by Kay Stuart
“You must not concern yourself. Imogen and I are both good seamstresses. I am sure we can make any alterations necessary. Laurie is seven,” Faith replied making the right sounds of gratitude. People expected their offerings to be appreciated and rightly so.
“Seven you say. So very young to be without family,” Mrs. Bloom sympathized clucking sadly. “Will you be keeping the girl,” she asked coming into the parlor. She glanced around the room hoping to see the child. Poor Mrs. Gaines with five daughters of her own and now taking in an orphan child. Raising girls is much more expensive than boys.
“Sheriff Walden is checking into any family she might have,” Faith answered. “Please come into the dining room for a cup of coffee. The weather is beautiful today,” she added. “We were all hoping there would not be a return of Monday’s dreadful weather. Funerals are bad enough without having to stand outside in the rain.”
“Thank you,” Mrs. Bloom replied pulling a chair from under the dining table. “The weather seldom cooperates,” the woman agreed. “It seems to rain at funerals when there hasn’t been a shower for weeks.” Mrs. Bloom took the cup offered and set it on the table in front of her. She spooned sugar into her coffee adding cream from a small pitcher Faith placed on the table.
“Mrs. Hock brought by a loaf of her famous pumpkin bread. Will your have a slice with coffee,” Faith asked while she poured her coffee.
“Yes. Thank you,” Mrs. Bloom replied. “I mustn’t stay but a minute. I have a roast cooking. I will bring it by before the funeral.” Mrs. Bloom ate her slice of pumpkin bread and enjoyed her coffee. “I do believe Mrs. Hock put too much ginger in her bread this time,” the woman said standing. Before Faith could reply the woman was out the backdoor nearly running as she headed towards home.
“Thank you,” Faith called after the departing woman. Sure Mrs. Bloom was hurrying home to put a roast on to cook. One thing about the ladies of Junction City they never let another woman out do their charitable work. The Gaines Family would receive a pyramid of gifts.
“Who called,” Mary Gaines asked coming into the kitchen.
“Mrs. Bloom brought dresses for Laurie,” Faith answered as she washed dishes.
“How thoughtful,” Mary replied. “The child has very little worth keeping,” she whispered. “I wonder how she managed to keep body and soul together.”
“Children accept whatever they are given,” Faith answered.
“So true,” Mary replied sadly. “I left a pile of blankets and clothes on the back porch. I will do the washing in the morning.” Mary took the chair across the table from her daughter. “A death always reminds me how fragile life is,” she whispered.
“Imogen has Laurie upstairs. We thought it would be better if no one sees her before the funeral. People can be thoughtless in their comments,” Faith explained.
“People seldom mean to be cruel,” Mary replied tactfully.
“Words can hurt all the same,” Faith answered. “Have you finished cleaning the wagon,” she asked.
“Philip is finishing now,” Mary replied. “He is taking down the canvas top. The wagon is in quite good shape really considering the miles it must have traveled. Mr. Dial has offered to buy the wagon which is probably for the best. One less reminder to Laurie of what has taken place,” Mary stated.
“Laurie seems happy enough,” Faith said.
“I heard her crying during the night,” Mary replied.
“Yes,” Faith said. “Nights do seem to be the hardest. When everyone is sleeping and there is time to think.” Mary wondered if Faith was talking about Laurie or herself. She had noticed Faith’s restlessness of late. Sympathized with her daughter’s decision not to marry Mr. Cook yet it was worrisome. Her father was no longer a young man and the Stern Family money went to a male cousin when he died. Not that Mary begrudged Timothy his inheritance so much as she worried about her daughters’ future.
“Imogen and I will take care of visitors,” Faith offered. “There are sure to be a long procession and you can help Father with what needs to be done.”
Faith did not wait for a reply. Picking up the package Mrs. Bloom had left she went upstairs to Imogen’s room. Laurie and Imogen were sitting on the floor in her bedroom. “Imogen is making me a sock doll,” Laurie announced waiting breathlessly for the doll to take shape. Imogen held up an old cotton sock. String had been tied around the toe and stuffed to form a doll’s head. Two blue buttons were sewn on to for eyes. The doll had a pink satin ribbon mouth.
