by Renee Yancy
Lindy sat at her desk that evening to compose a letter to Kasia’s mother in Poland. She tucked one golden ringlet in the envelope. When the grieving mother opened it, that lock of hair would be all she had left of her precious child. The other ringlet Lindy intended to have placed into a gold locket for Minna, as a memorial of her friend.
Lindy thought of her expensive wedding dress, thrown out of the train into the snow. The cost of that dress alone could have fed the children at the Union and their families for a year, at least.
Perhaps more.
Chapter 47
July 1898, Chautauqua, New York
Jack threw the letter in the trash, shaking. He’d written his uncle and Otto Lindenmayer, enquiring about Lindy’s whereabouts and telling them he had discovered Lindy hadn’t married the duke. His uncle wrote to say he knew nothing and wouldn’t dare interfere by asking the Lindenmayers where she was. Even his letter to Otto Lindenmayer returned to Jack unopened. Who else could he ask?
He paced the confines of his small bedroom and then whirled and smashed his fist on the desk, sending papers flying.
A knock sounded at his door.
“Come,” he said.
Gillian Vincent drifted in, a cloud of white batiste, a lace parasol over her arm, and an enchanting smile on her face. “I’ve come to rescue you.”
Jack groaned inwardly. “Indeed.” What now? “And what makes you think I need rescuing?”
She glanced from the untidy desk to the papers on the floor and the stacks of books in every corner. “You’ve been immured here far too long. You missed the concert in the grove, the picnic at the beach, and I refuse to let you miss the fireworks.”
Jack sighed. He hadn’t left his room for the last few days except to use the necessary room and eat his meals. Preferably very early or late, avoiding company.
“Honestly, John, this room is a disgrace.” She dropped her parasol on his chair and bent over to retrieve the letters on the floor. “Oh.” She gazed at the letter from his uncle, who unfortunately had the large, sprawling handwriting of a child, easily readable. Her lips tightened, but she said nothing, only dropped the letters on his desk, sniffed, and brushed her fingers off as if wiping away dirt. “Come now. I’ll not take no for an answer.”
By sheer force of will, she got him downstairs, his cravat tied appropriately and his frock coat on. They walked through the hotel as people bowed and greeted Gillian, who was well-known throughout the camp.
It did feel good to be outside. He hadn’t realized how stuffy his room had become. The weather had warmed this week, at times, almost too humid for May. The grounds took on a golden glow as the sun went down, slanting through the pines. Families and visitors jammed the lakefront.
Wooden chairs had been set up on the beach, and the camp band played popular tunes. Gillian chose two chairs and sat down, stowing her parasol under her seat. “Now, isn’t this better than mooning about in your room?”
Jack squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and sighed. “I wasn’t mooning, Gillian, I was thinking.”
“You’ve got no right to think about her.”
Jack stiffened and turned to her. “Pardon me?”
“She doesn’t deserve you.” Gillian shook her finger in his face. “And that’s that. You’ll have to stop this nonsense if you’re going to remain at the camp.”
Was that a threat? “You’re the one who must stop, Gillian. You can’t pretend nothing’s happened.”
She didn’t reply, but lifted her chin and stared out over the lake, her lips tight and her profile cold as ice.
The sun hasn’t gone down yet, but the fireworks have already started.
***
Jack had finished his final lecture on the use of Sunday school materials, and the last student had left the lecture room when the white-bearded figure of John Heyl Vincent appeared at the door. “Just finishing up, Jack?”
“Yes sir.” What was he doing here? It could only have something to do with Gillian. After the initial round of introductions when he’d first arrived, he didn’t see Bishop Vincent for weeks and instead worked under the direction of another senior member of the staff.
“I’d like to speak with you.”
“Of course, sir.”
Jack gulped, gathered up his papers, and followed Bishop Vincent out of the Hall of Philosophy toward the brick quadrangle in front of the building, rimmed with wooden benches.
