by Ann Shorey
Luellen gasped. “Does Mama know?” Her words were muffled against his shirt.
“I’m sure she suspects.”
“Would you please tell her for me? I’ve caused so much distress already—I can’t bear to upset her further.”
He stepped back and leaned against the examination table. “My dear girl, this isn’t something that’s going to be over tomorrow. She’ll be on your side. Remember, Lily was born after your father died. If anyone can understand, it’ll be your mother.”
His compassionate tone tore at her heart. She covered her face and sobbed. “I made such an awful mistake. I’m so sorry. You and Mama don’t deserve to suffer for my troubles.”
“Hush now.” He kissed the top of her head and offered her a handkerchief. “A new baby in the family isn’t a tragedy. I’ll be right here to look after you until your child is born.”
“I’m not staying home.” Luellen wiped tears from her cheeks. “School’s too important to me to—”
Papa held up a hand, palm out. “He or she will arrive sometime in May, perhaps before the term ends. You can’t tax yourself during those last months. You’ve been part of a doctor’s family for too many years not to know the risks you’d be taking.”
“Please, Papa.” She seized his hands. “I’m afraid if I leave now I’ll never go back.”
“Even if you complete this term, there’s still one more year. I assume you’ll stay home until your child is older, then finish.”
“No. The Model School instructor is a widow with a young child. If she earned a teaching certificate under those circumstances, so can I.”
A muscle twitched in Papa’s cheek. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he paced the length of the room, turning to face her. “Why don’t you wait on that decision until May? Perhaps you’ll feel differently after the baby’s born.”
If Papa were focused on next year . . . “So you won’t object if I return in February?”
“I didn’t say that. I worry about—” He paled and drew several deep breaths.
“Papa?”
He shook his head. “It’s nothing.” He sucked in another breath and released it in a heavy sigh. “You’ve already overcome a great deal to reach your goal. I won’t stand in your way now. But keep in mind you’re gambling with a human life.”
Preoccupied, Luellen walked along Monroe Street toward Wolcott’s Mercantile with her mother and Belle. She hadn’t considered her ambition as gambling with her baby’s life. The baby was more important. But school was important too. Why couldn’t she have both?
She hunched her shoulders against a gust of wind, drawing her cloak close to her throat. Belle squeezed her arm. “You’re awfully quiet this afternoon. Is something troubling you?”
Mama turned to face them, apparently listening for Luellen’s response.
“Not at all,” she lied. “I’m just wondering what colors I should choose for my new dresses.”
Belle inclined her head, studying Luellen’s face. “Let’s look for a deep green or gold to highlight your brown eyes.”
Once inside the mercantile, Mama led the way to the dry goods section. The odor of fresh paint mingled with the smell of fabric dyes and stiffeners. After a pleasant half hour contemplating all possible combinations, Luellen chose a golden brown wool challis for a dress and matching sacque, and a green worsted for her second dress.
Ben Wolcott joined them, carrying a pair of shears. “Miss Luellen. A pleasure to see you again. I trust all the books I sold you have been a help in Allenwood?”
“Indeed they have.” Luellen surveyed their family’s longtime friend. Though he was well over sixty, Mr. Wolcott moved with the bounce of a man twenty years younger. What was left of his hair was plastered to his scalp with sweet-smelling oil.
He brandished the scissors. “And now you’ve come for some cloth?”
She laid her hand on one of the two bolts of woolen material resting on the cutting table. “I need ten yards of the green.” She consulted her notes. “And fourteen yards of the challis.”
He cut and folded the fabric and carried it to the front counter. Mama and Belle followed him, adding their purchases to the stack. Luellen watched his efficient movements, happy memories of childhood visits to the mercantile filling her mind. The store had stood on the same spot ever since she could remember. More businesses had come to town, but Wolcott’s Mercantile was the only place Mama would trade.
He snapped off the end of a string binding their packages. “The boy will deliver this later this afternoon.”
Mama smiled at him. “Thank you, Ben.”
