foot, for I believe I have injured it.”

  At once, the front doorknocker was being sounded, just as her employer inspected Rachael’s ankle. He nodded and his butler hurried from the room to attend to the arriving guest.

  “Thank you,” she managed to say, as her right ankle began to throb, swell, and grow hot. Gritting her teeth in painful gratitude, she admitted, “It does throb a bit.”

  He returned her smile. “Of course, it would. Again, I am so sorry. I should have helped you upstairs.”

  “Oh, no, sir, that wasn’t necessary.” It was then she saw the blood on his trouser leg as he knelt, which made her gasp in horror at the very thought of perhaps causing an injury to him in some way. Yet, how could that be? She wasn’t even near him when she fell. Perhaps her bags were too heavy or had scratched him in some way.

  “The cinnamon treats are in that bag, sir, but they probably can not hold a candle to your wife’s baking.” She tried to change the subject in order to meet his spouse and child, hoping that both would appear at any moment.

  “Here’s your bag,” Miss Mariah responded.

  “Where’s John? I need to check on him!” a loud voice boomed, as Mr. Davis and Rachael looked in the direction of the library entrance to see Miss Mariah barely squeeze behind the outspoken man. Rachael laid her head back in fatigue, allowing her employer to apply the cold cloth from his housekeeper to her painful, throbbing ankle.

  “What a predicament.” The words too easily slipped from Rachael’s lips before she could even consider ceasing them, since she was used to having her say at home and not worrying about being misunderstood. Closing her eyes to this situation, as if that could help make it disappear, she not only wanted to hide somewhere, not meet all of his inquisitive friends, she wanted to go home, immediately.

  “Nonsense, there is no predicament at all. Now, is that better?” her employer asked, smiling warmly, while waving a hand for the man to wait in the hall, as he applied the soothing, cooling cloth. Next, he offered a footstool for his newest hire to rest her foot upon.

  “Thank you. That is nice.” Mortified by this mishap upon arrival, and the very thought of meeting guests this way, she could feel a hot blush rising from throat to face. “Perhaps I should just go to my room now,” she suggested in a cheery whisper. “After all, you do have a guest.”

  “Who do we have here?” a man in a well-tailored tan suit asked, while removing his jacket. Crane silently took the garment from him to place upon the tall coat tree.

  Mr. Davis rose and hurried to the man, taking him by one shoulder, turning him aside, away from the injured nanny.

  “Hey, cousin, I didn’t mean anything by it. No disrespect intended at all, miss.”

  To their amazement, John Davis fell, clenching his teeth, clutching his leg.

  Rachael let out a small scream, once again, uncertain of what to expect.

  “Here, man, let me help you into your chair.” The guest and butler managed to get her employer settled, then the cheerful butler and housekeeper hurried away saying they would bring tea.

  “You’ve got to see Doc Evans, again,” the cousin commanded, in a hushed tone, as if they shared some secret, and since he obviously had seen the blood, too. “Bring bandages, will you please, Crane?” he called toward the hall after him. Next, he shot a glance at Rachael and smiled cordially, reassuringly.

  She felt responsible. “Perhaps I’ve injured your leg in some way, Mr. Davis,” she called sympathetically. Oh, what a nightmare this is turning out to be, she thought, watching the two cousins. “I shall be ready to return home at sunrise tomorrow, sir,” she quickly informed him, hoping to change the situation for the better by her departure, and earnest in hoping that she could actually do that very thing.

  “On the contrary, I’ll have none of that,” Mr. Davis replied.

  His reaction surprised her. “I dare say, I do not wish to leave you without an attendant for your daughter, sir, but I seem to have interfered and caused such a scene of disruption.”

  He disputed her words, immediately. “You have done no such thing, Miss Hathaway. You shall rest this week, a month, if necessary. My little Lily is away at her grandparents for now, anyway. We must not rush your healing, or hers.” His voice seemed to break, yet he came across firm in his conviction, convinced of his belief that she must stay at Magnolia Gardens, at least for now.

  “Or yours, John. We must not rush your healing, either. So, this is the new nanny,” the cousin respectfully acknowledged. Next, he came forth to bow before Rachael, offering a hand to shake in introduction. “What a pleasure this is. May I have your name, please?”