Bishop Vincent chose a bench away from the quadrangle, under a mass of purple morning glory. Jack took a seat a few feet away and waited.
Bishop Vincent stroked his long white beard. “Tell me, Jack, how are you faring here in Chautauqua?”
Jack cleared his throat. “I’m... enjoying it. It’s different from anything I’ve ever done.”
The bishop laughed. “To be sure. Nothing like Chautauqua has ever existed before. Many of the same teachers and students return year after year.”
“I can see why. It’s a lovely spot, and there are so many opportunities for learning.”
“Exactly. You’ve hit the nail on the head. Opportunities for learning. And perhaps, opportunities to learn from our mistakes, eh?”
Jack’s face grew warm. “I don’t know what you mean, sir.”
“Come now. Gillian has told me all about your situation.” He hooked his fingers in the pockets of his waistcoat and gave Jack a stern glance. “I don’t think you’re seeing clearly, my boy. The Lord has placed a virtuous woman in front of you, groomed for ministry from a young age, who would be an excellent wife and helpmate.”
Gillian? She doesn’t do anything about the camp except preen over her clothes and seek out my hiding places. “I’m not seeking a helpmate, sir.”
Bishop Vincent sat upright, and his lips thinned. “Surely, you have given up hope of finding her?”
“To whom do you refer, sir?” Did Gillian really run to her uncle about this?
“The girl who left her groom at the altar—the New York society girl. She wouldn’t be any good for you. Surely you must see that?”
Jack stood, his chest tight. “Perhaps I could be of some good to her.”
“I think you’re missing what God is doing here, Jack. I believe He has put you and Gillian together.”
“Then I’m sorry, sir. He hasn’t spoken that to me.” He relaxed his shoulders. “Please excuse me.”
He strode away, heedless of where he was going, and ended up at the beach. The breeze cooled his hot face but did nothing for his thumping heart. Lindy, where are you?
“John!”
He turned. Gillian hurried across the beach toward him. Without thinking, he ran into the water and swam away as fast as he could.
***
Two more of his letters came back. This time he had written directly to Otto Lindenmayer at his office. A week apart. And now both had been returned, unopened. Return to sender. Otto Lindenmayer obviously had no intention of revealing his daughter’s whereabouts.
He dropped to his knees against the bed and bowed his head. Dear Lord, is this then Your will for me? You’ve closed the door. There’s nothing left I can think to do. So, I turn it over to You. May Your will be done in my life. Amen.
In his desk drawer, he retrieved the other returned letters. Bit by bit, he tore them into tiny pieces and dropped them in the wastebasket.
Chapter 48
Buffalo, New York
The days following Kasia’s funeral left Lindy feeling at odds. Although one perfect summer day after another followed, she found it difficult to reconcile the flourishing life all around her with the knowledge that Kasia had departed it.
On one of these beautiful summer mornings, Lindy found her aunt studying a thick booklet at the breakfast table.
“You need a change of scenery, my dear.” Aunt Gertrude peered over her silver pince-nez at Lindy. “You’re too pale, and you’re not eating enough.” She glanced at the poached egg Lindy had chosen from the sideboard.
“What do you suggest?”
Lindy poured a cup of coffee from the silver carafe. “I know I’ve been melancholy.”
“Chautauqua.”
“Chautauqua? You mean the lake?”
“Well, yes, the lake is part of it. I meant the Chautauqua Institution. It started as a teaching camp years ago, for Sunday school teachers. Now it offers lectures on all kinds of subjects. There are classes, music, even drama. A few years ago, they did Ben Hur. It was marvelous.” Aunt Gertrude pushed the booklet across the table toward Lindy. “They have a lovely hotel, the Athenaeum. I think you’d enjoy it.”
“Very well, let us go to Chautauqua then.”
It might be a good thing to get out of Buffalo for a while.
***
Chautauqua was indeed lovely. Set on the shore of the pristine lake, there were all sorts of amusements to be found besides lectures and classes, and Lindy found herself enjoying life again. They had booked their room at the Athenaeum for two weeks.
