by Cathy Marie Hake, Lynn A. Coleman, Mary Davis, Susan Page Davis
“I’m your friend, too.”
“I hope you don’t think me a terrible person because I didn’t love Randolph.”
He couldn’t tell her he felt a measure of relief knowing her heart wasn’t broken. “I could never think you terrible. Speaking of Randolph, you know the young man I told you about from his ship?”
“The one you rescued, hired, and is now living above your store?” She gave him a genuine smile.
That’s right, he’d told her … more than once. He needed more sleep so he could think more clearly. “I found this in the back of the ship’s log.” He pulled the envelope from his jacket pocket and handed it to her.
She seemed to pale slightly. “Thank you.” She took it over to the writing desk and set it there.
“Aren’t you going to read it?”
“I’ll read it later.” She put on a smile.
Of course, in private. She wouldn’t want to read it in front of him even if he wanted her to read it aloud so he would know what it said and could see her reaction.
Maggie came in announcing supper was ready and breaking the tension that had shot between them.
He seated Vivian at the far end of the table, and took the seat across from her, leaving Randolph’s seat on the end empty … between them, a reminder of who they each were and who they were to each other. He said grace, and they ate in silence for a while.
“Conner, I have made acquaintance with a widow in need. If I send her to your store, will you reduce the price on the food and other items she needs?” Then she added quickly, “I’ll pay the difference.”
When had she had an opportunity to meet someone? “No need. Give me her name, and I’ll sell her whatever she needs at my cost.” There it was again. In her time of loss, Vivian was thinking of others.
“So where did you meet this widow?” He took a bite of his roast meat, hoping the action would make his question seem more casual.
“Maggie found her, and I commissioned this dress. She’s a wonderful seamstress. Her name is Abigail Parker.”
So Maggie had met this woman. It would still be only a matter of time before Vivian met others or renewed old acquaintances. Some possible suitors. In a town comprised of so many unmarried men, she would have her pick of several eligible bachelors. He needed to make sure he was always close at hand to size up his competition. He needed to make sure Vivian continued to look to him for support.
The next day, Sunday, Conner escorted Vivian to church. She hadn’t been in nearly a month since hearing about Randolph’s death. It was time to return, though she both longed for the fellowship and dreaded the false well-wishers. It was customary for society folks to leave their cards at the house of a family in mourning to let them know they were thinking of them. When she was up to receiving visitors, she only had to send word and the visitors would flood in … out of proper etiquette and not real concern. She wasn’t up for their false niceties. She could put them off for at least six months. They would probably prefer it.
Conner had dinner with her and spent the afternoon. She was grateful for his company. He alone knew she hadn’t been in love with Randolph and seemed to accept it well. She didn’t have to pretend grieving more deeply than she felt. And she didn’t have to feign politeness.
Conner stayed for supper, as well, and retired in the parlor afterward with her. He seemed hesitant to leave. She wasn’t eager for him to leave, either. She was sure he had better things to do than look after her all day, his only day of rest. He worked too hard and looked tired.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you something. Actually, it’s more of a curiosity. Randolph’s letter to you—I’m not asking to read it, but I was wondering if it was a comfort to you.”
“Oh that.” She would like to say she’d forgotten about it, but the truth was she was avoiding it. “Um, I haven’t read it yet.”
He pointed toward the writing desk. “You set it aside. I’m not surprised you forgot about it.”
Did he really believe a wife, even one not in love with her husband, could forget about such a letter? It haunted her. A voice from the grave calling to her. Condemning her.
“Would you like me to leave now so you can read it?”
“That’s not necessary.” She didn’t want him to leave. This big house was lonely. She wasn’t ready to step back into society. The only people she really felt comfortable with were Maggie, Scotty, her new friend Abigail, and, of course, Conner.
Conner left at the stroke of nine as was his habit. She stared at the letter on the writing desk, wanting to pass it by and continue ignoring it. She wasn’t anxious to find out what Randolph’s last words were to her, but she knew that Conner would ask her again. She couldn’t feign forgetfulness again. She took the letter, went up to her room, and turned it over in her hands. What do you have to say to me, Randolph?
A knock on her door startled her. She shoved the letter under her pillow. “Come in.”
Maggie entered. “I came to help you out of your dress.”
She smiled. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. Thank you for everything you do around the house and for me.”
“It’s my job,” Maggie said matter-of-factly as she unhooked the back of Vivian’s bodice.
“It’s more than that. When William and Sarah get here, I’ll highly recommend that they keep you on.”
“You won’t be staying in the house?”
She inhaled deeply so Maggie could unhook her corset. When she was freed, she could speak. “Captain Carlyle left the house to his brother.”
“What about you? Where will you to live?” Maggie sucked in a deep breath. “I’m sorry. That’s not my place.”
“Randolph left me some money.” She stepped out of the skirt and handed it to Maggie. “I’ll be fine.”
Maggie hung the dress in the closet. “This is a beautiful dress Widow Parker made.”
“She does very fine work.”
“Would you like me to turn down the bed?”
