The Spinster (Emerson Pass Historicals Book 2)

by Tess Thompson

  “My wife was our first schoolteacher,” Papa said.

  “What about you, Miss Fiona?” Phillip asked. “What will you do?”

  “I sing and play the piano,” Fiona said. “I might be a teacher like Mama was before I get married and have lots and lots of babies.”

  “Fiona’s a very good singer,” Cymbeline said, sounding proud. “She’s going to sing in church this coming Sunday.”

  “Would you like to come and hear me?” Fiona asked Phillip.

  “I’d love nothing more.” Phillip returned his attention to his soup.

  Mama smiled over at me before taking a bite of her soup.

  “Speaking of businesses in town, I spoke with the boys who run the saloon,” Papa said. “They’re worried about January.”

  Prohibition took effect in January. The café, as it was now called, would most likely still serve drinks but in secret. Fortunately for them, our local law enforcement were frequent patrons of the saloon. Papa felt certain they would look the other way. He purposely stayed quiet about how he felt about the Eighteenth Amendment for fear of alienating either side of the political argument. He was a businessman and the self-appointed father of Emerson Pass. He saw his job as one of support and inspiration, not rules.

  “What’s your opinion of Prohibition?” Mama asked Phillip. “The twins are adamantly opposed. I suppose coming from their time in Europe, the idea seems provincial.”

  “I can’t say I have an opinion one way or the other,” Phillip said.

  Papa chuckled. “Very diplomatic of you.”

  “I’m quite for it,” Mama said. “Nothing good ever happened between the walls of a saloon.”

  “How do you know?” Cymbeline asked.

  “Have you been to one?” Fiona asked.

  “I’ve never set foot in a place like that, no. However, some things a woman just knows,” Mama said. “Are you a drinking man, Phillip?”

  “I’ve had a drink before,” Phillip said.

  “Quinn, stop quizzing our new friend,” Papa said, laughing. “If he’d like a whiskey with me after dinner, then he shall have one.”

  “I shouldn’t like to upset the mistress of the house,” Phillip said, smiling. “So whatever she advises is what I’ll do.”

  “That’s wise,” Fiona said in her innocent way. “Mama only wants what’s best for us.”

  “You’re very lucky to have a mama such as this one,” Phillip said.

  “We know,” Cymbeline said. “Our other mother died.”

  “And God sent Mama to us,” Fiona said.

  “We don’t remember her,” Cymbeline said. “But we’ve seen a painting. Jo looks just like her.”

  My stomach churned. I didn’t like it when the girls talked about how much I looked like our mother, even though it was true. She’d left us when we needed her. I couldn’t forgive her for that. We were better off with our Mama Quinn anyway. But still, thinking of the way Mother had died angered me. How could she leave us that way? She’d purposely walked into a frozen world where she knew she would die. Leaving Papa to raise five children on his own. Leaving me, at nine years old, to take her place, robbing me of my childhood. I knew the answer. She’d been unwell. Her sense of reality damaged. Yet there it remained. The anger like a red-hot knot in my stomach.

  I looked up from my soup to find Papa watching me. I smiled at him to assure him all was well. He knew my thoughts, though, and where I went sometimes in my mind. We’d lived through all of it together. Only once in a long while would I see him drift away to that dark time. Theo, too. The others had escaped without the permanent damage we’d endured.

  “You’re absolutely right, dear husband,” Mama was saying. “I’m only teasing you, Phillip. You may do as you please. Consider our home your home.”

  Phillip’s brow wrinkled. “Speaking of which, do you think there’s a place in town I could rent? A room somewhere?”

  “There’s the boardinghouse,” Papa said. “But there’s no reason you shouldn’t stay here. We have more than enough rooms.”

  “We’d really like it if you’d stay here,” Mama said. “I promise not to ask too many questions at dinner.”

  “I don’t mind,” Phillip said. “I’m only too happy to answer anything. The nuns used to tease me that I was incapable of lying, even when I’d done something wrong and fibbing would’ve saved a knuckle rapping.”

