Where Trust Lies

by Janette Oke

  She lifted a shoulder. “No, I suppose it might be interesting.”

  The map Julie had purchased was turned over to the driver. Beth supposed he would have been able to find all the celebrity homes if they had simply asked. He struck out into early morning traffic, Monsieur Laurent beside him and already deep into his newspaper, leaving all commentary to the cabbie.

  “That there’s the Rockefeller estate. They call it ‘The Eyrie,’” the man explained, pointing through the trees at some distance. “The best way to see it is from the water, if you ask me—hard to get a good look from here. You can buy a picture postcard in town. They sell ’em all over. I know a guy who can get you a good watercolor painting, if you want.”

  Suddenly Julie was telling him to pull over. “Please!” she insisted.

  Everyone stared at her as the driver moved to the side of the road. Julie swung the door open, camera in hand. She gave it to Beth as she slid out. “Take a picture of me, Bethie. Be sure to get the mansion in the background,” she instructed.

  “Oh, Julie, you’ll hardly see a thing. It’s so far away—”

  “Please try. That’s right.”

  Beth sat on the edge of the seat at the open door, adjusting the lens so Julie was in the foreground, the distant Rockefeller mansion hovering behind. “I don’t know if this will do any good. It’s not as if I can focus on you and the house too.”

  “Then take another shot of the house by itself. Perhaps I can cut them apart and paste the pictures together. Or,” she said with some excitement, “I can just paint it—something for myself this time!”

  Julie was right—she certainly should be able to capture her own memories from their trip. But Beth couldn’t help wondering how many of the paintings already started for her students would actually be completed.

  Back in the taxi, they were off to the next location—all a blur to Beth, since she was hardly aware of any of these famous people who had so captivated Julie.

  “Oh,” she exclaimed at the sight of the John Jacob Astor mansion, “it’s so romantic! Did you know that he was the ‘Titanic baby’? His mother survived, but his father went down with the ship.”

  They all stared out the windows at the beautiful dwelling with its sorrowful past as they slowly drove by.

  “If only Jan and I were seeing the homes together,” Julie muttered.

  By noon they were back on board. Mother insisted they have lunch with Margret and the Montclairs. As they rose from their chairs, she suggested, “And we can all go shopping now, if you’d like.”

  Julie shivered with excitement. “Maybe I can finally get a Chanel bag.”

  “You’ll pay more for it here than you would elsewhere,” Margret warned.

  But Julie would not be deterred. “I don’t care. It’s worth it at any price.”

  “Well, Father might not think so,” Margret answered dryly, lifting JW into her arms and gathering up the bag laden with items she carried along for him. She looked tired. Beth was rather surprised that Margret was insisting he come along. She’s already not quite up to things, and there’s nothing of particular interest to JW. Is it simply to let Miss Bernard—and Mother—know who’s in charge? Holding out her arms for the boy, Beth smiled at her sister. Taking a cue from Beth, Julie reached for the heavy bag.

  “Annie Bet.” JW smiled happily. “I’s comin’,” the boy said, and Margret sighed gratefully.

  Beth would just as soon have remained on board herself, but she really didn’t want to miss out on these times with her family. She had realized at lunch that the trip was almost half done, and she wanted every minute possible with them. Who knows when we’ll be together like this again, especially with Margret’s new little one on the way and the uncertainties with my future?

  Shopping completed, Beth lingered on the dock until the rest were headed up the gangway, followed by two porters loaded down with even more packages and bags.

  “Any letter today?” she asked Monsieur Laurent a bit timidly as he waited with her.

  “I’m sorry, miss. There was a letter for your mother and one for your sister, Mrs. Bryce, but nothing for you today. Perhaps it will arrive tomorrow when we dock in Portland.”

  “Thank you.” She tried not to allow her disappointment to show.

  Julie and Margret each had purchased a new dress for dinner. They’d wanted Beth to buy one too, but she still had not worn two that she had brought along.

