by DiAnn Mills
“I’ll make sure she knows you inquired about her health. Would you like to leave a specific message?”
Turner appeared to contemplate the matter before speaking. “Yes. Please give her my sincere regards. She needn’t fret in the delay. Her health is much more important. We can continue our search for information about Jessica when she’s recovered.” He tugged on his gloves. “Oh, and if she needs assistance moving into the boardinghouse, I am available.”
“Of course. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
Turner stood. “Not a thing. Good day, Dr. Andrews.”
Grant ushered him to the front hallway and opened the door. Turner had confirmed his suspicions. The two were traveling together, and Jessica and Miss Martin were related. But what kind of information were they seeking?
*****
Grant watched Miss Martin steal another look at Rebecca. The two more than favored each other. Even the woman’s facial expressions matched those of his little daughter. He had introduced Rebecca as his child and had stated that her mother had died in childbirth. Later, when Jenny and Grant found the time to talk, he might explain the situation to her.
Mostly he wanted her gone from his home. I’m a grown man, and I’m threatened by a woman who is barely tall enough to reach my shoulders.
Early that morning while the night sky still darkened the world, he’d spent over an hour in prayer. What happened to all the peace that had enveloped him then? He needed a heavy dose of it now—more like an injection.
Grant continued to study, as inconspicuously as possible, the comely young woman seated across from him. Her face had slightly more color than yesterday, and she’d made the effort to join them for breakfast. He noticed that she dressed very much in fashion—dark full skirt and a white blouse with a high lace collar. Why women insisted upon those hundreds of tiny pearl buttons was beyond him. Her hair had been gathered at the top of her head and pulled into a loose knot with strands of curls framing her face. His Rebecca would be just as lovely.
“You look much better this morning, Miss Martin,” he said. “I trust your health is improving.”
“Thank you, Dr. Andrews. I’m really feeling like my old self, and I do appreciate what you and Miss Mimi have done for me. Your excellent care is commendable.” She sighed, or rather her thin shoulders lifted slightly. “Breakfast is lovely. I never thought oatmeal could taste this splendid.”
She did have a musical quality about her voice. “You’re quite welcome, and my name is Grant. We don’t need formalities here.” He wiped oatmeal from Rebecca’s chin.
“And please, call me Jenny.”
He gave her a genuine smile. “I’d like for you to eat soft foods for a couple more days, and you should be fine. Please rest often until you feel all of your strength has returned. You don’t need another occurrence of the past few days. And I wouldn’t drink milk. It might upset your stomach.”
“No danger of that. I despise milk . . . Goodness, I’m sorry. I forgot your daughter was sitting here.” Jenny stiffened, and her eyes widened.
Grant laughed. “Don’t concern yourself with it. She has her own views on the matter, and believe me, none of them are good.”
“I don’t yike it.” Rebecca shook her head and tossed her curls. “But Papa makes me drink a little.”
“My sister didn’t care for milk, either.”
And Grant knew, without a doubt, that Jenny understood the relationship between Rebecca and Jessica. There would be no pretense. He must obtain some answers soon.
“Do you feel up to discussing a matter after breakfast? I’m free until about eight thirty.” Grant pulled his pocket watch from inside his jacket and checked the time.
“Certainly. Do you want to talk now?” Jenny lifted her chin, but he detected a quiver of her lips.
This will not be amiable. I can feel it in my bones. This conversation would not be about Jessica’s grave site. “I believe that is an excellent idea. I’ll just take the coffeepot with us into my office, as long as Mimi doesn’t mind keeping an eye on Rebecca.”
With the housekeeper’s consent, Grant ushered Jenny from the dining room, down the hallway, and into his office near the front door. Breathing a prayer for wisdom, he shut the heavy oaken double doors behind them. Two windows had been opened earlier, providing a pleasant breeze and lightly scenting the room with the fresh, lingering fragrance of roses. He needed something pleasant this morning to divert his gathering apprehension.
