Changes of the Heart

by Judith Mccoy Miller

  “Love doesn’t spoil children. It makes them blossom—just like flowers. Untended flowers soon wither and die; untended children do the same. Maybe not a physical death, but in other ways that damage and scar them for life. I won’t indulge her whenever the time comes that she needs correction, but she hasn’t reached that time in her life just yet,” Marie answered, with a wisdom beyond her years.

  “I’ve never seen you so serious, Marie. I’m sorry if I upset you,” Georgette responded, observing the pained look on her new friend’s face.

  “It’s all right. Guess I’m just thinking about my own childhood,” Marie replied while measuring out ingredients for a batch of buttermilk biscuits.

  “Tell me about it,” Georgette urged.

  “Nothing much to tell. Too many kids, too little money. I watched my ma turn into an old woman by the time she was thirty. She died shortly after my youngest brother turned two. I was the oldest child and the only daughter. Guess that says it all. I had to give up going to school when Ma died. All my time was taken up cooking, sewing, doing farm chores, and tending my brothers. When I turned sixteen, I told Pa he’d better find someone else to take over. He didn’t take too kindly to the idea, but I stuck to my guns. I figured he’d never look for a wife as long as he had me around, and I sure didn’t plan to die like Mama. Soon he found him a widow lady to marry. The day she moved in, I moved out.”

  “Where did you go?” Georgette asked, fascinated by the unfolding story. Although her own family was not considered wealthy, they had never wanted for anything.

  “I hate to admit it, but I took the egg money and used it to pay for my passage to St. Louis. However, without any education or experience, I found that there weren’t many jobs available. So I went to work cooking in a restaurant. One day the owner of a saloon down the street asked if I wanted a job making twice as much money. Unfortunately, I jumped at the chance,” she answered, shaking her head in obvious disgust at what she had done.

  “You were young and made a mistake; we all do. What’s important is that we learn from those mistakes,” Georgette consoled.

  “I’m afraid I was a long time learning! I saved enough money to get myself to California, hoping to get a fresh start. Trouble is, I used up all my money getting here. I told myself I’d work in a saloon only for a little while, just long enough to get some money together and figure out what I wanted to do.”

  “What city were you living in?” Georgette asked, taking the baby while Marie rolled out the biscuits.

  “Here. In Placerville. Jake Grisby, the owner of the saloon, was in San Francisco the day I arrived. He goes there whenever he needs to hire new girls,” she explained.

  “Why?” Georgette asked.

  “To watch for new female arrivals. He has quite a line—but let’s not go into that. Anyway, I came to Placerville and ended up worse than when I’d been in St. Louis. Jake always found a reason not to pay us. He figured if we ever got ahold of any money, we’d take off—and he was right about that. You can’t just walk to another town from Placerville—at least not one where you could make a living.”

  “I’ll bet you’ve had lots of men asking for your hand. Wo-men are scarce around here. Why didn’t you accept one and get out of that place if it was so bad?” Georgette asked.

  “Oh, sure. I had marriage proposals. But most of the men that came in the saloon couldn’t support a wife. Besides, what little gold they found was used to buy liquor and more supplies because they were determined they’d strike the mother lode the next time they went out in the hills. And the few men of means that came around weren’t about to marry a saloon girl. Believe me, there wasn’t an easy answer. At least not until I listened to Pastor Wilson,” she explained.

  “I’m so glad that you came to our Christmas dinner. Just think, if Jake hadn’t closed the saloon Christmas day, you’d most likely still be working for him. I’ll bet he’s been seething ever since,” Georgette said, giggling.

  “I think you’re probably right. I’m hoping I can save up enough money to help a couple of the other girls get out of there someday. Working there is a poor excuse for a life,” Marie explained while she wiped the flour from her hands.

  ❧

  “Well, what are you two so serious about?” Maura asked as she entered the back door, which allowed a gust of cold air into the room.

