Lanterns and Lace (6 page)

Something was wrong with Jenny. Grant saw the troubled look on her face the moment she turned away from Turner. The man smiled as though engaging her in a delightful conversation. Grant hadn’t gotten to her and Rebecca fast enough before Turner approached them. Had they quarreled? In any event, he wanted his daughter away from both of them.

“I’ll take my daughter.” Grant bent to lift Rebecca up into his arms. “Now you two can talk without any disturbance.”

“She’s not a problem—” Jenny stopped her sentence in midair. “I’d like to join you.” She nodded at Turner and walked alongside Grant.

Fury consumed Grant, and he recognized a mixture of protectiveness and jealousy. “I don’t want my daughter in the middle of your personal affairs,” he whispered.

“What are you talking about?”

“Your traveling companion.”

She paled. “I do not know the man. He approached me on the train when I fell.”

Grant grasped at a need to control his temper. He was in church, in the presence of God, his family, and friends. He sat on a pew with Morgan and Casey and placed Rebecca on his lap. He took a few deep breaths while he sensed Jenny’s gaze on him. “I don’t appreciate lies. Turner told me about your plans to find information about Jessica.”

“And I’m telling you that I never met the man until I fainted a few days ago. But . . .” She hesitated.

“What?” If he didn’t end this conversation, their whispers would arouse attention.

“He says he’s a friend of Jessica’s. Just now he said they’d been engaged.”

Rebecca. Surely Aubrey Turner is not the father. “We’ll talk later.”

“I don’t think so, Dr. Andrews.”

Before Grant had an opportunity to question her further, the introduction to the first hymn of the evening filled the air. An off-key chord struck his bad mood. In the next instant, Jenny left the pew, and he had no desire to chase after her.

*****

Jenny made her way from the church and down the road toward the boardinghouse. She’d not stay another night with the pompous, self-righteous Dr. Andrews. How dare he think she’d traveled with Mr. Turner? And how dare Mr. Turner tell Grant some absurd story about the two searching for information about Jessica.

Why did Mr. Turner make it a point to tell Grant such falsehoods? Alarm swept over her. The strong possibility of Mr. Turner following her from Ohio nearly paralyzed her. Could the man be a Pinkerton agent? Or was he Rebecca’s father and wished to claim her? But that didn’t explain the lies. Unscrupulous described Turner’s tactics, yet he claimed he and Jessica had been engaged.

“Miss Martin, Jenny.”

She recognized the voice, and it did not comfort her trepidation. “Leave me alone, Mr. Turner.”

“You need an escort. It’s not safe or proper for you to be out here alone. Put aside your distrust of me, and let me be a gentleman.”

“It’s not dark, and I’d rather be alone.” Her heart pounded against her chest.

He made his way alongside her. “Can’t we be friends? After all, we came here for the same reason.”

“You have no idea why I’m here, and furthermore, it’s none of your concern.”

He laughed. “You have the same fire that attracted me to Jessica.”

She stopped in the middle of the road and spun toward him. “If you don’t leave me alone this instant, I will scream.”

“No need to take those measures.” He smiled, rather sadly. “Tell me about Jessica’s daughter. How old is she?”

“That is none of your business. I will scream.”

He shook his head. “Please, I’m not an enemy. I understand you don’t know me well, but I do want to be of assistance.”

“No, thank you.”

“We will talk in the future. You can rest assured of that.”

She walked away, leaving him behind. Trembling took over her body, and she feared her legs would not carry her the rest of the way to the boardinghouse. Unless she had misunderstood, Turner had threatened her. Informing the sheriff offered no consolation, for Sheriff Ben Kahler was married to Grant’s sister. And Jenny refused to leave town. This gave her no other choice but to take care of matters herself.

At the boardinghouse she registered with a shaky hand and paid a week in advance to the proprietor, Mr. Harold Snyder. Everything smelled heavily of fried pork, her least favorite of meats. Grant’s home smelled of freshness with open windows and vases of fresh roses.

“How long will you need a room?” Mr. Snyder was a thin fellow with a long, pointed nose.

“I’m not sure,” she said. “May I pay you each week until I make a decision?”

