by Erica Vetsch
Copyright
ISBN 978-1-60260-882-5
whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the permission of Truly Yours, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., PO Box 721, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683.
All scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.
All of the characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.
Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.
PRINTED IN THE U.S.A.
One
Duluth, Minnesota, 1906
“Josephine Zahn. Josie.” Her sister’s urgent whisper pierced the quiet of the front hall. “Why aren’t you dressed? We’re going to be late.”
Josie glanced up the stairs at Clarice leaning over the banister and made a shushing motion with her hand. She strained to hear the conversation going on in the parlor.
“Radcliffe, you don’t seem to grasp the situation. Josephine is brilliant, I tell you, and she should be allowed to continue her schooling. The world needs mathematicians like your daughter.” Good old Grandma Bess. Josie twisted her fingers and bit her lip.
“I’ve said all I’m going to say on this subject. Girls have no need of higher education. I’ll thank you not to fill her head with such nonsense—no doubt gleaned from those wretched magazines you insist on bringing into this house. Josephine won’t need higher education to run a household, and that’s what she’s destined for—to marry well and see to the needs of her house and husband. I knew I never should’ve let you talk me into hiring that engineer to tutor her. I’m tired of tripping over her blueprints and scratch paper, and I’m tired of hearing of trips to the harbor to study the ships. I scotched that behavior quickly. No daughter of mine is going to be hanging around the shipyards, and no daughter of mine is going to go to college.”
Josie’s heart dropped from her throat to her toes. If Grandma Bess couldn’t change Papa’s mind, it wasn’t going to get changed.
“Jo–sie.” Clarice spoke louder this time, drawing out the second syllable in admonition.
Josie glanced at the clock and turned away from the parlor doors. Grabbing up her skirts, she bolted up the stairs in a most unladylike manner. “I’ll be quick.”
Clarice sighed. “We’ll be late again. Papa’s going to be mad.”
“Papa’s already mad,” Josie muttered. She ducked into her room. Dropping onto the padded stool in front of her dressing table, she unpinned her black hair and picked up her hairbrush. Shrieks from down the hall made her roll her eyes at her reflection. Giselle and Antoinette, ever ready to jump into sister-squabbling chaos.
“They’re mine! Give them back!”
“You stole them from me!”
Scuffles and thumps from the nursery.
Josie laid the brush aside and swept her hair back over her shoulders in preparation for going into battle against the younger forces in the house. Before she could rise, little feet thudded on the runner in the hall.
Her door burst open, and Giselle flew in, Antoinette in full chase.
“Josie, help!” Giselle clutched a pair of white kid boots to her chest, her black hair floating wildly around her pale face. Her dark blue eyes pleaded with her older sister.
Josie stood, and Giselle took refuge behind her.
Antoinette put her hands on her hips, panting, cheeks red. “Jo, she’s got my shoes. Make her give them to me.”
Josie glanced over her shoulder at the enamel mantel clock while she tried to disengage Giselle’s grip from her skirt.
The moment Giselle appeared from behind Josie’s back, Antoinette made a wild lunge for the coveted footwear. The sprightly Giselle scampered away, leaping onto the canopied bed. The curtains swayed, and the bedsprings creaked. Antoinette’s momentum carried her into Josie’s desk. A column of books teetered for a moment then crashed to the floor, followed by a cascade of papers. In a final coup de grâce, the ink bottle tipped over onto the blotter. Undaunted, Antoinette started after Giselle, who shrieked again—a particular talent of hers—and scooted farther out of reach.
Josie sprang for the ink bottle, scooping it up before the stopper could free itself entirely but garnering a healthy dose of ink on her hand in the process. She held her dripping hand away from herself over the spattered blotter and dug with her clean hand for her handkerchief.
“Girls, stop it this instant!” Mama’s voice cut through the chaos like a thunderclap. Everyone froze, Josie included. Mama rarely ventured into the girls’ wing of the upstairs.