“Do sit down, Jenny.” Grant pointed to one of the two chairs normally used by patients. Once she seated herself, he sat across from her. “I admit this discussion is of concern to me. Before I get started, is there anything you need to ask or tell me?”
Jenny paused as though contemplating his request. “I need to know the amount of my bill. I’m planning to move into the boardinghouse this afternoon, and I don’t want to leave owing you money.”
“There’s no charge.”
Jenny sat more rigid than the ladies he knew. She clutched her hands so tightly that her knuckles turned white.
“Why?” she said.
“I don’t charge family.” He stared straight into her huge brown eyes, too much like his beloved daughter’s. “I’m assuming Jessica was your sister.”
She fidgeted, and Grant waited.
“I always pay my obligations,” she said.
“Not this time.”
“Did my sister?”
“She didn’t have an opportunity.”
“Are you Rebecca’s real father?”
“The adoption papers state so.” Grant fought to gain control of a slowly rising irritation with the woman before him. “Jenny, why are you in Kahlerville?”
Silence permeated the room—so quiet that Grant heard the wind rustling through the trees.
“Do I need to repeat my question?” He allowed a moment for her to reply. “My intentions are not to be rude. I simply want an answer.” He leaned back in his chair and ignored the pounding of his heart.
She squeezed her hands together more tightly than before. “I came to see my sister’s grave . . . and to escort my niece back to Cleveland where she belongs.”
Chapter 4
Jenny realized she’d spoken rashly the moment the words escaped her lips. Color rose in Grant’s face. A twinge of fear twisted inside her, as though Father sat opposite her. She hadn’t planned to be insensitive or cruel but logical. Surely Rebecca was a burden to him and Miss Mimi. Jenny pushed aside the scene of Rebecca and Grant sharing lunch yesterday. The memory tugged at her heart with a longing for someone to love and be loved as she saw with them. But sentiments were for another time. She’d come this far with the quest for her niece, and she must continue.
Grant cleared his throat. “Excuse me, Miss Martin, but Rebecca is my daughter. I would be more than happy to show you Jessica’s grave and relate to you those final moments of her life, but you are not taking your niece anywhere.” Grant spoke with control, but his gaze challenged her. “She is my daughter.”
“I know she’s legally yours. My parents hired a Pinkerton to locate Jessica after she left home. He informed us of my sister’s social status.” She lifted her chin. “And of her passing after she gave birth to an illegitimate daughter. Surely, Dr. Andrews, you can see that, as Rebecca’s aunt, I am the proper guardian. Perhaps you need some time—”
“I don’t need any time to consider your ridiculous, unreasonable request.” The color in Grant’s face now resembled a ripe tomato.
Deep inside, Jenny wanted to cease speaking. She sounded cruel, uncaring, not even diplomatic. “But you have no wife, only a housekeeper. Rebecca takes her meals in the dining room instead of in the kitchen where she needs to learn proper etiquette until age fourteen before joining adults.” Perspiration dotted her forehead and trickled down the side of her face.
“Are you questioning my parenting abilities?”
Jenny caught her breath. She’d gone too far. “I said nothing of
the sort. From what I’ve seen, you’re a fine father. But think about Rebecca’s future. She needs to learn the proprieties of society. Unless—”
“Unless what?”
“Unless you are her true father. Why else would you adopt an illegitimate baby from a woman who made her living in a brothel?”
Grant leaned forward. “I have no idea who fathered Rebecca. Jessica asked me to raise her as my own, and I gave my word.”
“When did she make this request?”
“When she lay dying . . . moments after Rebecca’s birth.”
Desperation bubbled in Jenny’s throat. “My sister did not have the capacity to make rational decisions. Anyone who saw the senseless things she did would attest to her irresponsibility. Our parents have suffered long enough. She disgraced them with her utter selfishness. They grieve her death. They grieve her mistakes. Let me have Rebecca. I beg of you. They need a glimmer of hope from the daughter they lost.”
