Taken Too Soon

by Edith Maxwell

  Which meant Reuben could have come and gone at will for the period during which Frannie was killed: Sixth Day evening stretching into Seventh Day morning. No one would have marked his whereabouts, at least not his parents. The big house next door had plentiful windows but was set back from the road a bit. Possibly a lane or a path ran behind these properties. Anyway, a lad sneaking out at night might not be noticed by anyone.

  “Nitka!” A young man burst out of the back door of the house. “Have you seen my cap?” He stopped short when he saw me. “Pardon me. I didn’t realize you had a visitor.” Looking to be still in his teens, he had straight black hair like his mother’s, but his locks were neatly cropped above his collar, not worn in a long plait.

  “Reuben, come and meet Mrs. Dodge.” To me she said, “This is my son, Reuben.”

  Reuben approached. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.” His tone was polite but perfunctory.

  I didn’t blame him. Why would he take an interest in a lady calling on his mother? “And I thee, Reuben. I am very sorry for the loss of thy friend, Frannie.” I held out my hand.

  Eyes the color of dark chocolate flew wide open. Now he truly looked at me, his mouth turned down in sadness. “Did you know Frannie?” He stared at my hand and finally shook it for a brief moment. He had a stockier build than his mother but shared her long hands and fingers, although his were work-calloused. He wore work trousers and a sweater that were well-mended, but clean and tidy.

  “Not well, but we were cousins of sorts,” I said.

  “Mrs. Dodge is Miss Tilly and Miss Dru’s niece, son,” Zerviah explained.

  “Ah.” He blinked. “You’d be Rose Carroll, the midwife, then. Frannie spoke of you.”

  “I am.” I had no idea she’d known of my occupation. Tilly or Dru must have told her. “I recently was married, so now my name is Rose Dodge.”

  He swallowed. “And you’re some kind of detective, too.” His gaze was over my shoulder, not at my face.

  “Not exactly.” I smiled at him. He must have known he was under suspicion. I wasn’t surprised he wouldn’t look me in the eyes.

  The bell at the church down the road chimed twelve times. Sadie had said the building was newly constructed by those in the Methodist faith.

  “Crikey, it’s noon already.” Reuben said. “I’ve got to get out on the flats. Mama, you haven’t seen my cap?”

  “Did you lose it, son?”

  “I guess. I can’t find it anywhere.”

  “Wear your father’s old one.”

  The boy grimaced. “The one that looks like a rat ate it? I guess I’ll have to. Good day, Mrs. Dodge.” He touched his mother’s shoulder.

  Zerviah held his hand and gazed at him with a somber look. “Stay safe and come home promptly, peissesit.”

  “Yes, Mama, but please stop calling me ‘Baby.’” He freed his hand and hurried back into the cottage.

  “He’s still my baby,” she murmured, gazing after him.

  I stood. “I’d best be going, too. I told my husband I would be back by midday. I’m glad I got to meet Reuben. He’s a polite young man, Zerviah. Thee has trained him well.”

  She bobbed her head once. “Among my people, good manners are important, as is showing respect for your elders.”

  “I should say those things are important for all people. Does thee have other children, as well?”

  “Three, but they are older and off on their own.”

  My surprise must have registered on my face. She laughed and stood.

  “I was only eighteen when I had my first child and I’ve now passed forty-five winters. Reuben is the baby of the brood.”

  Forty-five? She didn’t look her age at all, with her smooth, nearly unlined skin.

  Reuben hurried out of the cottage wearing a flat cap that indeed had seen better days atop his head. He rode off on an old bicycle fitted out with large woven baskets hanging down from either side of the rear wheel.

  “You see, don’t you?” Zerviah kept her voice low. “My son is not a murderer.”

