A Veiled Reflection

by Tracie Peterson

  “I know I’ve been a ninny, and if I hadn’t, then maybe Little Sister could have had her brother’s comfort in her final hours,” Jillian said, looking up mournfully at Mac.

  He shook his head. “Bear would never have come. He’d rather die than step foot in a white man’s house. He’ll come now to take her home and give her a proper funeral, but he wouldn’t have come before then. Mary knew it, same as I did.”

  “Oh, Mary must hate me,” Jillian said, burying her face in her 125 hands.

  “Mary doesn’t know about your refusal,” Mac said softly. “I just told her you were busy. It wasn’t exactly a lie.”

  “If I’d been there . . .”

  “Little Sister would still be dead and you would be hysterical.” Mac tried to keep his tone from sounding too condemning. “Jillian, I understand, and I’m not mad anymore. In fact, I’m pretty embarrassed about the way I acted. I didn’t give you a chance to explain, and I’m sorry. I’m just so used to people being unwilling to help when it comes to the Indians, I jumped to the wrong conclusion. There are so many different tribes in the area, and even so, most folks—most of our people—won’t lift a hand to befriend them or treat them decently. Instead, they just demand that the Indians be contained on reservations. It’s easier to pretend they don’t exist if you can keep them out of sight.” He paused, realizing he was rambling.

  Jillian watched him with wide blue eyes and an expression that melted his heart. “Forgive me?” he questioned with great hope.

  “There’s nothing to forgive you for,” Jillian replied. “I’m the one who was in error. Do you forgive me?”

  He reached out to help her to her feet. “You acted on what you knew. I’m sorry you were so afraid. I’m sorry that you’ve suffered because of one old woman’s superstitious notions. As a doctor, I can tell you that none of that stuff has any bearing on real life. Birds can fly all over the house, stars can fall from the sky, but it doesn’t cause death. You know, if Mary were here, she’d tell us about eternal life in Jesus and how we don’t need to fear death because He’s already overcome it.”

  “Do you believe that, Mac?” Jillian asked.

  Mac thought about it for a moment. “I was raised to go to church every Sunday, mainly because my father was the one doing the preaching. I used to think I understood this religion thing pretty well. You did as you pleased through the week, and on Sunday you came to church all bathed and gussied up and you told God how sorry you were for all the bad things you’d done. You talked to folks about heavenly matters, leaving each other with a hearty ‘God bless you’ and ‘See you on Sunday.’ Then you left just in time to go socialize and get an early start on the sins for next Sunday.”

  Jillian grinned, and Mac was relieved to see the color returning to her cheeks.

  “But I now know there’s a whole lot more to being a Christian than going to church on Sunday.”

  “What changed?”

  “My parents, for one. They began to see that God has something more in mind for them. They decided they were called to the mission field, and before I knew it I was staying with my grandparents and my folks were thousands of miles away.” He remembered that separation as being one of the most painful in his life, and he knew the tone he took betrayed it. “It was hard to lose them.”

  “I’m sorry, Mac. I didn’t have any idea.”

  “Of course not,” he said, smiling. “I can’t say that their change of heart changed me. I’m still not sure where I stand or how I look at spiritual things. Mary’s helped me to see that it’s all a very personal matter.”

  “How?” Jillian questioned.

  Mac laughed. “She once asked me outright if I was a Christian. I told her, of course I was. She asked me how I knew it, and I told her my folks were Christians and I’d been going to church all my life.” Mac could remember the older woman’s reaction like it was yesterday. “She laughed at me and asked me again how I knew I was a Christian. I told her I sat in church every Sunday and that folks who weren’t Christians wouldn’t do such a thing.”

  Jillian smiled. “What did she say?”

  “She told me she could drag Dobbin into church every Sunday but it still wouldn’t make that mule a Christian—or human, for that matter.”

  Jillian giggled. “She does have a way with words.”

  Mac nodded. “I finally understood, nevertheless. She asked me if I knew where I was going when I died. I hadn’t really given it much thought. I’d always presumed it would be heaven, so I never worried much about it.” He shrugged. “I suppose it sounds a bit foolish.”

  “Not at all,” Jillian said, suddenly sobering. “It sounds all too familiar.”

  “Well, maybe that’s something you should discuss with Mary. She says it’s all about a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. She says we can sit in a pew until our backsides are grafted to it and it still won’t change our hearts. I wasn’t always sure I understood, but tonight I think she finally got through to me.”

  “How?” Jillian questioned, watching him carefully, as if he were about to impart some great universal mystery to her for safekeeping.

  Mac pushed back the hair that had fallen across his forehead and said, “She told Little Sister she’d see her soon. I came to realize that I didn’t have the same confidence in my eternal destination as Mary did for herself. I intend to spend a little time praying on the matter, and tomorrow I’m going to go talk with Reverend Lister.”

  Jillian stood completely still for what seemed an eternity. Finally she nodded. “It gives me much to think about. I’ll be interested to know what he tells you.”

  Mac reached out and took hold of her shoulders. “I’m truly sorry for the way I acted. You’ve been a good friend, and I wouldn’t want to do anything to cause that to end.”

