Daylight Comes (13 page)
When she finished, Lucy gulped a trembling breath. “I don’t have to give Fern the combs, do I, Jeb?”
“No, Lucy. Those belong to you. I never told Fern she could have them.”
Lucy beamed in response, though Macia noted Jeb’s features had creased to resemble the same heavy folds that defined Mr. Johnson’s old hound, Lazybones. Though unkind, it was the most amusing thing she’d witnessed in quite a while. She folded her hands tightly and swallowed down a giggle.
Her father turned his attention to her and began his questioning. He requested an affirmation of Lucy’s earlier account and then immediately moved on and asked that she recount any additional confrontations with Fern. As Macia detailed the incident relating to her ripped gown, she included Fern’s accusation of Lucy. Jeb inched closer to his sister.
“Of course, I knew her accusation was preposterous,” Macia added. “Lucy would never do such a thing.”
Jeb’s shoulders relaxed at Macia’s unequivocal show of support for his sister. While her father continued to interrogate her, Macia noted both Mrs. Johnson and Garrett had moved forward on their chairs.
They seemed to cling to her every word.
Her father tugged at his waistcoat. “Perhaps spoiling your gowns was Fern’s way of warning you to stay away from Jeb?”
“Oh forevermore, Father! She needn’t ruin my entire wardrobe to make her point. At any rate, I’ve given her no reason to believe I have any desire to resurrect my wedding plans with Jeb.”
“I believe I’ll go and visit privately with Fern; then we can reassemble.” Her father caught Garrett’s eye. “I think Harvey is in the library if you’d care to join him there—or you may remain here in the parlor if you prefer.”
Garrett now eyed Jeb with open hostility. When he looked at Macia, his expression became a confused stare. Mrs. Johnson rubbed her hands together, obviously enjoying everything unfolding in front of her. Her husband seemed prepared to bolt from the room at any moment.
Garrett stood and moved to her chair. “Is there someplace we could talk privately?”
Macia led him to her father’s office, which adjoined the library. Careful to close both doors, Macia sat down opposite Garrett. There was little doubt he expected a lengthy explanation. Though he knew Jeb had acted as her escort on several occasions, she’d never mentioned the fact that they had discussed marriage. If that bit of information had ever made its way to Mrs. Johnson’s ears, she’d either forgotten or failed to tell Garrett.
While Garrett was entitled to know of her past, the actual telling felt as though she’d opened an old wound. Garrett listened and asked few questions, for which she was most grateful. She worried, though, that the topic would be revisited in the future if he intended to continue calling on her.
Her father’s announcement that they should all reunite in the parlor brought their chat to an abrupt end, and the two of them hastened to join the others in the parlor.
Macia’s father sighed wearily. “I find I’m not endowed with the wisdom of Solomon. However, one thing has become crystal clear to me.” Lowering himself into the overstuffed chair he’d vacated only a short time earlier, Dr. Boyle loosened his tie. “Issues between Fern and Macia have escalated to a point that I believe it best if Fern seeks employment elsewhere. Fortunately, she agrees with my assessment.
I’ve agreed to assume the costs of her room and board for two weeks at the hotel while she decides upon her future. Of course, I’m willing to listen if any of you have other ideas or suggestions.”
Mrs. Johnson enthusiastically waved a hand. “I wish to say that you truly are a kind man, Dr. Boyle. Why, after the way that woman treated young Lucy and destroyed Macia’s gowns, I’d be tempted to withhold her pay. Instead, you are offering to pay for her room and board.”
Dr. Boyle’s ruddy complexion deepened a shade as he scanned the room. “If there’s nothing more to discuss, why don’t we gather in the library? I believe Harvey is hoping to engage some of you in a game of whist.”
As Garrett and the Johnsons left the room, Jeb motioned to Dr. Boyle and Macia. “I want to thank you for a fine Thanksgiving meal. Since I don’t play cards, I believe Lucy and I will proceed home. Please extend my thanks to Mrs. Boyle.”
Though Lucy whispered to her that she wished to remain, Macia determined she’d not interfere with Jeb’s decision to depart. The situation had become uncomfortable for all of them, and Fern would soon be packing her trunk and moving to the hotel. Jeb could visit with her there if he so desired.
Dr. Boyle escorted them to the front door and handed Lucy her coat. “I know my wife was delighted to have both of you join us. And Fern asked me to tell you she plans to come and visit with you later this evening.” Though her father lowered his voice a notch, Macia heard his final comment quite clearly. A pang of annoyance jabbed her—or was it jealousy?
