by Nancy Loyan
“Others?”
“Yes, whooping cough, smallpox, and polio. I’ve even had a tetanus shot. When I visited Africa years ago, I had vaccines for typhoid, yellow fever, and hepatitis.”
“Interesting, though I don’t understand. Studies have shown that current vaccines, antitoxins, are ineffective. Only recently, has the government passed a Food and Drug Act to establish minimum standards for the standardization and purity of vaccines and drugs, which may prove many to be effective.”
“In the not-to-distant future, they will be proven effective and accepted as modern medical practice,” she said.
“I will have to read my new medical guide more carefully,” he said, and turning to her, “or ask you more questions.”
She laughed.
He stopped walking and turned to face her. He looked down at her, eyes brimming with sincerity. “Thank you for the care you provided Andrew. You’ve gone well beyond the call of duty. You put your life on the line for my son. I couldn’t live without him.”
“I love Andrew, too.”
“You do?” He placed his hands on her shoulders.
She nodded, looking up at him. “If I had borne him, I couldn’t love him more. I know that’s not what a governess should feel — ”
“Shh … you’re not the average governess.”
His eyes captured hers and he wanted to melt. He was speechless. Could he actually be feeling something for her? Something beyond being a concerned and grateful employer?
He took her arm and led her down the hall to the landing of the narrow curving stairwell that led up to the servant’s quarters. He gazed up at the stairs that led to her tiny attic room and looked at her.
“I imagine you’re weary. You’ve been putting your own needs aside for Andrew,” he said.
“Just doing what was best.”
“For all that you’ve done to protect me and my household, from earthquakes and fires, to illness, I fear I’ll never be able to adequately repay you. Good night, Miss Donahue.” He took her hand in his, lifted it up and bent to plant a tender kiss on her fleshy palm. He released her hand, cast a brooding gaze her way, turned, and walked away.
Chapter 21
Miss Constance LaDue swooshed into the house like a petite tornado. Her gaze darted about the foyer, noting the floor, the wall covering, and the furnishings. Waving her gloved hands, she announced, “I shall have my decorator come forthwith to advise.”
Miss LaDue and her lady’s maid arrived at 92 Sacramento Street for an extended visit. By the number of steamer trunks removed from an accompanied wagon, she appeared outfitted for an extended grand tour of Europe. Miss LaDue had been insistent upon thoroughly touring the home and planning for her future in it. Bridget, perceptive as she was, knew that the household was in trouble the moment she stepped into the foyer.
“Tsk, tsk,” Miss LaDue added, peeking into the parlor. “This room is an abomination. The furnishings are as common as those ordered from Sears. There is so much work to be done. I wish to go to my room.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Bridget said, pointing upstairs.
Constance LaDue pivoted to face the mahogany stairwell. Her driver struggled with her trunks in the foyer, contemplating the steep stairs. Her French lady’s maid sashayed up the stairs, ahead of her mistress, with a pitcher of water.
“I must get out of these wretched clothes,” Constance complained. “The dust from the journey is just unbearable. I detest motorcars. They are such disagreeable and filthy objects.”
Bridget choked, knowing that the “journey” wasn’t that long. With her duster, veiled hat, and gloves, dirt didn’t have a chance to settle on the girl. Bridget held her tongue, rolled her eyes, and led the “guest” upstairs to the guestroom. She silently prayed that the girl would not become a permanent resident of the household. She assured herself that miracles do happen.
• • •
The coiled wire cha-changed as it made its way down the oriental runner covered treads of the front staircase. Like an alien being, it made its descent just as planned by Andrew. He sat at the top of the stairs suppressing giggles, his pudgy hands covering his mouth.
A blood-curdling scream erupted in the foyer, amplified by the high ceiling, bouncing off the walls like the Nerf ball Faith had given Andrew the day before. Miss LaDue stood shrieking as the Slinky Faith had also given the boy made its way to the bottom of the steps. Her hands trembled as she pointed to the strange wire object that seemed to have a will of its own.
