Changes of the Heart

by Judith Mccoy Miller

  “I’m the one who will be held accountable for my own actions, Georgette. You haven’t influenced me, and I truly believe that God’s hand is at work in this. After dinner, why don’t you take Becca into your bedroom while I talk to Luther in the kitchen.”

  However, Luther strode in the front door before Georgette had an opportunity to reply. As had become the custom over the past two weeks, after grace had been said, the only conversation at the dinner table was the little that was absolutely required to get through the meal.

  Georgette rapidly downed her food and gulped a glass of milk as she rose from the table. “Sorry to rush off, but I need to check on Becca,” she explained to no one in particular as she hurried from the room.

  “She sure seems skittish tonight,” Luther commented.

  “We need to talk,” Maura said, ignoring his remark about Georgette’s behavior.

  “Good, it’s about time. Why don’t you pour me another cup of coffee, and I’ll have a big slice of that apple pie while we talk,” he said, eyeing the buttery crust and tart apples.

  Maura complied with his requests and then seated herself across from him. “I think you’d agree that this is not the marriage either of us intended,” she began.

  “Don’t even start with that. . .I don’t hold with divorce, and I’ll not be hearing that kind of talk. Is that the solution you’ve come up with after two weeks of praying?”

  “No, it isn’t. As I said, this isn’t the marriage either of us intended, and I don’t think it’s what God intended for us. I’ve prayed steadfastly for an answer and believe I’ve received one. I don’t intend ever to speak of divorce, Luther, but I believe it would be best if we separated for a time. What I plan to do is move out of your house, but I’ll remain here in town. I’m hopeful that one day soon we will be able to resolve our differences and begin our married life anew. Until then, I expect nothing from you and will take only the belongings I brought with me from Boston. I’ll be leaving tomorrow, and, of course, Georgette and Becca will be moving at the same time.”

  He sat looking at her as though she hadn’t spoken. After what seemed an eternity, he lifted his cup and took a drink of coffee. Carefully placing the cup on the table, he looked directly into her eyes.

  “Just how do you and Georgette plan on supporting yourselves and Becca? Or am I allowed to ask?”

  “We’ll be just fine, Luther. I’m much more capable than you think, but be assured that I truly want to make our marriage work. I just don’t think it’s possible right now.”

  “You avoided answering my question, so I guess that means it’s none of my business. What if I told you I forbid you to leave—that you are my wife and you’ll do as I say?” he asked.

  “If you went so far as to say that, most likely I would stay. But you’re not going to forbid me, are you, Luther?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

  “No, I’m not going to forbid you. In fact, I’m not even going to ask you to stay. But when you’ve had your fill of trying to make it on your own, you need not ask permission to move back in. The house will be here, I’ll be here, and your place will always remain here.”

  “Why, Luther?” she asked, in a strangled voice, the lump in her throat growing larger with each passing moment.

  “I committed myself to this marriage. You’re my wife, and your place is with me.”

  “Thank you for your honesty,” she replied as an overwhelming sadness filled her being. His proclamation revealed what she already knew in her heart. The marriage was a contractual bargain he must fulfill—not out of his love and affection for her, but out of duty to God’s word.

  SIX

  The morning dawned crisp and cool with large puffy clouds lazily floating across a clear blue sky. Luther had been gone only a short time when a wagon pulled by two large draft horses drew in front of the house. Two men from the church loaded the trunks and belongings of the women and then urged the horses forward with a familiar “Giddyup.”

  Their destination was a house previously owned by Frank Millard, a banker who had become ill and died a short time after his arrival in Placerville. Maura had been told that his family moved back East and the house had remained vacant for almost six months. But now it belonged to Georgette and Maura, thanks to a measure of the money found in Rachel’s trunk.

  The women had spent a goodly portion of their time during the past week cleaning the house and preparing a list of necessities. It had been exciting, and Maura had been surprised that Luther hadn’t gotten wind of their activities.

