To Find Her Place

by Susan Anne Mason

  The doctor turned frank hazel eyes on her. “Yes. Luckily this was a mild arrhythmia. Nothing some rest won’t cure.” He handed Jane a piece of paper. “I was coming to give your mother this note for the pharmacist. I’ve made a slight alteration to the dosage of her medication. The next time you get it filled, give them this.”

  Jane took the slip and stared at the writing, the familiar anxiety crawling across her chest. “So, it’s not urgent to fill right away?”

  “No. Next time will be fine.” He tilted his head, studying her. “Why don’t I stop by the house in the next day or two, just to be safe?”

  Relief rushed through her system so quickly that she almost felt dizzy. “I’d appreciate that. Thank you, Doctor.”

  “Not at all.” He turned back to Mama. “Remember to take it easy for the next few days, Mrs. Mitchell, and avoid all stress.”

  “I will.” Mama smiled weakly. “Thank you again.”

  When Dr. Henshaw left, Jane resumed her position at the wheelchair. “Let’s get you home, Mama.”

  Several hallways and an elevator ride later, Jane wheeled her mother through the lobby to the front door, where she paused to take a breath and allow the stress to drain out of her. Mama’s health was stable for the moment, which was all that really mattered. She gave a silent prayer of thanks as she moved the wheelchair to a safe spot and patted her mother’s shoulder.

  “Wait here, Mama. I’ll see if there’s a taxi handy.” Jane exited through the revolving door, scanning the area in front of the building. But the place where the taxis usually parked was empty. She blew out a breath. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be long until another one showed up.

  Just then, a familiar-looking car approached the front of the building.

  Her shoulders stiffened. What was Garrett still doing here? She’d made it clear that she didn’t want him to wait. Why hadn’t he listened to her?

  Before her temper could come to a full boil, the man unfolded himself from the driver’s seat and jogged over.

  “Jane.” He waved as he approached her. “Is your mother with you?”

  Irritation climbed farther up her spine. “I told you not to wait.”

  “I tried to go, honestly. But it bothered me leaving you and your mother without a dependable way to get home. So, I kept circling around until I saw you come out.” He gestured to the area where the cabs usually congregated. “Good thing, since the last taxi took off a few minutes ago.” He shrugged, appearing totally unrepentant for disregarding her wishes.

  “I’m sure another one will be along any moment.” She craned her neck to see around him, but no other vehicles came into view. More than anything, she didn’t want this man mixed up with her personal life and meeting her frail mother would let him see far too much.

  He frowned. “Are you actually going to refuse a ride home? With your ill mother waiting inside?” He stared at her as if she’d lost her mind.

  She pulled the strap of her purse tighter. The rational part of her brain told her she was being unreasonable, but she couldn’t help it.

  He came closer. “If I’ve offended you in any way, I apologize. I simply want to help.”

  A wave of shame overrode her irritation. She exhaled loudly. “It’s not your fault.” She stared at a button on his jacket, not quite able to meet his gaze. “I guess I’m a little on edge, but I shouldn’t take it out on you.”

  “Fair enough. My offer still stands if you care to take me up on it.” His quiet statement caused another round of shame to heat her cheeks.

  “Janey? Is everything all right?”

  She whirled around to see her mother hobbling along the walkway.

  Jane rushed to her side. “Mama, you shouldn’t be out of the chair.”

  “I didn’t know what was keeping you.”

  “There aren’t any taxis available right now.” She shot a glance at Garrett, who stood watching them, and her resistance drained away. Her mother needed to get home to rest. Dr. Henshaw had specifically advised her to avoid stress. “But my colleague, Mr. Wilder, has offered to give us a lift.”

  A tremulous smile lit her mother’s face. “How nice of him.”

  Jane turned to Garrett. “This is my mother, Hildie Mitchell.”

  He came forward, hand outstretched. “Glad I can help, Mrs. Mitchell. After all, what’s the point of having a vehicle if I can’t give people a ride?”

  A hint of color returned to Mama’s cheeks. “Thank you, Mr. Wilder.”

