Jamie rapped on the Gracins’ door at seven a.m. the next morning. He knew they were up for the curtains were open, and he could see chimney smoke from the lit cooking stove.
“Good morning, Jamie,” his pastor said, in the same cordial manner he greeted all of his parishioners. “What can I do for you?”
“I promised to share some of the rabbit with Tariana. She wanted to cook Frances her favorite meal, seeing how the bride’s time at home was coming to an end.”
“Tariana wants to cook for her sister…Frances? Do I hear you right, boy?”
“Yes, sir. She is powerful sorry for her intrusion in the couple’s courting and wants more than anything for Frances to have fond memories when she leaves her childhood home in August.”
“Well, that’s right thoughtful of her,” Reverend Gracin said. “And you, also, for providing the meat. I’ll be sure to tell her you dropped by when she comes down. Meanwhile,” he shook the bag of meat, “I’d better get this to the missus in the kitchen, so she knows her daughter is cooking supper tonight.” Almost as an afterthought he called to Jamie, who had reached the bottom step by then. “Young man, why don’t you come and eat with us? It seems only proper. I’ll invite Michael as well and we’ll have a party.”
He did not sound like a man who had sent his daughter to her room for suggesting an act as brazen as going hunting with the boy next door. “Sounds wonderful, sir, but maybe you should check with Tariana, in case she wanted the special meal as a celebration for just the six of you.”
“Very astute. You’re a quick thinker, lad. I sure do not want to spoil any headway the Good Lord is making between Tariana and Frances. Come to think of it, she was not herself last evening…quiet and moody.” He chortled. “Who can figure out women? Good luck when you find yours.”
The door closed firmly, and Jamie stood there staring. He’d found his woman, and she didn’t want him. Her no-show the night before might indicate that even their life-long friendship was in jeopardy, and that scared him. For once, he could empathize with Tariana’s plight, when she could not have Michael but desperately wanted him. He desperately wanted Tariana to love him but never at the price of losing a friend. He braced himself for the inevitable heartbreak.
Tariana tried to dab some powder on the black rings under her eyes. She’d spent most of the night crying but had found a semblance of peace in prayer in the early hours. Life behind the Abbey’s doors sounded better all the time. She could never compete with the gorgeous Angelica Scinch. Everyone in town was buzzing about the cousin from Texas and Jamie, what a darling couple they made, and how her family’s money would lighten the burden for Jamie if they wed.
If they wed!
How had it gotten to that point already?
The daughter of the local preacher had no riches to offer. Tariana squared her shoulders and shook off the despair. Perhaps she should concentrate her efforts on living a life alone, settling for the life of a spinster, before reluctantly surrendering to hide behind the monastery walls.
Outside of her window, the crucifix rose high in the air on the building’s upper plateau. At least the roar of the falls would keep her company on lonely nights without a man and family.
Did that sound like the reasoning of a faith-filled woman, wanting to serve God sacrificially for the rest of her life? No. She chuckled at her idiocy. She wasn’t even Roman Catholic. Her Baptist father would be appalled to know his daughter entertained such ridiculous thoughts simply to escape having to the search for a decent husband.
It was time to put away such childish reasoning. She dug in her heels and decided to go to town later to see if any shops were willing to take on an apprentice. There’d be no harm in learning a skill, regardless of what her future held.
She avoided the diner in town, not wanting to cook or serve the public in that capacity. Dierdre’s Beauty Shop appealed to her sense of vanity, so she rejected it on that basis. Jon’s Laundry service and Bessie’s Bakery were immediate no’s. Striker’s Mercantile provided a respectable possibility, but when she spotted The New Northwest, her heart skipped a beat. If anything, diction and good literature had been a major part of her schooling. She’d written in a diary her entire life and enjoyed putting fancy words on paper.
