Sanctuary

by Alene Adele Roy

  “I’m sorry, Dr. Davis. I meant to show respect. In fact, I didn’t realize you were a doctor.”

  “I know. I was remiss in not conveying that fact to you, since I didn’t think it important. But please don’t call me doctor, either. Why don’t you call me John, instead?” he asked, in a sincere manner.

  “Yes, John instead, I can do that,” she teased, though not wishing to offend him, trying out her own bit of humor for his benefit. Remaining silent for a moment or two while awaiting his response, she took a deep breath. Then, she went to sit in the overstuffed chair near the window table, thinking, ‘be dutiful,’ as she heard his laughter. “John will be fine, if that’s what you prefer,” she informed her employer, thinking it was all a little bit odd, though. Perhaps it was just his sincere way of making her feel even more comfortable, she thought. Still, she didn’t offer to let him call her by her first name.

  John Davis chuckled while studying the rug below his feet, not knowing quite how to respond to this newest member of his household staff. Finally, he shot her a puzzled glance. “Good. Oh, and here. Let me get the foot stool for you to raise your injured limb. That helps in the case of a sprain.”

  Rachael laughed. “I’m not used to having my ankle referred to as a ‘limb,’ John.”

  She surprised him, and he was pleased at her addressing him by his first name. His smile told her as much. “After this, I shall address your limb as an ankle, Miss Hathaway,” he laughed.

  His departure gave Rachael time to redo her upswept hair and unpack some of her clothing. At this time she also pondered the mysteries she had learned of ~ the missing horses and cargo. Did someone steal both? Who could it have been? She also wondered about John’s wound, which he tried so diligently to make light of, and what was the morale-boosting, surprise which would soon be awaiting him?

  Tired, she decided to rest, and soon dozed into a peaceful afternoon nap. She awoke refreshed. No coach or horses had been heard arriving this afternoon, unless they came silently while she was sleeping. So, she wondered whether there was to be a guest, after all. Suddenly, Rachael became nervous as the dinner hour approached. Within a few minutes, the doctor’s help came to escort her at the appointed time, while she pondered complimenting his singing tonight.

  Her employer was lighting table candles, encircled by glass cylinders, which reflected intricate light patterns throughout the room, warming it. He stood, nostalgic, remembering the times he’d done it in the past, when he and Rose had dined during their engagement and short marriage, before the war. He could hardly believe she was gone. He drew a deep breath, while remembering he had to be cordial.

  “Rose died of influenza while I was away. I could do nothing about it. I couldn’t save her. How could that happen?” he asked absentmindedly, but realized he was speaking to a woman who hardly knew of his circumstances.

  “I don’t know, sir.” Rachael was glad that he was talking about his life, though sad he’d had grief. How can I lighten the mood, she wondered? Maybe I don’t need to do so. “My condolences go to you, Dr. Davis.”

  It seemed to be just the right thing to say to him. He smiled slightly and shrugged his broad shoulders. “Anyway, we shall enjoy our dinner tonight.” He pulled out a chair for her, the one to his immediate right. “Is this too close for comfort?” he questioned.

  She laughed. “No, sir, I’m brave.” Rachael now grinned at his apparent concern and question.

  He laughed heartily. “It’s John, please, not doctor, not sir, just John.”

  “Yes, John please,” she replied, giggling. Next, she watched as he put his head back and laughed with her. It had been the right thing for her to say, evidently, and the right thing for him to do, too, laugh.

  Instantly, distant laughter jarred their thoughts, as Crane and Miss Mariah happily arrived in the well-adorned dining room, obviously happy about some private joke, or, perhaps, at hearing laughter in the manor once again. It brought John Davis a feeling of repetition and normalcy, and he immediately became the perfect host-employer, putting sadness behind him for the ease of others.

  Miss Mariah smiled up at Crane, a sweet enough smile that it caused Rachael Hathaway to immediately wonder about these two. Was their budding romance one of the household secrets she would soon learn about, too? Did the doctor know? What about all of these chairs at this table? Did the Davis household host that many people very often, she wondered? Time would tell. For now, she tried to imagine what the dinner conversation should be about this first night here ~ gardens, horses, no.