“No,” she said too sharply, then schooled herself. “You’ve done enough. Go off to bed yourself.” She didn’t want Maggie to find the letter from Randolph.
Maggie nodded and opened the door. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Good night, Maggie.”
Maggie closed the door behind her.
Vivian slipped off her undergarments and into her nightgown and dressing robe. She took the letter from beneath her pillow and sat on the red velvet fainting couch. Her hands shook, and she was suddenly cold. Determined to get this over with, she broke Randolph’s blue wax seal.
Vivian,
I am a man torn in two. I long to be with you and hold you, but when I think of what you have done, what you were, I can’t stand the thought of you. I have tried to tell myself you are not that other person, but I can only see you in the arms of other men. My mother was a harlot as you were. I could see no excuse then for her to do that, and I can see no excuse now why you should have done it.
I cannot reconcile this. You are not the woman I thought I was marrying. I can’t live with you, but I fear that neither can I live without you. I have tried to come to terms with it, but I’m struggling. You have given me a weight that is too much for me to bear. What you told me broke me.
I will divorce you quietly and give you passage to anywhere. I will also provide you with a small stipend as long as you don’t return to your former life.
R
Vivian set the letter down and let the tears well in her eyes. Had Randolph stayed on his ship knowing it would likely sink because her secret had been too much for him to bear? She shook her head. He was a good man and a good captain. He would never abandon his ship, just as he wouldn’t completely abandon her even though he couldn’t forgive her.
She felt the weight of her secret lift from her. Randolph had released her, and she could tell Conner that Randolph’s letter had brought her comfort, a sad sort of comfort. She could finally put her past behind her and remember it no more.
Or at least try.
Chapter 11
On Monday, Conner took Randolph’s ledger over to Carlyle Shipping. Jonathan Kirkide once again showed him to Mr. Abernathy’s office.
Mr. Abernathy stood when he entered. “Back so soon?”
“I just received some things from Captain Carlyle’s ship. I wanted to compare this to the ones here.” He held up the ledger. “Will Miss Demarco mind me interrupting her?”
“She’s out sick today. Go right on in.” Mr. Abernathy opened the adjoining door for him. “I have to go out. I’ll be back later this afternoon if you need anything.”
Conner sat at Miss Demarco’s desk and found the most recent ledger. He tried to match up entries. After a half hour, he wasn’t so sure that Randolph’s ship ledger was a record of the shipping business. He needed to get back to his store, so he took both ledgers. Mr. Abernathy wasn’t back yet. He stopped at Jonathan Kirkide’s desk on his way out. “Tell Mr. Abernathy I have one of the ledgers.”
The young man nodded.
He stopped by the accounting office that took care of his store’s books. “Paul, would you look at these two ledgers and tell me if you think they cover the same entries?”
“I can’t today, but I’ll look at them later this week.”
“That will be fine.”
Maggie was boiling laundry in a large kettle over the fire when Vivian stepped into the kitchen.
Maggie pushed damp tendrils of hair off her moist forehead with her forearm. “It was awful nice of you to pay Mrs. Parker so generously.”
“She did excellent work. She deserved it.”
Maggie raised her eyebrows but didn’t voice an opinion.
“Sometimes a person just needs a little help before they can get back on their feet. I don’t want Abigail to despair.” She took her basket out of the cupboard.
“With a friend like you, how could she?” Maggie stepped away from the steaming water. “I made extra scones this morning. The ones with sausage and cheese in them. I have some oatmeal cookies. Here is a pint of milk and some butter for the scones.”
“Maggie, you’re spoiling those children.”
“Humph. I don’t see how you can spoil children who have no home. You could bring them back here to live.”
She’d thought of that. “They are good children, but what if they accidentally do something to the house? It belongs to William. I couldn’t in good conscience do anything that might result in damage to his property. I’ll just have to think of something else.” She added some cheese to her basket and headed over to Abigail’s home before going down to the water.
Abigail welcomed her warmly. “I’ll make us some tea. I have some dried spearmint and rose hip from my garden.” She headed through the living room with only a rocking chair in it toward the kitchen. “I’ve had to sell some of the furniture.”
Vivian followed Abigail into the kitchen. “I’ll help.” It looked as though Abigail had had to sell more than some furniture.
“I’m sorry I don’t have any baked goods today, but I do have some applesauce I canned.”
She took a jar from her sparse cupboard. “I could quickly mix some of this up into apple cinnamon muffins.”
“The applesauce will be fine.” She hadn’t realized Abigail had so very little.
Abigail prepared the tea then brought two cups over to the table and sat. “I haven’t had a visitor since before Harrison died.”
How sad.
“No one quite knows what to say to a widow, so they say nothing at all. They give you a sad look and a wan smile.”
Yes, she’d experienced a little of that the few times she’d encountered people. She was grateful they stayed at bay. She didn’t know what to say to them, either. She’d thought she’d been successfully avoiding people. It seemed to go both ways. She took a sip of her tea. “I spoke with my friend at Jackson’s General Store in town. He will give you a reduced price on everything you buy.”
“Can he do that?”
