by Kit Morgan
“Heavens, no! I’ll deliver it myself!” Martha huffed as she headed for the stairs.
Betsy shook her head. “Lord, have mercy,” she mumbled under her breath. “Mrs. Vander ain’t gonna be too happy having her bath interrupted.”
“She’ll be fine,” Martha said. “Coming, Maude?”
“Well, seeing as how you’re interrupting her, I might as well interrupt her too.” The women hurried up the stairs. Betsy followed, still shaking her head, a wry smile on her face.
“However do you manage to carry hot water up here, Betsy?” Martha asked as she reached the top of the stairs.
“I manage,” Betsy answered with a sigh. “Now let me announce you.” They stopped in front of Mercy’s bedroom door, and watched as Betsy slipped inside. Muffled voices could be heard, followed by a loud, “WHAT?”
Martha and Maude looked at each other. “See?” Martha said with a smile of triumph. “I told you she’d know it was important.”
A sloshing sound could be heard along with more muffled voices. Within moments, Mercy was standing in the doorway to her bedroom, dripping wet and wrapped in a sheet. “What is it? Tell me! And don’t leave anything out!”
Martha straightened. “Morgan is going to marry Miss Evers.”
Mercy clapped her hands together and the sheet slid off. Without missing a beat, Betsy came up behind her and pulled it back into place. “That’s wonderful!” Mercy cried! “Thank you, Betsy,” she said over her shoulder as an afterthought. “When’s the wedding?”
“Thanksgiving Day!” Martha said in an excited voice.
“Oh, this is wonderful!” Mercy said. “And to think we didn’t have to lift a finger to help!”
Betsy, still standing behind her, smiled and pursed her lips together. “When did he propose?”
“He hasn’t yet,” Martha informed her.
“But he’s going to,” added Maude. “Miss Evers hasn’t been speaking to him, so he decided to give her more time to stop being angry first.”
Betsy’s eyes widened. “She still angry with him?”
They all looked at her. “Still? How did you know she was angry with him?” Martha asked.
Betsy shrugged. “Everybody in town knows.”
“But … I’m his mother! How did I not know? I just found out!”
“Never mind about that,” Maude said. “We have to make wedding plans. What should she wear?”
“Did she already have a wedding dress?” Mercy asked.
“Not to our knowledge,” answered Martha. “And I’m not sure Mrs. Simpson could make one in time.”
“Why not? Thanksgiving is six days from now,” pointed out Mercy.
“Yes, but he’s going to propose Sunday after church. He’s waiting until then to see her. After all, she’ll have to go to services,” Maude said.
“Oh dear, you’re right – and Mrs. Simpson will want to measure her before she gets started on anything.” Mercy started counting on her fingers. “If she measures her on Monday, there won’t be enough time. But aren’t Miss Evers and Winnie about the same size?”
“Yes, they are,” Martha said. “Maybe Mrs. Simpson could fit a dress to Winnie and start on it right away.”
“Or you three could just ask if Mrs. Simpson has a wedding dress already made,” Betsy suggested. “Sometimes she does, especially with two prospective brides in town.”
“Two?” Mercy asked.
“Miss Evers and Miss Caulder,” Betsy said.
All three women grimaced at the mention of Bernice. “Poor Mrs. Caulder – she may never get that girl married off,” Mercy said with a shake of her head.
“Forget about Bernice,” snapped Maude. “We have to get this wedding dress taken care of.”
“Let me put myself together,” Mercy said, “then we’ll go straight to the dressmaker’s.”
“We’d hoped you’d say that!” Martha exclaimed. “We’ll wait downstairs.” She grabbed Maude by the arm, turned them both around and headed for the staircase. Mercy let out a squeak of delight, turned and raced back into the bedroom.
Betsy looked at the stairs, then into the bedroom. “Now why do you suppose Miss Evers is still mad at Morgan?” she asked aloud. “It don’t make any sense for her to be mad at him in the first place.”
“Betsy!” Mercy cried from her room. “Help me get dressed!”
