TRAVELED
HEARTS
Veronica Mahara
Copyright 2019 by Veronica Mahara
Cover Design by Jane Dixon-Smith
Internal Design by Jane Dixon-Smith
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places,
and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Published by Traveled Heart Press
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems without the written consent of the author.
ISBN 9781732371217
Dedicated to my mother, Jean
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Chapter Forty-three
Chapter Forty-four
Chapter Forty-five
Chapter Forty-six
Chapter Forty-seven
Chapter Forty-eight
Chapter Forty-nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-one
Chapter Fifty-two
Chapter Fifty-three
Chapter Fifty-four
Chapter Fifty-five
Chapter Fifty-six
Chapter Fifty-seven
Chapter Fifty-eight
Chapter Fifty-nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-one
Acknowledgments
Part One
Chapter One
Hartford, Connecticut—May 1885
A warm spring had come to Hartford after a bitter cold and snowy winter. The air in her parents’ second-floor room was thick and slightly muggy. Waving a paper over her face, Jessica lie on the tufted chaise under the bay of open windows overlooking the well-appointed grounds of the small estate. It was too late to make another argument for her cause, yet she couldn’t help state her sorrow. “Megan and Sarah have both been to Europe. Everyone’s had a chance but me.”
Her mother, Bethany, sighed as she folded another of her father’s shirts. “How many times do we have to tell you your father will have no time to entertain you? He’s there strictly on business.”
Perching on an elbow, Jessica couldn’t help herself. “But I’d be happy to entertain myself with the art museums. Father said Liverpool is a marvelous city. The land and seascapes alone would keep me engaged. Professor Fields said it would greatly advance my education.”
Her professor had been a student at the Hudson River School where landscape artists rendered ethereal paintings of the world around them. Although she appreciated the work of these men, what truly inspired her were the paintings done by female artists such as Cecilia Beaux and Rosa Bonheur. Jessica would get lost in Bonheur’s realistic paintings of sleeping sheep and muscular horses and Beaux’s captivating portraits. She yearned to express herself in such a way.
“Your professor has too much to say about what you should be doing. It’s time you settle into a good marriage and direct your attentions to a home, children, and your place in society.”
Puffing out a breath of air, she peered out the window at the street beyond the expansive lawn. “I haven’t the slightest interest in any of it.” Through the manicured hedge that lined the inside of the tall, black iron fence, she caught glimpses of people walking by. They seemed to be going nowhere important. “Someday I’ll be famous, and I won’t need to be married.”
Entering the room, her father was quick to respond. “That’s quite enough of that kind of talk.”
“Father, Professor Fields says that a beautiful rendition of the outdoors can inspire us to appreciate and preserve our lands. He says my landscapes create such a feeling.”
Her mother hung another pair of trousers in her husband’s stand-up trunk. “There’s plenty of land to paint around here.”
Leaning back, Jessica muttered, “It would only take me minutes to pack my own cases.” The arranged luggage stood ready for the invitation to sail to Liverpool, England. She looked forlornly at her father, but he did not return her gaze as he inspected his trunks. Having an attorney for a father, she knew the time had come to accept the verdict. Frustration engulfed her. It had come to that point. Giving a slight huff, she returned to the window. Someday I will travel to far-off places.
The scent of new blossoms and clipped grass floated into the room, past the yellow, brocade curtains, reminding Jessica of last year at this time. Her high school diploma had lain neatly on her lap, its leather-bound contents acknowledging her graduation from an all-girls school in Hartford, Connecticut. It was a heady experience, and she was ready to explore a world of opportunity. If only her parents understood her true desires. The small college she was allowed to attend and the few hours a week she spent working at Mr. Cromwell’s gallery, were hardly the exploration of the world she had in mind. Her first choice, The Pennsylvania School of Art, was met with a quick dismissal by her father as a place for bohemians, not for a daughter from good society.
As usual, Jessica’s thoughts found their way to Jacob, the adopted son of her aunt June and uncle Burt. He had come into the family as an infant and they were considered cousins, yet there was something between them she could not explain. Thinking back to the way he had looked at her as she left the graduation stage warmed her heart. He’d seemed impressed. The smile he showed her was one she would like to have tucked into her diploma to keep forever. Waving the fan more vigorously to relieve the heat blooming in her neck and chest, her emotions rocked like a boat on the ocean. Their last horseback ride together was too brief, and she hadn’t seen him in over a week.
“Now, where is it?” Her father’s agitation interrupted Jessica’s daydream. It was just as well, for even thinking of Jacob in front of her parents felt risky. He searched impatiently, pushing aside the clothes on the bed.
“What is it, Thomas?”
