Changes of the Heart

by Judith Mccoy Miller

  “You go ahead. I’ll finish folding these, and then I’ll be going to bed, also,” Maura answered.

  “You’re such a wonderful person, Maura. I thank God every day for sending you into my life,” Georgette said as she leaned down to give Maura a hug.

  “Thank you, Georgette. You and Becca have been a blessing to me also, and the three of us are going to be just fine. Hurry now and feed your baby before she thinks you’ve deserted her,” Maura said, returning the hug.

  During the following days, the women fell into a routine of caring for Becca, cleaning, sewing, and testing the recipes they would place on their menu, both the regular fare and the daily specials they wanted to offer. It proved to be great fun, although several of the dishes had ended up as dinner for the large tan dog who had recently adopted them and now made his home outside in their backyard. They had named him Waffles, partly because of his pale brown coloring, but mainly because the first meal he’d received had been a batch of burned waffles they’d thrown out the back door. He’d eaten every bite, and the women had been calling him Waffles ever since. He’d follow them whenever they didn’t scold and send him back home. But the dog seemed particularly protective of Becca. His tail would wag continuously when Georgette carried the baby outdoors, and if Becca cried, the dog would yelp until she was quieted. If a stranger approached the back door or he thought anything unseemly was occurring near the house, he barked profusely until Maura or Georgette assured him everything was all right.

  Maura and Georgette had discussed the possibility that Waffles might present some problems once they opened the restaurant, but for now his presence was welcome.

  When Friday evening arrived, Maura eagerly assisted Georgette as she prepared for the party. The dress she had chosen was a cherry red tissue silk with a bertha of ivory lace-bordered gauze. The cuffs and skirt were embroidered in a deep green diamond design, and Georgette fashioned her hair into a chignon of pale blond curls fastened by a deep green ribbon and small red roses. She was a beautiful young lady, and the excitement of an evening out had added a touch of color to her cheeks.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind staying with Becca?” she asked for the third time that evening, just as Michael’s knock sounded at the front door.

  Hearing the sound, Waffles barked and came loping onto the front porch. “Stop that barking before you wake up the baby! You know Michael,” Maura admonished the dog. “Come in, Michael. Sorry for Waffles’s greeting, but at least he didn’t jump on you and ruin your suit. Georgette will be down in just a moment,” she told him.

  Hearing her footsteps, Michael turned and watched as Georgette came down the staircase and into the foyer.

  “You look—” but he stopped midsentence, seeing the look she gave him.

  “—very friendly,” he finished, not knowing what else to say.

  All three of them burst into laughter. “Thank you, Michael. You look very friendly also,” Georgette replied with a giggle.

  Michael held her brown velvet-trimmed cloak as Georgette slipped her arms inside. Looking into the hallway mirror, she carefully tied the matching velvet bonnet, then placed a kiss on Becca’s forehead. Georgette and Michael bid Maura good-bye and headed off toward the Wilsons’. Maura watched through the opalescent glass window until they were out of sight and then placed the sleeping baby in her cradle. Pulling her rocking chair closer to the fireplace, she began sewing the last set of curtains for the dining room.

  SEVEN

  Georgette and Michael made a most striking couple, although there was little competition. In fact, she and Mrs. Wilson were the sum total of the women at the gathering. Mrs. Wilson divulged that she’d invited Luther, hopeful that he’d bring Maura, but he had politely declined. In a town the size of Placerville there were few women, and the remainder who had been invited were unable to attend for one reason or another.

  “I probably waited until too close to Christmas. Next year I’ll have it earlier,” she told Georgette, attempting to explain why the five other women weren’t in attendance.

  There was, however, no shortage of male guests. It seemed that the single men of the church were more than available to enjoy an evening of homespun holiday festivity.

  “Your house looks lovely, and the tree is quite beautiful,” Georgette complimented, although the branches were void of any ornamentation.