  “It’s getting colder, isn’t it?” Georgette asked while Maura hung her coat on one of the pegs by the back door.

  “Yes,” Maura answered, moving toward the fireplace to warm her hands.

  “What took you out so early this morning?” Marie inquired, giving Maura a sweet smile.

  “Luther and I wanted to meet with Pastor Wilson to go over our wedding plans. You know how Luther is—he didn’t want to leave everything until the last minute,” Maura explained.

  “My goodness, Maura, you’ve got almost three weeks. How much can there be to discuss?” Georgette asked in a voice filled with irritation.

  Although Georgette had been attempting to act supportive of their reconciliation and impending wedding, it was obvious that she hadn’t totally adjusted to the thought of Maura’s moving back with Luther.

  “Luther just wants everything to go smoothly,” Maura replied.

  “He just wants to be sure that you don’t back out,” Georgette rebutted.

  “Back out? Georgette, I’m already married to Luther. This wedding is more for me than Luther. He wanted me to have the kind of wedding I’ve always dreamed about. One I could re-member with fondness,” Maura answered, hurt at Georgette’s attitude.

  “Right now, Luther Buchanan would do anything to get you back to that store. He’s probably already figuring how much more money he’s going to make having you there working all the time,” she retorted, her facial expressions forming a giant pout.

  Maura couldn’t refrain from breaking into laughter at Geor-gette’s dramatic exhibition.

  “Just what are you laughing about?” Georgette demanded.

  “You!” Maura replied. “I’m surprised that you’re not stomping your feet. Honestly, Georgette, you’re acting more childish than a two-year-old.”

  “Is that right? Well, perhaps if you were in my position, you’d be stomping your feet, too! I’m about to lose my best friend, and it’s not a very pleasant feeling,” Georgette replied.

  “Lose your best friend? You’re not losing me, Georgette. I’m only moving down the street,” Maura responded. “I think we need to have a talk. Let’s go in the parlor. Marie, would you mind looking after Becca?” she asked while ushering Geor-gette toward the other room.

  “Sit down,” Maura instructed.

  Georgette plopped down into the wooden rocking chair and furiously rocked back and forth.

  “You know, Georgette, I remember a young girl I met on a ship sailing to California. She became my friend, and I thought she wanted only the best for me. It appears that what she really wanted was what was best for me—as long as it was what was best for her also.”

  “That’s not true,” Georgette fired back, jumping up from the chair. “I still want what is best for you, but I’m not convinced that going to live with Luther is what’s best.”

  “Georgette, it’s not been so long ago that you were seeing the kinder, more gentle side of Luther. But now that we’ve made progress in reconciling our differences, you’ve changed your mind. Your attitude makes me think that you’re more concerned about losing my help in the restaurant than anything else.”

  “I’m hurt that you could even think such a thing,” Georgette responded, tears forming in her eyes. “I suppose the real truth is that I’ve come to rely upon you, Maura. If—I mean, when— you leave, it’s going to be like leaving my family all over again. I’ll be alone,” she said, her voice now soft and pitiful.

  “Georgette, Luther has agreed that I can continue to help here at the restaurant. And I plan to do just that. Besides, you must remember that you have Becca and Marie. Marie is such a dear
, and the two of you are already getting along famously. I truly believe that the Lord has sent her to us for this very reason.”

  “The Lord knows my heart, and He knows it’s you I want here,” Georgette answered, still unwilling to concede.

  “The Lord knows what we need, and He provides. Nowhere in the Bible does it say that He provides what we want. Remember that, Georgette. It’s a difficult lesson—one that most of us don’t fully master in a lifetime.”

  “I’ll try to be happy for you, Maura, but I want you to re-member that if things turn sour again, you’ve always got a home here.”

  “Thank you, Georgette,” she said, giving the girl a hug.

  “I must admit that I’m surprised that Luther has agreed you can continue to help with our business,” Georgette said.

