As he turned to join arms with Emma, he kissed her on the cheek, setting a fine example of his love. A cheer was heard throughout Velvet Villa Village that springtime day, as the crowd appreciated his speech at a difficult time in America’s history, as well as his show of affection for his lady. Now, the ready marchers slowly began to move onto the flower-lined path, which on normal days was called, ‘Dogwood Lane.’
“I find the locomotive to be one of the most fascinating and useful advances in history, don’t you, Monty and Buddy?” John asked, as his friends and family happily walked together. He had been wishing to discuss this with them since the trip to Washington. “The power of trains and railways fascinates me.”
“I do, and I’m also drawn to learn more about the internal combustion engine that J.J. Etienne Lenor, an engineer from France built. It was a gasoline-powered engine, a double acting, spark-ignition one, a marvel, really, invented in 1859,” Monty Graham informed his friends. Yet, others heard, as well.
“I’m really quite pleased with my new bread box, my favorite helpmate,” Emma turned to say with a chuckle, after hearing the men’s conversation on advancements. “Albert created it.”
Pastor Hoover acknowledged her compliment with a nod and a smile, yet, had more to say on engines. “Not to change the subject, but I have heard that a Dutch physicist, Christian Huygens, in about the year 1680, was the first one to experiment with the internal combustion engine.”
“I believe it shall go far,” Dr. Callahan commented. “But your plow is one great tool, too, John.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m quite fond of my postage stamps, and did you know that as of May first the postage rate for letters will drop from two cents to one for a one half ounce letter?” Rachael explained in amazement.
“Why do you care, dear? I’m here now and you don’t have to write to me.” Phoebe teased as she linked arms with her sister. Then, she cheerfully added, “Of course, you could write to me and just drop it at my door, probably outside your room. By the way, I have a new button hook and it’s my favorite new toy.” Amber Worthington and her mother agreed that theirs were favorites, too.
“I’ll write a letter, just for you,” Rachael laughed. “However, I shall be writing to my other dear sister, Viola, too, and Mother and everyone else at home. Now I can write twice as many letters.”
“Of course, and you should. Perhaps you might even write to our new president, as well,” was Phoebe’s next witty suggestion. “Oh, and did I tell you Viola’s favorite thing is the new butter churn?”
“No. But why would I possibly write the president, Phoebe?” Rachael asked, while laughing at the very thought of it, shaking her well-coiffed head.
“You must write to him about what a lovely springtime this is, and ask for his chicken and dumplings recipe. Then give him your apple tart instructions in return.”
“Why, he wouldn’t send me a chicken and dumpling formula.” Rachael was serious for a moment, but when Phoebe broke into laughter, she did, too.
“You might write to him congratulations,” was John’s suggestion.
“We all might do such,” Monty then suggested.
Everyone enjoyed the bantering between the two happy Hathaway sisters on this reunion day. At once, Miss Callie and Miss Mariah joined the sisters. “Well, I just love my new stove. I could write to him about that,” the Magnolia Gardens cook informed the others. “It’s so much larger. It can handle a crowd now much better, and it’s a real springtime blessing.”
“It has to be to feed this bunch,” Monty explained with a laugh, and they all agreed.
“And we love doing just that! Don’t we, John?” Miss Callie asked her longtime employer.
He nodded in agreement. “We do, indeed, enjoy entertaining our family and friends.”
“Well, I love my new sewing machine Emma and Albert gave me for my birthday,” Aggie added.
At once, she and Rachael engaged in a lively discussion about sewing, fabrics, and fashions.
“Well, I’m waiting for us to get the new ice box I saw at Merry Market,” Miss Mariah added.
Just then, the walking group arrived at a field of swaying, spring grasses deemed, ‘Egg Hunt Lair,’ according to a temporary sign. “Why did someone deem this a ‘lair?’” Phoebe questioned.