There was another daily newspaper close by, for the industry was spreading like wildfire – there were a whopping thirteen in Oregon alone. Journalism would make for a good future, should Tariana choose to remain single. Between the two options, she was partial to get alongside the new sister project, openly supported and inspired by the famous Abigail Duniway. Tariana recalled the debates when, in 1871, the bold woman had stood firm against her conservative-minded brother who ran The Oregonian. She had retaliated by starting up The New Northwest in Portland, using her platform to speak for women’s rights. It was her belief that women should have the right to vote, an idea tolerated by few men and secretly admired by timid ladies. Tariana had no solid convictions concerning the issue – her upbringing would shun the idea – but she also knew the Good Lord had provided her with intelligence and maybe even a few golden nuggets to share with the world.
The owner of this sister-business, The New Northwest, was independent, but wise and not so outspoken as her mentor. It appeared the owner knew how to get her message across without facing severe backlash from her peers. She was a respected member of the community, for the most part. Hopefully, Father would support Tariana’s involvement in such a controversial and often dangerous occupation. Not everyone enjoyed the truth being spilled across the pages for public viewing. For a moment, she debated playing it safe and seeking employment at another newspaper, perhaps the one that included The Lovelorn column, but the pull to be a part of something bigger than herself was strong.
Tariana walked inside the open door and breathed in the strong smell of ink and paper. A woman stood with her back to the entrance, busying herself at the press. Her frame was strong, much like the character she portrayed to the townsfolk, and Tariana recalled admiring the new entrepreneur when she’d arrived in town.
“Good morning, Miss Freedman,” Tariana said.
The woman spun around and offered her a welcoming smile. “Good day. What can I do for you?”
“I’ve noticed that your paper is gaining popularity with the community. It’s a big responsibility for a single person, and I wondered if you could use some help.”
The spinster grinned. “I know you – you’re the preacher’s daughter, right?”
“Yes. Miss Tariana Gracin, almost eighteen years old with a good mind and eager to make folks aware of important news items as they happen. I am also drilled in correct English classes and can assist with proof reading. I have noticed a few spelling errors in past editions,” she added, hoping not to offend.
“Ah, yes. That is not one of my gifts, I’m afraid.” She wiped her hands on her soiled bib-apron. “What other qualifications do you bring to the table?”
“I know the community. Notions that will find acceptance and those that won’t. I enjoy writing, although I’ve not done it professionally. Should you wish for me to tackle a piece, I’d be honored. As far as operating the press, my mother says I am a quick learner, and of all my sisters, the most industrious.”
“Are you timid, or do you like to take risks?”
“Not timid or overly cautious, ma’am. Unconventional independence has gotten me into trouble many times in the past, although I believe I have matured enough to present a balance to the public.”
“Does your family know you’re here today?”
“No, ma’am. I don’t see it as a problem. My chores won’t suffer, and the newspaper is not open on Sundays, which would be my father’s biggest argument.”
“You expect an argument?”
“Nothing good happens in life without a bit of friction.”
“Well said, Miss Gracin.” The woman moved closer to study Tariana. “As much as I hate to admit it, I do need help. I was contemplating putting a sign
in the window, but was secretly afraid that a domineering man might apply. I put out one paper weekly and fill it with everything pertaining to women’s issues and community events. Our clientele is largely female, but I know men are reading the columns because when I present that edgy side of a particular subject, men tend to give me an earful.”
“So, are you interested in procuring help, Miss Freedman?” Tariana attempted to sound professional and demonstrate strong character.
“If you are up for the challenge, I figure we might make a good team, Miss Gracin. You can keep me balanced, and I will teach you the ropes. It is not my goal to alienate the neighbors I desire to serve.”
Excitement surged within Tariana, but she remained calm and collected. “When would you like me to start?”
“Come in tomorrow morning and we’ll discuss your duties, wages, and availability.”
“I shall be here. Good day, Miss Freedman.”
