Stephanie Grace Whitson - [Quilt Chronicles] (36 page)

“Blackberry?” she asked.

Martha nodded.

“I’m ready for lunch now.”

“I’ll save a piece back for you,” Martha promised.

Aunt Theodora spoke up. “You are to be commended for recruiting Mrs. Nash to plan lunches for the workers this week,” she said. “When I spoke with her at church on Sunday, she already had menus sorted out and half the baking for the entire week finished. And she had made arrangements to transport everything. Something about a new wagon.” She plopped jelly onto a piece of toast and handed it to Juliana, then slid a poached egg off the serving dish and onto her plate. “We will all need our wits about us today. You must eat a good breakfast, dear.”

Juliana smiled at Aunt Lydia, who rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I haven’t seen my sister this excited in years. She’s quite beside herself now that she’s been given so much authority.”

Theodora sputtered. “I am merely going to direct traffic so that things are done as efficiently as possible. Someone needed to be stationed at the front door to tell the gentlemen where to put what.”

“And there’s no one better at telling people where to put what than you.” Aunt Lydia laughed; then she leaned over and patted her sister’s arm. “Relax, Sister. I’m only teasing.” She held up her coffee cup. “I salute you.”

Jenny
Monday, October 22

Mrs. Harrison had taken Johnny downstairs as soon as he woke.

“If I could, I would order you to spend the day in bed,” she’d said. “As it is, I’m begging you to please sleep a little more.”

Mrs. Harrison was good with Johnny. He’d had a big smile on his face when he’d waved ‘bye as she carried him out of the room. Thinking about the matron’s kindness, Jenny put her hand to her belly and smiled. Things were better now. She felt better. Stronger. Part of her wished she could just stay here instead of moving across the way to the big house. But Mrs. Harrison had shown her the room where she and Johnny would be, and Jenny could see that it was going to be a nice place to live. Emil and Huldah and Miller and a new baby that had been left on someone’s doorstep just last week would be moving out here the first of December. It would be nice to have them close again. Johnny would have someone to play with.

Jenny was beginning to hope. She hadn’t said anything to Mrs. Harrison, but if she could get stronger, if she showed herself willing to work, maybe she and Johnny and the baby could even stay here. Earn their keep. For today, though, Jenny would watch the comings and goings from her bedroom window.

By noon, half-a-dozen wagonloads of furniture had been carried inside the house. People were having lunch now. A woman had driven in just a little while ago. As Jenny watched, she climbed up into the back of her wagon and began arranging things. Then she climbed down and lowered the
side
of the wagon, revealing platters of food lined up along the edge of the exposed wagon bed. People could pick up a plate from the stack near the driver’s seat and make their way down the line. Two large watercoolers at the back of the wagon bed allowed people to stick a graniteware mug under the spigot and get a drink.

That was a smart woman. Jenny wondered if she was on the committee with the rich women, but she didn’t think so. She was dressed plainer. And she didn’t seem to be friends with any of the others. Except Mr. Gregory. He’d lifted her down from the wagon and was eating lunch with her and Mrs. Harrison.

Other workers were sitting on the ground under one of the trees at the back of the house or on the steps. Still others ate while standing in small groups and chatting. Everyone down there seemed happy. There were smiles and nods and gestures as they ate and talked. As Jenny watched, Mrs. Harrison stepped up to the wagon and loaded a plate of food and headed toward the cottage with Mr. Gregory.

Jenny glanced over at herself in the mirror. Sweeping her hands over her hair, she bent to pick up Johnny and head downstairs. Pain shot through her, and with a gasp, she plopped the baby on the floor and sat down. He began to fuss.

She heard the front door open and murmurs and then Mrs. Harrison’s footsteps on the stairs. Johnny heard them, too. He stopped crying and crawled to the doorway. When he reached up, Mrs. Harrison bent and hoisted him into her arms as she said to Jenny, “We’ve brought you some lunch.”

