“I’m sure Cook will spare a little butter for those burned fingers. Are you sure you’re all right? You don’t seem quite yourself. In fact, if I didn’t know better, I would think you to be an entirely different Judith than the woman I sent back to Kansas City.”
Jillian swallowed hard. “I’m afraid my grandmother’s death has left me feeling out of sorts,” she replied honestly. In truth, Grandmother Danvers’ death had left her quite shaken and upset, but that was hardly the reason for her poor performance that afternoon.
“Well, I’m sure we can all understand that,” Gwen replied sweetly. “I’ve lost dear loved ones myself.”
Jillian nodded and felt a sense of relief when Kate led her to the kitchen and helped her to butter her burns.
“Ya’ve not burned them bad,” she informed Jillian after inspection. “For sure not as bad as that time ya spilled the hot water on yar arm.” She smiled and gave Jillian a strange wink. “But had that man not pinched yar backside, ya might not have upset that pot on yarself.”
Jillian had no idea what Kate was talking about. Hot water? Burned arm? Judith had said nothing about this.
“There,” Kate said satisfactorily. “Ya’ll be as good as new in the morning. Now, we’d best get out there and see who’s come to be dining with us.”
Jillian tried to remember what Judith had said about the dining room and what took place after the train had pulled out. She remembered there were stations to be cleaned and such, but she now feared she had grossly misunderstood the things required of her.
The dining room held only a handful of new customers. Most were railroad workers, sweaty and greasy from their hard labor. One man, a tall, beefy sort of fellow, stood for a moment listening intently to Miss Carson before finally taking his seat.
“Miss Danvers, please bring Mr. Matthews some coffee.”
Jillian nodded and went to where the silver serving pots were lined up on the sideboard. She lifted one pot and found it nearly empty. Bypassing that one, she found the next one to be nearly full. Feeling more confident with fewer people to demand her attention, Jillian moved across the room at a quick pace. She had nearly reached the table where Gwen remained in conversation with Mr. Matthews when her heel caught the edge of the chair and she stumbled forward.
The pot surged forward, barely remaining in Jillian’s grasp, while the lid popped up to allow the contents to pour out and rain down on the seated man.
Gasping an apology as the man leaped to his feet, Jillian felt a complete sense of horror as she realized she’d emptied nearly half the pot on Mr. Matthews’ jean-clad legs.
“I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!” she kept repeating even as the man assured her he was all right.
“Judith! What has gotten into you!” Gwen declared. “I’ve never seen you so incompetent.”
“It’s all right, Miss Carson,” the man soothed. “I’m no worse for the wear.”
Jillian wanted to crawl in a hole and never be seen again. She couldn’t begin to explain her clumsiness, and it was only after allowing herself to look upward again that she noticed the badge on Mr. Matthews’ shirt. Great, she thought, not only do I assault this man, but he’s a lawman as well.
The man seemed to notice her fixed gaze and laughed. Jillian felt even more embarrassed at his response.
“Zack Matthews,” the man announced, holding out his hand for her to shake. “I’m the new sheriff.”
“Oh my,” Jillian managed to say as she put the coffeepot on the table before greeting him properly. “Jil . . . Judith Danvers,” she said, stumbling over the introduction.
“Miss Danvers has generally been one of my better workers,” Gwen added. “Today, however, she is greatly preoccupied. No doubt she’s just tired from her trip. Are you certain you’re not seriously burned, Mr. Matthews?”
“Nah, I’m fine. Don’t go worryin’ about it.” He smiled at Jillian and Gwen, then sniffed the air. “I’m too hungry to think about anything else.”
Gwen smiled and Jillian picked up the coffeepot. “We’ll have you served in a quick minute,” Gwen stated and reached out to take the coffeepot away from Jillian. “Miss Danvers, you must go change your uniform. You know what Mr. Harvey says about stains and spills.”
Jillian looked down to see that her once white apron was dotted and marred with coffee. “Yes, Miss Carson. I’ll see to it right away.”
