Embers of Love

by Tracie Peterson

  “Like Papa?”

  “Yes,” her mother said with a sigh. “He was my best friend, and it’s hard to lose that. I know he’s in a better place, but sometimes I’m lonely.”

  Deborah didn’t know what to say. She longed to be able to say something that would give her mother just the right sense of assurance, but truth be told, Deborah felt completely unable to help. What did she know of losing a mate – a best friend of nearly thirty years?

  Finally she put her arm around her mother’s shoulders and simply held her close. Sometimes, words simply had no power to help.

  CHAPTER 7

  JULY 1885

  The weeks of June slipped into July, and as the heat grew more intense, Deborah’s efforts to set up the Vandermark Logging office did, too. She had decided the best way to get organized was to actually have an office. In the past, Uncle Arjan had just carried a ledger around with him to the logging site and then back to his small cabin just a few yards behind the main house. Now, however, Deborah believed the size of their organization merited a place for everything and everything in its place.

  There was a sewing room on the ground floor of the Vandermark house that would work quite well. With her mother’s enthusiastic encouragement, Deborah arranged for her brothers to move the sewing things upstairs to the storage room, where she and Lizzie could fix it up properly. There would always be mending and sewing to see to, but Mother said they could tend to it on the second floor as well as on the first.

  Still, Deborah knew it was a sacrifice. The upstairs was much warmer in the summer, and while they saved most of their major sewing projects for the cooler winter months, it would still be less than ideal. Maybe in the future she could encourage her uncle and brothers to build a separate cabin for the office.

  With Lizzie’s help, the office took shape quickly. Deborah arranged a small desk, several chairs, and bookshelves, along with other things she would need. Now that she was settled, the trick was to interpret her uncle’s chicken-scratch notes. Often she found a few figures and a name without any other comment. Deborah was hard-pressed to know exactly what they meant, but she gradually began to recognize his style.

  She was just finishing tallies on May’s figures when her uncle and Mr. Perkins showed up at the door of the office. Uncle Arjan looked rather perplexed.

  “Sorry to bother you, Deborah, but Mr. Perkins has some papers for us to look over.”

  “Good to see you, Mr. Perkins. Come in,” Deborah said, putting down her pen. “Pull up a chair and tell me what you need.”

  “I told Arjan that I wanted someone in the family to read over this contract. One copy is for you and one’s for me. I need to have it signed to take with me when I go to Houston on Friday.”

  “A contract?” Most everything related to the business had always been done on a handshake. Contracts had never been needed among friends.

  Mr. Perkins looked rather embarrassed as he handed her the papers. “I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not my idea. The bank wants me to give them proof that I have a steady supply of logs pledged for production at the sawmill. I’m getting signatures from all my major providers.”

  Deborah began reading over the contract. “But why?” she asked without thinking. She glanced up and smiled. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

  The older man shook his head. “Not at all. Like I said, I know this comes as a surprise. Here’s the situation: I want to double the size of the mill.”

  “Double?” She looked at her uncle. “Would that mean we would have to double our output, and double the number of employees, as well?”

  “It would definitely mean adding people,” her uncle replied.

  Mr. Perkins moved forward. “See, I need to get a pledge of so many logs so I can project our board feet. This becomes a sort of collateral for the bank. They will see the contract agreements as a promise of production and your agreement to sell only to me, and in turn they can feel safe in loaning me the money I need for the expansion.”

  Deborah couldn’t begin to imagine what that would do to the size of their small community. “I suppose you will have to bring in additional stores and housing for the workers, as well.”

  “Yes indeed. I’ll be adding at least another ten houses right away, with plans for twenty more. Now that we have the new doctor – not that folks will go see him – ” he muttered under his breath, “the missus wants me to think about bringing in a full-time preacher and maybe build a regular icehouse.”

  “All of those things would be very nice, especially with additional workers.” Deborah looked at the papers again, and then to her uncle. “Has Mr. Perkins gone over the numbers with you?”

