by Terri Kraus
Jack came by, looking most dapper in a starched white dress shirt—no tie, of course—with a snazzy sport coat and dressy jeans and shoes. He was the perfect embodiment of the rugged, yet sophisticated and caring, contractor. He sat on the sofa with Cameron, trying not to stare or be intrusive. Cameron smiled at him, her and the baby well covered by a hand-knitted Irish blanket.
“You look really nice, Jack. It’s not often we get to see you all dressed up.”
He might have blushed a little.
“And I can’t say I have ever seen you … with a baby, Cameron,” he replied.
She adjusted the infant under the blanket. “The place is absolutely fabulous, Jack. Judging on what happened after Ethan finished the Carter Mansion, you will be swamped with work. He still gets referrals from that job at least once a week.”
“Maybe so,” Jack replied. “It would be nice to stay busy.”
“Oh, you will, Jack. You’ll be hiring a crew before long.”
The baby made cooing noises, and Jack smiled.
“Have you talked to Ethan?” Cameron asked.
“Ethan? He’s here? I didn’t see him. I thought your director brought you down.”
“He did,” Cameron replied. “But Ethan said he wasn’t busy this morning, so he thought he would drive down and drive us home. I haven’t driven since the baby came. I don’t think I want to yet.”
Cameron shifted the baby, then pointed to the window. “There he is. The one with the sixty-four-ounce cup of coffee. And a doughnut! Tell him no more doughnuts. Tell him the doughnut police are after him.”
Jack agreed and hurried outside.
“Good job, Jack,” Ethan said, then stuffed the doughnut into his mouth and offered him his hand.
“Thanks,” Jack answered, giving Ethan’s hand a firm shake. “I wanted to tell you thanks too, Ethan. I learned a lot working with you.”
Ethan finished off the doughnut in two bites. He gestured with his head toward the store. “Did she tell you to yell at me about the doughnut?”
Jack nodded.
“Well, you can tell her you did. With the new baby, she tells me I have to stay in shape, keep healthy. She’s right, but what harm does a doughnut do now and then?”
The crowd, now extended almost to where the two men stood, was getting noisy.
“Let’s walk around the block. The crowd is bugging me,” Ethan said. “Remember, I’m from a small town and just not used to the big city craziness like you folks are.”
The two of them walked west, up one block, and headed to the nearby Ritts Park. They walked in silence, as men often did, building a relationship shoulder-to-shoulder, rather than face-to-face.
They came to a hillock that looked down on the creek, hidden by the foliage of oak trees in the summer, now more visible with the leaves gone.
“Ethan, besides what I learned from you on the job … I wanted to thank you for being a role model for me as well.”
Ethan didn’t turn to him. He simply remained silent, and let Jack talk.
“You knew I had problems … with alcohol … and you still hired me. No lectures. No making me feel guilty. You lived your life in front of me. I saw what happened after you met Cameron. I saw the change in you.”
Jack kicked at a rock with his toe. “I’ve been fighting with God all along. I blamed him for what happened to my family. I blamed him for making me weak. I blamed him for … everything.”
He looked up into the sky. “But that stuff was all my fault. It was just me trying to run things. I was a jerk. I was in bondage to myself. That fight I was having with God—well, now it’s over. I finally figured out that it was easier to lay down my guns than to fight a losing battle. I’ve stopped drinking—this time forever. I have things I want to live for. I want to stay free. I want my life to mean something. Life can be good again.”
He waited. “You know what I mean?”
Ethan did not jump at a reply. In time, he simply said, “I do, Jack. I really do. Completely. Hope renewed is a miraculous thing. I’m really happy for you. I know you can do it—only with God’s help, of course.”
And he put his arm around Jack’s shoulder, just for a moment, then slapped him on the back, as men do. “We better head back. If Cameron doesn’t see me every ten minutes, she panics. I guess a baby can do that to a woman.”
“I guess they can,” Jack replied. “I guess they can.”
The grand opening of Alice and Frank’s remained in high gear. The first fifty people in line had been replaced by a hundred more, and the storefront stayed crowded with happy, smiling people for the entire morning. Alice, exuberant in her smashing, color-coordinated outfit, zigged and zagged through the crowd, greeting and hugging and making sure the lattes were just perfect and that people were being well fed and finding the necessary treasures she had gathered for the store.
Leslie did not understand the retail business, but she assumed that the size of the crowds and the hustle and bustle of the first day was a good sign.
She watched Jack, so very handsome—no, closer to irresistible, she thought—in his sport coat and well-fitting jeans, talking to the reporter from the Butler Eagle, and then the radio announcer from WBUT.
Afterward, she walked over to him. They exchanged a few words, then she grabbed his hand and squeezed, wishing him good luck, and he leaned into her, and whispered back, “Thanks for all you’ve done for me. And thanks for the other night. I didn’t know how much I missed connecting with someone so special.” For a moment, with him so close, it felt to Leslie like they were the only two people in the place, and she wished they could stay that way forever.