Faith was the first to arrive on the scene. Seeing that the child’s toy was the cause of concern, she looked up the steps to meet Andrew’s animated gaze. She shook her head and bent over to pick up the Slinky. She compressed the wire toy into its closed state and held the coiled cylinder in her hand.
“You, you touched it!” Constance screamed, stepping back from Faith in fear of her.
“It’s only a child’s toy.” Faith sighed and called up the stairs, “Andrew, come down here this instant.”
In sheepish hesitation, the lad came down the stairs. When he saw Miss LaDue, he began to laugh out loud.
Constance was not amused. Her pale complexion turned sunburn red. She wagged her forefinger at Andrew. “You are a wicked little boy!”
“He means no harm,” Faith assured. “Andrew’s just a little boy bent on fun and amusement.”
“At my expense.” Constance smoothed her skirt, regaining her composure and her attitude.
“Andrew, I think you owe Miss LaDue an apology,” Faith said, turning to face her ward.
“I’m sorry Miss LaDue,” Andrew said in a squeaky, mocking voice.
“Okay, here.” Faith handed him the Slinky. “I told you not to play with it around guests. Now, take it to your room at once.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Andrew grabbed the toy and scurried upstairs.
“I want to warn you,” Constance began when Andrew was out of sight. “Once the good doctor and I are wed, we will no longer be in need of your services.”
“That will be the doctor’s decision,” Faith said, staring down at the childlike woman.
The girl’s eyes blazed. “I shall make it his decision. You shall be paid a month’s wages, a most generous offer. In return, you shall have no further contact with Andrew, the doctor, or any member of this household.”
“Is the doctor in agreement of these terms?”
“He shall be. I’ll make certain of it.” Constance gathered her skirts, turned, and walked into the parlor without another word.
Bridget appeared from the dining room, wiping her hands in her starched apron. “My, my, what made her jump out of her skin?”
“Just a child’s toy.”
“And a child’s nanny?” Bridget’s eyes locked with hers.
• • •
Doctor Forrester didn’t arrive home from his medical rounds until evening. After cleaning up in his bedroom and changing into his dinner suit, he came down to the dining room. Upon his arrival, Faith was just getting Andrew settled in his seat. A pressed linen cloth in ivory covered the table set with a china dinner service and sterling set. Crystal glasses glittered in the dim gaslight. Ivory roses with a bouquet of baby’s breath in a cut crystal vase created an elegant centerpiece. Faith wanted to barf. All of it was set to impress the pampered Miss LaDue. She looked up to meet the doctor’s bewildered gaze. She realized that she must have been smirking. Faith couldn’t wait to leave. Bridget had assured her that she would listen discreetly to the dinner conversation. They knew that the girl would exaggerate her arrival and the Slinky incident to the good doctor.
Just as Faith was prepared to make a hasty retreat, Constance LaDue breezed into the dining room. Her ivory gown matched the tablecloth and her hair was adorned with a spray of roses and baby’s breath. Faith had to hand it to the girl, she had an efficient maid who previewed the dining room and dressed her accordingly.
Ignoring Faith, Constance batted her lashes at the doctor, turning just enough to sho
w off the cut of her gown. The doctor stood to pull out her chair. With a broad smile, Constance eased herself down into her seat.
Suddenly, Constance leapt out of her chair, shrieking. She jumped around as if fire ants attacked her. The doctor rushed to her side. Looking at her seat, he bent over to retrieve a neon blue Nerf ball.
Andrew laughed so hard his face was beet red, his eyes gushing with tears of victory.
Doctor Forrester, trying to appear concerned and attentive to Constance, suppressed a grin. He cast a glance from Andrew’s amused smile to Faith’s awed surprise.
“The boy must be taught proper behavior. He is run wild. He is more an animal than a child!” Constance ranted and raved, flailing her arms.
“His name is Andrew and he’s my son,” the doctor said, squeezing the Nerf ball.
“Doctor, that woman is evil,” Constance accused, pointing a gloved finger at Faith. “She is corrupting the boy!”