  “There you are, ladies,” one of the men announced while placing a trunk in the east bedroom. “That’s the last of it. Looks a little sparse, but it won’t take long before you’ll have everything you need,” he assured them.

  “I’m sure we’ll manage just fine for now, but we’ll be glad when you’ve completed the rest of our furniture,” Maura replied.

  Michael Blanchard was an excellent carpenter and furniture maker. Georgette had approached him after church last Sunday with their order, and he had worked feverishly to complete several of the items. Rather sheepishly, he’d offered to loan them some of his own furniture in exchange for home-cooked meals. Maura suspected the handsome young man was more than a little interested in Georgette, although she seemed oblivious to his overtures.

  “Well, what do you think?” Georgette asked as the two of them sat down to dinner in their new home.

  “I think it’s going to be fine,” Maura replied, not wanting Georgette to know that she missed Luther’s presence at the table.

  “Do you really think we can be ready to open by the first of the year?” Georgette inquired when Maura added nothing further to the dinner conversation.

  “What? Oh yes, at least the restaurant. If Michael can complete all the tables and chairs, we can sew the curtains and tablecloths. It won’t matter that the serving dishes don’t match. Most of our customers will be single men who care about the quality and quantity of their food, not whether their dinnerware matches that of everyone else in the room,” she replied, smiling at the thought.

  “It’s almost too exciting to believe. I’m half owner of a business,” Georgette said aloud as if to confirm the fact.

  “It won’t seem so difficult to believe when we’re cooking, washing dishes, and waiting tables,” Maura reminded her. “I think it’s probably a good thing we won’t be opening the rooming house part of our business until later,” she added.

  “Maybe it won’t seem so overwhelming by taking on one boarder at a time. Michael said he’d finish the furniture for the bedrooms one by one, instead of doing all the beds and then all the washstands. He mentioned we might be taking on too much, but I don’t think he was looking forward to making ten beds before moving along to something else,” Georgette related.

  “I’m sure he prefers a little variety in his work,” Maura commented. “Sounds like the two of you have been chatting a good deal lately.”

  “Only about business,” Georgette replied defensively.

  “I was only teasing, Georgette. Besides, Michael is a fine young man who seems to be devout in his Christian beliefs. Furthermore, he’s a hard worker, and I certainly admire his ability to withstand the gold fever that plagues the majority of the people in this area.”

  “He is a nice man, but I’ve had enough experience with men for now. Besides, I think Becca and our business will be more than enough to keep me occupied,” Georgette replied.

  Later that afternoon Maura left the house and began walking the short distance to Luther’s store. They needed the fabric to begin making tablecloths and curtains for the restaurant, and Georgette had made it abundantly clear she didn’t want to make the decision. Maura hadn’t seen Luther since she had moved from his house, and she could feel her apprehension rising as she neared the store. The wind caught her woolen cloak, allowing a gust of cold air to thoroughly chill her entire being. Grasping at the flap, she pulled it back around her and pushed open the front door.
The familiar tinkling of the bell and the warmth from the stove seemed almost welcoming as she entered and, except for two men who were inspecting the supplies, the store appeared empty.

  Removing her cape and hanging it on the peg, she moved toward the yard goods and automatically began straightening the shelves.

  “Excuse me, ma’am, but could you possibly help us? The owner said he’d be back shortly, but he’s helping someone out in back.”

  “I can try,” Maura replied. “What is it you’re looking for?”

  “We’ve just arrived and need to purchase supplies before we go to find our gold,” one of them answered, seemingly assured there was gold patiently awaiting his arrival. “Placerville appears to be a quiet little town. I heard this place used to be called Hangtown. Is that true?”

