Cassandra Austin (14 page)

“Adam,” George announced, “this is Mr. and Mrs. Dobbs. Folks, this is Dr. Hart and little Peggy and Johnny.”

Adam shot Johnny a warning, look and shook hands with the couple. They were middle-aged and seemed very pleasant.

“We didn’t know about the boy,” the wife said. “I was just wanting a girl.’

“We didn’t know about Johnny, either,” Adam said. “He traveled a long way to find his sister. I believe they ought to stay together.”

“He doesn’t look very strong,” the husband commented. “Is he willing to work?”

Adam wondered how Johnny felt hearing himself discussed. The boy was frowning at his sister.

“I think he’d do anything for his sister,” Adam said. “And that would include working hard so he could stay near her.”

“I don’t know,” the wife said. “I only wanted a girl.”

“We could keep him as labor,” her husband suggested. “He could sleep in the barn.”

Adam didn’t like that idea at all, but before he could speak, Johnny sprang to his feet.

“Ma’am,” he said, still looking at his sister. “If you just want a girl you can take her. You don’t need to find no place for me.” He finally looked at the couple. “But. you better love her and be good to her.”

“Well, it’s settled then,” the woman said, smiling. She knelt down. “Do you want to come home with me, little girl?”

In Adam’s mind, this was far from settled. He didn’t want to send Peggy home with people who would even talk of treating Johnny as merely labor. He was ready to object when Peggy did it for him.

“No,” she said.

“You go with ‘em, Peggy,” Johnny said. His eyes were dry but there were tears in his voice. “They’ll be your mama and papa.” He gave her a nudge toward the woman.

Peggy ran to Adam instead and grabbed his leg. She pointed a little finger at the woman and yelled, “You go!”

The woman drew back, offended. “I understood she was a quiet, sweet child.”

Adam put his hand on her shoulder. “She is. You’ve just frightened her. But maybe it’s for the
best. I don’t want her to go without Johnny, and I don’t want Johnny sleeping in a barn.”

George made the apologies and saw the couple out the door. When he turned back, he was smiling. “You ready to give up, son?”

Adam lifted Peggy into his arms. “It’s not a matter of giving up,” he muttered. “It’s-”

Peggy’s sticky hands turned his face toward her, cutting him off. “Go see Ann Jane?”

Adam ignored George’s laugh. “Johnny, take Peggy outside, please, but try not to let her bother Aunt Jane.”

Johnny had been watching him curiously. “How do I do that?” he asked, taking his sister’s hand when Adam set her down.

“I don’t know. Keep her outside.”

Johnny scowled at him over his shoulder. “You’re gonna talk about me, ain’t ya?”

The letters were scattered on the floor all around Jane’s chair. She had read every one through at least twice. Her first surprise had been discovering that they were from her father, even the letters with the obviously feminine handwriting on the envelope. Her father’s fear that Grams would destroy any letters from him had forced him to ask a neighbor for assistance.

Jane’s second surprise had been to learn that her father had loved her mother and, according to the references to her responses, she had loved him in
return. He had not abandoned his family; Grams had torn it apart.

Grams, in her anger at her own abandonment, had discouraged Hanna’s love for William. When that had not been successful, she had feigned illness to bring her daughter home. Once back under her mother’s influence, Hanna had never been able to break away again. Time after time, William had asked when Hanna would come back to him. He had begged to be allowed to come get her, to at least visit her and their little girl.

Jane wondered if Grams had written to him when Hanna died. The last letter was dated months before that, but he might have written again, a letter that Grams opened to discover from whom it had come. If that was the case, Grams would have learned that Hanna had not been corresponding with a female friend, after all. Had Grams searched for the other letters among Hanna’s things? Perhaps not or she wouldn’t have dismissed the jewelry box.

It was hard to reconcile the woman referred to in the letters with the grandmother Jane had known all her life. Grams had loved her and cared for her, but she had also lied to her. She had taught her to mistrust men, claiming that her father had been just like her grandfather. Jane had to wonder, now, if her grandfather had been as bad as Grams had claimed.

But none of that mattered as much as the present. Her grandmother’s teachings had led her to mistrust Adam. How miserably she had treated him! He had
told her he loved her and she had thrown the words right back in his face.

