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

It wasn’t until late in July that Juliana began to fully appreciate the enormity of the responsibilities the women had taken on themselves by agreeing to accept her donation. Prior to the bazaar, it had been all excitement and anticipation. Now the real work began. It took three meetings to agree on the “Rules Governing the Matron & Committees of the Friendship Home of Lincoln, Nebraska.”

Once the basic organization was laid out, Helen Duncan and two other committee members traveled to Omaha to interview a superintendent of a Home for the Friendless there. They returned with a combination of good news and horror stories that alternately encouraged and intimidated the committee.

“We need far more staff than we anticipated,” Helen said. “Once we gather the current residents into one place, we’ll have more than two dozen in our care, and we know the number will grow quickly. We must prepare for that. The suggested list includes a matron, a physician, a teacher, three nurses, a cook, a laundress, a couple of general assistants, and a combination gardener/engineer. All those salaries add up to $255 a month.” She nodded in Juliana’s direction. “Thanks to Mr. Carter of First National, we are in a good financial position to support the first year, but I cannot stress enough that we must get the legislature to help us.” She paused. “We’ll table that for now, but please be thinking how we can impress the need on our state senators.”

Lutie Gleason spoke up. “I propose we take the half-dozen babies into the chamber when it’s in session. Preferably right before feeding time.”

Helen laughed. “Let’s remember that idea if more conventional means don’t succeed.”

When Aunt Theodora asked which staff member should be hired first, everyone seemed to agree that the matron was the most critical. According to the organizational rules the society had drafted, the matron was to “have full control of the family and household officers.” That meant she would keep a record of all admissions and discharges and maintain individual files on each inmate. She would present a written monthly report “of important items of family interest.”

Juliana suppressed a smile when Aunt Theodora said that it seemed to her they were looking for a living replica of Mary, the mother of Christ.

“Not quite,” Helen said quietly. “We
are
willing to pay twenty-five dollars a month. The mother of our Lord would do a wonderful job without expecting a salary.”

Someone mentioned Mrs. Crutchfield, currently in charge of one of the homes in town.

“Absolutely not,” Helen said. She looked around the table and softened her tone. “I’ve stopped in a few times recently. The care is adequate, but we need someone more … patient. Warmhearted. The young women we will be helping need someone who can be firm, but they also need a friend and companion. That is not Mrs. Crutchfield.”

They would also need more volunteers. A Placement Committee to oversee the process of finding homes for orphans, a Purchasing Committee to handle ordering supplies, and a Visiting Committee, “just to keep a friendly eye on things.”

“They should arrive unannounced,” Aunt Theodora said. “That will keep the staff on their toes.”

“Are you volunteering?” Helen asked.

“You’d be wonderful at it,” Aunt Lydia said. “Everyone in this room is frightened half to death of you.”

“As it should be,” Aunt Theodora said. She tried to maintain a stern face but couldn’t quite manage it.

Finally, at the beginning of August, Helen brought a typewritten “Rules of Admission and Discharge.”

Aunt Theodora peered at her copy as if it might sprout wings. “Typewriter?”

“It isn’t French, Sister,” Aunt Lydia said. “It’s the future.”

The older woman sighed. “I see reference to the ‘rules of the home.’” She peered over her spectacles. “What, pray tell, are those?”

Helen looked around the table. “Whatever we decide. Would someone care to volunteer to draft a list?”

“I don’t suppose ‘be good’ is considered adequate?” Aunt Theodora said.

“If only it could be.” Helen laughed. “Do I hear a motion to table that until the next meeting?”

“I’d rather make a motion that Miss Theodora be requested to draft something for us,” Lutie Gleason said, glancing at Aunt Theodora. “You are so good with words.”

When the motion was seconded and carried, Aunt Theodora promised to have “a few good words” as to rules of conduct prepared by the next meeting at the end of the month.

Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep.
R
OMANS
12:15

Jenny
Thursday, July 26

O
n a blistering hot day in late July, when the shadow of Mrs. Crutchfield’s house finally reached the well pump in the backyard, Jenny dragged a galvanized tub out of a shed and wore herself out pumping water into the tub. When it was half full, she talked one of the new residents into helping her carry the four babies downstairs. Jenny stripped them all down and removed their diapers and, one at a time, lowered them into the cold water. They shrieked with the shock at first, but it wasn’t long before all four children realized how much better they felt and began to enjoy splashing the cool water on each other.

Jenny settled in the grass beside them and, dampening a clean rag, folded it and draped it across the back of her neck, closing her eyes with pleasure as cold water dripped down her back.

The nausea she’d been battling all day faded. She’d just reached for the dipper hanging on the pump head to get a drink when Mrs. Duncan came walking around the side of the house.

“You don’t need to say a word,” Jenny said. “I already see what happened. Thank you for trying.” She hung the dipper back up. “I told you he wouldn’t change his mind.”

Helen reached in her bag. “Is Johnny teething yet?” She held out a rubber teething ring.

