Bright Morning Star (3 page)

There was a lot of arguing from the Lambton’s wagon each evening, then a lot of crying and pleading from Bella. Everyone looked uncomfortable around the battling couple, waiting for the storm to pass. Nearly two weeks after leaving Boston, Henry shared what was upsetting his wife.

“Bella wanted to stop in New Rochelle seeing her parents. She’s afraid she might never get to see them again if we don’t stop now. But it will mean about a four hour delay in our trek across country, and the trip’s long enough. I’ve tried to convince her it’s not fair to the group, but Bella doesn’t care about inconveniencing everyone else.”

The Wimberleys stared at him in disbelief. Claire felt a little tremble in her own heart. What if it were her parents? What if it were her last chance for a kiss or hug from them? Henry was still talking.

“Well, I’ve agreed to stop. We’ll just keep moving when you make camp. And then the next morning, we’ll hustle. Try to catch up with you in the next day or two,” he said.

Robert Wimberley looked speechless for a moment, then shook his head. “No need for all that. We’ll stick together. Sleeping with the wagons, we can go anywhere. Tell Bella we’re happy to stop. Looking forward to meeting her parents.”

The change in Bella was remarkable. The next day she was all smiles, rushing to help the other women with the cooking, fussing over what she should wear for the visit. Claire could not remember when the woman had looked happier or prettier. Even the first day of their big sale at the old store had not affected her as much.

The happier Bella became, the more attentive and kindly Henry treated her. After seeing nothing but sparring between the couple before, Claire felt strangely betrayed by the sudden peace between them.

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Claire sat in her usual position on the wagon, behind the oxen and their smelly tails. She had her magazines on the bench beside her, but flipped through them restlessly.

Henry Lambton emerged from the woods, something held behind his back. Claire swiveled on the padded bench to look as soon as he walked past. When she saw he clutched a fistful of wild Iris, their purple blooms furled like organza over their blade-like leaves, her heart sank. This time she recognized it as jealousy.

By now it was a familiar ache. When she first went to work for the Lambtons, she had found Henry to be the first person who valued the things that she did. When she talked about fashion, everyone else tuned her out. Henry was interested in all things sartorial and fashionable. He appreciated her ideas for marketing their goods and listened when she suggested the store hold a sale. He asked for her advice when placing orders and pricing goods.

She had enjoyed this respect for her intelligence. Growing up being called goose, even by her best friends, it was a welcome change. Other than that, she thought nothing about Henry. He was nice, handsome, and well-mannered. But he was married.

True, Bella Lambton was a cold, angry woman. He deserved someone better, someone who respected and cared for him. Claire remembered the first time she realized she might have feelings for another woman’s husband.

As always, it was one of her friend who pointed it out to her. The Lambtons had a terrible row in the store and Bonnie had handed little Barney off to Claire to tend while she went up front to break up the fight.

Later, Bonnie had laughed when Claire looked offended. “I had no choice. I didn’t want my bosses to get into a donnybrook in the front of the store. Who would pay us then?”

Claire agreed. “They were having a terrible fight, weren’t they?”

“Aye, besides, I knew you worked wonders with children,” Bonnie said.

Claire looked surprised. She had thought it was Bonnie, who had the way with children, not her. Slowly she had admitted. “I’m just upset. If they want to argue about traveling west, why do it when we’re present? They had all night and morning without us.”

“It sounds like he was telling you their plans before he’d talked them over with her. It would make any woman mad, even you.”

“Those things she said about me, about Henry wanting to follow me. It’s not true, there’s nothing between us. He has never shown any interest in me by word or action.”

“You sound unsure if that’s good or bad? Have you taken a fancy to her husband?”

Claire had stomped off and ignored her friend the rest of the way home, but all night she had gone over her reactions.

The next morning she had decided to skip work and never see him again. Although she loved working in the lovely little boutique, she was determined to quit.

Then Bonnie had once again given her a talk. Bonnie was in a race to go say goodbye to her brothers, Ian and Sean. As usual, she was telling Claire what to do. She had made Claire see she had a duty to her parents. Her father was counting on Henry to buy a pair of wagons and join them on the trek west. Besides, if she stayed home to cry, Bella would know she had been right.

Ever since that day, she had prayed that it was not so, and done all in her power to avoid the man. But on a wagon train headed west, with miles and days to go along together, it was difficult. In a party of ten people, there was no way to ignore or avoid the man entirely.

