by Erica Vetsch
“On the contrary, child. These paintings took a particular brand of bravery. Bravery on the part of a woman to be who God made her to be. To use the talents He’s given her for His glory and the betterment of mankind.” Grandma shot Josie a pointed look. “It took a lot for these women to paint these fine pictures—confidence in their own abilities, a willingness to risk the condemnation of their male counterparts, and vulnerability to exhibit their work for the comments and criticism of the general public.”
“You make it sound like a battle.” Josie looked at the oil landscape in front her with new interest.
“It is a battle, dear, this struggle to be the women we were created to be. The tide is changing in America, but though the doors are opening for women, we must be careful how we charge through them. To rampage, to hurl ourselves against the male establishment, is to invite their scorn, to be treated as the hysterical females we’re acting like.” Grandma lowered herself to a bench and stacked her hands on her cane. The long ostrich feather decorating her hat wafted with her movements. “But my granddaughters”—she smiled at them—“are smarter than that. They have grace and dignity, as these women artists do. They will find ways to ensure men see them for the treasures they are, women of intelligence, ability, and sense, with God-given talents to be exercised and appreciated.”
Josie mulled over her words as they walked the remaining galleries. If she could paint like these ladies or sing or sew. . .or do anything as well as these ladies, maybe she’d be brave, too.
“And how are your mathematical studies coming along now that you’ve outgrown Clement’s instruction?” Grandma peered through her eyeglasses at a seascape, her back to Josie.
“Fine.”
“Have you ever considered what God wants you to do with your skills?”
“What can I do with them? Papa forbids higher education.” Josie stared at a herd of fat cows in a meadow. “Without a degree, no one will take me seriously. And women in mathematics are more rare than quiet when Giselle’s around.”
“Nonsense, child. Have you heard nothing I’ve said? God didn’t make a mistake when He gave you that brain, and He expects you to use it.” Grandma huffed in impatience. “Come along. All this walking has made me tired, and we don’t want to miss the last tram down the hill.”
Josie followed after her, confused and somehow dissatisfied with herself and the afternoon. Would Grandma consider a little clandestine mathematical consulting work to be using her talents wisely?
Six
Eli shoved a box of books out of the way with his foot and sagged into the new leather chair, allowing the smell of the upholstery to surround him. Why had he let Jonathan talk him into moving his office into the Kennebrae Building? Sure, it was closer to the shipyard, but was the upheaval worth it? Though he admitted to a small thrust of satisfaction seeing his name in gold letters on a door at Kennebrae Shipping, he hardly felt as if he deserved it—yet.
Eli hated change almost as much as he hated the time it took away from his plans for the Bethany. He really should see that everything was organized in here before delving into the designs again, but the drafting table pulled at him, beckoning him to get a new idea on paper before he lost it. Ignoring the books, papers, and boxes on the floor, Eli headed to his charts to jot the idea down. It would only take a minute or two, and he could get back to clearing away this mess and have his office organized by noon.
A knock startled him out of his concentration, and he glanced at the wall clock by the door, surprised that more than three hours had passed.
Geoff opened the door and stepped in, weaving around the clutter. “Looks like the aftermath of Bull Run in here.” The lawyer picked up a wooden ship model poking out of a carton. “McKay said you’d be tinkering at the drafting table instead of tidying up. Guess he knows you pretty well. I got the impression he was itching to get in here and put things to rights.” He set the model on the mantel and stepped back, clunking into a pile of books.
Eli rubbed the side of his head and yawned, relaxing his jaw after such a long period of intense concentration. He rolled his shoulders and flexed the fingers of his writing hand. “Sometimes I lose track of time. I’ll get it shipshape. Anyway, having visited your office, I know firsthand you’re not the tidiest lawyer in town.”
Geoff grinned and picked up a book, scanned the spine, and replaced it. “Is that any way to treat a man who comes bearing gifts?”
“Gifts? Well, in that case, your office is impeccable. I wouldn’t change a thing.” Eli shifted a rolled-up rug off a chair and beckoned Geoff to sit. “What gift?”