  He’d shown only a little grief for Frannie, when I’d offered my sympathies, and had become evasive when he heard who I was. I bade Zerviah farewell and walked briskly back to my aunts’ home and my husband, but my brain was aroil with thoughts.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  David and I alit from the railroad’s terminus at Wood’s Holl by two o’clock. After I’d arrived back at Dru’s and Tilly’s, stashed my purchases in the ice box, and had a bite to eat with my husband, we’d caught the one thirty local. The depot here, which went right up to the water, was bustling. Passengers descended the train with us, sightseers waited to board, and cargo was unloaded, with more waiting to go on. When the island-bound Monohansett sounded its airhorn, travelers carrying parcels and satchels pushed toward the large side-wheel steamer, including a number of well-dressed colored people.

  David saw me watching the latter. “Martha’s Vineyard has a sizeable community of former slaves. The area is called Cottage City.”

  “Is that so? I had no idea.”

  “Yes. The cottages are well-appointed and almost fancifully decorated.”

  “It must be a comfort for them to relax apart from prejudicial attitudes,” I said. “I wonder if my colored friends from Amesbury ever journey down here. I’m aware of the many Friends who reside on the smaller island of Nantucket, of course, but I confess I know little of Martha’s Vineyard. Who was Martha, anyway?”

  David laughed, tucking my arm through his. “I am not a compendium of general facts, my dear, much though you might believe otherwise. I’m sure someone in this lovely hamlet will know the answer to your question, though. Let’s stroll, shall we?”

  Stroll we did. Yesterday’s oppressive weather had not returned, leaving us another sunny, breezy afternoon. We meandered along Water Street past shops and men mending nets. Two strong young women cleaned fish and shooed away screeching gulls looking for a treat. A man in the front window of a sweets shop pulled taffy.

  “Look, David.” I pointed at a wall plastered with handbills. They featured the same picture of the burlesque show we’d seen in Falmouth, but the words read, “Performers Wanted! Apply at the Cape Cod Burlesque Theater weekdays between noon and five o’clock.”

  “My brother’s recruitment efforts, no doubt,” David muttered. “I hope my mother doesn’t get it in her head to travel here and see what he’s up to.”

  “She won’t, will she?”

  “I doubt it, but you know Clarinda. When she resolves to act, good luck trying to dissuade her. Let’s move on. I don’t want to let thoughts of Currie spoil an afternoon with my beautiful bride.”

  I gazed up at an imposing square building built from massive blocks of pink granite.

  “I believe it’s the old candle factory,” David said. “I read about it once. When whaling was in its heyday and before we had the convenience of gas lighting, they manufactured candles in this building from the crude whale oil. I doubt the business is in operation now, and I don’t know what the building currently houses.”

  “I hope it’s not sitting empty. It’s so sturdily built, it’s clearly not going anywhere. It should house a thriving business, which could feel safe from any damage from hurricanes and the like.”

  We paused at the new marine research laboratory at the corner of Albatross.

  “It seems there is water everywhere here,” I said. “What an excellent place to study all the types of life thriving in the ocean.”

  “This sign says it’s open to the public,” David said. “I’d like to see what they have on display.”

  “I would, too.”

  Inside were educational placards about seals and pelagic birds, barnacles and codfish, plankton and mussels. A pretty girl in a shirtwaist sat at a table full of information pamphlets. A sign reading Science Aquarium was posted over another door.

  “Welcome,” the girl greeted us. “The pools are through yonder door if you’d like to see them. Our harbo
r seals are still here, but we’ll be releasing them back to the wild next week.” She gestured toward the door.

  “My goodness,” I murmured once outside. Two large granite-lined pools were surrounded by a waist-high iron fence. A seal basked on the paving stones between the basins, and fish swam silently beneath the surface.

  We leaned on the fence to watch.

  “See the ray?” David asked, pointing.

  “It looks like an underwater bird,” I exclaimed. “Wouldn’t it be marvelous to move about so smoothly?”

  He laid his arm over my shoulders. “We can go back into the ocean tomorrow if you’d like.”

  After some minutes we resolved to move on. David pulled open the door to go back inside but stopped all of a sudden, making me bump into him. From the room with the displays I heard, “Why, if it isn’t my doctor brother and his lovely new wife.” Currie.

  I gave David a gentle push. Inside, Currie leaned against the girl’s desk with his arms folded.