She had no idea how to make amends. She had fought him over the children until he thought they were all she cared about. They were probably even now heading for their new home. Adam must think she could never forgive him.

She hadn’t allowed herself to try to understand why he had prevented her from taking Peggy. She had assumed that he couldn’t be trusted to have her interests in mind. She had believed her grandmother.

She bent and gathered the letters into a neat stack and retied the ribbon around them. She wouldn’t let her grandmother’s bitterness ruin her life the way it had her mother’s. But exactly where she should start was a question she didn’t know how to answer.

She left her bedroom, glancing at the clock in the parlor as she went by. It was already past noon. She should fix herself a lunch and start the pies for dinner.

As she entered the kitchen she heard a muffled argument outside her door. A familiar voice rose to a demand. “See Ann Jane!”

She swung open the door to find Johnny urging Peggy away from her back steps. Both children fell silent when they saw her.

Peggy held up her kitten. “Nonny fat,” she announced, grinning.

“Dr. Hart said not to bother Aunt Jane,” Johnny
reminded his sister. “Seems like we’re always botherin’ somebody.”

“Oh, pooh,” Jane said. “When were you ever a bother?”

Johnny’s answering grin didn’t have quite the defiant edge she had seen before. “I don’t think I wanna say.”

Jane laughed, taking the kitten, which was showing signs of resenting being held in the air. “Do you want to come inside?”

Johnny glanced toward the house next door. “We better not.”

It occurred to Jane that their prospective parents might even now be conferring with Adam. She sat on the step and tried for a cheerful voice when she asked, “Has the family come to meet you yet?”

“Come and gone,” Johnny said, digging a toe into the dirt.

“Gone?” She hadn’t been entirely successful at keeping the elation out of her voice.

Johnny grinned suddenly. “Peggy wouldn’t have ‘em. Told ‘em to go away.”

“Oh, dear. Were they so awful?” She tried for a sympathetic tone, but she wanted to laugh out loud.

“Pretty awful. They was real old, and she didn’t want no boy. He said they’d keep me in the barn.”

Jane hugged Peggy. She would have hugged Johnny, too, but he kept out of reach. “I’m glad you told them to go away,” she said. “There’ll be better
chances for a family, someone who wants you both.”

Johnny gave a derisive laugh. “When Ma’s last boyfriend hit Peggy I decided I didn’t want no family.”

Jane reached a hand toward him but he sidestepped, studying his toes. “It was gonna be just her and me, but I can’t take care of her. I thought I could, but I can’t.”

“Don’t even think about running away,” she said softly. His head jerked up, and his startled expression told her she had read his mind. “You’d break Peggy’s heart. And mine.”

Peggy’s head turned to the side, and she squirmed out of Jane’s embrace. Adam was striding across the yards, and the little girl ran to meet him. “See Ann Jane,” she-directed.

Adam swept her up in his arms, and she squealed with delight. “Yes, I see you found Aunt Jane.”

Jane stood as he walked toward her. She felt like she was seeing him for the first time, seeing him for who he was, not what she had been taught to see. What she saw made her heart skip. He was handsome, as she had noticed before, but the kindness that she had never let herself believe seemed so obvious to her now.

He joined them by the back door, hugging Peggy again before he set her on her feet to follow her wandering kitten. “Did they tell you about Mr. and Mrs. Dobbs?”

“A little,” Jane said. She noticed Johnny shied away, as if he expected to be blamed for something. She wondered if he had been less than truthful about their reason for rejecting Peggy.

Adam sighed. “They weren’t what we hoped for.”

He hesitated a moment. “I hate to ask this, but could the children stay here this afternoon? I’ve got a call and it sounds like another case of the flu. I had two yesterday and heard of a few more. It’s nothing too serious, but I don’t want them exposed.”

“Of course,” Jane said. “Is there anything I can do?”

Adam laughed. “Are you going to make enough chicken soup for the whole town?”

She tried not to smile. “I just might.”

“Well, don’t. Not yet, because the whole town isn’t sick. I need to run. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He turned to Johnny. “Help watch your sister, all right?”

Johnny wasn’t quite fast enough to avoid the squeeze on his shoulder. It didn’t seem to be what he was expecting.

As Adam started back across the yard, Peggy ran after him. “Docka Hart!”

