Lilacs for Juliana (The Christy Lumber Camp Series Book 3)

by Carrie Fancett Pagels

  “Of course.”

  “Fine job, by the way, of fully implementing Mr. Dewey’s system.” He offered his crooked, and charming, grin.

  “It’s how I was trained.”

  “One of the advantages of being a younger librarian from a progressive college.” He briefly quirked his eyebrows, but his tone was serious.

  The head librarian, whom she had replaced, had balked at the notion of bringing the library’s holdings all in under this system and had ultimately resigned. “This is what the board wanted.”

  “I’ve actually come to beg your indulgence in a plan that has been approved, just now, by your board of trustees.” He raised his arms and set his hands on either side of the bookcases, boxing her in.

  “Oh?” She fought the urge to duck under his arms and bolt from the library. Dread coursed through her like being swallowed up in a huge Lake Michigan wave.

  Mr. Yost beamed like a child with a new toy. “I’ve received permission for your friend, Miss, er, rather Sister Mary Lou, to accompany you and Miss Gracie to Milwaukee.”

  “Milwaukee?” She dipped her chin and rolled her eyes up at him as she often did with difficult patrons.

  “You and Miss Gracie shall assist me in bringing order to my personal library.” He tapped his fingers on the shelves.

  Her heart hammered with such vigor she could hear it pumping in her ears. “In your home?”

  “Yes. You’d each have your own suite. And a maid.” He dropped his hands to his side. “We’d travel by steamship.”

  No contract had arrived yet for her nor for Gracie. She ran her tongue over her top lip and straightened. “Miss Gracie’s compensation?”

  He casually named an amount that equaled half of Juliana’s yearly wages and she tried not to gasp. “And I shall make every effort to obtain suitable employment for her so she can remain in Milwaukee when you and Sister Mary Lou depart in a month.”

  “A month?” she croaked.

  The wealthy man leaned in and raised his hand to his mouth as though to keep his words secret. “I have every hope that Sister Mary Lou will get the rest she so richly deserves, and shall return renewed with vigor.”

  Her friend refreshed, her assistant employed and resituated. How tempting. But what about Richard?

  But with him being maybe twenty-three and she twenty-eight, how could this relationship work? No, it was not to be. He’d find a young bride who could bear him many little lumberjacks.

  “I have a contract, though, Mr. Yost—that I am waiting on.”

  “You’ll receive twice the amount Gracie is paid, plus I’m assured your contract will be waiting.”

  Her brain seemed to have stopped working when Mr. Yost said she’d receive twice Gracie’s wages. Why, that was an entire year’s worth of wages in one month! She could put money in the bank for Mother and Claudette and Melanie and the children. She refocused on Mr. Yost’s words. Had he said, “when you return” or had he said, “If you return” just now? Had she imagined the latter?

  Gracie would not be able to refuse this offer. And Juliana didn’t see how she could, either. This must be the reason Mr. Hatchens was so happy. And perhaps he’d only hired his nephew to come because he’d had an inkling of Mr. Yost’s plan. “Your offer is extremely generous, but…” What were his expectations?

  “Let me assure you, all will be above board, Miss Beauchamps. I have a pristine reputation in the community to maintain.”

  But would she be back for The Lumberjacks’ Ball? Did it matter? Perhaps some time apart would be good for her and Richard.

  His eyes crinkled in compassion and he took her hand in his, his touch surprisingly gentle—like that of a father with a child. “I’m so distressed that Mr. Christy has no intention of courting you. He certainly gave every appearance of wishing to do so.”

  Heat rushed to her cheeks. So someone had pointed out their age difference. And Richard had made it clear he’d not be pursuing her. This revelation cemented her decision. Why bother worrying about the ball? “Sounds perfect, Mr. Yost.”

  The next day, after Juliana had explained everything to Claudette, both she and Melanie berated her for believing James Yost.

  “Why do you think that rich man is telling you such an obvious story, Juliana?” Her sister-in-law poured herself another cup of coffee. “Don’t be so naïve.”

  Claudette arched a golden brow. “Even I know these wealthy men think they can do as they please. Your reputation will be in tatters.”