  “Good afternoon, Currie,” I said. David hadn’t spoken.

  “I’m here conversing with one of our future performers, if I have my way.” Currie grinned at the girl, who blushed.

  “I’d be careful around this fellow, miss,” David said to her. “His business is not an honorable one, and I daresay your father would be ill-pleased to know you were associating with Currie Dodge.”

  The girl gaped, then slid her chair back and away from Currie. As for Currie, he narrowed his eyes at David and pressed his lips into a line.

  “We were just on our way, brother,” David added. “Good day.”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but shut it again. Out on the street I could barely keep up with his brisk stride. I grabbed his elbow.

  “David, stop a minute.”

  He halted and passed a hand over his face before turning to me. “I’m sorry, Rose. It irks me that my brother is completely cavalier about making his living in such a disreputable—and possibly harmful—way.”

  “I understand. The poor girl was entirely taken with him, too, wasn’t she?”

  “I hope my warning has some effect on the creature.” He blew out a breath. “Currie has disappointed me more than once. When he appeared at our reception, I prayed he’d reformed his wayward habits. It seems he hasn’t.”

  I spoke softly. “And thee is both angry and saddened.” I’d wanted to linger and learn about the marine life. David had clearly needed to leave. I threaded my arm through his.

  He gazed out at the harbor for a moment, then touched my cheek. “I am, but there’s nothing to be done about it. Can I rescue our afternoon together? I hear Prescott House offers a sumptuous afternoon tea.”

  “Show me the way, kind sir.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  We made it back to Sadie’s by six forty-five, admiring the setting sun we glimpsed from the train as we rode. I hoped it wasn’t too late for supper. Sadie hadn’t given me a time this morning when she’d extended the invitation. Not that I was very hungry. The Prescott House tea had indeed been laden with delicious small sandwiches, sweets, and fruits. David and I hadn’t spoken further of Currie. It didn’t mean my thoughts weren’t on him.

  Sadie pulled open the door. “Do come in, Rose and David. We sat down to eat not a moment ago.”

  I thanked her and we followed her through to where my aunts sat at the table. I kissed them both and sat. “Where is Huldah?”

  “He’s off at some meeting and dining out as part of it,” Sadie said. “Here, let me dish up the chicken stew.”

  “Only a small portion for me, please,” I said.

  “I lured her into tea at the Prescott House,” David explained with a smile.

  “A lovely hotel with an excellent chef,” Sadie said.

  After we observed our silent grace, I was glad to see Tilly at least dipping into her stew even if she didn’t look particularly animated. A pang of guilt stabbed me. This was a painful time for my aunt, and she wasn’t even in her own home. Perhaps she didn’t want to be, though, with all the reminders of Frannie and no one but Dru to be with. Here at least Sadie was taking care of her physical needs. It was up to Edwin and me to resolve the mystery.

  I dug into my stew, savoring the fresh herbs Sadie had used. The dish tasted of basil and rosemary, perhaps parsley. She’d chopped up fresh green beans and must have thrown them in at the last minute, because they added a welcome crunch and brightness.

  “How are my aunts today?” I asked.

  “Has thee made any headway, Rose?” Tilly asked instead of answering me. “In finding Frannie’s killer?”

  “Now, Till.” Dru patted her sister’s hand. “Rose and David don’t want to be talking about anything so distasteful at the dinner table.”

  Distasteful? Homicide was indeed that, and so much more. “It’s all right, Aunt Dru. No, Aunt Tilly. I haven’t heard of the sheriff making an arrest yet.”

  “But thee has been making inquiries, I’m sure,” Tilly pressed. “Thee passes along what thee learns to Edwin. I don’t understand why they haven’t yet put Reuben Baxter behind bars.”

  “I’ve learned a great deal about the criminal justice system during the course of courting Rose,” David said. “The authorities can’t make an arrest unless they have firm evidence a crime was committed by a particular person.”

  “This is true,” I said. “Why does thee think Reuben is the guilty one?” I asked Tilly.

