A Love Woven True

by Judith Miller

  McKinley’s gaze turned toward the door leading to the garden, where Martha was giving the table her final touch. McKinley smiled at the sight of Martha wearing a wide-brimmed bonnet while arranging the garden breakfast table. Obviously, his grandmother’s hired servant was intent upon protecting her fair complexion even at this early morning hour. ‘‘I would be pleased to accompany you, Grandmother. The heat of the day up here seems mild compared to home. Even Washington seemed more stifling. Is Father planning to join us?’’

  ‘‘No. He had an early meeting with Matthew Cheever and some other gentlemen. He said he would return midmorning. However, he asked me to tell you that the family has been invited to dine with the Cheever family this evening and he expects you to attend and be on your best behavior. I’m not certain what that last remark meant. I told your father I’d never seen you anywhere that you weren’t on your best behavior.’’

  Alice took McKinley’s arm and walked alongside as he escorted her to the small table Martha had prepared with a linen cloth and china. ‘‘I doubt Father would agree with your evaluation of my conduct,’’ McKinley replied as he assisted his grandmother into her chair and then seated himself across the table.

  ‘‘It’s obvious something is amiss between you and your father. But when I inquired, he quickly changed the topic. Tell me, McKinley, what has occurred to cause this breach? Is this something related to your mother’s death?’’ Alice clasped a hand to her chest. ‘‘Has Malcolm been courting someone? He’s come here to tell me he plans to remarry, hasn’t he?’’

  ‘‘No, of course not, Grandmother. I doubt Father will ever marry again.’’ He leaned back and allowed Martha to set a plate heaped with scrambled eggs, sausage, and fluffy biscuits in front of him.

  Alice sipped her tea and studied her grandson. ‘‘Then what is the problem causing the two of you to scarcely acknowledge one another?’’

  ‘‘As you know, we spent time with President and Mrs. Taylor in Washington.’’

  ‘‘Yes, of course. Your father went into detail regarding your activities. Of course, I was primarily interested in hearing about Peggy, but I listened to his lengthy report with as much concentration as I could muster,’’ she said with a sheepish grin.

  ‘‘Did he mention our conversations with President Taylor regarding slavery?’’

  A guarded smile crossed Alice’s lips. ‘‘Your father and I ceased discussing the topic of slavery a number of years ago. What began as a conversation would soon develop into an argument; therefore, we decided if we were going to maintain family civility, the issue would not be discussed. I do know Zachary’s position has angered your father—along with most of the Southern plantation owners, but what has that to do with the two of you?’’

  ‘‘I sided with the president. Actually, I went beyond siding with him and told Father I oppose slavery.’’

  Lifting her napkin, Alice dabbed her lips. She didn’t want McKinley to suspect the alarm elicited by his statement. ‘‘Sometimes there is wisdom in weighing our beliefs against timing and consequences, McKinley. Don’t misinterpret what I’m saying: I believe we must have the courage to take a stand for our principles. However, it’s wise to evaluate when to take such a stand. Exactly what did you say?’’

  Alice listened as McKinley related the conversations that had taken place, both in Washington and on board the ship. When McKinley completed the recitation, she remained silent for several minutes, staring at her roses and praying God would give her the perfect solution, some ideal method to heal the discord. ‘‘You know your father is prone to speak in anger and then regret his words, don’t you?’’

  ‘‘I realize we all speak out of turn from time to time, Grandmother. However, Father said what is truly in his heart. If I return to The Willows, he will expect me to embrace his beliefs, but I can’t do that. From the time I was very young, I couldn’t understand why we owned other human beings—and nobody ever gave me a proper explanation. Consequently, I’ve tolerated plantation life but have not had the courage to speak my mind until now. I don’t take any pleasure in causing Father pain, but I cannot continue acting as though I find slavery acceptable. I’m hoping you will agree to take me on as a temporary houseguest.’’

  Alice clutched at her chest. ‘‘Oh, dear! It would be a treat to have you remain in Lowell. And having you live with me would prove a genuine delight. However, I’m not certain your father would ever forgive me. He already holds me accountable for influencing Jasmine in her stand against slavery.’’