  “Thank you, Georgette. I thought we’d make a few decorations this evening and decorate the tree if our guests wanted to help. Most of the men don’t have an opportunity to participate in the familiar holiday activities they were accustomed to during childhood, so I thought they might find it fun,” she confided.

  “I don’t know about the men, but it sounds like fun to me,” Georgette replied.

  “Charles, since you and the men are gathered at the fireplace anyway, why don’t you begin making some popcorn? When it has cooled—and if you gentlemen haven’t eaten all of it—we’ll string some for the tree.”

  It was obvious that Edith Wilson was an organizer. Pulling out strips of wrapping paper that she had painted, she set several of the men to work making chains. Next she produced a large bowl of cranberries to be strung and a large container of gingerbread men and stars that she had baked the day before. Another container held cornucopias she’d made out of an old box. They’d been decorated with ribbon, lace, and velvet scraps, ending up as pretty ornaments. Yet another box contained candle holders that her father had hammered out of tin and given to her for her first Christmas tree after she’d been married.

  “I’ve used them every year. Now that Papa’s dead, they mean even more to me,” she explained to Georgette, who nodded, not because she’d shared the same experience, but because the girl wanted to avoid appearing obtuse.

  I wonder what she’d think of my father’s last gift to me? Georgette thought. A one-way ticket out of his life. Much easier than dealing with the embarrassment of a daughter who was pregnant out of wedlock.

  “How did you happen to come to Placerville?” Edith in-quired, as if she’d been reading Georgette’s thoughts.

  There was a silent pause, but just then Michael came up behind her. “I’m here for a lesson on how to get the string through these gingerbread men,” he announced as he sat down beside her.

  “How did you come to choose that particular task?” she asked with a grin.

  “I figured I’d get to eat the ones I break,” he admitted sheepishly.

  “I believe there must be a small part of little boys that never quite turns into men,” Mrs. Wilson said with a chuckle. “You instruct him, Georgette, while I see if there’s going to be any popcorn left to string for the tree.”

  “Are you having a pleasant time?” Michael asked, carefully watching as Georgette used her needle to enlarge the hole Mrs. Wilson had made while baking the cookies. Carefully she threaded the string through the hole and tied it in a knot.

  “Yes, I’m having a wonderful time. Now, let’s see if you learned anything,” she said, handing him a needle and sliding the pieces of string toward him.

  “You can’t push quite that hard,” she said, when his first at-tempt resulted in a decapitated gingerbread man.

  “While I’m eating this one, perhaps you should give me an-other lesson,” he suggested, causing Georgette to laugh.

  It feels so good to laugh over such a simple thing as a broken cookie, she thought, deftly using the needle to enlarge the holes in ten of the cookies while Michael sat watching.

  “Aren’t you going to leave any for me?” he finally asked as she continued working.

  “I think your talents may run in other directions. Why don’t you see if you can pull the string through the top without breaking any more,” she amicably requested.

  “I think this is merely a plot to keep me from eating the cookies,” he whispered loudly enough for the group to hear. Although they laughed along with him, none of them offered him any compassion. They were busy stringing popcorn and attaching the candle holders
with only each other for company. It was difficult to sympathize with the only unmarried man in the room who was escorting a beautiful woman.

  When they had finished decorating the tree, the group moved into the kitchen to begin pulling the taffy that Edith had made and placed on the table to cool just a bit.

  “Georgette, put this apron over your dress. I don’t want this taffy pull to be the cause of staining that beautiful gown,” Mrs. Wilson said, holding out a sateen apron with ribbon embroidery.

  “This apron is as pretty as my dress, Edith. I don’t think I want to chance staining it, either. Don’t you have an old one I won’t worry about?”

  “Of course she does,” Charles asserted, pulling a faded cambric apron from a hook near the back door.

  “Charles,” she called, attempting to sound outraged at his actions.

  “Oh, we don’t need to put on airs. Georgette will be just as happy in this old apron as your fancy holiday finery,” he said, giving his wife a kiss on the cheek.