“My best tie, the one I had planned to wear on my first dinner with the Moores. It seems to have disappeared.” He flung his hand up in disgust.
“I’ll help you look, Father.” When Jessica stood, the white satin tie fell from the back of her dress and onto the floor. Retrieving the wrinkled strip of material from the thick carpet, her mother gave a cluck of annoyance.
“Oh, now that’s a fine t
hing.” Thomas went back to sorting his clothes.
Jessica turned to peer at the back of her full, blue-plaid skirt. “Oh, Father, I’m sorry! I’ll have Winnie press it for you right away!”
Her mother handed her the tie. “As if Winnie hasn’t enough to do.”
Jessica left the room just as her brother Will was about to enter. She stopped short, then continued past him. Noticing his untidy clothes and his hand to his head as if to hold back a headache, she rolled her eyes and rushed downstairs.
“Winnie!” Once on the main floor, she arched her back and took a peek through the stair rails. Her brother’s tall body leaned in the doorway without entering the room. This was not a good sign. Continuing with her errand, she entered the laundry room. From above she heard the rumbles of an argument. “Oh, no.”
Winnie came in from the backyard with a basketful of linens, freshly picked from the clothesline. She stared at her young mistress, then looked up to the ceiling where muffled shouts filtered down. She set the basket down. “What you got there in your hand?”
Once Winnie had made quick work of ironing the tie, Jessica was off. Returning to the kitchen, she was surprised to see her mother at the sink, washing a dish. “What are you doing, Mother? Winnie will get that.”
“Please stay downstairs for a while.” Her mother’s reserved tone was not unfamiliar. The arguments between her brother and father had become routine.
Without warning a voice boomed from above, breaking the uneasy silence. “How am I supposed to have confidence in you when I’m away? This damn habit of yours has got to stop!”
Jessica rested against the counter, her arm extended with the white piece of material hanging over it. “What’s going to happen to Will?”
“Never mind!” The water in the sink spattered.
“How will he overcome his gambling problem?”
“Jessica!” Her mother’s sharp whisper made Jessica’s arm jerk. “How would you know of such things? I do not want you repeating any of this! Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mother. Is he in trouble?” As much as she was concerned about her brother, her thoughts were more on Jacob. He and Will were inseparable.
“No. This does not concern you. Now that’s enough talk. Go find something to do.”
Relenting, Jessica pushed herself from the sideboard and placed the tie over a chair. She was too old not to worry about her brother’s behavior and too young to have any say in the matter. “I’m sorry.” Uneasy, she sat in the parlor wishing she could gather her pencils and paper from her bedroom upstairs, but she had no desire to hear the argument at close range.
Drawing and painting always relaxed her, taking her away from her present life of duty and obedience. Often, she would have to be called several times to dinner before she became aware of the room around her, and then was scolded by her mother for coming to the table with paint-stained fingers. It wasn’t something she could help. If given her way, she would do nothing else but create art. Reminded almost daily that young women her age were married or engaged, Jessica felt burdened by the prospect. She didn’t lack for suitors, and each one had presented himself in a likeable manner, but she had no feelings for any of them. Her heart was full and had no room for Holland James, or Carl Whitman, or God forbid, the Fletchers’ skinny and pale son, Andrew.
What a conundrum you have here, Jess. From the green upholstered settee, her soft brown eyes raised to the chandelier, which vibrated with slight tings as the rumblings above continued. She decided to visit her aunt June. Perhaps Jacob would be there. He’d likely be off work by now and surely change her mood.
“Mother, I’m going to Auntie’s,” she called out from the foyer. Her mother’s swishing skirt could be heard before she was seen. Jessica waited.
“Now remember, not a word of this. I don’t need your aunt’s opinion on the matter. And arrange your hair before you leave the house.”
Retrieving a large hairpin from her skirt pocket, she swept up her dark, silky locks into a loose chignon. When she stepped outside, the cool late afternoon air penetrated her day dress and she returned inside for her blue waistcoat. As she took her coat off the hook in the vestibule, Will breezed past her without a word.
“Are you coming home for dinner?” With a mere raise of his hand, he headed down the wide gravel path that led to the iron gate and onto the road. She shook her head.
Jessica walked to her aunt’s, feeling the familiar flutters in her stomach. She passed the Fletchers’ home and noticed beyond their low fence the buds and blooms of so many daffodils and irises, clumps of them circling each oak tree, heralding spring and the fullness of summer that would soon follow. Her heart felt in the same state of bloom. Something wonderful seemed about to happen, but it was not as certain as the seasons. It was a game playing out in her mind—a sort of hide-and-seek.