“Very well.” Mr. Snyder seemed pleased. “The second floor is for the ladies. You will be in room four, up the stairs and at the end of the hall. Breakfast is served at seven, dinner at noon, and supper at six.”

She followed the man upstairs. The establishment looked clean, and she heard no noise. Mr. Snyder unlocked a small room that looked a bit shabby in comparison to the charming bedroom at the doctor’s home.

“Thank you, sir,” she said as his long, bony fingers handed her the key. “This will do quite nicely.” Once he left, she raised a window to air out the stale smell tarrying from the previous guest.

She considered the room’s basic furnishings: a single iron bed, an oak washstand complete with a basin and pitcher, a dresser and mirror, a small armoire, and a well-worn chair in a faded gold fabric. A threadbare quilt lay across the bed, and blinds covered the window. But it was clean.

Jenny removed her hat and lay across the bed. Too many things wrestled with her mind. She must consider a new plan to secure Rebecca since the good doctor was not married, as she had originally hoped. Neither did he have a houseful of children and want to give her up. She shouldn’t allow the kindness of the Andrews family or their love for Rebecca to stand in her way. Her niece deserved to be with her own family.

Just as she drifted off to sleep, a knock at the door startled her. “Miss Martin, you have a visitor in the lobby,” Mr. Snyder said.

“Who is it?”

“Doc Andrews.”

Jenny fumed. “I have no need of a physician. Not now or ever. You may give him that message.”

*****

Monday afternoon while Rebecca took her nap, Grant had calmed down enough to take his adoption papers to Morgan for his inspection and then to pay one last call on Jenny. His mother’s words still rang in his ears: You should have gone after her when she left church. But when he whirled around to check on Jenny, Turner had followed her. Grant figured the two deserved each other. Although that wasn’t much of a Christian thought for a man sitting in church, he had to confess to honest feelings. For some reason, Jenny Martin brought out the worst in him.

Maybe he wasn’t a good father at all. Maybe Rebecca needed Jenny as a substitute for a mother. Maybe he was just plain selfish in wanting to keep his little daughter. He clenched his jaw. Maybe he needed to stop doubting himself.

Grant made his way down the street to his brother’s law office. He had Rebecca’s adoption papers in his hand and a heavy weight in his heart. Two people had interrupted his otherwise peaceful life—Jenny Martin and Aubrey Turner. Jenny wanted his daughter, and Turner—well, Grant prayed he was not Rebecca’s father.

Moments later he observed his brother painstakingly examining each document in Rebecca’s adoption file. The only sound came from the steady tick-tock of a mahogany wall clock mounted behind Morgan’s desk. Grant checked the hour, then read for the third time his brother’s law degree hanging on an adjacent wall. His attention moved across the room to the titles of law books stacked precariously on a bookcase beneath the clock.

His patience wavering, Grant studied the lines etched on Morgan’s brow. He appeared so deeply immersed in the papers before him that he failed to acknowledge the pair of eyes scrutinizing him. Grant pulled a pen from inside his jacket and scribbled the name Jenny Martin on a pad of paper before him. Beneath her name, he wrote Rebecca Faith Andrews and her birthday. He drummed the pen on the top of the mahogany desk. His brother glanced up and shook his head.

“Must you always make some sort of noise?” Amusement flashed from Morgan’s eyes.

Grant smiled and ceased the tapping. “Only when impatient, nervous, or biding time.”

“Which is it today?”

“Probably all three.” He capped his pen and dropped it inside his jacket pocket in an attempt to soothe his battered nerves.

His brother peered over the pad of paper. “What is bothering you the most, Jenny Martin or Aubrey Turner?”

“Both.”

“And?”

Grant chuckled despite his restless demeanor. The entire family knew he never revealed personal information unless coaxed and prodded beyond any logical understanding. “I have neglected to tell you a few things about Miss Martin.”

Morgan closed the file and settled back in his brown leather chair. “I’m listening, Grant. I’ll admit the past few days have been a bit unusual, and I’ve wondered why Jessica’s family has waited all this time to seek out their daughter.”

“She wants Rebecca.”

“I wondered about that, but why now?”

“I’ve never gotten a clear answer other than she is the proper guardian and something about her parents grieving over Jessica.”

