Noah chirruped to the horse, who had nearly stopped in the road. “Do you really think I thought that invitation to dinner was all about some paper I delivered at a conference last year?” He shook his head. “It was a good bit of work, but it hardly merits a middle-of-the-night invitation to dine.” Taking a deep breath, he continued. “I probably sound like the most arrogant man alive right now, but the truth is, mothers seeking eligible marriage material isn’t new to me.”
Emilie braved a glance his way. “If you suspected the real reason behind the invitation, why’d you say yes?”
“You.” He paused. “And I rarely turn down an invitation to get a home-cooked meal. And for another…” He lowered his voice. “You.” He continued. “And I meant what I said about meeting your cousins and Bert Hartwell. I like them. So please, may I still come to supper, even though it might also be a mother’s ploy to get me to fall in love with you?”
She looked over at him. He was looking straight at her with those dark eyes of his, and there wasn’t one hint of embarrassment in his expression. Until he frowned. “Unless—?”
“Unless what?”
“Unless your Father is going to bounce me out on my ear for encouraging you to write that article.”
“I doubt Father will even mention Ten for Ten. As far as he’s concerned, the matter is settled.”
“And what do you think? Is it settled?”
Emilie sighed. “I don’t know. What do you think I should do?”
He pulled the buggy over to the side of the road and held out his hand. “I think you should get a second opinion. May I?”
She handed the article to him.
He handed her the reins and began to read.
“I said it was good, but I’m not exactly objective.”
“Unh-hunh.” He kept reading.
“I wasn’t sure about that one question.” She pointed at a question midway down the second page.
“Hmmm.” He kept reading.
“It’s very difficult to be truly objective about one’s own work. I know that. Maybe I was overly confident when I said it was good and that Father—”
“Stop interrupting.”
Emilie held the reins for what felt like half an hour.
Finally, Noah finished and looked over at her. “I think Daily Dispatch readers would enjoy this—and look forward to more from this E. J. Starr person.”
“Thank you.” She was surprised at just how much his praise meant. “And so I ask again, what do you think I should do?”
He shrugged. “What I think is irrelevant. They aren’t my parents, and I don’t have to live with the consequences of the decision.”
“You’re no help at all.”
“No help?” He leaned back, pretending to be shocked. “How can you say that? For you, mademoiselle, I bring Miss Jones to rehearsal. For you, I pitch tent. For you, I read article and say it is very good. For you, I come to dine with notorious matchmaking mother. For you,” he said with a wicked grin, “I face giant snake.”
He’d taken on some kind of weird accent and syntax, but it worked. Emilie laughed. “All right, all right. Thank you for all you’ve done and for all you are about to do.” She handed the reins back and took the article. “But I still don’t know what to do with this.”
“Maybe Ten for Ten is only a symptom of a bigger issue.” He guided the rented horse into a turn that sent them back in the direction of town.
They were approaching the turn that would take them to her house before Emilie spoke again. “You’re right. There’s more to what just happened than just one series of articles.” She swallowed. “Lecturers like Miss Jones inspire people to think. She has things to say about the cause that people need to hear. Because the world needs to change the way they treat women. I told Father I wanted to interview Colonel Barton, too. He has things to say about the way we’ve treated our Indians. People need to hear that, too, because policies should change.” She shook her head. “But I’m one girl from Nebraska who can’t even get her own father to let her write for his newspaper. Who am I to think that what I report would matter to anyone?”
Noah was quiet for so long that she thought maybe he agreed with her and just didn’t know how to say it. Finally, he mentioned a name. “Susette LaFlesche Tibbles. Have you heard of her? A girl from Nebraska, if I’m not mistaken”
“Of course.”
He nodded. “And Clara Colby?”
Emilie looked over at him. “What do you know about Mrs. Colby?’
“Enough to know that ladies from Nebraska shouldn’t be underestimated.”
“I’m not that gifted.”