  ‘‘He can’t blame you for my beliefs, Grandmother. And as I said, he’s told me that if I disagree with slavery, perhaps I should find some other way to support myself.’’

  She began fanning herself with her limp cloth napkin. ‘‘I do believe the temperature has dramatically risen since we first came outdoors.’’

  ‘‘I’ve made you uncomfortable. I’m sorry, Grandmother. Forget we had this conversation. Let’s return indoors.’’ McKinley stood and then assisted Alice from her chair.

  Grasping McKinley’s arm, Alice met his gaze with an encouraging smile. ‘‘Don’t give up on me so soon, my boy. I need only a bit of time to think this matter through. I don’t want to see the family thrown into chaos, nor do I want to see you unhappy. I need some time for preparation so that we may present a firm plan to your father. Our actions will merely serve to provoke him if we have no definitive plan.’’

  ‘‘Then you will help?’’

  ‘‘Yes, of course. How could I turn down such a request? However, you must remember we do not want to cause your father undue pain. For the present, put aside your differences and attempt to reconcile with him. Do you think you can do that?’’

  ‘‘I promise to make every attempt, but I don’t believe Father will do the same.’’

  ‘‘You do your part and leave the rest to me,’’ she said as they walked into the house.

  The trio sat in silence as their carriage moved through the streets of Lowell. Finally Alice turned her focus to her son. ‘‘You’ve not told me how your meetings progressed today, Malcolm. I trust all went well?’’

  ‘‘Everything went well, Mother.’’

  ‘‘Can you say no more than those few words? Surely you have more to report—you were gone all day.’’

  Malcolm shifted his weight and turned toward Alice. ‘‘I doubt my business meetings are of interest to either of you. Suffice it to say our discussions were fruitful, and I’m certain the agreements we reach will prove beneficial to all concerned.’’

  McKinley’s eyebrows arched. ‘‘I thought Samuel was overseeing all contractual negotiations for the Southern cotton growers.’’

  Malcolm directed an icy look at McKinley. ‘‘Your brother negotiates the contracts regarding prices and quantities for the growers. These meetings deal with issues more intricate and far-reaching than next year’s prices—matters I don’t believe we should discuss.’’

  Alice grasped her son’s arm with a gloved hand. ‘‘Forgive me, Malcolm. I shouldn’t have been prying into business matters.

  Especially after a difficult day of meetings when I’m certain you’re looking forward to relaxing and forgetting your worries. McKinley and I were simply interested in your day. We’ll save our idle chatter for the Cheevers’ dining table.’’

  Thankfully McKinley took her cue and nodded his agreement. ‘‘Are you a regular visitor at the Cheever home, Grandmother?’’

  ‘‘I visit Lilly on occasion, and she frequently acts as hostess for some of the groups to which I belong. She’s a fine lady. In fact, she worked in one of the mills before marrying Matthew Cheever.

  And this is their home,’’ Alice said as their carriage slowly came to a halt.

  McKinley looked out the window and then back at his grandmother, his brows furrowed. ‘‘I expected something more . . .’’

  ‘‘Pretentious?’’ she inquired.

  ‘‘At least more spacious.’’

  ‘‘You grew up
on a plantation and equate real estate with power and wealth,’’ Malcolm told his son. ‘‘Make no mistake: Matthew Cheever wields plenty of power, and he could live much more splendidly if he so desired. Shall we go in?’’

  ‘‘He takes umbrage at everything I say,’’ McKinley whispered to his grandmother.

  ‘‘Trust me—your father will soften as the evening wears on and he’s around other people.’’

  Lilly Cheever awaited them at the front door, poised in a pale blue dress edged with fine ivory lace, while Matthew stood on the front porch engrossed in conversation with several other men.

  ‘‘Come join us, Malcolm,’’ Matthew called. ‘‘We decided the parlor was much too warm.’’

  Malcolm cast a glance toward the men. ‘‘If you’ll excuse me, Mother, I believe I will accept Matthew’s invitation.’’

  ‘‘By all means—I have McKinley to escort me,’’ she replied with a warm smile before turning her attention to Lilly. ‘‘Lilly, I’d like to introduce my grandson, McKinley Wainwright.’’

