Lilacs for Juliana (The Christy Lumber Camp Series Book 3)

by Carrie Fancett Pagels

  The pupils of her eyes loomed large and dark. “Did you receive my missive, too? Is that why you’re here?”

  Richard swallowed. He should be more concerned about the other two ladies, but all he could think of at the moment was making sure Juliana was safe. “Is Sister Mary Lou all right?”

  “She’ll need at least another month before she can travel.”

  “Reckon she’ll have to stay here, then, when we go.”

  “When we go?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  She raised a dark eyebrow. “I believe that’s best for Gracie. Although she is officially employed as Isabelle’s nanny, now, I believe some chaperoning is still in order.”

  “He ain’t bothered her, has he?”

  Juliana chuckled. “I’m guessing there may be a wedding in this household before Sister Mary Lou departs.”

  “And another wedding sooner than that, if I have my way.” He breathed in the sweet scent of her, wanting to pull her close again.

  “Dr. Howerter recommends Sister Mary Lou return by train, not by ship.” She cocked her head to the side.

  “Good idea.” That darned infernal ship made him seasick. He still felt a little queasy.

  Juliana ran a finger over his lower lip. “So we’ll return by train?”

  He was never getting on another boat, again, if he could help it, but she didn’t need to know that. But look what happened by not telling her about his trouble with lilacs. “Both. I ain’t too keen on boat travel.”

  Instead of disgust, or disapproval, she clapped her hands together. “I feel the same way.”

  “About ships or about being in love?” He kissed her again, lifting her off her feet before slowly lowering her until her feet touched the carpet on the floor. She pressed in against him and he deepened the kiss. Lord, have mercy, there would be a batch of little Christy young’uns in no time at all once they got hitched.

  Juliana groaned. She must get herself under control. She continued embracing Richard and kissing him until she heard someone clearing their throat, behind them.

  “Tut, tut, I’m afraid that with your chaperone recovering in her room, I’m left to the task, Miss Beauchamps.” Her host chuckled.

  Richard grasped her hand and brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them, warming them. “This here gal is gonna be my bride soon.”

  “I am?” She elbowed him. “I don’t remember being asked. At least not in person.”

  James laughed. “I see, well, since a proposal seems to be in order, how about if I settle on the top stair and wait for Mr. Christy to finish his business? Sound fair?”

  Without waiting for a response, James removed himself to the stairwell and promptly sat and opened his newspaper.

  Richard bent and leaned his forehead against hers.

  “Why were you shouting earlier?”

  He pressed his mouth near her ear, tickling her with his breath. “So you’re fine? He ain’t hurt ya or anything?”

  She pulled away, and he straightened. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’ll explain later.” Dropping onto one knee, he took her hand in his. “Miss Juliana Beauchamps, if you’ll have a lumberjack for a husband, then I won’t be in trouble with the Library Board.”

  Juliana cocked her head. “How is that?”

  “When Hatchens’ nephew ran off with the newest schoolmarm, leavin’ the library high and dry, the Board was right quick to put together a new and better contract for you.”

  When she pushed a lock of hair from his brow he almost pulled her down into his arms again. “So how are you in trouble?”

  “Miss Griffis delivered the contract to the camp by mistake. And me, your Ma, and Claudette—well, we had a nice little bonfire with it that night.”

  A deep chuckle rose up in her tiny frame. There might be over a foot and a half in height that separated them, but they understood one another. And that counted for a whole lot.

  The train, crossing Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, rumbled on. Juliana snuggled against her husband’s shoulder. With Gracie as her attendant and James as Richard’s, they’d been married by Yost’s German Lutheran pastor in the church which the Yost family had built near their home. Maisy had wrapped a bouquet of roses, lilies, and Queen Anne’s Lace for her. The butler, Rawley, who’d forgiven Richard his brusque treatment, had pinned a rosebud on her groom’s new suit coat.

  The train whistle announced their next stop, and the train began to slow. Metal screeched against metal and the clack of the wheels turning grew less frantic. Would tonight be as wonderful as those that preceded it?

