by Anita Mills
“As long as you never forget all I really need is you.” Leaning back in his arms, she wiped his wet face with her hand, “I think we’d better get him and go before we scandalize these folks so much they won’t let us have him. I mean, after all this, we don’t want to leave empty-handed now.” For a moment, her chin quivered again. “Spence, I’m about as happy as I’ve ever been,” she said, her voice dropping huskily. “I don’t ever want to forget how I feel right now.”
And neither did he. “Come on,” he said gently, “let’s go home. It’s time he met Jessie.”
San Francisco: November, 1871
“Ladies and gentlemen, it is with a great deal of pleasure that I give you a truly remarkable woman who must surely be an inspiration to all of us, the formidable-looking society matron announced. Holding up two leather-bound books, she added dramatically, “By sharing her mother’s gift to her, she has enriched the lives of thousands of other women, young and old.”
“Who’s that, Daddy?” Jessie whispered.
“Shhh—it’s Mama,” Josh answered for Spence.
Shaking her head, the little girl pointed. “No, it isn’t—Mama’s over there.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Mrs. Lane’s generous daughter!”
There was a soft rustle of petticoats beneath the skirt of her green silk dress as Laura stood up, smiling, and the polite clapping erupted into a thunderous burst of applause. In the front row, Spence rose to pay his own homage to her, and the chairs emptied behind him. As he watched her move gracefully to the podium, he was too proud of her for words.
“Thank you.” Discovering she’d only encouraged them, she smiled and waited a minute before she held out her hands to quiet all those people. “Thank you,” she said more loudly. “And now that I have everyone’s attention, I’d really appreciate your ears.” Pausing, she looked out over the cream of San Francisco society, then her gaze dropped to Spence, Josh, and Jessie, and she waved happily at them.
There was no trace of her earlier nervousness. In fact, she looked like a cat about to dive into the cream pot, Spence decided.
“That’s my mama,” Jessie told everyone around her.
As the applause tapered off, Laura acknowledged it again. “Thank you so much for your kind welcome. I find myself quite overwhelmed by such generosity of spirit.” Clearing her throat discreetly, she began her speech. “While some of you already know me through an acquaintance with my husband, Dr. Spencer Hardin, I suspect those of you who’ve read Practical Advice to a Young Woman or The Household Companion have come to meet my mother’s daughter, as Mrs. Kendall so aptly introduced me. Yes, I was and am the grateful recipient of all the wisdom in these two books.
“For those of you who’ve never met me before, my name is Laura Lane Taylor Hardin, and I was born twenty-nine years ago on a small farm near Salisbury, North Carolina. The publisher has kindly described my family as less than prosperous, but the truth is we were downright poor.” As a murmur of disbelief rippled through the audience, she nodded. “My daddy dreamed of preaching instead of farming, but he had a family to feed, so he kept plowing the poorest piece of land in Rowan County, hoping the crops would be better the next year.
“My mother was the truly extraordinary one. Born Nellie Mae Parrish nearly twenty years before me in that same little house, she was most certainly poor in material things, but she had her dreams, too—she’d grown up wanting to be a schoolteacher. Unfortunately, my grandfather saw little purpose in educating his sons, and absolutely none in teaching his daughters to do anything but cook, clean, sew, and raise babies. It made no difference to him that she’d taught herself to read, write, and work arithmetic—she still had to stay home to help her mother tend eight younger brothers and sisters.
“She was two months short of her sixteenth birthday when a virulent fever wiped out most of her family—both parents and five of the nine children. An uncle she’d never met came to bury the dead, then took the three younger children back to Tennessee with him. She felt that loss as long as she lived.
“When she married, she wanted a big family of her own, but it never happened. I was born when she was eighteen, then she lost several babies before my brother came along six years after me. When I was eleven, she died of consumption, and the next year, my father passed on also, leaving Danny and me alone.
“Because of what had happened to her own family, Mama made me promise I wouldn’t let anybody have Danny, and if you don’t think I was scared half to death, then you’re sadly mistaken. I was a skinny little girl trying to manage a wild little boy by myself, and I couldn’t ask anybody to help me with him. I was afraid if I did, there’d be somebody coming out to take him away from me.
“Now, I’m not going to tell you any hair-raising tales of what it was like for us back then, because unless you’re not nearly as smart as I think you are, you’ve got a pretty good notion. I worked hard, and we got by. Thanks to Mama and God, Danny turned out to be a fine young man, one any of you would have been proud to call yours. When my first husband enlisted in the Confederate Army, Danny joined up, too, and since he was too young to fight, he drove an ambulance until he died in a cholera epidemic.
“Today, whenever I hold my two daughters, Jessie and Nell, or my sons, Joshua and David, I think of Danny and Mama. When she knew she was going to die, my mother filled three journals with everything she wanted me to know. While she never got a chance to see me or Danny grow up, she was there for us in her words. Her wisdom and her foresight guided us through the terrible times, and they guide me still.”
