by DiAnn Mills
“He told me.”
Morgan leaned back in his chair. “I see. And you believe him over Jenny?”
Grant hesitated. “I’m so furious with Jenny’s reasons for coming here that I guess I want to believe him.”
“Are you thinking he might be Rebecca’s father?”
“I was until this morning.” Grant hesitated while he sorted out his thoughts. “He admitted never being here before, and Jessica worked at Martha’s a year and a half before she died. There’s no way he could be Rebecca’s father.” He blew out an exasperated sigh. “Unless he lied instead of Jenny. Last night seeing Jenny and Turner together with my daughter in the middle was a little more than I could handle.”
“Don’t blame you.”
Grant pointed at the adoption file. “Are the papers legal and binding?”
“Yes. I did draw them up, remember? The documents were and are according to the laws of the state, and they have all been properly executed. Now, there’s always a chance Miss Martin will hire a lawyer to obtain custody.”
Silence prevailed, deafening silence that prevailed over the incessant ticking of the clock. Grant paused awhile longer before speaking.
“I think if she’d considered a lawyer, she would have mentioned it. The thought has crossed my mind—more than once—that Jenny might elect to snatch her away, especially with the way I made her furious last night.”
“She’d be in bad shape with the law if she attempted that.”
Grant laughed, the first all day. “Guess I needed reassurance. All right, big brother, I’ll head over there now and face the lady.”
“Do you mind if I share any of this with Casey?”
“Go ahead. I need all the prayers I can get.”
“Glad you came by for another reason. I have a request.”
Grant knew what was coming by the glint in his brother’s eye. “Does this have anything to do with branding?”
“Possibly.” A grin spread over Morgan’s face. “We could use you on Saturday. You could stay until Sunday morning. Rebecca loves the ranch.”
Grant laughed. “So this is all for Rebecca?”
“Naturally. And it would give Mimi a break too. Nothing like hard work to cure what ails you.”
“I’m so glad you have other peoples’ interests at heart. All right. We’ll be there.”
The idea of spending a day at the ranch sounded like good medicine. He could sort through the problems with Jenny and Turner, then have a better perspective on Sunday. Perhaps Jenny would attend church and dinner again. If not, he’d ask her the next week.
He startled. How could he want Jenny to leave town and want her to stay at the same time? Had he lost his mind? The woman had been nothing but trouble. She knew nothing about being a Christian, much less acting like one. Still, when she smiled and he saw Rebecca in her, he wanted to get to know her a little more. Suddenly, Grant felt the whole situation with Jenny was nothing more than a minor irritation.
*****
Early that morning Jenny had requested Mr. Snyder send for her trunks at Grant’s home. As she placed her personal belongings in the drawers and the armoire, she realized Mr. Turner had become more of a threat to her plan than Grant. She understood Grant a little better than Mr. Turner. The latter frightened her with his knowledge about Jessica and the fact he must have followed her to Kahlerville.
She shivered in the rising warmth of the day. Her decision last night weighed heavily on her mind. When she finished unpacking, she’d do what was necessary.
Midmorning, Jenny ventured downstairs. Telltale smells from breakfast caused her stomach to rumble, but she needed to tend to her errand first. After obtaining directions from Mr. Snyder and being introduced to his kind wife, Cleo Ann, she stepped out into a day filled with heavy clouds. The scent of rain replaced the aroma of bacon and eggs from the boardinghouse. Maybe the rain would lower the ghastly heat.
Once in front of Kahler’s General Store, she studied the two large display windows. One had women’s goods and the other men’s. Neither window had what she needed. She glanced at the storefront and thought the owner had done a fairly good job, considering the small town. Inside, a bell tinkled, and an assortment of smells met her—coffee, leather, cinnamon, and an herb she didn’t recognize. Any other time, she’d have browsed through the store.
“Can I help you?” A rather round man smiled.
“Yes, sir. I’m looking for a small revolver.”
