by DiAnn Mills
“Slow down.” Grant waved his hands in defense at the onslaught of questions. She reminded him of Rebecca when all of her little-girl thoughts and questions spilled out at once. But the sound of Jenny’s voice had a different effect on him—it flowed over his heart like a lazy river.
“I’m sorry.” The sparkle in her eyes could not disguise the excitement. “Please tell me everything, and I promise to listen quietly.” The two strolled along the side of the quiet street.
“How long can you wait?” Grant said. “Too bad I’m not a gambling man. We might make a little wager.”
“Heaven forbid, Dr. Andrews.” She laughed lightly. “How long must I sit in anticipation?”
“Ah, but I could take a bribe.”
“How shameful, but name your price.”
He’d like a repeat of their kiss on the Fourth of July, but they hadn’t discussed their relationship—if there was one. And he had no idea if she had feelings for him—or had simply felt sorry for him that evening. “Cooking lunch for Rebecca and me on Saturday, and then a long wagon ride. We might even go see the new baby.”
Jenny sighed deeply as though the task were too arduous. “I suppose I could manage a few hours away from my busy schedule, and you are including my favorite Miss Mischief. What about Mimi?”
“She has plans with her grandchildren. So do you agree?”
She glanced away, then back at him. Flirting, the ladies called that kind of behavior, and he loved every minute of it.
“I’ll manage, Doctor,” she said. “Now, may I hear everything about Bonnie and Ben’s baby girl?”
Grant leaned forward and whispered, “Do I detect the faint twinge of a whine?”
She attempted a somber face but failed as the corners of her mouth lifted. “I think so, but I’m very curious.”
“I know, but for you, I will refrain from any more teasing.” He winked before he began. “Miss Lydia Anne Kahler arrived this afternoon at three fifteen. She weighed five pounds and is a fine, healthy baby. She looks like her mother, except she’s bald, which leads me to believe she’ll have the same color of hair as her mother and grandmother. Bonnie is doing well, just tired.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “Let’s see—Zachary and Michael Paul held their new baby sister, and Ben is thoroughly smitten. Did I answer all of your questions?”
“Is your mother staying with her?”
“Yes, and I will take you for a visit on Saturday if the food is good.”
A strange look passed over her delicate features. “Mimi will have to give me a review. I do have an idea, though.”
“For us to eat?”
Jenny shook her finger as though reprimanding an impish schoolboy. “No, a gift for the baby. You’ll have to settle for fried chicken, green beans, and blueberry cobbler. Mimi has given me more cooking lessons.”
Have you learned what pinfeathers are? And the way to a man’s heart? Grant grinned. “Deal.”
*****
An unexpected downpour on Saturday crushed any expectations of a wagon ride. Grant heard the pitter-patter of rain on the roof in the early morning hours. By the time daylight broke over the horizon, heavy drops pelted against the windowpane of his bedroom. Midmorning, he checked for signs of sunlight and diminishing rain, but it continued to drench the earth.
Again Grant considered the purchase of a buggy so he and his passengers could stay dry. When he thought about the many times he’d been soaked while checking on patients, he realized the necessity of a fine carriage.
“There goes your afternoon,” Mimi said, her round face downcast. “And Jenny worked hard on the food yesterday.”
And he’d looked forward to spending the day with her and Rebecca. Grant peered at the rolling thunderclouds. “What about your plans to visit your grandchildren?”
“Oh, I can do that another day.” She shrugged. “Why don’t you three have a picnic on the back porch?”
He stepped through the kitchen and examined the roofed area. The wind hadn’t blown the rain inside.
“Good idea. I’ll go get Jenny when it lets up a bit, and I’ll not forget the umbrella.” He wrapped an arm around her waist. “And you can nap or whatever you want.”
“Mercy, Grant. That sounds real inviting.”
“Can I go, Papa?” a small voice said from behind him.
Grant swooped up Rebecca into his arms. “So you want to ride with me to fetch Aunt Jenny?”