  Jillian nodded. “You’ve been a good friend too. I could hardly bear the idea of spending three months in a place like this, but you’ve made the time go fast.”

  Mac felt a pang of regret stab at his heart. In a very short time, Jillian would return to Kansas City and he’d never see her again. Of course, he could give up his life in the desert and follow her back East. He had lived in cities before; surely he could do it again.

  She suddenly appeared to grow uncomfortable. Maybe she could read his mind.

  “I need to get back. They’ll lock me out otherwise, and I’m not sure I’m up to climbing that trellis, even if Judith could.”

  Mac smiled. “Let me walk you back.”

  “No, that’s not necessary,” Jillian said, pulling away rather quickly. “I wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong impression. All it would take is one of those nosy women from town seeing us together. Tongues would no doubt wag unmercifully.”

  “You think they don’t already wag?” Mac questioned.

  Jillian paled. “What do you mean?”

  He felt sorry for her and decided not to press the issue. “I’m just suggesting that the women who gossip will do so with or without anything concrete on which to base their conversations. It wouldn’t really matter if I walked you back or not. If they decide there is something to this, they will merely fill in the details from their imagination.” Jillian moved toward the door. “That’s why we’d be wise not to give them any fuel for the fire.” She turned the handle and glanced back over her shoulder. “Thanks, Mac. Thanks for understanding and for caring about my feelings.”

  He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He cared about her feelings, all right. And if Jillian Danvers cared about him the way he cared about her, the town would have more than a little bit to preoccupy itself with.

  He watched her walk back to the Harvey House and test the back door. It opened and she slipped inside without anyone seeming the wiser. Mac felt an emptiness invade the house. She was gone.

  “You’re being foolish, Mac old boy,” he said aloud, closing the door. “She couldn’t be happy living on here as a doctor’s wife. The desert would eat her alive.” Mac slowly shook his head. “No
, it’s better you let it go. Let her go. Don’t even try to love her.”

  But in his heart he knew it was too late. He did love her. And just as he had loved once before, only to be on the losing side of romance, Mac was certain that this time would be no different. It wasn’t just that Jillian reminded him of her. It was that history seemed to be repeating itself, and Mac knew he wasn’t strong enough to endure that kind of heartache again.

  TWELVE

  JILLIAN LOST HERSELF IN HER WORK at the Harvey House in an attempt to push aside thoughts of Mac and the gentle way he’d held her. But she found it was almost impossible to forget. So instead, she listened to the customers speak of their travels and woes. She focused on Fred Harvey’s routine, setting the tables with meticulous care. Only the finest china and crystal, each piece closely inspected for flaw or chip. Only the whitest linens, pressed and arranged to perfection.

  From the moment the gong announced the passengers’ arrival until it sounded again to warn them that they were soon to board, Jillian gave her entire heart and soul to the job at hand. She hadn’t broken a single dish in the last four days, and her tips had improved dramatically. Men flirted with her as they did with the others, two had proposed, and one had firmly announced that she was destined to be his wife. She’d had to laugh when she came back to the table to find that he hadn’t tipped her so much as a penny.

  But when the passengers had gone and the tables had been cleared and reset, Jillian found herself with way too much time to think. Nighttime was the worst yet. She lay in her bed for long hours before sleep would finally give her any peace, and all she could think about during those hours were Mac and Mary and Little Sister. Sometimes she would think of her family as well, remembering, sadly enough, that it wasn’t much longer before her contract was up and she’d be expected to return home. But could she go back to what she’d known before, knowing what she did now?

  Could she live among her mother’s camelback sofas and Persian rugs, listen to her father compete for men’s properties and goods as if the world depended on his skill? Could she dine every evening at exactly seven-thirty, wearing Worth gowns and boasting the latest in hairstyles, all while knowing that in Arizona children went to bed on mats, often hungry because of a lack of food? Could she sit in her pious cathedral, listening to the unmoving sermons and droning voices and not remember the way Reverend Lister’s simple words had stirred her heart?

  Jillian never found any answers for her questions—perhaps because she pushed the thoughts away as quickly as they came. She simply didn’t want to deal with them. They were painful reminders that she would soon part company and leave Mac and Mary and all the others who had been so kind. And for what? Obedience to her demanding father? Lack of courage to do anything else?

  Finally her mind came to rest on the lies she’d created. Few people knew who she really was, and while it didn’t really hurt anyone that she was posing as Judith, Jillian was growing increasingly uncomfortable with hiding the truth. She knew Mary, although forgiving and understanding, had been surprised by her declaration. For a moment, Jillian had felt as though Mary had been hurt by her deception. This in turn grieved Jillian. She hadn’t thought it would matter to anyone. She hadn’t figured her identity to be of any importance.

  What would the others say when she let the truth be known? Would they be angered she had led them on falsely? Tossing and turning in her bed, Jillian realized that she had come to detest her actions. What could she possibly do to right her wrongs, short of revealing herself and getting Judith into trouble?