Lucy peeked around her brother’s lanky frame and waved at Macia. “May I come and see you tomorrow or the next day?”
She wasn’t inclined to find herself in Jeb Malone’s crosshairs again. “If your brother gives you permission, you may come for a visit.”
While Lucy peered expectantly at her brother, Jeb acknowledged Macia’s request with a slight nod. Macia wondered what he privately thought about all that had occurred this day. Likely he wished he had remained at home, eating his fill of bacon and eggs or butter beans. But then he wouldn’t have learned the truth about Fern.
Macia didn’t know if he believed all he’d heard, and Fern could be most convincing, but Jeb certainly had some things to think about. For Lucy’s sake, Macia hoped he’d consider his next move carefully.
M
lacia lifted aside the curtain covering her bedroom window and surveyed the sky. The low-hanging clouds and coating of lacy frost that lined her windowpanes served as a reminder that her journey to the Schmidt farm would require warm clothing and an extra blanket in the carriage. She had hoped Harvey would agree to accompany her on the trip, but he had quickly declined, citing deadlines with the newspaper. Then, without her knowledge or consent, he’d enlisted Garrett to act as her carriage driver. Even worse, Garrett had accepted. After yesterday’s Thanksgiving fiasco there was little doubt the ride to the Schmidts’ would be filled with more questions. When her father had summoned them back into the parlor, she knew Garrett hadn’t finished his inquiry.
She shivered, uncertain if the thought of Garrett’s queries or the cold air seeping through the bedroom window caused the sudden chill. She let the draperies fall back into place. Perhaps Garrett would honor her privacy in this one matter of the heart. After all, she would be more than willing to grant him reciprocity. She’d promise to never inquire into his previous relationships with other women. However, she doubted he’d accept such a pact.
After donning a pink and gray tartan dress of soft flannel, Macia fashioned her hair and slipped on a pair of black kid shoes. She hoped her choices would provide extra warmth. Hastening down the stairs, she tied an apron around her neck and hurried to prepare breakfast.
Fern’s sudden departure had created a gaping hole in the household, one that Macia would be expected to fill, at least to some extent. Her mother was not an early riser and would likely never change her ways, yet breakfast must be prepared for Harvey and her father. Macia could only hope her mother’s health would remain stable. If so, her mother would cook dinner and at least begin preparations for the evening meal. With a modicum of good fortune, Gerta Schmidt would return home with her today and the housekeeping dilemma would be resolved.
A short time later, after downing their breakfast and wishing her well on the journey, her father and brother departed and left her to the dirty dishes. Though the breakfast fare had been tasty, no one would have considered the meal fine dining. But the men hadn’t complained, and for that she was thankful. Yet she imagined they were more than a little anxious to have their meals prepared by someone with culinary skills beyond her own.
The final dishes had been dried and she’d removed her apron when a knock sounded at the front door. She was thankful she’d decided against preparing anything other than oatmeal and fresh biscuits for breakfast, for Garrett was half an hour early. She lifted her heavy coat from the ornate hall rack and checked her hair in the mirror before opening the door.
“Lucy!” She motioned the girl inside. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Were you leaving?”
Macia quickly explained her plans for the day. “However, there’s time for a cup of tea, if you’d like. The water’s still hot.”
Lucy bobbed her head. “I have
lots
to tell you.”
Macia took the girl’s coat and hung it alongside her own before heading off to the kitchen, with Lucy following close on her heels.
“Does Jeb know you’re here?”
“Yes. He said I could spend the day with you, but . . .” Her voice faded like the rising vapor from the teakettle.
Macia moved about the kitchen, pouring the girl a cup of weak tea. After she’d tasted it, Lucy spooned a dollop of cream into the steaming brew and stirred.
“I suppose you could come along with us, though I’m not sure your brother would approve. As I said, Garrett is driving me out to the Schmidt farm. I’m going to see if their daughter is willing to begin work as our housekeeper.” Macia fidgeted with the teapot as she watched Lucy. “Furthermore, we wouldn’t be able to talk—what with Garrett along.”
The girl’s mournful look was nearly more than Macia could bear.
She’d not yet decided whether it would be proper to take Lucy when a knock sounded. “Finish your tea while I answer the door.”
Macia pasted on a pleasant expression before she opened the door.
“Mr. Johnson! I was expecting—”
“Garrett. Yes, I know.” He rubbed his hands together. “May I come in?”
Macia jumped aside. “Where
are
my manners? I do hope nothing is amiss. Has something happened to Garrett?”