She left the dining room feeling a great amount of relief. I wonder when the next train comes through? She mulled the idea of giving up Judith’s job and returning to Kansas City. She had a little bit of money saved up. Maybe she could pay back whatever amount of forfeited wages Mr. Harvey required. Judith said it could be as high as half her wages for all the months she’d actually worked. Doing mental calculations, Jillian headed down the hall.
Before she could reach the back stairs, however, a couple of Harvey Girls grabbed her and gave her an endearing embrace.
“Oh, Judith, it’s so good to have you back. The place just isn’t the same without you!”
“I thought I would die of boredom without you here to keep us entertained,” the other one stated after giving Jillian a quick peck on the cheek. “Sorry you had such a bad day.”
Jillian tried to laugh off her earlier mishaps. They were all so sweet, and she didn’t know when she’d felt more welcomed or cared for. Too bad those feelings were really reserved for her sister.
“It’s good to be here,” she lied. “I suppose none of us shall be bored any longer.”
THREE
AT THE END OF HER FIRST WEEK, Jillian found herself more exhausted and sore than she’d ever been in her life. She had never had to get on her knees and scrub hardwood floors before this, and her kneecaps were so tender from this exertion that she wondered if they would ever feel normal again. Not only that, but every muscle in her body seemed to scream in protest. Even the one day off she was given in the middle of the week did little to restore her to her full strength.
But perhaps the biggest problem to contemplate came in the form of a letter from home. Judith wrote to say that she’d eloped with her beloved Martin, and after spending a night in what she scrawled as “wedded bliss,” they had returned home to deal with Judith’s parents. It hadn’t gone well. From the moment they realized that it was Jillian and not Judith who’d boarded the evening train, there had been no peace. Judith joked about how preoccupied their mother had been with arranging a meeting between “Jillian” and her latest potential suitor that she hadn’t even noticed that Jillian was the one who had gone to Arizona. Their mother was the only one who could ever tell them apart by simply looking. Others relied on the girls’ behavior to distinguish the twins from each other. Their father had never even given it serious thought. After all, children were the responsibility of mothers and governesses.
But, Judith wrote, when their mother learned the truth, she took to her bed in complete misery, causing even Judith to feel a bit guilty. Their father, upon seeing his wife so ill disposed, railed at the servants and Judith until she thought he would bring down the rafters.
Judith’s letter did little to put Jillian at ease. If she were to make it at the Harvey House until June, she would have to have the cooperation of her overbearing father. Visions of Colin Danvers debarking the next train, ranting and raving at the top of his lungs for his daughter to return to Kansas City, haunted Jillian even in her sleep.
Hastily penning a note to her mother and father, Jillian appealed to her father’s business sense. She pointed out the situation with Judith’s wages and made a comment about the senselessness of having to turn over a lump sum of money to Fred Harvey when Jillian was happy to help Judith out. Then midway through the missive, she humbled herself and appealed to his good nature—although she wasn’t entirely convinced that her father had a good nature. She knew, however, that he was a fair man. For all his tirades and seeming insensitivity to the needs of his women, Colin Danvers would listen to reason. At least on occasion.
&nbs
p; The letter was left with the house manager, Sam Capper, before Jillian headed to her station in the dining room. By now she knew most everyone and greeted them cheerily. Louisa smiled and called out from behind a stack of freshly ironed linens.
“Good morning, Judith!”
Louisa Upton proved to be an amiable young woman, albeit a rather quiet one. With her mousy brown hair tucked into a tight little bun, Louisa wiped away any potential for actually capturing attention for her looks. Her manners were rather appalling at times; Jillian would catch her scratching her head in public or even raising her skirts to adjust her stockings without giving the slightest glance to see who else might be watching. Louisa came from a poor family in Chicago and had so many brothers and sisters that pushing her out the door at age eighteen seemed to be the family’s only hope for survival. She faithfully mailed all but a dollar of her monthly wages to her family. She had told Jillian in passing that she knew it would likely be the difference between them eating or going hungry.