  * * *

  Thursday dawned bright and warm, and before Jillian was even fully awake, she remembered it was her day off. In all the time since she’d come to Pintan, her days off had varied. Kate said that Judith had allowed Gwen to alternate her schedule rather than giving her a fixed day, so that if one of the other girls needed to be away, she could simply change times with Judith. It seemed like the kind of thing Judith would enjoy, but Jillian longed for a bit more order in her life.

  Getting up, Jillian went quickly to her morning chores, dressing carefully in a lightweight muslin blouse and a dove gray skirt. The temperatures in Pintan were gradually climbing, and by listening to those around her, Jillian knew the heat would only continue to rise. She didn’t really mind the added warmth—at least it was dry. Back in Kansas City, summer days often felt sticky and uncomfortable when the air became humid. That wouldn’t be a problem here in the Arizona Territory.

  She decided early on to seek out Mac and see if he might escort her out to Mary’s place. She’d already spoken to her house manager, receiving permission to be in Mac’s company for the day. Sam had smiled knowingly and said it was perfectly acceptable for her to court the good doctor. Jillian hadn’t any chance to set him straight on his thinking because at that moment, Louisa burst into the office and declared that the kitchen was on fire.

  Jillian and Sam both ran to see about the situation, finding that the cooks had easily controlled the flames.

  “Sorry to give you a fright,” the head chef told Sam. “Some rags were left too close to the stove. They’ve been moved away and shouldn’t cause any more concern.”

  “See that they don’t,” Sam said. “A fire out here would spell disaster for sure.”

  Jillian decided this was the best moment for slipping away and quickly exited out the back door before anyone could question her further.

  Mac’s door was wide open, as was nearly every window in the tiny house. Jillian couldn’t blame him for allowing the breeze inside. The air smelled sweet, scented with the blooming vegetation from the surrounding desert landscape. Though unlike anything she had ever known in Kansas City, she loved it nevertheless.

  “Mac?” she called at the door. “Are you in there?”

  “I’m here,” he replied, wiping his hands on a towel as he approached the door. “Is there a problem?”

  “No.” Jillian shook her head, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious. “I was just hoping to ask you a favor.”

  He smiled. “When Judith came to me asking for favors they usually involved a great deal of energy and time.”

  Jillian couldn’t help but smile. “Well, then, I’m more like my sister than I imagined. I was hoping you could take me out to Mary’s place.”

  Mac seemed to consider it for a moment before nodding. “I think that can be arranged. I’ll see about borrowing the buckboard from Reverend Lister. It’s certainly sturdy enough to endure the drive.”

  “Thank you, Mac. It means a lot. I’ve been meaning to talk to Mary about a great many things, and since I have the whole day off, I was hoping you could help me out.”

  Half an hour later they sat side by side on the wagon seat, Jillian very aware of Mac’s nearness. He smelled of freshly washed clothes and cologne. The cologne was a spicy scent, and Jillian wondered if Mac had put it on just for her. He hadn’t been wearing it when she’d arrived at his door, neither had he worn it before.

  “So did you have your talk with Reverend Lister?” she asked, trying to think of something to say.

  “We met this morning and talked some,” Mac admitted. “I still have a lot of questions, but he’s a good one for supplying answers.”

  “Mary’s good for that too. I don’t suppose she’ll be too happy with me for not telling everybody about who I really am, but I just don’t want to mess things up for Judith. I don’t want her in trouble, even if she did break her word.”

  “Sometimes people need to face the consequences for their actions,” Mac answered.

  Jillian nodded. “I know that’s true, but she’s my sister and I love her very much. I know she’s happier now that she’s away from my father and mother and married to the man she loves.”

  Mac fastened his eyes on her. “Tell me about your homelife, Jillian.” The request didn’t seem all that unreasonable, but it made Jillian uncomfortable nevertheless. How could she possibly explain her family to Mac? They were such a strange lot.


  “Well, my mother descended from European royalty, as she proudly tells everyone and anyone who will listen. She met my father in New York City while on a holiday. They fell madly in love, and my father so impressed her father with his ability to make money that when my father pledged to finance a business adventure for my grandfather, he eagerly agreed to their whirlwind courtship and marriage.

  “My father’s background accounts for his business acumen. His father and his father’s father were both businessmen. They would participate in bits of this and that. Father calls it ‘diversifying one’s interests,’ but I think Father is a great deal like Judith. He becomes bored easily and has to have something new to focus on. He dabbles in banking and stocks and real estate, as well as a dozen or more businesses. He’s done quite well for himself, but he is very demanding and often hurts people to get what he wants.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Mac said, glancing at her with a smile.

  “Well, hopefully you’ll never have reason to do business with him,” Jillian replied. “He is ruthless and I wouldn’t wish him on my worst enemy.”

  Mac nodded. “So is it just you and Judith as far as children?”

  “There were two others, but they died very young. We are the youngest of the Danvers children, born and raised in Kansas City. Father moved his family first to Chicago, then St. Louis, and finally Kansas City. He picked up wealth as he went, much as a farmer might take up vegetables as he walks through his garden. Father just has a knack. Anyway, he settled in Kansas City and two years later Judith and I were born. Grandmother Danvers said twins were a bad omen and that nothing good could befall the family after that.”

  “I don’t think I would have liked your Grandmother Danvers,” Mac said matter-of-factly.