“Don’t you think you deserve a clear answer?”

“I’m heading over to the boardinghouse right now.”

“Is that why you two quarreled last night at church?”

Grant shook his head. “That had to do with Aubrey Turner.”

“Would you just tell me the whole story? I feel like I’m trying to pry the truth out of a defendant—or worse yet, one of my kids.”

“He and Jenny are traveling companions, although she denies it.”

“And you’re sure about this?”

“He told me.”

Morgan leaned back in his chair. “I see. And you believe him over Jenny?”

Grant hesitated. “I’m so furious with Jenny’s reasons for coming here that I guess I want to believe him.”

“Are you thinking he might be Rebecca’s father?”

“I was until this morning.” Grant hesitated while he sorted out his thoughts. “He admitted never being here before, and Jessica worked at Martha’s a year and a half before she died. There’s no way he could be Rebecca’s father.” He blew out an exasperated sigh. “Unless he lied instead of Jenny. Last night seeing Jenny and Turner together with my daughter in the middle was a little more than I could handle.”

“Don’t blame you.”

Grant pointed at the adoption file. “Are the papers legal and binding?”

“Yes. I did draw them up, remember? The documents were and are according to the laws of the state, and they have all been properly executed. Now, there’s always a chance Miss Martin will hire a lawyer to obtain custody.”

Silence prevailed, deafening silence that prevailed over the incessant ticking of the clock. Grant paused awhile longer before speaking.

“I think if she’d considered a lawyer, she would have mentioned it. The thought has crossed my mind—more than once—that Jenny might elect to snatch her away, especially with the way I made her furious last night.”

“She’d be in bad shape with the law if she attempted that.”

Grant laughed, the first all day. “Guess I needed reassurance. All right, big brother, I’ll head over there now and face the lady.”

“Do you mind if I share any of this with Casey?”

“Go ahead. I need all the prayers I can get.”

“Glad you came by for another reason. I have a request.”

Grant knew what was coming by the glint in his brother’s eye. “Does this have anything to do with branding?”

“Possibly.” A grin spread over Morgan’s face. “We could use you on Saturday. You could stay until Sunday morning. Rebecca loves the ranch.”

Grant laughed. “So this is all for Rebecca?”

“Naturally. And it would give Mimi a break too. Nothing like hard work to cure what ails you.”

“I’m so glad you have other peoples’ interests at heart. All right. We’ll be there.”

The idea of spending a day at the ranch sounded like good medicine. He could sort through the problems with Jenny and Turner, then have a better perspective on Sunday. Perhaps Jenny would attend church and dinner again. If not, he’d ask her the next week.

He startled. How could he want Jenny to leave town and want her to stay at the same time? Had he lost his mind? The woman had been nothing but trouble. She knew nothing about being a Christian, much less acting like one. Still, when she smiled and he saw Rebecca in her, he wanted to get to know her a little more. Suddenly, Grant felt the whole situation with Jenny was nothing more than a minor irritation.

*****

Early that morning Jenny had requested Mr. Snyder send for her trunks at Grant’s home. As she placed her personal belongings in the drawers and the armoire, she realized Mr. Turner had become more of a threat to her plan than Grant. She understood Grant a little better than Mr. Turner. The latter frightened her with his knowledge about Jessica and the fact he must have followed her to Kahlerville.

She shivered in the rising warmth of the day. Her decision last night weighed heavily on her mind. When she finished unpacking, she’d do what was necessary.

Midmorning, Jenny ventured downstairs. Telltale smells from breakfast caused her stomach to rumble, but she needed to tend to her errand first. After obtaining directions from Mr. Snyder and being introduced to his kind wife, Cleo Ann, she stepped out into a day filled with heavy clouds. The scent of rain replaced the aroma of bacon and eggs from the boardinghouse. Maybe the rain would lower the ghastly heat.

Once in front of Kahler’s General Store, she studied the two large display windows. One had women’s goods and the other men’s. Neither window had what she needed. She glanced at the storefront and thought the owner had done a fairly good job, considering the small town. Inside, a bell tinkled, and an assortment of smells met her—coffee, leather, cinnamon, and an herb she didn’t recognize. Any other time, she’d have browsed through the store.

