Sanctuary

by Alene Adele Roy

  “I want to summon Doc Evans for you, first, John,” his cousin insisted, heading toward the door. “You can probably attend to Miss Hathaway, with all of your military surgeon skills, but not yourself.”

  Rachael gasped slightly at the very thought of surgery, and of her employer being a surgeon. He seemed far too young for such a position, to her way of thinking. She wondered what she had gotten herself into by coming over yonder.

  “I did not mean to imply in any way that you need a surgery, Miss Hathaway,” the cousin now kindly explained, in a gentle, reassuring manner, trying to ease her fears, causing her to think better of him.

  “Stay, please, Emery. You’ll need to eat first before going for Doc Evans. You’ll need energy;” and so it was. At once, John also felt he had something else to do. Gathering his courage, he apologized to Cousin Emery “for losing my temper moments ago. I have absolutely no excuse for it, except possibly pain, and I’m sorry, cousin.”

  His humble, almost pleading apology was immediately accepted by his kin. They shook hands, hugged, and laughed. His closest cousin then quickly went to remove two chairs from the table to be placed near Rachael, for John and himself. Remembering his manners, he then grabbed two more for Crane and Miss Mariah. Addressing Rachael, he next asked if he could bring her something more from the table. She politely declined his offer, holding up her plate still containing cheese, bread, pickles, and fruit. So, he set about filling his own plate with the delicious offerings.

  Her employer, however, prepared another plate for her, insisting, “You can’t be satisfied with just that little dab of nourishment, Miss Hathaway.” He chuckled, handed her the offering, and went to fix his own plate. Although the gathering was brief, without much conversation, it was a pleasant affair. Food and tea made everyone feel jovial. Finally, compliments were sent to the cook, Crane’s mother, Miss Callie, and also given to Rachael, for her contribution of frosted cinnamon rolls.

  “You’ll have to meet Miss Callie. She reigns, queen supreme, over Callie’s Kitchen, here,” a grinning John Davis informed the nanny. “Doesn’t she, Emery? She’s the best, although your cinnamon treats are superb, I must say.”

  “Indeed, her cooking is wonderful, although many in our family have superb cooking skills, too, John, and Miss Hathaway’s cinnamon rolls are heavenly.”

  Just before they were finished, Crane was called away to greet someone else at the door. Within moments, the group glanced up to see a lovely woman ushered into the household, and what John Davis referred to as his ‘favorite room.’

  “Enter, Amber. This is Miss Hathaway,” Rachael’s employer explained, gesturing toward her. But before he could continue the introduction, he was interrupted.

  “This looks like a fine gathering,” the woman announced, quietly. Stopping just a few feet into the room, she studied the diners.

  For some strange reason, it ruffled the John Davis feathers, plus brought grief at the remembrance of his wife and Amber together, everywhere in this house, enjoying life. He missed his little wife so much. She was so beautiful. Everyone loved her, especially he, Lily, and Amber, both sets of parents, grandparents, the neighbors, and their friends at church. John rose and went to gaze through the window onto the veranda and into the gardens, purposely ignoring her, to everyone’s dismay. He had to bite his lip, trying to stifle the grief, not especially wanting any extra company at this time, for he had not even really had time to explain to his new nanny about his loss, or their friend, the widowed Amber Worthington, who might come visiting at any time, and he would not be able to do so at this particular time, in Amber’s presence. So, he decided to let some fresh air inside.

  Surprisingly, opening the door gave entrance to a large, swooping blue dragonfly, which soared inside to land upon the ceiling. Everyone was in awe when they saw it, and it seemed like a sign to some. Yet, what exactly was this sign? Was it a living, good-luck charm, a signal of changes to come at Magnolia Gardens, or simply the promise of springtime? All in attendance were certainly charmed by its presence, as they watched silently, waiting for it to fly again. It did not. Presently, a burst of breeze followed, gently blowing the curtains, sending John’s note swirling from his desk to scoot across the floor and finally rest under the long window draperies, unseen and unread, while everyone watched the dragonfly.

  “Shall we name it?” Cousin Emery asked.

  A smiling Mrs. Worthington instinctively rushed to John’s side to console him. “We could. What about Flyer?”

  She meant well, yet, he didn’t want sympathy, at least not from her. She was a fine lady, a longtime friend and school mate. He knew she’d suffered greatly, too, when her husband died in the war, and then she lost her best friend, Rose, John’s wife. But, for John Davis, it was too soon to be hugged by her, or anyone else outside of the family. He hung his head in shame over his feelings and glanced outside, wishing he could be more receptive to this friend. “We could call it Guest.” He made a stab at humor.

  “Let’s call it Blue.” His cousin saw John’s uneasiness, and struck the nail on the head with his name selection. Immediately, he rose from his chair and went to the lady and his cousin, knowing in his heart that the name he had suggested for the flying insect was quite appropriate for both of them. Gently removing her hand from John’s shoulder, he took both of Amber’s hands in his. “How are you doing, darling?” he asked in a sincere and gentlemanly manner. Weak smiles graced both of their faces. Ever so gently, he brushed the tears from her cheeks with his handkerchief.

