Stephanie Grace Whitson - [Quilt Chronicles] (29 page)

“Jane.”

She looked up at him.

He reached into his coat pocket and withdrew an envelope. “I—” His voice wobbled. He coughed and looked down at the envelope. “There’s no proper way to thank you.” He blinked. “No proper way to apologize, either. For what you’ve gone through.” Again, he cleared his throat. “You take this and…” He shook his head. Looked at Ellen. Inhaled sharply. “If you ever need anything—I don’t care what—if it is in my power to give it…”

“I’ve already taken care of that,” Jane said. Forcing a smile, she looked at Georgia. “I’ve demanded raisin cream pie for life.”

“And pecan rolls,” Georgia added.

The warden thrust the envelope at her. “Then you’re all set.” He offered his arm.

Mamie headed out, but just when they’d turned into the road, Martin Underhill appeared at the top of the administration building stairs, hollering something and waving.

“What on earth—” Mamie reined the mare in, and Martin galloped down the stairs, a picnic basket tucked under his arm.

“Almost missed you!” he gasped, trotting around the back of the buggy to reach Jane’s side. He took a deep breath. “Wanted you to have—heard you wanted—” He gulped. “She’s Patch’s sister,” he said of the white kitten that popped its head out of the basket. “And she’s just as sweet as Patch.”

Jane reached in to scratch behind its ears, and the kitten leaned into her, purring.

Martin smiled and bobbed his head. “See? A match made in heaven.”

Mamie leaned over. “Martin?”

“Now, Mamie. I know what you said. It’s a terrible time to force a pet on a woman. But I just think maybe they need each other.” He looked up at Jane. “But if you don’t want her—“

“I want her,” Jane glanced at Mamie and gave a little nod. “Really.”

“Well, of course you do,” Mamie smiled. “Obviously, I was wrong about the timing.” She peered at Martin.

“Oh. Well. All right, then.” Martin released his hold on the basket and stepped back.

“But that wasn’t what I was going to say just now,” Mamie called out as he headed back around the rear of the buggy. She followed his progress until he came alongside her.

“I’m listening,” Martin said.

Mamie cleared her throat. “You are the kindest, noblest, bravest, most compassionate, smartest man I have ever known. All of that rolled into what I will not deny is an unconventional package, because after I drive away you are going to wonder about what I’m about to say, and I want you to know that I have thought about exactly what it means, and whatever you decide to do with the information is up to you. I just need to inform you of something.”

Underhill gulped audibly. “What—what is it, Mamie?” Mamie hiccuped. Twice. “I love you, Martin Underhill.” And with that, she flicked the reins and urged Jenny into a smart trot.

J
ane stood motionless just inside the back door to Manerva. Carpetbag in hand, she hesitated on the threshold. To her right, the stairs led up to her little room. To her left, the disaster known as “the back room” waited. Straight ahead through the doorway, the long surface of the counter in the main shop was partially hidden by three new dresses.

“Toodle-oo-hoo-hoo,” Minnie called, bustling into view and waving Jane and Mamie into the shop while she hung the C
LOSED
sign on the front door, rattling on about how that dark brown with the pink accents would compliment Jane’s chestnut hair and how she just loved those chrome yellow accents in this season’s indigos. As for the cadet blue that was just… well… a practical color for everyday use.

“Of course you’ll need a nicer ensemble for church and such, but I wanted you to have time to look through some of the fashion plates before we got into anything like that.” She paused. “Don’t take this the wrong way, dear, but you’re so thin… and I thought it likely you’ll put on a bit of weight. I allowed for that in the seams with the calicoes. Silks are so much harder to adjust that way. So I thought we’d wait a bit.”

Jane swallowed. “I—I don’t quite know what to say.”

“After you’re around Minnie a bit more”—Mamie laughed—“you’ll realize it really isn’t required to say much of anything. Minnie’s not one for silence, comfortable or otherwise.”