“Can I help you?” A rather round man smiled.

“Yes, sir. I’m looking for a small revolver.”

Grant left Morgan’s law office and headed to the boardinghouse, where he knew Jenny had taken up residence. The heaviness of dealing with her no longer plagued him. He imagined Jenny had gotten over her anger, and they’d be able to discuss their differences reasonably like adults.

He walked across the boardwalk in front of the general store and glanced inside the display window to see Jenny with Pete Kahler. He hesitated. Perhaps waiting outside for her made more sense than calling on her at the boardinghouse.

The moment she exited the store, he caught her attention. “Morning, Jenny. How are you doing?”

“Very well, until now.”

Ouch. “I was hoping we could talk.” She carried a purchase along with a drawstring bag draping from her wrist. “Would you like for me to carry your package?”

“That’s not necessary. I don’t want to talk, and I don’t need your help.”

A surge of anger snaked up his body, but he refused to let this little bit of a woman cause him to lose his temper again. “I think that if anyone should be angry in our situation, it should be me.”

“Oh? I don’t recall calling you a liar.”

“Are you still insisting that you and Aubrey Turner did not travel to Kahlerville together?”

“Yes. I repeat. I do not know the man.” A snippet of emotion edged her final word.

“Why would he tell me otherwise?” Grant almost believed her, or maybe he wanted to, which made no sense at all.

She drew in a quick breath. “Maybe he wants Rebecca.”

“Jenny, he couldn’t possibly be her father. He admitted never being in Kahlerville before, and Jessica lived here over a year and a half before she died.”

Her eyes moistened. “I . . . feared he might be. Why else would he follow me from Cleveland?”

“I have no idea.” Grant studied her a moment longer. “Are you frightened?”

Her lips quivered, and she pressed them together. “I’m not sure. The idea of Mr. Turner knowing things about me is a little disconcerting.”

“Do you want to talk to the sheriff—my brother-in-law?”

“Maybe. But not today.” She lifted her shoulders. “I must be going now.”

“May I check on you later?”

She shook her head. “No. It’s better this way.”

“If you change your mind, I’d like to introduce you to one of Jessica’s old friends.”

She turned in obvious interest. “I think I’d like that.”

“She knew Jessica better than anyone in this town.”

Jenny tilted her head in a charming manner. “My goodness. We’ve talked for five minutes without arguing. I’ll think about it all.” She nodded and walked away. With a swish of her skirts, she faced him. “Will I be allowed to see Rebecca?”

“I think we can do that.” He moved closer. “I’m very curious. Why didn’t your parents come with you?”

“They don’t know I’m here.” Jenny stared off down the street.

“Wouldn’t they worry about you? Or is that none of my business?”

She shook her head, fixing her eyes on the bank adjacent to the boardinghouse. “They think I’m traveling with friends in Boston.”

“You traveled all this distance without telling anyone where you were going?”

“You disapprove?” She faced him with a cold stare.

He arched a brow. “I just find it strange. What if something happened to you? Your parents would have lost two daughters.”

The pained look on Jenny’s face moved him. “My parents are difficult to understand. They never fully recovered when Jessica ran away from home. You see, when she deserted them and involved herself in . . . other activities, they grew bitter. If they had known about this trip, they would have disowned me.” Suddenly, she stiffened, and a slight gasp escaped her. “I must be going now.”

“Then exactly why do you want Rebecca?” Grant battled the turmoil inside him. The strength he found to contain his temper was certainly not his own. “Jenny, I want to understand you, and I want to be your friend.”

Her face blanched, and he viewed an endless array of emotions in her face. For a moment, Grant saw a weakening in her otherwise stoic facade.

“Talk to me,” he said softly. “Tell me why you feel compelled to take my daughter away from the only family she’s ever known.”

“I’m neither ready nor prepared to answer your questions. Besides, it’s very complicated.”

He wanted to believe this woman could be won over. Hadn’t he observed her enough times to believe her crusty exterior masked something entirely different? “I have plenty of time to listen.”

She focused on the goings-on in the street as though they held more fascination than their conversation. A mangy dog trotted past. “Not today,” she said. “They are my parents. I owe them a life free from pain.”