  She straightened her spine and spoke in measured words. “Because he is a young man. Because he was smitten with Frannie. Because, despite being a cheerful girl, she was willful and sometimes acted in a hurtful way.”

  Dru nodded as she spooned in more stew.

  “And because men are generally not to be trusted, present company excluded, of course.” Tilly locked her eyes with mine as if willing me to agree.

  “I see.” What I saw was that, in fact, she had no good reason to suspect Reuben. That said, she seemed stable enough for me to ask the question I’d telegraphed to my father. She wouldn’t answer if she didn’t want to.

  “Aunt Tilly, it might help me understand the situation better if I knew how Frannie came to be thy ward.”

  She halted the progression of her spoon to her mouth and returned it to her bowl. Dru frowned at me. Sadie blinked, looking from Tilly to me and back.

  “I thought thee knew Frannie’s parents died in an accident,” Tilly said softly. “She was orphaned. Someone needed to take her in. So I did.”

  “With my blessing,” Dru added.

  “But thee was already advanced in years by then,” I said to Tilly. “Why thee and not a younger family?”

  “And didn’t Frannie have grandparents, aunts and uncles?” David asked.

  Dru shot Tilly a look. “Frannie’s father was an orphan. Her mother—”

  “Let me, Dru.” My angular aunt bowed her head for a moment and then looked up. “I shall tell thee, and Sadie and David, as well. Dru already knows my sad story. Rose, when I was a young woman about thy own age, I still had not married. Dru and I were already living here in West Falmouth, and I fell in love. The man was a charmer. He said we would be wed. I let myself be swept away by his ardor. Soon enough I was left both alone and carrying a child.”

  No. My heart broke for her.

  “I went away for my confinement and gave up the baby girl to be adopted. It was the hardest thing I have ever done.” She raised her chin. “But I was able to keep track of her even though she knew nothing of me. She married and had a baby girl of her own. The baby was Frannie. My granddaughter.”

  Sadie’s breath rushed in. David made a sound of sympathy in his throat. I rose and went around the table to put my arms around Tilly. I could barely see for the tears welling in my eyes.

  “I never knew,” I murmured. “I am so, so sorry, Aunt Tilly.” At least now my earlier musing made sense. I knew something had looked familiar about Tilly’s childhood picture. The connection I hadn’t made was with Frannie’s picture at the sam
e age. The dark curly hair, identical dark eyes. The tragedy was almost too much to bear. Tilly’s daughter, lost in an accident. And her granddaughter, murdered.

  “My daughter and I never had a chance to know each other,” Tilly continued.

  I straightened but kept my hand on her shoulder.

  “The couple who adopted her were, shall we say, less than ideal parents. They had no other children, so Frannie didn’t have aunts and uncles to take her in. When I learned of Frannie’s parents’ death, I contacted the grandparents. They weren’t interested in caring for a toddling orphan, and the baby’s father’s parents were deceased.”

  David made a sympathetic sound in his throat.

  “Now thee understands why I took in the girl, Rose,” Tilly continued. “Thy father knows this story, but I made him swear not to tell a soul, not even thy mother.” She swallowed. “It’s why I was so upset at Frannie gallivanting around and associating with the likes of Reuben Baxter. There was an older man she spoke of once, too, who showered her with affection.”

  Currie? Or someone else?

  “I did not in any way want her to become mired in the same predicament as me,” Tilly went on. “I failed, Rose. I failed our Frannie. And she was taken from us.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  David and I strolled home from Sadie’s arm in arm. A wind shushed through the needles of the pine trees and set the swamp oak leaves to whispering with the reddening sugar maple leaves.

  I sniffed the air. “I do believe it’s going to rain.”

  “Mmm.”

  “Is thee thinking about what dear Tilly said? I know I am.”

  “The poor woman. What scoundrel would impregnate a young woman and then abandon her?”

  “Husband, surely thee knows a great many men have done precisely that. He might have left before she knew she was carrying a child.”

  “But to promise her marriage?” He shook his head. “I’m afraid too many of my sex think with their manly parts instead of their brains.”