The pastor explained, just before he told the rules: “Lair was chosen only for lack of another word. Emma and I thought it fitting, since it refers to an animal’s resting place, because we’ve seen bunnies, birds, and butterflies here, and we thought the adults would rest while the children found eggs. Perhaps it was not such a good name, after all,” he admitted.
“No, it’s a wonderful name!” Aggie agreed, supporting their choice.
“Thank you, Aggie,” Pastor Albert responded, nodding his approval of her approval. “Now, let’s get started and have some fun. Children, please be courteous and include the little ones, and go gather eggs!” he told the eager youngsters.
So, they did just that. While they hurried and hunted, having a wonderful time at it, the pastor told the waiting parents what those eggs had been tinted with to safely get the beautiful colors. “Pink ones were dipped into beet juice. The yellow ones were placed in tea. Red eggs were dunked into cherry juice. The blue ones were tinted from grape juice. Purple eggs lay in crushed, blooming violets. For the black eggs, we used blackberries, and the light orange eggs were dipped into carrot juice.”
“Good,” replied several parents, responding to his informative teachings and attention to safety.
“Great work,” John Davis complimented his friend, while shaking his hand. “But you really should have asked us for help, Albert.”
“Thanks, John, but it helped Emma and I to get into the spirit of things, after the children were in bed last evening.”
“It’s a sheer delight to watch those little ones searching so intently for the pastel treasures,” remarked Monty.
All of the adults happily watched and supervised the young egg hunters. Squeals of joy echoed as eggs were found and recovered. Once, Quinny frightened several birds into flight, to everyone’s amazement and delight, and he was tempted to follow some of them. John Davis bemoaned the fact that he did not have his red spyglasses for viewing quail at the edge of Quail Egg Run. “See, they’re scattering in all directions, realizing they had better retreat from this party, not join it,” he laughed, pointing.
His father placed an arm around his shoulders, rocking him slightly. “How’s your leg?”
“It’s getting better.”
“Look, some of the children have put down their baskets to follow quail or butterflies,” a distressed Emma noted, moving to correct them. “Let’s go help them get back to searching.”
So, they did. Finally, the collected eggs were counted. Emma reported that only three were still missing this year. “It seems every year there are a few missing eggs,” she told Rachael and Phoebe. “But sometimes they miraculously are found later.” She winked, as if she may have had a part in their recovery.
Pastor Hoover once again addressed the crowd in order to present the prize to a young lady with the most eggs. He handed her a wooden rabbit statue and an ornate box, which he and Emma had lovingly created weeks ago, just for this occasion. “Miss Elizabeth Martin, thank you for coming today and for setting such a fine example with your excellent manners while Easter egg hunting. This Easter bunny and wooden box for your treasures are for you from Mrs. Hoover and I.”
The little girl happily accepted the prizes from him, with a huge grin on her face and help from her father in order to carry the large treasure, which stood three feet tall. “Thank you, Pastor and Mrs. Hoover”
“That’s a beautiful rabbit, Albert and Emma,” John complimented. “I’m sure a lot of hours went into creating it. I certainly wish I could do woodworking and painting like that.”
&n
bsp; “You can,” stated the pastor.
“Shall we have a workshop?” Emma then asked Albert.
“Yes, let’s do that.”
But, instantly, a brief flash of lightning, atmospheric electricity, followed by a bolt of thunder, cut short their conversation and celebration this Easter day, or so they thought. Parents quickly took hold of their childrens’ hands or carried them to rush to their carriages, as the sky invited them to hurry, since its ominous clouds had certainly darkened the day and this scene.
“I believe we’ll have dessert at home instead of at the picnic grounds,” John called to the others in his party who were also on the run. Ever so gently he carried Lily, trying not to frighten her as he went, with Rachael at his side, and Phoebe beside her.
Yet, Pastor Hoover stopped them all nearly instantly when he offered the church for a temporary refuge from the unexpected spring storm, since the church was close and could hold a multitude, keeping them safe. “Come inside, please. You shouldn’t go home in this. It’s the safest place right now, for you shouldn’t be outside in lightning,” he advised.
