A Silken Thread

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  Then shame smacked him. He didn’t have to carry any worry by himself. Hadn’t Pa and Ma taught him to take his cares to Jesus? Maybe it was best he hadn’t got to talk to Pa about Quincy. It’d only upset him.

  Willie yawned. Pa needed his rest, and Willie did, too. He aimed himself for the trolley that would carry him home.

  Laurel

  Butterflies danced in Laurel’s stomach. She climbed into Mr. Salisbury’s carriage on the morning of October ninth and scooted over to make room for Mama. Ethel, Anna, and Mary shared the seat across from Laurel and Mama. The children wriggled, excited about their day off from school in the middle of the week—a rare treat.

  Little Gene rode with his papa on the driver’s seat, and as the carriage rolled over the cobblestone streets, the little boy’s chortles carried through the windows, making Ethel and Mama smile.

  Laurel wanted to smile. She wanted to squirm in excitement like Anna and Mary. Liberty Bell Day at the exposition promised much fun and celebration. Since the trolleys had waived children’s fares, all her siblings intended to bring their children to see the actual Liberty Bell from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. She’d never imagined she would have the chance to see the bell for herself or be close enough to trace the crack from a cannonball and read the inscription. She knew the words by heart—“Proclaim LIBERTY Throughout all the Land unto all the Inhabitants Thereof”—from one of the history books on Mama’s shelf.

  Mama was eager to see the bell, but she claimed her main reason for attending was to watch her primary-school-age grandchildren participate in a children’s choir on the square. Eugene teased that his girls had been practicing for a week already and he wasn’t sure he could bear listening to it sung one more time, even if it was part of a special ceremony. As if privy to Laurel’s thoughts, Mary began humming the tune “America.”

  Laurel propped her arm on the window case and rested her chin on her wrist, staring unseeingly at the city and its busyness. Why did something that seemed such a good idea yesterday now plague her with doubts? She envisioned Langdon’s fervent expression during their brief ride yesterday on Clara Meer in one of the rowboats. He’d instructed Quincy Tate to command the oars, and he joined her on the bench at the back of the small boat. When the boat went beneath the bridge’s shadow, he took her hands in his and leaned close. She thought he might steal a kiss, but he only voiced a request.

  “Miss Millard, when your family attends the exposition tomorrow, introduce me to them.”

  Of course she’d agreed. How could she resist when he gazed at her so adoringly? Especially since he’d forgiven her for lunching with Willie Sharp instead of meeting him like she’d promised. He’d even accepted her simple explanation that Miss Warner had forbidden the girls to leave the Silk Room that day. How kind and understanding he’d been about her failing to meet him. How tender and attentive he’d been each day since. Even so, she should have begged a delay in his meeting Mama and the others.

  Laurel pressed a palm to her churning stomach. Only three weeks had passed since the day she accidentally slammed against his frame and bruised her forehead on his chin. Nell and Mayme would probably gasp in shock at her audacity in bringing him to Mama after only such a short period of time. They, as well as Alfred and Raymond, would be furious that she’d been spending time with a man at all. Even Eugene might lower his brows in disapproval when he discovered how many times she and Langdon had met by the fountain or at the lake without a chaperone. It wouldn’t matter that dozens of other people were always nearby. She had ignored propriety. If Eugene didn’t scold, Mama or one of Laurel’s other siblings certainly would. If they did so in Langdon’s presence, she might die of mortification.

  The carriage stopped. The familiar tunnel loomed outside the window. Laurel swallowed. They’d reached the fairgrounds. Already. Mama gave her a little nudge. “Hop out, Laurel.”

  She might have been wearing a suit of armor, such effort it took to lift herself from the seat and step from the carriage. Mama, Ethel, and the girls followed her out, and Eugene swung Little Gene over the edge. Ethel captured the giggling boy in her arms.

  “Go on inside.” Eugene took up the reins. “I’ll park the carriage and catch up with you.”