  “But Sister Mary Lou will be with us.” Juliana had already packed her clothes into Mother’s leather-covered trunk.

  “Richard Christy is in love with you, Juliana.” Melanie sipped her coffee, made a face, and then reached for the sugar bowl.

  Claudette wagged a finger at Juliana. “He’s sweet on you. Don’t give up on him!”

  “Come out to the camp with us this morning. You’ll have the rest of the afternoon to finish packing, if you don’t believe us.” Melanie poured more cream into her coffee and stirred, a dreamy look on her pretty face. “The look on his face, when he’s with you, is just like your brother looked at me.”

  Juliana clasped Melanie’s free hand. “I’m so sorry you lost him. I really am.”

  “Pascal died too young.” Her sister-in-law wiped a tear from her cheek. “But that wasn’t my point. It’s that I’m concerned about this beer baron, and you need to be careful.”

  “And we need to test out our theory about where Richard’s heart lies.” Claudette pointed out the window to where Timmy, Marcus, and Stephen were loading small, immature lilac bushes into the back of their wagon.

  Juliana stood to look out. Then she laughed.

  Melanie set her coffee cup into her saucer with a loud clink. “Mr. Yost may be jealous of Richard and want to eliminate him as an option for your affections.”

  “Let’s give Richard a chance to know where you stand with him. Make a lilac declaration of your intentions, Juliana.” Claudette beamed.

  Before she knew it, Juliana had been hustled off to the Christy Lumber Camp. Now, dressed in her clean work clothes, her hair upswept, and the back of the wagon full of immature lilac bushes, she was to try to elicit his attention.

  This would be her test of Richard Christy’s feelings for her. When she arrived, Juliana gathered the young lilac bushes from the back of the wagon and placed them into a child’s wagon she’d borrowed from her sister-in-law. One by one, she set the trees and bushes into the bottom and then pulled it toward the main cabin in the camp. If Richard didn’t get the hint by her planting the lilacs, then he never would. Those lilacs, and her bringing them here, were her bold pronouncement of her interest in him and of being with him. And he couldn’t be so dense that he wouldn’t understand that bringing her favorite flower to the camp meant she wanted to be there—near him. With him, if God so chose.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Juliana.” Sven pronounced her name like Huliana, which would have made her smile, had she not been so nervous.

  “Good day.”

  “Ja. It is.” Richard’s assistant cocked his head at her. “Can we help you?”

  “Maybe.” Maybe not. “I’d like to spruce up around Richard’s cottage—make it more homey.”

  “Ja. A good idea.”

  The camp handyman strode up. “What have we got here?”

  “Lilacs for the lumber camp.”

  “Ja, and plenty of them, Mr. Bell,” Sven informed the handyman.

  A furrow formed between the man’s eyebrows, and he didn’t move, as though reluctant to comply. He looked familiar.

  “Are you Avery Bell? My brothers’ friend?” Mother had pointed him out long ago. Would her brothers, had they lived, appear much like this man, with lines etching their face and their hair streaked with gray? Or more like Richard’s father, who appeared more vigorous and youthful? The Christy patriarch might even be younger than her eldest brother would have been. She swallowed.

  “Yes, I am. And you must be Juliana�
��your Ma’s comfort after she lost them. Sure do wish they’d come back home with me…”

  “Me, too.” Her childhood fantasy of her brothers being carried off by Paul Bon Jean took a beating.

  “Avery.” Sven’s pronunciation drew the man’s name out into three long syllables, like a parent did when trying to urge a child to do something. “Let me get a few shanty boys to help with those bushes.”

  “You going to have the men dig the spots for her plants, then, eh?”

  “Ja,” Sven called over his broad shoulder.

  Avery shook his head first, but then smiled at her. “That man would have to be blind to ignore what you’re offering him, Miss Beauchamps. And although I’m not a gambling man, I’m willing to bet not only will those lilacs be settled before sundown, but there’s one exceptionally tall lumber camp boss who’ll bend down on one knee.” He winked at her and headed off toward one of the small buildings that encircled the yard.