“He hasn’t been sleeping well. You think that’s it?”

“Could be. Has Dr. Gilbert been by this week?”

Jenny shook her head and reached over to tousle Huldah’s blond hair.

“She’s learned to trust you,” Helen said. “She was still hiding under the bed when I was here last.”

Jenny smiled. “She’s better.”

“I’m not giving up, Jenny. He’ll change his mind.”

She shook her head. “Even if he did, he’d be sorry.”

“He wouldn’t,” Helen said. “Johnny’s a lovely child, and you’re a sweet girl.” She came closer and bent down, smiling. “I’m going to bring him and the others some new clothes later in the week. Would you like a new dress?”

Jenny shook her head. “I’m all right.”

“You’ll like it at the new place. The construction is going along. It’s out in the country, and there will be a new staff.” She glanced back at the house and lowered her voice. “No more Mrs. Crutchfield. Better food. And the nursery! An entire floor for the babies. Plenty of room for them to crawl about and play. We’re going to have a toy drive. It’ll be so much nicer.”

“It sounds like it,” Jenny said, more because Mrs. Duncan seemed to need to hear it than anything. “When will you move people in?”

“Just after Thanksgiving.” Mrs. Duncan smiled. “Johnny will be walking by then. Can you imagine?” She paused. “I don’t want to upset you, but we’ve had someone apply to adopt a little girl. They’ll be coming by in a few days to see Huldah.”

Jenny blinked back tears. She nodded. “That’s good. As long as they’ll be good to her.”

“We’ll appoint someone to make unannounced home visits for the first six months, and if there’s any question, we won’t let her stay.”

Jenny nodded. That night, when the babies were asleep, she crept downstairs to the kitchen where Mrs. Crutchfield kept her almanac. She had to check the newspaper to see what today’s date was, but once she’d done that, she counted back to two days before Sterling died. Then she counted forward.

This one would be a Christmas baby.

“Of course you must go,” Juliana said firmly. She laid the newspaper aside and looked across the breakfast table at the aunts. “You’ve spent August at the summer house for nearly ten years. I won’t hear of you canceling your plans.”

“We can’t leave you alone. Not this summer.” Aunt Lydia shook her head.

“I hope you aren’t listening, Martha,” Juliana said. “They’re erasing you. And you standing over a hot stove to make them the chokecherry syrup they love so well.”

“I didn’t hear a thing,” Martha said. “I’m not here, remember?”

Juliana looked back at the aunts. “I’ll still have Martha and Alfred. And I promised Pastor Taylor I’d help with the homecoming picnic the first weekend in September. I need to be here to help make plans.”

“Margaret Nash is on that committee,” Aunt Lydia said, “and I imagine she’d blossom if only she had the chance. She’s very capable. You don’t need to be here.”

Juliana smiled. “I’ll let her blossom. She can head it up if she wants to, and I’ll do her bidding. Even so, it isn’t fair to dump the entire thing in her lap.”

“There are other people who can plan a church picnic,” Aunt Theodora said.

“Undoubtedly. But I want to help. And I don’t want to spend a month playing backgammon with people I barely know. I’m sure your Lake Geneva friends are lovely, but they are
your
friends.” Juliana paused. “And if you must know, I don’t want to be ‘the widow in residence.’ People here are at least used to it by now. They are only minimally shocked when I smile and laugh.”

She got up and took her plate to the sink and rinsed it. “Please. Aunt Lydia. Aunt Theodora. Go to Lake Geneva. Enjoy the cool breeze. There is no reason for you to stay here and melt with me. Beyond helping with the church picnic, I’m going to do very little but sit on the back porch, reading and drinking lemonade.”

“She’s trying to get rid of us,” Aunt Theodora said, looking troubled.

“She is,” Juliana agreed. “The truth comes out. I’m sick of you two. I need a break.”

“I knew it. I am crushed.” Aunt Theodora stood up. “Come, Lydia. We have packing to do.” She hesitated at the bottom of the stairs. “Martha.”

“Yes, Miss Theodora.” Martha looked up from stirring the syrup cooking on the stove.

“You will telegram us if Juliana regrets kicking us out?”

Martha smiled. “The very instant.”

“All right. Then I suppose one of you can tell Alfred that we’ll be needing a ride to the train station on Monday.”

When August heat began to take its toll, Cass had the crew load the wagons before dawn and head to the job site by moonlight. As soon as the sun came up, they went to work. By the time the heat was at its worst, they had put in almost a full day’s work and Cass sent them back to town with a reminder not to push the teams and to cool them down carefully. He often stayed behind. It wasn’t that bad if he took it slow, and he had grown to love having the place to himself.

Without the crew there, he could meander through the rooms and inspect the progress at his own pace. They were doing a fine job, but he still found little things on occasion that he could address. The plaster and lath would soon be finished. Things would go quickly after that. They shouldn’t have any trouble being ready for the open house Juliana wanted the weekend before Thanksgiving.