Josie swallowed hard and clutched her handkerchief over her stained fingers.
Giselle dropped onto her backside on the mattress. Josie almost smiled at the horrified expressions on her younger sisters’ faces. To be caught in an unladylike brawl by Mama certainly topped their “worst deeds” list.
Antoinette rushed into speech. “Mama, she took my—”
Giselle’s mouth opened for another wail, but Mama’s raised hand stopped her mid-inhale.
Mama turned to Josie. “I don’t know why you encourage their hoydenish behavior. Whatever their discrepancy is, fix it and do it quietly. I knew it was a mistake to bring them along to this wedding. The social event of the summer is no place for children. But when your father insists, we obey.” She looked at the rumpled bed and the glacier-tongue of papers and books on the floor. “This room is a disaster. Why must you always be surrounded by clutter? I have no intention of assigning a maid just to clean up after you. They have more than enough duties as it is. Take care of your own things.”
Protest of her innocence in the matter clogged Josie’s throat, but she knew it was pointless to argue. Mama saw things the way Mama wanted to see things, and that was that. Josie sent her sisters each a warning glare to keep their mouths shut.
Mama consulted the silver timepiece pinned to her lapel. “We will leave this house in exactly twenty-two minutes. Anyone not downstairs at that time can explain to her father why she made us late.” She swept out of the room.
Josie’s shoulders sagged, and her chin lowered to her chest. Just like Mama. If one Zahn girl was at fault, all were at fault.
Giselle’s lower lip quivered and two blobby tears tumbled down her cheeks.
Antoinette shrugged and stared at the floor. A suspicious moisture appeared at the corners of her eyes. The tongue-lashing Josie had intended to impart evaporated. Antoinette never cried.
“Antoinette, you go first and make it snappy. I’m not even dressed yet, and I don’t want to have to explain to Father what made me late.”
“She took my shoes. She can’t find hers, so she pinched mine.”
“Did not! These’re mine.”
Knowing if she didn’t jump in now they’d be back to shouting and chasing each other again, Josie stepped between them, dabbing at the ink blotches on the edge of her hand. “Stop it, both of you. Giselle, give me those shoes.”
Giselle handed over one boot then looked about the bed for the other one.
“Well, where is it?”
“I don’t know. I must’ve dropped it.” She shrugged, sending a hank of hair sliding over her shoulder and into her eyes.
“You’d lose the Canal Bridge if it was in your possession for two minutes. Give me your foot.” Josie grabbed Giselle’s ankle and held the boot sole against the little girl’s foot. “Look at that. It’s way too big. Toni was telling the truth.”
“I told you so.” Antoinette stuck her tongue out at Giselle and grabbed the boot. “Where’s the other one?
”
Giselle slid off the bed and shrugged again.
“Well, you had them both when you came in, so help me find it.” Josie tossed her soiled handkerchief onto the dressing table.
They found the shoe well back under the bed, though how it had gotten there, Josie couldn’t imagine. She had to lie flat on the floor and stretch out until she could grab the heel and drag it out.
“There, order restored, at least to Toni’s footwear. Now, both of you, scoot. Giselle, find your shoes. I have to dress.”
Antoinette sat on the edge of the bed to put on her boots. While she tugged at the buttons with the buttonhook, Josie opened her wardrobe and pulled out the pale blue dress her mother had chosen. She glanced over her shoulder to her sister. The fabric matched Antoinette’s. Mama insisted all her girls dress alike. Josie stuck her tongue out at the despised dress that made her one of the herd.
Antoinette straightened and stuck her foot out, rolling the ankle as much as the high boots would allow. “Stupid old boots.” She watched Josie shrug into the dress. “I wish I had my own room like you. Giselle is always taking my things.”
“Having your own room doesn’t always keep your things safe from little sisters.” Josie glanced at the mess of papers and books on the floor. At Antoinette’s guilty expression, she laughed. “I know just how you feel, chicken.”