Jillian couldn’t imagine. Knowing only wealth and plenty, there had never been any concern about what food would be available or how many it could serve. Jillian had never had to so much as make her own fire in the hearth. Yet in listening to Louisa and Kate, she knew they could both not only build a fire but also cut the wood or shovel the coal for fuel. It made her feel rather useless and sheltered.
So, too, did serving on the dining room floor. The work itself only seemed to prove to Jillian that she had been a spoiled and pampered child. How could it be that at age twenty-three she was only now experiencing what it was to work hard at something? Why, even dressing her own hair had become quite an ordeal. Once when Kate had helped her lace her corset, she had suggested Judith go back to wearing her hair like she had before she’d gone back to Kansas City for the funeral. Only Jillian wasn’t exactly sure how that might have been. Fortunately, Louisa chimed in that she thought the new style more becoming. They had contemplated Jillian’s hair for nearly fifteen minutes before Kate went back to tending her own raven locks. Jillian watched the young Irishwoman from the corner of the room. She tucked and twisted and pinned her hair in less than a minute. Not only that, but it looked quite appealing. Jillian had pleaded with her to teach her the trick, and while Kate had looked at her rather oddly, she did as Jillian asked. Now Jillian found her own blond hair easier to manage, and even Louisa declared it to be a triumph.
But given all of these things, Jillian began to contemplate her life. She had always listened to her parents, doing, for the most part, exactly as she was instructed. Judith was the one who would sneak out of the house in the middle of the night. Judith was the one who knew no fear. Jillian, on the other hand, had enough fears for both of them.
“I’m simply afraid of life,” she whispered, refocusing her attention on shining the silverware.
“Judith, would you leave off with polishing and help Kate set the tables? Irene is ill and won’t be down this morning,” Gwen called out as she moved through the room.
Jillian nodded and put the polishing cloth and spoon to one side. Grasping a tray of china cups and saucers, she headed out across the dining room floor. But just as she did, Louisa came running from the linen closet, shrieking something about lizards, causing Jillian to lose her balance.
Cups and saucers clattered noisily to the floor, and Jillian herself landed in a ballooning puff of skirt and apron not far from the mess.
“I’m so sorry, Judith,” Louisa said, her eyes brimming with tears.
The sound of the crash alerted Gwen, who frowned and shook her head in a most perplexed manner. “Are you all right?” she asked Jillian.
Jillian nodded. “I’m fine. I can’t say the same for Mr. Harvey’s china, however.” She looked at the sorry mess and picked up one single cup that had escaped breaking. “This one only has a tiny chip,” she commented, turning it to catch the light.
“You know Mr. Harvey’s rules. Throw it all away. If there’s so much as a chip, it must go. Louisa, you helped cause this mess; you help Judith clean it up.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll go for the broom and the dustpan right now.”
Louisa scurried off as Jillian attempted to get to her feet. Though she didn’t see the jagged piece of saucer that cut her little finger, she certainly felt it as it sliced down the side.
“Ow!” she cried out, clutching her wounded hand. Blood poured generously onto her white apron. Had her hand not throbbed painfully, Jillian would have laughed about the number of aprons she seemed to require. Certainly Judith had never needed so many.
“Oh, Judith, what have you done to yourself?” Gwen questioned as Jillian managed to get to her feet.
“I didn’t see the broken saucer. I thought all the pieces were in front of me, but this one managed to elude me.”
“Here,” Gwen said, reaching out, “let me see how bad it is.” Jillian complied, biting her lip to keep from crying out. “Well, you’re going to have to see Dr. Mac on this one. I think you’re going to need a few stitches.”
“What!”
“Kate, walk with Judith over to the doctor’s and then hurry back here.”
“But wait,” Jillian muttered. “I don’t think it’s all that bad.”
“Now, Judith, do as you’re told. You don’t want to bleed to death, do you?”