  “I haven’t been here long myself, but unfortunately that story is true. I believe it was originally called Dry Diggings, but my husband told me that in 1849 three men were caught red-handed attempting to rob and murder a gold rusher nearby. It seems most of the miners were drunk and a kind of vigilante attitude overtook the mob. When someone asked the crowd what should be done with the three perpetrators, the crowd yelled, ‘Hang them!’ It turned into a chant and shortly thereafter the three men were stood in a wagon that had been placed under a tree to which three ropes had been attached. The men begged for mercy, for none was forthcoming. They were all hanged and it was because of that incident the town became known as Hangtown. Just last year, in 1851, the town was renamed Placerville,” she told them as they followed her throughout the store while she selected items for them.

  “Someone told me they serve something called ‘Hangtown Fry’ around here. What’s that?” the other man inquired.

  Maura smiled, recalling that she and Georgette had decided they wouldn’t put “Hangtown Fry” on their menu when the restaurant opened. However, when Michael Blanchard overheard their discussion, he’d told them it was a mistake.

  “People come here for the first time and they want to try ‘Hangtown Fry.’ You’ll be making a mistake if you don’t offer it. At least put it on the menu and if you see I’m wrong, you can always remove it,” Michael had said, convincing both of them he was giving sound advice.

  “Do you know what it is?” the other man asked when she hadn’t immediately answered.

  “Oh, yes. It’s a fried mixture of oysters, eggs, and bacon,” she replied.

  “Is there a story behind that, too?” the first man inquired.

  “Yes,” she smiled. “It appears there’s a story behind most things around here. Would you like to hear it?”

  “Sure,” one of them answered.

  “It seems there was a hungry miner who had struck gold and came to town fresh from his claim and went to the hotel. Apparently he was feeling quite prosperous and asked for the most expensive meal the cook could prepare. He was told the most expensive item was oysters, followed by eggs. After thinking for a moment, he told the waiter to fry a mess of both and throw in some bacon. It’s been a popular dish in these parts ever since,” she related.

  “We’ll have to try some of that after we strike it rich,” one of them said to Maura.

  “You be sure and do that. I think I’ve gathered most of the items you’ll need. Are you going to share a pan and rocker? They’re rather expensive,” she added, seeing their indecisiveness.

  “I guess we’ll just take one to start. What else have you put together for us?”

  “You’ll need beans, pork and bully beef, coffee, pick and shovel, bucket, frying pan and eating utensils. Do you have knives and sidearms?”

  Both of them nodded affirmatively to that question.

  “I don’t know if you’ll be interested in chewing tobacco, whiskey, or playing cards. A lot of the men request those items, although I’d advise against all of them,” she added.

  Before they’d had an opportunity to answer, Luther walked in the back door. “Sorry to keep you waiting so long, gentlemen,” he apologized before catching a glimpse of Maura.

  “We’ve been doing just fine. Your wife has kept us entertained while gathering our supplies,” one of them answered.

  “I’ll let you finish up, Luther. I wanted to check some of the fabric for tablecloths and curtains,” she explained, not wanting to say anything further in front of the strangers.

  “Let’s see what you’ve got here,” Luther said to the men after nodding at Maura. “Appears she’s just about got you outfitted. Will you be needing any weapons, ammunition, or whiskey?” he inquired, seeing none of those items in the accumulation.

  “Don’t think we’d better be spending what little money we’ve got left on whiskey, but I’d like a pouch of chewing tobacco and some playing cards,” one of the men replied.

  Once Luther and the men had loaded all of the supplies into the wagon, they returned to the store. Maura was measuring and cutting the fabric she’d decided upon. Although she could feel Luther’s eyes on her as he calculated the men’s purchases, neither of them said a word.

  “Thanks for your help, ma’am,” one of them called out to Maura.

  “And for the fine storytelling, too,” the other added.

  “You’re more than welcome. Best of luck to both of you. Stop by again when you need supplies,” she answered, giving them a wide smile.

  Maura had just completed folding the last piece of material when Luther returned.

  “I really appreciate your help with those customers,” Luther told her, a hint of warmth in his voice.

