Trusting Grace

by Maggie Brendan

  “Maybe this afternoon she could sit out on the porch in the sun. It’ll do her good,” Grace said, ready to pour him a cup of coffee. Robert held his hand up.

  “None for me, thanks. I want to get all the chores done by lunchtime. The mercantile was really busy yesterday, so I can’t be late.”

  Owen stood, taking a minute to get his legs. “None for me either. I’ll see what I can do to help out, Robert. By the way, where’s Tom?”

  “Oh, he’s already mucking out the barn. He worked so hard yesterday at Eli’s, he was plumb tuckered out before bedtime.”

  Owen nodded. “Work’s good for the lad. Keeps him outta trouble.” They started out the door.

  “Tell Tom to stop in and say hello before he leaves,” Grace said.

  “I’ll do that. Don’t forget to soak your foot, now.” Robert gave her a long look.

  “Thanks for the salts. I intend to use them after lunch.” Grace wondered why he was staring at her like that. Maybe it was the old faded-yellow dress she was wearing. She hadn’t wanted to wear a nicer dress when she had gardening to do. That was at least something she could sit and take care of without being on her foot. It was such a clear, cloudless day, the kind that called to her to be outdoors as much as possible. In between times, she’d keep checking on Sarah.

  Thirty minutes later, Grace looked up to see a carriage coming up the lane. Who could that be? Ginny? She struggled to a standing position, shaking her eyes from the bright sun’s rays. As the carriage drew closer, she could see that it was Stella and not Ginny. Grace opened the garden gate to greet her as she pulled up.

  Stella stepped down from the carriage as quickly as she drove up. “I hope I’m not interrupting your morning, Grace. Robert told me about your injury and I thought I’d drop off dinner for you today,” she said while reaching into the back of the carriage seat to lift a large basket covered in a checkered cloth.

  Grace removed her dirty garden gloves, stuffing them in her apron pocket. “That’s mighty nice of you, Stella, but you shouldn’t have. Becky’s been helping me.” She walked over to the carriage. “Can I carry anything?”

  “Land sakes, no! It’s all right here in one basket. Is Owen around? I hope to get a chance to see him today.”

  She was so tall that she towered over Grace—Grace had to look up to meet her eyes. “Yes, he’s out in the field with Robert, but I’ll ring the dinner bell. Believe me, they’ll come running once they know it’s time to eat.” Grace glanced at the watch pinned to her dress. “Oh my, how time flies. It’s almost dinnertime, isn’t it?”

  They made their way to the house, and Grace rang the triangle that hung off the end of the porch. “Why don’t we take this inside to the kitchen?”

  “I hope I brought enough. Robert’s children are here too, I understand.” Stella followed her inside.

  “We’ll make it enough.” Grace stepped inside the foyer and called up the stairs for Becky. When Becky appeared at the top of the stairs, Grace told her to come down to eat and bring Sarah if she felt up to it.

  “I’ll see, but I believe she’s asleep right now.” Becky hurried away, then returned, rushing down the stairs. “I didn’t want to wake her, Miss Grace.”

  “That’s perfectly fine. She needs her rest,” Grace reassured her.

  “Miss Stella, what are you doing here?” Becky asked, seeing her standing near the kitchen door.

  “I brought dinner so Grace wouldn’t have to cook today. I hear you’ve been a big help to her.”

  “I try to.” Becky rolled her eyes at Grace and they laughed. Then she sniffed. “It smells wonderful.”

  Tom burst through the kitchen door. “What smells so good? Oh, hi, Miss Stella.” He gave her a quizzical look.

  “I brought dinner today. It’s chicken pie and apple crisp,” Stella answered.

  “Go wash up, Tom,” Grace ordered, then tousled his hair as he passed her. She spied Robert and her father slowly walking from the field. It was so good of Robert to take his time for her father’s sake, and she was glad to see their friendship and respect for each other growing.

  “Let me help you set the table, then once I say hello to Owen, I’ll be on my way. I left Biddy, my housekeeper, in charge while I’m out.”