Doctor Forrester turned from Constance to his son. “No toys at the dinner table.”
“Yes, sir,” Andrew replied, regaining his composure.
“Shall we have dinner?” the doctor asked.
He walked over toward Constance and pulled out her chair. She inspected it thoroughly before being seated.
As Faith moved to exit the dining room, the doctor called, “Miss Donahue.”
Faith turned just in time to catch the Nerf ball he tossed her way. She caught the ball and the doctor’s eye. He winked.
• • •
Faith made a point to avoid Constance LaDue as much as possible during the girl’s visit. This was a difficult task because the girl seemed to be everywhere. Constance had commissioned her mother’s favorite interior decorator to assist with her plans for the Forrester home. The man, as flamboyant and pompous as a peacock, paraded around the house after his client. He was given a room-by-room tour, noting the changes Miss LaDue desired. She seemed determined to erase every memory of Doctor Forrester’s late wife and everything he had held dear.
“I prefer gold flocked wall covering in the parlor. The molding must be repainted and gilded. I want the floors buffed. The chandelier must be Moorish-style. I insist that the mantel be removed and replaced,” Constance informed her decorator who listened attentively and nodded in agreement with her every suggestion.
Faith was settling Andrew in for his afternoon nap when Constance and her stuffy decorator, in his cut velvet frock coat, barged into the boy’s room. The doctor followed behind like a forlorn puppy.
“Master Andrew is being readied for his nap,” Faith scolded, annoyed that the girl would interrupt without any consideration. “He should not be disturbed.”
“Perhaps we should return later,” the doctor said.
“I am to be his mother soon. I am the one who is to determine whether Andrew is being disturbed or not.” Constance said, staring at Faith.
Constance scanned the painted walls of the boy’s bedroom, ignoring Andrew completely. “This room would do nicely as a baby’s nursery. It adjoins a room that would be suitable for a nursemaid.”
The decorator nodded in agreement.
“Nursemaid?” the doctor asked, startled.
“Why, of course. You wouldn’t expect me to nurse and fuss with a baby. It is my duty to give birth to a baby, not to raise one. That is what hired help is for,” Constance explained in an animated and determined fashion, her face a block of unyielding stone.
The doctor looked like an agitated bear prepared to pounce and growl. His hands were clasped behind his back, his face wrinkled in a scowl.
“Where would I sleep?” Andrew asked, jumping up from his bed. “This is my room!”
“Of course it is, son,” the doctor assured.
“Only until the boy is sent off to boarding school,” Constance added. “He is almost that age.”
“Boarding school?” the doctor asked, biting his lip, to hold back words better left unsaid at the moment.
“Why, of course.” Miss LaDue batted her lashes and cast a sweet curved smile in his direction. “You do prefer the boy to become a gentleman, don’t you? He can’t remain a sissy hiding behind his governess.”
The doctor’s face turned red, his eyes burning embers. Faith half expected smoke to rise from the top of his head.
“Miss LaDue, we need to talk … alone,” the doctor said. He took her by the arm and moved her out of the room.
Miss LaDue’s protesting voice squealed as the doctor led her down the hall and down the staircase.
The decorator cleared his throat. “I don’t believe my services will be required at this moment. Perhaps you can inform Miss LaDue that I’ve gone to meet with another client and shall keep in correspondence.”
“Of course,” Faith said. If it were up to her, his services would never be required.
“Good day,” the decorator bid as he walked from the room.
“Miss LaDue certainly overstepped her bounds this time,” Faith commented.
“I hate her!” Andrew said. “I wish she’d go away!”
“You know, Andrew, that wish might just come true.” Faith smiled, wondering what the doctor was telling the girl.
Chapter 22
Faith awakened to the sound of slamming doors, footsteps, the clatter of dragged luggage, and fussing voices. The noise cleared her head and the purring motor of a car outside her window prompted her out of bed. Without bothering to grab her robe, she scurried to her window, drawing back the curtains to observe the scene below.