  “Please, call me Garrett.”

  As he helped Mama into the car, she seemed to perk up right before Jane’s eyes.

  Jane bit her lip. She should be relieved, happy even.

  But as she climbed into the back seat, she still couldn’t seem to let her guard down.

  Garrett pulled away from the curb and glanced over at the older woman beside him. “How are you feeling, Mrs. Mitchell?”

  Her shoulders and back were slightly stooped, giving her the appearance of a much older person, though she couldn’t be more than sixty.

  “A little weak, though I’m sure I’ll feel better once I’m home.” She gave him a thin smile and leaned her head against the seat. “So, you work at the Children’s Aid with Jane?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I just started there, and so far, I must say I’m impressed with your daughter’s work ethic.” He resisted looking in the mirror to see Jane’s reaction.

  “My Janey does work hard. Too hard, in my opinion.”

  He nodded. “It appears all the staff is overworked.”

  “Tell me about yourself, Garrett.” Mrs. Mitchell shifted to look at him, her eyes bright with sudden interest.

  The tension in Garrett’s shoulders eased at this much safer topic of conversation.

  “Well, I grew up not far from here. My parents own an apple orchard and farm over in Huttonville, about an hour’s drive away.”

  “Goodness. Do you drive into the city from there every day?”

  “No, ma’am. I rent a room in town, but I usually go home on the weekends to help out.”

  “I’m sure your parents appreciate that.” Mrs. Mitchell gave a loud sniff. “Makes me miss my Brandon just hearing about it.”

  Garrett felt the weight of Jane’s sigh from the back seat. “Is Brandon your son, the one who’s away fighting in the war?”

  “Yes. I pray every day that God sees fit to send him home safe and sound.”

  Garrett swallowed hard. From his own mother’s reaction to him going off to fight, and then coming back injured, he knew how hard the war was on the soldiers’ families. He looked over at her. “I was overseas for a time as well. Until I got injured and sent home. My parents are very happy to have me back.”

  “I can understand that. Not that I want Brandon to be injured. Just that he comes home safe.”

  Garrett reached over and patted the woman’s arm. “I’ll pray that he does, Mrs. Mitchell.”

  “This is our street up here on the right,” Jane said.

  Garrett welcomed the interruption, glad that no one asked about his injuries or why he hadn’t been sent back to the fighting. He pulled up in front of the house Jane indicated and turned off the engine. Then he ran around to open the passenger door for Mrs. Mitchell.

  Jane was quick to help her mother onto the sidewalk, while Garrett grabbed her small case.

  “Where shall I put your bag, Mrs. Mitchell?”

  “Just leave it on the porch,” Jane said over her shoulder. “I’ll get it later.”

  Garrett frowned. Why did she seem so determined not to accept any help? Perhaps she simply liked to keep her professional life separate from her personal one. He carried the bag to her front porch and set it down.

  “Thank you.” Jane shot him an indecipherable look as she opened the screen door.

  “Won’t you come in, Garrett?” Mrs. Mitchell peered around her daughter. “The least we can do is offer you something to drink after going out of your way for us.”

  “Really, Mama,”
Jane huffed as she twisted the key in the lock. “We’ve taken up enough of Garrett’s time as it is. I’m sure he has to get home for dinner at the boardinghouse.” She gave him a pointed stare, almost daring him to contradict her.

  “Jane’s right, ma’am. I should get—”

  Suddenly, Mrs. Mitchell’s eyes rolled back, and she pitched to one side. Garrett dashed over to catch her before she hit the porch floor.

  “Mama!” Jane whirled around, letting the screen door bang shut. “What happened?”

  Mrs. Mitchell’s thin eyelids fluttered.

  “She was about to topple over,” Garrett said. “Here, let me take her inside.” He scooped the woman into his arms and carried her into the house. She weighed barely more than a child.

  “Bring her into the parlor.” Jane rushed into the room ahead of him and gestured to a worn armchair beside the couch.

  Gently, he set Mrs. Mitchell down, making sure her head rested against the cushioned back.

