Beauty From Ashes (50 page)

On the mild morning of March 21 of that year 1860, Pete sat blessedly alone on a train seat, staring out the window at flat stretches of farmland outside Americus, Georgia, on her way at last to Jasper, Florida, for a

face-to-face visit with the Demeres, 675 whose farm was just outside the small town. Leaving had been far easier than she’d dared hope. Mama had not only agreed almost at once that it would be fine for her to go, she had shown near relief at the idea. Was the still-attractive lady, who practically filled Pete’s world, more peaceful down inside than Pete or any of the other children dared believe? She would never stop missing Papa. No one expected that. But slowly, surely, Mama was becoming her buoyant old self, and a calm acceptance had been added, which left her much less nervous, more willing to listen, less burdened by secret, hidden cares. She had even begun to speak of Annie rather freely, and by one action at the Marietta train station before Pete left, Mama proved her new self more clearly than any words could ever have done. She had pulled Pete to one side of the platform and handed her a small, square package for Annie’s boy, Fraser. Pete knew it was the portrait of Annie, which the boy had left with Mama to keep.

Mama had so carefully wrapped the package in tissue paper tied with blue ribbon, Pete

had no notion of opening it, but she knew what it was and fell to remembering her older sister, Annie —far sweeter, far more a peacemaker than Pete would ever be and no one knew that better than Pete. Annie would be overjoyed by the mere thought of Pete’s journey to Florida at Fraser’s urging. How like his mother Fraser Demere was! He’ll be a peacemaker, too, Pete thought, surprised that she hadn’t dwelt on that before now. Hadn’t the boy sent for her to visit in Jasper so that Pete could see for herself what a good person his stepmother really is? Was he depending on his Aunt Pete to take a true picture of Jessie Sinclair Demere back to Marietta? After William’s death, the thought of marriage had never tempted Pete once in all her thirty-four years. Was she harboring even a small longing now for a son of her own exactly like the nephew she’d loved on sight?

She stretched her long legs until her feet were under the seat ahead of her. Not ladylike at all, she mused. Dear Mama would remind me. Well, maybe she just did. I know, despite her coldness when Fraser first arrived in Marietta with John Couper over seven years

ago, that Mama’s heartbreak at 677 Annie’s death was heavier because she was deprived of caring for Annie’s baby. Had Mama needed all this time since Annie’s death to separate the two heartaches in her own mind?

When the train jerked to a stop sometime after dark, the screech of metal against metal roused Pete from what had evidently been a sound sleep. At any rate, it took her some time to realize where she was, and her relief was great when she learned that within an hour they would reach a travelers’ inn, where passengers going farther would board a stage for the final hundred and fifty miles to Jasper.

She grinned to herself as her mind pondered a perfectly useless question: Why, oh why, was the hardest part of a trip at the very end, when bones and muscles were already bruised and battered? She’d grinned, because until this moment, Pete Fraser had never made such a trip in her entire life. She’d only heard about those uncomfortable journeys that ended by stage. Well, she was making one herself now and for the first time felt a little nervous, because with a broken bone in his leg, the chances were that Fraser would be unable to meet her stagecoach.

Would his father, Paul Demere, be there? Or one of Paul’s other sons by Jessie Sinclair? And, outside of Fraser, who had begged her in two letters to come, how welcome would anyone make Pete feel?

Two days later, her body ached all over from the endless jostling miles by stage, but one look at her welcoming party in Jasper almost entirely eased her knotted muscles and her uncertainty about how she might be greeted.

Beside the roofed platform where the stage driver reined his team stood a tall, beaming, curly-haired gentleman—not Paul Demere— waving his hat as he hurried toward her, a smile so warm on his handsome face, Pete had the distinct feeling he already knew who she was.

“Aunt Pete! Aunt Pete!” The excited, cheerful voice came from a somewhat battered carriage reined near the stage stop. It was Fraser, a grown young man now, also waving and grinning from ear to ear.

“You must be my patient’s beloved aunt,” the gentleman said as he hurried to where Pete stood. “Fraser’s leg is mending nicely, but

somehow I’m sure, as his doctor, that with 679 you here at last, he’ll be able to throw away his crutch in no time. Miss Pete Fraser?”

His manner was so warm and welcoming, Pete had to laugh. “Indeed I am, sir, and no one was ever happier to have reached her destination!”