Constance LaDue stood on the front walk surrounded by her steamer trunks. Attired in a duster, gloves, and veiled hat, she was barking orders to the hired driver. Her maid stood nearby waving her arms in a frenzy, mumbling in French. The driver leaned against the shiny motorcar mopping his brow, ignoring the women and their tantrums. His vehicle seemed inadequate to accommodate the women and the trunks. Bridget was nowhere in sight and the doctor was conspicuously absent.
Faith smiled. Her destiny might be realized after all.
She took extra care in her toilet, fixing her hair in a flattering pompadour. The tortoiseshell comb added color to her light brown hair. Going back to natural brunette after half a lifetime as a bottle blond had taken getting used to but maintenance was so simple. Not having to apply cosmetics was another timesaver. She was just grateful for having a decent complexion.
She dressed in the new outfit she had ordered from the Sears catalog. The embroidered white lawn shirtwaist and flounced black broadcloth and silk skirt accented her small waistline and feminine curves. After adding her jewelry, she checked herself in the washstand mirror. The effect was understated elegance. Everything in 1906 was so formal compared to the casual dressed-down new millennium. Faith felt like a little girl playing dress-up.
Andrew was already awake when she entered his room. After washing his face and hands, she helped him into his two-piece worsted suit. The brown breeches and coat matched his dark eyes. For the first time, he didn’t complain about having to get dressed. He was exceptionally quiet and kept grinning from ear to ear.
“Now, tell me what’s going on?” Faith asked. “This is so unlike you.”
“I chased her away,” Andrew said, waving his hand in victory.
“Who?” Faith didn’t have to ask but did anyway.
“Miss La Doo Doo. I hate her.”
“Andrew, as I said before, that isn’t a nice thing to say.”
“I’m glad she’s gone and I hope it’s for good.
Faith grinned. She couldn’t have said it better.
She escorted her charge downstairs for breakfast. As she descended the stairs and reached the foyer, she could see the doctor seated at the dining room table alone with a cup of tea. For a moment, she just looked at him. Even when seated, his height and posture gave him an air of authority. His broad shoulders were clothed in the navy blue and green broken-checked pattern of his suit. A bowtie was knotted at his neck. His wavy hair was slicked back. His dark eyes looked ahead i
n some distant deep thought. She closed her eyes, thinking that this was how mornings were destined to be. She would be greeting her husband at breakfast. What would he be thinking? Would his thoughts be on the previous night? Would he be content with her? Would she be content with him? Were they going to fall in love and stay in love?
She opened her eyes to have Andrew gazing up at her.
“Go join your father, Andrew,” she whispered, nudging the boy with her hand.
“Is that Miss Donahue?” the doctor called, turning to face the foyer.
“Yes it is, Papa,” Andrew replied, scampering into the dining room and into his father’s outstretched arms.
The doctor pulled the boy on to his lap and wrapped his arms around him.
“Miss Donahue, please come in,” the Doctor invited.
Faith sashayed into the dining room. The table was set simply with a linen tablecloth and everyday china. The setting was for three.
“Sir?” Faith asked, nerves fluttering, knowing that Doctor Ian Forrester was destined to be her new husband.
“Won’t you join us for breakfast?” the doctor asked. After planting a kiss atop Andrew’s head, he set his son on the floor.
Andrew scurried to his chair and Faith helped him up into his seat.
“Are you sure?” Faith asked.
“Will you please sit?” the doctor ordered, pointing to a chair next to his, across from Andrew.
“I always dine in the kitchen with the other hired help.” She knew that the doctor liked to tend to his son alone during meals, a sort of bonding ritual between father and son.
The doctor set down his tea and rose. He stepped over and pulled out the cane seat chair for her. “Sit.”
Faith eased herself into the chair. She unfolded her napkin and fanned it on her lap. After pushing her chair in, the doctor took his seat. Bridget waddled into the room with a basket of steaming biscuits, setting them down on the table. She caught Faith’s eye and winked, as if she could read Faith’s mind. Andrew sat still and silent, a broad smile beaming from his face. When he was well behaved he appeared rather angelic.