  Jane grabbed a blanket and tucked it around her mother’s legs. Her features were pinched, her brow furrowed. “Mama. Can you hear me?”

  “Yes, dear,” Mrs. Mitchell said, not opening her eyes. “I’m not deaf.”

  Garrett bit his lip to keep from chuckling.

  “I just had a moment of weakness. I’ll be fine in a few minutes.” She opened one eye. “A cup of tea would certainly help.”

  “Of course. I’ll put the kettle on.” Jane turned to look at him, a question in her eyes.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll sit with her while you’re gone.”

  Jane swallowed. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He laid a hand on her arm. “Take a minute to breathe, Jane. Everything’s fine.”

  Surprisingly, moisture appeared in her eyes. She nodded and then headed down the hall.

  Garrett stared after her for a moment. Between working so many hours at the office and constantly worrying about her mother, she had to be exhausted. What toll did that level of stress take on a person?

  He turned his attention back to the parlor. The room was long and narrow, with a window that overlooked the street. Garrett let his gaze wander around the room, noting that a sofa, several wooden side tables, and an upright piano rounded out the furnishings.

  Although the room was cozy, it had definitely seen better days. The furniture appeared to be from another era, and the curtains were faded, as were the wallpaper and the rug. Near the ceiling, the paint had started to peel and bubble.

  “Like me, this house is a bit tired-looking,” Mrs. Mitchell said as though reading his thoughts. “Ever since my husband died twelve years ago, I’m afraid I’ve let things slide. My son never was very handy, and he’s been away almost four years now.” She let out a sigh.

  “And Jane’s husband is overseas as well,” Garrett added. Then again, maybe he wasn’t the handy type either.

  For a moment, Mrs. Mitchell appeared startled, her fingers flying to the neck of her blouse. Then, she nodded. “You’re right. Donald has been gone just as long as Brandon.”

  Garrett rose and walked over to the piano, the one piece of furniture that looked in better shape. Several family photos sat on top. The largest portrayed a younger Mrs. Mitchell with the man who must have been her husband and their two children. Garrett peered closer at a young Jane, with her hair in a bow and long ringlets over each shoulder. The fair-haired boy beside her favored their father. Another picture showed the same boy, now a young man in uniform, fresh-faced and smiling. A third depicted Jane in a black graduation cap and gown. The innocent beauty in her features made his breath catch. He scanned the top of the piano again and then the rest of the room. Why weren’t there any pictures of Jane and her husband? Surely they must have taken a wedding photo.

  Footsteps entered the room. Garrett turned to see Jane setting a laden tray on the coffee table.

  He took a seat on the sofa while she poured the tea. A shroud of silence seemed to descend on the room, where only the sounds of a clock ticking and the tea dribbling into the cups could be heard.

  “So, who is the piano player in the family?” he asked to break the quiet.

  “Mama is.” Jane’s features softened. “She used to teach students here.” She handed her mother a china cup and saucer.

  Mrs. Mitchell smiled. “Oh, but Jane is a wonderful pianist too. I know because I taught her myself.”

  “Don’t exaggerate, Mama.” Color bled into Jane’s cheeks, highlighting the hue of her lips. “How do you take your tea, Mr. Wi—I mean Garrett?”

  “Just a bit of milk, please.”

  She handed him a dainty cup with a slight tremor in her hand. He took it from her, astonished by his longing to steady her hand with his.

  Mrs. Mitchell took a rather noisy sip of her tea, then looked over at him. “If you live in a boardinghouse, I take it you aren’t married.”

  Jane started to cough and set her cup down with a loud clink. “Mama, that’s rather personal, don’t you think?”

  Garrett stifled a smile. “It’s a fair question.” He looked at Mrs. Mitchell. “No, ma’am. I’m not married.”

  “Why hasn’t a handsome young man like you found a good woman?”

  From the side, he caught Jane’s annoyed expression.

  “I had a girlfriend years ago,” he said. “But after high school, our paths went in different directions, and she broke off our relationship.” He leaned back in his seat, the memory of Adeline bringing up bittersweet feelings.