Minnie glowered at her sister even as she disappeared behind the folding screen in the corner. “I took the privilege of shopping at Herpolsheimers for a few unmentionables. I hope you don’t mind. The fit won’t be perfect.”

Jane reached into her bag and pulled out the envelope the warden had given her. “I’ve enough to reimburse you… and to pay the first six months’ rent.”

“And I’ll let you,” Minnie said, “but not today. I haven’t had time to do the calculations yet.” She motioned toward the dressing screen. “You’ll want to try them on. Although if you’d prefer, there’s a mirror in your apartment. I also took the privilege of putting a few things in the icebox….” As she talked, Minnie was gathering up dresses and unmentionables. Draping them over her arm, she reached in her apron pocket, withdrew a key, and handed it over. “Lead the way, Mrs. Prescott. And welcome home.” She and Mamie followed her out of the shop.

At the top of the stairs, Jane fumbled for a moment before managing to unlock the door. The first thing she noticed was the light. Streaming in the south-facing window, it pooled on the floor in a pattern of small squares.
No bars.
The narrow bed boasted crisp white sheets and a woven coverlet. Minnie moved past and spread her clothing on the bed. Mamie put the picnic basket at the foot of the bed and opened one side. The kitten popped its head out, content to sit and look around for a moment. When Jane reached in to stroke its head, it leaned into her, then shook its head and, peering over the edge of the basket, scrambled out onto the bed. It explored from stem to stern before curling up next to one of the pillows.

Jane smiled. “One of us already feels at home.” When she looked toward the north windows, she took in a quick breath. Past the rocker, past the little table with the lamp sat a small trunk. Crossing to where it sat, she sank to her knees and ran her palm over the marred surface, then looked up at Minnie and Mamie. “Where… how?”

Mamie smiled. “Martin remembered something you’d said to Dr. Zimmer about a trunk. It was his idea. He drove into town yesterday and fetched it.”

“What a nice thing to do.”

“That’s my Martin.”

“Your
Martin?” Minnie nudged her sister. “Somebody’s been holding back.”

“Nonsense,” Mamie said. “You knew I loved the man before I did. How is that holding back?”

While the two sisters bantered, Jane reached into her bag for the key and unlocked the trunk. But she couldn’t bring herself to lift the lid. Not yet, anyway.
I won’t bother you again. You have my word.
Why did Max choose
now
to be so agreeable to what she’d said? And what did it mean that he hadn’t written a note? Blast the man. When she didn’t want to see him, he insisted on visiting. Now… she was free. And he was…
finished.
That was probably it. She was free and, with the returning of the trunk, Max was free, too. He’d met all his obligations, both to his conscience and to her. There was no more need to champion her cause. Thinking on it that way made sense. It also made her sad. How odd to be sitting here looking at a trunk of things she’d feared losing and still feel a sense of loss. What did that mean?

Mamie cleared her throat and said something about needing to talk to Minnie downstairs. Female Department Improvement Committee business, she said. “We’ll just give you a few minutes to settle in, and then, if you’d like, we thought we’d take you to Dinah’s for a nice lunch. It’s just around the corner.”

“Homey atmosphere,” Minnie chimed in. “Lunch rush is likely past. It shouldn’t be too crowded.”

Jane hesitated for a moment before saying yes. This was no time to spin another cocoon. It was time to fly.

The one thing Jane hadn’t expected was that freedom would be exhausting. Emotions rolled in uninvited and without warning. One moment she felt almost euphoric—capable, hopeful, and able to do anything. The next she was sorting through the memories represented by the things in her little trunk, longing for Rose, and wondering how on earth any of that would ever be resolved. And then… there was the topic she understood least. Max Zimmer. He knew she was free. Had he really moved on?

On her second Sunday in Lincoln, Jane woke to the blessed quiet of Sabbath accompanied by church bells. She lingered in bed, petting the cat she’d named Liberty and thinking about Rose. Where did Aunt Flora go to church? Did Rose behave during the services, or was she restless? Did she enjoy the hymns? Thomas had had a rich tenor voice. Had Rose inherited her father’s talent for music?

