Stephanie Grace Whitson - [Quilt Chronicles 03] (31 page)

“Maybe you should just stay here and let us handle this,” June said.

Emily shook her head. “I’d never be able to act like nothing is wrong if Mother or Aunt Cornelia stop in. Besides that, Noah will completely understand. He’d want me to go to April. Family is very important to him.” She scrawled a note.

Noah stared down at the note Emilie had left with the hotel desk clerk. It would take him twenty minutes to walk out to the Springs’ house. He’d want time to change before catching a horse trolley out to the grounds for this evening’s performance, and he really should be in place fifteen minutes before the evening program was slated to begin. He would need to leave the Springs’ house by early afternoon. Still, he wanted to know how poor April was doing.

She’d been so kind to him that first day, trusting him with Hartwell’s story, almost as if he were already a friend. Poor April.

On the other hand, if Elwood Sutter was the kind of man who would do such a thing in a letter, perhaps she was better off without him. Of course he wouldn’t say such a thing aloud. He’d do exactly what Emily and April’s sisters had done. Stand by.

Poor April.

Noah arrived at the Springs’, red-faced and out of breath, but when he knocked on the door and Emilie opened it and stepped into his arms, he was glad he’d made the effort. When May and June stepped into the hallway from the direction of the formal parlor, he spoke to them. “I don’t mean to intrude.”

Emilie pulled him inside, but she kept her arm about his waist. “I’m so glad you came.”

“It’s no intrusion,” May said.

Junie agreed. “We’re glad you’re here.”

Having May and June echo Emilie’s sweet thoughts warmed his heart. “I know there’s nothing I can do, but I had to see for myself that things were all right before I head out to the Tabernacle. Is there anything you need? Anything I can do?”

April’s voice sounded from the stairs. “Be good to my cousin,” she said. “And if there’s ever a problem between the two of you, don’t be a coward about it.” Her voice wavered. “Be man enough to handle it face-to-face.”

May and June hurried to their sister’s side.

“I have time between here and Long Pine to hunt him down,” Noah said. “If you want it done, I’ll drag him back here and make him face you.”

April actually smiled. “I believe you mean that.”

“I most certainly do,” Noah said. “And your father is going to want to do the same.”

April sighed. She looked down at the garnet ring on her finger. “I’m not nearly as brokenhearted as I should be.” She shrugged. “I might even be a little relieved.” After a moment, she said, “At least he isn’t going to parade around Beatrice with my replacement. He’s staying in Kansas City.” She forced a smile. “There is always something to be thankful for, if we look hard enough. Isn’t that what the Good Book says? Or someone—maybe that was Shakespeare.” She waved them all toward the kitchen. “Let’s have a glass of lemonade.”

Junie spoke up. “Ma had the icebox taken out to the cottage.”

“There’s well water,” April replied as she opened a cupboard and took down a clear glass reamer. In a few minutes, they were all sitting at the kitchen table with glasses of cool lemonade.

April finally delivered her news to her parents and Mr. and Mrs. Rhodes late on Saturday, and Noah had the opportunity to witness the drawing together of a family—Bert Hartwell included—to support April in a way that only strengthened his resolve to do whatever was necessary to earn and keep this exceptional family’s respect and, in time, their affection.

When Noah tried to leave “to give you all privacy,” everyone insisted he stay. By late that evening, he and Hartwell were playing checkers while May strummed on a guitar. Finally, the Spring sisters began to sing—softly, at first, but as time went on and they ventured into Stephen Foster’s songs, Noah noticed that passersby were stopping to listen. Finally, Mrs. Spring and Mrs. Rhodes produced “light refreshments” from the abundance left over from the July 4th bounty, and by the time the moon rose over the grounds, quiet resolve reigned over April’s troubles.

“Your family is wonderful,” Noah said as he walked Emilie back to the Bee Hive beneath a canopy of stars. “The way they’ve all united to support April.”

“That’s what families do,” Emilie said. “They support one another when bad things happen.” She paused. “To tell you the truth, I really think the sense of relief April mentioned at the house will eventually blossom into full-blown joy that she didn’t go through with it. May and I have had our doubts about that engagement ever since it happened.”

