The Blue Ribbon Brides Collection

by AlLee, Jennifer L. ; Breidenbach, Angela; Franklin, Darlene

  “It was a bit technical for me, but I enjoyed your beautiful speaking voice.”

  “Ah. Technical. That could dampen my tour for some.” He looked at Mrs. Fitch to add her opinion.

  She merely glanced away at the stack of copper bricks behind Lady Justice.

  “I’ll take that under advisement.”

  Janey fluttered her lashes, seeming to preen that he’d considered her thoughts a valuable commentary.

  Mrs. Fitch glanced between Janey and Luke, gave an almost imperceptible tilt of her head the direction Bettina had gone, and pressed her lips together. Then she raised her brows, signaling with her eyes down the aisle, as if to say, “I think you have somewhere to be, young man.”

  If she offered, albeit silently, he’d take her advice and go. “Pleased to see you again, Janey. Will you ladies excuse me?”

  He waved to one of the other men in the far corner to take over and heard Mrs. Fitch behind him.

  “He is a bit too slow for you, Janey dear. I have another fellow much more charming in mind.”

  Luke choked back a laugh as he headed out the south entrance, through grand doors that led to the lagoon in the center of the Court of Honor.

  “Bettina!” He couldn’t believe it. She stood in front of the colossal fountain depicting Columbus’s arrival in America. She turned at his call with red-rimmed eyes and tears streaking down her cheeks that could create a fountain of their own.

  Shame for the way he’d spoken to her doused any fire he’d felt at her words. Somehow they had to clear up the mess they’d made—and it started with humbling himself. He stood beside her, waiting for her to accept his presence.

  She turned back to the water trickling off the fountain’s oars and splashing below Columbus’s feet as he stood on the bow searching for the shore. Could they find dry ground?

  “Bettina, will you forgive me?” He said it softly without demand or expectation that she should.

  She looked up into his eyes, searched his soul for what seemed an eternity, and then offered her own apology. “I’ve made assumptions about you and judged you harshly without merit. The apology is mine to give, not yours. By meeting you, I came face-to-face for the first time with the kind of monster I blamed for my father’s death in a mine collapse.” She dropped her eyes to his chest. “I’m an orphan.”

  “But you speak of your parents as if they’re alive.”

  “I’m adopted. Adopted by the doctor … the doctor who couldn’t save my mother. But he could save me, as sick as I was with typhoid, too.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Just listen. When I heard you were rich, that made me angrier, because I assumed that you made money from the suffering of others. The monster in my mind I’d built up all these years finally had a face.”

  “But—”

  “I know.” She turned to face Columbus again as if she drew strength from the cascade of water, helping her pour out her story. “You weren’t a monster. The more I’ve watched you, the more I’ve discovered a man of kindness and integrity. A man who cares about others and serves without resentment. You brought water, food, and ran the smallest of errands for all of us”—she let out an ironic chuckle—“you made sure everyone else was taken care of first, before yourself. I couldn’t understand it or release that monstrous picture I’d built in my head even though my eyes could see.”

  He lifted a hand, palm up, and held his breath. Would she touch him?

  She placed her hand in his and a jolt rocketed through his body. They watched the light reflect on the splashing surface. The mist cooled the hot, still summer air around them. He released his breath slowly, evenly, so as not to disturb the moment, and listened to her heart.

  “After my father’s death, my mother had no choice but to move us into the city.” She jutted her chin toward town. “Chicago. She did everything she could to survive. Things she wouldn’t have had to if my father hadn’t died. Then typhoid struck and people started dying in the epidemic. First my little brother, he was four.” She swiped away a tear dangling from her chin. “Then my mother fell ill for weeks and still tried to take in laundry. Eventually she caught pneumonia. That finally took her. She hadn’t worked in so long, we had no food. I begged on the streets while she slept, tried to help wash clothes, and began to get ill as well. But a neighbor took pity and called for a doctor to look in on our family.”