She was careful. There had been no more long discussions about fashion. Although he would occasionally ask her opinion and she would give it. She made sure they were with the rest of the group when they talked. Claire always sat beside her parents while he sat beside Bella, or on a separate bench with the twins.

At night, she read the Bible to Mary Anne and tried to keep her thoughts pure. It worked, until she would see him the next day, struggling with his team, and he would give her his warm friendly smile. She couldn’t help her feelings, she would smile back. Honestly, she smiled at everyone. But then she wondered what it would be like to kiss such a handsome man. Would his mustache tickle? That was when she would worry her beads and pray.

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Mary Anne repeated her name. Claire shook her head and looked down, as the nimble girl timed the wheel’s turn and scampered up onto the seat beside her. Claire managed to move the magazines in time.

“What is it poppet? Did you finally find a snake of your own?”

Mary Anne shook her head, her eyes suddenly very big. “No, Father Wimberley warned me that the ones from here west are poisonous. There’s rattlesnakes, and copperheads, and moccasins, and…cobras, or some more like that, I don’t remember them all. I don’t dare look any more.”

Claire shuddered and extended her arm to pull the shivering little girl closer. “Thank goodness for that. What is it than, that you’ve got behind your back?”

Mary Anne brought the flower out triumphantly and waved it at Claire. For a moment, Claire felt as pierced as if she had jabbed her with one of the blade-like leaves. Closing her eyes for a second, she managed to transform her reaction. She opened her eyes wide and exclaimed, “My how beautiful.”

“I know, Bella gave it to me, and she told me its story.”

Claire looked dubious. “Your flower has a story?”

“Yes, the Iris is one of the bravest flowers. It pierces the soil in the spring, and unfurls its banner. That’s why many people call it a flag. That way all the other flowers and animals know it’s truly spring,” Mary Anne parroted Bella’s voice. Like all the McKinneys, the little girl could imitate anyone. Like Lynne, she had the same high, sweet voice. Claire could sing, at least a lot better than Bonnie. But she had never been able to sing the lead stanzas in church like Lynne.

Claire rolled her eyes, reached out to touch the flower which was already looking wilted. “I’m not sure the daffodil would agree with Bella.”

Mary Anne smiled and sighed, taking a deep scent of the purple petals. “I know, but she was so happy, I pretended to believe it was a real story, not one she just made up. She’s good at telling stories.”

Claire gave the child another squeeze and brushed her hair back so she could stare into the serious gray eyes. For just a second, she imagined it was Lynne, not her little sister. They were both so much alike, serious, wise, and always kind. Claire gave her a soft kiss on the brow before releasing her. Minutes later, the little girl was gone. Doubtless, to share the flower and tale with Mother, maybe even her brothers.

They arrived at the large home of Bella’s parents in New Rochelle early in the afternoon. Claire was shocked by the size and grandeur of the federal style brick mansion. There was a small stream across the land that divided the shoreline view from the house. In minutes, the wagons were parked diagonally, each open to the breeze off the water. Claire climbed down, looked across to where Henry was helping his wife down. In amazement she watched him step up on the side of the wagon to retrieve little Barney. He had always shown as much aversion for the boy as Claire felt.

Claire stared, hoping the boy wouldn’t drool over Henry’s best suit, but he quickly handed the child to his wife. Claire welcomed Mary Anne’s small hand in hers as they walked behind their wagon and up to where her father and the boys were unhitching the first team of animals.

An elderly couple appeared at the big door of the house, then ran down the steps and across the lawn to a small footbridge. Bella raced up her side and they met in the center on top over the stream.

All the Wimberleys exchanged a warm glance at the heart-felt embraces. Claire couldn’t help it, she snuffled a little as she stepped into her mother’s arms. They folded Mary Anne between their full skirts.

Henry walked onto the bridge and the three stopped their tearful hugs. Firmly, but politely Bella’s father shook her husband’s hand. From where they stood, they heard Bella’s mother. Her voice sounded just like Bella’s as they welcomed their daughter’s husband home.

Nervously, as a last thought, Bella introduced her son, but his grandparents were moving away, talking enthusiastically to her about how glad they were to have company.

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Finally, they were all inside. Bella’s parents had insisted that they use the bedrooms instead of the wagons. Father Wimberley and the boys refused the offer, insisting they’d rather be outside near the cattle. One of the maids rushed to show the girls their rooms before rushing back to the kitchen. Claire and Bonnie would share the room beside Bella and Henry. The Wimberleys had a room at the end of the hall. Mary Anne was going to share the bed with Claire and Bonnie.