“She is beautiful,” Faith said. “Have you decided on a name yet?” She placed the brown package on Imogen’s bed before turning back to Laurie. “Your new baby must have a suitable name.”
Laurie scrunched up her face in concentration. “Apple,” the child said cheerfully.
“Apple,” Faith said, mystified by Laurie’s choice for a name.
“Apples are round like her head,” Laurie further explained, “And red like the yarn Imogen is using to make her hair.” All week the sisters had been working to teach Laurie the names of various colors.
“Perhaps Alice would be a better name,” Imogen suggested.
“Alice,” Laurie repeated, “Alright,” the child cheerfully accepted Imogen’s advice.
Faith untied the string around Mrs. Bloom’s package and folded back the paper. Laurie stood beside her the child’s eyes wide with wonder. “I am not sure how they will fit,” Faith cautioned as she held up the first dress. It was a pretty blue and several sizes to large.
“I will start taking out seams,” Imogen offered as she finished sewing an arm on Alice. “There should be enough material to make Alice a matching dress. What do you say,” she asked Laurie.
A knock on the front door interrupted Laurie’s reply. “I will see to our caller,” Faith said. When she had come into Imogen’s room she had left the bedroom door standing open so they could hear when someone knocked on the front door.
Mrs. Dial stood on the front porch. She looked how Faith thought a livery stable owner’s wife should look. Tall for a woman and large boned. Mrs. Dial was always cheerful. “I have here a pot of string beans and ham. After the funeral everyone will be stopping by your house for a chat and a bite to eat.” She handed Faith the kettle of food. “I have my washtub packed with dishes,” she indicated the wagon parked in front of the house. “Be right back. A body never has enough dishes at a time like this.”
“Thank you,” Faith said to the departing woman’s back. She was in the kitchen when Mrs. Dial carried her washtub through the house.
“Where do you want this,” Mrs. Dial asked.
“On the table,” Faith replied. She would count the dishes as she unpacked the washtub. One must be careful to return another’s generously offered property.
Mrs. Dial did not say goodbye.
“Thank you,” Faith called again as she stood at the front door.
Mrs. Adkins stopped her buggy behind Mrs. Dial’s wagon. The woman was the opposite of Mrs. Dial. Mrs. Adkins was frail looking with blue veined hands and hair as white as a winter’s snow. She wore her customary black dress and plain black bonnet. “Good day,” Mrs. Adkins called to Mrs. Dial.
“Hello,” Faith greeted.
“Such a sad time,” Mrs. Adkins replied. She wiped tears off her cheers with a white lace handkerchief. The woman enjoyed funerals as long as they were not her own. “I baked bread yesterday,” she said. “Will you please be good enough to fetch the loaves from by buggy?”
“Yes. Of course,” Faith replied and followed Mrs. Adkins to her buggy. “You will come in for a cup of coffee,” Faith invited.
“No thank you,” Mrs. Adkins replied. “This weather is hard on my joints. The cold, you know. I dread winter coming,” she added. “I am thinking of visiting my sister in Rock Cliff. It is warmer there, you know,” she declared.
As long as Faith could remember Mrs. Adkins said every winter she was going to visit her sister in Rock Cliff. The poor dear never has to Faith’s knowledge.
“You will be missed,” Faith replied. “I don’t know what Mother will do without your help on Sunday mornings.” The woman beamed at Faith’s words of gratitude.
“I will see,” Mrs. Adkins replied. She wrapped her black shawl tighter around her thin shoulders.
“Thank you,” Faith said as Mrs. Adkins entered her buggy. “I will see you later.”
Imogen had the dress seams open when Faith carried her sewing box into her sister’s bedroom. “Have you decided on a style,” she asked sitting on the edge of Valerie’s bed. The two sisters shared the bedroom.
“Young girls should always wear Mary Jane dresses with white pinafores,” Imogen declared. “A plain bodice and gathers at the waist with buttons down the back and rounded collars.”