Bowing, the gentleman said, “I’m Dr. Samuel Smith and—and”—he gestured toward the carriage—“my friend John Fraser Demere and I welcome you wholeheartedly to Florida. Why not go to the carriage so my patient can greet you properly while I collect your luggage.”

“Fraser,” Pete called, “don’t try to stand up in that carriage! I’m coming, I’m coming. One broken bone in your poor leg is enough.”

But by the time she reached the carriage, the young man had scrambled to the ground with his one crutch and was embracing her as though he’d been waiting a lifetime to see her again.

“Isn’t Dr. Sam a fine fellow! I don’t know what I’d have done without him. He doesn’t have too many patients in these parts so he’s given me lots of careful attention, and look, I can almost walk without a limp. He took off the splints nearly two weeks ago.

I hope everyone is fine at your house in Marietta. John Couper wrote to me last week with the good news that the family’s doing well. You—you’re a dear to spoil me like this, Aunt Pete. All of us here are awfully glad you came.”

“Well, that was quite a welcoming speech. You’re talking more since you’ve grown up. Do you know who you remind me of? My own father!”

“I’m named for him.”

“I know, and I brought something for you. Here.”

She hadn’t dared trust the cherished portrait of Annie to the top of the stage roof luggage rack and was still holding the carefully wrapped picture Mama had handed her for Fraser the day she left Marietta.

He took it eagerly. “What on earth could this be?”

“A present from your Grandmother Anne.”

“And you carried it by hand over all that long train and stage ride?”

“When you open it, you’ll understand why I did.”

Fraser’s sun-browned fingers were feeling the shape of the ribbon-tied package, and then he looked at Pete quizzically. “Grandmama

Anne sent my mother’s portrait back 681 to me, didn’t she?”

“I’m not absolutely sure, but I think so, Fraser. And that just could mean far more than either you or I think right now.”

“Would it be all right if I show my mother’s portrait to Dr. Sam when he brings your luggage from the stage?”

“That’s for you to decide, but I don’t see why not. The man certainly seems to be fond of you. I’d think he’d be really interested to know what Annie looked like.” She grinned at him. “Like you, actually. You both have the same pale, pale blue eyes. And you’re a peacemaker like her, too.”

“How do you know I’m a peacemaker, Aunt Pete?”

“You talked me into visiting here, didn’t you?” Before Dr. Sam’s long strides brought him all the way to the carriage, Pete whispered, “And I want you to be sure I’m wide-open to the idea of liking your stepmother Jessie.”

“I know that. I know I can always count on you.”

“And how do you know?”

“It’s just something I’ve always known about you and

me.” With a big smile on his face, he called to Dr. Sam, “See? I told you my aunt wouldn’t have the typical woman’s pile of valises and boxes.”

Swinging one medium-sized valise and two hatboxes up onto the carriage rack, Dr. Sam agreed. “The truth is, Fraser my man, I see nothing typical about your aunt. The amazing thing is that this confirmed bachelor is already at her feet. And feeling it’s the place he’d most want to be.” He turned to Pete, who had already climbed nimbly into the carriage. “Look at that, Fraser! Any other woman in the world would still be standing impatiently waiting for some gentleman to help her up the carriage steps.”

Pete laughed. “Sorry, Doctor. I’m just not accustomed to having a gentleman nearby to help me.” With that, she reached her hand down to give Fraser a boost up into the carriage.

Beaming proudly at Dr. Sam Smith, the young man said, “You see? My aunt helps gentlemen and she’s good at it.”

For a brief moment Sam Smith stood at the foot of the carriage steps, looking straight at Pete. Then, quite solemnly, he said, “I see

she is. And I fully plan 683 to remember that—always.” With a quick smile, he lightened his voice. “That is, if the lady has no objection.”

“The way you’ve helped me, I can guarantee she has none. Have you, Aunt Pete?”

“Not so fast, young man. Somehow I sense this conversation is running along on two tracks, and I’m not accustomed to that, either.”

“Aunt Pete’s different from other women, too, because she always says exactly what she thinks, Dr. Sam. You’ll never catch her hedging behind pretty speeches the way other women sometimes do.”

“And what I think right now,” Pete said, “is that we’d better head toward the Demeres’ place. I have no intention of pretending I’m not starved. I am!”