The children were in awe of all the beautiful things displayed throughout the house. No wonder Bella seemed driven. She was used to a different kind of life. Before, Claire had felt wealthy. Now she saw that they were merely middle-classed people. But Bella’s father seemed to have an instant rapport with Robert Wimberley. Perhaps it was that Father had owned a factory, or that he was still willing to set out across the country on an adventure. The two men had immediately disappeared into his library to talk about the western frontier.

There was a little flurry as the cook rushed to prepare food for so many guests. Bonnie and Elizabeth Wimberley volunteered to help in the kitchen, but Mrs. Switzer refused to hear of it. Claire settled in the small parlor with the Lambton’s and Bella’s mother. She was glad when Bonnie and her Mother joined her, although Bonnie looked as though she were sitting on a pile of nettles instead of the lovely horse-hair stuffed sofa.

Henry looked even more uncomfortable than Bonnie in the room full of women. Claire was disappointed that Father and Bella’s father had excluded him. After a few minutes of being ignored by his wife and mother-in-law, he excused himself to go keep an eye on the children. Of course he didn’t mean Barney. The small boy was sitting big eyed at the foot of his mother, looking from her to his grandmother and back. It made Claire smile, it was so clear he was working it out for himself.

The two were remarkably similar. Claire knew she looked like her own mother. Well, Mother was a little older and plumper, and didn’t worry about her appearance as much, but their eyes, nose, and cheeks were similar. Bella and her mother were both raven haired and dark eyed. If anything, her mother was even darker than Bella, with eyes that were nearly black. Although Bella was a tiny, thin woman, her mother was even thinner. They were both all sharp angles and shrill voices and seemed to have forgotten everything and everyone but each other.

Claire had to contain her sigh of relief when the cook finally had the maid call everyone into the dining room.

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Perhaps the most impressive room to Claire was the large dining room. All the furniture was waxed and polished mahogany, highly carved and massive. It gleamed under the lit chandelier. The table was set for twelve with matching, gold rimmed china and gold lipped glassware. Remarkably, the glass-fronted, china cabinet still held more dishes. The food had been set out on a huge sideboard. It all smelled strange and delicious.

After Mrs. Switzer assigned everyone a place, she directed them to carry and fill a plate, with orders for the children to go first.

The same maid who had freshened the beds and shown them to their rooms, stood patiently answering questions and helping the children. There was plain meat, cold mutton, neatly sliced. There were an array of vegetable dishes, stewed or pickled, but all familiar. There was some thin sliced, hard brown bread which the girl offered to spread with soft cheese or butter for the three older children. There was a hot dish of cabbage rolls. Bella managed a small plate and filled it carefully for Barney.

Claire smiled at Bonnie at the strange way of serving guests, but both eagerly took their place in line. The food smelled good and tasted great. Bella’s mother had seated her daughter at her right, Mother Wimberley on her left and the girl’s and children beside her. The men and boys she seated at the opposite end, flanking her husband.

Claire studied Bella’s parents. They did not look old, but they acted older than her own parents. They were cordial to Henry, but it was clear they did not know what to say to him. The same was true for little Barney.

During dinner, Bella whispered to get her mother to look at her grandson. Barney sat listening in his mother’s lap, watching Mary Anne sing him a lullaby. When Mary would stop he would make little crooning sounds back to her. His eyes were shining with love and there was always a smile on his face. The women watching sat silently, until Bella’s mother reached out to touch him for the first time. Smiling through their tears, mother and daughter hugged.

At the other end of the table, Bella’s Father and Henry were smiling at the women when Henry said something that made the man turn to stare at him.

“What do you mean you sold the store? That was not in our agreement.”

Bella’s mother stared at the man, her face as amazed as her husbands. Suddenly there was a loud and noisy argument. It was easy for Claire to see where Bella learned to yell and complain.

The Wimberley’s stood hastily, and made their apologies before withdrawing for the night out to the wagons, leaving the family to work out their disagreements, urging the children outside with them. Claire and Bonnie crept upstairs. The argument was fierce now and little Barney, the only child present, was crying. Bonnie made a face at her, but Claire remained by the door, holding it open a crack so she could continue to listen.

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Her parents were furious that Bella sold the store without letting them know. Claire heard Bella’s mother yell. “We could have bought it back. You knew your father was struggling now that the bank has failed.”

