by DiAnn Mills
Grant moved toward a second bedroom where Ellen had slept and found it in a more deplorable condition than the other: torn bed linens, slashed pillows, and broken furniture littered the once neat abode. Even the curtains had been yanked to the floor and the window cracked. Grant caught a glimpse of the widow’s frail body in a hideous twisted form near the foot of the bed.
He bent to examine her but found no fluttering of a heartbeat or movements of breathing, only the pale gray pallor of death. Gently closing her eyes, he searched the body for signs of a struggle or violence. Finding no marks upon her, he surmised the widow died of a heart attack when someone broke into her home.
A surge of anger burst through his veins at the thought of someone frightening her into heart failure. Catching his breath in the midst of indignation, he knew he must fetch Ben and inform the undertaker. The latter might be difficult to locate on a Saturday, for he also owned the livery and traveled about as a blacksmith. Covering the body with a crumpled bed sheet, he mentally listed what he needed to do the remainder of the afternoon.
Poor Ellen. Mrs. Lewis dies of a heart attack, and her house is ransacked the day after the wedding. To the best of his knowledge, the widow didn’t have a single possession worth stealing. Her treasures were memories and friends. Once when he called on her last winter, she had talked the afternoon away reminiscing of days gone by: children grown with families of their own and her heartfelt prayers for all of them. She had shared with him a precious box of treasures: an inexpensive brooch given to her by her late husband, a polished rock sent from back East by her great-grandson, a faded photograph of her mother, and pieces of yellowed lace from her wedding gown. Stepping back into Mrs. Lewis’s bedroom, he saw that the small, carved wood box had not been touched.
Walking back into the room where the widow’s body lay, he peered around, wondering why it had been damaged more than the rest.
Ellen had slept in that room, he reminded himself. The bedclothes looked like torn rags around the body. Why would anyone want to destroy the widow’s home? What was the intruder looking for? A twisted thought grabbed hold of him. Could the intruder have been someone Ellen had known before she left the brothel?
Shaking his head, he hurried from the house to get help. With the intense heat, the odor from the lifeless body would rise profusely in a few short hours. He stopped long enough to write a note for any passersby before heading into town.
The sun beat down hard, and almost immediately, perspiration dripped onto his face, but this time Grant was too deeply engrossed in thought to be bothered by the heat. His emotions ranged from fury to grief. Why would anyone want to do this to a sweet old lady who had nothing but a gentle spirit? He’d seen how Mrs. Lewis and Ellen scraped pennies to sustain day-to-day living.
He dreaded telling Ellen. She’d be devastated and most likely blame herself for the widow’s death. Grant had never considered himself vengeful, but this death provoked his normally controlled temperament. For certain, Grant didn’t need to learn the name of the guilty person. This wasn’t an accident.
Chapter 16
Grant stopped in front of the small, newly framed home that Frank had built for his bride. Glancing at the front door, not yet painted, he decided he’d rather do anything than tell them about Mrs. Lewis. Deaths were a part of his profession, but it didn’t make the responsibility of telling friends about the passing away of a loved one any easier. He shook his head. Not quite one day into married life, Frank and Ellen were about to receive tragic news.
Stepping to the ground, he secured the wagon and listened for Frank’s dog. Nothing. Good. Perhaps the infamous General Lee still resided with the elder Kahlers. Grant wasn’t in any mood to confront the bearlike dog who had a reputation for not liking folks. Opening the gate, still too new to squeak—just like their marriage—he breathed a prayer for the two inside.
Frank answered the knock, a look of surprise clearly etched across his tanned face. “Afternoon, Grant. Come on in. What can I do for you?”
Grant attempted a half smile and sensed he’d failed. “Can I talk to you and Ellen?”
“Why, yes.” Frank eyed him curiously. “Honey, Grant’s here to see us.” Glancing back, he frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Mrs. Lewis,” he said quietly. “Ellen’s going to need you.”