Grant heard the misery in her fragile voice. “That’s not possible. Life will always have its hurts and sorrows. Everything in this world is temporary. Only God can give us true peace and contentment—”

“Grant, I must try. They are all I have.”

Long moments followed. Grant realized he couldn’t make any further progress at the present, but today had been a beginning. “I guess I’ll be on my way,” he said. “I need to see Mama and the reverend before heading home.”

She forced a smile. “Of course. I’m really anxious to get settled. Thank you for the assistance and medical attention.” Jenny extended a gloved hand.

He grasped it lightly. “You’re welcome. And don’t forget, Mama invited you to spend next Sunday with us.”

“I’m not sure.” Jenny’s slender shoulders drooped momentarily. “I do appreciate the invitation, though.” She reached inside her drawstring bag. “I did write her and Reverend Rainer a note for yesterday. Would you be so kind as to deliver it for me?”

“Most certainly, and I’ll talk with you later on in the week about Sunday.” He accepted the note and deposited it inside his shirt pocket. “Let me know if you need anything.” He took a deep breath. “You are welcome to visit Rebecca as often as you wish, but she isn’t to leave the house without Mimi or me.”

He saw how his words cut through her like a jagged knife. Her lovely face visibly seethed with anger. “Are you merely being kind to me so that I’ll keep my behavior under control?” She shook. “Has all this talk about me being a part of your family just been a syrupy pretense?” She took a ragged breath. “Please, just leave me alone.”

Grant obliged, comprehending that more discussion inevitably invited an argument. Watching her leave, he questioned what kind of relationship Jenny shared with her parents—and she certainly did not know the Lord. Her sister lay buried, and he’d heard enough to perceive remorse on her part. Without Rebecca, she had no hope at all. All that remained for Jenny was the anticipation of having for her own, a brown-eyed little girl.

He shook his head and shuddered. Oh, heavenly Father, it appears that Jenny is using Rebecca as her savior. Show me how to help her find You.

Grant watched her disappear into the boardinghouse, bewildered at his response to her and frustrated that she’d ever come to town. But what role did Turner play in this? Could the man be a potential threat? Question upon question filled his head while he stood in the middle of the hot street.

He shrugged and thought he’d pick up a licorice stick or two inside the general store. The reverend shared the same fondness for the candy, and he wanted to make sure he had some in his pocket.

“Hey, Grant. How are you doing?” Pete said.

“Good, I guess. If I started complaining, I’d be here all day.” He lifted the lid from the licorice jar and pulled out a half dozen pieces.

“That little gal who just left here sure surprised me.”

“Why’s that?” Unless Pete had tasted Jenny’s temper.

“She just bought a revolver.”

*****

Jenny finished unpacking and walked downstairs to the boardinghouse’s dining room. She’d worked through the rest of the morning, making sure her belongings were put away neatly. For the moment, she felt optimistic about the future. Grant would allow her to see Rebecca, and she had a weapon to protect both the child and herself from Aubrey Turner.

She heard laughter and someone humming a nondescript tune. The sound of music always soothed her. The smell of chicken and dumplings made her mouth water. Life could be good. This had to be a positive omen.

The dining room looked inviting, not formal and sophisticated, but homey. Odd how her preferences had changed since leaving home. Mother and Father would never lower themselves to eat here. She smiled. She’d become a bit rebellious of late. The blue and white gingham tablecloths and curtains were faded but clean like her room upstairs. Jenny seated herself at a corner table and requested the chicken and dumplings from a woman who wore a pale blue sun bonnet.

“Are you having a good day, Miss Martin?” Aubrey Turner said.

Jenny’s heart raced. She had the revolver in her crochet and beaded reticule, but it wasn’t loaded. She needed someone to show her how to fill its chambers with bullets and fire it. “It’s a fine day, Mr. Turner.”

“May I join you?”

“Of course.” She forced a faint smile. No point in refusing him when she didn’t know his capabilities. Surely he’ll not harm me here. Or am I being foolish?

“What an honor.” He removed his hat and placed it on an empty chair. “Thank you for your company this afternoon. Are you satisfied with the boardinghouse?”

“So far I’m pleased with the services here.”

“Archibald and Jeanette would not agree, I’m sure.”