  Uncle Arjan nodded. “He did.”

  “And are you in agreement with that number?” She glanced down to look at the figures once more. “It says here that you’ll provide logs with a potential of ten thousand board feet a day until the mill’s first phase of additions is complete. After that, you’ll increase to fifteen thousand, and after phase two and the completion of all additions, you’ll increase to at least twenty thousand board feet a day, with bonuses paid if you go over your quota. Oh, and it’s all to be paid in cash rather than script.”

  “Yes, that’s always been our agreement. As for the amount of wood, I think we can do that, so long as we get in a good crew of workers,” Uncle Arjan told her.

  “And you’ll have a few months to get them trained,” Mr. Perkins added. “Once I get my loan, I intend to see the work completed by Christmas at the latest. That will give you a full five months to hire and train your men.”

  “I’m comfortable with that,” Uncle Arjan declared.

  Deborah worked some figures on paper for a moment. “So eventually you will need to provide something like between twenty-seven and thirty-five trees a day by the time the mill is doubled. Is that correct?”

  Uncle Arjan laughed. “I told you she was the smart one in the family.”

  “What about these figures on what you’ll pay Vandermark Logging?” Deborah asked Mr. Perkins. “Shouldn’t there be an allowance for escalation, should the price of lumber go up?”

  “She is the smart one,” Mr. Perkins agreed. “I’m sorry I didn’t think of that myself. Shows that my mind was purely on my own gain, and for that, I apologize. Why don’t we figure a percentage that will be acceptable to both of us?”

  “A figure based on increases of more than five percent in finished lumber prices could trigger the escalation clause. If the prices bottom out, we would revert to the original base price. That base price, however, could not be allowed to drop – at least not without new negotiations. If we have to pledge to provide a specific amount of board feet and take penalties if we fail to meet our quota, then you must, in turn, pledge to pay for the wood even if the market suffers. There should also be a clause that allows for acts of God – fire, hurricanes, and such.”

  “That’s only fair,” Mr. Perkins granted. “Write that in. I’ll sign off on it.”

  They haggled over figures for another few minutes before Deborah was finally satisfied. Mr. Perkins reached out to shake her hand. “Your family will benefit greatly from you handling their affairs.” He turned to Uncle Arjan. “Don’t let her get away from you.”

  “I don’t intend to,” her uncle agreed.

  She felt a mixture of emotions at his words. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to benefit her family, but with each passing day, Deborah had the distinct feeling that she had backed herself into a corner. She remembered one of her professors once saying, “Be careful of making yourself irreplaceable and indispensable, lest you find that you are.”

  “You’ll be providing half my supply.” Mr. Perkins patted her shoulder. “Your pa sure would have been proud.”

  Deborah nodded. “He would have been.” She finished adjusting the terms of the document on one set of papers and handed the paper to her uncle. Dipping her pen in the ink, she passed that to him, as well. “You should both initial where e
ach of the changes are listed and sign on the last page.”

  Uncle Arjan took the pen and did just that. He let Deborah blot the signature then handed the contract back to Mr. Perkins. “Looks like I’d better hire me some men.”

  Mr. Perkins initialed and signed while Deborah adjusted the second copy of the contract. Once all of the signatures were in place, Zed Perkins handed Arjan his copy. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I get back from Houston. I don’t think we’re going to have any problem now. I have four other small operations agreeing to provide wood, so the bankers can easily see that I’ll have the wherewithal to furnish what I say I can. It was good to do business with you, Miss Deborah.”

  She smiled. “Likewise.”

  Uncle Arjan left momentarily to walk Mr. Perkins to the door, then returned to the office. Deborah looked up and smiled. “Guess you have your work cut out for you now.”

  “Well, my first order of business is to assign you a salary. You earned your keep today.”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t take on this job expecting to be paid. Father wanted me to do this job. I benefit from the prosperity of the company – same as you. I don’t need a salary.”