“How do you know? You’re as bright as anyone I’ve ever met.”
“But…my parents.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “Your parents. Exceptional parents. Very good people.”
Listening to Noah agree with everything she said tempted Emilie to go back to “you’re no help at all.” Except that, in an odd way, he was helping. He was listening as she shared her heart. He wasn’t laughing at her for thinking she could “make a difference” in the world. And he believed she was smart enough to decide what to do—for herself.
They were back at the turn to home. Emilie shook her head. “Not yet. Head back into town.”
In the short time they’d been driving, things had changed back in Beatrice. Now, both sides of Sixth Street were lined with carriages and buggies, mounted riders and farm wagons. Two omnibuses were pulled up at the Paddock Hotel, both dropping passengers off. The effects of Chautauqua were beginning to show on the streets of Beatrice. Over the next ten days, excursion trains would disgorge hundreds at the three railroad stations on the west side of town. Farmers would drive in from miles around. Eventually, thousands of people would descend on Beatrice and the Chautauqua grounds just across the Blue River. Thousands of readers.
Emilie sighed. Once again, she looked down at the article she’d written. The idea that had flickered to life when she stormed out of Father’s office an hour ago took hold. She’d been angry when it first surfaced. This time, the thought was borne of her talk with Noah and her subsequent thinking through what he’d called the “bigger issue” behind hers and Father’s disagreement over Ten for Ten.
The buggy passed by Klein’s Market. She looked through the windows. The interior was teeming with shoppers. Could it really have only been this morning that she’d offered to fetch mint jelly for Dinah? She felt so much older.
As Noah drove the buggy past the Paddock Hotel, Emilie gazed up Court Street toward the Daily Dispatch office. At the next corner, she asked Noah to turn right. “One stop and then you can take me home.”
CHAPTER 12
Emilie stood beneath the porte cochere, looking after the surrey bearing all their dinner guests save one back to town. Aunt Cornelia had seen to it that Bert sat beside June at the rear of the three-bench surrey that was Aunt Cornelia’s pride and joy. It was a fine vehicle, with padded seats upholstered in deep green and gold fringe along the edge of the canopy. The last thing Emilie saw before the surrey disappeared into the night was Bert reaching over to tug on June’s blond braid and her slapping him away. She sighed and shook her head. Someone needed to open that man’s eyes to the love that was sitting right next to him.
Laughter dragged her attention away from the departing guests and back up to the top of the stairs where Noah stood talking to Mother and Father. He shook hands with Father and bent to kiss the back of Mother’s proffered hand as Father opened the screen door, clearly intending for them both to go back inside and leave Emilie alone with Noah, who was headed toward her now. As Father held the door open, Mother flashed a smile in Emilie’s direction and flexed her wrist, ending in the flick of a forefinger indicating Noah. She nodded. Pointedly. Father pretended not to notice as he put his arm around her and pulled her inside.
Noah grinned. “And so the dastardly matchmaker departs, her evil web growing ever more inescapable.”
“You’re i
ncorrigible.” Emilie laughed in spite of herself. “It was a nice evening.”
“It was.” He hesitated. “Are you certain you don’t want me to wait while you speak to your Father about that extra stop we made this evening?”
Emilie shook her head. “Don’t worry. I’ll make it clear that you didn’t put me up to it.”
“That’s not why I’m offering to linger. I was offering moral support. As a friend.” He paused. “You still have time to change your mind, you know. There’s an amazing new invention called a telephone. It’s not too late to stop the presses.”
“I don’t want to do that.” It was true, even though the prospect of talking to Father about what she’d done made her stomach hurt.
“You barely ate. And that was a delicious meal. I’ve never heard of sauce instead of jelly with lamb, but it was wonderful.”
Emilie chuckled. “You should have heard the panic in the kitchen this morning when Dinah realized she was out of mint jelly. I’m glad you didn’t realize it was a substitute. I’ll be sure and tell her.”