  “Fine, Emery” she answered quietly, then added, “No, I’m not at all fine. It’s just so dreadful for me to bear.” She burst into tears. “I miss my Rose so very much. She was like a sister to me. We did everything together. I loved her so, you know.”

  “I know, darling,” he whispered.

  “Let’s call it Dragonfly,” Rachael comically whispered to herself, while laughing silently.

  Everyone saw that Emery was able to give the widow the sympathy she so greatly needed right now. John knew that he could not, at least, not at this moment. Still, he was very grateful to his cousin for comforting their dear friend. He and Amber had both lost partners and best friends, two great losses each. He smiled at Cousin Emery, and his cousin returned a smile and a knowing shake of his head. Emery motioned toward the gardens. “Amber, will you accompany me on a garden stroll before I ride to fetch the doctor for John and Miss Rachael Hathaway, who has fallen?” he asked. The widow smiled affectionately, took his offered arm, and agreed.

  This gesture made Rachael long to stroll into those gardens, as well, seeking colors, forms, scents, new flowers, new paths, and perhaps even new ideas. In time, I shall, she thought to herself, if I stay here long enough. But thoughts now turned to the compassion she’d seen in her employer’s cousin and the apparent loss for words in her employer. She’d also noted Mr. Davis’ gesture of genuine friendship toward his butler and housekeeper, and his protectiveness of her, his aspiring new nanny. She studied this close knit group, similar to the one embraced at home, within her very own family and friendships. Perhaps she could fit into this society someday, or maybe she would simply return home to find a job with pay comparable to this. In these hard times, though, jobs were difficult to obtain. She knew that, which was exactly enough to convince her to just give this challenging new position and the family situation here some time.

  Suddenly, the doctor was in front of her, offering to find her a book to read until Doc Evans, his family physician, arrived to examine her ankle. “It could be a long wait for my doctor friend, especially if he’s out on another situation. He covers a wide area within Twelve Ponds Territory, Miss Hathaway.”

  “I prefer poetry, mostly,” was her quick reply, a confident smile embracing her face, trying to ignore his comments about the doctor, not wishing to see Doc Evans, actually.

  “Oh.” He strode to one corner of his bookcase and sel
ected a volume, which impressed her greatly. He certainly knew his expansive book inventory. “You may like this one, then, and let me get you one of my favorite quilts to make you more comfortable. My mother created it.”

  “Such nice work,” Rachael attested, cheerfully, while studying the intricate pattern found upon the piece, when he handed it to her.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Why, thank you. I try,” he joked, and they both laughed.

  “Sir, I was referring to your mother’s needlework.” Rachael couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Oh,” was all he said, cocking his head, smiling.

  She laughed again. Clearing her throat, she pulled the blanket over her legs. “I am quite good with a needle myself, sir,” she explained, referring to her own sewing ability. “You’ll see that someday, I believe.”

  He grinned. “I’m sure I will. It’s John, though, and I’ll look forward to that. By the way, I am also quite good with a needle, if I do say so myself, Miss Hathaway,” he remarked, referring to his doctoring and surgical experience and skills, without divulging much else.

  She laughed softly. “I shall never ask you to perform and prove your sewing abilities for me, Dr. Davis, I can assure you.”

  “Fine, but I’m quite certain that I’ll learn of yours, someday, Miss Hathaway.”

  “I do love this tea,” Rachael complimented, trying to change the subject.

  “I’m so happy to hear that, which gives me an idea. I should host a tea to introduce you.”

  “Oh, no, sir, that won’t be necessary. I can assure you,” she protested.

  “I believe it is. You know tea mostly comes from China, but we also have some mint from which we gather leaves for it here. We dry them.” He was hoping to catch her interest, making her feel at home.

  “That’s nice, but I would not be comfortable with a tea in my honor.” She noted that he obviously was used to and enjoyed having his way and the last word. But, at this point in time, she would definitely not let him have it his way, just now.

  “Very well, Miss Hathaway, for I can certainly understand your point of view. I might not feel comfortable with a tea held in my behalf, either. We can surely discuss this at a later time.”

  So it was that he did have the last word, but deferred to her protest, which greatly impressed her. Crane then appeared before the doctor to inform him that there were “even more new guests arriving.”

  At once, John Davis strode to shake hands with them. In a moment, he politely introduced her to two more of his friends. “Sheriff Joe Turner and Pastor Albert Hoover, I’d like to introduce to you Lily’s new nanny, Miss Rachael Hathaway from Bower.”

  After pleasantries were exchanged amongst them, the pastor surprisingly informed everyone that they had just returned from a search. “We were summoned to the wharf because a partial shipment from a boat, which remains to be identified, seems to be missing.”

  “We checked a docked sternwheeler carefully and rode along Blue Slough on our horses for a time, yet didn’t actually know quite what we were looking for. In all of the confusion, the deck hands could not really tell us what was in those boxes or how many were missing from the cargo,” the sheriff further explained. “So, for now, until we can speak with the captain on this matter tomorrow morning, it certainly does appear that we have our very own mystery at Spice Dock.”

