by Ann Shorey
“Allow me.” Brendan held the door open for her. Turning toward Mrs. Bledsoe, he said, “I’ll have her back shortly. Thank you for being so gracious.”
“Well . . . I’m not sure . . . this is irregular . . .” The matron wrung her hands.
Brendan sent her a wink. “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.” He closed the door in her flushed face.
Luellen strode ahead of him along the gravel path toward Allenwood Hall’s covered front steps. Brendan grabbed her arm. “Slow down.”
She shook him loose. “I’m not going to get soaked. You can tell me what you’re doing here as soon as we get out of the rain.” She covered the remaining distance at a trot and turned to face him when she reached the top of the stairs. “Talk. How did you find me?”
“’Twasn’t that hard. You mooned over that Allenwood letter every time you thought I wasn’t looking. So I had to read it, didn’t I? And here you are, sure.”
“What do you want?”
He stood close enough for her to see drops of moisture beading on his chestnut curls. “You caused me a great deal of grief, sending that sheriff after me with a subpoena.” His blue eyes shot fury. “I had to talk fast to keep my father-in-law from booting me out of the house.”
“I caused you trouble? What do you think you’ve done to me?” She started to throw the fact of her pregnancy in his face, but stopped short. No. He’d have no part of this baby.
Brendan stepped closer, pinning Luellen against the wall by resting one hand on the bricks behind her. His breath smelled of ale. “Looks like I did you a favor. Now you can do one for me.”
“Why would I—”
“Just stay away from me and my life. No subpoenas, no lawyers. I’m done with you, Luellen.”
She pushed him away. “You should’ve read that subpoena instead of trying to lie your way out of it. You wasted a trip. We’re divorced. I never want to see you again.”
“Miss McGarvie?” Mr. Price stood next to the open door, staring between her and Brendan.
She clapped a hand over her lips. How much had he heard?
“Are you all right?” He moved to her side. “Is this gentleman bothering you?”
Brendan faced him. “I was just leaving, laddie.” The corner of his mouth twisted in a sneer. “Miss McGarvie and me are done with our conversation.”
Luellen watched him stride away, her heart pounding in her throat. Thank goodness he lived in Chicago. They’d never cross paths again.
Mr. Price lifted an umbrella from a wooden stand near the door and fumbled it open. “I was just going to deliver a message to the Lecture Hall. May I escort you to your next class?”
She bit the inside of her lip. “Yes, please. I would appreciate an escort.”
November arrived, and with it the looming date for examinations. With a zoology textbook open, Luellen sorted a list of animals into their proper classifications. Horses, snakes, frogs, falcons—each had to be placed under their correct heading. If the test were timed, she’d need her placement to be automatic. She rested her head on one hand and turned to another list. Her eyes hurt, and so did her back.
Tap, tap, tap. Tap tap. Belle pushed the door open. “Brought you some shortbread. My mother sent a box of treats.” Her face lacked its usual bright smile.
Luellen leaned back in her chair. “You’re heaven sent. I’ve been looking for an excuse to stop studying.”
“No better reason than enjoying some of my mother’s baking. I hope someday to be half the cook she is.”
“Our mothers spend more time cooking than we do.” Luellen took a shortbread square and bit into it. Buttery softness spread over her tongue. “Delicious.” She pushed the tin toward Belle. “Join me.”
Belle heaved a deep sigh. “Not right now.” She flopped on Luellen’s bed. “Mother sent a letter with the sweets. Things are not going well for my father’s bank. They’ll be traveling to New York at the end of the month to meet with investors.”
“The end of the month? But that’s when winter vacation begins.” Luellen stood, careful to keep her shawl draped over her midsection. “You won’t be at home by yourself, will you?”
“I won’t be home at all—at least not until they return. My father has made arrangements for me to stay here until mid-December.” Her eyes shone with unshed tears. “I’m trying to be brave, but . . . oh, Luellen, I’m so disappointed! I know we don’t have to be back until February, but I’ll miss nearly a month at home.” She put her hands over her face and sobbed. “Can you imagine what it’ll be like? Just me and Mrs. Bledsoe?”