The little girl nodded, her dark brown curls bouncing. She hugged his neck and planted a rosebud kiss on his cheek. “Pease, Papa. I not get wet.”
“We will see, sweetheart. You can go providing it stops raining. I don’t want my little girl sick.” The mere words reminded him of Ben’s illness, but he shook away the gloom.
“I not get sick. I don’t yike medicine.” She shook her head with two vigorous tosses.
Within the hour, the sun peeked through the clouds, and at least momentarily, the rain subsided to a few sprinkles. As promised, Grant took Rebecca to fetch Jenny before another downpour. Mimi decided to read in her room after asking Rebecca to make sure Papa and Aunt Jenny behaved.
Jenny finished their noon meal preparation with more ease than Grant expected. For a moment, he allowed his thoughts to stray. What a threesome they’d make . . . if Jenny agreed to be his wife.
The two spread a blue gingham tablecloth over the porch floor as the rain began again. She set the dishes and eating utensils for three while Grant retrieved the food from inside the kitchen. Soon fried chicken, roasted potatoes, buttered corn and beans, warm bread, and blueberry cobbler tempted the trio. Grant asked the blessing, making sure to ask God to bless the hands that had prepared their food.
“This is certainly not like the last picnic I attended.” Jenny watched Rebecca fight sleep until she could no longer sit on the hard porch and leaned her head into Jenny’s lap. She kissed the little girl’s cheek and brushed a wispy curl from her face.
“You mean the Fourth of July?” He buttered a slice of warm bread and recalled the kiss. “Tell me about it.”
Jenny blushed, and he laughed.
“It’s quieter today,” he said.
“You are truly incorrigible,” she whispered.
“Guilty. Would you like for me to carry Rebecca upstairs? I could help you clean up, and perhaps we could discuss Jessica’s journal.”
“I’d like that.” She glanced down at her hands. “I’d like to tell you something about my sister, and when you take me back to the boardinghouse today, I want to give you her journal to read.”
“Any particular reason why?”
“Some things about Jessica were rather peculiar.” She moistened her lips. “Would you mind taking Rebecca to bed first?”
A little confused, Grant picked up his sleeping daughter and carried her upstairs. When he returned, Jenny had not moved from the porch.
“I’m ready,” he said. “From the look on your face, this must be serious.”
Jenny turned to face him. “Before you read Jessica’s journal, I need to explain a few things about her. Jessica’s behavior was very strange. According to my parents, she had these tendencies from birth. She displayed either extremely happy or extremely dark moods, rarely even-tempered. I remember times when she refused to sleep for up to three days in a wild state of elation. Then she’d retreat to her room with such melancholy that I feared she might harm herself.”
As Grant listened to Jenny explain her sister’s oddities, he sensed a growing fear swell in his mind. He thought back over Rebecca’s behavior, and thankfully, she did not exhibit any of her mother’s strange mannerisms. If he truly examined his daughter’s personality, he saw that her temperament more resembled Jenny’s.
Grant had studied mental disorders in medical school and had kept himself informed on the mysteries of the mind. During his practice, he’d seen more than one case that involved the unexplainable. As he further pondered Jessica’s behavior, he remembered Ellen telling him about Jessica blockin
g out labor pains by counting flowers on the faded wallpaper in her room. At the time, he didn’t dwell on Ellen’s statement, but now he understood. She’d most likely seen Jessica’s bizarre behavior on more than one occasion. Poor Jessica. Her troubles went far deeper than rebellion against her parents or a lack of faith in God.
“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you the truth about my sister,” Jenny said. “But I wanted you to hear it from me, not read it in her journal.”
“I appreciate that. Praise God, Rebecca doesn’t show the same tendencies. I’m really blessed with my little girl . . . and with you.”
*****
Jenny awoke to the sound of the grandfather clock downstairs chiming three o’clock. She groaned at the early hour, especially since she’d not fallen asleep until nearly midnight. Even then, nightmares had plagued her—nightmares about Aubrey Turner looking for his money.
