A Daughter's Quest (18 page)

“Actually, I need to tell the two of you something.” Constance gestured toward Jackson and Mary as she spoke.

Jackson leaned back in his chair and gave her his full attention. “As a pastor or as a friend?”

“Both, I think.” Constance stood and started gathering her silverware onto her plate. “I’ll help Mary with the dishes; then we can talk.”

Mary touched her arm. “No, you won’t. The dishes can wait.” She stood. “Let’s go into the parlor. It will be more comfortable in there.”

Even though Constance tried to change Mary’s mind, it didn’t work.

Once in the other room, Constance sat in a straight-backed chair. Mary and Jackson took places on the sofa, and he placed his arm around his wife. Hans took the chair that matched the one where Constance sat. He wished he were closer to her, so he could give her moral support, but maybe this way was better.

For a few minutes, Constance told them all she had said to him and the sheriff. Jackson and Mary looked intrigued.

“That’s some story,” Jackson said as soon as she finished. “Do you really think there is gold out there at the farm?”

Constance took a deep breath. “I’m not so sure after what Sheriff Morton said. I think I’ve done all I can about the gold.”

Relief shot through Hans. He had hoped she wouldn’t let the search consume too much of her life. He agreed with Andrew. If the gold really was stolen, he didn’t think it was anywhere near Browning City or the Mitchell farm.

Jackson continued to study Constance. “But you’re not satisfied with your quest, are you?”

“No.” She rubbed her palms together. “I want to be sure that Jim Mitchell is really dead. If he isn’t, I need to continue to search for him.”

“Didn’t you say Andrew would take you sometime next week?” Compassion filled Mary’s face and her tone.

“Yes.” Constance sounded hesitant. “But I really wanted to go before then.”

She gazed at Hans, and he felt her expression travel straight to his heart. He wanted to ease her burden in any way he could.

“I told her I could escort her to Camden Junction, but we have one problem.”

“What problem?” Constance sounded surprised.

“Well, it’s at least a five-hour journey on horseback. A buggy would take even longer. We couldn’t make it there and back in one day.”

Constance looked puzzled. Her expression changed the moment she realized what he was getting at. “Oh, even if we had separate rooms at the hotel, it might not look right.” Her voice had a catch in it, and she looked discouraged.

Mary gave a soft clap. “I have a wonderful idea. My parents live in Camden Junction. Father is the doctor, and they have a large house. I’m sure they would be glad for Constance to stay with them. I want to send Mother some vegetables from the Community Garden. This would be a good opportunity. I could write Mother a note for you to take with you.”

Hans watched Constance’s expression while her friend talked. By the time Mary finished, hope had replaced the look of discouragement.

“I think that is a good idea, Constance.” When he spoke, she turned a grateful expression toward him. “When would you like to go?”

“I can’t go tomorrow because I was gone from the boarding-house kitchen today.” Constance looked thoughtful for a moment. “I could bake double everything tomorrow, and we could go the next day.” She smiled at him. “If you aren’t too busy, Hans.”

He would never get tired of hearing her speak his name. This time it came out softly with great emotion, rendering him speechless.

Just as Mary had said, her parents welcomed Constance into their home with open arms. She would have known Mrs. Carter was Mary’s mother without having been told. They looked just alike and more like sisters than mother and daughter.

Even though they arrived mid-afternoon and the Carters weren’t expecting them, Mary’s mother insisted on feeding them right away. While Hans took care of the horses in the barn behind the house and Constance freshened up in a bedroom on the second story, Mrs. Carter must have been busy. When Constance came down the stairs, a cold feast spread out across the table in the dining room.

A knock sounded on the back door.

“Oh dear, I hope it’s not someone coming to take Doc away from us right when we want to get acquainted with Jackson and Mary’s friends.” Mrs. Carter wiped her hands on a tea towel and stuck the end of it in her apron pocket before opening the door. “Come on in, Mr. Van de Kieft. You didn’t have to knock.”

“Hans.” He still held his hat in his hand. “Please, call me Hans.”

Constance watched him from the doorway. She could tell that his smile captivated Mrs. Carter almost as much as it did her.

“Of course, Hans. I hope you’re hungry.” Mary’s mother bustled over to the cabinet and picked up a tray that contained thick slices of ham and some kind of cheese.

The table already held a platter of some kind of bread. It was darker than any Constance had ever made. Maybe Mrs. Carter would give her the recipe before they went back home.

A crock of homemade pickles added a piquant air to the room. A hint of spices, vinegar, and even sweetness. Sliced tomatoes and onions covered another plate. Constance hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she looked at all the food.

The doctor returned from his office in the front of the large first floor, and they all sat down to eat. After he blessed their food, Mrs. Carter passed each plate to Constance first, then to Hans. He must have been hungrier than she was, because soon his plate was piled high.

Conversation flowed freely here, just as it did at Jackson and Mary’s house. After the Carters asked several questions about their daughter and her husband, they moved on to getting to know Hans and Constance.

When Mrs. Carter found out that all of Constance’s family was gone, she patted Constance’s hand. “We’ll just have to make you a part of our family.”

Constance almost felt like another daughter, filling a void she hadn’t known existed in her heart.

At the end of the meal, Hans pushed back his chair. “I think I’ll go and see about a room at the hotel.”

“A fine meal, my dear.” Dr. Carter patted his stomach before turning toward Hans. “You don’t have to do that. We have plenty of bedrooms.”

Red suffused Hans’s cheeks, and he cleared his throat. “Thank you for your kindness, but it would be better for Constance’s reputation if I went to the hotel.”

Constance widened her eyes. She hadn’t thought about where Hans would sleep. The man was amazing—always thinking about her. Her heart fluttered at the thought. If only she was more than a friend to him.