Luellen sat next to Belle and hugged her. She’d never seen her sunny friend so upset. “I don’t blame you for crying. The thought of spending a month in Mrs. Bledsoe’s company would send me into hysterics.”
Belle sniffled. “Maybe I could ask my father to allow me to stay at Mrs. Hawks’s boardinghouse. She’s a dear soul.”
“Let me pray about this. Maybe there’s something we can do.” An idea glimmered at the back of Luellen’s mind. She handed Belle a clean handkerchief.
“I’m open to suggestions.” She glanced at the textbook and papers on the table. “You go on with your studies. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Instead of returning to her zoology lists after her friend left, Luellen closed the book and stared out at the black night. Her thoughtful face reflected back at her in the glass. She took a blank sheet of paper and scribbled a hasty note to her parents. If it went into the post tomorrow, perhaps they’d receive it before winter vacation.
Luellen rolled her shoulders to loosen tight muscles. Mrs. Hale, the proctor, looked up from her desk at the front of the examination room. “Are you finished, Miss McGarvie?”
“No. Just taking a breath. How much more time do I have?”
Mrs. Hale checked a pocket watch lying open on the desktop. “Half an hour.”
Closing her eyes, Luellen tried to picture the structure of a flower from the botany textbook. Which was the stigma, and which was the anther? After two hours of answering questions and illustrating her responses, her mind felt drained of knowledge. She turned the page. Almost finished. She dipped her pen and filled in the last answers, closing the examination booklet just as the supper bell rang.
“Time.” Mrs. Hale collected the booklet. “If you wish, you may stop by Dr. Alexander’s office in the morning for the results. I’m sure you’d like to know how you fared before leaving for winter vacation.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Hale. I appreciate it.” Luellen knew the woman’s offer meant she’d be spending her evening grading the answers. She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “It’s kind of you to do this for me.”
“Dr. Alexander specifically requested that I give him the results as soon as possible.” Her eyes appraised Luellen. “He’s taken quite an interest in you, it seems.”
Luellen couldn’t stop the guilty flush that rose to her cheeks. What would he think if he knew she was a divorced woman, and pregnant to boot? He mustn’t find out.
She hurried from the room and dashed through a light rainfall that misted the campus. Belle greeted her when she entered the Ladies Hall. “Well? How was the examination?”
“I had answers to the questions. Tomorrow I’ll learn whether they were the right ones.” Luellen shook raindrops from her cloak and hung it on a peg. “What are we being served tonight?”
Belle sniffed the air. “Something disgusting involving cabbage, I’d say.” She linked her arm through Luellen’s. “Let’s go get it over with.”
The following morning Luellen dressed carefully. Her blue shawl with the long fringe contrasted well with her yellow calico dress. By cinching her corset as tight as possible, her rounded abdomen wasn’t apparent. Mentally, she apologized to her baby for squeezing him or her. As soon as she got home, she’d sew another dress or two designed to conceal her figure. Could she make the new clothes without telling her mother why she needed them?
After dropping her cloak over her shoulders
, she left the room. She’d worry about her mother later—now examination results were paramount in her thoughts.
Last night’s rain and subsequent freeze had left the gravel walk icy. As Luellen picked her way toward Allenwood Hall, she observed the deserted campus. Most of the students had left for vacation as soon as their last classes ended. She wondered whether Mr. Price would be on duty.
When she entered the anteroom outside Dr. Alexander’s office, Mr. Price’s desk was cleaned off. Apparently he too was at home with family. Too bad. His flattering attention would have boosted her flagging confidence. What if she’d failed the examination? She shook her head to rid herself of the thought, knocking on the registrar’s door with a shaky hand.
“Come in.” Dr. Alexander’s face broke into a smile when he saw Luellen. “I have good news for you, Miss McGarvie.” He held up the booklet. “You breezed through these questions with scarcely an incorrect answer. I commend your diligence.” He leaned back in his chair, fingers laced over his midsection. “Rarely have we had a student with such promise. You may register for the next term with no reservations whatsoever.”