  Laurel led her family through the tunnel and pointed to a spot beneath an oak tree off the sidewalk. “I need to go to work, but Miss Warner is closing the Silk Room for the ceremony to honor the bell, so I’ll meet you in the square at eleven.”

  Mary shook her finger at Laurel. “Don’t be late, Aunt Laurel.”

  The gesture reminded her so much of Nell that resentment prickled. She tamped down a sharp retort and forced a smile. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t miss hearing you and Anna sing.” She turned and darted off, weaving her way through the throng of families pouring onto the grounds. At the Women’s Building, she clattered up the steps and reached for the ornate door handle, but a hand shot out and caught it before she did. She turned and found Willie Sharp beside her.

  “Where did you come from?” She clapped her hand over her mouth. What an ungracious greeting. She lowered her hand and offered an apologetic grimace. “I meant to say thank you. I didn’t see you.”

  He followed her inside, chuckling. “Sorry if I startled you. I’ve been right behind you the whole way through the square. With so many folks around, no wonder you didn’t notice.” He glanced back, as if searching for something. “It’s gonna be a busy day. Lots of people here even before the buildings open up.”

  “Well, it is Liberty Bell Day.” Laurel crossed to the Silk Room hallway, aware of him close on her heels. “I would imagine nearly every family in Atlanta will try to bring their children to see the Liberty Bell. Such an important piece of American history.”

  “Is your family comin’?” He opened the Silk Room door for her and pushed the little piece of wood used to hold it against the wall into place.

  “Yes.” Laurel’s stomach knotted again. “Mama, Alfred, Nell, Eugene, Raymond, Mayme, plus all the husbands, wives, and children—twenty-six in all.” A hysterical giggle built in her throat, and she swallowed twice to control it. “They’ll all be here to…see.” As soon as they set their eyes on Langdon, no one would pay attention to the Liberty Bell.

  Officer Sharp grinned. “That’s real nice for you. I sure wish my pa could come see the bell.” His face clouded. “It’d mean a lot to him.”

  How could she have forgotten about his father? She’d vowed to pray for Mr. Sharp, but in her worry over Langdon, the ailing man had slipped her mind. Guilt poked her. How could she be so self-centered? She longed to appease her conscience, but what could she do?

  An idea struck. “A photographer is setting up a booth near the Liberty Bell today. Miss Warner said he would sell images for twenty-five cents. Perhaps you could have your picture taken beside the bell.”

  Officer Sharp nodded, a slow grin climbing his cheeks, which, she noticed, were pink from a fresh shave. “That’s a fine idea, Miss Millard. Except…” His countenance fell again. He slipped his hand into his pocket and withdrew a few coins. “I gave the herdic driver ten cents for my ride this mornin’. Only have fifteen cents left. Even if I skip lunch, I won’t have enough to have a picture made.”

  His crestfallen expression pierced her. She wished she could cheer him again. Langdon carried a pocketful of coins each day. He would be able to pay for a dozen images, and he would purchase a photograph for her, no doubt, but he surely wouldn’t offer to help Officer Sharp. On impulse, she dug in her pocket for the coins she carried every day and held them out to him. “Here.”

  He stared at her open palm as if she’d produced a scorpion. “W-what?”

  “Take it.” She stretched her arm, bringing her hand a few inches closer to him, and smiled into his stunned face. “Mama sends me with ten cents each day. ‘In case of emergencies,’ she says. I won’t need it today. With my whole family here, if I have an emergency they�
�ll help with it. So I don’t need the nickels, but you do. Take them and have your photograph made for your father.”

  He lifted his gaze to hers, his mouth slightly ajar and disbelief etched into his features.

  “Please. Isn’t it important to keep his spirits up? You said yourself seeing the bell would mean a lot to him. So let him see it. Let him see his son with it.” She held her breath, inwardly begging him to lay aside his pride and take the two five-cent pieces.

  Oh, such indecision on his face. He sighed. His shoulders slumped. Finally he pinched the coins from her palm and gave her a wobbly grin. “Thank you, Miss Millard. I…I’ll get that photograph taken for my pa.” He straightened his frame, and resolve flooded his face. “But I’m only borrowing this. I’ll pay it back.”