Chapter 9
Grant left Morgan’s law office and headed to the boardinghouse, where he knew Jenny had taken up residence. The heaviness of dealing with her no longer plagued him. He imagined Jenny had gotten over her anger, and they’d be able to discuss their differences reasonably like adults.
He walked across the boardwalk in front of the general store and glanced inside the display window to see Jenny with Pete Kahler. He hesitated. Perhaps waiting outside for her made more sense than calling on her at the boardinghouse.
The moment she exited the store, he caught her attention. “Morning, Jenny. How are you doing?”
“Very well, until now.”
Ouch. “I was hoping we could talk.” She carried a purchase along with a drawstring bag draping from her wrist. “Would you like for me to carry your package?”
“That’s not necessary. I don’t want to talk, and I don’t need your help.”
A surge of anger snaked up his body, but he refused to let this little bit of a woman cause him to lose his temper again. “I think that if anyone should be angry in our situation, it should be me.”
“Oh? I don’t recall calling you a liar.”
“Are you still insisting that you and Aubrey Turner did not travel to Kahlerville together?”
“Yes. I repeat. I do not know the man.” A snippet of emotion edged her final word.
“Why would he tell me otherwise?” Grant almost believed her, or maybe he wanted to, which made no sense at all.
She drew in a quick breath. “Maybe he wants Rebecca.”
“Jenny, he couldn’t possibly be her father. He admitted never being in Kahlerville before, and Jessica lived here over a year and a half before she died.”
Her eyes moistened. “I . . . feared he might be. Why else would he follow me from Cleveland?”
“I have no idea.” Grant studied her a moment longer. “Are you frightened?”
Her lips quivered, and she pressed them together. “I’m not sure. The idea of Mr. Turner knowing things about me is a little disconcerting.”
“Do you want to talk to the sheriff—my brother-in-law?”
“Maybe. But not today.” She lifted her shoulders. “I must be going now.”
“May I check on you later?”
She shook her head. “No. It’s better this way.”
“If you change your mind, I’d like to introduce you to one of Jessica’s old friends.”
She turned in obvious interest. “I think I’d like that.”
“She knew Jessica better than anyone in this town.”
Jenny tilted her head in a charming manner. “My goodness. We’ve talked for five minutes without arguing. I’ll think about it all.” She nodded and walked away. With a swish of her skirts, she faced him. “Will I be allowed to see Rebecca?”
“I think we can do that.” He moved closer. “I’m very curious. Why didn’t your parents come with you?”
“They don’t know I’m here.” Jenny stared off down the street.
“Wouldn’t they worry about you? Or is that none of my business?”
She shook her head, fixing her eyes on the bank adjacent to the boardinghouse. “They think I’m traveling with friends in Boston.”
“You traveled all this distance without telling anyone where you were going?”
“You disapprove?” She faced him with a cold stare.
He arched a brow. “I just find it strange. What if something happened to you? Your parents would have lost two daughters.”
The pa
ined look on Jenny’s face moved him. “My parents are difficult to understand. They never fully recovered when Jessica ran away from home. You see, when she deserted them and involved herself in . . . other activities, they grew bitter. If they had known about this trip, they would have disowned me.” Suddenly, she stiffened, and a slight gasp escaped her. “I must be going now.”
“Then exactly why do you want Rebecca?” Grant battled the turmoil inside him. The strength he found to contain his temper was certainly not his own. “Jenny, I want to understand you, and I want to be your friend.”
Her face blanched, and he viewed an endless array of emotions in her face. For a moment, Grant saw a weakening in her otherwise stoic facade.
“Talk to me,” he said softly. “Tell me why you feel compelled to take my daughter away from the only family she’s ever known.”
“I’m neither ready nor prepared to answer your questions. Besides, it’s very complicated.”
He wanted to believe this woman could be won over. Hadn’t he observed her enough times to believe her crusty exterior masked something entirely different? “I have plenty of time to listen.”