When they left the store, they decided to take advantage of the rare December sunshine. They strolled along the board sidewalk, passing the post office, a grocer, a millinery, and a drugstore. When they reached Hancock Street, Luellen noticed a Closed sign in the window of the Bryant County Bank.
Her throat constricted. “Mama?” She pointed at the darkened building. “When did that happen?”
“Just before you came home. There wasn’t time to write you. Hasn’t Papa talked to you about your finances?”
“No.” Her thoughts spun. “Why didn’t you tell me before I bought all that fabric? I could’ve gotten by with one dress.”
Mama skewered her with a glance. “No you couldn’t. Not—” She looked at Belle and cleared her throat. “Not with winter coming on.”
Luellen swallowed, grateful her mother had said nothing further.
12
Once the three women returned home, Mama turned to Luellen. “Do you want to put your feet up for a bit?”
So this is how it would be. Oversolicitation. “No, Mama. I’m not tired. I’ve been thinking about how good your ginger cake would taste.” She looked at Belle. “We need cooking practice, don’t we? Let’s make a cake.”
“Sounds delicious.”
Mama patted Luellen’s shoulder. “You hardly need practice after cooking at the hotel for so long. But ginger cake does sound good, and there’s time to get it in the oven before supper. You know where I keep my recipe book?”
“Of course.”
“Then I’m going upstairs and lie down for a while.”
Luellen gazed at her mother, surprised. It wasn’t like her to rest during the day.
By late afternoon, Luellen and Belle were in the kitchen measuring ginger and cinnamon into the molasses-laced cake batter. Luellen handed a bowl of beaten egg whites to Belle. “Would you please fold these in while I butter the pan?”
Belle dipped a finger into the batter and smacked her lips. “I could eat this plain. No need to bake it—let’s just pour it into bowls.”
Luellen giggled. “I don’t think that’s what Mama had in mind.”
The spoon clicked against the side of the bowl while Belle blended the batter through the fluffy egg whites. “Would your mother mind if I copied this recipe and took it home with me?”
“Not at all. She’d be pleased.” Luellen turned at the sound of a knock on the back door. “That must be our parcels from the mercantile.” A stab of guilt returned at the thought of the money she’d just spent. One thing about cut fabric—it couldn’t be replaced on the bolt. She sighed and swung open the door.
“Franklin! Lieutenant Calder! What are you doing here?”
Franklin stepped into the room and wrapped her in a hug. “What kind of a greeting is that? Last time I checked, this is where my parents live.” He gestured toward Lieutenant Calder. “Mama invited Ward to visit at any time.”
Luellen blushed at how ungracious she’d sounded. “You’re most welcome. Both of you.” She sent Franklin a mock frown. “Did Mama and Papa know you were coming? They didn’t say anything to me.”
“Christmas is next week. I wanted to make it a surprise.”
Belle stood at the worktable, holding the spoon and watching their exchange. Franklin glanced at her, then took a second look, a smile lighting his eyes. “I’m Franklin, Luellen’s brother.”
“Happy
to meet you. I’m Belle Brownlee.” Her cheeks pinked. “Luellen talks about you all the time.”
Luellen swiped a hand over her forehead. “Where are my manners?” She introduced Lieutenant Calder to Belle and turned to Franklin. “Why don’t you take your things upstairs while we get this cake in the oven? Tap on Mama’s door to let her know you’re here. She’ll be ecstatic.”
“Why is Mama in her room?”
“She said she was tired.”
“You got here just in time for the festivities on Friday,” Papa said to Franklin at supper. “Jack Bryant has made the second floor of the hotel available for a Christmas party for you young people. There’ll be games and dancing. I expect the ladies will bring Christmas treats, if it’s anything like last year.”
Mama put down her fork. “We were in the mercantile today, and Ben didn’t say a word about it. Usually he’s the first to know about parties and such.”
“Jack stopped by late this afternoon. His wife’s been ailing, and he wasn’t sure she’d want all the commotion. But she loves parties, and insists she’s well enough to oversee the plans.”