  “I think he realizes how important the restaurant has become to me, and he also knows how much I’ll miss being with you and Becca. He truly has changed, Georgette. In fact, now I don’t doubt his love for me. We’ve both had changes of heart, and I think we’re going to begin our marriage for all the right reasons when we have our wedding in a few weeks.”

  “I hope so, Maura. The last thing I want is for you to be hurt again,” Georgette responded, obviously unconvinced that Luther’s motives were genuine.

  ❧

  During the next week the weather turned colder, and on several mornings the Placerville inhabitants had awakened to a light dusting of snow. This morning, however, it had continued. Maura glanced out the window, watching as the large, wet flakes began to accumulate, the tree branches already laden with the additional weight.

  “Why the worried look?” Marie asked as she walked into the kitchen and poured a large mug of coffee.

  “Luther left for San Francisco yesterday. I tried to convince him to wait until the weather cleared, but he said that would mean holding off until spring,” Maura replied, pushing the cream pitcher across the table toward Marie.

  “He’ll be fine. I’m sure that he’s been making the trip for quite a few years now and knows how to take care of himself. Quit your worrying! It’ll do him no good, and it certainly won’t do you any good,” Marie advised.

  “You’re right, but it’s easier said than done.”

  Marie smiled and placed an arm around her new friend. “If the three of us commit to keep him in our prayers until his safe return, perhaps it will be easier for you.”

  “Thank you, Marie. It would mean a great deal to know that you and Georgette are praying for Luther’s safety. I’ll be doing the same,” she answered. “By the way, have I told you how pleased I am that God sent you to us?”

  “Well, not exactly. However, Georgette has told me that I’m God’s answer to Luther’s prayers,” she responded, with a broad smile.

  Maura chuckled at the remark. “I think you are God’s answer to many prayers. But, in addition to that, I am very pleased to be counted among your friends and am happy that you’ve come to live here.”

  “Thank you, Maura. I’ll be forever in your debt—and Geor-gette’s,” Marie solemnly stated.

  “You’re not in my debt, Marie. You’ve more than earned your keep around here. Without your help, it would have been several more weeks before we could open the restaurant. And now look at us—we’ve been in full operation for almost two weeks.”

  “Speaking of which, I’d better get busy. We’ll have customers expecting breakfast soon,” Marie answered, just as the front door slammed shut.

  “Georgette! Where have you been? I didn’t even realize that you’d left the house,” Maura inquired, her concern evident.

  Georgette knocked the snow from her boots and then moved toward the kitchen stove to warm herself. “I wanted to remove some of the snow from the front steps before our customers begin arriving,” she explained. “It’s really coming down, so my efforts will probably be in vain,” she continued while doffing her heavy wool coat and gloves.

  “We may not have many customers if it’s that bad out there,” Maura commented.

  “Don’t count on that,” Marie countered. “The men around here have become used to a hearty home-cooked breakfast. Believe me, they’ll be here. I’d better get out back and bring in some more wood,” she said, reaching for her heavy coat hanging by the kitchen door.

  “Michael tells me that it looks as if this promises to be the worst storm in several years,” Georgette commented as she rubbed her hands together in front of the fire. “He said anyone caught out in this weather would be fortunate to survive.”

  Maura felt her heart sink in her chest. “Michael thinks it’s going to be that bad?” she inquired, attempting to hide her growing concern.

  “He said it looks like we’re in for a good one and there’s no telling when it might stop. A couple of the old-timers that have been around these parts for years told him from the look of the skies, we’ll probably be snowed in for quite a while. I hope Luther’s got his supplies well stocked,” she commented.

  “Luther’s gone,” Maura quietly answered.

  “Gone? Gone where?” Georgette asked with surprise.

  “San Francisco.”

  “San Francisco? Why on earth did he leave this time of year—with so little time before your wedding? Did he have supplies coming in?” she inquired.

  “He didn’t tell me much. I asked him to wait, but he said he had to go. I know it wasn’t for supplies because he didn’t take the wagons. He was going alone on his horse and said he should be back in plenty of time for the wedding.”