  “He’s right, Edith. Now, I feel like I’m ready to get to work on that taffy.”

  Georgette wasn’t sure why, but by the time they had finished the candy, a nagging uneasiness was beginning to plague her.

  “I think I should leave now that we’ve finished the candy,” she told Edith as she removed the apron and hung it back on the hook.

  “Oh, please don’t leave so early. We’re going to light the candles on the tree and sing carols. The decorations look so pretty, and once we light the candles, there’s a whole different atmosphere. I’m sure Maura is delighted to have some time with the baby; in fact, I know she’d want you to stay for the very best part of the evening. Besides, I’ve made a chestnut pudding that you haven’t even tasted,” Edith cajoled.

  Georgette glanced at Michael with a questioning look in her eyes.

  “It’s up to you,” he told her. “I’d like to have you stay and enjoy yourself, but if you’re feeling anxious, we’ll leave whenever you’re ready.”

  She had hoped he would make the decision for her. Obviously he was wise for his years and realized that if he said they should stay while something was amiss at home, she’d hold it against him. On the other hand, if he said they should leave and everything was fine at home, it would be his fault that she missed the most meaningful portion of the evening.

  “I guess I’m just being silly since this is my first time away from Becca for more than an hour,” she told Edith and Michael.

  “So you’ll stay?” Edith asked, clapping her hands.

  “Yes, I’ll stay,” Georgette answered, a warmth enveloping her when she realized how much she was actually wanted.

  Before she could change her mind, Edith decided they should have dessert and then sing carols before returning home. She carried a beautiful silver tray bearing her glazed chestnut pudding into the dining room and was greeted by the expected ohs and ahs of all in attendance. The pudding had been baked in a fluted mold and inverted on the platter and was now covered with a delectable-looking punch sauce and surrounded by waxed holly leaves and berries.

  “My sister sent me the chestnuts from back East. I wrote her last spring telling her I longed to have our mother’s famous chestnut pudding for Christmas, and low and behold, a box arrived just last week. I had nearly given up on receiving them,” she told the group as she dished the pudding onto china dessert dishes.

  “It tastes even better than it looks,” one of the men remarked after they’d all been served and Pastor Wilson had said a short prayer.

  “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of chestnut pudding, Edith, but it is luscious. Perhaps you’d be willing to share your recipe with me, and if we’re fortunate enough to find a supply of chestnuts, we could serve it at the restaurant.”

  Edith beamed at the idea and, before anyone could stop her, began enumerating the elaborate details of how to make the pudding. “First you boil the chestnuts just long enough to peel them easily,” she began. “Once you’ve gotten them peeled, you want to cook them in milk—not a lot of milk—just barely enough to cover the chestnuts, and you must be sure to add half a cinnamon stick to the milk. . .”

  “Perhaps it would be easier for Georgette to remember the recipe if you’d write it down for her tomorrow,” her husband interrupted, realizing that the men weren’t the least bit interested in how to make a chestnut pudding. “Why don’t we move over to the piano, and I’ll light the candles while the rest of you begin singing?” he tactfully suggested.

  “How silly of me, prattling on like that,” Edith replied. “I’ll write it out for you,” she told Georgette as the two of them walked toward the piano. Seating herself, she began playing “O Little Town of Bethlehem,” and soon all of them were singing while Charles carefully lit the candles. “Silent Night” was followed by “We Three Kings” and “Joy to the World.”

  “I really must be leaving. The tree is so pretty and it’s been such a joyous evening, but it’s getting late,” Georgette whispered to Michael as they finished the last stanza of “Joy to the World.”

  Without saying a word, he moved from her side and gathered her cloak and bonnet and brought them to her, while the others continued singing.

  “Must you leave us?” Charles asked while Georgette was tying her bonnet.

  “I truly must get home, but it’s been one of the most wonderful nights of my life,” she told them. Impulsively, she walked to where Edith sat on the piano stool and gave her a hug. “Thank you, Edith, for making me so welcome in your home.”

