Lanterns and Lace Page 6

  “Did you enjoy the service?” Jocelyn said.

  “Yes, it was lovely.” What I remember of it.

  “Would you like to come ahead with me to the parsonage? The rest of the family is most likely there.”

  “No, thank you. I’d rather wait for Grant unless you need assistance.”

  “Heavens, no. Casey and Bonnie are all the help I need. The food simply needs to be set on the table.”

  At least they don’t expect me to know how to cook.

  With the sun perched at high noon, she soon felt a slow stream of perspiration slip down her face. Already, her clothes clung to her body, and dampness gathered around the ribbon and lace encircling her neck. At this rate, her jacketed dress would soon be drenched. Seeking a reprieve, she stepped beneath a tree.

  After what seemed forever, Grant appeared on the road. His easy stride attracted her—far too much.

  “The parsonage is much cooler.” He offered her his arm.

  “Your mother invited me, but I preferred to wait for you.” She linked her arm into his but avoided his face.

  He laughed low, a deep-throated sound that had not the right to unnerve her, but it did. “There’s no need to worry. I assure you.”

  They walked silently toward the parsonage. Birds sang, and she wished the same lightheartedness enveloped her. “You are very dedicated to the medical profession,” she began, thinking a change in conversation might pacify her nerves. “And I’ve seen a unique sense of compassion for others.”

  “It comes from my faith. I can’t serve God without first loving people—and for me that means tending to their needs.”

  With the mention of deity, she grew more distressed. She knew medical doctors at home who by studying science believed in Darwin’s theory of the origins of life, and her parents supported Darwin’s theory, as well.

  Reverend Rainer met them at the door of the parsonage and ushered them both inside. Jenny immediately noticed his thick white hair and soft gray eyes. She should have noted these things when he preached, but her mind had been a blur. The other family members were in lively discussion throughout the house, not at all what Jenny had expected.

  Jocelyn Rainer waved from the kitchen. “Jenny, we’re so very glad that you’re joining us for dinner. Do come into the kitchen where we all can talk.”

  Soon, Jenny listened to Casey, Bonnie, and Jocelyn tease and laugh. She envied their affection and the way they sincerely cared for each other. At home they would have sat in the parlor while the servants served the meal. Conversation would have been intellectually stimulating, but she doubted if the arts and philosophy would be discussed this day.

  “May I do something to help?” Jenny said, not sure where that question had come from.

  Jocelyn nibbled at her lip. “Umm, would you like to help Casey set the food on the table?”

  “Wonderful,” Bonnie said and eased into a chair. “I’ll let you two do all the work. Between the heat and not being able to breathe, I feel as lazy as a cat.”

  “You’ve been lazy since the day you were born,” Morgan said from the hallway. “Nothing new under the sun here.”

  The women laughed, and moments later Jenny, Casey, and Jocelyn crowded bowls and platters onto a huge circular table.

  “So, you are our Rebecca’s aunt,” Jocelyn said. “She favors you, but both of you look like Jessica.”

  Jenny’s eyes grew wide. “You knew my sister?”

  “Oh yes,” the reverend’s wife said. “She visited the church a few times and came to the parsonage once.”

  Jenny didn’t know quite how to respond and turned her attention to adding serving spoons to the table. She felt the weight of someone’s stare and realized Grant was watching her rather curiously. Realizing he would like nothing better than to see her gone from Kahlerville, she refused to meet his gaze.

  “Grant told me that you teach school and piano,” Jocelyn said. “And you tutor French.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “We’d love to hear you play sometime,” Jocelyn said. “The piano at church is in sad condition, but Grant has a splendid one. Mimi plays on occasion for family gatherings.”

  She slowly expelled a breath. That’s who she’d heard play the first morning she awoke in his home. Grant’s family treated her so kindly. Surely they didn’t know her mission. “I’d be honored to play for you.” Goodness, had the bump on her head left her senseless?

  The smell of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, plump biscuits, steamy hot vegetables, and blackberry pie was wonderful considering what she’d eaten for the past several days.

  “I see you eyeing that food.” Grant’s tone held more than a little amusement.

  “It’s a feast.”

  “Don’t overdo it,” he said, “but I think you could have a little of everything.”

  The sound of his voice sent a strange tingle up her spine. Again. This had to cease. She fought the sensation with every ounce of strength she could muster. After the reverend’s grace for dinner, he promptly picked up the biscuits and passed them to Jocelyn on his right and on around to the entire family, including the children.

  “Jocelyn and I have been married six and a half years, and I still haven’t been able to teach her how to bake biscuits,” he said.

  Jocelyn placed one fluffy delight on her plate and passed the platter on to Morgan. “And you, dear husband, have never learned how to make coffee.”

  “Amen,” Morgan said, “but Mama can sure fry chicken.”

  The conversation wasn’t at all what Jenny expected. Neither did she expect the well-behaved children nor the merriment. After the meal, the children played, and the men ventured to the church grounds to survey the newly painted building. Jenny couldn’t remember ever enjoying herself more. The children were polite and obedient, and the adults made her feel at ease. Casey made a point of inviting her to their ranch, and Jenny believed she really meant it.

  The neatly kept two-story home held a certain charm that drew her to its warmth.

  In the parlor Jenny sat and patted the edge of the blue and gold sofa while the other women continued to talk. The sofa and a pair of gold tapestry, overstuffed chairs obviously needed replacing. Several areas were threadbare, but the reverend’s salary probably didn’t afford many extras. Still, the older couple and their family appeared incredibly happy, and she wondered why. Maybe they didn’t know what they lacked. She must ponder on that aspect later.

  Along toward evening, they all moved to the Piney Woods Church for the evening service. Grant had come ahead of her with his stepfather. To her surprise, Aubrey Turner attended.

  “Good evening, Miss Martin,” he said, as she entered the small church holding Rebecca’s hand. “Are you fully recovered?”

  “Why, yes, I am. Thank you for checking on me at Dr. Andrews’s home.” Jenny wondered if she should introduce Mr. Turner to Grant’s family.

  “I hope we can share dinner together one day soon. I’m staying at the boardinghouse. Will you be seeking a room there, also?”

  She took a deep breath. “Yes, I plan to do so soon.”

  “Wonderful. We shall have a long discussion about Jessica.”

  “How did you know my sister?”

  “Why, we were engaged. Didn’t she tell you?”

  An icy chill attacked her body. Jessica engaged? Did Rebecca belong to Mr. Turner?

  He knelt to face Rebecca. A strange look passed over his face. A hint of sadness attached itself to his handsome features. “Hello, little lady, and what is your name.”

  “Rebecca Faith Andrews, sir.”

  “You are very beautiful.”

  “Thank you. I look like my mama and Aunt Jenny.”

  “Indeed you do, Miss Andrews.” Mr. Turner glanced up at Jenny. His eyes clouded, and he blinked. “How did I not know about this?”

  “I’m . . . I’m not sure,” Jenny said.

  Mr. Turner stood and licked his lips. Clearly disturbed, his gaze darted about. “T
his changes things considerably. The good doctor has much to answer for.”

  Jenny chose not to respond. Something about Aubrey Turner frightened her, not for what he said but for the indefinable look upon his face and the hint of threat to his words.

  Chapter 8

  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 c
lock.

  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?”