Stephanie Grace Whitson - [Quilt Chronicles] (43 page)

Aunt Theodora had gone upstairs to check on Johnny when Juliana saw Mr. Lindermann’s rig pull up to the stone cottage. Caroline asked Aunt Lydia and Juliana if they would mind checking on Nurse Wilder and the other babies while she and Pastor Taylor handled “the sad business at the cottage.”

She and Aunt Lydia were headed to the library when Juliana said, “I wonder if it might help Caroline more if I pull Jenny’s file and work on a memorial.” She paused. “And the board hasn’t really discussed a situation like this, but it seems to me that if there is family listed in that file, wouldn’t they want to know? Even If … even if they are estranged. There’s a child’s life to be considered. Shouldn’t we do what we can to find Johnny a family? And if it could be part of his real family, so much the better.”

“Absolutely.” Aunt Lydia nodded agreement. “They may regret severing ties. We should definitely let them know. I’ll see to the children—and my sister. You see what you can find.”

Before opening the file drawer in Caroline’s office, Juliana glanced out the window. She didn’t recognize either of the men talking to Caroline and Pastor Taylor. It was odd that Mr. Lindermann had sent someone else. Juliana hoped it didn’t mean that he counted residents of Friendship Home unworthy of his personal attention. The elongated wicker “basket” in the back of the wagon made her shudder. Turning away, she opened the file drawer, trying to imagine the day when it would be filled with the records of people they’d helped. Today, though, finding Jenny’s record was easy.

The name on the file was simply
Jenny L.
Dear Caroline, so kindhearted. Undoubtedly concerned about guarding residents’ privacy—especially in the case of the children. Laying the file on Caroline’s desk, Juliana took a seat. Taking a piece of notepaper from the letter box that was part of an ornate desk set—another of Reggie’s treasures—Juliana set it alongside the file. She took the lid off one of the crystal inkwells, dipped the pen in the ink, opened the file, and prepared to write.

And then she saw the name.

Her throat constricted.
Jenna Pamelia Lindermann.
With a sharp intake of air, she looked out the window to the wagon. A smudge of ink reminded her to lay the pen down before she ruined the nib.

She closed her eyes and sat back, trembling.
God help me. Help me. Help me.

Finally, her heart pounding, she opened her eyes and read:

She wasn’t even twenty-five.
If he were still alive, Sterling would be celebrating his forty-third birthday in a few months.

John S. John Sutton? John Sterling?

“Here you are.” Caroline was standing in the doorway.

Juliana closed the file. “I thought I’d help—” She glanced out the window. “Aunt Lydia and I decided…. We thought—if there was family. They should know.”

The men Mr. Lindermann had sent out were back up on the wagon seat, driving the team of black horses in a tight turn that would head them back into Lincoln.

Caroline nodded. “I agree. We should create a policy to that effect.” She paused. Cleared her throat. “In this case … I would imagine Mrs. Duncan has taken care of that by now.”

Lindermann.
Jenny cast out. Ending up here … destitute. Dying. And all the while her uncle—it was too much to process right now.

How much did Caroline know?

Trembling, Juliana returned the fountain pen to the groove on the desk set. She looked down at the smudged paper then put her hand atop the closed file. “Th–there isn’t much here. If I hadn’t recognized the name—”

“I thought it best to err on the side of privacy,” Caroline said. “Jenny requested it.” She took a deep breath. “I suppose that’s something else the board should discuss in the near future. A policy regarding our residents’ privacy. And that of their families.”

She seemed about to say more, but then the sound of baby laughter echoed in the hall, and Aunt Theodora appeared in the doorway with Johnny Lindermann in her arms. “The nap did wonders,” she said and gave the child a hug. “I haven’t seen a prettier baby since Sterling was this age.”

Juliana could only nod.

Caroline’s voice was gentle as she reached over and took the file. “I’ll take care of the obituary. I probably knew Jenny better than anyone.”