She had given Grant the journal last evening. She felt as strongly as ever that he needed to know everything about Jessica. Perhaps he could find the clues to locate the money. Although she wanted the money for Rebecca, Jenny would gladly give it to Turner and have him gone from her life and the lives of those she loved.
Perhaps I should leave town. Ben asked me to stay until the matter was settled, but the thought of these good people in danger because of me is wrong. Selfish. How long can I continue to keep them in harm’s way?
The idea of journeying back to Cleveland left her ill at ease. She loved teaching, but she loved Kahlerville more. She loved her new friends more. Jenny sighed. Back in Cleveland she’d have to find a place to live. A second letter from her parents had confirmed that she could no longer live with them. She’d have to face her future as it should be, not as she desired. With God’s help, she’d find a place to live in Cleveland and continue teaching.
Jenny closed her eyes and heard Rebecca’s sweet giggle and Grant’s deep voice. She saw Rebecca’s eyes in a sweet doll of nearly three and the sea-green gaze of her dear papa. Yes, she must leave them soon for fear he’d learn the truth about her feelings for him.
A bell pealed out through the night. Jenny startled. The bell continued to ring. Its clamor shouted the words she heard in her next breath.
Fire!
Jenny threw back her bed sheet and stumbled to the window.
“It’s the brothel,” a man shouted.
“At this hour, it’s full,” another man said. “Looks to me like God is bringing down judgment on Martha’s Place.”
“We still need to get those folks out of there,” said the first man.
Jenny shrank back from the window. Frank had threatened to burn Martha’s Place when the woman had accosted Ellen at the store. But surely he hadn’t actually done so.
Have I caused this, too?
*****
Grant’s arms ached from hauling water up and down the bucket brigade to save the building from burning to the ground. Men, women, and children worked side by side to destroy the fiery monster. Those within Martha’s Place had escaped, some wrapped in bedclothes to hide their nakedness. A couple of men slipped into the shadows, no doubt making fast tracks home before the whole town learned where they’d been.
No one seemed upset about the brothel’s demise other than making sure to douse the flames before any other buildings caught fire. No one expressed regret except the girls who worked there and Martha, who stood off to the side by herself with one babe in her arms and the other clutching her hand. Dressed in her evening finery, Martha didn’t offer a picture of motherhood, but Grant knew her heart.
With the building in smoldering ashes, Grant made his way to Martha. Lester had battled the blaze like the rest of them, men and women alike. Now the town’s banker stood with the others—no move toward the soiled doves who shed tear after tear or the woman who’d born him two sons—Lester’s only children.
“Martha, we need to find a place for you and the girls to stay,” he said.
She lifted her gaze to meet his. In the darkness he sensed her sadness. He was certain she’d heard enough of God bringing an end to the sin in their town. Why would any of these women search out Jesus after the way they were treated?
“Look around you, Grant. Which one of these citizens is going to step forward in Christian love?”
He glanced about and saw his mother and the reverend talking with the girls. His mother placed an arm around one of them. “There, Martha.” The four girls trailed after his mother and the reverend. He turned back to Martha. “You and the boys come home with me. Mimi and I have plenty of room.”
“Grant, some of the townsfolk already claim these boys are yours. Why ruin your reputation?”
He chuckled. “Have you ever known an Andrews to run from a little bit of gossip?”
“No, I guess not.”
He sensed a presence beside him. “Ellen, good to see you,” Grant said.
“Frank is watching the ashes to make sure it’s all out,” she said.
“That’s right nice of him considering he threatened to burn my establishment.” Martha’s voice echoed over the night air.
“You and I know he didn’t do this,” Ellen said. “He was with me.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to say anything differently,” Martha said.
Grant knew Martha’s temper. “Ladies, we’re all tired. Let’s go home and get some rest.”
“I wanted to see if Martha and the boys had a place to stay,” Ellen said. “Our home is small, but we’d be glad to make room.”