  “You glad I agreed to be your chaperone?” Richard teased as he drew her fingers to his lips, and then kissed them.

  Pretending shock, she pulled her hand free and pressed both to her cheeks. “Why, sir, if this is your notion of chaperoning…”

  Richard captured her mouth with his and then pulled away. “I love you, Mrs. Christy.”

  “Mrs. Bon Jean sounds better.”

  He chuckled, the sound beginning low and rumbling through his broad chest. “How about I call ya that in private?” Richard kissed her cheek and she sighed.

  “What are our families going to say?” Juliana whispered as he leaned in and pressed his forehead against hers.

  Pulling away, Richard pointed out the window to a bright white three story hotel. “I reckon they’ll be right happy that we got hitched, when ya have our son.”

  “Our daughter, you mean.” She poked him in the middle of his chest. “And there are no babies coming our way.”

  “Yet.” He grinned. “But I’m praying God will bless us with a passel of them.”

  Her heart skipped a beat as his dark eyes pierced hers with meaning. Bon Jean may not have brought her brothers home, but Richard could give her children. “If we have sons, I’d like to name them in honor of my lost brothers. Gerard, Pierre, Phillip were killed in that horrible war and Pascal died in the iron ore mines. Would that be all right with you?”

  Richard’s eyes widened, and then he tilted his head back and laughed. “You already have four sons planned? I knew there was a good reason we should get married right away. We’ve got to get started on giving your Ma more grandbabies to spoil.”

  Her mother wasn’t getting any younger. Yet now she was working in a lumber camp. And enjoying it. God sure had surprised them all this past year. “I wish Sean and Connor would come back home from the army. I don’t think either has married.”

  Richard’s features tugged in question. “How come they’ve got Irish names and the others don’t?”

  “Unlike your family, my mother was the first generation of her family born here and she went by the old ways.” Taking a deep breath, Juliana explained the Irish fashion of naming children in a certain order. By the time she was done explaining both the male and female patterns, which were extensive, a groove had formed between her spouse’s eyes.

  “Maybe we’d best stick with just boys, ya reckon?”

  As far as Richard was concerned, they’d flown home on a fancy hot air balloon and not ridden a soot-spouting railroad. Now, though, it was time to come back to earth. And face all the folks back home.

  Seated next to him, Juliana squeezed his arm. “Tell me again about Mr. Hatchens. I just can’t believe what you said about him.”

  Richard laughed. “Neither could I. But before I left on the ship, I ran into him. I told him we burned up your contract and he needed to find him a new librarian.”

  “And you made him squirm, didn’t you?” She tapped his arm playfully.

  “Reckon so. Let him stew a bit in his own juices before I told him I’d be returnin’ from Milwaukee with my bride. Leastwise, I was hopin’ you’d be mine.” He kissed her forehead.

  “And then did he really shake your hand?” Bright blue eyes met his. Would their children have those same Lake Michigan colored eyes or dark ones like his?

  “Threw out his hand and pumped mine hard, congratulated me on my good sense.
Then acted all sheepish, and said if I’d allow my wife to work until they found a replacement, that he’d be indebted to me.”

  “Mr. Hatchens must have gagged, having to beg you like that.”

  “Shucks, no, he gave me a lecture on the Christian way to be a good husband and to cherish my wife and protect her.”

  “He didn’t!” Her pretty mouth formed a perfect O.

  “He did. Turns out his own mother ran a boarding house and he believes a woman should be cared for by her husband and stay at home and pampered to the fullest extent possible.”

  “Pampered at a lumber camp?” It sounded like his sweet wife snorted, but she’d turned her head away.

  The conductor walked through. “We’ll be in St. Ignace soon.”

  Checking around them, in their seats and on the floor for anything she’d missed, Juliana placed her bag on her lap. “I’ve got everything, how about you?”

  “Got everything I need right beside me.”

  Juliana stepped down into her husband’s outstretched arms from the train. Nothing in town had changed. But why did it all look brighter? The newly painted buildings, readied for the tourist season, seemed to have been revived just for her. Their vinegar-cleaned windows reflected back the sun’s rays as Richard set her down and pulled her toward the area where baggage would be unloaded. How good to be home.