Tall, angular Jessie Demere, Pete decided as Fraser’s stepmother met her with open arms on the wide front porch of their frame farmhouse a few miles from Jasper,

Florida, was not plain, nor was she mystically lovely as Pete’s sister Annie had been. Paul Demere, still clean-cut, slender, and charming, had obviously recognized both his and the infant Fraser’s need for a woman in the house. If the obedient, sweet-tempered, gentle Fraser was any true sign, Jessie Sinclair Demere was certainly an outstanding mother. Paul had come for Fraser while the boy was still a baby. He had broken Mama’s heart by taking him away, but that he’d placed the child in the care of a fine, intelligent woman Pete had no doubt.

Pete watched Jessie closely as she supervised Alma, the rangy young colored woman who served their delicious first meal, and she couldn’t help marveling at Jessie’s naturalness and skill with servants. Skinny, dark Alma, who had prepared as well as served the succulent roast chicken dinner, was as contented in her work as a slave could hope to be, Pete decided, not showing the smile at her own frank admission to herself that by now she almost matched Mama’s friend Louisa Fletcher in her dislike of slavery. Pete had grown up among slaves, but she could no longer take their docility or their

seemingly easy laughter at face 685 value.

Seated at the dining-room table were four of the six children born to Paul and Jessie Demere. In addition to the youngest, Francis, being fed by his nurse, there were Sinclair, who, according to Fraser, was sixteen, and Paul, probably fourteen, and their one, talkative sister, Pauline, about seven. The other two boys were visiting playmates that day on a nearby farm.

“Our neighbors have a fair-sized creek,” Sinclair said, “and Clarence and William would rather have a hook in the water than eat their catch.” Paul made a grown-up, condescending face. “That is, when my brothers can get a catch.”

“I can fish, too,” Pauline chirped. “Can you fish, strange lady?”

“Miss Pete isn’t a strange lady, Pauline,” Jessie said easily. “She’s your half brother Fraser’s very own aunt.”

“How?” Pauline wanted to know. “She isn’t my half aunt, so how can she be Fraser’s aunt?”

“Never mind,” her father said in his firm but gentle way. “When you’re old enough, you’ll be

able to get it all straight.”

With an exaggerated sigh, the inquisitive seven-year-old said, “You sure have to wait forever to be old enough for anything. Are you married, lady? And how come you have such red hair?”

“No, Pauline,” Pete said. “I’m not married and I guess I got my red hair from my grandfather, John Couper, who lived on St. Simons Island up in Georgia.”

“People who live in Florida don’t think much of Georgia,” Pauline said, stuffing her mouth with chicken. “I wish Dr. Sam Smith had come for dinner when he brought you in Papa’s carriage. Why didn’t he come, too? Don’t you like him? We all like him.”

“Pauline, dear, you mustn’t be so nosy,” Jessie said.

“Yes, little Sister, and anyway, Aunt Pete just met Dr. Sam at the stagecoach stop. She doesn’t really know him as well as we do yet,” Fraser said easily. “Isn’t that right, Aunt Pete?”

“Yes, it’s right, but I already know I like the doctor a lot. And I certainly understand why Pauline wishes he’d come for dinner.”

“I thought Pete was a boy’s name,” 687 Pauline said. “I never heard of an Aunt Pete in my whole seven years!”

“That’s enough, Pauline,” Paul Demere said, looking at Pete with a sly grin. “My son Fraser told me what your mother did, Pete. I’m quite touched by her generosity.” Then Paul explained to his wife, “I gave the only portrait of his mother to Fraser a few years ago, and proving his heart as generous as Annie’s, he gave it to Annie’s mother, Mrs. Fraser, when he was in Marietta some time ago.”

“Mama cherished it,” Pete said, “but she wanted Fraser to have it as his very own.”

“I don’t see why Dr. Sam didn’t come for dinner.” Pauline pursued what was evidently her main concern. “I know he must have been hungry. Even if he doesn’t have very many patients, he works hard for the ones he does have, and he told me once when he and I were having a picnic out under the sycamore tree that he was never as happy as when he had one of Mama’s chicken dinners and a bottle of wine to wash it down.”

“I guess I neglected to warn you how much

Pauline likes to talk,” Fraser said to Pete. “You’ll just have to excuse her.”

“I don’t think she needs to be excused,” Pete said. “How does a little girl learn if she asks no questions? And I think she has every right to know that her good friend Dr. Sam will be back after a while.”

“Dr. Sam’s coming back to see us today?” Pauline all but yelled her delight.