“What was I thinking,” Faith replied flippantly. Imogen gave her older sister a sharp look then smiled when she noticed Faith’s smirk. “I really do agree,” Faith cajoled. “What are we going to use to make a pinafore?”
“God will provide,” Imogen stated holding the bodice up to Laurie’s shoulders. With a piece of chalk she marked lines where the fabric was to be cut.
The next caller was Miss Randall. Her red hair was tucked under a green bonnet and her dark green dress was concealed under a warm black cape. “Mrs. Bloom says the little girl is seven years old. So very young to be without parents,” She continued sincerely. “I brought a few things. I hope you don’t mind. Not having children I wasn’t sure but Mrs. Bloom assures me you and Imogen are very good seamstresses. You will make good use of my simple offering. It is difficult to know what to do at a time like this.” Rose handed Faith a brown wrapped package. Miss Randall was a quiet young woman. Her sympathy was genuine.
“Thank you,” Faith replied wondering what made Miss Randall’s offering different from that of Mrs. Bloom.
“No need to thank me,” Miss Randall declared. “Goodbye Dearie.” With these words the woman stepped off the porch. She turned and waved before continuing home.
When the string was untied and the brown paper was folded back two white petticoats emerged. “How did you know,” Faith asked her sister.
“Mrs. Bloom is not the type of woman to let her charitable works be hidden under a bushel,” Imogen replied. “The minute you unwrapped Mrs. Bloom’s four dresses I was sure some good soul would bring by needed undergarments. One of the petticoats will be prefect for making a pinafore. The other we can make into undergarments.”
Holding her new baby doll in her arms Laurie watched Imogen cut out then stitch together her new dress. While Faith took out seams and gathers from a white petticoat.
Faith hurried downstairs to answer the knock on the front door. Muttering irritably under her breath when she opened the door to discover Jim Cook was standing on her front porch. She should have glanced out the bedroom window before coming downstairs then Imogen could have answered the door.
“Good morning,” Mr. Cook greeted. He leaned towards Faith as if his very presence should delight the young woman.
“Yes,” Faith replied. Well, at least it had been a good morning before she answered the door. She stepped back hoping Mr. Cook would not follow her inside. The last thing she needed was Mr. Cook in the parlor. The man’s smile was odious.
“Mother regrets not being able to come herself,” Mr. Cook continued. He was late in removing his hat. A sign of arrogance on his part Faith believed. “I brought you a barrel of apple cider. I am sure the good ladies of Junction City will provide amble food but on a cold fall day apple cider warms a man’s soul.”
“Thank you,” Faith replied almost choking over her words. She was seeping with anger at Mr. Cook’s condescending attitude. The man was becoming more than a pest! He was a bore!
“May I bring it inside,” Mr. Cook asked. Only then did Faith notice the barrel setting on the porch at the man’s feet.
“Please do,” Faith replied. “I believe Mother is in the kitchen.” She turned towards the stairs hoping for a rapid escape.
“I was thinking you might have a moment to visit,” Mr. Cook said. His intentions were plain and talk was the last thing on the man’s mind.
Faith felt trapped by circumstances.
“Mother,” Faith called hoping Mr. Cook did not hear the panic in her voice. Imogen appeared at the top of the stairs. Laurie peeked around her long skirt.
“Mr. Cook,” Imogen greeted. “Apple cider I do believe,” she added. Jim Cook stood in the parlor with a large barrel resting on one shoulder. “So kind of you to think of us.” She gracefully walked down the stairs and took over the situation. “Do come into the kitchen. I believe the corner table,” she suggested to Faith. “Is it clear?”
“I will see,” Faith disappeared through the dining room door still muttering under her breath. Feeling unnerved by Mr. Cook’s attitude. His look had been one of possessiveness.
“Not a moment to ourselves,” Imogen said softly so as not to appear critical. “The ladies have been showing up all morning with gifts and condolences. You do understand,” Imogen continued in her soft voice.
“Yes of course,” Mr. Cook replied wondering at Imogen’s frankness. He disliked women that spoke their mind. “I won’t keep you,” he said and placed the barrel of apple cider on the table indicated.