  Juliana patted her cheeks, still feeling the warmth from Mr. Bell’s comment. Was he right? She hoped so. As she trod across the yard, she inhaled the invigorating scent of fresh lumber.

  To her left a long, narrow building paralleled an older building—likely the single men’s bunkhouse. Scattered around the land were small shack-like cottages. Those must be for the married men. But how did they get their wives to put up with such small quarters? She cringed. Maybe some of the lilacs should be planted around those tiny houses—to cheer up the occupants who’d soon arrive. Maybe if they knew their surroundings would be prettier in the spring…

  The scent of smoked ham and something sweet, maybe cherry tarts, carried on the lake breeze. Juliana followed her nose to a large, rough wood building. Outside in the sunshine, seated on a bench, Claudette peeled potatoes. Standing over her, his back to Juliana, Richard talked with her. Juliana stilled. Neither of the pair had yet seen her. Claudette laughed at something Richard said, and then gazed up at him in what looked like adoration.

  Richard leaned in, wanting to make sure Juliana’s sister heard him. “Like I said, Claudette, even the squirrels have a purpose in God’s kingdom.”

  She laughed, a rich throaty sound, like her sister’s. “Do I look like a squirrel?”

  “No.” He rubbed his chin and then placed his foot on a nearby stump. “What I’m saying is, although you’re not able to stand all day in the kitchen, you’ve been a great help, and we’re happy to keep you on.”

  “Happy?” Her coy tone sent skitters of apprehension though him.

  Oh my, he better get this back on track right quick. “Well, of course—the men love your desserts the best, and the way to get a shanty boy to work harder is to feed him well.”

  “Oh pooh.” She bent her head back over her bowl of carrots. “What about Sven? Is he happy I’m here?”

  A whoosh of sound escaped Richard’s lips before he could stop it. She looked up, alarm tightening her pretty features.

  “Sven is…well…” Maybe he should leave it to Sven to say he was engaged to Ruth—a sweetheart of a girl. She should be arriving soon, with her little sisters, and possibly her father.

  “He’s the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.”

  “Yes, well handsome is as handsome does.” One of Ma’s favorite expressions. This was not the way to start off a new camp; with his assistant camp manager pursued by Claudette Beauchamps.

  “Hello there!” Juliana’s voice carried false cheerfulness that set his jaw muscle jumping. He turned around to face her, smiling. But her smile was the fake one that she fixed on her face for difficult patrons of the library. What had he done now to deserve this expression of irritation?

  She’d almost joined them, when Richard spied Dr. Adams-Payne entering the men’s bunkhouse. He needed to catch the man before their part-time camp doctor headed back to Newberry. The man had a habit of lighting out of the camp before Richard could converse with him. “Excuse me, I have to talk with the doc.”

  He caught up with him, wanting to hurry the physician, so he could get back to Juliana. “Doc, what do you think of the conditions here? Everything look good to you?”

  This was the largest and newest bunkhouse they’d ever had.

  “Looks hygienic enough.” Adams-Payne scanned the long rows of bunks that had plenty of space between them, unlike some camps. “As long as you don’t overwork the men like some of the camps do.”

  “I intend to run things like my Pa did, and we never had any complaints.” Other than the too-close bunks, which he’d corrected in this new building. “As far as the work, we’d not had grumbling from any men who were willing to work the same as we all did.”

  The man, who stood a good ten inches shorter than him, looked up and smiled. “You appear to be a very physically fit specimen of a man.”

  “Specimen?”

  He laughed. “Never mind. I meant it as a compliment. You’re a healthy, strong, young man. You need to keep in mind that you’ll have some men come in with ailments that don’t allow them to keep your pace. Do you understand?”

  “I’ll keep that in mind, Doc.” Richard hadn’t really pondered that notion before, but it made some sense. If he set the pace and it was too fast, some of the men would either get discouraged or tire themselves out, making them prone to illness.

  “Good.” Dr. Adams-Payne turned to look where the Beauchamps ladies were.

  “Say, would you like to come have some dinner before you head out?” Richard jerked a thumb toward the cook house.

  “That would be delightful—give me a chance to see if you’re serving healthy victuals, too.”

