The Pattern of Her Heart (20 page)

“We can discuss that matter at another time. And don’t you forget to come back for your belongings, Reggie,” she instructed as she gave the girl a hug.

“I won’t. Thank you for letting me stay with you.”

“You are most welcome,” she said warmly.

The trio made their way out to the wagon, and Justin lifted Reggie up onto the seat. “I’ll let you know what I think of Reggie’s baking,” he called out as he slapped the reins and flashed a smile at Elinor.

The sun had not yet crested the ridge of hills along the eastern fringes of the city when Justin Chamberlain forced himself from a sound sleep and settled his feet on the rough and splintered floorboards of his small bedroom.

He rubbed his eyes and raked one hand through his mop of disheveled hair in an attempt to pat down the errant strands that circled his head like ruffled chicken feathers. “Good enough,” he muttered.

The previous night’s work had continued until the cover of darkness made it impossible to safely continue unloading the household goods. He had secured the tarp-covered wagon in the barnlike storage shed at the rear of his house and then spent the next hour caring for his horses.

He’d gone to bed promising himself he would arise early the next day and finish unloading the wagon before Reggie awakened. That way they would have the entire day to uncrate and arrange the goods. Granted, it would take more than one day, but with an early start, he hoped to accomplish a great deal.

He was carrying the last of the crates into the front room when Reggie bounded down the stairs and met him in the parlor. She stood before him in an old cotton nightgown that had belonged to her mother. Wild wisps of hair flew in all directions as they escaped the long braid hanging down her back.

“You began without me,” she accused.

“You need not worry. I haven’t unpacked one thing, so there is still plenty to do. In fact, we’ll be fortunate if we have everything unpacked by this time next week.”

“I could remain at home all next week and help you,” she volunteered.

Justin laughed aloud. “I think not, young lady. If the choice comes down to our living in chaos or your attending school, we’ll live in chaos. We’ll complete what we can today and work on it each evening next week.”

“If you ask the teacher, I’m certain she’ll send my work home.”

“It’s more important that you attend school than unpack boxes,” he replied. “Now why don’t you run upstairs and get dressed while I fix us some breakfast. Once we’ve finished our meal, we’ll begin.”

His daughter grumbled under her breath as she shuffled out of the room and up the steep flight of stairs, her feet slapping heavily on the wooden steps in a childlike display of irritation. Justin ignored the exhibition, knowing Reggie would be sorely disappointed that her actions failed to annoy him.

A hearty breakfast of eggs, bacon, and Reggie’s homemade bread, along with a crock of raspberry jam supplied by Elinor, was waiting on the table when Reggie entered the kitchen in an old, faded dress that was too short.

“It appears you’ve grown since you last wore that dress,” her father remarked as she plopped down on the wooden chair.

“The skirt may be a little too short, but it’s plenty good enough to wear while I’m unpacking boxes.”

“You’re right about that. Incidentally, this bread is excellent.” He waved the jam-laden slice he held in one hand.

Her eyes brightened at the praise. “Thank you. I’m pleased you like it. I’m going to attempt making some all by myself next Saturday. I’d like to make some on Monday, but since I must go to school . . .” Her voice trailed off as she gave her father a questioning look.

“Next Saturday it shall be. And I’ll look forward to it with great anticipation,” he replied. “Shall we get to those boxes?” he asked as he picked up their plates and cleared the table.

Reggie nodded. “It’s nice to have all of our furniture again, isn’t it?” Reggie asked as they began opening boxes.

He agreed. The furniture was scattered about the rooms in complete disarray, and yet there was comfort in being surrounded by their own belongings.

“I never saw this before. Who made it?” Reggie inquired, holding up an intricately stitched sampler.

“Your mother made it the year before we married.”

“It’s beautiful. May I have it?” she asked, tracing her finger over the raised stitching.

Justin was surprised by his daughter’s request. “Of course. You can have anything of your mother’s you desire. In fact, I know she would be delighted that you appreciate her handwork.”

“Can I take it over to Mrs. Brighton’s and show her?”

Justin mumbled his agreement while unwrapping the hastily packed dishes. “It appears I didn’t secure these as well as I thought.”

Reggie surveyed the broken plate and grinned. “So long as three of them remain unbroken, we’ll do fine.”

“Three?”

She gave him a look of surprise. “We’ll need to invite Mrs. Brighton for supper, don’t you think?”

Her father was kneeling on the floor, reaching deep into one of the crates. “Oh yes, of course.”

Once again she had surprised him. Reggie, so slow to make friends, especially with adults, had apparently grown quite fond of Elinor Brighton during his absence. The thought pleased him. After the incident at the church, he was acutely aware his daughter could use the guidance of a woman.

“Were you expecting company?” Reggie inquired as a knock sounded at the door. She stood up and peeked out through a small opening in the parlor drapes.

The knocking continued and Justin sat back on his heels. “Are you going . . .”

“It’s them!” Reggie hissed. She tiptoed back to her father.

“Them? Who is
them
?”

“The church ladies!” she whispered. She leaned closer to her father’s ear as the knocking grew more insistent. “We need to hide.”

“Pastor Chamberlain!” Winifred Mason’s shrill voice called from the other side of the door. “Try the back door. I know he’s in there! I’ll look through the parlor windows and see if anyone’s in there.” She had apparently taken charge of the group.

Justin rose to his feet. “We can’t hide in here, Reggie. I’ll tell them we’re busy and ask them to return at another time.”

“On a school day,” she said quickly.

He smiled and nodded while walking to the door. “Ladies!” he greeted, positioning himself to block their entry.