  John nodded for Crane and Miss Mariah to place the dish prepared by Emma and a spring salad from his kitchen garden on the table, which Rachael thought was too strict of him. If she had her way, she’d quickly change the rules to make the dinner table an even friendlier place by inviting the help to dine with them for every meal. She also wanted to cook and garden. Oh, she had so many plans to consider.

  “Did you get some rest?” her employer asked, after he had said grace.

  He seems to know what to ask. I’ll follow his lead. “Yes, and I was just wondering when I shall be able to see where the dragonflies soar, for, I’ve noted that you have some here?”

  “Soon, I hope. Those four-winged, flying insects are always near the pond. Perhaps dinner and some rest will make your foot well again, so we can venture there in a few days.”

  “I would love to venture there. Those creatures have always amazed me at the bog. I’m sure dinner, rest, and your singing will help me heal, so that I may see your watering hole soon,” she explained, in a serious tone.

  He began to laugh. Her words seemed to amuse him even further, as he offered her the salad. “My watering hole, my singing will heal you, and what about a bog? It would seem that we have much to discuss this evening, Miss Hathaway.”

  “I was just explaining that we see dragonflies in a nearby area which drains poorly. I call it Mystic Bog. Well, my family calls it Blueberry Bog.” She was quite serious.

  He laughed openly as he offered her the casserole dish. “Oh, ours can be found at our watering hole, which is called Dragonfly Pond, just down the path. Now, what is this about my singing?”

  “I enjoyed your song.”

  John handed her the bread basket. “You heard my song? Do you ride?”

  She nearly choked on her serving of salad, since she certainly didn’t want to speak of his horses at this particular time. How can he be side-tracked, keeping their disappearance a secret? What could she possibly say to divert his thoughts from his beloved, missing steeds? Of course, she could always be silly. That often worked at home, with her family.

  He handed her the preserves. Miss Mariah came in to fill their water glasses and left again.

  “Yes, I heard your song. You’re very good. Do you ride?” she asked, playing her silly game.

  “Thank you. Yes, I ride, Miss Hathaway,” was his slow and deliberate reply, after he composed himself.

  “By the way, I concoct a good cacciatore.”

  “That’s wonderful,” he laughed. “But, Miss Hathaway, I was wondering if you like to ride horses? We have several. When I heal, I really wish to gallop to the marsh.”

  “Well, I have ridden in the past.” Rachael was deliberately slow to answer him, while devising her diversion plan. “It’s not my favorite pastime, though, especially now.” Nodding toward her ankle, she smiled, hoping this conversation would succeed in diverting his attention to some other subject.

  “Yes, I do understand about your ankle. What is your favorite pastime for amusement then?”

  “Oh, cooking, sewing, gardening, quilting, reading, and writing letters, would be mine.” She was more than happy to inform him of her list of preferred activities. After all, she couldn’t have him going to the barn, wondering who had taken his racers.

  He hung his head, as if disinterested in those things she mentioned. “Really
, then you are quite accomplished. Since you have mentioned cooking in first place, you must visit with Miss Callie soon, Crane’s mother. She is the best chef in the territory, with many specialties.”

  “I can’t wait to compare recipes, sauces, and such. Our region has its favorites, too. I have a fine stroganoff recipe.” Why am I trying to impress him with recipes, she wondered? All he wants is to ride horses.

  “Oh, by the way, Emma Hoover is an excellent cook, also. You may wish to consult with her about food dishes, as well, when she visits” He quickly began buttering one of Emma’s fruit muffins, as Rachael sighed in relief at having kept him indoors for now. “Here’s a muffin. I do believe she should come to your welcoming tea.”