  “What’s that?” Fiona asked.

  “It’s when they took a ruler and smacked our knuckles,” Phillip said. “No one liked it, I can assure you.”

  “Were you often in trouble?” I asked.

  “Not often,” Phillip said. “I wanted nothing more than to please the kind women who gave their life to take care of children no one wanted. The only times I got in trouble were because of Walter. He was forever coming up with ideas about how to escape or steal food.”

  “Walter? Really?” I couldn’t imagine him to be an unruly boy. During our time together, he’d been the perfect gentleman. Well-mannered and polite, deferring to my wishes. “In my experience, he was a rule-follower.”

  “Was he?” Phillip asked me. “Perhaps you brought that out in him.”

  “Boys can be rascals and grow up to be fine young men,” Mama said. “Flynn was always in scrapes when he was little.”

  I glanced at Papa. His gaze was fixed on Phillip with obvious interest. I knew that expression. He was attempting to suss out what Phillip had meant when he said Walter had led him into trouble. A twinge of irritation pushed its way in. As much as I adored my father, his attitude toward Walter annoyed me. He hadn’t known him. Who was he to judge? He and Mama had fallen in love quickly. How was my experience different?

  “How long were you and Walter together at the orphanage?” Papa asked.

  “Only a few years,” Phillip said. “When we were twelve, one of his attempts to run away was successful. The next time I saw him was in the army.”

  “Why did he want to run away?” Mama asked.

  “I don’t know,” Phillip said. “The nuns were good to us. It wasn’t as if we had anywhere to go.”

  “Isn’t it strange how you ended up together in the army?” Mama asked.

  “Yes ma’am, it is. I could hardly believe my eyes.” Phillip set aside his spoon as our maid, Lila, brought up the main course—roast beef with carrots and potatoes. She took the platter to Mama first and then to me. The aroma of rosemary and onion wafted up from the platter as she scooped a small portion onto my plate.

  “Thank you, Lila, this smells delicious,” Mama said.

  Phillip’s face lit up when it was his turn to be served. “I’ve never eaten as good as I have today, and I’ve only been here six hours.” When everyone had their portion, it amused me to see the way Phillip dug into his food. I liked his humility and easy way with my sisters and his politeness to my parents. This was a good man. Coming here would be good for him. Everyone needed community and a sense of belonging.

  He needed some good luck after everything he’d been through. My letters had brought him here. Something good had come from my writing. This brought me a sense of relief. Walter could not come back to me. But at least I’d made a difference in a man’s life that truly needed some luck.

  Four days had passed since Phillip’s arrival. I hadn’t seen him as much as expected. He’d spent most of his days with Harley in the barn and shed, learning how he could be of service. I was busy at the library and had only seen him during dinners, but already it felt as if he’d always been with us. He spoke enthusiastically about the animals and all that he’d learned from Harley. On the way upstairs one night, he confessed to being physically exhausted at night and falling fast asleep.

  On that fourth afternoon, I returned early from work and instead of going inside the house, I went out to the barn to look for Phillip. We hadn’t had much opportunity to talk, and I wanted to ask him questions about Walter’s death. I found him tossing hay into the horses’ stalls. Oz and Willie were already eat
ing. Pearl and Lucy were patiently waiting.

  “Hello,” I said.

  He turned quickly and smiled. “Jo, hey.”

  I hustled over to him. “How are you holding up? Have they worked you too hard?”

  “Not a bit. I love it. I’m even getting used to these beauties.” He patted Oz on the nose.

  “Is it all right sleeping with the boys?”

  “Sure thing. It’s fun, actually. Reminds me a little of being with the other boys at the orphanage, except we don’t get in trouble for talking past nine.”

  “I’m glad. I wanted to make sure you knew you were invited to the festival with the family.”

  “Your mother already told me I was to come,” he said. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  Before I could ask him anything else, Theo and Flynn burst through the barn doors, their voices loud and excited. They both stopped when they saw us.

  “Just the man we wanted to see,” Flynn said.