“Thank you. That’s welcome news.”
Relief flooded through her—one hurdle crossed. But two higher ones waited. By February, how much would her pregnancy show? And would she be able to earn enough over the break to return at all?
11
Luellen rubbed condensation off the window and peered out as the train rolled in to the Beldon Grove depot. “There they are,” she said to Belle. She pointed across the platform at two figures sheltering under the building’s overhang. Papa had his arm around her mother’s shoulders.
She jumped to her feet. “I didn’t realize how much I missed them until now.”
A shadow crossed Belle’s face. “I miss my parents too. I so appreciate your invitation to spend the month with you.”
“It’s selfish on my part. I’ll be lonesome when you go back to Springfield.”
Mama enfolded her in a hug when she stepped onto the platform. “It’s wonderful to have you home. I’ve been lonely with all my children gone.” She turned to Belle. “This must be Liberty Belle Brownlee.”
“Just ‘Belle,’ please.” She took Mama’s outstretched hand. “I’m grateful for your hospitality. My parents send their thanks, as well.”
A cutting wind tore along the tracks. Papa greeted both girls and directed the baggage handler toward their buggy. The women followed him, cloaks pulled tight against the late November weather.
Luellen felt a tingle of apprehension as the buggy rolled down Adams Street toward her family’s home. How long would she be able to keep her secret? Might it be better to tell Mama and Papa and be done with deception? Belle’s presence allowed her conscience the excuse she needed to conceal her pregnancy. Her condition was a family matter, not one for outsiders.
Papa stopped at the hitching post in front of the picket fence. The climbing roses that covered the fence during the summer had faded to orange seed pods. Between their house and Papa’s office the silver maple stood bare before the weather, its leaves scattered by prairie winds. To everything there is a season, Luellen thought. The coming years were her season for school, and nothing would stop her.
She noticed light spilling from the sitting room windows. Her parents would never go off and leave a lamp burning. “Is someone here?”
The door swung open, and Aunt Ellie ran onto the veranda. “Welcome home!”
Uncle Matthew stepped around her and strode toward the buggy. He held out his arms to Luellen. “Come here and give your old uncle a hug.” Wind ruffled his hair and beard.
“What a wonderful surprise.” She embraced him, turning when Belle descended. “This is my dear friend, Belle Brownlee. Belle, my uncle, Matthew Craig.”
“Miss Brownlee. Luellen mentions you in all of her letters.”
“I’m surprised she has time to write letters at all. She’s a dreadful bookworm.”
Luellen made a face at Belle. “It was worth it, wasn’t it? I’m on equal footing with you for next term.”
“Come in,” Aunt Ellie called. “You’ll all catch your death standing out there in the cold.”
Luellen hurried up the steps. Bending slightly, she kissed her aunt on the cheek. After introducing Belle, she looked over Aunt Ellie’s shoulder into the entry hall. “Where are Sarah and Robert?”
“In the kitchen, I expect. Your mama made a pan of her wonderful shortbread. They’re probably sneaking bites.”
Mama entered the house, Uncle Matthew’s arm around her shoulders. “My husband is putting up the team. He’ll be here in a moment,” she told Belle.
The commotion stirred up by her arrival warmed Luellen. How dear everyone was. She looked around at her home—fire burning in the sitting room grate, long dining table lined with chairs—and heaved a sigh of contentment. The faint aroma of caraway drifted from the kitchen. She took Belle’s hand. “Let’s go sample the shortbread before my cousins eat it all.”
Later, as the family sat around the table after supper, Luellen listened to Aunt Ellie go on about her grandchildren, Maria’s and Graciana’s babies. “Quincy’s so far away. I’ve only seen them once,” she said. “But they are the prettiest girls you ever saw.” She looked at Uncle Matthew. “Next to ours, of course.”
He kissed his fingertips and rested them against her cheek. “With such a lovely grandmother, how could they miss?”
“Grandchildren and children at the same time. God has surely blessed us.” Aunt Ellie sent a soft smile toward ten-year-old Sarah and her younger brother, Robert. They both looked bored at the grown-up conversation swirling around the table.