  John Davis came to his feet, glaring. “This is Miss Hathaway and she will be with us for some time, Emery. Now, let’s leave her to rest. She’s had a bad fall.” He didn’t make much effort to introduce them or explain the circumstances. Instead, he only offered half of an introduction, which was just not customary in polite circles, as far as Rachael Hathaway was concerned.

  She nodded, as the cousin shook her hand too long. But, perhaps that is the customary way of doing things here, she thought to herself. Then, with a swish of her colorful skirt, Miss Mariah entered and interrupted, a welcome relief for Rachael, arriving with a tray of food, teas, and cookies, making an effort to come between the cousin and nanny, offering Rachael a plate and some of the delicacies.

  Immediately, Crane, carrying the China teapot, following the maid, was called by another rap at the door, and the cavalcade continued, at least in Rachael’s tired mind. Nibbling, she quickly turned her attention to the food.

  “Sandwiches and tea to save the day, if not the family ties,” John’s cousin announced.

  Was it a hint of humor or sarcasm, Rachael wondered?

  “Thanks for stopping by.” John excused his cousin with nearly a warning, brushing him off while nodding at Miss Mariah, as she placed the tray before him on the large dark walnut desk where he was seated. “We shall move our picnic inside today, Miss Hathaway, on account of our injuries, if that meets with your approval. We must not have you walking far on that injured limb until after the doctor sees it and makes his assessment, although I believe it’s only a sprain. Rest assured.”

  “Then, I don’t believe I need to see a doctor, sir,” she contested, straightening her posture.

  “As if you could not tend to it yourself, surgeon Davis,” his cousin remarked, causing Rachael to continue to be mesmerized by this interaction between the two kin, and to wonder if Mr. Davis was indeed a surgeon, as she tasted a sandwich quarter, complete with cucumber slices and lettuce.

  “Certainly indoors is fine, sir. Are there pickles?” She asked that question, trying to lighten the mood. “That just slipped out, as my thoughts turned to family gatherings around the pickle crocks at home on Bower Farm,” she explained. Instantly
, she was disgusted with herself for trying to sound funny and ending up, in her mind at least, being rude. “I’m sorry,” she laughed, placing her right hand over her errant mouth. “I did not mean to appear rude or come across as demanding, in any way, Mr. Davis. It’s just that we tease a lot back home on the family farm.”

  “Quite the contrary, Miss Hathaway, for you are not being rude at all. Don’t you see that I’m laughing, as well? They are in the pink side dish and they are delicious. Let me bring them to you. They go well with cinnamon rolls,” he quipped, chuckling.

  She laughed, and wrinkled her nose. “Oh, I don’t think so.”

  “I’ll bet our pickles could even give Bower Farm pickles a run for their money,” he insisted.

  They, his staff, and even his cousin laughed at his rivaling comment, which quickly lightened the mood very well, for the moment, this afternoon at tea. In the meantime, John’s cousin had moved to lean against the white, unlit, smooth river rock fireplace, watching, a wry smile etched upon his face, as if he was not about to be dismissed so easily. He didn’t seem as friendly as his host. But perhaps that was a misconception, Rachael thought to herself, since she had only just met the man.

  “Miss Hathaway, may I introduce my Cousin Emery?” Her employer hobbled to her with pink pickle dish in hand. Reaching for the dish caused her to wince in pain.

  “He lives just down the road from us,” her employer further explained, motioning north.

  “I see.”

  His butler returned, handing him a folded note. But instead of reading it in front of everyone, their employer moved to place the message upon his desk to be read at a later time. He then caught the attention of his housekeeper and butler, as they turned to leave the room together. “Please stay, Crane and Miss Mariah. You may certainly join us for a picnic tea this afternoon, if you like,” he told the pair with a friendly smile. In return, joy was apparent upon their faces. “Let’s fix our plates, then pull chairs over to join Miss Hathaway,” he instructed, hoping this gesture would make the new staff member feel more comfortable here after such a tumultuous fall. “Cousin Emery, you are welcome to stay and join us, as well, for we have much to discuss. We must each tell Miss Hathaway how pleasant it is here in this area of Twelve Ponds Territory.”