  “Moose!” Garrett and Rebecca stood up from a bench near the ferry dock.

  Carters carried furniture past them, to a dray parked out on the street. Josephine Christy and her fiancé Tom Jeffries stood by the wagon, watched the men, and pointed to open spots for them to fill. From this vantage point, she couldn’t discern what the elaborate designs were, that were carved into the oak chests. A beefy man loaded it with the help of another worker.

  “Got a surprise for you, Mrs. Christy.” Richard kissed the top of her head.

  “I love surprises!”

  Rebecca and Garrett joined them and her future sister-in-law drew her into her arms. “We got the telegram. Congratulations, you two!”

  Her brother-in-law shook hands with Richard before pulling him into a quick bear hug. “Our baby brother has beat us all to the altar.”

  Richard pulled away, stretched his shoulders back so that his chest grew even broader and patted there. “And right proud of it, brother. I’ve got the good sense to recognize an opportunity when I see it and act on it.”

  Rebecca tugged on Richard’s arm. “Did you tell her yet? About your father?”

  “I forgot.”

  Garrett’s eyes rolled upward, in apparent disgust, then addressed his comments to Juliana, “Our pa is gonna rent one of your ma’s cabins so he can be close to the camp.”

  “But not too close.” Her groom winked at her.

  So her mother would have income from the rent. Melanie, Claudette, and her mother would have pay from their cook jobs at the camp. God was answering her prayers. Thank you, Lord.

  She watched as, without a ‘fare thee well’, Tom Jeffries and Josephine drove off in the dray.

  Garrett jerked a thumb toward the direction in which they’d departed. “We’ll meet them out in the camp, but they’ve got some business to do before we get there.”

  “Our carriage is over there.” Rebecca pointed to a rental from the livery. “You can ride out with us.”

  “There’s our luggage now.” Juliana pointed out the banded black leather trunks that James had purchased as a wedding gift.

  Garrett patted his stomach. “Jo left us a basket lunch we can eat on the drive out. Reckon we best eat it before we get there and the kids all tear into it.”

  “Is it in the carriage?” Her husband licked his lips.

  With a soft smile, Rebecca gestured to the water. “Frenchie, Pearl, Amelia, and her little brothers and sister went by boat to the Beauchamps with Pa and Irene.”

  “So they’re all out at the camp waitin’ on us?”

  “Yup.”

  Had Bell’s crew completed the addition to his cabin? Richard’s brow began to sweat as they drew closer.

  “Are you all right?” Juliana took his hand in his.

  “Seems strange having my brother drive.”

  Rebecca turned and grinned. “I love having him drive me all over Mackinac Island. The children and I have discovered all sorts of fun places to hike and bicycle, but we all love it when Garrett takes us for a ride.”

  A bump in the road tossed him and Juliana together.

  “Oh!” It felt nice having her clutch his arm.

  Would she like his gifts? Would there be room? Would he be teased forever? Didn’t matter—she was worth it.

  As they pulled into the camp, he spied their cottage, now doubled in size, its wood siding much lighter in color than the original building. Pa, hands on hips, watched as the crew lined up.

  “What are they doing?” Juliana pointed to the lumberjacks unloading the dray.

  Garrett called over his shoulder. “Them shanty boys are settin’ up my new gallery.”

  “Gallery?”

  His brother, the talented craftsman, pulled the buggy to a stop. “Sure thing, Juliana. I’ve made furniture with lilacs burned into the wood, carved into it, or painted on.”

  His teasing tone must have been lost on Juliana because she frowned and asked, “Why?”

  “My baby broth—”

  Richard cut him off. “I can’t have lilac flowers around me. Makes me sneeze my head off. Shoulda told ya earlier, Juliana.”

  “Makes him real sick.” Just like Ox to try to have the last word.

  Richard stepped out and secured the horses.

  Amy ran from the cook house. “Can we see all the gifts now?”

