Lanterns and Lace

Chapter 17

The following morning, Reverend Rainer announced Mrs. Lewis’s sudden heart attack. The funeral services were scheduled for the afternoon. When he dismissed the congregation, Grant and Jenny left Piney Woods Church to visit Ellen.

“I’m nervous about seeing Ellen,” Jenny said. “I’m not very confident about what I should say or do. Listening doesn’t seem to be enough, but what else is there?”

Grant wished she understood how God could be her strength, but he could only take comfort in the hope that she’d soon come to know the Lord.

“It’s not so difficult.” He observed her confusion. “I used to think the best way to help a person deal with tragedy was to get them thinking about something else.”

“And it’s not?” she said. “Wouldn’t dwelling on it make her miserable?”

Grant paused for a moment, remembering his own past thoughts about the matter. “For a long time I felt the same way, but the reverend told me it is for ourselves we mourn. Ellen knows Mrs. Lewis is happy and at peace with Jesus. Her tears are for herself and the guilt she wrongly assumes for the despicable way the widow died. She will miss the dear lady and their friendship. They were extremely close.”

Jenny sat quietly, obviously contemplating his words. “You make sense. A month ago my response might have been completely different. My whole perspective on life has changed since I’ve come to Kahlerville.” She shifted on the seat. “I’m afraid I’ll cry with her.”

“Then do so. Ellen won’t be ashamed of her tears. You shouldn’t be, either. Right now she needs a good friend, and I believe you two have enough in common for her to relax and speak her heart.”

She lifted her chin. “All right. I’ll do my best.”

Grant silently struggled with his decision to take her along. Perhaps he should have taken Mimi or his mother. After all, could Jenny really be a solace when she didn’t know the Lord?

At the Kahler home, Ellen greeted them at the door dressed in a simple dark skirt and blouse. Her eyes were red and swollen, but she fared much better than the previous day. “Please come in, and thank you so much for coming.” Her lips quivered, and she took in a breath. “Jenny, you are a dear to take time from your day to stop by. And, Grant, I apologize for yesterday. I didn’t mean to be such a bother.”

“Nonsense, I was glad to help. I trust you slept last night?”

“Oh, yes. I’m ashamed of myself for sleeping so late that I missed church.” Instead of escorting them into the parlor, Ellen pointed toward the kitchen. “We were just putting the food together for after the funeral. People started bringing things yesterday afternoon.” She choked back a sob. “There’s even wedding cake left.”

“Let us help,” Jenny said. “And I’ll be here right after the funeral, too.”

Ellen hugged her, bringing a fresh sprinkling of tears to both of their faces. “You are a jewel, and we won’t refuse the help.”

Frank met them in the hallway. In its narrow depth, he more closely resembled a giant in his Sunday suit, ready for the funeral. The two men shook hands.

Grant removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. “I’m ready to work. Just tell me what to do.”

“Thanks. This town has always been good to me,” Ellen said. “The people reached out and helped me when I had nowhere to go. Their kindness with Mrs. Lewis’s passing is another blessing.”

Grant observed Jenny from the corner of his eye. She appeared poised in every respect except for her reddened eyes. How were proper ladies supposed to conduct themselves in the face of such a tragedy? Did it really matter that she was here and attempting to fit into small town life? But why?

Is she trying to prove to me that she can care for Rebecca better than me?

*****

A week went by, and Grant learned that Ben hadn’t uncovered any clues or suspects in the vandalism. Strangely enough, Ellen reported nothing missing from the house. It served to frighten not only her but also the residents in and around town. Folks were cautious in their daily activities, unable to relax and go about their business. The idea of anyone willfully destroying personal property shocked and alarmed them. Men refused to leave their wives and children alone at night, and women barred their doors in the daytime.

Grant heard rumors of a similar happening in a town about forty miles west of Kahlerville. The authorities didn’t find any clues or suspects there, either.

“Folks sure are jumpy,” Mimi said on Sunday evening after Rebecca had gone to bed.