“My dear husband saw your wagon in front of Mrs. Brighton’s boardinghouse yesterday and told me you had returned with your furniture and household goods,” Winifred said, the frightfully large feather on her hat bobbing back and forth in time with her exaggerated movements. “Believe me, it didn’t take long before I spread the word to the other ladies that we must come over here today and assist you.”

“You are very kind to offer, but Reggie and I have the situation under control. We’ve already unpacked most of the crates and boxes,” he explained.

“Tut, tut, this is women’s work,” Martha Emory said. “You and that young child can’t properly arrange a household. Come along, ladies,” she commanded as she gave the door a hefty shove.

Justin flattened himself against the wall as the women stormed the house. They hesitated in the foyer for only a moment before turning their attention to the parlor. The chaos and disorder beckoned them onward like soldiers who had glimpsed the enemy. They charged into the room with fierce determination etched upon their faces. They had observed their obstacle, and they would conquer!

Martha placed her parasol in the umbrella stand with a definitive thunk. “You were gone for so long we thought perhaps you’d return with a wife. You
didn’t,
did you?”

“No,” Justin replied softly while watching the remaining ladies begin digging through their belongings. “As I said, Reggie and I are quite capable of completing this task without assistance,” he insisted, though no one except his daughter appeared to hear him.

“You see? There’s no need to worry, Caroline,” Martha remarked to her very eligible daughter.

Caroline’s face reddened, and she quickly turned a dagger-filled glare upon her mother.

Reggie edged close to her father’s side. “Tell them to leave,” she pleaded as the women began rearranging the parlor furniture.

He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t believe there’s any way to get them out,” he said, now resigned to his fate.

“Do
something
!” Reggie implored.

“Ladies! Please don’t move the furniture. I’m quite happy with it just the way it is,” he requested feebly.

Winifred looked at him as though he’d lost his mind. “You can’t have the divan sitting in front of the window. The sun will fade the fabric.”

“Indeed!” Caroline agreed.

“I’ll close the draperies,” he argued.

“You’ll forget after one or two days,” Martha insisted. “If there were a woman—a
wife
—to attend to such matters on a daily basis, then such an arrangement might be acceptable.”

Although Justin and Reggie made several more attempts to halt the women’s ministrations, their suggestions went ignored. Finally, Justin sat down and watched while Reggie paced back and forth behind him, muttering words of irritation and disgust. When the group had the parlor arranged to their satisfaction, they clumped up the stairs to accomplish their next mission.

“Who could
that
be?” Justin asked as another knock sounded at the front door.

He pulled open the door and was greeted by the unremitting chatter of another group of women from the church. The thought of slamming the door was tempting, yet he maintained his dignity.

“Ladies! I do believe I have all the assistance I can stand for one day.”

“You can never have enough help when it comes to settling into a new house,” Cecile Turnvall remarked as she, Abigail Mitchell, and Charlotte Brown bustled into the parlor.

There was no stopping Cecile. She and her comrades immediately set about moving all of the furniture the first group had arranged only a short time earlier. They tugged and pulled and huffed and puffed until the furniture was settled into a display that met with her satisfaction.

“That is
so
much better,” she triumphantly announced. “Men have no sense of design and balance.”

Justin stared into the room. This group had returned the furniture to much the way he’d arranged it earlier in the day.

“Well, I have never been so insulted!” Winifred remarked as her small group came down the stairway in time to hear Cecile’s pronouncement. Winifred marched into the parlor with her mouth agape as she viewed the change that had taken place during her absence. “The furniture was perfectly arranged when we went upstairs. What have you done, Cecile?”

Cecile’s eyebrows furrowed. The woman was obviously confused. “I have set things aright in this parlor,” she answered calmly.

Winfred turned to her companions. “Gather your belongings, ladies. We’re not wanted here, and I’ll not be a part of making the pastor’s home into a gaudy facsimile of how a genteel home should appear.”

Justin stood helpless as Winifred, Martha, Caroline, and the other ladies who were members of the first contingency pinned their hats in place, yanked their parasols from the umbrella stand, and marched out the front door with the same vigor and determination with which they’d entered earlier.

“Now let’s get started in the dining room,” Cecile said to her collaborators.

Reggie tugged on her father’s sleeve. “Are you going to let them continue changing things around? Soon another group will show up and then another.”

Justin shrugged in confusion. “There’s no way to stop them. You know I’ve already tried.”

“Well, these ladies wouldn’t get away with this in Mrs. Brighton’s house. Sometimes the girls try to rearrange the furniture in the parlor or dining room, but Mrs. Brighton puts her foot down and immediately calls a halt to such activity. She would never allow such behavior in
her
house.”

“It’s too bad Mrs. Brighton isn’t here right now,” he said wearily. “Perhaps she would help us do the same. I believe I’ll go make sure the door to my study is locked. I don’t want them in there rearranging my books.”

Justin searched for his daughter a short time later, thinking perhaps the two of them should take their fishing poles and head off to the river. If the good church ladies were determined to occupy his house, then he and Reggie might as well enjoy themselves for the remainder of the day. But Reggie was nowhere to be found. Finally he remembered the secret opening in her upstairs closet and thought maybe she’d gone to hide in her room.

“Reggie?” He knocked on the door before entering her room, but she wasn’t there and the secret opening in the floor was securely covered.

He sat down on her bed but jumped to his feet when a burst of commotion erupted from downstairs. He hurried down the steps and stopped in the hallway. Elinor Brighton was standing beside Reggie, loudly clapping her hands.

“Ladies! Give me your immediate attention,” she commanded in an urgent tone before once again clapping her hands together.

A distinct look of irritation crossed Cecile’s face. “What is it?” she asked.