  “It was my pleasure,” she answered. “We’ll sing you out the door,” she told them and struck up the chords to “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” just as a pounding sounded at the door.

  ❧

  Luther worked late Friday night, just as he had most nights since Maura had moved out. There were a few town folks that were doing a bit of Christmas shopping or buying necessities to make their gifts while others would come in later in the day when their other chores were completed. Some of the miners who were in town for supplies or just to get drunk came to the store whether it was day or evening. If they saw so much as a lantern burning, they figured the store was open.

  After Luther and Maura had married, she had been responsible for completing the paperwork and performing the accounting for the mercantile each evening after dinner. However, when she moved out, Luther was once again required to assume these thankless tasks. Instead of doing the paperwork after returning home, he preferred to work on it at the store as he had time between customers and stocking the shelves. Sometimes, on nights like tonight, when most of the decent town folk were at home preparing for Christmas or over at the Wilsons’ enjoying a holiday gathering, he’d work late and finish up before returning home for the night.

  I probably should have asked Maura, he thought to himself as he tallied a column of figures, but knew he didn’t want to take the chance of being rejected. He’d attended the Wilsons’ annual gathering every year since he’d arrived in Placerville, but it was different this year. He was afraid someone might question him about his marriage if he were in a more relaxed setting. Luther was all business while in his store, and people immediately sensed that about him. They never attempted to probe into his personal life while he was working, and he liked it that way. In fact, he didn’t want people delving into his personal affairs at any time, but he knew in a small town that was impossible.

  It was ten-thirty when he finally decided to close the store and make the brief walk home. However, he had walked only a short distance when he heard the eerie howling of a dog in the distance. It stopped and then began again. As he continued down the crooked street, he glanced toward the house that Maura and Georgette had purchased. It had become a habit. He despised himself for it, but hard as he tried, he couldn’t keep from looking toward their new home each time he left the store.

  There appeared to be an oil lamp burning, but that wasn’t unusual. Maura’s probably still sewing on her tablecloths and curtains, he t
hought. He had learned that she was an ambitious woman, rising early and staying up at night until all of her chores were done. Probably learned that at an early age, what with it taking her longer to do things, he reflected.

  A sudden movement on the front porch caught his eye as he turned toward the house one last time. Straining his eyes, he attempted to make out the figure stirring about on the front porch. And then it came to him. The howling was Waffles, the stray dog that had attached himself to the women shortly after they’d moved into the house, and he was pacing back and forth on the front porch.

  Luther quickened his pace and then broke into a run toward the house. As he drew closer he could see that the glass in the front door had been smashed and the door was now standing ajar. However, there was no sign of Maura or Georgette. As he began to run up the steps, Waffles bared his teeth and emitted a low guttural snarl.

  Great! Luther thought. How am I supposed to get past this dog and see if anything’s wrong? After several attempts at coaxing the dog into allowing him past, he became completely exasperated.

  “Waffles, sit!” he yelled at the dog in his sternest voice.

  Immediately the dog retreated into a sitting position and allowed him to enter the house. Becca was crying, and as soon as Luther entered the house, Waffles ran ahead of him to the bedroom, apparently sensing that Luther would help. It was obvious the dog wanted him to hurry. Spotting Becca in her cradle, Luther quickly judged that she appeared to be in no apparent danger. Except for the cold air that had been drifting in through the front door, nothing seemed out of order. Luther grabbed a quilt from Georgette’s bed and placed it around the baby. That would have to do until he could find Maura.

  “Where is she?” he asked the dog, frustrated since he’d not found her with Becca.

  Luther was startled when the dog took off running up the stairs toward one of the bedrooms. Following Waffles’s lead, he raced up the steps but momentarily stopped in the doorway, overcome by the sight. The room had been completely ransacked, and Maura was lying on the floor, with a small pool of blood by her head.