The chair creaked like a new saddle. “You are in need of a mathematician, I believe?”
Eli’s heart thumped. “You’ve found someone?”
“I found someone.” He laced his fingers across his vest and stuck his feet out to the cold hearth. “Professor Zechariah Josephson.”
“A math professor? Perfect. When can I meet him, show him the plans?”
Geoff studied the tips of his shoes. “We–ell,” he drew the word out, “that might be a problem. You see, Professor Josephson is a recluse, preferring to work alone in his study. He doesn’t entertain visitors and rarely leaves his house. He’s interested in your project, but all correspondence would have to take place through me to preserve his privacy.”
Refusal hovered on Eli’s lips. “How can we work together if we can’t even go over the plans face-to-face? And where did you find this fellow anyway? Do you trust him? Is he any good at what he does?”
Geoff coughed and cleared his throat, then stared at his fingertips. “He’s a friend of a friend, and I’ve seen some of his work. Complicated stuff—flow dynamics, load equations, stuff like that. Way over my head, but he’s confident he can help you. But remaining at arm’s length is unconditional. He won’t have his privacy invaded. You write out in detail what it is you’re trying to accomplish, give me the notes and a copy of your drawings, and I’ll deliver them to Professor Josephson. When the calculations are ready, I’ll bring them to you.”
Impossible. Design a ship with a partner he’d never met? And yet, secrecy was of utmost importance. Who better than a recluse who never left his house? Eli spent a second wondering what Grandfather and Jonathan would say then thrust that line of thought aside. It was his project, his design. He could choose whomever he wanted to work on it. After all, it had cost him a pretty penny to achieve—engagement to a woman he barely knew.
“All right, we’ll try it. It will take me a couple days to get some notes together. Is the professor local? Will it take much time to get the plans to him?”
Again Geoff contemplated his shoes. “I can have it to him in under an hour from the time you give them to me.”
Eli sat back. “That will make it easier, though I’m surprised I haven’t heard of this Professor Josephson. Has he done much work in the area of ship design?” Doubts trickled into his mind.
“Why don’t you just try him out? If the project doesn’t go like you’d hoped, you can always call things off.”
Too much was riding on this to call it off. The respect of his grandfather and his brothers, the chance to do what he’d always dreamed of doing, the chance to earn this spacious office he’d been given just because his name was Kennebrae. No, he wouldn’t call it off.
The signal on the desk buzzed.
Eli levered himself out of his chair and flipped the switch to the new intercom system Grandfather had installed the previous winter. “Yes?”
“Mr. Kennebrae, there’s a Mr. Fox here to see you.”
Eli sighed and put his palm on the back of his neck. “Send him to the boardroom. I’ll meet him there.”
“Gervase Fox?” Geoff rose.
“Yes. That man is everywhere. He pops up like a gopher every time I turn around. Come with me to see what he wants.”
They entered the boardroom through the private entrance from the Kennebrae office suite to find Gervase standing with his hands clasped be
low a life-sized oil painting of Abraham Kennebrae in his prime—before his stroke. Abraham stood tall and straight in the picture, his black eyes seeming alive and full of fire, his broad shoulders and strong hands indicative of the power of his mind and will. The portrait had long intimidated Eli, and when he found himself in this room, he usually maneuvered to sit where he couldn’t see it.
Fox turned and smiled. The sight of so many teeth gave Eli the willies, and he braced himself for the man’s aggressive handshake. “Eli, thank you for meeting with me.”
Eli noted the use of his first name with irony. They weren’t on a first-name basis, but he decided to play along. “Gervase, what brings you down here?” The Duluth offices of Keystone Steel and Shipping were in a less prestigious part of town than the Kennebrae offices.
“You, son. I want to discuss the repair and refit on the Bethany. I’m interested in those modifications, and I’m willing to pay top dollar for them. Not only that, but I’m offering you a job as my ship designer. And I’m willing to pay top dollar for you as well.” He named a sum that caused Eli’s head to reel.
