Stephanie Grace Whitson - [Quilt Chronicles 03] (34 page)

Putting a gloved hand on Emilie’s shoulder, Mother leaned in to point at one of the questions on the notepad. “I’ll be looking forward to reading the colonel’s reply to that one,” she said. “Assuming it survives Mr. Obrist’s editorial pen.”

Emilie swallowed.
Have you witnessed a reunion between a parent and child that you’d want to share with readers?
She could feel her cheeks coloring with embarrassment. Father must have told her about E. J. Starr. The questions was, how long had Mother known? And what was she thinking?

“Carl Obrist?” Aunt Cornelia asked. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“Come now, sister,” Mother said with a laugh. “Surely you knew. E. J. Starr of
Journal
fame is none other than our own Emilie Jane.”

“She is?” Aunt Cornelia stared at Emilie. “You are?”

Emilie nodded. She dared a glance at Mother, whose smile had taken on a somewhat frozen look. Finally, Mother spoke to the colonel. “Well, it’s a happy coincidence to run into you here, Colonel Barton. Your address on the Fourth was quite inspiring.” She managed a bit more small talk—even a joke about her and Aunt Cornelia stealing away to the hotel dining room for a respite from “camping”—before excusing the two of them and taking a table on the far side of the dining room, next to the large windows where they could look out on the street.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Colonel Barton sat back down. “I am so sorry, Miss Rhodes. I assumed your entire family knew about E. J. Starr.”

Emilie just shook her head. “It’s all right. Everyone did know—except for Mother and Aunt Cornelia. I should have spoken with them about it long before now.” Her voice trembled. She bit back tears. Shook her head. The waiter approached and settled bowls of soup in place before them.

“I don’t imagine you’re very much in the mood for lunch at the moment,” the colonel said.

Emilie sighed. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. I just”—she glanced over at the notepad lying on the table beside her—“I just want to write.”

For a moment, the colonel said nothing. When he did speak, his voice was gentle. “If you’ll allow me to comment?”

Emilie nodded.

“A long time ago, I made a choice that ended up hurting someone I loved very much. But I waited until it was too late to make amends. God has been gracious to me in recent days. I’ve been given a second chance to make things right with my sister, and for that I am most grateful. But if I had it to do over again—”

“You wouldn’t have done it.” Emilie finished his sentence for him, and as she said the words, her heart sank.

The colonel shook his head. “No. I felt strongly that I was meant to join the army. I would still have done so. But I would have done it in a way that was kinder to Grace. A way that took her feelings into consideration.”

Emilie told the colonel about how she’d revealed E. J. Starr’s identity to Father. “I didn’t want him to discover it on his own.” She glanced over to where Mother and Aunt Cornelia were sitting. Mother had her back to Emilie. “I should have done something similar with Mother. And I really did intend to. But so much has happened in the last few days—”

“Including a young man named Noah Shaw?”

Emilie nodded. “That may be a reason I was distracted, but it still isn’t a proper excuse. Mother deserves better. And now it’s too late.” She shook her head. “One of the things Noah loves most about—us—is our strong family ties.” She swallowed. “He misses his mother so much. He told me all about her. It makes me feel even more ashamed about what just happened.” Once again, she glanced over at the table where Mother and Aunt Cornelia were sitting.

“You need to speak with her,” the colonel said. “And sooner, rather than later.”

“I wouldn’t know what to say.”

“‘I’m sorry’ is as good a beginning as any.” The colonel nodded at the notepad. “If you’ll trust me with those questions, I’ll write out the answers, and you can pick them up later today.” He anticipated Emilie’s next comment. “And have no fear—I can keep your young man busy until you come to fetch him.” He smiled. “The apple dumplings will keep, too.”

Again, Emilie looked over her shoulder. Aunt Cornelia was saying something—with great energy. She glanced Emilie’s way, not exactly glaring, but she didn’t smile, either. Emilie put one gloved palm to her midsection and tried to take a deep breath, hoping the effort would force her stomach to stop churning.

“If you can manage it,” the colonel said, “a little something would do you good.”