Now in the middle of the second week, Lindy walked along the brick path with Aunt Gertrude toward the amphitheater, enjoying the patches of blue sky that shone through the leafy branches overhead.
Her aunt had selected a lecture on Dante’s The Divine Comedy for the morning class. “Why don’t you choose the afternoon lecture, Lindy?” Gertrude waved the program at her niece. “Don’t make me do all the work.”
“Oh, Auntie, you know you’ve been dying to hear Jane Addams’s discourse on ‘The Social Obligations of Citizenship—’” She halted stock-still in the middle of the path, causing several people to swerve around them with mutters of irritation.
“What is it?” Gertrude asked.
Lindy didn’t answer. She couldn’t move or speak.
Is it him?
A tall blond man walked toward them, with a pretty girl on his arm, laughing up into his face. It can’t be. But her hand went to her throat where her breath had caught with a stab of pain. The adoring look on the girl’s face sent a dart of ice through Lindy’s heart.
A moment later, the couple stopped in front of her, and it was the man’s turn to freeze, all color draining from his face. “Lindy?” Jack choked.
***
Lindy’s vision went dark and sparkly at the edges.
“She’s going to faint!” shrilled Aunt Gertrude, and then someone caught Lindy and lifted her to a bench. When she opened her eyes, Jack was fanning her with his hat. Behind him, the pretty blond girl glowered at her, her gaze narrowed, while Aunt Gertrude hovered in the background.
“Oh, thank goodness.” Jack sat next to her and stared into her face. “Dearest Lindy, where have you been all this time? I’ve been desperately trying to find you.”
The familiar scent of sandalwood enveloped her, and she nearly swooned again. “Jack,” she whispered and clutched his sleeve.
“You didn’t marry him.” He smiled at her, and her heart gave a queer, little jump. “What a brave thing to do.”
Lindy sat up, trying to collect herself, and moved to the end of the bench, aware of the pretty blond girl listening to every word. “You know? How?”
“I only found out recently. An article in The Buffalo Evening News. The society pages, for pity’s sake.”
“Oh, that horrid piece.”
Behind Jack, the blond girl stepped closer, eyeing Lindy.
“I was there, you know.”
“What?”
“At the wedding. I snuck into the third balcony early that morning. I wanted to see you one last time. And then you had the ridiculous veil on. I couldn’t see a thing.”
Lindy’s head reeled. “Then you saw—?”
“No, I had already left.” Jack smiled crookedly. “If only I had stayed.”
“Darling.” The blond girl laid a proprietary hand on his coat sleeve. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
Lindy’s jaw fell open. Darling? The smile on the girl’s face changed from pleasant to triumphant. Lindy managed to clamp her mouth closed and get to her feet. “Yes, please do introduce me to your charming companion.”
“Yes.” Jack stared at Lindy and gulped. “Uh, yes.” He stood, and the girl immediately entwined her arm into his, never taking her gaze from Lindy. “Miss Lindenmayer, may I introduce Miss Gillian Vincent.”
Gillian lifted her chin. “His fiancée.” She shot Lindy a smug look.
Lindy choked and stumbled backward. Somehow, she managed to regain her balance and walk away. Her spine straight, she took one step, then two, and then as fast as her corset would allow, she raced back to the hotel and up the stairs to her room, where she burst through the door and threw herself on the bed. No tears came. All she could do was shake her head and moan. How could this be? Had he been here all along? In the same state? Had her father known?
The questions beat through her mind like a relentless drum. Bitter fluid rushed into her mouth, and she lurched to the bathroom, violently sick.
***
Jack flung Gillian’s hand off his arm and turned on her. “Why did you say that? It isn’t true!”
“It’s almost true. Isn’t it?”
He hesitated, and she smiled then. “Be honest, John.”
Perhaps he had been drifting that way in the beginning. But only because he’d thought Lindy was gone, married to the duke, and living in England. Everything has changed now.