  “Phillip, we wondered if you could come to town with us in the morning,” Theo said. “We’re helping to set up for the festival and could use another strong man.”

  “Sure, I’d be happy to help,” Phillip said.

  “Do you skate?” Theo asked Phillip.

  “No. Never,” Philip said. “I don’t have skates, so I’ll watch.”

  “We’ll get you a pair tonight,” Flynn said. “Everyone in Emerson Pass skates.”

  “Do skates cost a lot?” Phillip asked, his gaze on his feet.

  He would be worried about the money for something that wasn’t a necessity. Shame on us for being insensitive. We should have thought of that before announcing that he would be obligated to skate like the rest of the young people in town.

  “Our treat,” Flynn said, obviously thinking fast. “In exchange for helping us set up tomorrow.”

  “Right,” Theo said. “Consider it a gift for helping out around here. Papa says you’re doing a great job. Flynn and I are busy with our skiing enterprise and don’t have time to pitch in like we should.”

  “Yes, all right.” One corner of Phillip’s mouth twitched into a half smile. “I’ll feel foolish, but if I’m going to fit in around here, I need to skate.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Flynn said. “Let’s head to town now. Mrs. Johnson will have your size.”

  “I’ll see you later, then?” Phillip asked me.

  “You can count on it.” I waved them off and turned to the chickens. Lizzie might need extra eggs for the desserts she was making for the festival. She loved how everyone fought to have her cake over all the others.

  There were three eggs, all warm from the hens’ nesting. I placed them carefully in the bucket we kept for this purpose.

  Doodle came strutting toward me as I crossed over to the door. For a split second, I thought of Walter. What was it about Doodle that had made me think of him? I put the thought aside and locked the barn door.

  I was thoroughly chilled by the time I went back inside the house. Jasper, as if he’d been waiting for me, stood by the foyer closet.

  “Are you all right, Miss Josephine?” Jasper asked. “Your eyes look tired this afternoon. You’re not coming down with a cold, I hope?”

  “I didn’t sleep well, but I’m fine. Thank you for asking.” I’d tossed and turned all night for no reason at all.

  “Your mother would like to see you in the sitting room,” Jasper said.

  I thanked him and went to the sitting room, where Mama was at the desk writing. She looked up as I approached. Her gentle smile welcomed me. “Hello, darling. You’re home early.”

  “We were slow, so I left Dolly in charge.”

  “Are you hungry? You look tired. Have you eaten today?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. Did you need me for something?”

  “Nothing in particular. I haven’t seen you much this week.” She stood from the desk and asked if I’d join her near the fire. It wasn’t yet teatime. The fire crackled as I sat in one of the armchairs. A yawn escaped before I could swallow it. I ignored Mama’s concerned glance.

  “I was just out in the barn,” I said. “Phillip seems to be adjusting to country life.”

  “I’m delighted by the young man. He’s such a hard worker. Nothing seems to deter him, either. He just cheerfully goes about his work.”

  “He seems to like it here,” I said.

  “He’s handsome, isn’t he?” Mama asked.

  “Is he? I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Lying doesn’t look good on you, Jo.”

  “Mama, I’m not lying. Why would you say such a thing?”

  “I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

  “I do not look at him any way at all, other than as Walter’s friend.”

  “Do you think it’s odd that Walter ran away from the orphanage? Why would he have done that?”

  “Maybe it was awful there.” Where was she headed with this? I tried not to bristle, but it was already too late.

  “Phillip said the nuns were good to them,” Mama said.

  “As you said, Phillip tends to see things very positively.”

  “Isn’t that a wonderful quality?”

  “Mama, what are you trying to say?” I asked with an edge of impatience in my voice.

  “Nothing, darling. Just that you two have a lot in common. You’d have to be blind not to notice those eyes of his.”

  “Well, I haven’t. Walter was the love of my life. There’s no need for a Phillip.”

  “A Phillip?”

  “Don’t sound like that. I’m merely saying that he’s nothing to me, other than a friend of the man I loved and lost.”