Geoff sucked in a gasp, and when Eli darted a look at his lawyer, Geoff’s face took a moment to return to its usual politely interested expression.
“That’s a lot of money, Gervase, and I do appreciate the offer, but I’m afraid I couldn’t possibly leave Kennebrae Shipping.” Eli leaned against the back of one of the tall chairs flanking the table, trying to appear more relaxed than he felt.
“Don’t be a fool. You won’t get that much a year from anyplace else, and you’re low man on the totem pole around here. Jonathan will inherit, and where will you be? Noah’s set, marrying money like he did. But you, you’re engaged to a woman who is one of a gaggle of females. Whatever her father settles on her at her marriage is likely to be all you get. He’s got a fleet of girls to launch, and a lot of dowries to pay. Zahn’s rich, but he isn’t that rich. I’m offering you a sizeable sum for your ideas and a great deal more for your services.” Gervase’s eyes glittered much like Abraham’s in the portrait over his head. “Tell him, Fordham. Tell him what a fair offer I’m making.”
Geoff’s brows had come down, and red climbed his cheeks. His hands shook slightly.
Eli’s heart warmed to see Geoff so angry on his behalf. “Geoff doesn’t have to say anything. I can make up my own mind. You’ve got a lot of nerve thinking you can buy me like you buy a trainload of wheat or a shipload of ore. I’m not for sale, Mr. Fox.” He trod hard upon the name, emphasizing his desire to distance himself from the odious little man. “Geoff, would you be so kind as to show Mr. Fox out then come back to my office for those plans. I’d like to get them delivered as soon as possible.”
Gervase’s face smoothed out, but his eyes hardened. “I hope you don’t regret your decision, young man. Keystone Steel and Shipping will be the biggest company on the lakes, and Kennebrae Shipping will be trying to keep up. Your grandfather and brothers have stood in my way long enough.” He turned on his heel and strode out, slamming the door so hard behind him, the frosted glass pane vibrated in his wake.
❧
Josie followed Grandma Bess into the pew at the Kennebraes’ church, feeling acutely the gap where Clarice should be sitting. Clarice sat in the row before them at Mama’s insistence. Right beside Eli, her fiancé. Mama insisted they all attend here this morning. Didn’t want to miss a single congratulation, no doubt.
Organ music swelled out as people found their seats. Normally, Josie would’ve taken in all the details of the sanctuary, it being her first time at this church, but she was so miserable sitting so close to Eli and having him out of her reach, she couldn’t muster the curiosity.
Josie leaned forward slightly and saw Antoinette elbow Giselle. Mama quelled them both, and Josie sat back. All of them were attired in rose dresses with ivory lace trim. Antoinette and Giselle wore ivory pinafores, but aside from that, all four girls looked identical. Josie thumbed through the songbook and wished she had coppery red hair or dusky olive skin or eyes black as an Ojibwe, something, anything, to be different, to stand out from her sisters and be noticed as more than just one of the Zahn girls.
The reverend took his place in the pulpit and motioned for the congregation to stand and join in the first hymn.
Eli stood and angled his body to share a hymnal with Clarice. Clarice held herself rigid, keeping space between them at all times. If it had been Josie, she’d have inched as close as she dared, just to be near him, to feel the warmth of his arm pressed to hers, perhaps to let their fingers touch.
Grandma Bess tugged Josie’s sleeve. She started and realized the song had ended and everyone else had resumed their seats. Red hot embarrassment scuttled up her cheeks, and she plopped into the pew.
“Our text for today is found in the Psalms, chapter 139 and verse 16. ‘Thine eyes did see my substance, yet being unperfect; and in thy book all my members were written, which in continuance were fashioned, when as yet there was none of them.’ David knew that God had planned his existence long before David ever drew his first breath. Jesse, David’s father, had many sons—strong, brave, handsome sons. Seven of them passed before Samuel, and yet God didn’t choose any of them to be king. He chose David, whom He had equipped specifically for kingship before David was even born.”