“And it took you more than two years to reach that conclusion?”
“I’m here now.”
He shook his head and laughed. “A little late for afterthoughts. Is taking my daughter from those who love her for your parents’ benefit or yours? Because I haven’t heard one word about love for your sister or Rebecca.”
“I’m basing my claims on reality.”
“Am I to be enlightened by your argument?”
She heard the bitterness in every word. He’d been pushed to his limit.
“I’m sorry for the way I broached this subject,” she said. “I want what’s best for my niece, and I believe that is with her own family. You are right in stating a good bit of time has elapsed. I had to work and save the money to arrange transportation here.” Jenny locked battle with her gaze. He had to see she was right.
“Posting a missive doesn’t cost a cent. I’d have paid for it. And what about your parents? Were they not able to send a letter, either? I fail to see a display of concern over the welfare of Rebecca. Help me to understand your sudden change of heart for a sister for whom you obviously had little affection.”
Jenny’s head throbbed. She’d utterly failed in this endeavor. “I can’t speak any more of family matters.”
“But you have no problem prying into mine.”
“I believe our conversation is finished, Dr. Andrews.” Jenny stood on wobbly legs. “I will be moving from here within the hour. Please have my bill ready for payment. I do regret that I haven’t been able to communicate what is in my heart. Perhaps we can talk at a later date.”
“Our conversation is not over.” Grant moved to the door and blocked her exit. His presence loomed over her. She would hear what he had to say, whether she chose to or not.
“You may do as you wish, but first you will listen to me. How you feel about your sister is certainly your affair, but how you speak of her is another matter. She happens to be my daughter’s mother. Moments ago, you made derogatory remarks about Jessica, and I would appreciate it for my daughter’s sake that such comments never occur again.” He appeared much calmer than she. “While you are in my home or in the presence of my daughter or any of us who love and care for her, you are forbidden to defame Jessica’s memory. She died a good woman, and she believed I would be a suitable father for her child. I accepted the task. I am not a perfect man, but I love my daughter with all my heart. Neither you nor anyone else will ever take her from me. Is that clearly understood?”
“I’ve upset you, and I apologize—”
He raised his hand, and the gesture silenced her. “You can examine the adoption papers and do whatever else you feel is necessary. Yet understand this: Rebecca Faith Andrews is my child. She is not the fancy of an impetuous, demanding woman who has no more manners than to enter a man’s home and declare his child her property. Good day, Miss Martin. As I stated before, there are no charges for my services. Jessica was family, and you are her sister.”
Jenny’s face grew warm. “I have not traveled all this distance just to turn around and go back home. We have matters to discuss and settle.”
“When you are able to discuss things calmly, perhaps.” He opened the door of his study. “Good day, Miss Martin.”
*****
Grant listened to the sharp click of Jenny’s heels as she marched across the foyer’s wooden floor to the stairway. He closed the door a bit more soundly than usual, repressing a deep desire to slam it until the whole house shook. And once the house shook and the window panes rattled, he’d do the same to Miss Jenny Martin. Anger invaded every part of his body, and he instinctively paced the floor to dispel its fervor. He’d gladly carry all of Jenny Martin’s bags and that massive trunk down the stairs to his wagon and on to the boardinghouse.
So, Jenny Martin came to Kahlerville to whisk away my daughter! How perfectly virtuous of her. He pounded his fist into his palm.
Grant considered how Jenny had paid little attention to Rebecca at breakfast except to make a comment here and there. Not at all the actions one would expect from an aunt who had never seen her niece before. No tender, endearing looks or endless questions about the first two years of his daughter’s life. Rather, she observed her cautiously, as though fearing something.
“Humph.” She probably had been assessing his abilities as a father and planned to make full report of it to some fancy city lawyer. Not one word of love or affection for Jessica—her own sister. The woman didn’t even know how to respect the dead. He’d like nothing better than to follow her right up those stairs and escort her out of town.