She focused on the goings-on in the street as though they held more fascination than their conversation. A mangy dog trotted past. “Not today,” she said. “They are my parents. I owe them a life free from pain.”
Grant heard the misery in her fragile voice. “That’s not possible. Life will always have its hurts and sorrows. Everything in this world is temporary. Only God can give us true peace and contentment—”
“Grant, I must try. They are all I have.”
Long moments followed. Grant realized he couldn’t make any further progress at the present, but today had been a beginning. “I guess I’ll be on my way,” he said. “I need to see Mama and the reverend before heading home.”
She forced a smile. “Of course. I’m really anxious to get settled. Thank you for the assistance and medical attention.” Jenny extended a gloved hand.
He grasped it lightly. “You’re welcome. And don’t forget, Mama invited you to spend next Sunday with us.”
“I’m not sure.” Jenny’s slender shoulders drooped momentarily. “I do appreciate the invitation, though.” She reached inside her drawstring bag. “I did write her and Reverend Rainer a note for yesterday. Would you be so kind as to deliver it for me?”
“Most certainly, and I’ll talk with you later on in the week about Sunday.” He accepted the note and deposited it inside his shirt pocket. “Let me know if you need anything.” He took a deep breath. “You are welcome to visit Rebecca as often as you wish, but she isn’t to leave the house without Mimi or me.”
He saw how his words cut through her like a jagged knife. Her lovely face visibly seethed with anger. “Are you merely being kind to me so that I’ll keep my behavior under control?” She shook. “Has all this talk about me being a part of your family just been a syrupy pretense?” She took a ragged breath. “Please, just leave me alone.”
Grant obliged, comprehending that more discussion inevitably invited an argument. Watching her leave, he questioned what kind of relationship Jenny shared with her parents—and she certainly did not know the Lord. Her sister lay buried, and he’d heard enough to perceive remorse on her part. Without Rebecca, she had no hope at all. All that remained for Jenny was the anticipation of having for her own, a brown-eyed little girl.
He shook his head and shuddered. Oh, heavenly Father, it appears that Jenny is using Rebecca as her savior. Show me how to help her find You.
Grant watched her disappear into the boardinghouse, bewildered at his response to her and frustrated that she’d ever come to town. But what role did Turner play in this? Could the man be a potential threat? Question upon question filled his head while he stood in the middle of the hot street.
He shrugged and thought he’d pick up a licorice stick or two inside the general store. The reverend shared the same fondness for the candy, and he wanted to make sure he had some in his pocket.
“Hey, Grant. How are you doing?” Pete said.
“Good, I guess. If I started complaining, I’d be here all day.” He lifted the lid from the licorice jar and pulled out a half dozen pieces.
“That little gal who just left here sure surprised me.”
“Why’s that?” Unless Pete had tasted Jenny’s temper.
“She just bought a revolver.”
*****
Jenny finished unpacking and walked downstairs to the boardinghouse’s dining room. She’d worked through the rest of the morning, making sure her belongings were put away neatly. For the moment, she felt optimistic about the future. Grant would allow her to see Rebecca, and she had a weapon to protect both the child and herself from Aubrey Turner.
She heard laughter and someone humming a nondescript tune. The sound of music always soothed her. The smell of chicken and dumplings made her mouth water. Life could be good. This had to be a positive omen.
The dining room looked inviting, not formal and sophisticated, but homey. Odd how her preferences had changed since leaving home. Mother and Father would never lower themselves to eat here. She smiled. She’d become a bit rebellious of late. The blue and white gingham tablecloths and curtains were faded but clean like her room upstairs. Jenny seated herself at a corner table and requested the chicken and dumplings from a woman who wore a pale blue sun bonnet.
“Are you having a good day, Miss Martin?” Aubrey Turner said.
Jenny’s heart raced. She had the revolver in her crochet and beaded reticule, but it wasn’t loaded. She needed someone to show her how to fill its chambers with bullets and fire it. “It’s a fine day, Mr. Turner.”