  “Sh!” Rebecca raised her index finger to her mouth.

  Helping Juliana out, Richard turned her so he could carry her to the cabin, their new home. “Mr. Christy, put me down.”

  Her protest was accompanied by giggles, so he ignored it and brought her into the expanded cottage. Fresh lumber scent filled his nostrils. Turning Juliana in a slow half circle, he whispered in her ear. “Do ya see all the lilacs, Juliana?”

  “I do.” She traced a fingertip over his lips, marveling that this man was her husband, her own Bon Jean. “You must have wanted me here really badly to go to this trouble.”

  A slow grin covered his handsome face. “And now we have lilacs for you, Juliana, every day of the year.”

  Tears slipped down her cheeks. No one had ever done something so special for her.

  He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “I feel like mailing that Puumala fella a thank you card.”

  She stiffened. “Oh?” When she tried to pull away, Richard held her fast.

  “Yup, he did me a favor and I’m right grateful.” He pressed kisses into her hair. “You’re the only one for me and that fool man made it possible for me to marry ya. So if I ever do meet him, I’ll shake his hand.”

  Laughter bubbled up out of her. “You’re thinking of that right now?”

  “I worried about Yost and then I got to worryin’ about Puumala and by the time I got to Milwaukee I had a full head of steam on.”

  “Poor Rawley. He got the brunt of it.”

  “Yost thanked me for not punching him, when I explained what all we feared. Said I spared his daughter some trauma.”

  “Isabelle has suffered more than a child that age should. But I think Gracie has done wonders with her. She takes marvelous care of her.”

  “So do ya think she might stay there?”

  “I don’t know.” She placed her hands on his cheeks. “But I do know where I’m staying—right here with you.”

  Where God had been leading her all along.

  The End

  Thank you for reading Book Three in The Christy Lumber Camp Series! If you enjoyed reading Lilacs for Juliana, would you please consider posting a review on Amazon, goodreads, or another social media review site?

  Author’s Notes

  Railroads continue
d to make huge inroads to all parts of our great nation, including Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. And boat travel on the Great Lakes was a popular way to reach a destination quickly.

  As I mentioned in The Fruitcake Challenge and The Lumberjacks’ Ball, I really am the descendant of lumberjacks and I have a cousin who continues to work in the industry. The mighty pines of Michigan drew my ancestors up north. Michigan’s Eastern Upper Peninsula was becoming a busy place at the turn of the century. My grandfather ran a lumber camp near my hometown.

  In this book, because I gave the matriarch, Nora O’Rourke Beauchamps, an Irish heritage, first generation in America, I had her name her children in the Irish conventions. This resulted in the alternating of French names, from the father’s side, and Irish names from the mother’s side (from Irish Genealogy Toolkit website).

  A great many men died in the Civil War. The statistics are different between the North and South, with more Southern families having experienced a loss. One demographic, I read, was one in four dead from the North. Three of the four fictional Beauchamps sons fighting in the war died, an unusually large loss.

  St. Ignace, Michigan, was a busy city at the turn of the century, with four newspapers and a vibrant tourist industry. Today, it is a small town in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, but still lovely. You can download a walking tour PDF from the Fort DeBuade website (www.fortdebuade.com) to give you an idea of St. Ignace’s street layout. (Click here from a tablet for the walking tour pdf.)

  By the turn of the century, lumberjacks had harvested most of Lower Michigan’s “White Gold”—virgin white pines that could be as big around as a man was tall. The camps moved on to the Upper Peninsula, where hardwoods were more predominant, as well as the pines.

  The Paul Bunyan stories that we know today originally derived from Paul Bon Jean folklore. These tales were told for decades, in the lumber camps, before someone finally put the stories into print. Lumberjacks lived an isolated life, as far as social amenities, and often amused each other with tall tales. Bon Jean stories resulted in a far “bigger than life” lumberjack but were a representation of the camp culture. I grew up with the whole Paul Bunyan lore around me. We even had a Paul Bunyan restaurant in my hometown of Newberry, Michigan!