Was there hidden meaning behind the words? Juliana couldn’t tell. One thing was certain: the aunts must never know. The only thing to do was to … do the next thing. Let Caroline and Helen handle the issue with Mr. Lindermann. And keep the promise she’d made to herself that women without anyone to care should not leave the earth without someone taking note. Without a proper burial and a proper granite memorial.

God help me.

Behold, I have refined thee, but not with silver; I have chosen thee in the furnace of affliction.
I
SAIAH
48:10

H
ow was it possible for a person to climb aboard a buggy and drive home when she couldn’t breathe? Somehow, Juliana managed. But once home, once the aunts had climbed down with a shiver, all Juliana could think of was that she had reached the end of her ability to pretend. She needed time. Time to think. Time away from the aunts struggling with regrets that had, apparently, crept out of their own past to overshadow Jenny Lindermann’s tragic story.

She needed Cass. Where was he? The building site or the office? She spoke up. “I–I’m going to see if I can find Cass. He was going to come by this evening, but I—I need him now.” She didn’t wait for a response before driving off. When she glanced back as she drove out onto the road leading into town, the aunts were standing in the cold, watching her leave.

And here she was again, driving a buggy into Lincoln because of something Sterling had done. Just when she had begun to find happiness again. Just when she was preparing to buy Nell Parker a headstone. And now … yet another name. A name she thought she’d snipped out of her life. Oh, she’d kept the locket, but she hadn’t looked at it in a long time. And didn’t that mean she really had forgiven Sterling? But this … this reality brought everything roaring back. The photograph. The locket. The curl of hair.
Johnny Lindermann’s hair.
In the bedroom she’d shared with Sterling for nearly ten years.

Dear God. Help me.

Raw emotion broke through her reserves of strength. There wasn’t enough anger to mount a defense against the realization that if she continued to be involved out at the Friendship Home, she was going to see Sterling’s boy grow up. Watch a living, breathing reminder of the only thing she could have given Sterling that he couldn’t buy … and the very thing she’d been unable to provide.

A rabbit skittered from behind a patch of brown grass in front of Fancy. The little mare snorted and would have bolted if Juliana hadn’t been quick to respond. As it was, she nearly had to stand up to regain control. The distraction helped her stop blubbering. By the time she got to the building site, she was almost in her right mind again.

Cass was there, dressed in overalls and a flannel shirt, his face smeared with dirt, his hands caked with filth. He didn’t see her at first. She pulled the lap robe closer and waited. Finally, someone—Jessup, she thought it was—nudged him and nodded in her direction. Cass took his cap off and waved.

That smile. That blessed smile.

And then the smile faded. He said something to Jessup and ran to her, nearly stumbling over the uneven ground. Once at the buggy, he scrambled up beside her. “What is it? What’s happened?”

She shook her head. Gulped. “I needed—I needed—”

“Is it Miss Theodora? Aunt Lydia?”

She shook her head. “It’s Sterling. Always—Sterling.” She began to sob.

He pulled her close. “Here. Give me the reins.” She handed them over.

Somehow, he managed to drive the buggy and still hold on to her. She didn’t know where they were going, and she didn’t care. Just … away. Anywhere. Until she could find a way to stop crying. She huddled against him. When the buggy stopped, she looked around. He’d pulled up at the rear of a small house. “Wh–where are we?”

“Somewhere safe. From prying eyes, from listening ears.” He jumped down and hitched Fancy to one of the back porch uprights. “Sadie was worried about cooking her first Thanksgiving dinner. Ma’s gone down to spend the week.”

Thanksgiving. Day after tomorrow.

So this was Margaret’s house. The house she was buying from Ludwig Meyer. Now that Cass wasn’t holding her anymore, Juliana realized she was cold … so … cold. She began to shiver.

Coming to her side of the buggy, Cass shoved the lap robe off and pulled her into his arms. He fumbled with the door handle, then carried her inside and settled her in the rocker by the stove. For the next few minutes he scurried about, gathering up a worn quilt, building a fire, heating up the stove, heating water, and finally sitting down opposite her and reaching out to take her hands in his.