Tariana turned and nearly floated out the door on a cloud. This was the most wonderful feeling she’d ever experienced, even better than her infatuation with Michael, but only a close second to the love that burned in her heart for Jamie. That had not changed. If she couldn’t have him, at lease she’d have an exciting career.
Chapter 11
Tariana rounded the corner and, absent-mindedly bumped into someone walking along Main Street.
“Jamie!” she exclaimed. “Forgive me. My head is in the clouds.”
“I do see a familiar spark in those eyes. What’s up?”
“I wanted to thank you for the rabbit. My father says he invited you to our special dinner tonight,” she said, quickly adding, “but I told him you were having the same at your house, and that surely, you should eat with your family.”
“You told him that? Without consulting me?”
She stammered. “To be honest, I didn’t think you’d be interested and gave you a way out.”
“I could say the same about you,” he said. “What happened last night? I almost left it too long to go hunting, waiting on you. It was dark when I finished.”
“But the whole town was going on about you and Angelica. Some of the ladies were talking about you making reservations at the diner.”
“For last night? We were going out last night. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
Tariana blushed. “But chasing a woman is serious business, and you realize that your Texan has been targeted by others.”
“Well, let them have her,” he said, throwing his arms in the air. “She is full of herself and plays with people’s emotions like a toy. I anticipate she will tire of her pursuit of the Oregon City’s riff-raff before long.”
“Her pursuit…not yours?”
“Does she look like my type? I thought you knew me better than that.”
“Serves me right for listening to gossip. I apologize for not joining you in the hunt last night. Seems I was busy crying my disappointment into the pillow.”
“Disappointed – as in jealous? Are you suggesting there is something more between us than friendship?” Jamie asked.
Tariana felt her face turn beet red, and she bit her bottom lip to stop its quivering. “Don’t be absurd! Now, who’s full of himself?”
“It seems I have spoiled your good mood,” he said, tipping his hat. “I’ll let you be on your way.”
Tariana noticed the lines of hurt etched into his face, and she was confused. “Jamie, if you’re not doing anything special tonight, I would enjoy it if you came to dinner. I have good news to share, and I would love my best friend to hear it first-hand.”
He hesitated before offering an awkward smile. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
She watched him walk away. Inside, her emotions raged with confusion. Tariana was smitten with the man but refused to let her feelings spoil what they had built throughout their entire childhood. Friends were better than lovers she told herself as she hurried home to start preparations for the evening meal.
The aroma filling the kitchen excited Tariana. It had been hard to keep her secret all day long, but she’d decided to let Frances be honored first, and then she’d drop the job bombshell and hope the celebration would continue in a joyful manner. As the afternoon progressed, she couldn’t stop herself from peeking out the window to see if Jamie was coming up the walkway. So far, there was nothing. She held his empty plate to her heart and prayed that God would reunite her with her friend. Tariana could not bear to lose him, even if all she received were the crumbs from the table he’d share with his wife. He’d claimed that the Texan was the one in pursuit, and he’d been the one to flee. That was not the picture they’d portrayed at the 4th of July picnic. Tariana reckoned the beautiful woman with words sweet as sugar icing could easily hook Jamie if she put her mind to it.
Tariana set Jamie’s plate and utensils off to the side in case he showed up, spread the Sunday cloth, and placed a vase of fresh flowers in the middle. The silverware, plates, glasses, and blue cloth serviettes were put meticulously in place on the table for her family, which would include Michael, even though the vows had yet to be recited. It would be good for him to hear Tariana’s apology and know she’d moved on.
Humility felt good, and she basked in the freedom that dreaming of her next great adventure at the newspaper would provide her soul.
When the knock came at the door, Tariana jumped, but all too soon, she heard Frances greeting Michael. She spooned the rabbit stew – the family’s secret recipe of meat, vegetables, herbs and spices – into two large bowls and laid them at opposite ends of the table with a plate of fresh bread beside them. Mother’s pickle preserves and cheese took the spot beside the flowers.