  He tightened his hold on her hand, wishing he could carry this pain for her. Pain he’d had no idea he churned up like tailings from a mine poisoning the very ground it’d come from. That she could bear up under the weight of it made him admire her that much more for her strength. For the desire to change the circumstances of others like herself.

  “On my mother’s deathbed, she told me not to be afraid, that the doctor was here to help me. He wouldn’t leave me alone.” She smiled at the ground and then gave him a sidelong glance that said she understood as an adult now what her mother had tried to do for her. “I don’t know whether he felt pressured or some form of guilt, but that doctor agreed to take care of me. He promised my mother he wouldn’t leave me behind when she breathed her last.” Her mouth worked a moment, though no words came out. She took a deep breath. “Right there, in that hovel, she gave me into the safekeeping of the doctor. And then she was gone. I was eight. He kept that promise, even refusing the neighbor’s payment for his visit. He knew our neighbor was a very poor man.” She smiled, her tears drying. “He still says he got the better part of the deal in a daughter. My parents adopted me, educated me, and have never treated me with anything but the deepest of love. I’m so blessed. But there are so many others who have no one to rescue them from starvation, disease, and poverty. That’s why I’m so driven. Someone has to help the others.”

  She inspired him to want to do more, to help her live out the calling on her that seemed God ordained. If only he’d known sooner. “I’m so sorry my ignorance caused you further pain.”

  She shook her head, the tiny ribbons down her back fluttering as the breeze off the water picked them up and dropped them back down. “You’ve done nothing wrong. What I want to say is thank you. Thank you for helping me face my childhood demons and forgive people caught in circumstances beyond their control.” She blinked in the sunshine as she gazed up at him. “If you consider me unworthy of your—”

  Luke took her in his arms and held her close. “I consider you most precious.” Then he realized the liberty he had taken and released her. But he whispered into her ear as he pressed her hand to his heart, “The most precious of women.”

  Chapter 6

  July 7, 1893

  Bettina’s knees trembled faster than a lady’s fan flickered on a blistering day. She knew her talk was well received. She’d answered every discussion question from the audience with aplomb, according to her father. He’d said it with his chest puffed out while Mama beamed on his arm. Yet her heart rat-a-tatted like the drummer in the John Philip Sousa concert Luke had taken her to last week. Had she impressed Reverend Doctor Kelsey enough to win the position at Oberlin?

  First he shook hands with her father, congratulating him on raising a fine young scientist. Then he turned to her mother and praised her skills of turning out such a gracious child. Then, finally, he addressed Bettina.

  “Young lady, you have a quick mind and very thorough research methods. You’ve worked hard to create a possible plan to help the masses.”

  She brightened. He saw her vision, her—

  “But I see a flaw in your theory.”

  Her stomach hit her boots, and the blood in her body followed it. “A flaw?”

  “You focus too much on the overview to bring about results because of the intensity of your passion to save the poor right now. Would you consider coming at your research from a more practical angle?”

  Practical? Wasn’t that the entire basis of her theory? That it could be put to use for practical solutions? “Please, sir, where might I improve?”

  His
face relaxed into an inviting smile. “That’s exactly the question I wanted to hear. It shows me you’re open to criticism that will help you grow as a scientist and as you undertake this project long term.”

  “But the flaw?”

  “Your vision will give you the passion to keep working toward your goal. However …”

  Flaw. However. She hung on his words, leaning in to understand.

  “… I’d advise you to focus not en masse but on the exponential. Study the cause at its root, or we cannot repeat the result intentionally. Do you look over a field of wheat and say it grows because of the sun?” He pulled the boutonniere from his lapel. “If I dissect this flower and glean all I can from it, but I haven’t grown it and observed it in various situations, how can I say what I observed will be repeatable?” He replaced the button mum. “By starting with one, I can determine how and why it thrives best. Then, once I understand how it flourishes, I can expand to help it and others like it prosper. Understand the organism at its most elemental level and you’ll be able to build outward from there. Then, would you consider it wise to include observations from others? Consider those who work with the crops. What have they observed year after year? You have much work to do yet.”