Jenny forced a smile. “That’s nice of you. I’ll come down when Johnny takes his nap. I’m not very hungry right now. But I’ll eat. A lot. In just a little while. I promise.”

Mrs. Harrison nodded. “As long as you promise.” She smoothed Johnny’s rumpled hair and asked, “Do you mind if I take him to meet everyone?” She paused. “I’d love for them to meet you, too. But I don’t want you to feel like you’re being put on display. It’s up to you.”

Jenny shook her head. “Not today.” That was one of the differences between Mrs. Harrison and Mrs. Crutchfield. Mrs. Harrison thought about a person’s feelings. Jenny smiled. “But I don’t mind you showing Johnny off one bit.”

Mrs. Harrison left with the baby. Jenny took a few deep breaths. There. That didn’t feel so bad now. She peered back out the window, reveling in the smiles as people admired her boy.

A man that hath friends must shew himself friendly: and there is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother.
P
ROVERBS
18:24

J
uliana had said that she didn’t think it would take the entire week to prepare Friendship Home for residents, and as the day wore on, she became more convinced than ever that she was right. She even began to wonder if they really needed to delay until December to move people in.

Throughout the day, Theodora reigned from just inside the front door, guiding each piece of furniture to the correct room, where another member of the committee waited, drawing in hand, to oversee that room’s arrangement. Boxes of kitchenwares were stacked on the back porch to be attended to another day. Once the long, narrow tables were brought in and positioned in the dining room, bed linens and towels were stacked atop the tables to be taken up to the appropriate rooms later.

By the time Cass’s mother arrived with her newly outfitted wagon, the library where Juliana was stationed boasted two game tables with four chairs each set before the tall windows and two reading circles atop plush rugs in opposite corners of the room. The bookshelves that encircled the room would likely remain free of books until there was time to conduct a book drive. Juliana and the aunts would look into that after the first of the year.

They’d begun to jot down names of books they hoped to acquire. Even Aunt Theodora approved of Jane Austen and Charles Dickens, Martha Finley’s ongoing Elsie Dinsmore series, and Sir Walter Scott. She was not quite so sure about Mr. Stevenson’s new release,
Robinson Crusoe.

“But,” she sighed when they discussed it over dinner one evening, “I don’t suppose it’s fair for my tastes to dictate.” And she’d pointed at Aunt Lydia. “Don’t say it. I hear you. Just don’t.”

When it came time for lunch, Helen Duncan asked Cass Gregory to offer a blessing. Juliana had never heard him pray aloud. She stood on the back porch between Aunt Lydia and Aunt Theodora, her head bowed, her eyes closed. When Cass thanked God for what He’d done through the Suttons, she felt heat rise to her cheeks. When he asked God’s guidance in all the details of the Friendship Home, she heard Aunt Lydia murmur an amen. He closed by asking God to bless the staff and Mrs. Harrison as they took on their responsibilities and to enable everyone involved in Friendship Home to bring the hope of Christ to future residents “by showing them the love of God.”

When he said “Amen,” a hearty chorus of amens answered.

Juliana and the aunts joined the long line of workers filing by the ingenious wagon Margaret had apparently just had built to enable her to cater to more such events. Cass chatted with Mrs. Harrison and ended up eating with her and his mother. Juliana could not seem to rid herself of the awareness of where he was—especially when he and Mrs. Harrison gathered up a plate of food and headed into the stone cottage together.

When they came back outside with the child she’d seen that morning in Mrs. Harrison’s arms, Juliana finally admitted it to herself. She was jealous. She finished her own lunch quickly and then busied herself helping Margaret clean up while everyone else admired the child. Everyone, Juliana noted with amazement, including Aunt Theodora, who ended up sitting down on the back steps and asking Mrs. Harrison to let her hold the “little nubbin’.”

“I never imagined Miss Theodora to be fond of babies.”

Juliana started at the sound of Cass’s voice just behind her. He’d apparently been gathering up people’s tin mugs and was beginning to pile them into the cracker box that Margaret used to store them.