  “Let me show you where things are,” Becky said, taking her by the hand. “I wanted to tell you that I’ve been reading to Sarah and it helps her to rest.”

  “Is she sick?” Stella inquired, flashing a look at Grace.

  “We think it’s only a cold, but I’m watching her closely.”

  “Perhaps she’d like a visit from KatyKat this afternoon. If that’s all right with you.” Stella looked at Grace.

  “I suppose it would be all right.” What harm could it bring? “I don’t want to put you out.”

  “No trouble at all. KatyKat loves to take rides and she’s grown an attachment to Sarah, I’ve noticed. Now, let’s go ahead and set aside a plate of dinner for Sarah when she wakes up. You know how men can eat!” Stella laughed as she went about placing food on the table in her no-nonsense fashion.

  Owen was surprised but happy that Stella had come bringing dinner, Grace noted, though she didn’t stay to eat with them, but promised to return with the cat to cheer up Sarah. Owen walked her out, then returned with a happy look on his face.

  Grace had to admit that Stella was a nice lady and settled on the idea that whatever happened between her father and Stella could be a good thing. It could take some getting used to since no one could ever replace her mother, but Grace was adult enough to know that wasn’t what this was about.

  By early afternoon, Tom and Robert were gone, and Sarah said she felt good enough to sit in the sun and wait for Stella. Since she had no fever, Grace allowed her to have a bit to eat with the sun’s warmth for healing—which Owen insisted aided in curing most anything. Grace figured if anyone would know, it would be her father.

  Becky helped clean the dishes but later settled into an oversized wicker chair at the other end of the porch, her head stuck in a book, while Owen sat with Sarah to wait on Stella. Grace was feeling a little lazy herself while she elevated her foot, and stifled a yawn before Stella’s carriage came rumbling into the yard.

  Owen stood to greet her and walked to the front steps waiting for her. In her arms, she carried a small box with holes. “Everyone looks so comfy and cozy this afternoon that I feel like I’m disturbing your peace.” Stella chuckled.

  “You’re not interrupting. We were all enjoying the warm sun and the benefits of it.” Owen grinned broadly at her, and Grace couldn’t help but smile at the unspoken affection that passed privately between them. She wondered if they knew how obvious their mutual regard was.

  “Oh, I’ve been waiting for you, Miss Stella.” Sarah got up from her chaise lounge. “Is that KatyKat in the box?” Meows sounded as the cat scratched on the box.

  “Yes, it is, and as you can tell, she’s anxious to be released.” Stella bent down to remove the lid, and Sarah reached in and lifted the cat out.

  “Sweet KatyKat,” she murmured with a sniff and her thick-sounding voice from the head cold. “You didn’t like that dark box, did you?” KatyKat nuzzled Sarah’s cheek as she held her close, and she spoke soothingly to the cat who purred in contentment.

  Becky got up and petted the cat too, then Sarah carried her back to the lounge chair to sit with her. “She’s such a sweet kitty,” Becky commented, “and she really likes you a lot, sister.”

  “Can I get you some tea or coffee, Stella?” Grace asked as they watched the interaction between Sarah and the cat.

  Stella glanced at Owen. “I wanted to have a word with Owen first if you don’t mind. And I’d love a cup of tea.”

  Grace sobered. “Well, of course. I’ll go start—”

  “But coffee for me, Grace.”

  She nodded at her father. “Why don’t you two go sit in the parlor where no one will bother you?”

  “Good idea. Come on, Stella. We can talk undist
urbed there.”

  As the two walked off, Grace wondered what was so important that Stella needed time alone with her father. Surely, they hadn’t formed that kind of relationship yet, had they?

  29

  Owen guided Stella to the parlor and shuffled them over to the settee. He selfishly wanted to sit next to her, so he turned sideways and she moved to face him. The look on her face was somber—not the look of a lady who couldn’t wait to be alone with him—and his ego deflated.

  “Stella, is everything all right?”

  She took a deep breath and reached for his hand. “I need to explain something to you.”

  “What do you mean? You don’t sound like someone who’s happy to be with me right now.” Here it comes . . . She’s going to say I can’t get over the death of my wife and have gotten sick instead of dealing with it.