Spence looked around him, noting she had her audience spellbound. Several women quietly dabbed at their eyes with handkerchiefs, while more than one man harrumphed to clear his throat. As many times as he’d heard her speech himself, it still had the ability to form that lump in his throat. As in just about everything else, she had a gift for this, too.
For more than five years now, she’d shared his bed and enriched his life immeasurably, and yet as well as he knew every inch of her body, she still fascinated him. All of the wealth he’d gained from his practice and she’d gotten from the books hadn’t really changed her. She had a grand house on the hill, expensive clothes, a fancy carriage, and social position now, but her anchor was still him and their children.
And while she’d let him hire a maid and a housekeeper, she’d refused to have a nursemaid for the children, insisting on taking care of them herself. Most days when he came home, she’d either be chasing six-year-old Jessie and four-and-a-half-year-old David barefoot across the lawn, or she’d be sitting in her old rocker, singing baby Nell to sleep. Whenever she had to travel to promote the books, she took her family with her, saying she didn’t mind letting the hotels provide someone to watch them for a few hours, but strangers weren’t going to raise her children.
His gaze strayed to Josh, and he couldn’t help thinking what he’d have missed if she hadn’t dragged him to the orphanage that day. Nearly ten now, the boy didn’t even remind him of Lydia anymore. Laura’s patience and love had made him her son.
It was funny how things had turned out. The once-boisterous Josh had developed a passion for books, while Jessie had become a real tomboy with David trotting into mischief right behind her. Elinor, whom he’d nicknamed Nell after Laura’s mother, wasn’t two yet, but if he had to guess, he’d say she was going to take after Jessie.
“Five years ago, I let my husband read Mama’s journals, and he thought it rather selfish of me to keep them to myself. He said her advice was as valuable now as it was when she wrote it, and he thought there’d be hundreds of young women who would find it useful. Well, he was right about everything but the numbers.”
“Daddy, she’s, tellin’ ‘em about you,” Jessie whispered.
He looked up as Laura paused to look out over her audience. “Mama’s first journal, published as Practical Advice to a Young Woman three years ago, has been read by thousands, not hundreds, and j
udging by the letters sent to the publisher, the words of an incredibly honest woman from backwoods North Carolina have reached out to touch girls and women of all stations. And it looks as though The Household Companion will be an equal success. I am so very, very proud of my mother, and so grateful for the love and wisdom she left me. Thank you so very much for appreciating her.”
As she turned away from the podium, Spence watched the crowd erupt in deafening applause. Standing, he clapped as hard as anyone, while Jessie tugged on his coat.
“Daddy, I can’t see anything!”
“Stand on the chair, Jess,” Josh advised her.
Instead, Spence lifted her, then reached for his son’s hand, holding it tightly.
“Ladies and gentlemen—please, may I have your attention?” Pounding the gavel, the woman who’d introduced Laura waited for the crowd to hush. “Please—I have an announcement to make!” she finally all but shouted. As the applause began to subside, she hammered the podium again. “For those of you who’d enjoyed hearing Mrs. Hardin—” Holding up the books, she noted loudly, “For those of you who have not yet had the privilege of reading these remarkable works, they are available for purchase in the lobby. And for those of you who aren’t aware of it, Mrs. Hardin donates half of the income from both books to a local orphanage.”
As the crowd filed out, Spence made his way to the stage. “That’s my mama,” Jessie told everyone they passed.
“Dr. Hardin!”
“Huh?” Spence swung around impatiently to face a stranger.
“I just wanted to say your wife’s quite a woman to have overcome such a dreadful beginning,” the man told him. “I admire her very much.”
“So do I.”
“She’s my mama,” Jessie said again.
“And who’s this fine young man?” the fellow asked, noticing Josh.
“I’m her oldest son.”
When they finally got to the stage, Laura was waiting. “You were magnificent,” Spence declared before she could ask.
“You don’t have to tell me that.”
“I meant it. Judging by the way everybody was stampeding for the lobby, I’d say Sister Carlotta ought to be very happy.”
“She prays for me, you know.” Turning to Josh, she asked, “Would you like to go with me to visit her tomorrow? She always asks about you.”
“She probably wants to know if I’m still cussing,” he muttered.
“Well, you aren’t, are you?”
“No.”
“He still says hell sometimes,” Jessie spoke up.
“Jess—”
“But not very often,” the little girl added quickly.
“Come on—it’s getting pretty late,” Spence murmured. “I know two kids who belong in bed right now.”
“If you want to avoid the crowd, there’s a door behind the stage that goes outside,” Laura said. Looking up at him, she added huskily, “I wouldn’t mind retiring early myself, Spence.”
And as he looked into those gold-flecked eyes, he felt his pulse race, his mouth go dry. “Neither would I.”
In the carriage on the way home, she rested her head on his shoulder while she listened to Josh tell her about a woman in a big hat. Spence closed his eyes, thinking what a lucky man he was. His arm tightened around her, pulling her closer. Turning his face into her fragrant hair, he whispered for her ears alone, “I love you heart, soul, and body, Laura Hardin.”
Snuggled against him, she felt no need for words. He knew what he meant to her, and when they got home, she was going to show him. Again.
The Fire Series
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