  “Thank you.” She happily accepted the buttered offering, if not the welcoming tea idea. “I dare say, I’d like for us to take Lily in the carriage, to the market, and for nature walks, of course,” she informed him, while wondering what his reaction would be and what his exact plans were. What does he expect of me? Until now, he’s been fairly vague about that, and after all, I’ve never been a nanny before this employment. I’ve certainly cared for children in the past and loved doing it. I’ve even taught some to sew, cook, and write their name, she thought to herself.

  “I like your ideas,” he admitted, frankly.

  An interruption came before they could further discuss Lily or expectations. A rap of the door-knocker was heard from the front entry, plus an energetic Crane hurrying down the hallway, whistling as he went, preparing to greet the next visitor. John sat nearly motionless, smiling, since he assumed it was Monty. It wasn’t.

  “Captain John Davis, how are you doing, sir? How’s the wound? It’s almost healed, I hope.” A joyous voice greeted their host, spilling some secrets.

  Rachael was impressed. This bold man showed a genuine concern for her employer. Was this the arriving guest Dr. Davis had spoken about earlier? Just now, there had been several more secrets revealed ~ her employer was indeed a doctor and captain, with a wound. She hadn’t been quite sure if Cousin Emery was telling the truth about him being a surgeon or not. But this guest had just further confirmed that both were true. Surprisingly, following behind him was another man.

  “Miss Hathaway, please meet my comrades. Dr. Buddy Callahan and I came up through grammar school together. He’s at Callahan Place on the way to town,” John explained, before turning to the other gentleman. “This is Lieutenant Monty Graham, an old friend. We met in the army.” The two guests shook her hand and bowed.

  John then turned to his housekeeper. “Miss Mariah, please unpack the crystal water goblets, a beautiful wedding gift from my grandparents. This is a very special occasion. So, we might as well put them to good use.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Hathaway,” Dr. Callahan remarked, in the louder of the two voices. “I can assure you that you are going to love Magnolia Gardens. We shall all make sure of that.”

  “Yes, indeed, it is a pleasure,” Lieutenant Graham agreed, in a quieter tone. He continued to stand beside her chair, although his companion was back questioning John from the other side of the table.

  “How did it happen again?” Dr. Callahan asked, in a show of genuine compassion.

  Dr. Davis seemed mortified. He rose. “Excuse me, please, Miss Hathaway, but I’d like to get some dinner for my friends.” Using a cane stashed nearby, he stepped to the sideboard to ring a bell to summon his help. “Dinner is compliments of Mrs. Emma Hoover, tonight, my friends,” he explained to the pair of guests. “Miss Hathaway and I can easily attest that everything is delicious. Oh, Crane did pick fresh lettuce for a salad, and I have just learned that Miss Hathaway creates chicken cacciatore.”

  She smiled and rose to hobble to the settee for her forgotten handkerchief left there. He had listened. The lieutenant asked if he might assist her in any way, yet she declined his offer, explaining that her injury “is just a sprained ankle.”

  “It’s not exactly dinner talk, Buddy,” John quietly told his lifelong friend, extending his hand to imply where they should sit for dinner, while explaining his thoughts about his wounded leg. Still, Buddy gazed toward his wound. John again rang the bell to summon Crane and ask for more dinner plates, silverware, tea, and bread, as the two guests settled at the table. “Did you have a message for me, Monty?”

  The lieutenant nodded affirmatively, yet with Crane approaching, he merely fell silent.

  Rachael eyed the handsome army officer, wondering what was so imperative that he had to come in person to speak with her employer, especially since the war was over. Would she learn of his message eventually, she wondered?

  “I’m sorry to disturb you, but there is someone at the door, hungry, asking for food, doctor,” Crane announced in a near whisper.

  The diners heard and turned to learn of John’s decision. Their host eyed his two guests and Miss Rachael Hathaway, debating.

  “It’s a mission of mercy, John. We can speak of it later,” Lieutenant Graham quietly interjected, with a warm smile. It was unclear whether he was referring to the mission message he had been commissioned to deliver, or was he referring to the hungry person waiting at the door?

  Directly, John took Monty’s words to heart. Without further delay, he excused himself from the table, took his cane, and followed Crane, returning in just a few moments with a third guest.