  ‘‘A pleasure,’’ Lilly greeted warmly. ‘‘And this is our daughter, Violet, and son, Michael. Violet, perhaps you would like to accompany Mr. Wainwright and introduce him to some of the other younger guests.’’

  The flounces of Violet’s white organdy dress gave a gentle swish as she stepped forward and clasped McKinley’s arm. ‘‘I would be delighted.’’

  ‘‘Thank you for your kindness, Miss Cheever. Grandmother?’’

  Alice remained beside Lilly Cheever and waved the young couple forward. ‘‘You two go along. I can manage on my own.’’

  ‘‘Your grandson is a handsome young man. Is this his first visit to Lowell?’’ Lilly inquired.

  ‘‘Yes, it is, and I know he’ll have a much better time this evening now that he’s with Violet. I don’t think he’d enjoy hearing the Lowell matrons discuss their flower gardens or latest ailments.’’

  Lilly’s soft laughter filled the warm evening breeze. ‘‘ ’Tis true young people have little patience when it comes to flower gardens or illness. How long will your family be visiting?’’

  ‘‘I’m uncertain. As you know, Malcolm has been involved in business meetings with your husband and other members of the Boston Associates. It’s my understanding he’ll book passage once they’ve concluded their meetings.’’

  ‘‘Then we’ll have to hope they are slow in concluding their business. Your grandson would make a nice addition to the few eligible men in Lowell. Ah, and here is your granddaughter.’’

  Jasmine leaned down and gave her grandmother a warm embrace. ‘‘What’s this I hear about eligible young men coming to Lowell?’’

  Alice pointed a finger in Jasmine’s direction, her face crinkling as she smiled at Jasmine. ‘‘Now you see? That’s how gossip gets started. Folks hear part of a conversation and the next thing you know, a false rumor has begun.’’

  ‘‘I know I heard talk of eligible men,’’ Jasmine insisted.

  ‘‘I was telling your grandmother that your brother would make a fine addition to the few eligible men we have in Lowell. He’s a handsome young man.’’

  ‘‘Speaking of eligible men, where is Nolan? I thought he was going to accompany you this evening,’’ Alice interjected.

  ‘‘He sent word he would meet me here. Perhaps we should go inside and permit Mrs. Cheever the opportunity to greet her guests,’’ Jasmine suggested, gently guiding her grandmother through the front door. ‘‘And where is McKinley? I noticed Father when I arrived, but McKinley wasn’t with him.’’

  Alice glanced about and then took Jasmine’s hand. ‘‘McKinley is with Violet Cheever. Let’s sit in the alcove near the stairway, where we can talk without our conversation being overheard. I have much to tell you. Your father and McKinley are at odds with each other.’’

  Malcolm wiped his brow and continued pacing back and forth across the burgundy and gold wool carpet that adorned the floor of his mother’s parlor. Life as he knew it continued to change, and he didn’t like it one bit. ‘‘I can’t believe it!’’ Malcolm exclaimed, his face ashen and drawn.

  Alice motioned toward the settee. ‘‘Do sit down, Malcolm. The fact is, whether you choose to believe it or not, the president is dead.’’

  Malcolm ceased his pacing and wheeled around. ‘‘Zachary was more than the president; he was my friend. Even though we weren’t related by blood, I considered him kin.’’

  ‘‘I understand, Malcolm. However, there is nothing you can do to change things. It’s a shock to all of us. I cared for Zachary also. And dear Peggy. We must pray she’ll find the fortitude to withstand Zachary’s death.’’

  Malcolm dropped onto the settee and once again began rubbing his forehead. ‘‘To think we were with Zachary when he was eating cherries and milk on the Fourth of July. In fact, I joined him and ate some of the same. The doctors conclude that’s what caused his death. Seems strange that would be the source of his ailment since I was completely unaffected, don’t you think?’’

  ‘‘The newspaper said something about the heat also. I’m surmising that as the day wore on, he became extremely overheated. I do recall you mentioned the extreme heat during the time you visited Peggy and Zachary.’’