  “That will be just fine. But”—she waggled her finger at him, more playfully than Mary had a little earlier—“you still need lunch. So please join my family and me. My sisters, Nell and Mayme, are bringing a large basket of sandwiches. They always make more than we need. Let us share with you.”

  A titter reached Laurel’s ears. She shot a startled look over her shoulder. Berta and Felicia, as well as Miss Warner, stood a few feet behind her. All wearing teasing grins. Had they observed her and listened to everything she’d said to Officer Sharp?

  She slid her hand to her neck and searched for a loose strand of hair. She didn’t find one, so she tugged a piece free of her bun and twirled it. “He has to eat.” The defensive comment sounded ridiculous even to her ears, but why did she feel defensive? She’d only offered a kindness. Even so, a cloak of embarrassment enveloped her.

  She faced the security guard and stiffened her frame. “Officer Sharp, my family intends to picnic beside Clara Meer after the children sing on the square. Feel free to join us.” Then she marched to the loom, flinging a silencing look at the trio of grinning women. “I think we’d all better get to work.”

  Langdon

  “ ‘…From every mountainside, let freedom ring…’ ”

  The childish voices rang across the grounds. Langdon stood to the rear of the crowd. He had no youngsters to observe, so he hadn’t bothered to press close. From his position, he couldn’t even see the bell that had brought so many people to the exposition today, but he didn’t mind. Why such a fuss over an old, cracked bell? However, he did want to locate Laurel. Eight of her fifteen nieces and nephews were part of the choir, so she was surely at the front.

  He worked his way through the assembled listeners, ignoring the grunts and scowls of those he bumped. “ ‘Let music swell the breeze…’ ” As the children began the third verse of the song penned in the 1830s by a reverend, he finally spotted her at the very edge of the crowd. The tall man who’d whisked her away from him stood behind her with his hand resting on the shoulder of an older woman who was most likely the matriarch of the family. Those clustered around them were probably her relatives.

  His gaze drifted across the group, silently counting. Five siblings. Five spouses of siblings. Children…so many children. He shuddered. Laurel had mentioned her desire for a big family more than once during their brief meetings. Each time, he managed to squelch his true feelings, but he also dropped hints about the benefits of raising only one child—less of a financial burden, the ability to shower the child with undivided attention, the quietness of a home not overrun with squalling brats. Well, of course he hadn’t said “squalling brats” to her, but it was what he meant. Mother deserved to be a doting grandmother, and he intended to grant her the desire, but she would be satisfied with one grandchild. Given time, the easily pleased Laurel would bow to his preference.

  “ ‘…Author of liberty…’ ”

  If he remembered “America” correctly, the children were on the last stanza of the song. If he didn’t reach Laurel before the choir finished, he might lose her in the crowd. He worked his way to the back, trotted around to the side, and came to a stop next to Laurel’s group just as the children sang, “ ‘…great God our King!’ ”

  Langdon applauded along with the others, inching closer to Laurel with every smack of his palms. The overprotective brother noticed him first. He didn’t smile, but neither did he frown. He stopped clapping and tapped Laurel’s shoulder. Still patting her hands together, she lifted her face to her brother. He nodded in Langdon’s direction, and she jerked her gaze.

  Those warm brown eyes met his. Her applause slowed and stopped. Pink decorated her cheeks. She eased away from the group and stopped in front of him, hands linked, expression uncertain.

  Trepidation attacked Langdon. “Is something wrong?”

  She glanced over her shoulder. He looked, too, and discovered both the older woman and the brother observing them. She turned back, biting her lip. “No, nothing’s wrong. I only…well…” A nervous giggle erupted. “I neglected to tell my family about you.”

  He barely heard her over the chatter of the crowd, which meant he’d need to shout to be heard. He preferred a private exchange. He caught her elbow and guided her several yards away to the outer edge of the square. “Now, please repeat what you said.” Not because he hadn’t heard, but because he wanted her to reconsider her words.