“He’s the owner. Just ask for Conner Jackson and tell him you’re my friend.”
Tears glistened in Abigail’s blue eyes. “Thank you. It’s plain to see that we are at the end of our means. To have my few pennies buy more food for Harry means more to me than I can put into words.”
Vivian knew all too well how far a small bit of help went toward strengthening one’s hope. She would have to think of a way to do more to help Abigail help herself. Maybe find her a permanent job. “How soon do you have to move from your house?”
Abigail looked away then said, “About a month. I’m hopeful the Lord will provide a place for us.”
Which she would guess meant it was probably less than a month. Abigail was trying to look at things in the best light so they didn’t appear so bleak. Vivian knew how that was. She wanted to invite Abigail and Harry home with her, but she didn’t feel that would be right considering it was William’s house now. What would Abigail and her son do when William arrived and Vivian had to leave? Abigail coming to live with her wasn’t the right solution, but she’d take them in before she’d let them be booted out on the streets like the orphans she was on her way to see. “I have something for you. I’ll be right back.” She went out to the carriage where Scotty waited, brushing Honey. “I’ll be ready to leave in a minute.”
Scotty nodded.
She took out the five cheese wedges and went back inside the house. “Here. I know it’s not much, but it will help.”
Abigail took the wrapped cheese. “Thank you.”
“I need to be going, but I’ll pray for you and Harry.”
“Thank you. That means more to me than the food.”
She took her leave and headed straight down to the rocky beach. Everyone came but George. He was getting steady work at the dock, unloading ship’s cargo. He was a good boy, and she prayed he would be satisfied with the work and not get into trouble.
Peter stood directly in front of her as she handed out scones and cookies. While the others went a few feet away to sit and eat, Peter stood, staring at her. “I don’t got a tooth for you. I tried and tried, but none of ’em would come loose.”
She smiled at him. “That’s okay. I have something for you.”
The others looked up expectantly.
She pulled out a penny for each of them. “And, Peter, I want you to give George his penny.”
“Why? He gots a job. They give him lots of pennies, and nickels and dimes, too.”
“Because one of those pennies is his. If you keep it, you’ll be stealing.”
He nodded sadly, staring down at the two coppery coins in his hand. “I’ll give him the not so shiny one, on account he has so many.”
She knew George didn’t just keep the money he earned. She wondered if he spent it all on himself or if he shared with the others. Maybe with her bringing food for them all, George would be generous, too. Then it made her mad. George was just a boy; he shouldn’t have to be trying to provide for the other four.
Betsy brought over her fabric pieces. “I sewed them together just like you showed me.”
The stitches were uneven, loose in some places and tight in others. “Very good.”
“I even sewed a button back on Tommy’s shirt.” Betsy pulled Tommy over to show off her handiwork.
Threads stuck out from under the button, and the fabric was puckered where some of the stitches were too wide and pulled too tight. “That was very ingenious of you to try that without being shown.” Vivian pulled out more fabric pieces. “When you are sewing these together, I want you to concentrate on making all your stitches the same size. Then sew these pieces to the ones you sewed before.”
Betsy seemed eager to try, and soon the children scattered.
Chapter 12
Conner stood in the middle of his store with Martin. It was nearing closing on Wednesday and unusually quiet, but he knew he’d likely get a last-minute rush. “I want to move all these center displays a little closer together so we can squeeze in
more supplies for the miners heading to Alaska. I have a large shipment coming in tomorrow, and I want to get as much of it inside the store as possible.”
Martin’s gaze shifted from him and was clearly focused on the door.
He turned to see what had captured Martin’s attention. A pretty young blond lady stood near the door, the reason for Martin’s dumb smile. “Would you go see to that customer?”
Martin looked at him. “What? I’m sorry. What did you say?”
Conner smiled. “We have a customer. Would you go see what she needs?”
Martin’s smile broadened. “Yes, sir.” He hastened to the front and the beautiful lady.
Conner took a measuring stick from behind the counter and began measuring the floor space between displays. He wrote the numbers on the sketch of the store’s floor plan that he’d attached to his clipboard.
“She asked for you by name.” Martin looked downtrodden.
That wasn’t his fault. He strode toward the woman, who now had five miners hovering around her. What a pretty woman did for business. “I’m Conner Jackson. May I help you?” He guided her away from the men.
“I’m Abigail Parker. Mrs. Carlyle said you were a generous man and wouldn’t charge me as high prices as some of the other stores.”
Ah, so this was the widow Vivian had asked him to help. “I would be more than happy to accommodate you. I’m going to have my assistant help you while I see to these men.”
He went back to Martin, who was sulking where he’d left him. “Widow Parker is to have everything she needs, and only charge her my cost for the items, but don’t tell her that.”
Martin nodded lethargically.
He snapped his fingers in front of Martin. “I want you to help her.”
Martin stood up straighter.
“Any time she comes into the store, either you or I will assist her.”
Martin’s smile returned, and he swaggered back to Mrs. Parker.
That evening when Conner arrived, Vivian opened the door, glad to see him.