  Mother had been convinced by an eager salesman to purchase an elegant pearl necklace. She now sat at the dressing table, gazing into the mirror at its beautiful luster with the diamond accents and looking like she regretted its purchase. “So extravagant,” she fussed, shaking her head. “I don’t know what your father would say.”

  Julie leaned in close behind, hands resting on Mother’s shoulders, and smiled at their reflections. “He would have bought it for you himself, Mother. You know he would have. And he would love to see it on you right now.” She pressed a kiss on the soft cheek.

  Mother shook her head and let her fingers slide over the gems in the pendant. “That would have been so much better. I don’t feel that I should have bought it for myself.”

  “It’s the first expensive purchase you’ve made on the trip,” Beth assured her as she drew on her gloves. “As long as you don’t do it often, I’m sure Father will be most happy with you. And what Julie said is true—he does seem to enjoy spoiling us, at least occasionally.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Mother said. “It’s too bad, though, to have overspent so early on, only days away from New York City. I shall have to be very prudent there.” She ran her fingers once more over the pearl strand. “Yet I do believe it’s the nicest thing I’ve ever owned.”

  Julie twirled across the room in her new gown so its fringes flared around her. “I wish Father were here. He would enjoy seeing us all so happy.”

  Julie burst into their suite, wiping away tears.

  “What is it?” Beth grabbed her sister’s hands and led her to the sofa. Julie had gone off with her friends after dinner. “What’s happened? What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Jannis. She’s so . . . so angry with me,” she gasped out between sobs.

  “Whatever for?”

  Julie leaned against Beth, her shoulders shaking. “Because of . . . Bar Harbor. Because I . . . I didn’t go with them.”

  “What?” It was too strange to be believed. Surely Julie had misunderstood. “How could she be upset about that? Doesn’t she know Mother wanted us to be together, that she insisted on it?”

  Julie blew her nose into her handkerchief, shrinking away from Beth into a pitiful-looking waif. “I don’t know, Bethie. They just . . . just wanted me to come with them.”

  “Regardless of what Mother said?”

  Something about the comment made Julie stiffen, and her tone turned bitter. “That’s just it. They don’t think I should have to do as she says. After all, I’m not a child. They think I’m shockingly dependent—I need to learn to stand on my own two feet!”

  “Well, that’s ridiculous!” Beth immediately wished she hadn’t sounded so scornful. She tried again. “Julie, a person doesn’t demonstrate independence by rebelling. You do it by shouldering responsibilities, making wise, thoughtful decisions. You know that.”

  Immediately Julie was on her feet. “What do you know about it? All you do is bow to Mother’s every wish. And that’s fine—if I wanted all the same things that you do, that she wants. But I don’t!”

  Beth recoiled, a gasp caught in her throat. “Please, Julie, Mother is sleeping,” she cautioned, hands clasped in distress.

  Julie pushed her fingers through her short curls. “I don’t care! I don’t care if she hears me. She might as well know.”

  “Darling, this is so uncharacteristic of you. I don’t understand this. I’ve never seen you so upset.”

  Julie’s face twisted, more tears streaming down. “I don’t want them to call me a mama’s girl. I want my independenc
e too. I can’t live in a world with so many rules. It’s not fair.” She slumped down onto the footstool, hands covering her face. “She’s always been this way, Bethie.”

  She suddenly sat up straight, strident once more. “She watches me every moment, judges my every move. I can’t endure it any longer. It looks like the only way to break free is to marry—and then I’ll just be exchanging Mother’s rules for those of some man. Why can’t a woman just make her own way?” Her harsh tone was totally unlike anything Beth had ever heard from her sister.

  Is Julie parroting phrases she’s heard from her friends? Beth studied her sister’s furious-looking expression, willing her own reeling thoughts into something she could say and praying earnestly that God would provide wisdom that Julie would receive.