Betsy turned toward the sound. “Nope, it don’t make any sense at all.”
Sixteen
“Morgan, have you got the ring?” his mother asked as she fussed with his shirt collar.
“Yes, Mother – for the fifth time, I have the ring. Now will you kindly stop? You’re going to tear my shirt if you keep yanking on it like that.”
She stepped back and studied her handiwork. “Oh Morgan, you look so handsome. How could she possibly say no?”
His face sobered. “It could happen.”
“Nonsense. She’ll say yes the moment the words leave your mouth. Just save any kissing for the wedding. I don’t want you to add any more fuel to the fire.”
“Speaking of fueling the fire, where is Aunt Eunice?”
“I would imagine she’s left for church with your father. But that’s all right. You’re going to sit next to Miss Evers anyway.”
“If she’ll let me,” he muttered and reached for his coat. “It’s getting rather cold out. I hope Daisy’s been keeping herself warm.” He looked at his mother. “She’s not used to this kind of weather, coming from New Orleans.”
Martha smiled. “I’m sure you’ll be able to take care of that once you’re married, now won’t you?”
Morgan’s eyes widened. “Mother!”
“Well, it’s all very natural and a part of life, isn’t it?”
“But Mother …”
“Which brings me to asking – has your father had that talk with you yet?”
Morgan rolled his eyes. “Oh for crying out loud, Mother, I don’t need ‘that talk’! I know all I need to know about –”
“Morgan Tindle! How would you know?”
He glared at her moment, then shook his head. “Science classes,” he offered, then put on his coat. “Come along or we’re going to be late.” He hurried down the stairs and waited at the bottom for his mother to catch up. He hoped by the time they reached the church his embarrassment would be far behind him. His mother could ask the darnedest things!
They left the mercantile and walked to the church. Once there, his mother went inside, but Morgan waited on the church steps, hoping he could catch Daisy before she went in. He smiled and nodded at people as they entered, then realized that Daisy must already be inside. After all, she was living right next door.
He turned and stared at the entrance to the church, suddenly nervous. Would she get upset if he sat next to her? Maybe he should sit someplace else, then catch her after the service. He’d thought of different ways of going about this – somewhere they could be alone, or someplace with lots of people around as witnesses? After going back and forth, he finally decided it would be nicer to speak with her in private. Perhaps they could slip into Pastor Luke’s parlor in the parsonage, or sit in the back pew of the church after everyone had gone …
Speaking of pew, he better find a seat before all of them were filled up. He went inside and quickly glanced around. He didn’t see Daisy anywhere, though it was hard to tell who was who, when so many of the women wore hats. But then, how many redheads were there in town? He decided to sit and watch for her. He sat in the third pew from the back on the left-hand side of the church.
Hester Gail came in with her two children and motioned to him, asking if the wide space next to him was taken. He looked at her, then at the church doors, and finally scooted over to let them into the pew. It wasn’t like Daisy was going to see him and want to sit next to him. A few more minutes passed and Mr. Smythe, Julian’s father and the head usher, closed the doors.
Where was Daisy?
Pastor Luke stepped forward and turned to face his co
ngregation. “Everyone take your hymnals out. We’ll start with ‘Amazing Grace’.”
The doors of the church suddenly flew open and a gust of wind entered, along with Betsy, the Vanders’ maid. She took a seat in the pew behind Morgan and smiled her apologies.
He nodded to her in greeting and stood along with the rest of the congregation as they prepared to sing. But unable to help himself, he turned around. “Have you seen Daisy?” he whispered.
“No, sir, I’m afraid I haven’t,” Betsy whispered back.
He faced forward. Good grief, was she so angry with him that she didn’t even want to be in the same church? This was getting ridiculous! How was he ever going to propose when she wouldn’t even speak with him?
Sure enough, there was no sign of her during the service, or afterward. The only thing he could think to do was speak to Pastor Luke and Winnie. He was about to do just that when Betsy touched him on the arm. “Well? Where is she?” Betsy asked.
