Lanterns and Lace (3 page)

She fidgeted, and Grant waited.

“I always pay my obligations,” she said.

“Not this time.”

“Did my sister?”

“She didn’t have an opportunity.”

“Are you Rebecca’s real father?”

“The adoption papers state so.” Grant fought to gain control of a slowly rising irritation with the woman before him. “Jenny, why are you in Kahlerville?”

Silence permeated the room—so quiet that Grant heard the wind rustling through the trees.

“Do I need to repeat my question?” He allowed a moment for her to reply. “My intentions are not to be rude. I simply want an answer.” He leaned back in his chair and ignored the pounding of his heart.

She squeezed her hands together more tightly than before. “I came to see my sister’s grave . . . and to escort my niece back to Cleveland where she belongs.”

Jenny realized she’d spoken rashly the moment the words escaped her lips. Color rose in Grant’s face. A twinge of fear twisted inside her, as though Father sat opposite her. She hadn’t planned to be insensitive or cruel but logical. Surely Rebecca was a burden to him and Miss Mimi. Jenny pushed aside the scene of Rebecca and Grant sharing lunch yesterday. The memory tugged at her heart with a longing for someone to love and be loved as she saw with them. But sentiments were for another time. She’d come this far with the quest for her niece, and she must continue.

Grant cleared his throat. “Excuse me, Miss Martin, but Rebecca is my daughter. I would be more than happy to show you Jessica’s grave and relate to you those final moments of her life, but you are not taking your niece anywhere.” Grant spoke with control, but his gaze challenged her. “She is my daughter.”

“I know she’s legally yours. My parents hired a Pinkerton to locate Jessica after she left home. He informed us of my sister’s social status.” She lifted her chin. “And of her passing after she gave birth to an illegitimate daughter. Surely, Dr. Andrews, you can see that, as Rebecca’s aunt, I am the proper guardian. Perhaps you need some time—”

“I don’t need any time to consider your ridiculous, unreasonable request.” The color in Grant’s face now resembled a ripe tomato.

Deep inside, Jenny wanted to cease speaking. She sounded cruel, uncaring, not even diplomatic. “But you have no wife, only a housekeeper. Rebecca takes her meals in the dining room instead of in the kitchen where she needs to learn proper etiquette until age fourteen before joining adults.” Perspiration dotted her forehead and trickled down the side of her face.

“Are you questioning my parenting abilities?”

Jenny caught her breath. She’d gone too far. “I said nothing of the sort. From what I’ve seen, you’re a fine father. But think about Rebecca’s future. She needs to learn the proprieties of society. Unless—”

“Unless what?”

“Unless you are her true father. Why else would you adopt an illegitimate baby from a woman who made her living in a brothel?”

Grant leaned forward. “I have no idea who fathered Rebecca. Jessica asked me to raise her as my own, and I gave my word.”

“When did she make this request?”

“When she lay dying . . . moments after Rebecca’s birth.”

Desperation bubbled in Jenny’s throat. “My sister did not have the capacity to make rational decisions. Anyone who saw the senseless things she did would attest to her irresponsibility. Our parents have suffered long enough. She disgraced them with her utter selfishness. They grieve her death. They grieve her mistakes. Let me have Rebecca. I beg of you. They need a glimmer of hope from the daughter they lost.”

“And it took you more than two years to reach that conclusion?”

“I’m here now.”

He shook his head and laughed. “A little late for afterthoughts. Is taking my daughter from those who love her for your parents’ benefit or yours? Because I haven’t heard one word about love for your sister or Rebecca.”

“I’m basing my claims on reality.”

“Am I to be enlightened by your argument?”

She heard the bitterness in every word. He’d been pushed to his limit.

“I’m sorry for the way I broached this subject,” she said. “I want what’s best for my niece, and I believe that is with her own family. You are right in stating a good bit of time has elapsed. I had to work and save the money to arrange transportation here.” Jenny locked battle with her gaze. He had to see she was right.

“Posting a missive doesn’t cost a cent. I’d have paid for it. And what about your parents? Were they not able to send a letter, either? I fail to see a display of concern over the welfare of Rebecca. Help me to understand your sudden change of heart for a sister for whom you obviously had little affection.”

Jenny’s head throbbed. She’d utterly failed in this endeavor. “I can’t speak any more of family matters.”

“But you have no problem prying into mine.”