She’d never set foot in this house again. And as far as visiting Rebecca—well, Jenny could see her from a distance with Mimi or him. Jenny should have stayed in Cleveland where she belonged. And what about her parents? Who would allow a single young woman to travel across the country in the company of that . . . that dandy?
He persisted in pacing the room, fuming with each reflection. His heart raced until his pulse thundered throughout his body. So intense were his emotions that he barely heard a faint knock.
“Papa,” the little voice said. “Papa.”
Taking a deep breath, Grant opened the door and bent down to his little daughter. Just seeing her soothed his vehement emotions. “Yes, sweetheart.” He brushed a wispy curl from her face.
“Lady cry.” She pointed to the stairs and searched his face for an answer.
“Did she say anything to you?” Fury threatened to take over his last bit of control. Rebecca shook her head, and her brown eyes grew even bigger. “Lady kiss me.”
She pointed to her cheek.
“Miss Martin kissed you?” Grant said, surprised at Jenny’s display of affection.
His daughter nodded and reached for Grant to take her. Trembling, she wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head against his shoulder.
Remorse for his burst of temper pricked Grant’s heart. His angry words had frightened Rebecca, the one person he wanted to protect.
“Why lady cry?” Rebecca said.
Shame needled at him. He could have handled the situation much better than this. Look what his self-righteous attitude had caused.
“Papa?”
Grant looked into his daughter’s sweet face and kissed her cheek. “I’m sorry Papa’s loud voice scared you.”
“Scare lady, too.”
Oh, Lord, out of the mouths of babes do we hear the truth. He lifted her chin. “Then I’m going to take you to Mimi and go see about Miss Martin.”
“You kiss her and tell her you’re sorry?”
Not in a million years. “I will apologize and see that she’s fine.”
He carried Rebecca into the dining room and set her in Mimi’s lap. The older woman’s eyes mirrored her curiosity.
“I’m going upstairs to talk to Jenny,” Grant said. “Rebecca said she was crying.”
“I saw.” Mimi moistened her lips. “Rebecca, sweetheart, why don’t you help me by carrying the spoons into the kitchen?”
The child smiled happily. �
�Yes, ma’am.” Scooting off Mimi’s lap, she gathered up the utensils.
“Walk very slowly,” Mimi said, “and put them on the kitchen table. You can count them, too.”
Grant watched Rebecca disappear. “Did you hear anything?”
“I’m old, not deaf. I heard more than I cared to.”
“Didn’t handle it well, did I?”
“Better than I would.” Her dark blue eyes smoldered. “Left to me, you’d be calling the sheriff by now. I’d have given her more than a piece of my mind.”
Grant sighed. “I wasn’t a gentleman. Not only did my shouting upset Jenny and Rebecca, but it also displeased God. I’m going to apologize and hope I don’t lose my temper again.” He turned to leave, then glanced back into the woman’s disquieting face. “Pray for me. I’m going to need it.”
“Murder has crossed my mind.”
He forced a chuckle. “That’s the least of what has crossed mine.”
Grant walked back into the front hallway where the circular staircase wound to the upper bedrooms. A rag doll sat precariously on the first step, its head touching its toes as though waiting for a tumble. Without a thought, he placed the doll upright, thinking he felt the same way. Resting his hand briefly on the banister, he slowly ascended the stairs. Each wooden step, each heartbeat brought him closer to another confrontation with Jenny. God needed to put barbed-wire across his mouth.
Taking a deep breath, he rapped on Jenny’s bedroom door, still uncertain of what he should say. The fire of anger had slowly dissipated, but he could not forget the woman wanted to take his daughter from him.
“Who is there?”
Jenny’s weak voice reminded him of her illness. He cringed at the thought. “I’d like to apologize for my outburst of temper.” Silence met him as he waited patiently before speaking. “Is it possible for us to talk without arguing?” At last the door opened. Her red swollen eyes heaped more coals on his guilt. What happened to his compassionate nature?
“I think enough has been said.” Jenny’s lips quivered.