“That’s a wise offer and opportunity,” John announced, turning to Rachael. “Shall we go?”
“Yes!” She quickly nodded agreement at the invitation, as her sister grabbed her arm for stability. “I believe we should.”
Most agreed, as well, except for those who lived nearby and wanted to go home instead. Soon, the rest were inside, safe from a driving rainfall, whipping winds, hailstones the size of doughnut holes, and dangerous lightning and thunder.
Emma had some towels she passed around, since everyone had gotten wet. “I’m going to make tea for us. There’s juice or milk for the children at home,” she then announced, ever the most gracious of hostesses. “I just need someone to go fetch it from my home kitchen.”
“I’ll go,” said her husband, and she quickly flashed him a sweet smile and mouthed, “Thank you.”
Her heading toward the church kitchen brought further help. “Let me assist, Emma,” offered Miss Callie, as she rose to her feet from a pew.
“No,” Rachael replied, placing a hand on hers. “You’re always serving. Let me do it this time.”
Soon, the children were in The Children’s Corner comparing eggs. Pastor Albert returned with the milk and juice and brought them paper for drawing, which was well received. Several adults joined them to create some paper animals, rabbits, ducks, chickens, and Easter baskets, causing much laughter, especially at their first misshaped efforts. The remaining adults held quiet discussions over high tea, with leftover sandwiches, chicken, fruit, and cookies from the still well-stocked picnic baskets at hand.
“What are you all discussing?” the pastor asked, upon rejoining the jovial adults.
“Newspapers!” Rachael Hathaway quickly answered, to the amazement of the crowd around her, for they hadn’t really heard anyone discussing that at all, yet.
“Really?” was Albert Hoover’s puzzled reply. “Do we have one in mind?”
“Yes, I do, our own sentinel. It shall be informative, with news, announcements, upcoming sales or auctions, and other events,” Rachael Hathaway explained.
“I really like your idea, but let’s include engagements, marriages, and births,” Emma suggested. “We can make it available at the church or in the markets in the village whenever we can finish an issue.”
“I like that idea. I’ll go to shops and markets and talk to people to gather news for it,” Aggie offered, and the crowd liked her idea, too.
“Let’s include anniversaries,” Cloie Davis announced, as her husband took her hand.
“Yes, and yours is coming up soon, isn’t it?” asked Emma Hoover with a big smile.
“Yes, it is,” Cloie’s husband agreed.
“Let’s make it easy on ourselves, a fun project for interested volunteers,” Rachael recommended.
“I only wish I could be here to help,” added Phoebe. “I’m a good volunteer.”
The lieutenant smiled. “Indeed, you are. I appreciate the lunch, Miss Hathaway.”
So, it was agreed upon, without even a vote, that Velvet Villa Village and the surrounding area of Twelve Ponds Territory would soon have their very own newspaper to inform them. Helpful volunteers would create it, preserving history for the generations.
“You can help when you visit me, Phoebe,” Rachael explained to her sister. “Come often.”
John and Monty were eating grapes, quietly watching and listening as the paper plan unfolded.
“Smitten now, aren’t you, Davis?” Monty asked in a whisper, leaning toward his best friend.
“Somewhat,” was the reply from John, equally quiet and truthful, as he protectively watched Miss Rachael Hathaway from a distance. “And you, Monty?”
“Somewhat.”
Chapter Twelve
Pastel elegance graced the afternoon sky, soon thereafter, as if announcing that the storm had passed. The group said their goodbyes, adjourned, and ventured out, heading toward their waiting carriages, which were being tended by some of the men in the group, including Crane Emerson and Dr. Buddy Callahan.
John’s daughter, Lily, was having fun with Minnie and Quinny Hoover, though, and wanted to be with them. She pointed to their horseless carriage parked alongside the church, while she and the twins waited for an approval from her father.
“That’s fine, John. Let her ride with us. We’ll follow you and bring her by,” Emma assured him.