“How should I know?” he whispered back as Mrs. Gail ushered her children into the aisle. “I haven’t seen her since our dinner – and you know how that went.”
Betsy shook her head. “I just don’t understand why she’s so mad at you. I was there the whole time that night, and you didn’t say anything that would have upset me.”
“Yes, but you’re not Miss Evers.”
“No, but I’m a woman, ain’t I?”
Morgan thought a moment. “You’re right, I don’t understand either. Unless she just doesn’t like me.”
“I don’t know, Mister Morgan, I don’t think that’s it.”
“Then what? I’m at my wit’s end! As soon as I see her, I’m going to tell her I love her and I want to marry her!” He quickly glanced around. “But what do I do if she says no?”
“Maybe if you’d said yes when she first got here, you wouldn’t be in this mess,” Betsy observed.
“Don’t remind me. I know that, and I told her I was sorry. Then when we pretended to court to get my aunt to leave me alone …”
“Oh yeah, that,” Betsy interrupted. “That had to be one of the dumbest things you could’ve done.”
“I know that now. But when I started courting her for real, everything changed. Daisy made an honest man out of me, Betsy.”
“Mm-hmm,” Betsy agreed. “Somebody had to.”
“Yes, but if I was being honest about it, then why is she so mad at me?”
“I don’t know, maybe …” Betsy froze, eyes wide. “Wait … did you tell her you were courting her for real?”
“Well … of course, she must’ve known that I … that we … oh good grief …” Morgan smacked his forehead then pulled his hand down his face. “Good Lord, what have I done?”
“I think the better question is, what’re you gonna do? Besides a heap of apologizing.”
“She thought I was still pretending … and so she was pretending … oh, what a mess!”
“I don’t know who was pretending what at this point, but you better not pretend no more. Go find her and let her know how you feel. Pastor Luke’s still at the front of the church – go ask him where she is.”
Without another word, Morgan left the pew and hurried up the aisle to where Luke Adams stood. “Where’s Daisy?” he asked, interrupting his conversation with Mrs. Gail. “I have to know where she is!”
Luke stared at him, then looked at the floor. “I’m sorry, Morgan, but she’s not here.”
“I know she’s not here! She must really be upset with me if she didn’t come to church. But I have to speak with her. Is your wife at home?”
“Yes, Winnie just went to the house, but …”
“Can I speak with Daisy?”
Pastor Luke looked at him. “No, I’m afraid not.”
“Why not?”
“Morgan, she left town on Friday.”
“What?!” Morgan said as he paled. “What do you mean, she left?”
Pastor Luke glanced at Mrs. Gail and her children. “Would you excuse us for a moment?”
Mrs. Gail nodded and left. As soon as she was gone, Morgan grabbed Luke’s arm. “What happened? Where is she?”
“I didn’t find out until Friday night. She left on the morning stage.”
“What? How could she just leave like that? Where did she go?”
“Where she went is her business, Morgan. I don’t know much more than you do, other than she got an opportunity to leave and she took it. She’s hoping to find work elsewhere and make a life for herself.”
“Oh good grief, this is all my fault!”
“You can’t blame yourself,” said Pastor Luke. “According to Winnie, she’d made up her mind to leave days ago. She was just waiting for the stage.”
“But why the Friday morning stage?” Morgan asked. “That’s not the only one that comes through town.”
Luke shrugged. “I don’t know – she didn’t tell me, and if she told Winnie she must’ve sworn her to secrecy. I’m sorry, Morgan – I know you’re upset that she’s gone.”
Morgan turned and stared at the open church doors. “That’s not all I’m upset about.” Without looking back, he stormed out of the church.
With determined steps, he marched straight to the mercantile, and upstairs to his family’s living quarters. “You,” he said and pointed an accusing finger at his aunt. “You did this, didn’t you?”
Aunt Eunice was just taking off her coat. She turned to him, one eyebrow raised. “Whatever are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about Miss Evers. She’s gone.”
“Well, all the better for us then, isn’t it?”
