Lanterns and Lace

Chapter 6

Jenny’s first impression of Piney Woods Church and the two-story parsonage beside it was of picturesque serenity. The church fairly glistened with white paint, and an equally sparkling picket fence separated the building and the house. Vines of deep red roses wound their way through the back portion of the fence, while bushes of yellow and white lantana cuddled against the side of the parsonage.

Directly behind the church, under a towering grove of pine trees, a narrow path led to Piney Woods Cemetery. Grant’s wagon made its way past dense undergrowth, carrying Jenny and Rebecca to an open meadow of marked and unmarked graves. A few sites hosted large tombstones, richly engraved with eloquent epitaphs, but most graves held simple wooden crosses or modest headstones carved with only a brevity of words. Friends and family members of the deceased obviously added fresh flowers to the graves and kept the area neat and free from weeds.

Jenny smelled the fresh grass and the faint scent of wildflowers. If she’d felt more comfortable with Grant, she’d have asked him to point out the source. As it was, she chose to ride in silence, attempting without success to rid her mind of the prospect of viewing Jessica’s grave.

Grant followed a well-worn trail, pulling the horse to a halt where it could graze. Stepping down from the wagon, he first lifted Rebecca from Jenny’s lap. She carried a single rose with the stem wrapped in a cloth to protect her little hands from thorns. He then offered Jenny his hand. His smile sent a strange chill through her, and she instantly turned her attention to the cemetery. Perplexed, she wondered what it was about the man that caused her to feel so unsure of herself.

“I’m glad we came this morning before it gets too warm,” Grant said, shading his eyes from the bright sun. “Rebecca and I are used to the climbing temperatures, but I’m sure you feel differently.”

“I won’t ever become accustomed to this heat.” She wished she’d brought a fan.

He chuckled. “While studying medicine in Boston, I couldn’t tolerate the cold. The other students constantly teased me about it—and my Southern drawl. But by the time I graduated, I’d settled in just fine to the cooler climate.”

“I don’t imagine I’ll be here long enough to accomplish that.” She glanced down at Rebecca and quickly back at him. A twinge of guilt laced her words. This was becoming much too difficult.

Grant pointed to the right of them. “Over there is Jessica’s grave.”

Jenny’s attention followed his gesture. She felt strangely solemn, uncertain, and afraid of her emotions. Over the years, she’d built a wall between herself and Jessica. Apathy seemed the safest, most secure stand, especially when she saw how her older sister’s open rebellion affected their parents. She didn’t hate Jessica, but she didn’t think she loved her either. Most of her sentiments were based on utter contempt for her sister’s behavior. She honestly didn’t know what she felt anymore. Certainly nothing in the past had prepared her for this moment.

“Would you like to visit her grave by yourself, or would you like us to accompany you?” Grant’s voice sounded tender and soothing, as though he sensed her turmoil.

“I’d like for you and Rebecca to go with me.” His startling sea green eyes searched her face and unnerved her. “Oh my, I didn’t bring flowers. And I saw Rebecca with a rose.”

“We can bring them another time.”

“Flowers for Mama?” Rebecca tugged on Grant’s pant leg.

“Yes, sweetheart. Miss Jenny is your mama’s sister.” He glanced up at Jenny. “What would you like Rebecca to call you?”

Jenny’s heart raced. “Is Aunt Jenny appropriate?”

“I think it’s perfect.” He turned his attention back to his daughter. “Would you like to show Aunt Jenny your mama’s resting place?”

The title of “Aunt Jenny” brought all the uncertainty to the surface. Jenny wrestled with the awkwardness of the moment and believed she’d won. Mother and Father would be proud of her control. Rebecca ran toward a secluded spot. In her eagerness, she tripped and fell headfirst into a clump of grass. Before Grant could rescue her, she jumped up, brushed herself off, and hurried in the direction again.

“Becca fine,” she called to them, inciting a hearty laugh from Grant and a genuine smile from Jenny.

They strolled on slowly, and for that bit more of precious time, Jenny inwardly thanked him. “What was it like in the beginning with a tiny baby and your practice?”