Adam stopped and crouched before her. He gave her a hug and whispered something in her ear. She nodded. He turned her around and gave her a light
pat on the back. She skipped off after her kitten. As he stood, he waved to Jane and Johnny.

Jane found herself staring after him long after he had gone back inside. It was Johnny who brought her back to her senses. “You wantin’ a hug goodbye, too?”

Jane felt her cheeks flame. “Johnny!”

He laughed. “You look at Dr. Hart like Nonny looks at a bowl a cream.”

I
t was George who mentioned the flu at dinner. He had heard of several cases from people coming into the bank. There was even a rumor, he said, that it was really cholera. “They’ve canceled church services this morning,” he added.

Adam shook his head. “No, it’s just influenza. Rumors could cause a panic worse than the disease itself.”

“I’ve heard there have been three deaths,” George added before suggesting that the platter of beef be passed around again.

Adam wondered if this was another rumor or if there were deaths he didn’t know about. He was still new here, and not everyone trusted doctors. “There’s been one death. The elder Mr. Bartlett.”

He glanced around the table. The Cartland sisters and young Ferris Wood were watching him with alarm. Bickford didn’t look quite as bored as usual.
Jane was trying to distract the children from the conversation and listen to it at the same time.

“I didn’t hear names,” George admitted. “Bartlett was an old man. He had to die of something.”

“Well, yes,” Adam conceded. “Influenza is always hardest on the elderly, very young and those already weakened by some other cause.”

George poured gravy on another scoop of potatoes. “I’ve already heard speculation that the orphans brought the disease, and it spread at that gathering.”

He gave a quick glance toward Peggy, and Adam realized folks would remember her falling ill during the presentation. It didn’t help that she was in his care. Some might hesitate to seek his advice because of Peggy.

Certain someone would come to his home carrying the illness, Adam asked Jane to keep the children all the time. He discovered rather quickly that he missed them. He was often out on a call at mealtime, but stopped in to see them once or twice a day if at all possible. He told Jane that he needed to make sure Johnny was staying out of trouble. He admitted to himself that he was missing Jane as well.

He had worried that the children would wear Jane out, but she seemed to be holding up better than he was. She never complained about them. In fact, from her reports one would think they were perfect angels. Johnny occasionally admitted to some minor mischief, as if Jane were ruining his reputation.

Every day, Adam noticed additions to Johnny’s wardrobe or Peggy’s basket of toys, starting with a set of painted blocks. By midweek Johnny was wearing shoes and carrying around a reading primer. Adam hadn’t thought to wonder if Johnny could read, but Jane evidently had.

Called away at all hours of the day and night, Adam left a notice on his door as to whose house he was visiting. Often he was tracked down and taken directly from one home to another. He gave up horseback riding and rented a buggy so he could sleep on the way back to town.

Jane was so grateful for the children. She worried about Adam anyway, of course, but not with the overwhelming anxiety she might have. Johnny and Peggy simply kept her too busy. Peggy was a very happy, energetic child. It was a bit of a challenge to keep her occupied.

Johnny had his moments of restlessness, as well. Jane tried to give him a few responsibilities to make him feel needed, but he was quick to detect any that were unnecessary. Shopping for her seemed to be his greatest joy. The first time she handed him a few coins and asked
him
to run to the store for something, he hadn’t been able to hide his surprise. Now she tried to forget at least one important item when she shopped.

Each time she set the table, she wondered if Adam would be there to eat with them. When he wasn’t, she kept food warm on the stove, in case he came
later. If he hadn’t arrived by the children’s bedtime, she and the children took dinner to his kitchen, lit a fire in his stove and left the food there.

When he did join them, he told of homes smelling of onions, which were supposed to cleanse the atmosphere, of children sleeping in the same bed as their sick siblings, and of mothers, exhausted from caring for ill children, taking to their beds with even worse cases of the disease.

Jane wished for it to be over. When she took the children with her to shop, she noticed worried glances leveled at Peggy. It wouldn’t be long until the children noticed them, too. Other children were no longer allowed to play in her backyard. Though she knew this was wise, that children together were likely to pass the flu around, she also knew it was primarily because of Peggy that the children weren’t allowed to come.

One morning, a week into the epidemic, Ferris didn’t come down for breakfast. No one seemed particularly alarmed. “It’s Sunday.” George said. “He doesn’t have to work today.”