The young bride appeared breathless and blushing. “Afternoon, Grant.” She smoothed back her hair. Suddenly, Ellen’s flush vanished. “What is it?”
“I sure don’t like bothering you two today. Can we sit down for a few minutes?”
She led the way into the small parlor. Frank wrapped his arm around his wife’s waist and urged her to sit beside him on the sofa.
“Tell me what’s happened.” She wet her lips.
Grant took a deep breath. He wanted the best for these two, and now they faced this. “I have some bad news, Ellen. Mrs. Lewis went home to be with the Lord. Most likely her heart failed.”
In an instant, all the color washed from her face. Shock and grief moved her to uncontrollable weeping. She buried her head against her husband’s chest, and when she could not be comforted, Frank lifted her up into his mammoth arms and carried her to bed. Grant followed.
“I don’t normally do this for my patients,” he said as Frank tried to console his wife. “But I want to give her a sedative. It’ll calm her down and let her sleep. With all the excitement the last few days, she’s probably exhausted. Tomorrow she can deal with her grief.”
Frank’s eyes filled with concern. “I agree. And I’ll not leave her. I know my Ellen. She’ll be blaming herself for not insisting Mrs. Lewis live with us.”
Grant chose not to share the details surrounding the old woman’s demise in Ellen’s presence. She’d learn soon enough. “I’ll stop by in the morning after church. Fetch me if you need to.” Bone-tired and more depressed than he’d been in a long time, he shook his head to dispel the frustration. To him, the widow’s death bordered on murder. It wouldn’t take long for the news to spread.
Frank trailed behind him to the door.
“There’s more,” Grant said. “Someone destroyed the inside of the house. Furniture is overturned. Pillows and mattresses are slit. It’s a mess. There isn’t a mark on Mrs. Lewis, which led me to believe her death resulted from her failing heart.”
Frank’s face hardened. “Who would take advantage of an old lady like that?”
“I have no idea, but it makes me good and mad.” Grant pointed toward the bedroom. “Ellen needs you now. Do you want to tell her about the condition of the house, or do you want me to come by later?”
“I’ll tell her.”
“I’m on my way to see Ben and the undertaker. And I’ll stop by the parsonage, too.”
Grant wearily put one foot in front of the other and walked toward town. He stopped at the undertaker first, then on to see Ben.
“Why, Mrs. Lewis looked fit as a fiddle at the wedding last night,” Ben said after Grant told him the news.
“I think you should take a look at her house. Somebody ransacked it. Most likely scared her to death.”
“That makes me downright mad.” He shook his head. “I’m heading there now.”
“Thanks. I’m heading to the parsonage before going home.”
Grant spent several minutes with his mother and the reverend. The older couple made plans to see Ellen and Frank for the funeral arrangements. Strange how the evening before had been such a celebration.
He walked on home to tell Mimi about Mrs. Lewis. She took the news badly, and it grew dark by the time he tucked Rebecca into bed and made Mimi comfortable. Too tired to hitch up the wagon, he walked the distance to the boardinghouse. Once there, Grant waited in the parlor while Harold informed Jenny of his visit. She didn’t need to hear about the incident from town gossip. As he sat, he remembered the two of them discussing how the widow perked up with the celebration. Was that only the night before?
She soon appeared in the doorway, and
he stood until she seated herself across from him. To Grant, she looked lovely—rested, almost peaceful. He attempted to capture the excitement of the previous evening rather than immediately inform her about Mrs. Lewis, but it proved impossible. She clearly saw through to his preoccupation.
“What’s wrong?” she said.
Grant reached for her hand and managed a faint smile. “I guess I don’t do a very good job of hiding things.”
“Is Rebecca all right? Is Miss Mimi ill?”
“They’re both fine. Well, truthfully, Mimi has been better. I have some unpleasant news to tell you, a matter I’d prefer you hear from me.” Strange how the mere touch of her hand eased the misfortunes of the day. “There’s been a death.”
Jenny’s face paled. “Who?”
“Mrs. Lewis. Her heart failed her.”