Emilie forced herself to swallow a spoonful of soup. She took a bite of bread. Washed it down with tea. Another spoonful of soup, and the colonel leaned over and said quietly, “They are leaving.” He reached for the pad of paper. “I shall look forward to seeing you later today. And Godspeed, Miss Rhodes.”

Emilie caught up with Mother and Aunt Cornelia in the hotel lobby. “Mother, Aunt Cornelia—I—”

Mother held up a hand to silence her, just as Mrs. Penner entered the lobby, exclaiming over the unbearable heat and dabbing at her perspiring face with a lace-edged handkerchief. “There you are, I’m sorry I’m late. I suppose you’ve eaten. The girls just had to make an extra stop at the dressmaker’s.” She glanced over at Emilie. “Oh, hello, dear. I didn’t know you were joining us.” She made a show of looking about. “Where is that nice young man? I declare, one would think the two of you are courting. I don’t think I’ve seen one of you but that the other was nearby.” She paused. “The girls were so disappointed not to find you on the Fourth. They really had their hearts set on seeing the river parade with everyone together. Wasn’t it lovely? I hope you and Mr. Shaw didn’t miss it.”

“Now, Hazel,” Mother said, “of course we all saw the river parade. Emilie was just telling me her favorite. And Cornelia and I agreed. Why, the Greens outdid themselves. That gazebo poised right in the center of that barge. It was as if a garden were floating down the Blue.”

Emilie stared in amazement as Mother deftly managed to divert Mrs. Penner’s attention and then literally led her out the door with the promise that they would all have to luncheon again soon. “As soon as we’ve all recovered from the assembly,” Mother said as she led the way around the corner and toward the place where she’d hitched the buggy in front of one of three millinery shops.

To her credit, Mrs. Penner finally got the message that Mother was in no mood for a gossip session. As soon as they were out of earshot, Mother looked over at Emilie and almost snapped, “Don’t you have an interview to finish?”

“Colonel Barton took the list of questions. He’s going to write out the answers for me. I can retrieve them later this afternoon.”

“And will you have time to meet your deadline?”

Emilie nodded. “I wanted to—I’m sorry, Mother.”

“Well, I should say you should be,” Aunt Cornelia blurted out. “As if our families don’t have enough trouble in the wind, what with April’s broken engagement. We’re certain to be the talk of the town. And now this. My brother-in-law’s own daughter, writing for the other newspaper. How could you, Emilie Jane?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

Aunt Cornelia sniffed. “You failed.”

“Really, Sister,” Mother said, and glanced about. “This is not a topic to discuss on a public street.” She untied the reins and climbed up into the driver’s seat. Then she waved at Emilie. “Well. Climb aboard. We’ll continue this at home.”

“At home? But—aren’t you going back out to the grounds?”

Mother shook her head. “Cornelia and I have had quite enough of camping. It’s hot and miserable, and I, for one, can think of nothing I want more than to soak in a cool bath.”

“We’ll go back this evening for the concert,” Aunt Cornelia said.

“But I—” Emilie glanced toward Colonel Barton’s house.

“Yes, yes.” Irritation sounded in Mother’s voice. “You have business to conduct. An interview to finish. A young man to catch up to. I know, I know. And it shall be done. You can ride Royal back in to town and have all the freedom you need to carry on.” She sighed deeply. “But please, Emilie. Let us have a few moments of privacy while we air our differences and—hopefully settle this nonsense once and for all.” She paused. “I really am quite weary of the battle.”

L
adora closed the oven with a sigh. She stared at the door that led into Josiah’s study for a moment before pouring herself a cup of coffee and retreating to the nook where Grace sat, hemming some new kitchen towels. As she settled into the chair opposite Grace, Ladora sighed again. “That poor boy,” she said. “That poor, poor boy.”

Grace nodded.

“Don’t like him being all alone in there, bearing it all alone. That’s not good for a body.”

Grace looked up. Ladora was staring at her. Meaningfully. “I hardly know him,” she said quickly and looked back down at the handwork.