Much as a young man his age might like to sleep, Jane knew he also liked to eat. She couldn’t recall a single meal he had missed since he had arrived. When the others were finished, she left Johnny in charge of Peggy and went up to Ferris’s room.

Her light tap on the door got no response. She knocked louder and heard a groan. Perhaps Ferris had been out celebrating the previous night and was
paying the price this morning. But that didn’t sound like Ferris.

Jane opened the door a crack. “We missed you at breakfast,” she said gently, mindful that he might have a headache.

He groaned again. “I’d rather die than eat,” he said plaintively. “Did the doctor come to breakfast?”

“No, I’m sorry. He’ll be around sometime today, I’m sure. You’ve caught the flu, haven’t you?”

Ferris nodded weakly.

Jane stepped up to the bed and placed a hand on the young man’s forehead, gauging his temperature.

“I’ll bring you some water and a cool cloth.”.

He nodded again.

Poor Ferris was not much more than a boy. and far away from his family. She left him and returned to her kitchen.

“Ferris is sick,” she told the children. “Play as quietly as you can and don’t go upstairs.”

“Upstairs?” Johnny was incredulous. “With them Cartland women livin’ up there, you couldn’t make me go up them stairs. Peggy neither.”

Peggy shook her head. “Neither.”

“Good,” Jane said. “It wouldn’t be fun to be sick like Ferris.”

“It wouldn’t be fun to be chased away by them Cartland women, neither.”

“Neither!” Peggy said.

Jane checked on Ferris several times as the day
passed. By midafternoon, Peggy started to ask after Adam every few minutes, needing to be reassured that “Docka Hart” wasn’t gone forever.

Jane set a place for Adam at the table, but none for Ferris. The Cartlands noticed immediately. “He’s down with the flu,” Jane told them.

“The flu! My dear woman,” Nedra said, “we should have been told.”

“I don’t know what you could have done,” Jane said, knowing there was little chance she would volunteer to sit with the boy.

“Done?” chimed in Naomi. “We would have left.”

“Left?” Jane found herself holding her breath. The others, including George, were standing beside their chairs waiting for the women to be seated.

“We most assuredly can’t stay here,” Nedra agreed.

“We must pack up at once.”

They eyed the table a moment, then reached a decision simultaneously, taking their places. They weren’t in so big a hurry to leave as to pass up dinner.

Jane took her seat also, casting a questioning glance at George. He knew how important it was that they stay.

“I don’t think you need to do anything hasty,” he said. “Besides, where would you go?”

“We may just go to Ames,” Naomi said. “There’s a hotel there. We might take our business
there, as well. The prospects here haven’t been what we were hoping for, anyway.”

Nedra immediately agreed. “We can pack up after dinner and still catch the evening train.”

It must have been worry that brought to Jane’s lips exactly what she was thinking. “Isn’t it nice you never got around to ordering any merchandise for your shop? So much easier to move this way.”

The women looked at her, aghast. George chuckled and tried to cover it with a cough. “Five miles isn’t far enough to escape the flu, ladies. You might end up next door to another case.”

“Might
is the key word,” Naomi said. “Here it’s definite. Besides, at the hotel we won’t be eating with the carrier.” She leveled her glare at Peggy, who stared back, horrified. Johnny bent and whispered in his sister’s ear. They both giggled, and Peggy went back to her dinner. Naomi’s eyes narrowed, and she gave an audible sniff.

Jane ate the rest of the meal in silence. There were

no words she could think of to make the Cartlands change their minds, especially after her own remark. By the time they had finished dessert, the ladies had talked themselves into believing they were about to embark on an adventure as grand as their original move to Clyde.

Two empty rooms. Jane’s budget had not allowed for this. It would be difficult, but perhaps not impossible, to make the next payment. She could rely on her own garden a little more and save at the
grocer’s. But she would have to fill those two rooms as soon as possible.

George lingered a moment after the boarders had gone. “There’s no need to worry, Jane,” he said.

She assumed he was speaking of their vulnerability to the flu. No, she and the children were healthy. They would be fine.