Noah checked the rented buggy horse’s feet for stones. He went over the harness carefully. Finally, he walked around and prepared to climb aboard, but then he hesitated. “Emilie.”
“Yes?”
“Do you think it would cause too much of a stir if I were to reserve a seat for you at the opening ceremonies tomorrow evening?”
“Do you think I’d care if it did?”
He glanced toward the house, then back at her. “And if I were to kiss you on the cheek right now?”
She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “Now you don’t have to worry about it.” And she hurried inside.
The house was dark. Expecting to see light spilling into the hall from Father’s office, Emilie was surprised to hear laughter floating down the back stairs from the upstairs hall. Ah. She wasn’t going to have a chance to talk to Father, after all.
She moved quietly, padding across the carpet to a window that looked out on the drive, being careful not to disturb the drape as she watched Noah climb up into the buggy. Once seated, he paused and looked toward the house before flicking the reins and heading up the drive toward the road. Emilie hurried to the front of the house, turning down the gas lights in the entry hall and perching on the window seat to catch a last glimpse of him.
She started and got to her feet when she heard the click of a door sounding from the upstairs hall.
Mother appeared at the top of the stairs. When she saw Emilie, she descended. “He is a lovely, lovely man,” she said. “I just wanted to caution you about moving too quickly, dear. You don’t want to be too forward.”
“What are you talking about?”
“A kiss is hardly appropriate. You’ve known Mr. Shaw for one day. You don’t want him to think you’re anything but a lady.”
Had it really been only one day? In some ways, it felt like she’d known Noah Shaw for years. What did that mean? “It was only a kiss on the cheek, Mother. And it was his idea.”
She was silent for a moment. “I see.”
No. You don’t. How could she. Emilie herself didn’t really “see.” All she knew was that tomorrow evening seemed far too long to wait to see him again.
Father’s voice sounded from the dark at the top of the stairs. “Etta. Come to bed.”
Mother looked over her shoulder, then back at Emilie. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.” She called up to Father, “Coming, Will.”
Noah turned the rig in at the livery and headed back toward the hotel, but instead of going in and up to his room, he kept walking, thinking about Emilie Rhodes. How was it possible to feel so comfortable with someone you’d just met? How was it possible for a woman wearing faded calico and a ragged apron to look adorable? He’d teased her about those apron strings, but what he’d said wasn’t far from the truth. He could no more have walked away from Emilie last night than he could have flown back to town. It was as if a magnet drew him to follow her up the drive to her house.
As for today, he was tempted to think that God was arranging things so that he and Emilie would spend more time together. Miss Jones had immediately agreed to let Emilie interview her. Then, there was the coincidence that he and Miss Jones had arrived out at the grounds just as the Spring Sisters were beginning to rehearse. As for Miss Jones, she’d liked Emilie at once. Emilie’s cousins and Bert Hartwell included him in their activities without hesitation. And then she’d trusted him after her father rejected the article. It all made him feel like he’d been given a precious gift.
He looked up at the night sky and, once again, located the Bear. Do you see me, Pa? Do you see me, Ma? These people…they’re so welcoming. Do you see her? What do you think? He liked to think that God sometimes peeled back the sky and let his mother and father see their son. It made him feel less alone. He thought about Colonel Barton, and reminded himself that the likelihood of learning anything more about his parents was slim.
As he shoved his hands in his pockets and headed back toward the hotel, he thought about the changes in this part of the country since Ma and Pa and thousands of people just like them had crossed rivers and creeks and thousands of miles on their way to a better life. Thousands had made it…and thousands hadn’t. Walking by Colonel Barton’s place made him think of poor Grace Jumeaux. What was really behind her desire to meet with Colonel Barton? She was an odd woman. Probably accustomed to lying, although it made Noah feel guilty just to think the words. He hoped Ladora Riley’s years of experience as the colonel’s housekeeper had made her wise to the ways of “wayfaring strangers.”