  “That’s too bad.” Sympathy washed over Mrs. Mitchell’s features. “First loves can leave a scar that’s hard to heal.”

  Garrett nodded. “It was a difficult time. I wanted to go to college, but the Depression was at its height, and my parents needed me on the farm. Adeline was upset that I wouldn’t marry her right away. She didn’t understand why I couldn’t leave my parents and she had no interest in life on the farm.” Normally, he avoided talking about Adeline at all costs, but for some reason, reliving his past now didn’t seem as terrible as it once did. After the war, that seemed like a lifetime ago.

  Mrs. Mitchell shook her head. “A woman should stand by her man if she truly loves him.”

  “Unfortunately, Adeline thought differently.” He shrugged one shoulder. “She married someone else six months later.”

  “How sad.” Mrs. Mitchell leaned over to pat his arm.

  “But you did eventually get your degree,” Jane observed. “That’s something no one can take away from you.”

  “True. Although with all the unemployment right now, it’s still hard to find work.” He pressed his lips together. He understood Jane’s reason for wanting the director’s job, but he didn’t want her to know how much he was depending on getting it. It would add even more pressure to their tenuous working relationship.

  Mrs. Mitchell nodded. “I can’t imagine how hard it will be when Brandon and all the other men come back from the war. Thank goodness for Janey’s salary. Without it, I don’t know where we’d be.” She set her cup down on the table with a sigh. “Well, as much as I’ve enjoyed our conversation, I think I need to lie down for a while.”

  Right away, Jane sprang into action, rushing to assist her mother.

  Garrett got to his feet as well. “Can I help?”

  “No, thank you. Mama’s room is just down the hall.” She wrapped an arm around her mother’s waist.

  “Then I’ll take my leave. Thank you for the tea.”

  “And thank you for the ride. I appreciate it.” Jane gave him a somewhat distracted smile.

  “Anytime.” He paused. “Jane, if your workload permits, why don’t you take tomorrow off? Make sure your mother is settled and feeling well.”

  Her mouth tightened. “I’ll see how the morning goes and decide then.”

  He nodded. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Mitchell. I hope you’re feeling better soon.” He retrieved his hat. “I can see myself out.”

  On his way back to the boardinghouse, Garrett’s mind spun wi
th all he’d learned about Jane’s family. The war had certainly produced more casualties than just the soldiers who served overseas. He’d just left two brave women, struggling to survive on their own without the men in their lives to look after them.

  And both wore the scars to prove it.

  9

  Late Saturday morning, Garrett stepped out of his car and inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the scent of sunshine and ripe apples. The city was great, but nothing could beat coming home to his parents’ quaint two-story farmhouse on the edge of the rolling orchard. In the summer, the fields to the west grew raspberries and strawberries, and even now in September, Garrett could still smell their lingering sweetness that perfumed the air.

  Noise erupted from the open barn door. One of the goats raced out, followed by both of his nephews. Dale tripped, sprawling in the dirt, then quickly sprang back up and scrambled after his older brother, Kevin, who leaped onto the goat’s back. The animal gave a loud bleat, bucked and twisted, but Kevin stayed stuck like a burr. Dale joined the fray and grabbed the rope around the goat’s neck.

  “Got him!” Dale raised a fist in victory.

  “No, I got him. I’m the one who jumped on him.” Hopping off, Kevin scowled.

  Garrett suppressed a smile as he went to join them. “I’d say it was a team effort. Good job, you two.” Ramsey, the unruliest of the goats, was always trying to escape either the pen or the barn. Of course, sometimes he had a little help.

  “Uncle Garrett!” Kevin raced over to hug him. “Grandpa says we can have a bonfire tonight when it gets dark.”

  “That sounds like fun.” Garrett moved to help Dale wrangle the stubborn goat back to the barn. “Where is Grandpa now? In the orchard?”

  Kevin scampered after them. “Yup. Mom says we can help him after lunch.”

  Garrett tied the goat to one of the posts near a feed bucket. “Let’s go up to the house. I have a hankering for one of your grandma’s oatmeal cookies.”