Doffing his hat, Mr. Johnson came inside but shook his head when Macia offered to take his coat. “I must get back to the store.
Garrett is ill. He asked me to stop by and tell you he won’t be able to accompany you today.”
Macia clasped a hand to her chest. “I do pray it’s nothing serious.
He appeared to be feeling quite well yesterday.”
Mr. Johnson’s frost-laden mustache drooped over his upper lip like a sodden plume. He raked his thick fingers through his damp facial hair. “He was fine yesterday—wife says he’s running a bit of a fever and has a stomach ailment. He plans to check with your father if he’s not improved by this afternoon.”
Macia thanked Mr. Johnson as he prepared to depart. “Do extend my sympathy to Garrett.”
Mr. Johnson pulled his collar up high around his neck. “I’ll do that. He said he’d come by and make other arrangements once he’s up and about.”
In truth, Macia wanted to stomp her foot and tell Mr. Johnson she must travel to the Schmidt farm this morning. However, Mr.
Johnson would care no more than Harvey or her father had. They each had their own work to attend to, and locating a housekeeper wasn’t part of it. She leaned heavily against the door to gather her thoughts. There was no reason she couldn’t go by herself. She could handle the buggy well enough to make it to the Schmidt farm—at least she thought she could.
Lucy looked up as Macia entered the kitchen. “I’ve finished my tea.” Her words held a note of expectancy.
“Garrett has taken ill. I’m going to the Schmidts’ farm by myself.
I’m not the best carriage driver, Lucy. It’s likely best if you stayed at home this time.”
Lucy squared her shoulders. “I’m very good at handling horses— and carriages, too. Jeb says I have a way with the horses.
Please
let me go with you.”
Macia frowned, uncertain what to do. She’d love to have the girl’s company, yet would Jeb approve? “Only if Jeb gives his permission.”
Jumping up from her chair, Lucy nodded her head enthusiastically. “I’ll have Jeb hitch up the carriage, and I’ll even drive it over here. I should return within the hour. You’ll be pleased to have me along.”
The girl’s bright expression warmed Macia. The journey would be more enjoyable with Lucy by her side. She’d not be required to answer Garrett’s expected questions, and Lucy would have ample time to relate her news. Macia was eager to hear all the girl had to tell. She hoped Jeb would agree to the arrangement.
Macia was waiting at the front door with extra carriage blankets when Lucy returned a short time later. She waited while Lucy tied the horse to the iron post at the front of their house and then bounded up the front steps. Macia opened the door. “What did Jeb have to say?”
Lucy gasped for breath. “I’m ready to go and so is the carriage.” Lucy bounced from foot to foot, and Macia wondered if the girl’s haste was due to the excitement of the anticipated journey or if the weather was colder than she suspected. “May I drive the carriage?”
“Yes, if you prefer. I’m sure you’ll do a much better job than I would.” Macia marveled at the girl. With only a few words of praise, she beamed like the Kansas sunshine on a July afternoon.
They were soon on their way. Macia offered the directions while Lucy took command of the reins. They’d traveled only as far as the outskirts of town when Lucy relaxed and turned her attention to Macia. “Fern came over to our house last night. She and Jeb talked for a long time. I don’t think I’ll need to worry about Fern anymore. She and Jeb ended up in quite an argument.”
Macia clenched her jaw. She ought not be listening to a report of the couple’s private conversation, yet she longed to hear every detail.
Lucy’s cornflower blue eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. “Guess what Jeb said?”
Instead of cautioning the girl to remain silent regarding her brother and Fern, Macia eagerly awaited the information. “I have no idea.”
Lucy flicked the reins, encouraging the horse to move along. “Jeb told Fern he would never marry anyone who treated me badly. He said he now was convinced Fern wouldn’t be nice to me. On top of that, he told her he thought she had a mean streak.” Lucy giggled. “I think Fern’s just like a skunk. She looks kinda pretty and seems nice enough, but when you get close, look out.” Lucy pinched her nose between her thumb and index finger. “Phew. Not so nice!”
Macia laughed at the girl’s antics. How could she chastise Lucy when what she’d said was absolutely true? “Did Fern mention what she might do now?” The question slipped out in spite of Macia’s determination to remain silent on the subject of Fern and Jeb.
“She told Jeb she was going to talk to Mr. and Mrs. Wyman about that job you mentioned over in Nicodemus. She also said she doubted anyone in Hill City would hire her after you got through besmirching her name.”
“Me?” Macia held onto her bonnet against a rush of brisk wind. “How dare she say such a thing!”
