Lanterns and Lace

Chapter 8

Something was wrong with Jenny. Grant saw the troubled look on her face the moment she turned away from Turner. The man smiled as though engaging her in a delightful conversation. Grant hadn’t gotten to her and Rebecca fast enough before Turner approached them. Had they quarreled? In any event, he wanted his daughter away from both of them.

“I’ll take my daughter.” Grant bent to lift Rebecca up into his arms. “Now you two can talk without any disturbance.”

“She’s not a problem—” Jenny stopped her sentence in midair. “I’d like to join you.” She nodded at Turner and walked alongside Grant.

Fury consumed Grant, and he recognized a mixture of protectiveness and jealousy. “I don’t want my daughter in the middle of your personal affairs,” he whispered.

“What are you talking about?”

“Your traveling companion.”

She paled. “I do not know the man. He approached me on the train when I fell.”

Grant grasped at a need to control his temper. He was in church, in the presence of God, his family, and friends. He sat on a pew with Morgan and Casey and placed Rebecca on his lap. He took a few deep breaths while he sensed Jenny’s gaze on him. “I don’t appreciate lies. Turner told me about your plans to find information about Jessica.”

“And I’m telling you that I never met the man until I fainted a few days ago. But . . .” She hesitated.

“What?” If he didn’t end this conversation, their whispers would arouse attention.

“He says he’s a friend of Jessica’s. Just now he said they’d been engaged.”

Rebecca. Surely Aubrey Turner is not the father. “We’ll talk later.”

“I don’t think so, Dr. Andrews.”

Before Grant had an opportunity to question her further, the introduction to the first hymn of the evening filled the air. An off-key chord struck his bad mood. In the next instant, Jenny left the pew, and he had no desire to chase after her.

*****

Jenny made her way from the church and down the road toward the boardinghouse. She’d not stay another night with the pompous, self-righteous Dr. Andrews. How dare he think she’d traveled with Mr. Turner? And how dare Mr. Turner tell Grant some absurd story about the two searching for information about Jessica.

Why did Mr. Turner make it a point to tell Grant such falsehoods? Alarm swept over her. The strong possibility of Mr. Turner following her from Ohio nearly paralyzed her. Could the man be a Pinkerton agent? Or was he Rebecca’s father and wished to claim her? But that didn’t explain the lies. Unscrupulous described Turner’s tactics, yet he claimed he and Jessica had been engaged.

“Miss Martin, Jenny.”

She recognized the voice, and it did not comfort her trepidation. “Leave me alone, Mr. Turner.”

“You need an escort. It’s not safe or proper for you to be out here alone. Put aside your distrust of me, and let me be a gentleman.”

“It’s not dark, and I’d rather be alone.” Her heart pounded against her chest.

He made his way alongside her. “Can’t we be friends? After all, we came here for the same reason.”

“You have no idea why I’m here, and furthermore, it’s none of your concern.”

He laughed. “You have the same fire that attracted me to Jessica.”

She stopped in the middle of the road and spun toward him. “If you don’t leave me alone this instant, I will scream.”

“No need to take those measures.” He smiled, rather sadly. “Tell me about Jessica’s daughter. How old is she?”

“That is none of your business. I will scream.”

He shook his head. “Please, I’m not an enemy. I understand you don’t know me well, but I do want to be of assistance.”

“No, thank you.”

“We will talk in the future. You can rest assured of that.”

She walked away, leaving him behind. Trembling took over her body, and she feared her legs would not carry her the rest of the way to the boardinghouse. Unless she had misunderstood, Turner had threatened her. Informing the sheriff offered no consolation, for Sheriff Ben Kahler was married to Grant’s sister. And Jenny refused to leave town. This gave her no other choice but to take care of matters herself.

At the boardinghouse she registered with a shaky hand and paid a week in advance to the proprietor, Mr. Harold Snyder. Everything smelled heavily of fried pork, her least favorite of meats. Grant’s home smelled of freshness with open windows and vases of fresh roses.

“How long will you need a room?” Mr. Snyder was a thin fellow with a long, pointed nose.

“I’m not sure,” she said. “May I pay you each week until I make a decision?”