She moved to the dressing table to pin up her hair. Getting her black hair into the relaxed bun dictated by current fashion never came easily to Josie. She turned her head this way and that, poking in pins until she was satisfied it looked as near the newspaper clipping of Charles Gibson’s “Gibson Girl”—conveniently stuck into the corner of the mirror for reference—as she could make it. She tilted her chin up and lowered her eyelashes, comparing her reflection to the print ad. Who was she kidding? Her face was too round, her nose tilted too much at the tip, and her mouth. . .her lips would never form that perfect little bow.
She turned on the stool and saw her own features, ten years younger, looking back at her from Antoinette’s face. “Maybe you can do what I do, Toni. Find little ways to break out, to be your own person.” She glanced at the clock. “Let’s go. It’s almost time.”
Josie scooped up her handbag and gloves and followed Antoinette down the stairs. Giselle bounced down the steps ahead of them, hair tied up in pale blue bows and feet shod in her own kid boots. Clarice waited with Mama and Papa in the foyer.
“Line up.” Papa’s side-whiskers jutted out as he pursed his lips.
Josie prayed for patience as they went through the familiar ritual. Clarice, Josie, Antoinette, and Giselle lined up shoulder to shoulder for his inspection. Four Zahn girls, black of hair, blue of eye, pale of skin.
“Very nice.” Papa walked down the line like a general inspecting his troops. “I’m expecting stellar behavior from you young ladies today. This is a momentous occasion, and I want you all there to celebrate it.”
Josie shot Clarice a questioning look. Why was Papa so interested in a society wedding? Clarice shrugged and shook her head.
“Now, the carriages are here. Octavia?” He offered his arm. “Bring—” He stopped, frowning and staring at the two youngest girls for a moment.
“Antoinette and Giselle?” Mama prompted.
“Yes, yes, Antoinette and Giselle. I knew that. Though why you had to give them all those fancy French names I’ll never know. As if good old-fashioned American names weren’t good enough. Should’ve called them Ann and Jane, like I suggested.” He continued this familiar rant out the door to the waiting carriages.
Josie sighed and followed Clarice out into the hot August sunshine. In this one instance she was in complete agreement with her father. Plain old American names would’ve served them better. But Mama had insisted on French names, and that was that
“Where’s Grandma Bess?” She waited for Clarice to climb into the second carriage.
“I’m right here.”
Josie smiled as Grandma descended the steps. Here was one woman no one would confuse for someone else. Grandma Bess, tall, spare, ramrod-straight, wore her customary lavender dress with black bead-and-lace trim and wide, swooping black hat with lavender ribbons trailing. Over her arm she carried an enormous black and lavender carpetbag that went everywhere with her.
Josie took her place in the corner of the carriage and looked out as they drove through the streets of Minnesota Point toward the Canal Bridge. She imagined Antoinette and Giselle in the carriage ahead would be squirming with anticipation. They loved riding the gondola across the water.
The steel structure of the bridge loomed ahead. A familiar tightening started in Josie’s middle. The five-minute ride on the suspended car across the open water of the canal always made her palms sweat and her heart beat fast.
But that wasn’t the only reason her pulse jumped. Every time she thought of seeing him again, she found it difficult to breathe. And she’d surely see him today. He was the brother of the groom, after all.
❧
Eli Kennebrae twirled his pencil like a baton, walking it up and down his fingers absently as he stared out the window past Grandfather’s head.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you.” Grandfather smacked the arm of his invalid chair. “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said.”
“Yes, I have. I just don’t like it. I thought you’d given up on these schemes.”
“When has a Kennebrae ever given up? You don’t have to like the idea. You just have to do it.”
“I don’t think so. You don’t have the same hold over me you had over Jonathan. As for Noah, well, you’re just lucky he fell in love with the girl, or today’s wedding wouldn’t be happening either.”
“No hold over you?” Abraham Kennebrae stiffened, challenge lighting his dark eyes. “I believe I do.”