“Don’t worry. Jeb came to your defense and told Fern you’d never do anything to prevent her from earning a living.”
“That’s true.” Macia pointed at the fork in the road. “We go to the right. It won’t be much farther now.”
Calling on the Schmidts hadn’t yielded exactly the response Macia had hoped for, though she couldn’t complain. Mr. Schmidt had agreed he and his wife would drive Gerta to Hill City after their church services on Sunday in order to meet Macia’s parents. Providing all went according to plan, Gerta would remain with the Boyle family and begin her duties the following morning. After Mr. Schmidt set forth the plan, his wife insisted Macia and Lucy join them for the noonday meal. Pointing insistently at the kitchen chairs, it became abundantly clear she’d not be refused.
The older woman obviously approved as the two visitors feasted upon her German fare of
Gulaschsuppe
and hard rolls. Lucy giggled when Mrs. Schmidt insisted she dip her
Brochen
into the hearty beef soup. “To soften the bread,” Gerta explained. Mrs. Schmidt bobbed her head in agreement as she lifted a roll and dipped the thick crust into her own soup.
When she was satisfied the girls had eaten their fill of the substantial repast, Mrs. Schmidt pulled a heavy baking pan filled with apple dumplings from the warming oven. The mouth-watering aroma of cinnamon and apples drifted through the room and further whetted their appetites. No matter how much her stomach might protest, Macia knew she would have to have at least a spoonful of the dessert.
Before serving, Mrs. Schmidt drizzled each dumpling with a warm, thick sauce of butter, burnt sugar, cream, and an added pinch of nutmeg to enhance the flavor.
The dumplings tasted as delicious as they smelled, and Macia ate more than one spoonful. After they had finished the meal, Macia offered to assist with the dishes—the offer was declined—and thanked the Schmidts for their kind hospitality. With the days continuing to grow shorter, she wanted to ensure their return well before dark.With a final wave and farewells, Lucy took hold of the reins and urged the horse down the lane.
“I like Gerta,” Lucy said. “She’s much nicer than Fern. Maybe she’ll cook some of that
Suppe
for your family.” Lucy giggled softly.
“And you can invite me to eat with you when she does.”
Macia joined her laughter and agreed. “I didn’t believe I could eat so much, but Mrs. Schmidt changed my mind in short order.”
Lucy turned her head and peeked from beneath the brim of her woolen bonnet. “Do you think Jeb will want to court Gerta?”
Macia shrugged. She had no idea what Jeb might prefer in women. She would have never guessed he would be taken by the likes of Fern. The idea that Lucy would think of Gerta as a possible love interest for Jeb astounded Macia. Truth be told, a pang of jealousy stabbed at her heart. She wondered if Gerta would soon replace her in the girl’s affections. There was no denying the German woman was likeable and pretty enough, too. Her rosy cheeks, quick smile, and rounded figure made Gerta appear younger than her years, especially when her blond hair fell around her shoulders in two long braids as it had today. There was little doubt Lucy would be drawn to the young woman—not to mention the thought of having Gerta as a substitute mother who would prepare delicious meals each evening.
A stiff breeze assaulted their carriage, and Lucy offered the reins to Macia. “Would you take over for a while? Even with gloves, my fingers are growing numb. If I can use my muff for a while, they’ll warm up and then I’ll take over again.”
Before taking the reins, Macia offered the girl her own fur muff.
The warmth would surely help thaw Lucy’s cold fingers. “Would you like another blanket?” Macia reached behind her and grabbed one of the additional quilts she’d placed in the buggy.
Lucy pulled it around her and shoved her hands into the muff. “This is much better.”
Apparently the blanket and warm muff achieved their goal, for shortly Lucy’s eyelids grew heavy and finally closed. Lucy’s rhythmic breathing, mingled with the rocking motion of the buggy, lulled Macia into a state of drowsiness. The horse plodded along at a steady pace without encouragement, and the reins eventually fell lax in Macia’s hands.
Macia didn’t know what had awakened her. Perhaps it was the horse’s frightened whinny or the abrupt tug of the reins in her hands. It may have been the changing motion of the carriage or the coyote’s alarming howl. In any case, by the time she was fully alert, the horse’s nostrils were flared and, with ears laid back, shoulders thrust forward, and head bowed low, the animal careened down the roadway at breakneck speed.
Lucy jarred to attention, her eyes wide with fear. “Give me the reins!” Her high-pitched command could barely be heard above the rumbling wheels beating upon the snow-packed road.