“You didn’t like Sutter?”

“I wouldn’t say that. There wasn’t any reason to object to Elwood. It’s just that there wasn’t any reason to be all that impressed with him, either.”

“But why would April have agreed to something she didn’t really want?”

“April’s always been the perfect, conventional daughter—the one who does what’s expected. In a lot of ways, she’s the standard against which the rest of us have been measured.” Emilie paused. “It’s a wonder we don’t all hate her for it. We probably would if she weren’t so resolutely kind.”

“Well, I hope people don’t gossip behind her back about it.”

“I don’t imagine it’ll be too rabid. And even if people do talk a bit, I have no doubt April will be fine. Beneath that gentle, kind exterior, lives a strong woman. If Elwood Sutter knows what’s good for him, he’ll stay clear of Beatrice for a very long time.”

Noah almost felt a bit of pity for the man—first, for losing out on the chance to have April Spring for a wife, and second, for missing out on being part of her family.

The Sunday service that would feature Reverend Talmage wasn’t scheduled to begin until midafternoon, but every bench beneath the Tabernacle roof had been claimed long before lunchtime. In fact, those who attended the morning service stayed put, alternating lunchtimes and breaks to preserve their places.

Just when it was time for Emilie and Noah to take their turn at the dining hall, news filtered through the crowd that lines were unusually long and supplies were running out quickly. Several workers—including Colonel Barton’s sister—had been ordered home when they grew ill from the heat.

Emilie looked toward the cottages. “Let’s raid the icebox over there,” she said. “Dinah will have brought something out—if she was able to get here.” She nodded toward the entrance and the seething mass of pedestrians and carriages, wagons, and buggies that stretched from the entrance and out of sight toward the city.

Bert walked up, mopping his brow. “There are so many people headed this way that they’re actually worried about overstressing the bridge. The Burlington’s bringing in five excursion trains today, and there’s at least five more specials headed this way. It took me nearly an hour to get here.” He smiled over at Junie as he produced a tiny nosegay of wildflowers from the inside pocket of his suit coat.

“Bert Hartwell,” Junie said, blushing.

“Sorry they’re wilted,” he said and settled next to her before waving Emilie and Noah toward the cottages. “Bring us back a drink of water if you don’t mind.”

Emilie led the way to the cottage, only to find that someone had raided the icebox. “Mother will be incensed,” she said as she rifled through a basket sitting atop the icebox. “There’s a bit of tea left, but if we take time to make it…”

“It’s all right,” Noah said. “Let’s just head back. We’ll be all right. Maybe I’ll persuade you to join me for supper at the hotel later this evening.”

“Will the hotel have anything left? It must be bedlam in town.”

Noah grinned. “We can always throw ourselves on Mrs. Riley’s mercy again.”

“Dinah would never forgive me. If the hotel can’t help us, we’ll just head home.”

“I thought you said that Dinah essentially had the ten days of Chautauqua as a holiday—save for bringing a picnic supper out for your parents.”

“She does,” Emilie said. “But just because I
don’t
cook doesn’t mean I
can’t.”

As it turned out, both families ended up back at the Rhodeses’ house late that night, talking over the size of the crowd (thirty thousand), the effect of thousands of voices singing “All Hail the Power of Jesus’ Name,” and the fact that Mrs. Penner had “scooped” everyone when her husband convinced the famous Reverend Talmage to deliver a ten-minute address from the balcony of the Penners’ cottage, under the auspices of enabling a few more people to actually hear what the man had to say.

Later that evening, as the family gathered back at the cottages, Aunt Cornelia produced an issue of
Leslie’s Illustrated
and read Reverend Talmage’s contribution aloud. “‘It is said, if woman is given…opportunities she will occupy places that might be taken by men.’”

“There’s a terrifying thought,” Father said.

Mother nudged him. “Hush, William. You might learn something.”

Father didn’t try to hide his amusement. “I suppose I have Miss Ida Jones and her talk of suffrage and women’s influence to thank for this?”