“After you return, Hans”—Constance looked down at her hands—“do you think we could go to the cemetery? I’d like to get that taken care of today.”

He nodded and turned to go. “I’ll be back soon.” He spoke over his shoulder.

Hans hurried in the direction the doctor had told him. Constance had reacted to his comment about her reputation, but he didn’t know why. Would he ever understand women, especially Constance?

After obtaining a room for the night, he went to the sheriff’s office. That would be a good place to find out about what had happened.

It wasn’t a pretty story. The Mitchell brothers did indeed start sowing wild oats after their parents died. He wondered if that loss was the root cause of their wild living or if the war had affected Jim too much. Whichever it was, both brothers had been buried at the back of the cemetery away from the churchyard. Plain wooden crosses marked the place, and their names had been painted on the crossbars with black paint. Already the letters looked weathered. Sometime soon, they would be completely obliterated. What a waste of two lives.

Hans really didn’t want to bring Constance here, but he knew she wouldn’t rest easy until she saw the graves for herself. He hoped it would end her need to follow her quest.

He went back to the Carters’ house to get Constance. When they returned to the cemetery, she stood for a long time just staring at the plain crosses. Then, to his surprise, she dropped to her knees in the grass beside Jim Mitchell’s grave.

She clasped her hands in front of her. “Mr. Mitchell, I’m so sorry my father didn’t come to see you sooner. I wish he had. Maybe your life wouldn’t have ended like this. He wanted to tell you about your need for God. When he couldn’t come because he was too sick, he asked me to tell you. But we both failed. I hope someone else told you about God before you died.”

The last few words were so faint that Hans could hardly make them out. Constance stayed in that position for a few moments; then she started to cry. At first, tears made their quiet way down her cheeks, but soon she sniffled and then sobbed. Hans felt as if his heart were breaking. He couldn’t leave her there, so he pulled her up and into his arms, cradling her against his chest.

She continued to cry for a long time. All the while, Hans held her tight with one arm and gave her comforting strokes on her back with the other hand. He occasionally murmured what he hoped were comforting words. The rest of the time, he prayed silently for her sorrow and pain to be eased. How he wished he had the right to do more.

The next day when Constance and Hans arrived back in Browning City, they went straight to the parsonage. Hans helped her down from the wagon seat and handed her several packages wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine. She started up the walkway, and he picked up the last four bundles left in the back of the wagon.

He caught up with her halfway to the house. “I’ll take your carpetbag by the boardinghouse before I return the wagon to the livery.”

She smiled up at him. “Thanks. I want to spend a while with Mary if she’s not busy.”

He nodded. “She’ll want you to be there when she opens all these parcels from her mother.”

“Yes, she probably will.” Constance stepped up on the porch. “I’ve missed being with Mary. It’s been more than four days since we spent any time alone. We have a lot to talk about.”

“I’m sure you do.” The twinkle in his eyes carried over to the tone of his voice.

Maybe it was time for her to talk to Mary about her feelings for Hans…or maybe not. She’d see how the afternoon progressed.

Mary opened the door after Hans knocked. Her eyes widened when she saw all the packages in their arms. “Come in.” She stepped back and pulled the door farther open.

“Where do you want us to put these?” Constance smiled at Mary’s look of bewilderment.

“What are they?”

“We’re not sure. Your mother gave them to us just before we left this morning…along with a basket of food for us to eat on the way home. It was enough to feed an army.” Constance glanced toward the parlor. “Do you want these in there or on the table in the kitchen?”

Hans stood quietly and listened to the exchange. Constance welcomed his presence but knew she would wait until he was gone before she asked Mary all the questions that were whirling in her brain.

Mary turned back toward the kitchen. “Let’s put them on the table. Then we can spread out all the items and see what they are.”

Hans dropped the ones he carried beside hers on the shiny wooden surface. “I need to get to the smithy and see if I’ve missed anyone. If I’m not there, they just tack a note up on the door.” He turned toward Constance. “Would you like me to come back and pick you up to go to the boardinghouse?”

She smiled at him. “Thank you, Hans, but no. I’ve ridden more miles than I want to remember in the last few days. The walk will do me good.”

Mary went to the door with him, but soon returned. “Let’s see what Mother sent. I can hardly wait. Why don’t you open some of them while I open the others?”

She sounded like a child at Christmas. Of course, no one Constance knew ever had this many presents at that holiday.

Constance started trying to untie the knot on the bundle closest to her. The knot resisted, and she became frustrated with her efforts.

“Do it like this.” Mary pulled the twine around one corner, then off the package.

As the paper from each bundle unfolded, the two women ooed and aahed. Baby gowns, blankets, knitted hats, sweaters, booties, safety pins that people had started using on diapers, and hemmed flannel diapers spread across the table. The last parcel contained a soft cotton nightgown and robe for Mary. Pink embroidered roses clung to vines that climbed all the way up the front of both garments.

Tears sprang to Mary’s eyes. “Mother must have started working on these as soon as we let them know that we were going to have a baby.”

“They’re wonderful.” Constance knew that the tiny stitches had taken a lot of work. “Your mother really loves you, and she already loves her grandchild.”

After Constance helped Mary take the items up to the bedroom that was being turned into a nursery, the women returned to the kitchen for a cup of tea. Mary asked all about the trip, and Constance gladly told her the many details. They each drank two more cups of tea before they were through discussing the subject.

“You have something else on your mind, don’t you?” Mary’s perceptive question caught Constance off guard.

“Yes. I want to ask you about a thing that happened the day I went out to the farm, when Hans came and helped me fill in the holes.”