Grant frowned. “We haven’t seen much violence in a long time. Oh, we have the occasional shooting, but few incidents involving innocent folks since those two outlaws shot it out on Morgan’s ranch years ago. I heard a couple of old men at the general store say the outlaw’s ghost was to blame for Mrs. Lewis’s death. I despise folks speculating on ridiculous tales, so I told them that outlaw was dead and buried. After all, I was there.”

Mimi picked up her sewing basket and one of Rebecca’s petticoats to mend. “When do you think the gossip will end?”

He speculated for a moment. “I think time or catching the culprits, preferably the latter, should stop wagging tongues and settle down folks.”

He wondered if the guilty persons would ever be found. He’d heard enough tall tales to last a lifetime. More presumed cases of heart problems than ever before came through his office. His patients were simply scared.

Concern for Jenny’s safety nudged at Grant’s conscience. He didn’t like the idea of her living alone at the boardinghouse. The owners of the establishment were good people, but it didn’t stop undesirables from renting rooms. His protective nature drew him closer to her, but he kept his distance with his heart. He still maintained his busy schedule and ruled out any thoughts of a romantic involvement. Jenny visited Rebecca daily, and Mimi often encouraged her to stay for meals. Outwardly, nothing changed between the two, but Grant sensed the pains of unapproachable love. What good did denying his feelings do when he desired her company?

*****

Jenny stepped inside Kahler’s General Store, and the musical bell above the door announced her arrival. She searched for Ellen. Her new friend’s sweet smile always reminded her of flowers nodding in the sunshine. There she stood straightening the candy bin. Most likely Grant had been there, for the licorice jar was nearly empty.

“Good morning,” Jenny called. “How is my friend’s first week of marriage?”

“Perfect.” Ellen’s voice fairly sang. “Despite what happened afterward, God has blessed us with so much. I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to ask you some—”

The bell tinkled again, and a matronly woman sashayed in. Dressed in a proper navy blue dress and a plumed hat, she took up the whole store.

“Good morning, Martha,” Ellen said. “How are you?”

“It’s Mrs. DeMott to you,” the woman said. “And I’m not doing well at all.”

“Why is that?” Ellen said.

“I’ve heard rumors.” Mrs. DeMott slid a dark gaze in Jenny’s direction.

“What kind? I recently married. Was that it?”

Mrs. DeMott ran a finger of her glove across the top of the counter. She examined the finger, then sighed deeply. “I understand you and Miss Jenny Martin here are planning to open your own business to rival my establishment.”

Is this the owner of Martha’s brothel? Jenny stopped short of gasping in horror.

Ellen’s eyes widened. “I assure you that we do not have any such intentions.”

“I was told you’d deny it until you stole away my girls.”

Jenny felt as though her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She could neither think of a response to the preposterous claim nor form the words to repudiate it.

Ellen folded her hands at her waist. She appeared calm, with no trace of frustration.

Where is Ellen’s God in all of this? First Mrs. Lewis dies and now this horrible gossip? Jenny waited, her mouth agape.

“Mrs. DeMott,” Ellen said, “I am happily married. I help out my husband’s parents here, and my Frank is starting a lumberyard. I do not have any desire to persuade any of your girls other than to enlighten them to the ways of the Lord and urge them to leave the life of prostitution.”

“And I forbid you to come near my business for any reason.” Mrs. DeMott added a curse word to punctuate her meaning. “I’ve already lost another girl to your preaching. I have the means of destroying you, Ellen.” She shook a gloved finger in her face. “I’d hate to have your Frank’s lumberyard burn to the ground.”

“There is no need to threaten me. Your source of information is wrong.”

Mrs. DeMott swung her attention to Jenny. “True or false, heed my warning. Your sister gave me more trouble than she was worth, and I won’t be duped by a pretty face and a clever word again. Do you understand?”

Jenny struggled with a response. “As . . . as Ellen just told you, we have no such plans.”

Mrs. DeMott’s menacing glare would have caused an outlaw to back away. “I already know all about you from someone who knows you better than anyone in this town.” With those final words, she whirled around and made her way to the door. Her skirts swished, and her backside turned from right to left as though a hundred men gawked with plenty of money in their pockets.

Once she left, the silence seemed to roar in Jenny’s ears. “Where did she get such vile information?”