Luellen looked at her lap, focusing on the woven pattern in her napkin. She’d hoped there’d be no party this year. As a recently married, then divorced, woman, there was no place for her among the single adults in the community. Nor did she belong with the married girls.
“I put up several jars of mincemeat this fall,” Mama said. She turned to Luellen. “We could make pies. Nobody has your light touch with pastry—they’ll be the best desserts on the table.”
“I used to wait all year for my mother’s mincemeat pies,” Lieutenant Calder said. Sadness flashed over his face. “She only made them at Christmas.” His eyes met Luellen’s across the table. “I haven’t had a taste of mincemeat in many years. I’ll look forward to sampling yours, Miss McGarvie.”
Luellen flushed. “I hope you won’t be disappointed.” He’d given her an idea. She could spend the evening of the party overseeing the refreshment table. If Mrs. Bryant’s health was poor, she’d no doubt welcome the help.
“If your pie is as good as this ginger cake, I’m sure I won’t be,” Lieutenant Calder said, drawing her back to the conversation.
“Belle and I worked together on the cake. She deserves much of the credit.”
Franklin gazed across the table at Belle. “I knew there had to be a reason this cake was so tasty.”
Luellen fought an unexpected surge of jealousy. Franklin was her brother. Belle was her friend. She didn’t want to share. The intensity of her reaction surprised her.
Frowning at her task, Luellen picked threads from the waistband of her best dress. By opening the side seams, she could add gussets so the rose taffeta garment would be suitable to wear to the party on Friday. Since she had to attend, she wanted to look her best for the prying eyes she knew would scrutinize her.
Mama poked her head into the small sewing room. “This would be perfect with your dress.” She held up a silvery gray silk cape, trimmed with black ribbon. “It will conceal the gussets.”
Luellen stood and slipped the garment over her shoulders. Tied at the neckline, the shimmering folds fell below her waist. “It’s perfect, but this is your best cape. Are you sure?”
“I want you to feel equal to the other girls. If you look pretty, you’ll feel pretty.”
“Oh, Mama.” Luellen handed her the cape before her tears stained the silk. “I wish I didn’t have to go.”
“Belle’s your guest. You need to entertain her. Friday’s her last day with us—let’s make it special.”
“Franklin’s making it special enough for both of us, mooning over her the way he is.” Luellen brushed at her tears with the back of her hand. “Ever since he came home, neither one of them has much time for me.”
“You sound like one of the children you hope to teach.” Mama jammed her hands on her hips and gave Luellen a stern look. “ ‘Rejoice with them that do rejoice.’ You should be happy your friend likes your brother. What if they’d taken an instant dislike to each other? Think how awkward we’d all feel.”
Luellen bent her head to her stitches, picking at broken threads. “It feels awkward now. Franklin is so busy following Belle around that poor Lieutenant Calder is left to his own devices much of the time.”
“I don’t think he minds. He seems content to work on the reports he brought with him.” She patted Luellen’s shoulder. “This attitude isn’t like you.”
After Mama left, Luellen rested her hands in her lap and stared out at the cloudy sky. Skulking around the house feeling sorry for herself gained her nothing. As soon as Christmas was over, she’d work at the hotel until time to return to Allenwood. That way she could recover what she’d spent on fabric and have a start on next year’s savings.
Hung with swags of greenery, the ballroom at Bryant House looked like an illustration from Dickens’s A Christmas Carol. Men and women in bright clothing mingled throughout the capacious room. Luellen watched the chattering guests from her position behind the refreshment table. On a raised platform against the opposite wall, musicians tuned their instruments. Fiddles scraped, a harmonica screeched, and a fife player piped high notes before they swung into the first tune of the evening, “Camptown Races.”