Morgan crossed the room and grabbed his aunt by the arm. “Where is she?” he demanded.
Aunt Eunice looked at the hand on her arm, then back to him. “What do you care? She was never right for you. She’d not be right for any man.”
“What are you talking about? Who are you to say whether she’s right or wrong for me?”
“I’m family, Morgan, which means I will do what I need to in order to make sure you live your life to the fullest.”
“The fullest?” he spat. “I’ll decide what’s going to fulfill my life, not you.”
She pulled her arm out of his hand. “I’ll see you married and married well,” she shot back. “That girl would’ve been nothing but trouble, mark my words. She was no use to you or anyone else in this family. Only a black mark. Now Miss Caulder – she will be of more use to you than Miss Evers could ever be.”
“Miss Caulder is an imbecile!” Morgan raged. “Besides, I’m not in love with Miss Caulder! I’m in love with Daisy Evers!”
Aunt Eunice took a step back. “In love? Oh no, this will never do. Get that notion out of your head right now.”
“It’s not in my head, it’s in my heart. Now where is she?” Morgan was running out of patience.
“She’s trying to make a better life for herself, and I hope she’s able to do it.”
“I thought you hated her.”
“Oh, Morgan, I don’t hate her. I simply hate what she represents: ignorance, stupidity, imperfection.”
“What are you talking about?” he demanded. “You’re making no sense at all!”
“The woman cannot read or write,” she stated. “She could never help you run the mercantile. She’d bring your entire business down.”
Morgan stared at her, dumbfounded. “Can’t read or write? Imperfection? What is all this?”
“Trust me, Morgan, I know. I’ve had students such as her when I used to teach. They cannot be taught, and are better off on their own. She would only be a burden to you. I did her a kindness by helping her leave town … and you.”
Morgan closed his eyes, took a deep breath. “Let me make this simple, Aunt Eunice.” Then, to her shock, he grabbed her by both arms and dragged her toward the window. He let go only long enough to throw the window open. “You tell me where Daisy Evers is. If you don’t, I’m throwing you out this window.”
“Morgan!”
“It’s a long way down.” His voice was even, cold, a little too rational. “And no jury in this town will convict me. Knowing you as they do now, they might give me a medal.”
“You’re … you’re acting insane!”
“If I’ve gone ‘round the bend, it’s because that’s where you’ve driven me.” Morgan yanked her closer to the opening. “Now where. Is. SHE?”
* * *
Daisy gazed around Miss Brubauk’s small parlor. The tiny house was really quite lovely, with feminine touches everywhere – a sharp contrast to the sour-faced woman who owned it.
She sat and tried to make a list of possible jobs to look for. Tomorrow was Tuesday and she planned to start her search in the morning. She was still in shock that Miss Brubauk had helped her, and had had a hard time believing it at first. But, here she was, sitting in the woman’s parlor, doing her best to make out a list of job possibilities. Not to mention wanting very much to soak her tired feet. She’d spent over half the day looking around the city, trying to get ideas. But most of the jobs available required reading, usually lots of it.
“Let’s see, what can I do? I can cook … and wait tables.” She scribbled those down. “There’s always laundry.” She looked at her hands, grimaced, wrote it down anyway. “I can sew,” she said and wrote down “dressmaker.” Basically, there were the same job opportunities she’d had in Independence. “Maybe I could be a nanny?” she asked herself. But didn’t nannies have to read to children?
She slammed the pen down onto the small writing desk, and put her face in her hands. “Oh Lord, why did you make me this way? My life would be so much easier if I could just read properly –”
A knock suddenly sounded at the door.
With a gasp, Daisy sat up straight and looked at it. “Oh, no,” she muttered. “It couldn’t be.” But who else? Miss Brubauk had given her the only key; of course she would have to knock to be let in. “Now what’s going to happen to me?” Daisy asked as she stood. Would Miss Brubauk throw her out into the street? She wouldn’t put it past the woman. “Please, Lord, help me get through this …” She squared her shoulders and went to the door, took a deep breath, opened it …