Later that morning, because Leslie did not draw strength from crowds, she slipped away and went back to her apartment. Ava had gone to Trevor’s house. Mike had been one of the crowd of early arrivers, with Trevor along for his hot chocolate, which he loved, and chocolate cupcake. Mike had gathered up both his son and Ava and offered to take them home until five that evening.
“Keep them out of your hair,” he’d said to Leslie. “I’m sure you have lots to do.”
She didn’t, but appreciated his kindness.
She’d had enough lattes to keep her engines running for several days. She poured a large glass of ice water. She sat at the kitchen table with Amelia’s Bible again. With lingering disbelief, she ran her hand over the cover and then opened it.
There were twelve more pages of her great-great-great grandmother’s diary tucked away in the Bible. Most had dates. A few did not. She had read one page per day since the Bible had been discovered, rationing out the aged sheets, like gourmet chocolates, too dense and rich to eat more than one at a sitting, too precious to consume in great gulps. Instead Leslie took each single page, read it over and over, seeing a clearer picture into the past, a more complete picture of who Amelia Grace Westland was and who she became. Once married, the entries in the diary had become less frequent, as if the duties of being a wife had become all-consuming.
And now Leslie held in her hands the last four pages, the last entries of Amelia’s diary that had spanned nearly four decades.
Amelia Westland Middelstadt
Butler, Pennsylvania
September 30, 1895
I suspect the risk that someone unintended read these words is still great, but I find great comfort in scribing them to give record of my life’s journey, sort out my thoughts, and shed light on my decisions.
We have been wise in our investments, and we now have capital of a considerable amount in our hands. We desire to know how to use it best. Along with our ongoing contributions to the Butler Asylum for Orphans, I am of the mind to give the majority of the sum to the church, but my husband is not of that mind. He states that we should use most of the sum to construct a building in the growing town of Butler, for a purpose, and
that building, along with our offspring, would be our legacy of sorts to the future.
I counter that monies given to the church would do the same, only of more eternal significance, but I fear that being a man, with more temporal aspirations, and concerned about what comes later in this life for our children, he is reluctant to donate the entire sum.
I pray that God will direct us.
He hath shewed thee, O man, what is good;
and what doth the LORD require of thee, but to do justly,
and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?
—Micah 6:8
Amelia Westland Middelstadt
Butler, Pennsylvania
June 10, 1897
On this day was held the ribbon-cutting ceremony for the Midlands Building. Samuel designated it so, deriving it from parts of the names Middelstadt and Westland, so as to stand proudly on its corner as a landmark to our heritage. I was astounded at the considerable throng that gathered for the event. The assemblage was regaled with speeches and toasts, after which a substantial repast for the various town burgesses and councilmen and members of the General Assembly of Butler County, who were in attendance, was served at the Willard Hotel. It was a fine affair.
It was announced that a managerial arrangement has been contracted, whereby Samuel shall set up a Mr. and Mrs. Finch in a pharmacy and variety store, a most welcome addition to Butler, which shall occupy the first-floor space of our building. The Finches’ living quarters shall be above the store on the second floor. The Finches are the most delightful of folks, and they have made great plans for their establishment to be the finest to thus far grace the town. Andrew Finch has great skill as a pharmacist. I am drawn to Cecilia Finch’s energetic and artistic nature. She has set about procuring an abundant array of dry goods—embroidered silks, fine woolens, laces, and calicos—to be sold in the variety store. This has, of course, caused quite a stir among the ladies of Butler. It will no longer be necessary to journey to Pittsburgh to purchase textiles and many other items of fashion that Mrs. Finch will offer for sale, such as can be seen in Godey’s Ladies Book.
And in that day shall ye say, Praise the LORD,
call upon his name, declare his doings among the people,
make mention that his name is exalted. Sing unto the LORD;
for he hath done excellent things: this is known in all the earth.
—Isaiah 12:4–5
Amelia Westland Middelstadt
Butler, Pennsylvania
October 12, 1903
Today I don my dress of black crape, the mark of my bereavement. Samuel has breathed his last, leaving me a widow in my forty-first year. It is the common lot of men, the just and the unjust alike. Yet even though expected after his long illness, it is not without much pain and sorrow—for the children especially. The servants, too, are all in mourning, for Samuel was a gentle and generous master of this house. All is in readiness for services this day, to be held at our new Second Presbyterian Church. It is fitting, says Reverend Ekstrom, that Samuel’s funeral be the first, since he had been so liberal in his contributions to the building and his bequeathment of a large sum to the church. Henry has been most helpful in seeing to all necessary arrangements, and Catherine is my ever-present comfort.