“Hello!” Jessica sang out as she entered the back door. The front of the Stanford estate was reserved for guests. Family came in the back way. Though still formal with a bright, tidy foyer, it was far less grand than the front of the house with its large white pillars and expansive veranda.
A plump, redheaded woman with bright green eyes came out of the kitchen wiping her hands with a small tea towel. “Jessica! What a nice surprise. Oh, tell your mother I have a new recipe she must copy in her beautiful handwriting so we can present it at the Ladies’ Recipe Exchange.”
Greeting her with a kiss on a rosy cheek, Jessica smelled the delicious aroma of fresh baked ginger cookies. With her hair tucked under a flowered kerchief and a matching apron tied around her thick waist, her aunt June resembled the hired help more than the wife of a successful attorney. Jessica visited June often, if only to have a sympathetic ear or a break from her social duties. Today, however, she had come to see Jacob. Her secret weighed more heavily with each visit. She put her guilt aside, next to her growing feelings for her aunt’s son.
“Is Jacob here, Auntie?” She glanced into the parlor and nonchalantly swept a loose strand of hair from her cheek.
“No, he’s off doing something, don’t ask me what.” June waved her hand in the air. “What do you want with him? Come sit at the kitchen table with me.”
Jessica took a seat, trying to control her flushed cheeks. The small kitchen table was so familiar to her. The yellow printed tablecloth and white porcelain napkin holder gave a simplicity to the space she cherished.
“I’ll make us a pot of tea and we can talk. The oatmeal cookies are cooling. I’ll fix up a plate.” Her aunt scurried around her kitchen with such delight Jessica had to smile though she was disappointed at not seeing Jacob. “Let me tell you all about my new recipe. It’s certain to be the envy of all the women at the club. But before that, tell me, how is your father’s packing coming along?”
“Fine.” Jessica pursed her lips and tilted her head. “I was feeling underfoot, to be honest.”
“This has taken such a toll on your poor mother. She’ll be happy to have him off on his trip and even happier when he returns. I don’t know why they haven’t hired someone to do all that packing. Oh, I can’t imagine being without your uncle Burt for an entire month. And now my poor husband has to take on the whole responsibility of the law firm. My goodness.”
“I’m sure he’ll be fine, Auntie. He does have help.”
“Yes, you’re sweet to point that out my dear.” June chatted on and Jessica drifted, hoping Jacob would come home. As she served tea, June recited her recipe step-by-step. Jessica patiently listened, but when it grew close to her dinnertime, she said her goodbyes. She had lost all hope of seeing Jacob today, a day full of disappointment. Stepping into the back foyer, she stopped short. There he was, his tall body against the frame of the door, his back to her. He was bending down to remove his riding boots. A flash of nerves punched her stomach.
Chapter Two
“Hello.” The word came out through the thunderous pounding in her chest.
Rising, Jacob turned to her, his hair disheveled,
his eyes bright. “Hello, Jess.” He bent down to remove the other boot. “I should have taken these off in the stables, but I couldn’t find my walking shoes.”
A timid laugh escaped her. “Yes, it wouldn’t be very comfortable to be in the stables barefooted.” She wished for something wittier to say.
Dropping his boots on the outside porch, he stood his full height in front of her.
“I … I was just visiting your mother. She has … um … has a recipe for my mother.”
He smiled down at her. “How have you been, Jess? We haven’t been riding in over a week.”
“Oh, has it been that long? Well, you know how busy one can get with all the social events of spring and all that.” What was she saying? Why was she being so formal?
“Yes, I suppose.”
His furrowed brow added to her nerves. She had to get ahold of herself. “How was your ride?”
“Good. Teddy Barker is a better rider and wants to prove it every time we go out.”
A tide of indignation rose in her, but before she could denounce Teddy he touched her arm. “You were just leaving. I won’t keep you. Have a good evening, Jess.”
Her stomach churned as she returned his pleasantries, then all too soon she was out the door, heading home. Her feet felt inches off the ground. A light breeze played with her hair, and she tucked a strand behind her ear with a slight shaking in her hand. Once she and Jacob were with each other for more than a few minutes, she would become more composed. These brief encounters sent her blood racing through her body.
As she turned the corner, the sight of her family’s three-story home peeking through the maple trees calmed her spirit. The amber light in the windows glowed in welcome. Her bedroom, her retreat, faced the front yard just above the long, white painted veranda and when she wasn’t writing her thank you notes and RSVPs, she would daydream from her cozy seat tucked into the window or sketch the scenery of the two-acre estate. It all looked especially inviting with the birds singing their end-of-day songs in the sun-dappled trees.
Traveled Hearts (First In Series Book 1) Page 1