  “This is Mr. Cunningham. He will be joining us for dinner.” Pointing to the chair next to Buddy Callahan, John Davis proceeded to introduce the man to his guests and staff. Meekly, the gentleman shook hands with the others before taking a seat. Once there, they watched as he surveyed his place setting, gently touching the knife and spoon just to the right of his plate. Then he glanced at the fork on the folded napkin to the left of his plate, as if he was well-acquainted with a well-appointed table setting. Sipping his water and smiling, he nodded at the others.

  So much for a quiet evening without guests, Rachael thought to herself, yet did not begrudge the hungry visitor at all, or the others, for that matter. Actually, she was proud of her employer for his snap decision to entertain the stranger, something she would have done herself, if given the opportunity. His scruffy appearance did not offend anyone at this table. As for John’s friends, she could see that they were sincere and welcome.

  Pleasant conversation ensued, to everyone’s delight and entertainment. Even the third guest, probably feeling more refreshed after taking a few bites, took part, yet, without divulging any information about himself, at least in the beginning. Instead, he commented about the food, weather, and transportation, when the opportunity afforded itself. But when the conversation turned to employment, he came to life, stating that he had once obtained work with the Pony Express, in 1860 to 1861.

  “My brother rode for them, also, Mr. Cunningham,” Rachael confirmed, happy to have a subject that she could discuss with the group, while feeling somewhat awkward at being the only female in attendance.

  “It’s the fastest mail service there is,” Mr. Cunningham proudly informed them. “It crosses the challenging High Sierras, the Great Plains, and those rugged and beautiful, Rocky Mountains.”

  “It’s about a 1900 mile route, according to Robert,” Rachael happily told the others, proud that she could divulge that bit of information to them.

  John Davis now took an interest, too. “You have to give those horseback riders much credit, with the stations ten miles apart. That’s a pretty long ride for anyone.”

  “It is,” Lieutenant Graham agreed.

  “They switched horses after each ride to a station, didn’t they?” John asked.

  “Yes, we had to in order to give the horse a rest, and us.” Mr. Cunningham was gaining confidence, with a subject to his liking being discussed, especially since he had prior experience with the job.

  “Anything would need a rest and water after that ride,” John declared with a chuckle. />
  “Plus, we needed a meal. Did you know the mail pouch is called a mochila? That is Spanish for a backpack or pouch,” the newest guest explained.

  “No, but I hear that a letter in that pouch mails for around five dollars, which is pretty costly these days,” explained Buddy Callahan. “I, myself, would not afford that luxury very often.”

  But the lieutenant went to the mail service’s defense. “I would imagine that price is well worth it to some, especially if the nature of the letter is of extreme importance or value, and a speedy delivery is necessary.”

  Dr. Callahan had to agree. “You’ve made a good point, Monty. It’s not at all steep if there is a need.”

  Rachael was happy with this discussion. “The Pony Express Stamp is just beautiful. Have you all seen it? I have one. I’m going to keep mine in my Bible for safekeeping.”

  The lieutenant, sitting next to Rachael, now turned to her. “I’d like to see your stamp, Miss Hathaway, and I have a spectacular one to show you, as well.”

  “I’d like that, Lieutenant Graham.”

  When it was time for dessert, Rachael was asked about her favored choice by her employer.

  “In pies, I have always loved walnut and cherry. But tonight I believe I’d prefer the fruit compote.”

  “That’s another thing we have in common, a love of walnut pie,” Dr. Davis explained with a smile, as if trying to dissuade the others from showing any interest in the nanny. “I shall also have the fruit, please, Crane,” he instructed, after his guests had chosen and been served theirs from Crane’s dessert tray.

  Rachael looked puzzled. What else did they have in common, she wondered?

  “Reading is a common interest,” he related. “We shall do so later.”

  It was as if he had read her mind. She got chills as dessert was being enjoyed by everyone. Trying to conceal a slight smile of amusement and amazement, she wondered why he had said that. How did he know she was wondering about common interests they might share?