  “Don’t know that Claudette’s apple cobbler is healthy, but it sure is good. And I think I smell cherry pie, too.”

  They stepped out of the sawdust-strewn room and onto the clover covered ground.

  “So, would you consider Miss Beauchamps your young lady, Mr. Christy?”

  “I sure wish she was, Doc, but I ain’t gettin’ much interest from her. Could be because I need to straighten some things out between the two of us.” Such as that he’d never said he wasn’t interested in courting her. If she got wind of that, who knew what she might do. On the other hand, he didn’t need her getting any of Jo’s misinformation that the two of them had an understanding.

  The man tugged at his elbow and they stopped. “You’re her employer, you should watch yourself. Miss Claudette Beauchamps has some frailties, as you surely comprehend. And is in no position to fend off…”

  Richard raised his hands in surrender. “No, ya got the wrong one—Miss Juliana is a librarian for the city of St. Ignace.” He dropped his arms to his sides.

  “Ah.” The doctor adjusted his tie and then his hat. What had him so rattled? “Her sister is a fetching young woman, despite her tart tongue.”

  “She’s the sweetest natured gal I’ve met around these parts. You’ve formed the wrong perception.”

  Dr. Adams-Payne fixed a look on him. “Must I also conduct a mental examination with you, Mr. Christy?”

  Richard laughed. “That gal has only been feisty with one person that I know of—and that is you, Doc.”

  “I see.” Adams-Payne twitched into a smile. “I hope you’ll provide adequate protection for her.”

  “Of course.” He didn’t need to be told to attend to a lady’s needs. He’d taken good care of Jo and had helped save Rebecca. Richard clenched and then released his fists.

  They strode on in silence, the doctor’s eyes fixed ahead on the two young women. Or was his gaze focused on one blonde woman?

  Richard gestured toward the doctor. “Juliana and Claudette, I believe you’ve met the doc before.”

  Dr. Adams-Payne nodded at Juliana and then bent over Claudette and took her hand in his. He bowed deeply, as their elderly camp driver, Frenchie, might do if he was there. Then Adams-Payne pressed a kiss to Claudette’s hand. “Enchanted, Miss Beauchamps, to see you again.”

  Her face reddened, highlighting a butterfly-like pattern that crossed her nose,
connecting both cheeks. The physician straightened, but then leaned back in.

  “May I?” He placed a hand near her face.

  Claudette pressed a hand to her cheeks. “Oh, no, is it there again?”

  “The telltale rash, yes. I’ve seen this before, young lady.” The doctor sat next to her. “Why are you sitting out here? Are you fatigued?”

  “No, I…” She exhaled a puff of air. “Yes, I am, but I’m so much better than I was.”

  He turned to face Juliana. “How have her symptoms been?”

  “Ask her.” Juliana pointed back to Claudette. “My younger sister is twenty-four-years-old and quite capable of explaining her condition to you herself.”

  Nearby, men rolled wheelbarrows filled with lilac bushes past them. Juliana waited with bated breath. Would Richard notice?

  The camp boss stuck his thumb and forefinger in his mouth and whistled loudly, before stomping off after the men. “What do ya think yer doin’?”

  A tawny-hair youth glanced in her direction. “Lilac bushes to put in.”

  “Says who?” Richard barked. She’d never seen him so angry, and Juliana shrank into herself, trembling.

  Sven jogged over to them. “Ja, what’s wrong, boss?”

  “Who in tarnation got such a fool idea in their head?” Richard’s accusation made her head throb. Obviously, he’d not remembered what had been shared in the privacy of his cabin—that lilacs were her favorite flower—and that she’d not be living anywhere they didn’t thrive.

  Claudette cast her a look of sympathy.

  “Miss Beauchamps brought them out.”

  “Well, she can take them right back home.” Richard lowered his head and stomped off toward the men’s barracks.

  She would not cry. Would not. Still, one defiant tear trickled down her cheek and she swiped it away.

  “Juliana, come tell Dr. Adams-Payne about your trip to Milwaukee.” Claudette waved her over. “Perhaps he can prescribe something to settle your stomach.”

  If only that would cure what ailed her.