“The hardest thing I’d ever attempted. The first night of feeding Rebecca every three hours opened my eyes to motherhood. Two ladies in town with new babies were a pure blessing, but I insisted on doing my part.” He laughed. “I can be real stubborn, so it took a few sleepless nights to convince me I needed help. Actually, it took two weeks before I knocked on my mother’s door. Even then, it was because of something she’d done instead of what Rebecca needed.”

“What did she do?”

“She’d stopped by my home and stolen the mountains of soiled clothes. I was angrier than a riled up hornet.”

“Where does she live?”

He pointed back from where they came. “At the parsonage. She’s married to the reverend. After my initial cry for help, it was easier to call on my sister and sister-in-law for advice. Mind you, my medical practice continued on.”

Jenny tried to form a mental picture of an exhausted Grant carrying a small bundle into his office. “Reality can be overwhelming,” she said.

“I agree. I had no idea how to take care of Rebecca properly and tend to my medical practice. All my fancy university training didn’t equip me for motherhood. And my own personal war with perfectionism didn’t help. Rebecca was a good baby, but she did inform me of her needs through an excellent set of lungs.”

Guilt washed over her. In Grant’s shoes, she’d have failed miserably. “I admire what you did—have done.” She started to add a comment about her taking over, but the memory of his anger the day before stopped her. “Grant, did any . . . did the father ever come forth?”

He hesitated, and she glanced up at him. “No.”

How insensitive for her to ask such a personal question. Jessica probably had no idea who the father was. “When did Mimi join you?”

“When Rebecca was three months old. Mimi’s a widow, and she just seemed to show up every morning. Later I found out that my mother had encouraged her. Before long, I realized I couldn’t get along without Mimi. I bought a larger home, and she moved in.”

“I’m glad it worked out well for you,” she said. The words sounded hollow, an afterthought to the sacrifices he had made for Jessica’s daughter.

“Here we are.” He stopped beside a grass-covered plot.

Jenny hadn’t been conscious of where they’d been walking. She’d been too engrossed in their conversation. Suddenly, remembrances of two small sisters at play overcame her. In all of her preconceived ideas of what she’d experience when standing by Jessica’s grave, none had alluded to the immense grief and tears. She bent to touch the withered roses lying in front of the headstone. Rebecca’s contribution glistened in the sunlight as though it had been dew-kissed. Through blurry vision, she read the marker:

Jessica Martin

Died January 10, 1893

An angel at the feet of Jesus

Her fingers trembled as she traced her sister’s name and the date of her death with a gloved finger.

“I didn’t know her birthday or middle name.” Grant kneeled beside her. “A friend of hers didn’t know, either.”

“It’s January 22, 1870, and her middle name was Kathryn.” Jenny lightly brushed the wetness from her cheeks. “Did you put the stone here?” She choked back a sob. “Yes, of course you did.” When he failed to respond, a sense of wonder and bewilderment for this man arose in her. An enigma. A part of her wanted to understand him. Another part was afraid of him. “Why?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Aunt Jenny cry?” Rebecca stared up at her father.

“Yes, sweetheart,” Grant said. “Aunt Jenny loved your mama.”

“Me, too,” Rebecca said. “And Jesus.”

Have I really loved Jessica all these years when I believed I despised her?

“Jesus takes care of Mama in heben.” Rebecca reached out and cradled Jenny’s face in her hands. With a tilt of her head, she kissed Jenny’s cheek. “Dat’s a kiss from Mama.”

The tears were harder to stop. This precious, beautiful child was a part of Jessica, and her views of Jesus and heaven sounded real—believable. Father would forbid a mention of deity. He’d insist Rebecca find her answers in science, and so would Jenny. She looked deep into Rebecca’s face, as though seeing the child for the very first time. Images of a much younger Jessica danced across her mind. She and Jessica had been little girls the last time they expressed their love for each other. Closing her eyes to block the disturbing reminder, sorrow and regret moved her to uncontrollable weeping. She felt Grant’s arms encircle her shoulders, and a tiny hand patted her back.

“Thank you . . . for everything you did for her,” she managed. “I wish I’d been here to help.” And the strange realization puzzled her.