Dear Samuel was good and wise to leave his affairs in order, and shall be greatly missed. I am left, with the help of God, to carry on as best as I am able. I scribe here the Scripture most beloved by Samuel, which is his character portrayed:
Be kindly affectioned one to another with brotherly love; in honour preferring one another; Not slothful in business; fervent in spirit; serving the Lord; Rejoicing in hope; patient in tribulation; continuing instant in prayer; Distributing to the necessity of saints; given to hospitality. Bless them which persecute you: bless, and curse not. Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep. Be of the same mind one toward another. Mind not high things, but condescend to men of low estate. Be not wise in your own conceits. Recompense to no man evil for evil. Provide things honest in the sight of all men. If it be possible, as much as lieth in you, live peaceably with all men.
Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord. Therefore if thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink: for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head. Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good.
—Romans 12:10–21
Amelia Westland Middelstadt
Butler, Pennsylvania
November 17, 1912
I am close to death. I have asked my faithful Catherine to procure this book from the place where it was secreted, and once more she has proved herself my steadfast friend—though she need not, after all these years of devoted companionship.
I am not long for this world—it is certain. The young doctor is kind, but he has no miracle, no skill, no magic nor vial, that can prevent the eventual death that will befall us all.
I wish now that I had written every day in this, my diary, but when I was younger, I felt the days too filled with such urgencies upon my hours. Now, as I struggle to read, there are so many gaps, so many things unsaid in my feeble words and writings. For all intents and appearances, one could say of my life that, in the end, it has been full and good. And yet …
I wonder … if so many years ago … I made the most fitting choice. I wonder now, perhaps every day, in my isolation and feebleness, whatever became of my dear, dear, Julian Beck. I now confess that, unbidden, my thoughts would go to him so very often—sometimes most distressingly during my most intimate moments with Samuel. But there was no remedy for it. I have come to realize that he had irrevocably claimed in large part my heart, and there was no unclaiming once staked, even from my first glimpses of him while just a very young girl, alone and most susceptible to a virile man of his considerable charms. How utterly smitten was I! How great was his fervor for life, how ardent his love of God, how strong the call of the wider world on his soul.
He made his discreet departure from Butler shortly after Samuel and I were wed. It must have been exceedingly hurtful to him, but I had no opportunity to discuss my decision. To my great regret, I was young and perhaps foolish, or not foolish enough, confused by my trepidations, the instabilities of my youth.
But I … I loved him, and I see now, after many years distilled by deep longing, of remembering all that he had been to me, and is still, I should have listened to my heart. I should have insisted that we marry and that we, as husband and wife, set off to do God’s work. Would he have complied with such a demand? I will never know, for I made no attempt to find out.
I did not, and therein lies the difference: security, stability, and safety over uncertainties and passion and adventure.
I ask whoever reads these pages to first: follow God, and then to follow their heart, their truest and deepest heart, for not doing so will lead to a life of quiet regrets.
“We take no note of time, but by its loss.”
I pray that God may receive me into His kingdom, despite my human frailties.
But I have trusted in thy mercy; my heart shall rejoice in thy salvation.
I will sing unto the LORD, because he hath dealt bountifully with me.
—Psalm 13:5–6
The LORD knoweth the days of the upright:
and their inheritance shall be for ever.
—Psalm 37:18
Leslie sat, in disbelief, in utter astonishment, her finger tracing the sentences, stopping at words, reading lines twice, and then once again.
Follow God. Follow your heart.
Leslie had hoped for signs, never expecting to receive them. She had listened for portents, never expecting to hear them. She had asked God for a light upon her path, revealing His will, never really expecting to
blink in the brilliance of an answer.
Is this the answer I’ve wanted? Is this the question I have been asking?
She sat, in silence, for a long time that afternoon, almost forgetting that Ava was to be picked up at five.
At 4:55, she finally noticed the clock, grabbed her coat and keys, and flew down the stairs.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
THE GRAND OPENING OF ALICE and Frank’s had been a great success. Alice declared it a triumph beyond her wildest expectations. More than one thousand people passed through the doors that Saturday. All of them, she stated, loved everything about the place.
“They will be back,” she predicted. “All of them.”
Now the sky was dark, the storefront empty of people and closed for the night. Both Alice and Frank said planning on an early closing was the only sane thing they had done in weeks. They planned, in the future, to be open Sundays, but not until all the systems proved themselves reliable and they both had built up their endurance.
“Can I get a cupcake?” Ava asked. “The ones with the flowers you can eat on top? Mrs. Alice said I could have every cupcake that they didn’t sell today. Can we go and look? You have the key, don’t you, Mommy?”
Leslie did indeed have the key, to both the front door and the rear entrance. And she was too filled with emotion to argue the point.
“Sure, honey, we can go look. But we’ll use the back entrance, okay? And turn on only a few lights, so we don’t cause any fuss.”
Ava jumped up and ran to the back door of the apartment and bounced down the steps. Leslie followed and unlocked the store’s back door. Ava hurried in to the Ferrari-like display case.
“There’s still four left, Mommy. I can have all of them, right? Mrs. Alice said so.”
“We’ll take them all. You can have one tonight. We’ll save the rest until tomorrow. Okay?”