“Thank you,” Imogen replied. “May I walk you to the front door?”
The door closed silently behind Mr. Cook. Imogen laughed softly as she viewed Faith’s mutinous glare. “Thank you,” Faith said leaning her head against Imogen’s shoulder. “I panicked. The man is odious. Why he should decide he wants to marry me is beyond my comprehension. The more I snub the man the more determined he seems to get.”
“You will look decorative on his arm,” Imogen replied mischievously. Knowing in her heart what she said was partially true. Mr. Cook felt he deserved an attractive wife.
“Goodness,” Faith said before taking a deep breath. “I hope I am more than a decoration. The sooner Mr. Cook realizes how I feel, the better.”
“Men like Mr. Cook never realize anything,” Imogen predicted. “His opinion is the only one that matters.”
Faith gave her sister a startled look. Imogen was correct. The Mr. Cooks of this world would never believe they did not know what was best. “Another reason to avoid the man,” Faith declared vehemently.
“I will answer the door from now on,” Imogen offered.
“Too late,” Faith replied. She was regaining some of her sense of humor. When faced with disaster cheerfulness was the only salvation. Mr. Cook’s attentions were disastrous. “Mr. Cook has been here and departed.”
“You never know when he might think up another excuse for a visit,” Imogen reminded.
“You can answer the door,” Faith declared whole heartedly. She did not want to face Mr. Cook again today. Her nerves were still tingling in alarm over their first encounter.
Chapter Fifteen
At the gravesite, Laurie stood between Mary Gaines and Faith. The child looked at the new faces gathered around the hole dug into the ground and wondered what was taking place. Faith squeezed the child’s fingers and gave Laurie a sad smile. Laurie watched as six men carried a wooden box across the cemetery. They stopped beside the hole and lowered the box into the ground before pulling up ropes. Then they stood with the coiled ropes in hands held behind their backs.
Laurie looked at Mary Gaines and wanted to ask what was happening. Why all the sad faces. The ladies were all dressed in black. The men were wearing black suits. Mary placed one finger against her lips indicating Laurie should remain silent.
Philip Gaines opened his Bible and began to read. Laurie thought the words sounded beautiful. “The Lord is my Shepherd. I shall not want.” Laurie wondered about the Lord. She had never heard the term before. She turned towards Faith and Faith placed an arm around her shoulders.
A few minutes later Reverend Gaines picked up a handful of dirt and threw it on top of the casket. Faith held onto Laurie as the citizens of Junction City passed
by the casket each picking up a handful of dirt and let it fall on the casket.
“What are they doing,” Laurie whispered.
“Saying goodbye,” Faith whispered in the child’s ear.
Mr. Hargadon threw his handful of dirt over top of the casket before coming to stand beside Faith.
“It’s your turn Dear,” Faith said gently as she stepped closer to the edge of the hole bringing Laurie with her. “You do want to tell your father goodbye,” she whispered as Laurie hesitated.
“Father,” Laurie said. She looked at Faith with troubled eyes then back at the wooden casket. While Faith waited she slowly realized the truth. Gulping for air big tears rolled down Laurie’s cheeks. “I didn’t know,” she wailed. “I didn’t know.” The child wrapped her arms around Faith’s knee sobbing into her skirt.
“We told you,” Faith reminded gentle. She knelt gathering the child close into her arms. “I am sorry you did not understand. Remember me telling you Mother will look after you.”
“I remember,” Laurie whispered her face buried in the folds of Faith’s black dress.
Royce picked the child up in his arms. “We need a few minutes alone,” he said and walked across the cemetery in the direction of the stables. Faith followed them Laurie peeking over Royce’s shoulder at her. Large tears rolled down the child’s face.
“Tell me what happened,” Royce cajoled patting Laurie on the back. The child hiccupped back her sobs. She was trembling with fear.
“Laurie is afraid of you,” Faith confided a few moments later placing one hand on Laurie’s back. The child’s breathing was labored. “She remembers seeing you somewhere and knows who you are.”
Royce sat Laurie on the top fence rail. One arm around the child’s waist held her securely by his side. “We’ve met before,” Royce asked.