Even though she and Rose weren’t reunited yet, things were different now. Jane feasted on a combination of memory and anticipation. Tears combined with joy when she went through the little trunk’s contents, remembering. Three cabinet photos portrayed the two of them together. Another showed Rose in her christening gown. Yet another pictured a young Thomas Prescott. Jane held that cabinet photo for a long while, remembering their youthful courtship… their exuberant love… and the passion. She’d kept the program from the literary society meeting where they’d met, looking forward to telling Rose that story one day, knowing it would make Rose laugh to think of a gangly boy trying to look sophisticated, failing… and still winning Jane’s heart.

As Liberty tiptoed through the things spread out on the carpet, Jane fingered one of her monogrammed handkerchiefs and remembered how Thomas had kept it in his coat pocket. A cool breeze wafted in the open windows, and joy began to erase Jane’s tears. The mementos began to symbolize what Mamie called “thankfuls.”
Grace notes.

God had played a symphony of such notes over Jane in recent days and weeks. She had so many things to be thankful for—among them, Minnie’s understanding her not wanting to brave church quite yet. Jane would visit the Ladies Aid quilting first. That was coming up, but this morning she planned to put her teakettle on and finish binding Rose’s quilt.

She’d just opened both north and south windows to capture the breeze, settled into the rocker, and taken up needle and thread, when a knock sounded at the door.

“Jane, are you all right? It’s Max. Max Zimmer.”

How many Max’s did he think she knew in Lincoln?
Feeling self-conscious, Jane reached up to smooth her hair. “I—just a minute.” She didn’t own a wrapper. She got dressed as quickly as she could.
Had something happened to Minnie during the church service?
There was no time to pin her hair up. She answered the door in her bare feet. “What is it? What’s happened?”

“Minnie said you weren’t coming to church again.”

The teakettle sputtered. Stepping back from the door, she hurried to get it off the burner. The rag she grabbed to insulate the handle wasn’t quite adequate to the task. As quickly as she grabbed the kettle off the burner she let go. It landed on the cool side of the stovetop. She dropped the rag and shook her hand.

“Let’s have a look.”

“It’s fine. Just—” She blurted out the question: “What are you doing here?”

“I told you. When you didn’t come to church again, I thought….” He shrugged. “Are you avoiding me?”

“Why would I avoid you? I’m avoiding crowds. That’s all. I’m just not ready.”

“Is that really all? I mean… you aren’t upset with me… that I haven’t… I wouldn’t want you to think I—” He broke off. “I’m babbling. Forgive me. I should go.”

“No,” Jane said abruptly. “Come in. Have tea.” She blocked the door open with Liberty’s basket, then pointed to the rocking chair. “I’m afraid I haven’t acquired furnishings for entertaining, however. Would you mind bringing a chair up from the shop?”

While Max fetched a chair from downstairs, she fumbled her way through making tea, all the while thinking of how frightful she must look with her hair going every which way. As to the apartment, the things from the trunk were still scattered on the rug where she’d sat this morning going through them again. And Rose’s quilt lay where she’d left it when he knocked at the door.
It looks like a train drove through an hour ago.
She hurried to gather things up and return them to the trunk.

Max came back upstairs and settled a straight-backed chair on the braided rug by the windows. Jane served him tea, feeling self-conscious. “I’m so sorry for… the mess. I wasn’t exactly expecting a caller.”

He grinned. “I’m the one who should apologize. It’s unconscionable to barge in on a lady the way I just have. You’d be well within your rights to send me packing.”

“And I will—as soon as you tell me about your moving here and the clinic.”

He nodded. “Agreed. But first… you.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything. Anything. Whatever you want to tell me.”

Liberty jumped up into her lap. As she stroked the cat’s silken fur, she related the first few days cleaning the back room—and how Minnie, who’d forbidden Liberty from entering “the shop,” had violated her own rule and installed a basket in the front window because, she said, having a “shop cat” got ladies to talking about Manerva.