  “Isn’t that just like him? That man is so selfish—always thinking of himself and causing—”

  “Georgette, I really don’t want to hear your unkind remarks. I’m concerned about Luther, and what would help me is to know that my friends are praying for his safe return rather than criticizing his mysterious actions,” Maura said as Marie bustled in the back door with an armful of wood, her hair turned temporarily white from the trip outdoors.

  The breakfast crowd began arriving, and the morning passed quickly. It was shortly after ten o’clock when Maura noticed Georgette as she sat talking with Michael, who had returned for coffee and a break from his work. This arrangement had become a recent habit, and Maura was pleased that the two of them seemed to be forming a caring relationship.

  “Where are you going?” Georgette called out just as Maura reached the front door.

  “I promised Luther that I’d take care of the store during the afternoon while he’s gone. I’ll be back to help with supper, and things are well underway for the noon crowd. So I don’t think you’ll need me. If you do, send word to Charles, and I’m sure he’ll relieve me at the store so that I can return,” she replied as she tied on her heavy wool bonnet.

  “Wait, Maura. I’ll go with you. It’s treacherous walking out there, and we sure don’t want you falling down,” Michael offered.

  “No, no. I don’t want to take you away. I can make it just fine,” she replied.

  “I’ll hear nothing of the kind,” he sternly admonished as he rose from the chair.

  Once they were out the door, she was glad to have Michael’s assistance. The snow made walking nearly impossible, and the high winds made it difficult to see so much as a hand in front of one’s face.

  “It’s a real white-out,” Michael shouted as they pushed against the wind.

  Maura didn’t attempt to reply. It was taking every ounce of strength she had just to remain upright for the short distance. In fact, it would have been impossible without Michael’s help. Once inside the store, she removed the “Closed” sign from the door and carefully lit several of the oil lamps.

  “I’ll get a fire going for you before I leave,” Michael offered, and Maura didn’t resist. “By the way, Georgette didn’t seem to know why Luther had ventured off to San Francisco in the middle of winter. Did he confide in you before leaving town?” he inquired while keeping his attention on the wood he was stacking in the fireplace.

  She was chilled to the bone, and
although she knew she could muster the strength to get the fire started, it would take her much longer than it would take Michael. Watching as he adeptly laid the wood in place and set a match to the tinder, she smiled as the fire began to lick upward toward the larger logs and then answered, “I really don’t know, Michael. He said he had some business that had to be taken care of and he’d be back in time for the wedding.”

  She hoped he would say something to bolster her spirits and help assuage the growing fear in the pit of her stomach.

  “It ought to warm up in here pretty soon. Why don’t you sit close by and dry off,” he suggested after a brief pause. “Looks like I’d better bring in some more wood before I go so it’ll be good and dry before it’s needed,” he said, surveying the sparse pile by the stone hearth.

  “Thank you, Michael. I appreciate your help,” she said, sitting down in the chair he’d pulled close to the fireplace.

  “I’m glad to help, Maura. I just wish that Luther wouldn’t have taken off in this kind of weather. He knows better.”

  “It wasn’t snowing when he left,” she said in his defense.

  “No, but he knows enough about this country to realize there was a possibility of something like this.” Seeing the pained look on her face, he quickly added, “Luther knows how to take care of himself. I’m just glad he’s traveling on horseback instead of with wagons. He stands more of a chance of getting through without wagons. Besides, he’s made more trips to San Francisco than anyone else around Placerville. If anyone can find his way through this storm, it’ll be Luther. Guess I’d better get back to work,” he continued while walking toward the front door.

  “Thanks again, Michael.”

  “I’ll come back around four o’clock and fetch you,” he told her and quickly exited. A rush of cold air and a light layer of snow entered the store as Michael left.

  Doubt there will be much business here today, she thought as she began walking about the store and deciding what tasks would keep her busy during the next several hours.