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

They needed someone with a particular set of skills, and the more ladies the committee interviewed, the more they realized that Aunt Theodora’s acerbic remark all those weeks ago about hoping to find a living, breathing woman like the biblical Mary wasn’t all that far off the mark. However, if she did exist, it appeared that “Mary” either wasn’t seeing the advertisements the society had placed in leading newspapers, or she wasn’t looking for a position.

One particularly trying afternoon when the committee had spent yet another few hours interviewing three more unsuitable applicants and rejecting another half-dozen inquiries, Helen Duncan teased Aunt Theodora. “If only you were interested in the position. You’d be ideal.”

The older woman sputtered disbelief. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You have all the requisite skills,” Helen insisted. “You’re detail oriented, you write beautifully, and there is no question you could maintain discipline.”

“You are very kind not to take note of my advancing decrepitude.” Aunt Theodora glanced around the table at the committee members. “Are we certain that Mrs. Crutchfield—?”

“We are,” Helen said abruptly and handed over the recent batch of rejected applications, so that Aunt Theodora could send regrets.

In the end, the aunts would be credited with finding the perfect candidate. One crisp fall day, Aunt Theodora hurried into the parlor where Juliana and Aunt Lydia were at work on yet another quilt. Letter in hand, she enthused, “Listen to this! Mrs. Harrison has decided to visit! She’s coming next week.”

“We met her at Lake Geneva,” Aunt Lydia explained.

“I remember.” Juliana nodded. “A widowed schoolteacher?”

“Yes,” Aunt Theodora nodded. “And a former minister’s wife. She impressed us both. So much.”

Aunt Lydia nodded. “She cared for her infirm parents until she married Reverend Harrison. Then once he was established in a ministry, they worked together, organizing a ministry to the needy poor. We couldn’t ask for a better candidate.”

Upon her arrival in Lincoln, Mrs. Harrison proved the aunts correct. Lovely, petite, and energetic, the young widow showed a particular tenderness toward the babies in Mrs. Crutchfield’s home. She revealed in private conversation with Helen Duncan that she had lost her only child in infancy.

Caroline Harrison dressed modestly, exhibited excellent manners, and charmed everyone. Including, Juliana noted, Cass Gregory, who seemed to make it his personal duty to provide the lovely Mrs. Harrison a guided tour of every nook and cranny of the Friendship Home.

Offered the position by a delighted and enthusiastic committee three days after her arrival in Lincoln, Mrs. Harrison accepted. She stayed in Lincoln over two Sundays. On her first Sunday, she accompanied Helen Duncan to First Church. On her second Sunday, she accepted Aunt Lydia’s invitation to come to St. John’s and to have Sunday dinner at the Sutton home. Aunt Lydia also invited the Duncans to share Sunday dinner and, in her words, “our dear Mr. Gregory, who has been so vital to the project’s success.”

Cass had “sent his regrets” to at least two dinner invitations extended since the aunts had returned from Lake Geneva. Apparently, he’d caught up with whatever work he’d used as an excuse on those two occasions, for he quickly accepted Aunt Lydia’s invitation. He seemed to enjoy himself, too, seated as he was at the opposite end of the table from Juliana, between his mother and the lovely Mrs. Harrison.

Oh, yes, everyone found Mrs. Harrison to be just perfect as the new matron. She took to the position like a woman born with the gift of administration. Of course, Juliana agreed when the topic came up. It was wonderful the way things had worked out. Just. Wonderful.

Jenny
Friday, October 12

“You really should have said something earlier.” Dr. Gilbert sighed as he took the stethoscope from around his neck and tucked it back into his black bag. He’d had Mrs. Crutchfield tend the babies in the other room so that he could examine Jenny in privacy. When Jenny said they shouldn’t impose on Mrs. Crutchfield that way, Dr. Gilbert had gotten as close to angry as she’d ever seen him.

“Mrs. Crutchfield,” he said, “will have to adjust.”

Of course he probably didn’t realize that Jenny would have to do most of the adjusting after he was gone—to the irascible woman’s bad temper at being put upon. But now was not the time to worry over that. Jenny rolled onto her side, facing the doctor who was seated on the edge of the narrow cot. She felt better lying this way. It seemed that the baby didn’t press on things that hurt quite so much.

“Do you know who the father is?”

She frowned. “Why are you asking me that? There’s only been one man in my life. Ever.”

The doctor nodded. “All right. I know the baby was conceived before the fire.” He took a deep breath. “I was just hoping there might be someone who would take responsibility.”

Fear clutched at her. Her throat constricted, and tears flooded her eyes. “Are they going to make me leave?”

“Of course not.”

She sniffed. “There’s rules. If they think I broke the rules, they’ll make me leave.”

“You didn’t break any rules. I can affirm that.” He put a gentle hand on her arm. “You’ll be taken care of. I believe what you’ve said about who the father is, but this baby is too small. You have to do better at eating.”

“Too small? I can’t hardly walk some days.”

“That’s because Johnny was probably too large for a woman your size. A lot of damage was done. It can make it more difficult for future confinements.” He stood up. “I’m going to tell Mrs. Crutchfield that you’re going to need to rest a lot more. And she’s going to have to help with the children. Or hire help.”

“Please! Ask Mrs. Duncan to get someone. She’ll get someone nice.”

Two days later, Helen Duncan brought someone new to visit. “This is the new matron for Friendship Home, Jenny. Her name is Mrs. Harrison.”

Mrs. Duncan sat down on the edge of Jenny’s cot. She told Mrs. Harrison about each of the babies. And she remembered everything that Jenny had ever told her about each one.

Mrs. Harrison picked up each of the babies in turn. She even got little Huldah to smile. Huldah, who had been returned after only a week in her new home because the people said she cried too much.