Jane sent the children out to play in the yard and took some broth up to Ferris. She had a feeling the boy would have liked her to stay with him, and she did for as long as she felt she could. She considered moving him downstairs, to Grams’s old sickroom, but didn’t want him that close to the children. After feeding him as much broth as he would take, and sponging off his fevered face, she placed the cool cloth across his forehead and left, promising to return soon.

She was half finished with the dishes when she heard the Cartlands on the stairs. She dried her hands and went to see them off, determined to collect half a month’s rent. They had the money ready, figured to the day.

“We’ll send someone over for the trunks,” Nedra said.

That was as much of a farewell as they were going to give Jane. She tried to be gracious and wished them luck.

They were no sooner out the door than Lawrence Bickford descended the stairs, his suitcase in hand.

“You’re leaving also?” she asked in surprise.

“Naomi convinced me.”

Of course. Jane should have thought of that.

Bickford at least had included a small tip in his payment. “The school board has postponed the opening of classes because of the epidemic. I’ll return before the term begins,” he said.

She wouldn’t be here by then, she thought. The loss of his rent left too much of a hole in her finances. The bank would own the building in approximately two weeks. Her revenge, she thought, could be applying for his job, but that wasn’t really what she wanted.

Disconsolate, she returned to the kitchen. What else could she have done? She couldn’t have turned poor Ferris out. The boy had no one to count on except for her and George.

The children came in as it started to get dark. They had been waiting for Adam, she learned, missing him as much as she was.

“Docka Hart gone,” Peggy said sadly.

Johnny rolled his eyes. “You can’t explain nothin’ to her.”

“He’ll come back,” Jane said, lifting the child. But she was worried, too. What if he had fallen ill somewhere, perhaps along a lonely road? Peggy must have felt some of her distress because she put her head on Jane’s shoulder and started to cry.

“Brother!” Johnny grabbed his book and sat down at the kitchen table. “She used to be fine when
it was just us. Now she’s got to have everybody she knows right beside her all the time.”

“She’s only little,” Jane said, rocking the sobbing child, wanting to cry as well. Her home, her business were gone. Her last boarder was upstairs sick and lonely. Adam had been gone all day. She was worried about him, she wanted to tell him all her troubles and she just plain wanted to see him again.

“Docka Hart gone!” Peggy wailed.

“Shut up, you stupid baby!”

“Johnny,” Jane admonished gently. The strain was wearing on him, too. “Babies only cry louder if you tell them to shut up.”

Peggy was willingly proving her point.

“Will she shut up if I tell her to cry louder? She’s hurtin’ my ears.”

“What’s all this?”

Adam. Jane nearly wilted in relief. She hadn’t heard the door open and close for all the noise. “Look who’s here,” she said, wiping her hand across Peggy’s damp face.

Peggy let out three more shuddering sobs as she reached for Adam. He took her from Jane, murmuring softly, “What’s the great tragedy?”

“Docka Hart gone,” she whimpered.

“Oh, that. When Johnny goes missing at least you’re quiet.”

Peggy clung to him, her face at the crook of his neck. Jane wanted to lean on the other shoulder and
cry, too. She smiled at him, instead. It was good to see him, but he looked even worse than she felt. She couldn’t burden him with her troubles after the day he must have had.

“Sit down. I’ll get you some dinner.”

He sat across from Johnny with Peggy nestled in his lap. Jane listened to them talk about the reading primer while she warmed up the chicken, potatoes and gravy she had saved.

It was wonderful to have Adam in her kitchen. It felt as if he had set everything to rights again. She knew he hadn’t, of course. She had still lost her boarders, and unless a miracle happened, she would lose the house soon, as well.

But the children had both been upset a moment ago. She had felt a wave of desperation herself. Now Johnny was proudly pointing out which letters he had learned and the few words he could recognize, and Peggy was giggling and playing Adam’s echo. For the moment it felt like they were a family. Almost home. Like the name of her boardinghouse, it wasn’t quite the real thing.

She set Adam’s dinner in front of him. He thanked her as he helped Peggy slide off his lap. “Get Aunt Jane a chair,” he said to Johnny.

“Have mine,” Johnny said, very politely. He sat down on the floor near his sister’s basket of toys and stuck his nose in his book.

“How was your day?” Adam asked.

It was so much in keeping with Jane’s fantasy that
she almost laughed. “Not good, but I’ll wager yours was worse. You look terrible.”