  “I can’t say that I ever recall your father thinkin’ you needed to work at anything. Leastwise, he never told me.”

  “That can’t be right. We used to talk about it all the time. He knew I couldn’t very well log, but he said many times that everyone in the family needed to pull their weight. So he allowed me to go to school.”

  “I don’t suppose I know about that. Your pa talked about how proud he was of your ability to think – especially for a woman.”

  She grinned. “That sounds like him.”

  “And he loved to indulge you. But, anyway, everyone needs some spending money,” Uncle Arjan countered. “What say you let me pay you a dollar a day? If you find you need more money than that – say you want to buy something special – just come and see me. Agreed?”

  Deborah considered it for a moment and nodded. “Very well.” She got up and kissed her uncle on the cheek. “You are awfully good to me – to Mama, too. I want you to know how much I appreciate that.”

  His face reddened slightly. “You and your mama mean the world to me – the boys, too. Wouldn’t expect anyone else to take care of you.”

  “Even so, I’m grateful. Mama’s peace of mind is important to me. I know she’s come to depend on you and the boys a great deal. Hopefully, by taking this job, I can pay you back in a small way.”

  He laughed and gave her shoulders a squeeze. “Little gal, you are more than payin’ me back by what you did here today. You know how this business works, and you know how the world works because of all that schoolin’. You benefited us all today, and I’m right proud of you. Just wait until I tell your brothers. They’ll be dancing a jig.”

  “I doubt G. W. will dance a jig anytime soon.” She frowned and looked up at her uncle. “Have you ever talked to him about Papa’s death?”

  Uncle Arjan grew thoughtful. “I’ve tried. He knows I don’t hold him responsible. Doesn’t change the fact that the boy holds himself in that place.”

  “I know. Mama said she worries about him for that very reason. I keep praying for him, but I sure wish I could do something to encourage him – get his mind off the fact that the anniversary of the accident is coming up.”

  “He’s got to come through this himself, Deborah. You can’t force a man to make peace with his own self. Give him time. He’ll come around sooner or later.”

  But Deborah wasn’t at all convinced that he would.

  –––––––

  Lizzie brought Deborah a glass of lemonade and plopped down on a chair opposite her. “Goodness, but it’s hot down here.”

  Deborah laughed. “Yes, and this is only July. Just wait for August.”

  “I can’t imagine it getting any worse.” Lizzie dabbed her damp forehead with the edge of her apron.

  “I suppose Mama had you busy in the garden all morning?”

  “Only for a little while. She was worried about me and the heat, so she wouldn’t let me work for long. I tell you, I feel positively useless to you all. I really shouldn’t have come.”

  Sampling the lemonade, Deborah nearly choked. “What? Why are you saying that?”

  Lizzie shrugged. “It’s just that everyone has their duties and tasks – everyone but me, that is. I’m just living here and eating your food and doing nothing. Your mother wouldn’t even take money from me for my keep.”

  “I’m sure she wouldn’t,” Deborah replied with a grin. “Goodness, but she would never want it said that she charged a guest.”

  “But I wasn’t thinking of it that way. I just wanted to help out.”

  “Don’t fret about it. Mother is glad you came. She said there is nothing she can imagine worse than marrying a man you do not love. One of her sisters did that and it proved to be nothing but misery. Mama often uses Aunt Alva as an example.”

  “Why did she marry a man she didn’t love?”

  “To help the family. Her husband was from Holland and had a great deal of wealth. When he told her they would live there instead of America, she was very unhappy. Mama says her letters are always full of sorrow.”

  “How sad.”

  “Exactly so. Which is why it’s good that you are here and not back in Philadelphia, playing the role of Mrs. Stuart Albright and sending me letters full of sorrow.”