“I believe our conversation is finished, Dr. Andrews.” Jenny stood on wobbly legs. “I will be moving from here within the hour. Please have my bill ready for payment. I do regret that I haven’t been able to communicate what is in my heart. Perhaps we can talk at a later date.”

“Our conversation is not over.” Grant moved to the door and blocked her exit. His presence loomed over her. She would hear what he had to say, whether she chose to or not.

“You may do as you wish, but first you will listen to me. How you feel about your sister is certainly your affair, but how you speak of her is another matter. She happens to be my daughter’s mother. Moments ago, you made derogatory remarks about Jessica, and I would appreciate it for my daughter’s sake that such comments never occur again.” He appeared much calmer than she. “While you are in my home or in the presence of my daughter or any of us who love and care for her, you are forbidden to defame Jessica’s memory. She died a good woman, and she believed I would be a suitable father for her child. I accepted the task. I am not a perfect man, but I love my daughter with all my heart. Neither you nor anyone else will ever take her from me. Is that clearly understood?”

“I’ve upset you, and I apologize—”

He raised his hand, and the gesture silenced her. “You can examine the adoption papers and do whatever else you feel is necessary. Yet understand this: Rebecca Faith Andrews is my child. She is not the fancy of an impetuous, demanding woman who has no more manners than to enter a man’s home and declare his child her property. Good day, Miss Martin. As I stated before, there are no charges for my services. Jessica was family, and you are her sister.”

Jenny’s face grew warm. “I have not traveled all this distance just to turn around and go back home. We have matters to discuss and settle.”

“When you are able to discuss things calmly, perhaps.” He opened the door of his study. “Good day, Miss Martin.”

*****

Grant listened to the sharp click of Jenny’s heels as she marched across the foyer’s wooden floor to the stairway. He closed the door a bit more soundly than usual, repressing a deep desire to slam it until the whole house shook. And once the house shook and the window panes rattled, he’d do the same to Miss Jenny Martin. Anger invaded every part of his body, and he instinctively paced the floor to dispel its fervor. He’d gladly carry all of Jenny Martin’s bags and that massive trunk down the stairs to his wagon and on to the boardinghouse.

So, Jenny Martin came to Kahlerville to whisk away my daughter! How perfectly virtuous of her. He pounded his fist into his palm.

Grant considered how Jenny had paid little attention to Rebecca at breakfast except to make a comment here and there. Not at all the actions one would expect from an aunt who had never seen her niece before. No tender, endearing looks or endless questions about the first two years of his daughter’s life. Rather, she observed her cautiously, as though fearing something.

“Humph.” She probably had been assessing his abilities as a father and planned to make full report of it to some fancy city lawyer. Not one word of love or affection for Jessica—her own sister. The woman didn’t even know how to respect the dead. He’d like nothing better than to follow her right up those stairs and escort her out of town.

She’d never set foot in this house again. And as far as visiting Rebecca—well, Jenny could see her from a distance with Mimi or him. Jenny should have stayed in Cleveland where she belonged. And what about her parents? Who would allow a single young woman to travel across the country in the company of that . . . that dandy?

He persisted in pacing the room, fuming with each reflection. His heart raced until his pulse thundered throughout his body. So intense were his emotions that he barely heard a faint knock.

“Papa,” the little voice said. “Papa.”

Taking a deep breath, Grant opened the door and bent down to his little daughter. Just seeing her soothed his vehement emotions. “Yes, sweetheart.” He brushed a wispy curl from her face.

“Lady cry.” She pointed to the stairs and searched his face for an answer.

“Did she say anything to you?” Fury threatened to take over his last bit of control. Rebecca shook her head, and her brown eyes grew even bigger. “Lady kiss me.”

She pointed to her cheek.

“Miss Martin kissed you?” Grant said, surprised at Jenny’s display of affection.

His daughter nodded and reached for Grant to take her. Trembling, she wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head against his shoulder.

Remorse for his burst of temper pricked Grant’s heart. His angry words had frightened Rebecca, the one person he wanted to protect.

“Why lady cry?” Rebecca said.

Shame needled at him. He could have handled the situation much better than this. Look what his self-righteous attitude had caused.

“Papa?”

Grant looked into his daughter’s sweet face and kissed her cheek. “I’m sorry Papa’s loud voice scared you.”

“Scare lady, too.”

Oh, Lord, out of the mouths of babes do we hear the truth. He lifted her chin. “Then I’m going to take you to Mimi and go see about Miss Martin.”

“You kiss her and tell her you’re sorry?”

Not in a million years. “I will apologize and see that she’s fine.”