But then he noticed the mud on his clothes. “I’ll be right back,” he said. “Just let me get cleaned up.”

“No.” Juliana held on. “Don’t. Leave.” Tears threatened. “Please. Just. Don’t leave me.”

He leaned close. “Juliana. Look at me.”

She met his gaze.

“I will never leave you. Do you hear me?
Never.
I will never betray you, and I will never leave.”

That made her cry again because she believed him, and believing him terrified her. She’d believed Sterling, too. Once.

The kettle began to steam. Cass reached over and moved it off the burner, but still he held her hand. He didn’t urge her to talk; he just waited. Finally, she drew in a ragged breath and told him about driving out and finding Caroline up in the nursery with Johnny. About how calm Caroline was and how, when she and Pastor Taylor went out to speak with the undertaker, Aunt Lydia went to check on all the children and Aunt Theodora.

“I thought I could spare Caroline some work writing an obituary. Aunt Lydia and I decided that if Jenny had family, they should know. E–even if they’d refused to help. So I went into her office and I pulled the file and …” Her voice wavered. She clenched her jaw. Cleared her throat. “Jenny’s name was Jenna. Jenna Pamelia Lindermann. P. L.”

Somehow she muddled through the rest. The letters on the locket, the place the baby was born. “I think that was the farm I wondered about in the pile of land deeds and paperwork after he died.” She sobbed. “He bought a farm for her. And when I sold it—that’s when she came to Mrs. Crutchfield’s. Everything fits. Even Helen Duncan’s sudden interest in the unwed mothers. Her change in attitude toward me, for that matter.” She broke off. Swiped at her tears. “She found out about Jenny, and she felt sorry for me. Poor, naive, ignorant Juliana.”

“Oh, sweetheart … oh, darling …” Cass bent down and kissed her hands. “I am so sorry.”

“I just keep wondering. Who else knows? Does Caroline know? Am I even right about the Duncans? And now … now there’s a little boy … and I wanted a little boy, Cass. I wanted a little boy so much—I don’t know what to do. I managed until we got back to the house. But I can’t—I couldn’t—all I could think of was that I wanted—I needed—you.”

She began to cry again, but this time the tears flowed gently. “The aunts … this would kill them. Aunt Theodora is so fond of Johnny. She’s even said he reminds her of Sterling. It was all completely innocent, of course, but—I don’t know what to do.”

Cass squeezed her hands. “You will. You’ll find your way. You always do.”

“How will I face Caroline? What if she knows? What if Jenny told her?”

“Even if she knows, Caroline would protect everyone concerned.”

“I’ve never seen Aunt Theodora so emotional. Something in all of this opened … something from the past. Aunt Lydia called it ‘the thing of which we do not speak.’” Juliana shook her head. “I can’t just remain silent and hope for the best.” Bitterness leached out of her as she said, “He doesn’t deserve it, but I have to protect Sterling’s reputation—for the sake of his aunts.”

Cass nodded. “All right. I’ll drive you out there tomorrow. We’ll see to it. Together. But not until you’ve had a chance to think—and pray.”

He made her tea. And then he went to change. They drove back to the job site, where Cass talked to Jessup again, and then he stopped at the livery to get Baron so he’d have a way back to town later. He took her home.

As they drove past Lindermann’s, Juliana wondered aloud about how Mr. Lindermann was doing, and that set her back on a course of thinking about Helen’s phone call this morning. “She didn’t want me calling Mr. Lindermann. If she knows about Jenny …” She paused.

“Then she didn’t want you giving Mr. Lindermann the news, because she was afraid that he might blurt out something that would hurt you.”

Juliana sighed. “It’s all so convoluted. It makes me tired.” She put her head on Cass’s shoulder and closed her eyes.

Cass helped Alfred tend the horses, then headed inside where Juliana had set the kitchen table for four. When they had all settled around the table, she asked Cass to say grace.