“Very well.” Mr. Snyder seemed pleased. “The second floor is for the ladies. You will be in room four, up the stairs and at the end of the hall. Breakfast is served at seven, dinner at noon, and supper at six.”

She followed the man upstairs. The establishment looked clean, and she heard no noise. Mr. Snyder unlocked a small room that looked a bit shabby in comparison to the charming bedroom at the doctor’s home.

“Thank you, sir,” she said as his long, bony fingers handed her the key. “This will do quite nicely.” Once he left, she raised a window to air out the stale smell tarrying from the previous guest.

She considered the room’s basic furnishings: a single iron bed, an oak washstand complete with a basin and pitcher, a dresser and mirror, a small armoire, and a well-worn chair in a faded gold fabric. A threadbare quilt lay across the bed, and blinds covered the window. But it was clean.

Jenny removed her hat and lay across the bed. Too many things wrestled with her mind. She must consider a new plan to secure Rebecca since the good doctor was not married, as she had originally hoped. Neither did he have a houseful of children and want to give her up. She shouldn’t allow the kindness of the Andrews family or their love for Rebecca to stand in her way. Her niece deserved to be with her own family.

Just as she drifted off to sleep, a knock at the door startled her. “Miss Martin, you have a visitor in the lobby,” Mr. Snyder said.

“Who is it?”

“Doc Andrews.”

Jenny fumed. “I have no need of a physician. Not now or ever. You may give him that message.”

*****

Monday afternoon while Rebecca took her nap, Grant had calmed down enough to take his adoption papers to Morgan for his inspection and then to pay one last call on Jenny. His mother’s words still rang in his ears: You should have gone after her when she left church. But when he whirled around to check on Jenny, Turner had followed her. Grant figured the two deserved each other. Although that wasn’t much of a Christian thought for a man sitting in church, he had to confess to honest feelings. For some reason, Jenny Martin brought out the worst in him.

Maybe he wasn’t a good father at all. Maybe Rebecca needed Jenny as a substitute for a mother. Maybe he was just plain selfish in wanting to keep his little daughter. He clenched his jaw. Maybe he needed to stop doubting himself.

Grant made his way down the street to his brother’s law office. He had Rebecca’s adoption papers in his hand and a heavy weight in his heart. Two people had interrupted his otherwise peaceful life—Jenny Martin and Aubrey Turner. Jenny wanted his daughter, and Turner—well, Grant prayed he was not Rebecca’s father.

Moments later he observed his brother painstakingly examining each document in Rebecca’s adoption file. The only sound came from the steady tick-tock of a mahogany wall clock mounted behind Morgan’s desk. Grant checked the hour, then read for the third time his brother’s law degree hanging on an adjacent wall. His attention moved across the room to the titles of law books stacked precariously on a bookcase beneath the clock.

His patience wavering, Grant studied the lines etched on Morgan’s brow. He appeared so deeply immersed in the papers before him that he failed to acknowledge the pair of eyes scrutinizing him. Grant pulled a pen from inside his jacket and scribbled the name Jenny Martin on a pad of paper before him. Beneath her name, he wrote Rebecca Faith Andrews and her birthday. He drummed the pen on the top of the mahogany desk. His brother glanced up and shook his head.

“Must you always make some sort of noise?” Amusement flashed from Morgan’s eyes.

Grant smiled and ceased the tapping. “Only when impatient, nervous, or biding time.”

“Which is it today?”

“Probably all three.” He capped his pen and dropped it inside his jacket pocket in an attempt to soothe his battered nerves.

His brother peered over the pad of paper. “What is bothering you the most, Jenny Martin or Aubrey Turner?”

“Both.”

“And?”

Grant chuckled despite his restless demeanor. The entire family knew he never revealed personal information unless coaxed and prodded beyond any logical understanding. “I have neglected to tell you a few things about Miss Martin.”

Morgan closed the file and settled back in his brown leather chair. “I’m listening, Grant. I’ll admit the past few days have been a bit unusual, and I’ve wondered why Jessica’s family has waited all this time to seek out their daughter.”

“She wants Rebecca.”

“I wondered about that, but why now?”

“I’ve never gotten a clear answer other than she is the proper guardian and something about her parents grieving over Jessica.”

“Don’t you think you deserve a clear answer?”