He took a step back, his mind reeling. “I have to find her,” he said hoarsely. “I’m sorry.”
He turned and ran, searching for the pale green dress that had made Lindy’s eyes the color of the sea. “Excuse me, please,” he said, pushing through the crowd of people who swarmed the path. “Let me through, please.” It was an uphill battle, as most of the campers headed toward the amphitheater and the classrooms after breakfast. The camp was in full morning operation, and he was going against the flow.
***
Aunt Gertrude crept into Lindy’s bedroom a short while later.
“I can’t stay, Auntie. I have to get away from here.”
“I understand, dear. Of course. We’ll leave today.”
Lindy sat up. “There’s no need for you to go.”
Gertrude shrugged. “I’ve heard most of the lectures I planned on. No matter.” She hesitated. “So... that was Jack?”
Lindy nodded. “His uncle said he’d gone out west. All this time, I thought him in California. And he was here, at Chautauqua.” She bit her lip. “Engaged.” Her throat thickened again, and she swallowed hard. She had to get out.
She jumped off the bed and dragged her suitcase out from under it. Never had she packed so quickly, jumbling dresses and waists and ribbons together in her haste.
An hour later, they were on the City of Cincinnati, headed toward Buffalo.
***
Jack had covered all the open areas of the camp when he stopped, his breath ragged, and slapped his head. He wasn’t thinking clearly. She’d probably have gone to her lodgings, obviously being upset when she ran from him. And here he was at the tail end of the camp. He sprinted toward the Athenaeum Hotel but had to stop at the bottom of the staircase to catch his breath while his pulse thumped painfully at his temples. Retrieving his handkerchief, he wiped his sweaty face and straightened his coat. Please, Lord, let her be here.
The desk clerk at the hotel shook his head at Jack. “Checked out, sir, about twenty minutes ago.”
“Did they leave a forwarding address?”
“One moment.” He turned to search the file behind him and then smiled regretfully. “I’m sorry, sir. No forwarding address.”
This couldn’t be happening. Once again, he had just missed her. He left the hotel and ran pell-mell through the grounds toward the beach and the pier. Maybe they hadn’t left yet.
“Long gone, sir,” said the ticket master. “Next one due in at two thirty.”
Jack swallowed hard and took the path to the beach. Boats and trains reached Chautauqua from nearly every point in the eastern United States. No telling where they had gone. His fist shot out and hammered a tre
e trunk until the pain stopped him. Gasping, he sank to his knees.
***
He skipped supper and took a canoe out, paddling hard along the western shore of the lake until his shoulders ached. The shouts of children on the beach and the faint snatches of music practice receded behind him. Only the waves purling on the shore, and his rapid breaths reached him. He shipped his paddle, letting the canoe drift, and watched a water bug skate across the surface of the lake.
Now what? Lord, how could I have lost her again? What do I do now?
And Gillian. There was no doubt in his mind Gillian’s announcement of their engagement had caused Lindy to run away.
He had to get out of the camp. He hadn’t left its confines even once since his arrival in March. It truly was a large town sufficient unto itself, complete with its own post office, grocery store, newspaper, a sewage system, power plant, and waterworks. But right now, he had to get out of Chautauqua.
After beaching the canoe, he went to the train station and booked a ticket to New York City for the next morning. Perhaps he could muscle his way into Otto Winthrop’s office and confront the man directly. He packed his suitcase and sent a note to Bishop Vincent, requesting a short leave of absence. But what to do about Gillian? He was writing her a note when a knock sounded at his door. Gillian stood outside. She looked at the pen in his hand and sighed. Then she turned and walked a few steps to the sitting room at the end of the hall. He followed her.
She turned abruptly to confront him, her fists clenched. “You’re leaving?”
How can I explain it to her? “I must, Gillian. I have to figure out what I’m doing.”
“Are you having doubts?” Her lower lip trembled. “About us?” She put her hand on Jack’s arm. “Don’t make a decision now. You’re overwrought.”