  Lizzie shuddered at the thought. “Even the Texas heat is worth enduring to avoid that. I do wish, however, that Father would write. I can’t help but wonder how Mother took the news. I’d imagine she was quite humiliated.”

  “Or extremely happy,” Deborah offered. “After all, she’s the one who believes women needn’t marry or otherwise have a man in their affairs. She might have been miffed at first, but she’s probably greatly satisfied by now.”

  “I just hope she isn’t too mad. You know how awful she can be when she gets spiteful. Her tirades can be worse than a child’s. I’m glad to have the distance between us.” Lizzie watched as Deborah downed the lemonade. “Would you like more?” she asked.

  “No, I’m fine. I need to get back to work on these ledgers. Some of this,” she waved to a pile of papers, “is quite confusing. I feel I should have schooled in some foreign language just to interpret it, but I don’t know which one might have helped.”

  Lizzie smiled. “Well, before you get back to work, maybe you can help me with this problem of feeling useless. Might there be some sort of job I could take on? Something I could do to benefit the family?”

  “Goodness, no,” Deborah said. “They really don’t look highly on women working in these parts. It’s different for me because this is my family. For you, however, it would be scandalous.”

  “I know my talents are few, but there must be something. What about taking in washing?”

  “And see men’s unmentionables?” Deborah asked in mock horror. “We’d get six weeks of sermons on women of low character from the Bible, only to be punctuated by the preacher standing at the front of the congregation letting a bit of salt run through his hands to remind us of poor Lot’s wife. I can just hear it now.” Deborah cleared her throat and lowered the timbre of her voice:

  “ ‘Women are to be protected and sheltered from the unpleasant things of life. When they stray from such protection, they give themselves over to the influence of Jezebel, Delilah, and Sapphira. Let us remember this, and tremble.’ ”

  Lizzie couldn’t help giggling. “You really do that quite well. Perhaps you should take up preaching.”

  Deborah rolled her eyes. “That is a whole other set of sermons. Truth be told,” she said, settling her gaze on Lizzie, “I agree for the most part. I think that in fighting against the boundaries set before us, often we forsake the good that could be had. I rather like the idea of being sheltered and protected from certain things. Other things . . . well, I suppose I would like to see some matters changed. But I don’t wa
nt it enough to raise the ruckus your mother does.”

  “Me either,” Lizzie agreed. “The very thought of going to jail for something like the cause of women voting is appalling.”

  “Well, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that down here – at least not for a while. Anyway, I wouldn’t worry about having nothing to do. My mother is good about keeping folks busy. I heard her mention that the Texas blacks are just about ready for picking.”

  “Texas blacks?”

  “Grapes. You’ll find that every month there is something new to harvest around here, and my mother has recipes for it all. I wouldn’t fret about being idle. Once you get accustomed to the heat, you’ll be busy enough.”

  Lizzie reached to take the glass. “Are you sure you won’t have another?”

  Deborah shook her head. “No. I’d probably just spill it all over everything, and then all my hard work would be for naught. Please tell Mama thanks for me.”

  “I will.”

  Lizzie bounded out the door just in time to run headlong into G. W. He reached out to take hold of her, but Lizzie still managed to fall against his chest and step on his foot. He continued to hold on to her as she regained her balance.

  “I’m so sorry, G. W. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here. Your mother was out in the garden and . . . well, I just didn’t think.”

  “No harm done. Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.” She looked up and smiled. “How about you? Did I crush your foot?”

  “A little bitty thing like you?” His drawl was thick and more pronounced.

  She laughed. “If I keep eating fried green tomatoes and ham steaks, I won’t be little for long. Gracious, but your Mama can cook.”

  “She sure can. I’m sure if you ask, she’ll learn ya.”

  “When I was in town, Mrs. Greeley told me a girl has to be able to cook a decent meal in order to catch a decent man,” Lizzie said without thinking.

  G. W. surprised her by laughing out loud. “Miss Lizzie, you could do nothing but burn water and still catch a man.”