Juliana glanced at Aunt Theodora smiling down at the little boy like a woman who’d just discovered buried treasure. “Neither did I.”

Martha approached with a piece of blackberry pie on a plate. “Promised I’d save you a piece.”

“That’s not fair,” Cass teased. “You said it was all gone when I came to get a piece.”

“It was all gone,” Martha explained. “Just because it hadn’t been swallowed yet didn’t mean it wasn’t all gone.”

When Juliana passed the pie to Cass, Martha just shook her head. “You better appreciate that,” she said to Cass. “She’s been lookin’ forward to that since before the sun rose this morning. It’s her favorite.”

Cass reached for a knife and cut the pie in half on the plate, then handed Juliana a fork and took one up himself. “Share?”

“You two go on over there in the shade and enjoy that,” Margaret said. “I can finish up here.”

Cass offered his arm, and together he and Juliana walked around the wagon and into a spot of shade. “The morning’s gone well,” he said as he took the first bite of pie.

Juliana nodded. “I don’t think it’s really going to take all week.”

“You might be surprised. All the big furniture is likely the easy part. Now there’s beds to make and that kitchen—that’s going to take some time. You really are going to wash all those new dishes before they go in the cupboards?”

Juliana nodded. “And you’re right. It’s going to take a long time. Martha is friends with Mrs. Kennedy, the woman who’s been hired to be the head cook. Mrs. Kennedy’s coming out this afternoon so that she and Martha can look things over and try to plan what goes where. Apparently there’s almost a science to setting up an efficient kitchen.”

“You haven’t eaten one bit of that pie. I thought you said it was your favorite.”

Juliana looked down at the plate. Cass was finished. When she reached up to hold the plate and cut a bite with the side of her fork, their hands touched. He didn’t let go. She felt herself blushing like a schoolgirl. Quickly, she took a second bite.

“Here you are.” Aunt Lydia stepped up. Cass let go of the plate. “Dear boy,” she said, “after hearing that prayer, I am more convinced than ever that your name should be submitted to Pastor Taylor as a candidate for deacon.”

Cass seemed embarrassed. “That’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever said about me, Aunt Lydia, and it would be a great honor—someday. But not yet.”

“All right. But I have my eye on you.”

Cass grinned. “I’ll keep that in mind, ma’am.”

Just then the child who’d been laughing on Theodora’s knee let out a squeal and began to cry. Everyone looked over. Mrs. Harrison had the boy in her arms and was heading back to the house. He was reaching with both arms for Theodora.

Cass glanced at Aunt Lydia. “I was just telling Mrs. Sutton that I wouldn’t have thought Miss Theodora one to be fond of babies.”

Lydia shrugged. “First bloomers and now this. My sister is just full of surprises.”

Cass looked at Juliana. “Do I dare ask about the bloomers?”

Juliana laughed. “You can ask, but when I did, they both just looked at each with a secretive smile.”

“It was part of a conversation about widows’ weeds and how tradition and custom don’t always fit every situation,” Aunt Lydia explained. She put her hand on Juliana’s shoulder. “And you see the lovely evidence of that discussion before you,
sans
veil,
sans
crepe—although the younger generation doesn’t always pay attention to such things. You probably haven’t even noticed the difference.”

“I’ve noticed,” Cass said. After a brief silence, he pointed to the pie plate. “If you don’t eat that soon, I won’t be responsible for what happens. And future deacons should not be guilty of pie thievery.”

The week sailed by. Finally, on Thursday evening, with all the heavy moving finished, Cass dismissed the building crew and told them to take Friday off and then report early Monday ready to tackle the next project. Sutton Builders had won the bid to erect a new church at Twelfth and M Streets in town. After poring over the plans the church had approved by a Mr. Wilcox in Minneapolis, Cass was already more than a little concerned that the $25,000 bid the boss had prepared might prove to be on the low side. He’d already met with Reverend McKaig about it. The reverend assured Cass that his people would be more than willing to solicit subscriptions to cover any increase in costs.