Ellen crossed her arms over her chest. “Think, Jenny. Who despises us enough to gossip?”

Those two ladies from the wedding reception? “I’m not sure.”

“There are plenty of women in this town who look down on me, but none is capable of such treachery. Normally, Martha is very proper in public, which tells me she is upset.” Ellen paused. “She distinctively said to you, ‘who knows you better than anyone in town.’”

“No one but Grant or . . . Aubrey Turner.” She lifted her gaze to Ellen’s face, clearly clothed in anger. “Do you think he did this?”

“Without a doubt. Grant has no dealings with that woman unless to tend to someone ill. Turner, on the other hand, has already established himself as a man who followed you here from Ohio and shot a man in a card game.”

Jenny’s stomach did the familiar churning. “Why?”

Ellen hesitated to answer. “I don’t know, but I do know where the answers might be.”

“Who should I talk to?”

“Jessica.”

Irritated, Jenny thought this must be a part of Christianity with which she was unfamiliar. “But she’s gone.”

“Remember I said I wanted to talk to you about something? I have Jessica’s journal. She gave it to me when she went into labor. I’ve kept it but not read a word. I would have given it to you sooner, except I wanted to make sure it was the proper thing to do.”

“A journal? She used to write in one faithfully when we were younger.”

Ellen nodded. “She continued. Can you come by on Wednesday morning? I don’t have to work then. I’m worried that Turner may be dangerous, and if he’s mentioned in Jessica’s journal, we may find out more about him. Ben is working on the matter, but he may need specific information . . . information that may be in the journal.”

Jenny took a ragged breath. Fear settled on her—as though an invisible army sought to do her harm. “I’ll be there. Why haven’t you read it?”

“Jessica said for me to keep it until you came looking for her.”

“She said that?” For the first time Jenny realized her sister had known her far better than she ever comprehended. Her throat constricted. Jessica knew she’d come?

Ellen stepped toward her and wrapped her arms around Jenny’s trembling shoulders. “Jessica loved you very much. Forgive me for saying this, but she felt your parents had mistreated you. Jessica believed one day you’d break free of them and come looking for her.” She shrugged. “I thought at the time her thinking was wishful. Our Jessica felt such loneliness—and bitterness for far too many things.” Ellen paused. “Would you do something for me?”

“Of course.”

“Please tell Grant about Martha’s visit. The accusation is a delicate matter, and it may be difficult for you, but he may be able to persuade Ben to work faster. I’ll do the same with Frank.”

“All right. I’ll go this very minute, and if he’s seeing patients, I’ll wait until he’s finished. I don’t want to put an undue burden upon him, but I’ll do what you ask.”

*****

Grant sat across from Jenny beneath the cool shade of his favorite oak at the back of his house. Rebecca had fallen asleep during lunch and rested peacefully not far from them. A breeze picked up a chestnut curl and toyed with it before gently placing it on her forehead. If he could keep her innocence forever, he’d be a happy man. Did all fathers feel this way?

He pulled a black-eyed Susan from his hair where Rebecca had stuck it earlier. How odd he must look to Jenny—the town’s doctor giving in to the whims of a tiny girl.

His gaze rested on Jenny. Ignoring his affection for her seemed to be a constant battle. She’d come to speak to him, and whatever the reason, paleness had taken residence on her face. Had she grown more beautiful since arriving in Kahlerville?

“What’s wrong?” he said. “Do you not feel well?”

She stood. “May we walk a bit?” She glanced at Rebecca. “I didn’t want to say anything upsetting before she napped.”

Grant joined her and they strolled through the green grass. His natural instinct was to question her further, but instead, he waited for her to speak. What if she’d gone ahead and hired a fancy lawyer?

“I visited Ellen at the general store today,” she said. “While we were chatting, a woman came inside, a Mrs. Martha DeMott.”

Grant raised a brow.

“She accused Ellen and me of starting our own—” Jenny’s face changed from near white to rose-red. “A business like hers.”

The thought caused a bubble of mirth in his throat, but he chased it away. “You and Ellen?”

She glanced away. “Yes, and of trying to steal her . . . her workers.”