It was perfect.
She watched everyone take their place and attempted to push aside the disappointment that Jamie had decided not to join them. They had just held hands to pray the blessing when a knock came to the door.
“Who would be calling during the meal hour?” Clarence Gracin asked, his voice slightly irritated.
“I understand that you’ve invited Jamie,” Tariana said. “Perhaps he is running late.”
“Ah, yes. I did.”
Her father pushed his chair back from the table. “Be back in a minute. Don’t start without me.”
When he returned, Jamie followed in behind him. Tariana jumped to her feet. “Jamie! I’m so glad you came. Come – sit here, next to me.” She raced for the table setting she’d put off to the side and motioned for Cherise to slide down the bench to make room. Jamie’s eyes were on her, and she felt uncharacteristically nervous.
“Sorry for my late arrival. My family detained me with questions about why I’d been invited to eat with the preacher’s family at the beginning of the week.”
Tariana laughed. “You are always welcome, Jamie. Everyone here knows we’ve been inseparable since birth. Even more so when fish started jumping off our lines and wild game unwillingly volunteered to dress our tables and fill our empty stomachs.”
“And to think you are honoring Michael and I tonight with this scrumptious food offering is an answer to my prayers,” Frances said. “We both want you to be happy in love someday, just like we are.”
“Father, will you pray?” Tariana asked. “I have humble pie planned for dessert.” She reached for the hands on either side of her.
Jamie’s were sweaty and she wondered if he were nervous that his new girl in town might be jealous of the relationship he shared with Tariana. Time would tell.
The younger sisters dominated the conversation throughout the meal with their never-ending updates on the latest in town. When it bordered on gossip, Father cast them a stern look. It did not stop the flow, but it did manage to change the direction. When Tariana noticed her guests sopping up the last of the gravy with the bread, she stood and brought her plate to the sink.
Jamie jumped in to help.
“You’re a guest,” she whispered. “You don’t need to help in the kitchen.”
“I want to spend this time supporting you.
” He looked at the happy couple swooning over each. “Your sister seems very happy.”
“To almost lose your man in death, then with a loss of memory was a great blow, but I think it gave them a fresh outlook on their future.”
“With you out of the way.” Jamie snickered, and she had to join in.
“Yes, with me out of the way. Thank God, I saw the light.” Their chuckles must have reached the group at the table because the voices suddenly went quiet.
“I’ll cut and serve dessert if you want to give your little spiel now,” Jamie offered. “Don’t want anyone choking on that apple cinnamon pie.”
They rushed over to finish clearing the plates while all eyes remained glued on them. The silence proved deafening, and Tariana wished they were all still chatting about the wedding.
Jamie brought two heaping pies to the table, and she placed clean saucers next to him, took a deep breath, and started: “I wanted to take this opportunity to clear the air of my past transgressions. It appears that I wrongly playing matchmaker by determining that Frances was not the right woman for Michael. I sabotaged the relationship whenever I could, and for that, I deeply repent and seek your forgiveness.”
She directed her next words to Frances, “I do love you, and I have witnessed a strength and devotion in you I never knew existed before the accident. Michael was not the perfect fit I imagined for me, and all I can do is plead your forgiveness and ask that we put this deceit behind us.”
Frances jumped to her feet, hurried over to Tariana, and pulled her into her arms in a fierce embrace. Healing flowed from one heart to another. When they separated, both were teary-eyed.
Michael stood with open arms, and Tariana moved in. “I am proud to have you for a little sister, Tariana,” he said. “Our home will always be open to you.”
“Yes!” Tariana exclaimed. “That is exactly what being in your arms feels to me – like we are siblings. Finally, all has been put right.” Tariana’s laugh held a freedom that rippled through the air. “I’ve always wanted a big brother. There are far too many females in this house.”
Obsessed in Oregon (Yours Truly: The Lovelorn Book 8) Page 8