Bless you, Ellen.
Martha had a rare moment of silence. The younger of the boys whimpered, and she bounced him lightly in her arms. “Doc Grant here offered us to stay there.”
“I see. If you need anything, let me know.” Ellen bent to the little boy tugging at Martha’s skirts. “Your boys are beautiful. I’m so glad all of you are all right.”
She stood and touched Grant’s arm. “Jenny helped us carry water. She headed back to the boardinghouse a few minutes ago.” She nodded at him and walked back to where Frank stared into the flickering red embers.
“Frank and Ellen are good people,” Grant said. “He didn’t do this tonight.”
Martha shook her head. “Men do strange things when they love a woman. Sometimes it makes them act in madness. I’ve seen it all.” She sighed. “I don’t expect Ben to question or even arrest him. It’ll go down with folks as an act of God while a model citizen hides his matches.”
Grant found no purpose in stating the list of what could have caused the fire. She’d not hear it anyway. She grieved the wealth buried in the cinders. Desperation clung to her like the smoke buried in the folds of her clothes.
He grasped the hand of the older boy and glanced up at Martha. “You and these children don’t need to look at this one minute longer.”
*****
“I sure wish I hadn’t made the statement about Martha’s Place needing to be burned to the ground,” Frank said.
Ellen wrung out a rag and gently wiped the black soot from his forehead, cheeks, and neck. Her beloved Frank had worked hard this evening. His arms had been singed, and a few sparks had destroyed the front of his shirt. As he sat at the kitchen table, she tried to comfort him about the fire. “Honey, you were angry at the time. No one would ever suspect you.”
He glanced up. “Martha would. She’ll probably see Ben tonight.”
“I don’t think so. I saw Grant lead her and the boys toward his house. I offered our home to them, but she wasn’t interested.” Ellen sighed. “And I would have taken any of the girls, too.”
“You have more of a Christian heart than most of the folks in this town.” He laid the wet rag aside and wrapped his large hands around her waist, pulling her into his lap. “I am the luckiest man in the world.”
“No, I’m the luckiest woman in the world.”
“We have what few folks ever find,” he whispered. “I wish I was a poet so I could read to you what’s always on my heart.”
“You do
just fine, Frank. All I have to do is look into your eyes, and I see your love for me.” She paused and recalled the frightened stares of Martha’s girls tonight. “I hope the girls at Martha’s never go back to that kind of work. I’m going to try real hard to help them.”
“They’ll listen to you before they listen to anyone else.” He kissed her lightly. “And Martha, too. Makes me wonder what she and those little boys will do.”
“She’s a smart woman, Frank. She could open a fine, respectable business.”
“What about the father of her children?”
Ellen considered telling her husband what she suspected but thought better of it. Gossip didn’t please the Lord. “Maybe she doesn’t want his help.”
Chapter 29
“Afternoon, brother.” Morgan’s eyes sparked a teasing glint.
Boyhood days crept through Grant’s mind, memories and times he never wanted to forget.
“Not enough sick folks today, so you’re out looking for some?” Morgan said.
“Not exactly. My house has been corralled by three little people under the age of four. Mischief is in the air.”
“You haven’t been around mine for a while.” Morgan leaned back in his chair and rested his head in his hands. “I saw the remains of Martha’s Place when I rode into town this morning. Mama told me you took in Martha and her boys. How is she faring?”
“Angry. Bitter. I wish she’d see how much God wants to help her through this. But as long as folks turn up their noses at her, she isn’t interested.”
“I heard she accused Frank of burning the brothel to the ground.”
“She’s convinced of it.”
“Who knows with all the goings on there what really sparked the fire?” Morgan rubbed his jaw. “I’d like to think Martha might consider a different profession than rebuilding.”
“She’s a good mother to those boys. Maybe that will influence her.”
“Why do I think you came here today to talk about something other than the fire?”
Grant seated himself on a chair across from his brother’s desk. “I need help sorting out a few things.”