Eli tucked the pencil behind his ear and tapped his papers neatly into a file folder. He leaned back on the settee and propped his ankle on his knee. “And just what is it you think you have that can force me into doing your bidding?”
“I have the Bethany.”
Eli’s leg came down, and he straightened. “What about the Bethany? You just agreed I could have her to modify with the new loading and storage system. She’s almost repaired to the point where I can start my modifications.”
“That’s right, I did. But I forgot to mention the conditions.”
Eli’s collar tightened.
“You can have the Bethany, and I’ll foot all the bills to convert her, but you have to agree to marry Radcliffe Zahn’s daughter before winter.” The cane back of Grandfather’s chair creaked a bit as he leaned into it and propped his elbows on the arms. He steepled his fingers under his chin and smiled complacently.
Eli met his stare, his mind racing. “And if I refuse?”
“No ship and no funding.”
He squeezed his eyes shut and clamped his lips tight. How like his grandfather to connive and manipulate to get his way. Stubborn old goat.
“Why? Why can’t you be happy with the way things turned out for Jonathan and Noah and leave me alone?”
“I gave Zahn my word months ago that a wedding would take place. And when a Kennebrae gives his word, he keeps it.”
“But you’re not keeping it. You’re expecting me to keep it.”
Again Grandfather’s hand pounded the arm of his chair. “That’s right, I am. Think of it as a business deal, between you and me. You get what you want, I get what I want. Zahn’s shipping more than a million board feet of lumber out of Duluth every year. Kennebrae Shipping should have a slice of that pie. Zahn as good as promised that a marriage between the families would guarantee we didn’t get just a slice but the whole pie, crust, filling, and meringue.”
Lumber, the perfect cargo for his new ship design. If he didn’t get the Bethany and the money from Grandfather for the modifications, he’d be forced to abandon ideas of building this summer. The year would be spent raising finance and cajoling investors, a job Eli hated.
A whole year would be wasted, assuming he could find anyone to back his ideas anyway. Why couldn’t he just build ships?
Jonathan ran the family shipping business with an ease Eli could never hope to duplicate. Eli’s twin, Noah, captained Kennebrae vessels on the lake, making a name for himself as a hard water captain who feared nothing. And what did Eli do? What mark had he made on the company? Nothing. Yet.
But he could, with this new design. All he had to do was say yes to Grandfather’s plans. And those plans hadn’t worked out too badly for Jonathan and Noah, had they? “I’ll think about it.”
Grandfather’s mouth curled in a satisfied smile. “I knew you’d come around.”
“I haven’t promised anything. I said I’d think about it.” Eli stood and gathered his papers. “The wedding is in half an hour. Guess I’d better change.”
“She’ll be here, you know.”
“Who?”
“The girl.” Grandfather let out an exasperated breath. “The whole Zahn family is invited.”
Eli frowned. This was all happening way too fast. Still, he didn’t have time to discuss it further right now. As the best man, he couldn’t be late for the wedding. As to meeting his future bride, well, he’d cross that bridge when he came to it. Jonathan and Noah hadn’t done too badly for themselves. Perhaps he would be the same.
Two
Josie tried not to stare as she stepped down from the carriage in front of Kennebrae House. The massive mansion built of stone filled her view and seemed to blot out the sunshine. Imposing was the only possible word for this place. Though she’d never been inside, she’d heard of its impressive opulence.
Her own father’s house, Belle Maison, named by her mother, was quite impressive, with three stories, a turret, and a wide, inviting porch that looked out upon Lake Superior. Though in a less fashionable part of town out on Minnesota Point, it still rivaled most of the mansions in Duluth. Except this one.
The family ascended the steps in a group, Josie and Grandma Bess bringing up the rear of the line. She wasn’t sure what held her back. This day had loomed large in her mind for weeks. Now that it had arrived, she wanted only to duck back into the carriage and speed home.