Mama sighed. “Lily’s our only hope right now, and so far, no news.”
Luellen looked at her hands. She’d never considered the possibility that her mother might long for a grandchild. When she glanced up, she caught Papa studying her.
Toward the end of Belle’s visit, Luellen sat at the table after breakfast, paging through her mother’s copies of Godey’s Lady’s Book. Her gaze stopped on a picture of a traveling sacque worn over a wide skirt. With the jacket, the silhouette was one of a continuous bell shape from shoulders to hem.
Her mother walked past and paused to look over her shoulder. “There will be time to sew a winter outfit while you’re home. Fitted bodices are the fashion right now.” She chuckled and patted her rounded figure. “I can’t wear them, but you girls can—isn’t that right, Belle?”
Belle lifted her head from another issue of the magazine. “Indeed we can, Mrs. Spengler. There’s a gown here that’s caught my eye.” She slid the book across the table, pointing at an illustration of a narrow-waisted dress with a wide skirt and ruffled bodice and undersleeves.
Luellen raised an eyebrow. “You’d need to wear hoops.”
“You’re right.” She turned the page.
Mama slipped into a chair next to Luellen. “Let’s decide on a style you like. After Christmas, you’ll be home for another month and a half. Plenty of time to sew a dress or two.”
Luellen’s wardrobe needed refreshing, but not for the reasons Mama assumed. The yellow calico she wore with a shawl or covered by an apron was the only comfortable dress she had left. She’d need another outfit and a change before she returned to Allenwood. The difficulty lay in choosing styles that would conceal her figure without announcing her condition.
She removed her glasses and polished the lenses with a corner of her skirt. “I do need something warmer for winter.”
“Wonderful. Mr. Wolcott recently enlarged his store and made space just for cloth and notions.” Mama glanced at Belle. “We can all visit the mercantile together.”
“Excellent idea. I’ll buy a Christmas gift for my family while I’m there.”
“We’ll go this afternoon.”
The back door banged shut. Papa appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Lulie, would you be able to spare me some time? I’d like your help in my office.”
What could be so important that Papa needed her right now? Why not ask Mama?
She looked at Belle. “Would you excuse me for a bit?” Her voice held an apology.
“Of course.” Belle stood, turning to Mama. “I noticed you have a copy of Sir Walter Scott’s The Betrothed on the shelf in the sitting room. May I borrow it to read?”
Mama’s face flushed.
Papa grinned. “That’s one of her special favorites. I’m sure she’d be happy to share it with you.”
“Karl, stop it.” Her eyes twinkled. “You’re such a tease.”
Luellen remembered the day she and her brother James had brought the book home to their mother, a gift from Mr. Pitt. She wondered if that might have been the day Papa decided to step up his courtship a notch. In any case, she’d always been thankful that it was he, and not Jared Pitt, who’d won her mother’s heart.
Papa cleared his throat, bringing her back to the present. She jumped to her feet, careful to keep her shawl crossed in front of her. “What do you want help with?”
He rested a hand on her shoulder, guiding her from the room. “Just a few things. We shouldn’t be long.”
Once inside his office, Papa slid a chair away from the wall and held it for her. Then he seated himself on the edge of the examination table. In the wintery light coming through the window, he appeared old and tired.
She looked around the room, but couldn’t see any undone tasks. As always, the odor of medicines tickled her nostrils. Maybe he wanted her to wash out the bottles he used when he filled his bag to make house calls. She opened her mouth to ask again what he needed, when he straightened his shoulders and rested his hands on his knees.
“Do you have something to tell me, Luellen?”
A wave of heat washed over her. She should have known she couldn’t hide her condition from him. She looked down, rubbing at a spot on her apron. In a tiny voice, she asked, “How did you know?”
He slid off the table and tucked his thumb under her chin. His eyes met hers. “Your face is fuller and so is your body, in spite of the way you keep yourself wrapped in that shawl.” Papa drew her to his chest and stroked her hair. “How long did you think you could keep it from us?”