After she met the babies, Mrs. Harrison spoke to Jenny. “Dr. Gilbert told me that you are going to have another baby?”

Jenny nodded. Here it came. She steeled herself for the expected scolding.

“He’s very concerned that you aren’t eating well. He’s also concerned that caring for four babies is just too much to expect of you. Mrs. Duncan and I think we have a solution. But you do not have to agree to it if you don’t want to. I want to make that clear.”

“What is it?”

“We’ve arranged for Huldah and Emil and Miller to be moved to one of the other homes. Just temporarily, until Friendship Home is ready to open. I’m already living out there in a stone cottage on the grounds. It’s a lovely place, and there are two bedrooms. I need only one. What would you say to moving there until the Friendship Home is ready? The thought is that, if you have a chance to rest, you’ll begin to feel better. Your appetite will improve, and everything will go much better for you and the new baby.”

Jenny frowned. “What about Johnny?”

“Why, he’ll stay with us, of course.” Mrs. Harrison smiled. “I love babies. I think between the two of us we can handle one Johnny, don’t you?”

“He’s a good boy,” Jenny said. “He’s hardly any trouble.”

“So much the better.”

“Won’t Mrs. Crutchfield be mad?”

Mrs. Harrison and Mrs. Duncan exchanged knowing looks before Mrs. Duncan said, “I suspect she will, but that isn’t any of your concern.
Your
concern is to take good care of yourself so that you can mother your children. We’re going to help you, but only until you’re well enough to do it yourself. How does that sound?”

Jenny began to cry. “I’m sorry. I cry too much. I know I do, but I can’t seem to help it. I’m just so glad you came. And yes, please. I’d love to get Johnny away from here. As long as the others have a place to go, too.”

Mrs. Harrison sat down on the bed next to Jenny and gently brushed the hair back out of her face. “It’s all right, dear,” she said. “Tears are precious to the Lord. You cry as many as you need to cry.”

Long into the night, Jenny thought about Mrs. Harrison’s gentle hand brushing her hair back out of her face. That must be what it was like to have a mother who loved you. She’d have to remember to pet Johnny like that. So he’d know he was loved.

I will be glad and rejoice in thy mercy: for thou hast considered my trouble; thou has known my soul in adversities…. Blessed be the L
ORD:
for he hath shewed me his marvellous kindness in a strong city.
P
SALM
31:7, 21

L
ate in October, on the day when the committee would oversee the furnishing of Friendship Home, Juliana rose before dawn. She dressed quickly and descended to the kitchen, where she left a note on the table for Martha and the aunts, then headed out to the barn to saddle Tecumseh. A ring of thick fog surrounded the house, but when she paused and looked up, Juliana could see the night sky and a few glimmering stars. Her booted feet swishing through the dew-laden grass sounded unnaturally loud in the predawn quiet. So did the creaking of the barn door and the click of metal on metal as she unlatched Tecumseh’s stall door and led him out to be saddled.

She’d just tightened the girth strap when she heard footsteps on the stairway leading down from Martha and Alfred’s apartment above the barn. Alfred appeared in the open doorway and teased, “Good to know it isn’t a horse thief rustling around down here.” He stepped into the barn and reached for the bucket sitting just to the left of the door.

“I should have known I couldn’t sneak out on you.”

Alfred smiled. “Truth is, I was already awake, sitting by the window, reading my Bible. I saw you come out of the house.” He paused. “Everything all right?”

Juliana nodded. “The furnishings start to arrive today.”

“I’m meeting Mr. Gregory with our wagon at the warehouse right after breakfast. Sounds like he’s made arrangements for an entire wagon train. He said you’re hoping to have everything set up by the end of the week.”

“I’m not sure it’ll even take that long—at least if all our playing with that model over the weeks bears fruit. We think we know where everything goes.”

Alfred grinned. “I been married a long time, Miss Juliana. I know a thing or two about women and arranging furniture. Change is just part of things.”

Juliana laughed. She gathered the reins and led Tecumseh out of the barn. “I left a note on the table, but it just says that I’ll be back in plenty of time to hitch up the buggy so the four of us can head out to Friendship Home together.” She paused. “Martha is still planning on going, I hope.”

“She certainly is.” Martha descended the stairs behind them. Alfred excused himself to fetch the team that had been turned into a field at the back of the property.

Juliana could just see the gate to that field in the distance. The rest was shrouded in fog.

“You all right?” Martha asked.

Juliana nodded. “I am. I just—” She looked off to the south. “I have a notion I’d like to see the house before it’s once and for all changed into a home for the friendless.” She shrugged. “A last walk-through.”

“A last good-bye?”

Martha’s gentle voice putting words to what Juliana had been thinking opened the floodgates. Tears clouded her vision. “I suppose that’s silly. I never wanted it, and I haven’t once regretted giving it away. I still don’t. But—” She shook her head. “I can’t explain it. I just need to say good-bye to everything. Again.” She took a deep breath and glanced at the house. “Tell them not to worry. I really am fine. I just need to do this.”

“The aunts have had enough of their own losses to understand,” Martha said. “You think you’ll be back in time for some breakfast?”

“I don’t expect to be gone long.”

“You remember the story of Joshua walking around the walls of Jericho?”

“
And the walls came-a-tumblin’ down?
” Juliana quoted the last line of the spiritual.

“That’s the one. While you’re walking through and around that house, I’ll be praying the Lord tears down all the walls.”

“Walls?”

“This has been a hard year. You’ve had to face down a lot, and you’ve done it well. You keep marching, Miss Juliana. Right out of the shadows and into the sun. “Martha paused. “I know it’s not my place to say it, but someone needs to. I’m praying the good Lord gives you new love.” She smiled. “I know. I know. You don’t have room for that right now. But you will. And when you do, that’ll be a good thing.”