Clearly stunned, she shivered as though the cold chill of death had affected her physically. “But Mrs. Lewis looked wonderful at the wedding. And she seemed to really enjoy herself.”
“I know, and I don’t like being the one to tell you, but disturbing circumstances surround her passing.”
Her gaze lifted questioningly. “I was the one who found her,” he said. “Looks like someone broke into her house and frightened her into what resulted.”
Jenny gasped. “How dreadful. Goodness, what about Ellen? She must be inconsolable with the news.”
“I believe she’ll be all right. I gave her a sedative, but she only knows about the passing—nothing else. Frank plans to tell her later.”
“Should I go to her?”
The Jenny Martin he’d met a few weeks ago would not have been so quick to come to Ellen’s aid. Perhaps Mimi’s observation was correct. “That’s very thoughtful, Jenny, but she’ll rest through the night. Perhaps tomorrow if you’re still inclined to visit.”
“Yes, I’ll leave directly after church. I’ll need to give my regrets to the reverend and your mother. I told them I’d be there for dinner.”
“And I need to do the same. You’re more than welcome to join me.”
She smiled. “Thank you. I don’t want to be an imposition.”
“Quite the contrary. Another woman may be exactly what Ellen needs—so she can cry and talk about her memories of Mrs. Lewis.”
“So you believe simply listening is best?”
“Exactly, the best medicine.”
Jenny stared at his hand covering hers, as though noticing it for the first time. She slowly drew it back. “How is Miss Mimi handling this?”
“She and Mrs. Lewis were good friends. Had been for years.” He hesitated. “I despise this whole thing, Jenny. Whoever caused Mrs. Lewis’s heart attack should be horsewhipped.”
“Do you have any idea who’s responsible?”
He shook his head. “Not at all. After I told Ben, he planned to search the house. Maybe he learned something then. Only Ellen could testify to anything missing.”
Jenny glanced into the hallway that separated the parlor from the dining room. He followed her gaze and for the first time noted Aubrey Turner observing them. The man sauntered past and tipped his hat at Jenny. She pulled her drawstring bag into her lap and stiffened, then returned her attention to Grant.
“Why don’t you go on home,” she said. “You really need to be with Miss Mimi and get some rest.”
Her sweet words eased the sadness swelling inside him. “I suppose you’re right, and it’s growing late. Thanks for taking time from your evening to see me.”
“Oh, and I appreciate your being sensitive to my feelings. I’m so glad you were the one to tell me about Mrs. Lewis. It’s hard for me to believe she’s gone when just last night we laughed together about something Rebecca said.”
They stood together and moved into the hallway and entrance of the boardinghouse. “Will you be able to escort me to church, or should I make other arrangements?”
The closeness of her stirred his senses. If he wasn’t careful, he’d look like a fool, but he couldn’t help himself. “I’ll gladly come by for you.”
Without thinking, he bent and kissed the petite young woman on the forehead. He saw astonishment spread quickly across her face along with a slow rise of red from her neck to her cheeks. Immediately, he regretted his impulsive action. A weighted silence reigned over them. What had he been thinking?
“I’m sorry,” he said, with one hand on the doorknob. “I—I’ll see you in the morning.”
She didn’t utter a word, and he could not bring himself to stare into her face.
Grant mumbled good night before closing the door behind him. Idiot pounded into his brain. He reminded himself of a love-struck schoolboy who stammered and fell all over himself. In his next breath, he defended his impromptu act. A casual kiss on the forehead meant nothing in 1895. He’d affectionately kissed the cheek of Bonnie, Casey, Mimi, and his mother, but they were family. I shouldn’t have taken such liberties without Jenny’s permission. It’s a wonder she didn’t slap me. He reached the street, paused momentarily, and retraced his steps.
Inside the boardinghouse, he found Jenny standing exactly where he’d left her. He instantly thought better of his decision to offer another apology. Why did foolishness seem to walk with him when it came to her?