You’re a wayfaring stranger. Be careful about looking down your nose at others. It was a good reminder. A man shouldn’t think too highly of himself. That was in the Bible. He smiled, thinking of Ma’s gift for quoting chapter and verse of the Good Book. Somehow, she’d always known exactly which ones he needed to hear. If she were with him right now, she’d smile up at him as sweetly as could be as she said, “‘Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall.’”
He wished Ma was here with him. He’d take her to the opening exercises tomorrow evening, and she’d meet Emilie Rhodes. Maybe she’d help him figure out what was going on in his heart and soul over the girl he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about. He’d been arguing with himself about it since standing at the back of that Tabernacle, watching her play the piano today. She was just a girl he’d met because of a bull snake. Then again, Ma had always said that sometimes God was doing His best work when it seemed that He wasn’t paying any attention at all.
Emilie wasn’t “just a girl.” He didn’t really need Ma to tell him that. He knew it because it had taken everything in him to keep from pulling her into his arms when she stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek a little while ago. He knew it because even now, as he walked toward the Paddock Hotel, he could remember the faint scent of the roses pinned in her hair and the sensation of her lips against his cheek. He knew it because he was worried about what would happen when her father found out what she’d decided to do with that article she’d written. He knew it because…because he knew.
Emilie started awake. She felt a moment of panic, thinking that she’d overslept, but then she realized that what had awakened her was the sound of wagon wheels crunching on the drive. Apparently Dinah had ignored Mother’s directive to sleep a little later after the previous night’s entertainment.
Slipping out of bed, Emilie padded to the window. The indigo sky had barely begun to lighten just above the eastern horizon. It couldn’t even be five o’clock yet. How did Dinah do it? She and Aunt Cornelia’s Ida had worked until nearly midnight, with Dinah insisting that every dish be washed and returned to its proper place in the pantry, every kitchen counter scrubbed, every damask napkin treated for stains and ready to be washed in the morning.
Emilie knew this because she and the cousins had helped clear the table after dessert. They’d seen the mounds of dishes on the counters, carried the coffee and tea tray in
to the formal parlor, and witnessed Mother’s insistence that she would deal with the coffee cups herself and that Dinah and Ida were to go home now.
Now that Emilie thought about it, Dinah and Ida were probably looking forward to Chautauqua for very different reasons than the family. Gathering eggs, milking the cow, and preparing and delivering a picnic supper to the cottage once a day amounted to a holiday compared to what those two women managed most of the time. Maybe she should interview a housekeeper for Ten for Ten.
She chuckled when the idea first arrived, but the more she thought about it, the more she wondered if maybe it was one of her more original ideas. Mother had often said that she’d be lost without Dinah. Now that Emilie thought about it, Dinah and Ida were the reason that Mother and Aunt Cornelia had time to champion their causes. What would happen to those causes if the women who supported them had to do without their housekeepers and maids and gardeners? Emilie had never stopped to think about the layers of society and what would happen if they stopped cooperating. Maybe the concerns of the labor unions were more important than temperance. Maybe she should think less and get dressed for the day.
She dressed in the dark, donning a simple green gored skirt and a white blouse. She brushed her hair and tied it back with a ribbon, then waited until she heard Dinah leave to gather eggs before descending to the kitchen to make coffee and set up the silver serving tray in the nook in preparation for Father’s appearance.
She was seated in the breakfast nook waiting when she heard him head down the front stairs. She stirred sugar into her own coffee to try to give her trembling hands something to do.
She spoke before he had a chance. “There’s something you need to know.”
Father sighed as he settled opposite her. He lifted the silver coffeepot and filled the shaving mug he drank coffee out of every morning. It was his silent protest against the minuscule cups that were part of the delicate porcelain breakfast set Mother loved and he despised. “I don’t want to get between you and your mother on this, Emilie. Discussions about such things are for daughters and their mothers.”
Stephanie Grace Whitson - [Quilt Chronicles 03] Page 12