  His wisdom opened her eyes to the flaw. She didn’t have enough information to guarantee success yet. “Yes, I understand. Thank you, sir.”

  “I came because your application stood out. Rarely do I see such high marks in overall laboratory work. I invite you to be part of my team because I see in you a person who desires to make the world a better place through your science, if you’ll temper your enthusiasm for immediacy and focus on causal research. Can you cap that passion and channel it into tedious work for the greater good?”

  “Yes, yes, sir!”

  “Good. Then we’ll see you this fall at Oberlin.”

  She hadn’t even remembered to give him the reference letter!

  “My darling girl, we couldn’t be more proud. But it’s for men to be so driven. Shouldn’t your education be enough?” Mama wanted grandchildren, specifically granddaughters. One surprise daughter hadn’t been enough with four boisterous sons. She hadn’t been part of Bettina’s early childhood to dress her and show her off. Two of those sons, Robert Jr. and Daniel, produced a passel of boys but not yet one girl. Of course, neither Bruce nor George would marry for another few years. “With what you know, your children will be well educated. Goodness, you’ll rule any garden club in the city. Change is made in the parlor, influencing people, not out in the fields. Imagine the lives you could influence.” Marion Gilbert swept her hands out as if gathering the grand downtown Chicago coffee house into her fold. Mama had a gift for gathering people to her and, once there, never letting them go. Her loyalty was renowned among those who knew her.

  “Mama, botanists might belong to garden clubs, but they don’t plant pretty flowers for the hobby of it.” She covered her mother’s hand on the table. “Don’t you understand, I want to feed thousands of children through my science, not a few from my stove?”

  Her mother slid back in her seat as if she’d been slapped. Tears glistened, though she blinked rapidly. “I suppose being a mother isn’t enough to contribute to society. I understand.”

  How had her passions insulted her mother so deeply? “Mama, that’s not what I meant. Motherhood is truly God inspired. But I’m not ready for that yet.”

  “You’re twenty-two. How long do you think you have to pass on those brilliant genetics, when you haven’t even married yet?”

  “I think what your mother means is—”

  “Robert, I know what I mean.” The tears gone, red spots on her cheeks flashed the signal a storm would let loose any second. Bettina’s adventure gene seemed a wild card to Mama.

  “What if I could influence farmers with my discoveries? What if each person I educate could affect the lives of hundreds or thousands? Can’t you see how that would make daily life better for all mothers?” Bettina bowed her head. “What if what I achieve could have helped a mother”—her voice thickened—“who died like mine? Couldn’t that be enough?”

  Ever the peacemaker, Papa stepped in. “Bettina, we understand how important it is to you to be involved in bettering society. We’ve never besmirched your beginnings, nor would we now. Your birth parents were hardworking, honorable people. It’s only natural you want to help those who weren’t as fortunate as yourself. Accept the position, if you wish—” He held up a hand to stay Mama’s objection. Then he looked at her as he finished. “At least it brings you home to Cleveland. We’ll talk more then about other future prospects.”

  “There are plenty of important volunteer opportunities for married women right in Cleveland.”

  Papa closed his eyes for a moment.

  “Mama—”

  “Bettina.” Her father’s raised eyebrows and stern tone stopped any further discussion. He snapped for the waiter. “The end of the summer, then we’ll talk in the privacy of our home.”

  The six-block walk wouldn’t have been too difficult, but the July temperatures already rose steadily into the nineties by midmorning on clear days. With not much of a breeze off the lake, Bettina would be a puddle of perspiration before starting her shift to relieve the ladies for luncheon. With the heat and Mama’s worry for her safety in the city, ensconced in safe transportation rather than alone on the streets might appease her overly protective sensibilities. Right now Bettina did not need to challenge her mother further. She would keep using public transportation as she’d agreed when they rented the city town house for the summer.