  “I…” She swallowed, wringing her hands. “There’s something I haven’t told you. About my family.”

  He crunched his brows and dipped his head toward her. “All right. I’m listening.”

  “You see, they…” She licked her lips. “That is, I’m the youngest.”

  “Yes.” He already knew this.

  “And as the youngest, my brothers and sisters feel that…” She swallowed. “They want me to take care of Mama.”

  He folded his arms over his chest. “Miss Millard, you’re speaking in riddles. I’m an intelligent man, but I’m unable to discern the clues you’re giving me. Would you please speak plainly?”

  She closed her eyes for a moment, as if gathering strength, then fixed her gaze on him and said in a rush, “They told me I couldn’t marry until Mama has gone to her reward with Papa. So if I’m to become someone’s wife, it must be with the understanding that my mother accompanies me to my new home.”

  Her expression changed from distraught to desperate. “If I introduce you to my siblings, they will immediately assume you are courting me. If…if you are truly courting me, you must assure them Mama will be cared for, too. I know you have the financial means to do so. Do you possess the willingness?”

  Langdon

  “Of all the—” Langdon bit down on the tip of his tongue and stopped himself from expressing his true thoughts. He counted silently to three, took a deep breath, and curled his hand gently around her upper arm. “—things a person can do, caring for a loved one is the most important.”

  Hopefulness glittered in her eyes. “Then you’d take Mama in?”

  The sun would have to turn green as a frog’s belly and drop from the sky before he’d open his home to a mother-in-law who would question his every move and be a constant interloper in every conversation. He smiled. “Of course.” He didn’t have to admit where he’d take her. Not until the nuptials were over.

  “Oh, Langdon…” She covered her blushing cheeks with her palms and gaped at him. “I-I mean Mr. Rochester.”

  Her blunder told him more about how smitten she’d become than anything else she could have said. He gave her arm a soft squeeze and slipped his hand into his trouser pocket. “Now, now, Miss Millard, no need to hide in embarrassment.” He waited until she drew her hands from her face. “Truth be told, it gave me a lift to hear my given name flow so easily from your tongue.”

  He looked past her shoulder. The group of adults and children, with the woman he’d identified as Laurel’s mother at the forefront, clustered near the square’s fountain. He smiled and lifted his chin in a brief acknowledgment, then returned his attention to Laurel.

  “It seems your family is waiting for you. Would you like me t
o escort you to them? Then you can make the introductions.”

  She held up one slender hand. “Before we go…my mother doesn’t know the condition my brothers and sisters gave me. So we mustn’t speak of it.”

  He frowned. “Then how am I to assure them your mother’s future needs will be met?”

  She sent a quick, frantic look over her shoulder. “See my brother Alfred? He’s the one with the balding head and muttonchop whiskers.”

  Langdon picked the man from the group. “The one who seems to have been chewing on a sour pickle?”

  She cringed. “Yes. He often scowls that way. Mama says it’s because he’s the oldest and feels accountable for all of us.”

  Then he should be the one to take in Mama. Langdon cleared his throat. “What about him?”

  “If you could take him aside, explain to him that you aren’t trying to squire me away from my duty to Mama, then it should ease his worries.”

  He considered her suggestion. If he refused, he would have to start over on his search for a suitable girl. In some ways it might be easier, but would he find a girl who fit all three of the stipulations he’d established for his future wife? He gazed into her upturned, besotted face and smiled. “Of course I can do that.” He lowered his voice to a whisper and said, “Laurel.”

  The blush he’d come to expect brightened her cheeks. He chuckled and offered his elbow.

  “Miss Millard, it’s time for your family to become acquainted with me.”

  Willie

  Willie stood in line for an hour to have his picture taken beside the Liberty Bell. While he waited, he constantly scanned the grounds. If any sort of altercation broke out, he’d leave his spot and return to duty. To his relief, even though people swarmed the grounds like ants on a honey spill, the high spirits never changed to orneriness.