“If it’s not an imposition, I’m sure Lily would dearly love the ride and company, Emma. Come over and eat with us. But, I know you both must be very tired,” John told her.
“We’re fine, aren’t we, dear?” Albert asked Emma. “Besides, we’d love some Easter ham, if you’ve got it.” Crane and others rushed to aid the pastor in retrieving his carriage horse from the blacksmith livery.
“Yes, we’re fine. It was exhilarating being with all of you today,” Emma explained.
“We’ve got it, Albert, and greens and such to go with it,” John called, as the pastor hurried away.
Monty then asked if Miss Phoebe Hathaway would prefer to ride with Pastor and Mrs. Hoover, with her sister and John Davis, or perhaps, with him. He issued an invitation.
She glanced at Rachael for her reaction, who flashed a smile and a nod of approval.
“I believe I would prefer to go with you, Lieutenant Graham, since the pastor’s carriage will be quite full, it would seem, with the three children and the Hoovers in it,” Phoebe decidedly told him.
This was fine with Rachael. “I’ll see you in a few minutes, sis.” After all, she knew she’d have time with Phoebe later, plus a chance to catch up even more on all of the news from home, ask if she’d seen Swan or Wren, and learn how the animals and gardens were faring. She waved and hurried aboard John’s fringed surrey, since small raindrops were beginning to fall once again.
“We’ll see everyone at Magnolia Gardens, then,” John called, as he jumped into the carriage beside Rachael. “We shall have walnut pie!” he declared, glancing at the new nanny, knowing it was her favorite, and also savoring the thought of some special time with her. “I requested it for us,” he whispered.
“Here’s that package you ordered from the market, Dr. Davis,” Crane explained, handing him a large box. Afterward, he informed Dr. Davis that he, his mother, Miss Mariah, and Charles Earl were going to be traveling back with friends who would drop them off on their way by the place.
Other carriages were loading and began heading home, as well, with their occupants in high spirits from the unexpected, prolonged camaraderie with friends and neighbors, and the prospect of a community newspaper in the works, due to the unexpected storm and Miss Rachael Hathaway’s suggestion about the paper. Waving goodbye, some planned to meet and greet the Davis group soon, somewhere else, for lunch, tea, or visiting.
“Thank you, Crane. I appreciate it.” John took the parcel extended to him and quickly covered it with a blanket. “Come to my place!” he called to his circle of friends. Next, he kissed his mother and grandmothers and shook hands with the men of his family, who had all excused themselves from the extended gathering at his home, except for Cousin Emery, his all-time, reliable sidekick.
“Due to the time we’ve already spent socializing, we shall have to pass this time, John. We’re fatigued, son. But we’ll make it another time. We’ll have you over. Thank you for the invitation, though,” his father explained, patting him on the shoulder with one hand, in a gesture of family solidarity.
“I understand. I’ll accept that.”
“See you soon!” Monty Graham called with a wave, looking pleased that the other Miss Hathaway was accompanying him on the short journey to John’s. Secretly, he wondered if she was anything like Rachael, besides her beauty, good manners, and humor, that is. He also wondered if he should pursue a friendship with this Hathaway sister, since she did not reside here, and the distance between their homes could become a factor.
“John, don’t worry about Lily, either. She’ll be fine. We’ll put her in the middle,” laughed Pastor Hoover. He and his lovely Emma waved joyous, reassuring waves to the doctor and Lily’s nanny. John and Rachael Hathaway waved in agreement.
Monty’s carriage took the lead. John’s went next, with his Cousin Emery and Mrs. Worthington behind his, and the Hoovers’ coach following the others. The group was giddy with excitement from the day’s events and developments, the childrens’ joyful reactions to just everything, and with the prospect of having their first actual newspaper in Twelve Ponds Territory.
“Our own newspaper, now that’s progress!” John called, wondering if his words were heard.
Evidently they were. “I’m the editor!” a laughing Emma Hoover happily called to Rachael.
Sanctuary Page 23