  She caught his look and sighed, staring him straight in the eye. “Don’t pretend you know what I’m about to say because I doubt that you do.”

  “I’m sorry. I thought I was about to get discarded in lieu of your cats and books. I never want to interject myself where I’m not wanted, and we are both set in our ways at our age.”

  “Good heavens! Please hush and listen to what I have to say or I’ll have to hit you with a fireplace poker!” She laughed and he joined in.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “Please go ahead.”

  Stella stared down at his hands. “Owen, you know, I’ve been doing a little research in my medical books, and I think I may know what ails you.”

  Owen drew back. “How would you know?”

  “Something I’ve never told you—I started medical school at Women’s Medical College of New York, thinking to become a doctor or nurse. My parents died when cholera hit in Montana, so I returned home and never went back. But I still love to research medical things and correspond with the professor back in New York that I maintained a friendship with. I’ve stumbled upon something that might explain the weakness and pain in your legs and arm.”

  He tried to follow her but was lost. “What do you mean?”

  Stella bit her lip. “Well, I took it upon myself to write her about your condition—your odd motor symptoms and having no feeling in your feet when you walk. I read about a mysterious ailment in some medical research papers that my professor uncovered. She believes you have multiple neuritis, a type of peripheral nerve condition. Then I spoke with your doctor about our thoughts and he seems to think we are right.”

  “Gracious! That sounds very serious.” Suddenly Owen’s tongue felt dry, and he swallowed, but so what? He wasn’t a young man. Something would kill him sooner or later. Maybe sooner, with all this serious talk.

  “It can be, but I believe we can fight this chronic condition.”

  “We?”

  Stella actually blushed right before his eyes. “Yes, we. I want to help as much as I can.”

  “You mean you’d still want to be with me with all this I have going on?”

  “Yes, Owen. Your legs don’t change who you are inside.”

  Her voice was sincere, and he didn’t quite know what to say, so he squeezed her hand. “Now that you think you know what it is, what can I do about it?”

  Stella smiled. “I’m getting to that. Dr. Avery suggests trying hot springs and drinking quinine water for leg pain. Also rubbing liniment.”

  “Why didn’t Dr. Avery ride over and tell me this?”

  “He was planning to, but since I was leaving and Matilda was in labor, he asked me to tell you. I grabbed the cat and came as fast as I could.”

  “Let’s go find Grace and tell her.”

  ———

  Grace wondered what was taking her father and Stella so long. The tea and coffee were lukewarm at best now. She’d taken the tray out to the porch to wait for them. Between sneezes, Sarah was happily playing with the cat with the string from her shoelace. But at least she seemed to be feeling better.

  Someone was coming up the road to the house. More company? Soon she could see it was Warren. Grace wasn’t sure why he always just showed up at random, but she’d be a kind hostess anyway.

  Warren dismounted and hurried up the steps. “Good afternoon, Grace.” His huge smile faded into a thin, tight line when he glanced about the porch and saw Becky and Sarah. “I see you have company.”

  Becky glanced up from her book, then went back to reading. Sarah eyed him shyly for a moment, and the cat scrambled from her arms.

  “Hello. Yes, they’ve come back to stay for a few days.” She wasn’t going to go into the reasons why right now.

  “Oh, I never knew they left.”

  “Come have some coffee that I made for Stella and my father.”

  He frowned. “I saw the other carriage. You have another visitor?”

  “Stella is a friend of my father’s, and she brought us dinner today.” She limped back to the coffee to pour him a cup.

  “What’s wrong with your foot?” he asked, sounding irritated.

  “Oh, nothing much . . . just a little sprain.” She handed him his coffee, but he never sat down. He stood looking about, frustration written all over his face. “Then you have quite a houseful. I was rather hoping to have you all to myself, but I can see you’ll always be too busy taking care of others to have any time for me,” he complained, staring at her with an unpleasant expression.

  “I’m sorry. I had no idea you might drop by.” She felt flustered by his criticisms about what she did with her time.