Jillian was beginning to feel a little light-headed with all this talk of blood and stitches. She let Gwen bind her hand in the lower part of her apron, then stared dumbly as Kate took hold of her arm.
“We’ll be havin’ ya fixed up before ya can say jack-a-dandy.” Kate took it all in stride, apparently unaware that her roommate was trembling from head to foot.
Jillian hated doctors. Well, she didn’t really hate them; she feared them. She had always felt a strange sense of morbidity when the doctor had come to the house to check on her grandmother. It was really her only encounter with doctors, and this, along with her father’s open disregard for their services, caused Jillian to adopt an uncertain attitude toward physicians. Doctors always seemed so stern faced and unfeeling, and they always knew things they didn’t let you in on until it was too late. At least that’s how it had been with Grandmother Danvers. The doctor had come faithfully day after day and finally after several months announced that the elder Mrs. Danvers had a terminal cancer. He assured them it was too late to do anything but make the old woman as comfortable as possible. Jillian shuddered simply thinking of the scene.
“Kate, I honestly don’t think this is necessary,” Jillian said, holding her wrapped hand tightly to her waist. “I mean, the bleeding will stop in a few minutes, and I hardly think I need to bother the doctor.”
“Dr. Mac will be gettin’ a real laugh out of seein’ ya again so soon,” Kate said.
Jillian knew nothing about what Kate was talking about and had no chance to question her on it as they stepped out the back door of the Harvey House and crossed the sandy dirt road to where the doctor’s small wood and stone house stood.
Kate knocked loudly on the door, then grinned at Jillian. “I almost wish it were me to be seein’ the doc. He’s surely the handsomest man I’ve ever laid me eyes to. But no doubt he’d not be wantin’ a poor Mick for a wife.”
“Coming!” came the muffled call from within the house.
Kate turned on her heel and headed back to the Harvey House. “He’ll be havin’ ya fixed up in no time at all.”
Jillian thought to call after her, not exactly sure what she wanted to say but desperate to have Kate’s bolstering support. She eyed the placard at the side of the door. Dr. Terrance MacCallister.
She glanced back over her shoulder to Kate’s departing figure. “Aren’t you going to wait until he opens the door?” she finally managed.
“He’s already opened the door,” a deep masculine voice stated from behind her.
Jillian turned to look up into the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. They were bright with amusement and well matched to the grin on the man’s face. He loo
ked nothing like any doctor she’d ever encountered.
“Miss Danvers. Can’t get enough of my company, eh? Well, come inside. I see you’re back from your trip back East. How did it go?”
Jillian wanted to call out again for Kate as the man took hold of her arm. Her quaking only increased as he led her into the house and closed the door.
“Why, you’re shaking like a leaf. If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you were scared to death. But that can’t be the case. After all, this is the same woman who watched me pick out pieces of lint from her burn,” he stated with a look of approval. “By the way, how’s the arm doing? I hope those two weeks in Kansas City didn’t ruin all my good work.”
Jillian felt her mouth go dry. Oh, Judith. What have you gotten me into?
“My arm is perfectly fine,” she told him. At least it was the truth. “It’s my hand. Well, actually my finger. I cut it.” She held up her hand as if to prove the fact. “I don’t think I need to be here bothering you with it, however.” She forced herself to remain calm.
“Well, now, I guess you must have received your license to practice medicine while you were back in Kansas City,” Dr. MacCallister said with a laugh. He stopped in midstep, turned to her, and let his gaze linger on her face for just a moment. “I don’t come to the Harvey House and tell you how to do your job.”
“I might have been better off if you had,” Jillian muttered.
The doctor laughed. “Why don’t you let me be the judge of whether you bothered me for nothing.”
Jillian nodded. “I’m sorry, Dr. MacCallister.”
The man frowned. “What happened to just calling me Mac? You go back East and get all civilized? I thought we had an agreement.”
Jillian wanted to protest that she’d never agreed to anything except her sister’s ridiculous scheme. But instead she whispered his name. “Mac.”
A Veiled Reflection Page 3