“Grant?” Her face resembled a ripe tomato. “Did you forget something?”
“I neglected to tell you about another matter,” he quickly said. “I’ll most likely be a few minutes early in the morning so I can visit with my mother before church.”
“I’ll be ready,” she said, still evading his gaze.
“Again, good night.” He wasted no time in leaving the boardinghouse.
As he headed down the street, he thought about the following morning. He wished he had a more stylish wagon. His worn-out buckboard looked unsightly and was assuredly rough on the ladies. He could well afford a fashionable buggy. Mimi had complained about it for a long time, but he’d ignored her. At the time, spending money on a new buggy wasn’t important. Now it bothered him. Expelling a labored breath, he hurried his pace toward home.
His thoughts circled back to Mrs. Lewis. He considered the vagrants of the town who might be under suspicion, but none came to mind. A few older boys tended to be reckless and wild in their ways—after all, he’d been one—but none of the town’s youth had ever committed a serious crime. Grant had a gut feeling Kahlerville was dealing with more than a break-in, and he didn’t like any of it.
Long after the others in his household slept, Grant remained on the front porch beneath a starlit night. Mimi grieved for her friend, and he knew she wouldn’t sleep well even though he’d brewed her a cup of chamomile tea. Repeatedly, his troubled mind contemplated the events of the day. He prayed for trust and guidance until he felt a loving hand lead him to a decision, and his resolution required the confidence of a man in whom he could trust.
*****
Jenny hesitated in the entranceway of the boardinghouse. Had Grant actually kissed her? She swallowed hard and touched her hand to her chest. Indeed, he had. A light kiss on the forehead meant fondness—like a man felt for an aunt or his mother. He most likely observed that type of behavior often. Should she feel honored or offended? One moment the memory of the soft look in his green eyes tingled through her, and in the next instant the kiss infuriated her. The idea he considered her on the level of an old maid kindled a fire in her blood. And to think he’d apologized for the kiss. She should have reminded him about the propriety of a gentleman.
“Miss Jenny, are you all right?”
The insufferable Aubrey Turner. She pasted on a smile and turned to face him. “I’m fine, Aubrey. And yourself?”
He nodded. “I wondered if the doctor had upset you and if I needed to defend your honor.”
She caught her breath. Defend my honor? What was he implying? “Not at all. I’m sorry I gave you that impression.”
“You looked lovely at the wedding last evening.”
“Thank you. Ellen was a beautiful bride.”
“Dare a woman with her past be a beautiful bride?”
The anger she’d held a few moments before with Grant she now directed at the man before her. “Excuse me?”
He offered a thin-lipped smile. “I’m sure you understand.”
“I don’t think her past is any of your concern.”
“I just wonder how your parents would feel about the company you’re keeping, since they believe you’re in Boston.”
An alarm sounded in her mind. How did he know this? “My parents know exactly where I am. And that too is none of your concern.”
“I distinctly heard you at the train station tell them of your plans to visit friends in Boston.”
He observed me even there? Fear seized her like a high fever. She whirled around and made her way to the stairway. What about this horrible man attracted Jessica? Praise God, Rebecca did not belong to him. She inwardly gasped. When had she begun to consider the existence of a deity?
The evening had been trying: Mrs. Lewis’s passing, Grant’s kiss, and now learning another detail about Aubrey Turner’s following her in Cleveland. Perhaps it would all look better in the morning. The light of day always made the things of darkness fade. Odd, she hadn’t thought of that expression in years. Grandma Martin used to say it.
Jenny raised the window in her room and crawled into bed. Summer Texas days and nights were merciless. At least a tree grew outside her window, and at night a breeze often cooled the stifling heat. In the morning a few wasps always buzzed about, but she’d rather chase them down than be bathed in perspiration.
Her mind raced with thoughts of the day. Too many unanswered questions. Grant puzzled her. She repeatedly denied her attraction to him, and then he gave her a chaste kiss. What had entered his mind to do such a thing? Weary and confused, she soon gave way to sleep.