Did Jessica tell you our parents’ names? What do you want from me? “You’re quite right. They would be appalled.” She leaned closer. “What do you know about my sister?”

His violet eyes sparkled. “A beautiful woman. My love. My life.”

“You said you were engaged?”

He nodded. “We would have been married by now if she hadn’t left me.”

“Left you? Why? Excuse me if I’m prying into your affairs, but I need to understand how you met my sister and why she ended up here.”

His face softened. He reached to take her hand, but she pulled it back. “I’m sorry,” he said. “You look so much like Jessica that it’s impossible for me to gaze upon your exquisite features without remembering the love I had for your sister.”

“Can you tell me about her?”

He nodded. A young woman served their dinner and set two tall glasses of lemonade on the table. Once the young woman moved toward the kitchen, he gave her an engaging smile. No wonder Jessica was attracted to him.

“First of all, please call me Aubrey, and may I call you Jenny?”

“Certainly.” Jenny lifted the lemonade to her lips. She needed to learn more about this man, and befriending him seemed to be the only way.

“Jessica and I met in Cleveland. She was with friends, and I was quite captivated with her beauty. I’d barely gotten to know her before she became ill. Do you remember when she caught the measles and your parents feared her face might scar?” Concern etched his brow. “I missed her so during those weeks.”

Jenny cringed with yet another accurate accounting of her sister. She vividly remembered the two weeks Jessica lay in a darkened bedroom, tossing fitfully in a raging fever.

“Despite their worries, she only received a tiny scar below her left earlobe,” he continued. “Ah, but you, my dear, are as perfect as a freshly budded rose.”

Aubrey’s lavish compliments may have pleased Jessica, but Jenny found them repulsive. In the next few moments, he repeatedly praised Jenny’s beauty, her intelligence, her bravery for embarking upon a journey across the country alone, her resemblance to Jessica, and various other flatteries that nauseated her.

He is insufferable. It’s no wonder Jessica left him. Only an ignorant ninny would place any value in his superfluous words.

“What is your profession?” she said.

He straightened. “I’m an actor. That’s how I first met your sister—at a cast party at the theater in Cleveland.”

While sipping lemonade, Jenny willed the time to miraculously slip by. Her parents would have forbidden Jessica to see Aubrey. She could only imagine the turmoil in the Martin house. Her stomach twisted and churned, as it often did when she felt distressed. He did not answer her questions about Jessica but changed the conversation to talk about himself. During a rendition of Aubrey’s leading role in Romeo and Juliet in Cleveland, a yawn escaped her.

“Excuse me,” she said.

“It’s I who must beg your pardon.” Aubrey said. “You asked me why Jessica left Cleveland . . . and me.”

“This is very important to me.”

He moistened his lips and glanced away. “I don’t really know the reason. One moment we were happy and making plans for the future, and then she vanished. I was prepared to ask your father’s permission to marry Jessica the very day she disappeared.”

“She didn’t leave you a note?”

“No. I was to meet her at noon that day, but she never showed up. I’ve been looking for her ever since. That’s why . . . that’s why I followed you. I thought maybe she’d contacted you. And the little girl—how old is she?”

Jenny remembered Grant’s words earlier today about Aubrey. He could not possibly be her father. “She’s two and a half. According to Grant, Jessica lived here for more than a year and a half before giving birth to Rebecca.”

Troubled lines creased around the edges of his eyes. “How did she pass away?”

“Childbirth.” When he indeed looked grieved, she feared her own frail emotions. “I’m so sorry.”

“I had many hopes for our future,” Aubrey said.

There were many things I wish were different, too. She attempted to suppress another yawn. No point in being excessively rude.

Aubrey pulled a gold chain from his trouser pocket and eased aside the cover to reveal a gold and diamond studded timepiece. “You are definitely Jessica’s sister. She always insisted upon a nap in the afternoon and wanted to retire early in the evening.”

Jessica never napped! Her ability to get by on little sleep usually got her into mischief. Jenny’s thoughts raced with suspicion.

“The idiosyncrasies must be in our blood.”

“Exactly, and I need to excuse myself so you can rest.”

“And I am very tired.”

“It amazes me how much you two are alike. I may fall in love.” He touched her arm.