“I’m heading over to the boardinghouse right now.”

“Is that why you two quarreled last night at church?”

Grant shook his head. “That had to do with Aubrey Turner.”

“Would you just tell me the whole story? I feel like I’m trying to pry the truth out of a defendant—or worse yet, one of my kids.”

“He and Jenny are traveling companions, although she denies it.”

“And you’re sure about this?”

“He told me.”

Morgan leaned back in his chair. “I see. And you believe him over Jenny?”

Grant hesitated. “I’m so furious with Jenny’s reasons for coming here that I guess I want to believe him.”

“Are you thinking he might be Rebecca’s father?”

“I was until this morning.” Grant hesitated while he sorted out his thoughts. “He admitted never being here before, and Jessica worked at Martha’s a year and a half before she died. There’s no way he could be Rebecca’s father.” He blew out an exasperated sigh. “Unless he lied instead of Jenny. Last night seeing Jenny and Turner together with my daughter in the middle was a little more than I could handle.”

“Don’t blame you.”

Grant pointed at the adoption file. “Are the papers legal and binding?”

“Yes. I did draw them up, remember? The documents were and are according to the laws of the state, and they have all been properly executed. Now, there’s always a chance Miss Martin will hire a lawyer to obtain custody.”

Silence prevailed, deafening silence that prevailed over the incessant ticking of the clock. Grant paused awhile longer before speaking.

“I think if she’d considered a lawyer, she would have mentioned it. The thought has crossed my mind—more than once—that Jenny might elect to snatch her away, especially with the way I made her furious last night.”

“She’d be in bad shape with the law if she attempted that.”

Grant laughed, the first all day. “Guess I needed reassurance. All right, big brother, I’ll head over there now and face the lady.”

“Do you mind if I share any of this with Casey?”

“Go ahead. I need all the prayers I can get.”

“Glad you came by for another reason. I have a request.”

Grant knew what was coming by the glint in his brother’s eye. “Does this have anything to do with branding?”

“Possibly.” A grin spread over Morgan’s face. “We could use you on Saturday. You could stay until Sunday morning. Rebecca loves the ranch.”

Grant laughed. “So this is all for Rebecca?”

“Naturally. And it would give Mimi a break too. Nothing like hard work to cure what ails you.”

“I’m so glad you have other peoples’ interests at heart. All right. We’ll be there.”

The idea of spending a day at the ranch sounded like good medicine. He could sort through the problems with Jenny and Turner, then have a better perspective on Sunday. Perhaps Jenny would attend church and dinner again. If not, he’d ask her the next week.

He startled. How could he want Jenny to leave town and want her to stay at the same time? Had he lost his mind? The woman had been nothing but trouble. She knew nothing about being a Christian, much less acting like one. Still, when she smiled and he saw Rebecca in her, he wanted to get to know her a little more. Suddenly, Grant felt the whole situation with Jenny was nothing more than a minor irritation.

*****

Early that morning Jenny had requested Mr. Snyder send for her trunks at Grant’s home. As she placed her personal belongings in the drawers and the armoire, she realized Mr. Turner had become more of a threat to her plan than Grant. She understood Grant a little better than Mr. Turner. The latter frightened her with his knowledge about Jessica and the fact he must have followed her to Kahlerville.

She shivered in the rising warmth of the day. Her decision last night weighed heavily on her mind. When she finished unpacking, she’d do what was necessary.

Midmorning, Jenny ventured downstairs. Telltale smells from breakfast caused her stomach to rumble, but she needed to tend to her errand first. After obtaining directions from Mr. Snyder and being introduced to his kind wife, Cleo Ann, she stepped out into a day filled with heavy clouds. The scent of rain replaced the aroma of bacon and eggs from the boardinghouse. Maybe the rain would lower the ghastly heat.

Once in front of Kahler’s General Store, she studied the two large display windows. One had women’s goods and the other men’s. Neither window had what she needed. She glanced at the storefront and thought the owner had done a fairly good job, considering the small town. Inside, a bell tinkled, and an assortment of smells met her—coffee, leather, cinnamon, and an herb she didn’t recognize. Any other time, she’d have browsed through the store.

“Can I help you?” A rather round man smiled.

“Yes, sir. I’m looking for a small revolver.”