“But you’ve got lots in common,” Ladora said. “You lived the same life.”

Grace sputtered. “Don’t be ridiculous. The stage never welcomed me as it has our tall, handsome friend with the booming voice. It was hard scrabble the entire time for me. Hard scrabble and nothing to show for it in the end but a trunk full of threadbare, outdated ensembles.”

“But—but you saw the world, Grace. Paris and London and Rome and the Blue Danube. Queens and dukes. And glittering parties. Why, now that I think on it, the colonel’s got nothing on you. You could write your own memories down. It would be like taking people on a trip to an enchanted castle.”

Glittering parties, enchanted castles.
If only Ladora knew the truth. Grace took a few more stitches before looking up. “There was another side to some of the parties I attended, Ladora. To some of the places I’ve been. A side that fills me with shame.” She looked away. “Mr. Shaw’s experiences—and his character, I imagine—outshine me and mine as surely as the sun outshines a distant star.”

Ladora’s voice was gentle as she said, “But you came home. You’ve made peace with the colonel. And you’ve helped raise money for missions and helped me bake and clean. Goodness, you worked so hard on the Fourth we had to carry you home because of the heat.”

Grace waved the compliment away. “Being a victim of heat prostration hardly warrants praise. I was sincere in wanting to help, but the fact is I failed miserably, and frightened you and Josiah in the process. And I kept you from enjoying the rest of the day out at the grounds because you had to bring me home.” She paused. “And don’t think I don’t know that you’d rather be out at the grounds today, listening to the Grand Debate, instead of minding me.” Grace slipped the thimble off her finger and set it on the table, then took a drink of water from the glass Ladora had placed before her.

“I can read about the debate in the paper,” Ladora said, fanning herself. “I don’t mind one bit having an excuse to stay home. Fact is I was downright relieved when Miz Spring’s Ida offered to fetch our baking to the dining hall today. It’s been a right busy few days, and I’m content to let Chautauqua wind down without me.” Again she looked toward Josiah’s office. “I just feel so bad for that boy and the new cares that have settled on him.”

Grace shrugged, but the truth was she did feel for poor Noah Shaw. Ladora would not let it rest.

“Maybe you don’t see it, but I do. Some of the cares you carried in that front door with you when you first came here have started to fall away. Oh, I know it’ll take time for everything to sort itself out, but you know I’m right, Grace. You got to know it. And that’s why I’m sayin’ that you’d be a good one to give the boy a kind word. To let him know it’ll be all right. That God ain’t forgot him. Just like He didn’t forget you all those years you was wandering.”

Grace shook her head. “God doesn’t want anything to do with me. And with good reason.” She could feel Ladora staring at her, but she didn’t look up.

“Why, Grace Barton—that’s blasphemy! Why’d you ever say a thing like that? God don’t behave that-a-way. He ain’t like people. He don’t give up on folks. ‘specially not folks that turn a corner like you have.”

She’d turned a corner, all right. From petty theft to grand larceny—from a church of all things. What would simple-minded Ladora Riley say if she knew that? Grace pressed her lips together. But Ladora wasn’t finished.

“Folks ain’t perfect. Not a one of us is. And sometimes when we’ve come to try to walk a new road, we slip a bit. The Baptists even got a name for it. They call it back-slidin’. I don’t know that we Methodists ever named it. Just plain old sinning, I suppose. But we’ve all done it, if we’re honest about it.”

Grace allowed a grunt. “You don’t need to school me on the subject of sin. I know the topic well.”

“Don’t we all? God says ‘be ye holy; for I am holy’ and goodness, who can do that? And ain’t that the point, anyway? We can’t, so Jesus did it for us.” Ladora paused. “Least-ways, that’s how I came to understand it. After a while.”

Ladora glanced toward the room where Noah Shaw sat alone, undoubtedly feeling—what? Who knew what he was feeling? Shaw himself probably didn’t know.

“That boy needs to know that he can carry on,” she murmured. “That if he’ll just keep his face toward heaven, God will carry him—even if he can’t carry himself right now.”