The unbridled grief was not the way she’d been taught to handle life. How terribly disappointed Mother and Father would be. More than once since coming to Kahlerville, she’d felt their presence criticizing Grant, Rebecca, and their life. Mother and Father seemed so distant, but their values hammered into her very core.

Grant pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and placed it in Jenny’s hand. “You might want to visit with Ellen Smythe. They were good friends. I think the only one your sister had. Jessica’s death changed Ellen’s life.”

“I’d like to talk to her,” Jenny said without thinking through the implications of how Ellen and Jessica became friends. She felt drained, weak, and filled with a deep yearning to make up for the closeness she’d missed with her sister. Reaching out to grasp one of Rebecca’s rose petals, she swallowed hard. “I want to do something other than bring flowers tomorrow. I’m not sure what.”

“Flowers are a beginning. We usually bring some from home or from my mother and Reverend Rainer’s garden.”

Jenny remembered the charming two-story home beside the church. Everything there looked peaceful, as though it depicted something from a book—not particularly real, but a fantasy. She smiled at Rebecca picking wild daises and running to place them on her mother’s grave. The child appeared so happy. If she stole her away from Grant, could Jenny make her equally as content?

“Have you decided to attend church with us?” Grant seated himself on the grass beside her. “We have Sunday dinner at the parsonage every week, and I’d really like for you to join us.”

“I question the logic of accompanying you. I’m not exactly here on a mission of goodwill.”

“You aren’t? Maybe you don’t understand the real reason why you’re here.”

She startled. “Whatever do you mean?”

“God has a purpose for everything. I haven’t any answers for you. But He does.” He captured her gaze with his almond-shaped eyes. “My family is very loving, and you are family. We aren’t without our share of problems, but we support each other.”

She hesitated, deliberating her earlier decision to be agreeable coupled with the sadness and regret over her sister’s untimely death. “Will others be there?”

“My brother and sister with their families.”

She glanced back at the tombstone, the one Grant had erected for her sister. Maybe he was Rebecca’s father. Maybe he had loved Jessica.

“I haven’t said a word about why you’re here,” he said.

Jenny continued to study the grave while indecision raced across her mind. She shouldn’t get herself involved with his family. It would only be difficult later, yet something about Grant moved her to comply with his request—not for selfish gain, but for a deeper need that she didn’t quite understand.

“I’d really be nervous.” She wrung her hands and ignored the doubts that dulled her better judgment. So many questions with so few answers.

“There is no need to be. All of them will make you feel welcome.”

Maybe it was his gentle persuasion or the way he smiled or the sweet kiss from Rebecca. In any event, she ignored her inklings. “All right, I’ll go.”

*****

Saturday night, alone in his office, Grant leaned back in his massive leather chair and listened to the grandfather clock chime midnight. More than just physically tired, he bordered on mental exhaustion. Still, his mind continued to reflect on this morning’s happenings. For the first time, he’d seen Jenny emerge from her shell. Not once did he hear a condescending word or a demeaning tone in her voice. She spoke neither tersely nor with reproach, and most assuredly, she had been pleasant company. Even the spillage of tears at the cemetery seemed surprisingly genuine.

Who is this woman who wants my daughter?

Rebecca adored her. She’d wiggled her way unto Jenny’s lap and reached out to hold her hand. And the kiss. Something Mimi had done for her many times, but he’d never seen Rebecca imitate her. Grant smiled. His little daughter should develop a relationship with Jenny. She was her aunt. He still wondered why Jenny’s parents had not made the trip with her. Wouldn’t they want to see their daughter’s grave and their grandchild, even if Grant had no intentions of turning over their granddaughter to them? Perhaps they were ill. This revelation had not entered his mind before this evening. Failing health could also be a motive for Jenny’s desire to take Rebecca back with her. If this were indeed the case, he’d gladly travel to Ohio so they could spend some time with their granddaughter. Tomorrow he’d ask Jenny about her parents.

Grant wondered why she never mentioned Aubrey Turner. Obviously, Jenny didn’t want it known that she’d traveled with the man. Perhaps that topic was better left alone. After all, Jenny’s personal life had no bearing on his purpose of showing how Rebecca was well cared for and loved.