He carried Rebecca into the dining room and set her in Mimi’s lap. The older woman’s eyes mirrored her curiosity.

“I’m going upstairs to talk to Jenny,” Grant said. “Rebecca said she was crying.”

“I saw.” Mimi moistened her lips. “Rebecca, sweetheart, why don’t you help me by carrying the spoons into the kitchen?”

The child smiled happily. “Yes, ma’am.” Scooting off Mimi’s lap, she gathered up the utensils.

“Walk very slowly,” Mimi said, “and put them on the kitchen table. You can count them, too.”

Grant watched Rebecca disappear. “Did you hear anything?”

“I’m old, not deaf. I heard more than I cared to.”

“Didn’t handle it well, did I?”

“Better than I would.” Her dark blue eyes smoldered. “Left to me, you’d be calling the sheriff by now. I’d have given her more than a piece of my mind.”

Grant sighed. “I wasn’t a gentleman. Not only did my shouting upset Jenny and Rebecca, but it also displeased God. I’m going to apologize and hope I don’t lose my temper again.” He turned to leave, then glanced back into the woman’s disquieting face. “Pray for me. I’m going to need it.”

“Murder has crossed my mind.”

He forced a chuckle. “That’s the least of what has crossed mine.”

Grant walked back into the front hallway where the circular staircase wound to the upper bedrooms. A rag doll sat precariously on the first step, its head touching its toes as though waiting for a tumble. Without a thought, he placed the doll upright, thinking he felt the same way. Resting his hand briefly on the banister, he slowly ascended the stairs. Each wooden step, each heartbeat brought him closer to another confrontation with Jenny. God needed to put barbed-wire across his mouth.

Taking a deep breath, he rapped on Jenny’s bedroom door, still uncertain of what he should say. The fire of anger had slowly dissipated, but he could not forget the woman wanted to take his daughter from him.

“Who is there?”

Jenny’s weak voice reminded him of her illness. He cringed at the thought. “I’d like to apologize for my outburst of temper.” Silence met him as he waited patiently before speaking. “Is it possible for us to talk without arguing?” At last the door opened. Her red swollen eyes heaped more coals on his guilt. What happened to his compassionate nature?

“I think enough has been said.” Jenny’s lips quivered.

“Maybe so, but I am sorry for the rude manner in which I spoke to you.”

She swallowed hard, her gaze darting about. “I lost control of my temper, too. I should have considered the circumstances before I spoke so harshly.”

For the first time, he noticed how the young woman couldn’t weigh much more than a sack of feed. And in that brief moment she reminded him of a little girl recovering from a temper tantrum. “You’ve been ill,” he said. “And you’re not fully recovered. As for me, I don’t really have an excuse.”

“You love your daughter.” She dabbed her nose with a lace handkerchief. “I should have seen and understood how you felt.”

“I love Rebecca with all that is in me. She’s a special gift, more precious than my own life.” He hesitated. “I’m sorry to have upset you. Please don’t leave today. Spend another day or two recuperating. There’s a great deal for us to discuss but certainly not now. Rest today, and perhaps tomorrow you’ll see things differently.”

Jenny continued to stand rigid, and he fully expected another battle. “I’m not so sure that is a good idea. You’re aware of my reasons for coming to Kahlerville, and the tension between us will be noticeably uncomfortable.”

“Not if we make a good effort to be civil to each other.”

Her eyes bore into his, eyes too much like Rebecca’s. “I would think you’d want to be rid of me.”

Without hesitation, but the problem would probably get worse. Grant gave her a half smile. “Let’s get acquainted for Rebecca’s sake. Who knows? We may even become friends.”

“I will not change my mind about why I came to Kahlerville.”

He sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. “I realize that, but I think once you see how happy we are as a family, you will reconsider your plans.” She didn’t reply, and he wondered what she was thinking. “We could take Rebecca and visit the cemetery tomorrow, providing you are feeling up to it.”

“Tomorrow is Saturday,” she said, giving the impression that time played an important part in her venture.

“Does tomorrow present a problem?” Did she have plans with Aubrey Turner?

“Oh no. Not at all. I was thinking about my move into the boardinghouse.”

“You could handle that matter on Monday. Sunday for us is a day of rest. Would you like to accompany us to church?”

She glanced at the floor, then back to his face. “I don’t go to church. Haven’t been there since I was a little girl.”

“Then will you do us the honors?”

“I really don’t know what to say.”

Grant ignored the reluctance in her voice. “A yes will do.”