  Beth drew a chair closer to the footstool and seated herself, one hand sliding across Julie’s back. “It’s not exactly the way you are picturing things, darling. We weren’t meant to fly away like birds—free and on our own. We each were put into families, every one of us integral to the whole. Like a gear from the center of a clock. If it were to demand to be free, what would happen to the rest? And the gear itself would no longer have a purpose.”

  “That’s a fine thing for you to say! You’re on your way out the door as soon as we get home.”

  “All right,” Beth began again. “Then it’s not merely a clock. Our Creator makes things grow and change—like a living cell. Have you read about those?”

  “No,” Julie muttered, though Beth was grateful she was at least responding.

  “Cells are marvelous things. We’re just starting to understand them better. We read about them when I was in college. They’re so complex—so many parts, each doing its own task. And if one small part fails, the whole cell dies.”

  “What does that have to do with me?” Julie obviously had lost patience with the metaphor.

  “Just listen—I’m almost done. Our family is like one of those cells. Someday we’ll split off into new families, like how a cell grows and divides, like Margret and John did. But until then, we need each other. And no single part survives on its own. It wasn’t meant to.”

  Beth prayed that Julie would hear what she was so desperately trying to put into words. “And further, we’re still a part of the body as a whole, inextricably linked together. And that doesn’t change when we each begin our own families.” She squeezed Julie’s shoulders. “I know it’s not a perfect picture, but I hope it at least speaks against the lie that we could be happy if only we could just break free. We wouldn’t be happy. We were made to love and support and protect one another.” Beth could feel her own tears welling up. “Don’t you see? I love you. And so do Mother, Father, and all the rest of the family. None of us wants you to wish yourself away.”

  Julie turned toward Beth and whispered, “Sometimes they make me feel so . . . so childish, the girls. I don’t know what to say to them, how to defend myself and our family.”

  “I’m sorry for them, that they weren’t raised in a family. They don’t know there are wonderful things about families, about mothers and fathers, who help us with our decisions, with their experience and wisdom. They probably only see what they perceive as restrictions to ‘freedom’—which might not turn out to be freedom at all.”

  Long into the night, the sisters whispered together. They agreed to listen more intently to each other’s sorrows, to be more open. And also to find wise distinctions between submitting to their parents’ authority and bearing responsibility for themselves as women.

  When morning came, Beth was hopeful the emotional storm had passed—that what had been troubling Julie had been brought to light.

  Chapter

  22

  MONSIEUR LAURENT SLID A SMALL PACKET across the table toward Beth. “You see,” he said with a little grin, “the young man has not forgotten you.”

  Beth drew it out from under his hand and thanked their escort. If only the mail could be delivered directly to the room, she thought. It was getting a bit tiresome to see the same knowing expression on his face each time he played deliveryman. But then I’d probably have those same looks from Mother or Julie, she reminded herself.

  Hurrying away to a favorite corner in the ship’s atrium, Beth had quickly put aside her annoyance by the time she tore open the first envelope and withdrew its contents. She read slowly, savoring the strong connection she felt. But even in this, his fifth letter, Jarrick had not yet received any letters from Beth. She was so glad they at least had been able to converse by telephone. She shifted her thinking back to when the letter was written so many days before.

  It appeared that all were faring well. Jarrick had shared a meal with Edward and Kate. He seemed to like her well enough but gave few details. Just like a man, she thought with a wry smile. Molly and Frank had settled into life together. Abigail was well on her way to setting up her own business in the Grants’ old tavern. There was promise of a new group of miners, and the company was breaking ground for a series of additional homes across the rough little road from the current ones. The first three would soon house new families. “New children likely will be in school in the fall, God willing,” Jarrick wrote.

  She folded the letter and tucked it away, looking at her watch pin before reaching for the next one. The tour of the Portland docks would not begin until after lunch. For now there was still time to savor the second letter.