  Bettina boarded the World’s Fair omnibus, leaving her parents to a little Friday shopping. She chose the first empty seat toward the back door, hoping for a little draft of fresh air, and drew out her hand fan. Flicking her wrist, fanning away the scent of horse and human, the morning celebratory brunch with her parents had taken longer than she expected. They seemed bent on convincing her against going anywhere away from home. How could she help the children of Chicago or any other city if she never experienced the farms or understood the challenges of farmers outside the sprawl of buildings? Traveling the nearby countryside couldn’t be that outrageous as part of her position at Oberlin. Why couldn’t she have waited to share the details of the position until the summer ended?

  Bettina waved out the side window to her parents as the carriage moved away from the curb. “I’ll be home before dark or I’ll send word and be sure I have an escort.” She called the reassurance to Mama, who waved back until she was out of sight. Knowing Mama, the discussion with Papa had just begun. Bettina leaned her head against the wooden wall. Only nine and she was exhausted.

  The horses clipped along at a brisk pace toward the city-side entrance. A few blocks shy of their goal, one of the horses whinnied. The carriage lurched, sliding Bettina a few inches on her bench into the woman next to her. Another loud neighing at the sound of a crack and the carriage whipped forward as the nose crashed into the street. Bettina let out a screech, with the yells and screams of other passengers adding to the chaos, and then smacked headlong into the bench in front of her. As the horses’ high-pitched whinnies continued, the omnibus carriage wrenched forward, ripping. The back door flew wide as Bettina’s body slammed into it, then she tumbled over the steps, just missing the edges as they burst up toward her with the runaway draft team’s frantic thrust forward. She thudded to the street and rolled in a tangle of skirts, arms and legs flailing, as the brightly painted vehicle careened onto a corner, flopped onto its side, dragging for another twenty feet until someone caught the horses.

  As Bettina pushed herself up to see, a crowd ran to help her.

  “Where has she gone?” Luke wanted to congratulate her on a speech well done. To tell her Montana needed scientists like her. To tell her he needed her.

  “I believe her parents took her to a restaurant just outside the grounds to celebrate. I don’t think she could eat a bite beforehand. For an early morning event, that was a large au
dience. Can you imagine a young thing like that speaking to fifteen hundred people? Brilliant girl, just brilliant!” Mrs. Fitch gave Luke a sympathetic look. “They’d never have found seating inside at breakfast, you know. Those lines don’t seem to go down no matter what time of day or night.”

  Luke paced the pavilion floor in the Woman’s building. One thing Bettina was not—late. She had some sort of internal clockwork in her head he couldn’t explain. Worry gnawed in his gut the way mice worked a rope. He’d slipped away from the auditorium this morning so as not to disturb her discussion with Reverend Doctor Kelsey. Though he prayed for her as he left the building, he also prayed for God’s will. Luke hoped God’s will aligned more with his desire to marry Bettina than Bettina’s desire to work for the scientist. But he knew better than to superimpose his will over God’s. It didn’t hurt to let the Almighty know what he wanted though. And she’d planned to meet him at the booth.

  “I’m sure she was simply detained discussing her talk’s success with her parents,” Mrs. Fitch soothed. “She was quite dazzling.”

  “Yes, she was.” Quite, he brooded. “But I need to see her before I go. She doesn’t know.”

  “You haven’t told her yet?”

  “No, I didn’t want to cause her any stress before her presentation at the congress. She was as nervous as a puppy around fireworks this last week.”

  “Mm.” Mrs. Fitch hummed an agreement as she rearranged the seating, putting chairs back into the inviting arc she preferred. “When do you leave?”

  He picked up a chair and walked it over as she pointed out the spot to leave it. “In the morning. There just isn’t any choice left to me.”

  “No, I suppose there isn’t.” She put a hand on his arm. Mrs. Fitch’s eyes told the story of years. Years of watching men build the frontier by scratching in the ground to create civilization. “I’ve learned in my time that things have a way of coming around for the better.”