Josie’s attention wandered from contemplating Eli’s broad shoulders to center on the reverend. Poor David. Seven brothers. Three sisters were bad enough.
The preacher expounded on how unique David was within his own large family, and how God had given him special abilities.
And he wasn’t afraid to use them. Not against bears, lions, or giants of the Philistines. Josie ran her thumbnail along the edge of her open Bible in her lap. He wasn’t afraid to be the man God made him to be. Visions of the paintings from the exhibition floated in her mind. All those women who used their talents. Grandma’s admiration for them. Josie’s own desire to study higher mathematics and use her talents and gifts. David didn’t let anyone keep him from using his gifts. Resolve began to harden in her.
The service ended before Josie was ready, before she’d pursued to the end all her thoughts on the passage. When the reverend voiced the final prayer, Josie added her own to it.
God, I know You made me just the way I am, and You gave me a love of mathematics. Help me to put aside my feelings for Eli and concentrate on being the woman you made me to be. Help me to use my talents for Your glory, like David did. Amen.
She stood to sing the doxology, more peaceful in spirit than she could remember being in a long time. Though her heart squeezed in a vise of longing tinged with regret, she kept her eyes focused on the pulpit. Eli would have to cease to matter to her. She couldn’t be a serious mathematician and be mooning over her sister’s fiancé at the same time. She’d just have to put him out of her mind.
“Eli, you will join us for dinner? You and your grandfather?” Mama made the request sound like a command.
Josie’s peace cracked like lake ice during the spring thaw. This was going to be harder than she thought.
Clarice shot an imploring glance over Josie’s shoulder. Josie turned to see Geoffrey, his hands fisted at his sides. Apprehension twisted her middle. Having all of them in such close proximity reminded her of the subterfuge they’d entered into. Her conscience protested. Here she stood in the house of God, deceiving everyone around her in one form or another.
Dinner would be a nightmare.
Seven
As it turned out, Sunday dinner differed little from any other. A messenger had arrived at the church as they were exiting, whispering to Mr. Kennebrae and departing.
“You’ll have to excuse us, Mrs. Zahn.” Mr. Kennebrae motioned for his carriage to be brought up. “It seems my grandchild has chosen to make his appearance nearly a month early. We must get back to Kennebrae House to await his arrival.”
Eli had assisted his grandfather into the coach and departed with hardly a backward glance.
When the family trooped home, Clarice went straight to bed with a headache. Mama fussed and flitted, and mid-afternoon sent Josie up with a cup of tea to check on Clarice.
Josie tapped on the door and entered. Though the pulled shades shrouded the room in darkness, she walked confidently. The furnishings exactly matched those in Josie’s own room; in this aspect, too, Mama expected them to be identical. The only marked difference was the desk. Clarice’s desktop was bare, not a pencil, not a book, not so much as a box of stationery. Josie couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen the entire top of her own desk. “Mama sent up some chamomile. How’s your head?” She directed the comments to the lump under the covers.
The bundle shifted, and Clarice’s face appeared in the gloom. “The head’s fine.”
Josie set the tea tray on the dressing table and sank onto the bed. “Useful things, headaches.” She laced her fingers around the post at the foot of the bed and leaned back. “Keeps you from having to do all sorts of things.”
“Humph. If it would keep me from having to marry Eli Kennebrae, I’d come down with a migraine for the rest of my adult life.”
Josie pursed her lips. “I’ve come to a decision today. You want to hear what it is? It might take your mind off things for a while.”
Clarice scooched up to rest against the mounds of lacy pillows. Her knees bent up to form a slope of bedspread. “Nothing will take my mind off things, but go ahead. I can see you’re dying to tell me.”
“I’m going to be the woman God made me to be.” Josie couldn’t keep the triumph out of her voice.
“Congratulations.” Clarice looped her arms around her shins and rested her chin on her knees. She gave Josie a dubious look.
“No, seriously. I’ve decided to be like those painters we saw this week. I’m going to go to college and study mathematics.”