  He leaned closer, and whispered, “I told you that I didn’t care very much for children, and you’d be so much better off if you’d live in town away from all this work.”

  “And I told you, I love children and have no intention of moving into town. Ever.”

  “I should be going. I’m sorry I dropped in unexpectedly.” Warren whirled around, red-faced, and his boot heel came down on KatyKat’s tail. The cat screeched, causing him to jump forward and dump his coffee down the front of Grace’s dress. The cat, in her scrambling to get away, got between Warren’s legs, tripping him, and the teapot and tray went crashing to the floor. He bent down and scooped the cat up in a rage. When he did, KatyKat’s claws came out. Hissing, she swiped his neck, leaving three long claw marks.

  He swore under his breath, then tossed the cat at Sarah, who was crying now. Grace stood in utter shock as Becky came running. Warren pulled out his handkerchief, finding blood when he dabbed his neck.

  “Let me put something on that for you, Warren. It was all an unfortunate accident.” Grace moved toward him, but he withdrew. Becky and Sarah were watching both of them, with a look of irritation directed at Warren. Sarah continued to stroke KatyKat with a soothing sound.

  “What’s all the commotion?” Owen came as fast as his legs would carry him through the front door and onto the porch with Stella holding his arm.

  “It’s none of your affair, ol’ man,” Warren snapped.

  Grace stepped close. “Warren, no one speaks to my father that way in my presence. Please remove yourself from my property. You are not welcome here.”

  He stared down at her, and she could almost feel his pent-up anger. He snorted, turned on his heel, and strode down the steps, hopping on his horse faster than a buzzard landing on a carcass.

  Owen threw his arm about his daughter’s trembling shoulders. “I’d say you got rid of him permanently.”

  “He’s a cad, Pop, and mean. I saw the anger in his eyes . . . and this wasn’t the first time.”

  “But it’s his last time,” Owen reassured her, staring down the road as Warren disappeared from view.

  Stella turned to Sarah. “Is KatyKat all right?”

  “Yes, ma’am. That man stepped hard on her tail and she scratched him.”

  “Humph. Maybe he deserved it.” Stella chuckled and then stroked the cat’s head. She bent to pick up the dishes.

  “I’ll go get the broom.” Becky hurried away.

  “I’m sorry about your tea, Stella.” Grace picked up
the broken pieces of her prized rose teapot.

  “Another time, Grace, but thank you. After we clean this mess up, your father and I would like to talk with you.”

  Goodness! Are they planning on getting married so soon? Grace cleared her throat and muttered, “Okay.”

  “Don’t look so alarmed, Grace. It’s probably not what you’re thinking about,” Owen added.

  She breathed a sigh of relief. Her father knew her very well. “I see. Well, then. Let me finish cleaning this up,” she said as Becky returned with the broom and dustpan. “Becky, could you go put the teakettle back on?”

  “Oh, please don’t bother,” Stella said. “Soon as we talk, I must get back to town.”

  “I understand. Let’s go inside then. Becky, will you finish here for me?” Grace asked.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Becky replied, already sweeping up the pieces.

  30

  The warm salt bath felt soothing to Grace’s foot as she soaked it in a small wash pan—so much so that she almost decided to soak her other foot. She thought back to the conversation she’d had earlier with her father and Stella. If Grace was suspicious of Stella before, all doubt was swept away when Stella shared that she’d been researching her pop’s illness. The tone of Stella’s voice and the affection she had for Owen was real, and this impressed Grace.

  “Grace, I remember seeing a poster about hot springs near Helena last time I was in town,” Owen said as he steadied himself and eased into a side chair. “Maybe I need to go and see if those hot springs would help me. I’ve heard they’re good for rheumatism.”

  “I say there’s no harm in trying, Pop. Why don’t we ask Dr. Avery what he thinks?”

  “I will. I’ve been praying about my health to the Man Upstairs.” Owen’s tone became serious. “It may not be a cure, but maybe God’s pointing me in the right direction for help.”

  “I hope so. God sometimes answers in ways that surprise us, doesn’t He?” She dared not tell him that she’d overheard him praying privately, but she had been praying too.