Couples filled the floor for the lively polka. Uncle Matthew’s oldest sons, twins Jimmy and Johnny, joined in the dancing with their wives. Their younger brother, Harrison, danced with his current ladylove. Luellen smiled to herself. Her uncle had certainly mellowed since the Shakespeare fiasco that happened when she was a girl. Then, he wouldn’t allow his family to attend a play, much less a dance. Now here were her cousins, dipping and swaying to the music.
She ignored the stares and whispers of a group of young women nearby. She assumed everyone believed she’d come with Lieutenant Calder, even though she’d left him with Franklin and Belle to take her post receiving and arranging the desserts. She stood, listening to the bouncy tune and wishing the evening were over.
“Mrs. O’Connell?” A familiar-looking man who appeared to be in his midthirties, with a receding hairline, stood in front of her. His arms were folded across his stomach, fingers of one hand drumming against the opposite forearm.
“It’s Miss McGarvie, if you please.”
“Oh. Sorry. I heard—”
“Daniel Griffith, isn’t it?” Franklin appeared beside him, holding out his hand. “Haven’t seen you in a coon’s age. Where’ve you been?”
“Here and there. Took over my folks’ pottery business when they died, but no one around here wants that old brown crockery anymore. So I’m on the road peddling the stuff most of the time.” Daniel’s nervousness evaporated while he talked to Franklin. “Heard you was an Army scout.” His gaze took in Franklin’s blue trousers and dress coat. “You look pretty well turned out—’cept for them moccasins. Never did get over being with them Indians, did you?”
“I learned a few tricks that’ve come in handy.” He turned to the refreshment table. “Like never passing up food when it’s offered.” His hand closed over the edge of a plate containing a generous slice of mince pie. “How many desserts can I have?” he asked Luellen.
“One.” She grinned at him. “At a time.”
The band slowed the tempo from “Camptown Races” to a waltz. Several couples stopped by the table and selected desserts, taking cups of punch with them back to their chairs. Fewer dancers filled the floor.
During the lull, Daniel Griffith sought Luellen’s attention. “Would you like to dance with your old neighbor?” A blush flared across his face.
Surprised he would ask, Luellen said, “You’re very kind, but I prefer to watch.” She couldn’t imagine running the gauntlet of gossips if she were to take to the dance floor. Why would Daniel seek her out? He’d been almost grown before she ever started school. Surely he had a wife and children someplace. Uncomfortable, she turned away and pretended to be absorbed in watching the dancers.
Franklin and
Belle swirled past, deep in conversation. Luellen fought down jealousy. If it weren’t for Belle, her brother would be keeping her company at the table. She rearranged dessert plates, filling empty spaces with fresh cut slices of pie or cake.
“May I have this waltz?”
Irritated, Luellen glanced up, expecting to see Daniel repeating his request. Instead, Lieutenant Calder smiled at her and held out his arm.
She shook her head. “See all those busybodies watching me? They’re just waiting for something new to gossip about.”
He placed her hand on his arm. His wool coat felt warm under her fingers. “Keep your chin up and look them in the eye, remember?”
Conscious of people staring, Luellen allowed him to lead her to the edge of the dance floor. He clasped her right hand in his left and placed his right hand lightly against her back above her waist.
Smiling, she settled her left hand on his shoulder. “Might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb.” Together they slipped into the flow of the music.
Lieutenant Calder danced her near the gawking girls at the back of the ballroom. “Let’s give them a good look,” he said, a mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes.
She shook her head in mock disapproval. “I have to live here after you go back to Missouri, Lieutenant.”
“Please call me Ward. We’ve spent enough time in each other’s company to consider ourselves friends, don’t you think?”
“Ward it is.” She appreciated his no-nonsense personality. “Heaven knows, I could use a friend right now.”
“So could I.”
The following morning, Luellen sat in the guest bedroom watching while Belle tucked the last of her belongings into her traveling bag. “I so appreciate the invitation to spend these weeks with your family. All of you made me feel so welcome.”
“Especially Franklin?”
Hurt darkened Belle’s eyes. “You’re my dearest friend. I assumed you’d be pleased that your brother and I got on so well.”