  “Many people have fallen in love through letter writing without once meeting in person.”

  Fall in love? Had she lost her mind? “The difference is that those letters weren’t to him. He read them as a distraction while he was convalescing. Not because of anything genuine between us, since I wasn’t even aware of him. He said he read them as if they were a good book.”

  “I think he came here for more than the fresh air,” Mama said.

  “I’m sorry to be impertinent, but that’s ridiculous.”

  “Aren’t you at all curious about why you’re so insistent on remaining loyal to Walter?”

  “I don’t need to be curious. I already know why.”

  “A fear of losing someone again isn’t a good enough reason. Your whole life will pass you by, Jo, holding on to a ghost. Your sisters and all your friends will marry and have families and what will you be doing? Escaping forever into a book instead of living your own life?”

  I’d like to have pretended that Mama’s words didn’t bother me. However, they did. She was right. I would have to stand by and watch from the corner of the room like a wallflower as my sisters and even Poppy fell in love and married. “I made a promise. Shouldn’t that mean something?”

  “It should. But promising the rest of your life to a dead man makes no sense at all, and you know it. I’ve never known you to be afraid of anything, Josephine Barnes. Until now.”

  I rose wearily to my feet. “I’m not sure what you’re doing, Mama, but goading me into forgetting about Walter isn’t going to work. I loved him with all my heart. What would you say to me if it were you who’d been left a widow because Papa died? Would you just move on as everyone seems to want me to do?”

  “Walter wasn’t your husband.”

  I stared at her with my mouth partially hanging open for a second or two. “He would have been.”

  “Are you sure about that? Because he certainly never made that clear to your papa. He didn’t write to you but once a month.” She put up a hand. “Don’t make excuses for him. He was simply too lazy or didn’t care enough to write to you after every letter he received. Is that what you would have accepted as a wife? A man who only filled you up halfway? Don’t you dare sit there and tell me his lack of correspondence didn’t hurt.”

  “It’s no good speculating at this venture, Mama. I’ll never know wh
at it’s like to be married to him. As you’ve so aptly said, he’s dead.”

  “We didn’t raise you to accept second best, Josephine.”

  “Walter was the best. Writing letters isn’t the totality of a man’s character.” With that, I strode to the door and fled up the stairs. The moment I was in the bedroom, I threw myself on my bed and burst into tears.

  Josephine

  The evening of the festival, my sisters and I were all bundled up in our warmest outerwear and tucked under blankets in the large sleigh. Papa and Mama were in the front, sitting together as closely as two people could. Overhead, the stars blessed us with their beauty. A sliver of the moon hung over the northern mountain. In the quiet of the evening, even the horses seemed hushed, their hooves making a pleasant pitter-patter through the soft snow. All morning and into the late afternoon, powdery flakes had tumbled from the heavens. Around three, the clouds had parted and drifted away, replaced by a sky more purple than blue until the short day transitioned into darkness.

  I had the little girls on either side of me. One thick blanket was tucked over all three of us, creating a pocket of warmth from our bodies. The sweet scent of their freshly washed hair tucked under their matching blue caps mingled with the smells of the piney forest.

  Delphia’s excitement was palpable. She leaned forward, the muscles in her neck straining to see around Mama. “I can’t see town yet, Jo.”

  “You will. Be patient,” Mama said.

  “Look at the stars instead,” I said to Delphia.

  Delphia jerked her head upward, moving the blanket, which let in a burst of cold air.

  “The stars,” Addie said with a sigh as she tilted her face toward the sky. She shivered, either from the chill or the poignant beauty of the night. I put my arm around her narrow shoulders and pulled her closer to my side. There were times with all my sisters that I could hear their thoughts despite the lack of words, but no one more than with my dear Addie. Like me, she could not fathom the beauty of the night. There were things that could not be explained, both good and bad in this world. I wished Addie would only know nights such as this one but I feared that would not be true. Still, I knew this one undeniable truth. One must keep on despite disappointments and losses, because good times would come again. Sweet was stronger than sour, courage stronger than fear.