“May I join you?”
“Of course.” She forced a faint smile. No point in refusing him when she didn’t know his capabilities. Surely he’ll not harm me here. Or am I being foolish?
“What an honor.” He removed his hat and placed it on an empty chair. “Thank you for your company this afternoon. Are you satisfied with the boardinghouse?”
“So far I’m pleased with the services here.”
“Archibald and Jeanette would not agree, I’m sure.”
Did Jessica tell you our parents’ names? What do you want from me? “You’re quite right. They would be appalled.” She leaned closer. “What do you know about my sister?”
His violet eyes sparkled. “A beautiful woman. My love. My life.”
“You said you were engaged?”
He nodded. “We would have been married by now if she hadn’t left me.”
“Left you? Why? Excuse me if I’m prying into your affairs, but I need to understand how you met my sister and why she ended up here.”
His face softened. He reached to take her hand, but she pulled it back. “I’m sorry,” he said. “You look so much like Jessica that it’s impossible for me to gaze upon your exquisite features without remembering the love I had for your sister.”
“Can you tell me about her?”
He nodded. A young woman served their dinner and set two tall glasses of lemonade on the table. Once the young woman moved toward the kitchen, he gave her an engaging smile. No wonder Jessica was attracted to him.
“First of all, please call me Aubrey, and may I call you Jenny?”
“Certainly.” Jenny lifted the lemonade to her lips. She needed to learn more about this man, and befriending him seemed to be the only way.
“Jessica and I met in Cleveland. She was with friends, and I was quite captivated with her beauty. I’d barely gotten to know her before she became ill. Do you remember when she caught the measles and your parents feared her face might scar?” Concern etched his brow. “I missed her so during those weeks.”
Jenny cringed with yet another accurate accounting of her sister. She vividly remembered the two weeks Jessica lay in a darkened bedroom, tossing fitfully in a raging fever.
“Despite their worries, she only received a tiny scar below her left earlobe,” he continued. “Ah, bu
t you, my dear, are as perfect as a freshly budded rose.”
Aubrey’s lavish compliments may have pleased Jessica, but Jenny found them repulsive. In the next few moments, he repeatedly praised Jenny’s beauty, her intelligence, her bravery for embarking upon a journey across the country alone, her resemblance to Jessica, and various other flatteries that nauseated her.
He is insufferable. It’s no wonder Jessica left him. Only an ignorant ninny would place any value in his superfluous words.
“What is your profession?” she said.
He straightened. “I’m an actor. That’s how I first met your sister—at a cast party at the theater in Cleveland.”
While sipping lemonade, Jenny willed the time to miraculously slip by. Her parents would have forbidden Jessica to see Aubrey. She could only imagine the turmoil in the Martin house. Her stomach twisted and churned, as it often did when she felt distressed. He did not answer her questions about Jessica but changed the conversation to talk about himself. During a rendition of Aubrey’s leading role in Romeo and Juliet in Cleveland, a yawn escaped her.
“Excuse me,” she said.
“It’s I who must beg your pardon.” Aubrey said. “You asked me why Jessica left Cleveland . . . and me.”
“This is very important to me.”
He moistened his lips and glanced away. “I don’t really know the reason. One moment we were happy and making plans for the future, and then she vanished. I was prepared to ask your father’s permission to marry Jessica the very day she disappeared.”
“She didn’t leave you a note?”
“No. I was to meet her at noon that day, but she never showed up. I’ve been looking for her ever since. That’s why . . . that’s why I followed you. I thought maybe she’d contacted you. And the little girl—how old is she?”
Jenny remembered Grant’s words earlier today about Aubrey. He could not possibly be her father. “She’s two and a half. According to Grant, Jessica lived here for more than a year and a half before giving birth to Rebecca.”
Troubled lines creased around the edges of his eyes. “How did she pass away?”
“Childbirth.” When he indeed looked grieved, she feared her own frail emotions. “I’m so sorry.”