  ‘‘True. It was unbearably hot in Washington, particularly on the Fourth. However, I find it difficult to believe it was cherries and milk that killed the president—more likely his heart. I can’t believe Peggy is willing to accept such an outlandish explanation. Are you?’’

  Alice tucked a wisp of white hair behind one ear. ‘‘The shock has likely caused Peggy to take to her bed, and I doubt she’s intent upon discovering the cause of Zachary’s death. After all, knowing the cause is not going to bring him back to her. Are you thinking you should go to Washington?’’

  ‘‘Matters here in Lowell will not permit me to leave at the moment. And by the time I would arrive, I doubt there would be a member of the Taylor family remaining in Washington. There’s little doubt Peggy will at least be pleased to be out of the political turmoil that surrounded the family.’’

  The sight of McKinley descending the staircase caused a faint smile to appear upon Alice’s lips. ‘‘Are you leaving the house?’’

  Twirling his straw hat on one finger, McKinley stepped into the doorway of the parlor. ‘‘I’m calling on Violet Cheever. She’s agreed to give me a complete tour of Lowell and the surrounding countryside.’’ Her grandson’s wide grin was infectious.

  ‘‘Splendid! And will you be returning for the noonday meal?’’

  ‘‘No. Miss Cheever suggested a picnic. Fortunately the weather has cooperated and there’s not a sign of rain.’’

  ‘‘What fun!’’ Alice exclaimed, giving a resounding clap of her hands. ‘‘Picnics always remind me of your grandfather. He loved finding a grassy place beneath the trees, close to a river or stream, where he could relax and watch the water. He said the water had a calming effect upon him.’’

  ‘‘Some of us must work in order to earn our keep. Instead of lazing about some grassy meadow, I’ll be attending meetings this afternoon. You may want to give some thought to the difficulties of earning a living while you’re staring out into the Merrimack River,’’ Malcolm asserted.

  Malcolm didn’t wait for his son’s reply before exiting through the parlor doors leading out into his mother’s small flower garden. With a determined stride, he walked across the slate steppingstones that curved away from the garden until he reached an old elm. The giant branches provided a leafy canopy over a weatherworn wrought-iron bench. He dropped onto the cool metal and rested his arms across his thighs, staring at the ground as a crushing weariness permeated his bones.

  ‘‘Zachary, Zachary—what is your death going to mean to this country? I fear none of us can even fathom what lies in wait for us,’’ he muttered.

  ‘‘Has life become so difficult that you’ve begun talking to yourself, Father?’’

  Malcolm started and quickly turned toward th
e sound of Jasmine’s voice. ‘‘I didn’t know you were paying a visit today. Had I known, I wouldn’t have scheduled a meeting for this afternoon.’’

  Jasmine smiled and sat down, the flounces of her yellow morning dress spreading across the bench in waves of fabric and ribbon. ‘‘I needed to make some purchases at the mercantile. It is my practice to stop and visit with Grandmother whenever I’m in Lowell. I’m sorry you have a meeting, but we can share this time together, and Grandmother has invited me to remain for supper also. I won’t return home until evening. You appear troubled. Are you regretting your visit to Lowell?’’

  ‘‘In some respects, I suppose I am. I thought this journey would be good for both McKinley and me—help us grow closer.

  Instead, it’s had the opposite result. I believe he intends to remain here in Lowell. And now with Zachary’s death, the country is bound to be in an upheaval, and I don’t know what to expect from Millard Fillmore. Of course, he may be more of an asset to the South than Zachary was. It’s difficult to know what a man will do once he’s in a powerful position.’’

  ‘‘Your words are filled with sadness and disappointment, Father. I know you worry about The Willows, but you must try to remember that your life will not be measured solely by what is accomplished on that cotton plantation.’’

  ‘‘You think like a woman, Jasmine. Men know from an early age that they are measured by their ability to gain wealth and power. Yet, at this moment in my life, I realize I’ve lost my children to those endeavors.’’

  She reached for her father’s hand. ‘‘Whatever do you mean? You haven’t lost any of us. I know I can safely say that all of your children love you.’’

  He brushed the back of her hand with a fleeting kiss. ‘‘Love? Perhaps. But do any of my children like me or desire to live in the home I created for them? I think not.’’