Claire felt her own body tremble when Bella didn’t answer. When Bella couldn’t defend herself, Henry took over.

“It was just a matter of time before we lost the business. You don’t understand how difficult it is to run a store when the city’s commerce is shrinking all around you.”

Now there was nothing but silence, which was worse than all the yelling. Slowly, Henry continued.

“We’ve most of our stock in the wagons, and when we get out West, I expect we’ll be able to sell it all for a large profit. Then we can repay you.”

For a moment, Claire leaned her head against the door frame. Oh lord, it sounded like… she didn’t let herself complete the thought, just turned to where Bonnie was standing in her petticoat, busy washing before bed. She wanted Bonnie to tell her what she thought it meant, but if the tall girl had heard, she didn’t react. Maybe it wasn’t important to her. As the Switzers continued to scream and yell, she tried not to hear all the mean things they were saying about Henry.

As she heard the Lambtons storming out of the dining room, Claire quietly closed the door. Again, she looked at Bonnie, hoping for reassurance that she had misheard part of the conversation. Bonnie was humming a hymn to herself, in her big, vibrating voice. Claire stood with her hand on the cold glass of the doorknob behind her and prayed.

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Claire took her time at getting ready for bed, surprised at how good it felt to have the luxury of a big lamp like the blown painted globe one on the washstand. Bonnie had emptied and rinsed the bowl and the pitcher was still half-full of clean water. Such luxuries. There was also a large mirror and she tilted her head, trying not to feel vain at her own image. She was wringing out her washcloth when she heard the door next door slam. She watched the center of her own eyes grow blacker as for a minute there was silence.

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She had just climbed into bed beside her friend when they heard the angry whispers through the surprisingly thin walls.

As soon as Bella joined Henry in their bedroom, their argument began in fierce, deadly whispers. “I just learned you didn’t do what you promised. You didn’t send my father part of the money we owe them. I insist we at least pay back half. That will leave each of us with the same amount of money, and our debt will be cut in half.”

Henry said, “I don’t owe them. It wasn’t a loan, but your dowry that they gave us. We need that money. It’s a long way to Utah, and we’ve no idea what the expenses will be.”

Bella’s voice wasn’t a whisper. “And if we’re robbed, then we won’t have the money and we’ll still owe all the debt. What will you say then?”

He didn’t answer. They even heard the whoosh as he snuffed out the lamp. From the corner of the next room, they heard Barney whine. The angry silence was worse than hearing all the angry words.

Claire trembled and tried to see Bonnie’s eyes in the dark. Bonnie must have sensed her staring for she muttered. “At least he didn’t hit her, Tarn would have split my lip if I’d raised my voice like that to him.”

They heard a soft knock on the door and Bonnie called. “It’s open.”

Mary Anne slipped in, running across the floor. She already had on her nightgown, and her shoes without socks. Claire heard the thud of the first shoe, waited for the other. Next door, they heard the boy cry and the sound of his mother getting up to tend to him. Claire raised the covers and let the small girl slip between them.

Mary Anne took a few minutes to get settled, sighing with pleasure. “Wow, isn’t this heavenly.”

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Claire tried to relax and fall asleep. The mattress was soft and thick, the support underneath more than a few slats, since it did not sag under all their weight. Even with three in the bed, she didn’t feel crowded.

There was only a glimmer of moonlight through the long window and its thick velvet drapes. She couldn’t see the furniture, guessed it was dark like the kitchen furniture, large, and heavily carved. Claire focused on a tiny strip of the wall-paper, the trail of vines with morning glories if she remembered right. In the dark, there was only a pattern of grays on white. She thought there were three colors of blooms, blue, violet, and rose. She tried to guess by the depth of gray, which flower was which color.

Even as she heard the deep breathing of the two beside her, she made herself focus on the paper as one tear after another dripped off her cheeks onto the downy pillow. In the silence, she heard a door open and close. She couldn’t hear the footsteps, they were so soft.

For one wild minute, she imagined another tap on the door. Bit her lower lip to keep from calling out come in. But the image of the handsome man slipping into the room and into her arms for comfort would not disappear. Claire eased out of the warm bed onto the cold floor. Kneeling, she raised her hands together and bowed her head, but she heard another door open down at the other end of the hall.

Bella had slipped in to talk to her parents. Claire turned her beads and breathed her prayers.