  “You’re welcome. I think I’ve tallied this correctly,” she said, counting out what she owed him.

  “You don’t need to pay for it,” he said, pushing the coins back toward her.

  “Yes, Luther, I do need to pay for it. You’ll need to replenish your stock, and that costs money. I promise to allow you the same privilege if you eat a meal in our restaurant,” she said.

  “No free meals, huh?” he asked, giving her a lopsided grin.

  “I’m afraid not. At least not until we see if we can make a go of it,” she replied.

  “There’s no doubt in my mind you’ll make a go of it. There’s plenty of hungry men in these parts, and once they’ve tasted your cooking, the word will spread like wildfire.”

  Maura felt a blush rise in her cheeks. It was the first time he had ever acknowledged that she was a good cook. Not that he hadn’t eaten with a hearty appetite, for he’d surely done that. But it was the first verbal compliment she’d received from him. Although she wasn’t sure exactly why, it pleased her immensely.

  “I’ve got the coffee on. Would you care for a cup?” he asked, watching as she moved toward the peg where her cloak was hanging.

  “Thanks, but I’d better be getting back. We plan to get started on our sewing this evening,” Maura replied, fastening the woolen outer garment.

  “Some other time then?” he questioned.

  “Yes, some other time,” she replied.

  ❧

  “I think he realizes what a prize he lost,” Georgette stated firmly as the two women sat sewing several hours later.

  Maura and Georgette had been discussing the events that had occurred while Maura was at Luther’s store earlier in the day.

  “I doubt he’d ever think of me as a prize. He probably has just come to the realization that although I can’t move as quickly as others, I did provide him a measure of assistance. At least he could leave the store for short periods of time when I was there,” Maura said.

  “What do you think?” Maura asked, holding one of the curtains in front of a dining room window.

  “They’re going to be ideal,” Georgette replied. “I’m glad you chose this heavy lace fabric. I wasn’t sure when I first saw it, but it’s exactly what we need.”

  “I think the dark green tassels on the curtains, along with the dark green tablecloths, will set off the oak furniture to perfection,” Maura remarked.

  “Michael Blanchard asked me if I would attend a gath
ering at the minister’s house Friday night,” Georgette announced, unexpectedly changing the subject.

  “How exciting. You told him you’d go, didn’t you?”

  “No. I told him I wasn’t interested in any type of courtship.”

  “Georgette! Why did you say that? He’s been so kind to us, and he’s a nice man.”

  “I told you a few days ago that I’m not interested in men right now. I have Becca and you and our new business venture,” she replied.

  “You’re also entitled to a little fun in your life. Just because he occasionally escorts you doesn’t mean that you’re obligated to enter into a courtship. So long as he knows all you’re interested in is friendship, what’s the harm?”

  “I’m a mother, and I need to be with Becca. What will I say if he asks about my circumstances?”

  “Tell him in a kind manner that you don’t care to discuss your personal business, and I’m sure he’ll honor your wishes. As to needing to be with Becca, you’d be gone only three or four hours. Becca won’t even know you’ve left the house, and I hope you would trust me to care for her,” Maura encouraged.

  “I wouldn’t feel right leaving you alone, especially during the holiday season. It seems improper for me to go out enjoying myself while you would be here caring for my baby.”

  “I want you to go and have some fun, Georgette. Tell Michael you’ll go as long as he doesn’t interpret your acceptance as anything more than friendship.”

  “Well. . .if you insist. It really does sound like fun,” Georgette acquiesced.

  “Good. Now, tell me what they’ve planned for the evening,” Maura encouraged.

  “We’re going to have a taffy pull and make popcorn. Then later everyone will gather around the piano and sing carols. Michael said that he went last year and it was great fun.”

  “It sounds like a wonderful holiday celebration. I’m glad you’ve agreed to attend,” Maura said.

  “It appears we’ve reached a good stopping point for this evening, and I think I hear Becca’s familiar cry,” Georgette replied.