“She doesn’t know either of you very well, does she?”

“There’s more. We denied the accusation, but Mrs. DeMott insisted that her information was accurate. She told Ellen never to speak to her ladies again. I had no idea that Ellen visits there to persuade them to leave Martha’s employ. Anyway, Mrs. DeMott threatened Ellen. She indicated something could happen to Frank’s lumberyard.”

Fury bubbled through Grant’s veins, hotter than a Texas day in August. “She what? Have you talked to Ben?”

Jenny shook her head. “Not yet. I wanted to talk to you about it first. And Ellen intended to tell Frank.” She hesitated.

“What else?”

“Oh, I’m thinking that bothering you with this is improper.”

“Nonsense. Did Mrs. DeMott give you any idea who told her this?”

“No, but Ellen and I think it might be Aubrey Turner.”

“Any particular reason why?”

Jenny rubbed her gloved palms together. “Mrs. DeMott said the person who told her was someone who knew me better than anyone else in Kahlerville.”

“Aubrey Turner, the scoundrel,” Grant murmured. “I shouldn’t be judging him. However, I do think the man’s capable of spreading gossip. After all a man lays cold in a grave because of him. I don’t know why he’d be set on causing trouble. Could he be so infatuated with you that he’s desperate?”

“I hardly think so.” She shuddered. “I’ve never encouraged him.”

Grant studied the petite young woman beside him. Like the grass beneath their feet swaying in the wind, she trembled. “You’re frightened.”

“A little. And I’m fearful for Ellen.”

“Frank will protect her. Ben’s been looking for a reason to run Turner out of town. I think the time has come for you to live someplace other than the boardinghouse.”

“I’m perfectly fine there.” She raised her chin.

“How can you protect yourself from Turner?”

She lifted her wrist that held her drawstring bag that she never went anywhere without. “I have a revolver in my reticule.”

He stopped dead still in his shoes. “You what?”

She glanced about as though someone might hear. “I have a revolver in my reticule.”

“Is it loaded?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know how to use it?”

“Ellen showed me how to load and fire it. I’ve been practicing.”

“Mercy, Jenny.” If the situation hadn’t been so serious, he’d have burst out laughing. What was it about him and Morgan that caused them to fall for gun totin’ women? “You can’t carry a weapon on you like a piece of armor.”

“Why not? I believe he can be dangerous.”

“This is nearly the twentieth century. Ben’s a good sheriff. Looking out for folks is his job. What if you accidentally shoot yourself?”

“I hadn’t thought of an accident.”

Obviously. “Please give me the gun, and let’s go talk to Ben. He may even have found information to run Turner out of town or arrest him.”

“What about your patients?”

He narrowed his brows. “Would you wait for me?”

She smiled and nodded. “I think I’d like to sit on the blanket with Rebecca. I love watching her sleep.”

Grant should have felt secure, except he wasn’t certain she had abandoned her plan of taking his daughter from him.

“You don’t trust me?” Irritation laced every word.

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you were thinking it.”

“Would you? I mean—” He stepped back and inhaled deeply. “If she were your daughter, would you leave her alone with someone who wanted to take her from you?”

Her eyes widened, reminding him of smoke signals. “Thank you very much, Dr. Andrews. I’ll keep my gun, and I’ll take care of Aubrey Turner and Mrs. DeMott without your assistance.” She stomped away.

“Jenny, wait. Let’s talk about this. Be reasonable.”

She whirled around and nearly fell. “I am being reasonable.”

What a stubborn woman. “I will be at the boardinghouse when I finish with patients.”

“I’m not seeing callers.”

“Fine. Then I’ll go see Ben.”

“I’m on my way there now.”

“You aren’t getting rid of me easily,” he said.

“You . . . you impossible, horrible man. I thought that is what you wanted.”

He paused for a moment to catch his breath. “It isn’t. Not at all.”

“You make absolutely no sense. How ever did you manage your way through medical school?” Jenny flung her words like stones, then turned and stomped toward the house, flinging her arms like Rebecca’s rag doll.

Jenny was right. He made about as much sense when it came to her as he would if he stayed awake all night to see if he snored.