  Chapter Two

  Although the pastor and sheriff took tea and cookies, they didn’t stay long. Soon, Miss Callie, Miss Mariah, and butler Crane began to silently clear John’s work table and desk, carrying away the array of dishes, the China tea service, and leftover food. Pleasant smiles graced their faces, despite the fact that they were at work, especially when they stole glances at Lily’s nanny. One of them began humming a sweet, lilting tune, which was well received by everyone in attendance. It mimicked the songbird’s tune expressed from the pink rosebush outside, its scent drifting in to them through an open window and the veranda door.

  “Your cinnamon rolls are just wonderful, Miss Hathaway, so light and tasty,” remarked Miss Mariah over her shoulder, as she retreated with dishes in hand. “I’d love your recipe, someday.”

  “Thank you, but please call me Rachael.” She wished to be friendly right from the start.

  “I believe the door should remain open for now for that poor little misled dragonfly, don’t you?” her employer asked with a chuckle, addressing no one in particular. The others nodded in agreement.

  Rachael relaxed some with the unexpected music, compliment, and good humor shown by everyone. Stretching, she began to read. However, that stretching motion pulled her ankle tendons, causing such pain that it made her moan quietly. “Oh.”

  This immediately brought Dr. Davis to attention. He, at least, had heard her, which served him notice that he had responsibilities to this young woman, his employee, who had come a very long way to become a part of his household. Turning from the door, he was happy he’d seen his cousin comforting Amber Worthington just now, taking good care of her, as the pair strolled along Veranda Path. John could allow that, but presently his attention was fixed upon Miss Rachael Hathaway. “May I assist you in any way?” he asked, concern etched upon his usually tranquil face.

  “No, I’m fine. I just had a small pain. But you could sit and explain just how you acquired all of those lovely volumes in your impressive bookcase over yonder. I love to read. We did that at home many evenings,” she confided, gazing at the intriguing profusion of books gracing his nearby bookshelves. Trying to survey and read the titles, she squinted and laughed, while those names upon the spines and covers remained elusive secrets, for now, from this distance.

  He returned a cordial smile. “You do?” he asked quietly, amazed at her interest. “Then we must read of an evening. After dinner tonight, we shall enjoy a fine reading hour.”

  His insistence took on a very definite, nearly commanding tone, causing her to smile. Yet, his suggestion certainly met with her approval. At this, she studied him and his mannerisms and found no offense to his decisive ways, at this particular time, that is. In fact, she definitely found it fascinating that he had suggested and immediately arranged for an hour of reading so quickly, although he probably had a demanding schedule. “Yes, we often read the letters we have written to Father or my brother or those received from them and others, or books we’ve borrowed or purchased.” She felt better for having had this conversation with him. Still, she would soon find that he wasn’t finished yet, even though they were simply making acquaintances.

  “Would you prefer for the tea to remain, or should I make a fresh pot, although it is still warm under the tea cozy?” Miss Callie questioned.

  “It may remain, but please make a fresh pot, too, since Dr. Evans will be arriving soon.”

  “Yes, Dr. Davis, I shall make a new pot of a different tea,” was her congenial reply.

  Grabbing a richly-colored tapestry covered chair near the fireplace, he pulled it toward the settee. Taking a seat on it, he presently began to reveal some details about his life. “When we used to go to The Market On The Main, we often came home with a book or two, even some for Lily. Some of these were also gifts from family or friends. We haven’t read them all. I mean, I haven’t.” He looked away, his thoughts drifting somewhere unknown to Rachael.

  “I understand.” She wondered just what their reading taste encompassed.

  “However, we shall begin tonight, if you are willing,” he quietly continued. “We shall read our way through them. Actually, we could take turns reading. Anyone in the household is invited.” He raised his voice a little so his help would hear of this plan on their way out, a new plan for all of them. “That includes you three, Miss Callie, Miss Mariah, and Crane, my friends, if you wish.” He smiled at the idea, warming to it. They did, too. “If you have books or passages from letters that you’d like to read, please be sure to bring them along with you, and do so.�
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  “That sounds interesting,” his cook informed him. “I’ll be there. I have a letter from my Aunt Sally that I’ll share parts of with you, since she writes about the drought they are having and how it has affected crops, animals, birds, and their water supply.”

  “Oh, please do,” Rachael responded, quite in agreement, spilling enthusiasm at both the letter’s message and at her employer’s initial impromptu invitation. “It shall be better than merely being upstairs alone in my room this first night here,” she bravely confided. “After all, I am used to being with people and my family.”

  “Yes, please do bring your letter, Miss Callie. We shall all enjoy it, and I also have a mystery to tell you about tonight, or, we do. Don’t we, Miss Hathaway? We learned of such just awhile ago from our own trustworthy sheriff and pastor, while they were here visiting. It has to do with some mysterious missing items. Well, I shall say no more for now, because the matter will be that much more intriguing after dark,” their employer teased, by offering just a hint of the details to arouse their curiosity in hopes of their company later at the fireside.

  Rachael’s eyes met with his, as they both silently nodded in agreement, sharing the secret.

  “That does sound incredible. You will have me wondering all through dinner,” Miss Mariah exclaimed.