  My dearest Beth,

  I’m certain you feel as I do, that though it was a boon to my spirit to speak with you today, it was a disappointment as well. I’m sorry I wasn’t better able to coordinate our telephone call—that we had so little time. The men with whom I work suggested that yesterday’s difficulties might simply have been a problem with the lines. They may be right. There are certainly many, many miles of wire stretching across Canada from east to west. However, the truth of that doesn’t make my frustration any easier.

  Jarrick went on to write that little had changed in the few days since his last letter, except for the visit from the school board he had already mentioned by telephone, and also he now had finally received a letter from her. He expressed again his hope that Beth would soon be able to teach her young students about the places she had traveled and what she had seen. He was certain her descriptions would open unimagined horizons to the children of her town.

  Beth sighed, the familiar ache of missing him filling her heart, and looked again at her watch pin. She covered a yawn, reminded that her night had been awfully short. Julie was still sleeping, groaning her objection to anything else. With Margret absent at the beginning of the day, and Victoria occasionally choosing to breakfast alone in her room, their table felt rather empty in the mornings—though Mrs. Montclair certainly kept up her end of things.

  Beth gathered the letters and slipped them inside her handbag. There was still plenty of time before their party would assemble, but she thought she’d check to see if Julie was awake yet. As she walked toward the door to the deck, she heard angry voices outside. She dared not proceed.

  Rising to her tiptoes, she peered through the porthole-shaped window. In shock she saw Penny and Jannis, their hair blowing wildly around them, standing at the ship’s rail, clearly having an unrestrained scrap. She hesitated, feeling it was rude to eavesdrop, and yet she also felt she must know if their argument had anything to do with Julie. Beth cracked open the door.

  “You never listen, Jan!” Penny spat out. “You weren’t s’posed to use them—and we sure could’ve used the money.”

  “I told you not to bring it up again!” Jannis started to turn away, only to be swung back by a pinching grip on her arm. She jerked it away and shouted, “She’s got ’em back now! Why do you keep throwing it in my face?”

  Jannis recoiled, but Penny grabbed her arm again and shook it roughly. “I don’t care if you think you weren’t wrong. The fact is, you blew it! And as to the other thing, I told you how it was s’posed to go, and you didn’t pay attention. So now you’ve got to listen t
o me.”

  “Can’t blame me, Penny! You’re the one who said we may as well be hanged for stealing a sheep as for a lamb. Well, I thought so too, in my own way.” Once more Jannis wrenched her arm out of Penny’s grasp and cocked her head defiantly. “Anyway, it wasn’t my fault. You couldn’t have done any better.”

  Their voices drifted away as Penny stalked behind Jannis out of sight. Beth allowed the door to close softly and hurried away. They must be talking about Victoria’s field glasses . . . but I can’t be sure. And what was the other thing? Beth’s heart was racing.

  “Julie, how about staying with me tonight? We haven’t played a game in ages.”

  The expression on Julie’s face was genuine bewilderment. “A game? You can’t mean that, Bethie! I promised the girls I’d go with them to the show. There’s a barbershop quartet tonight with an ice-cream social besides.” She paused, looking thoughtfully at Beth. “Maybe you’d like to come too?”

  Beth sighed. She had gotten very little sleep the night before because of Julie, and she had planned to turn in early. But after what she’d overheard, she was unwilling to let her sister out of her sight. “Thanks, Julie—that sounds like fun.”

  But Julie was exclaiming, “Oh, darling, would you? That would be just keen! But you can’t wear that old mauve number again. You’ll have to borrow something from me. We won’t be running with Mother’s crowd tonight, you know.”

  Julie drew one of her short fringed dresses from the closet and held it up to Beth. It was shiny gray satin with a white band of trim high across the bodice, and swirls of white beading that sparkled as the garment moved. “This is perfect. I haven’t worn it yet. You can use my long pearls with it. Oh! I have a red feather that would be stunning if you just tucked it at the back of your hair.”

  “No, thank you.” Beth was firm. “No feather.”