Concealing Grace (The Grace Series Book 1) (34 page)

“Riding, I believe,” Ruth said.

This was surprising because Jon knew they were expecting company. “Where’s Ditter?” she asked.

“At home. He’s not feeling well,” Ruth said. “He’s caught an awful cold. The captain said he should stay in bed and rest.”

Jessica’s jaw dropped open. She couldn’t believe it. “Where’s Herlin?” she asked.

“In da stables takin’ care o’ yer fader’s horse an’ buggy,” Martha said.

“Oh yes, of course.” Jessica was still flustered. “I know we talked about this before, but I hope you will be able to enjoy Christmas yourselves. I hope you will spend some time with your families today.”

“We’s goin’ to, Miss Jessica,” Martha said.

“Please tell Ditter I hope he feels better,” she told Ruth. But then, as she turned to head back to the parlor, her ire rose. Through the kitchen window she spotted Jon. He was on Webster, heading toward the house from the direction of the cabins. And Ditter was there, too, hurrying after the big horse.

Shortly thereafter, Jon came into the parlor apologizing profusely for being out when her father and brother arrived. Once the greetings were exchanged, Jon moved to join Jessica on the sofa. Before he sat down, he leaned over to kiss her cheek. Jessica allowed the kiss, but only because she didn’t want to make a scene.

Having Jon with them didn’t turn out as badly as Jessica thought it would. That is, it wasn’t too awful until Ditter came in with eggnog and coffee. Right after he set the tray down, he turned his head and coughed. Jon didn’t say anything, but the sneer on his face made it clear he was ready to chastise the poor man.

At one point, her father and Jon were discussing literature and Jon said, “Come to my study. I’ll show you the collection.”

As soon as her father and Jon were out of the room, Trent moved to sit beside her. “Jessie, you look so sad. Should I be worried about you?”

Jessica forced a smile. “I’m fine, Trent. Will you sing if I play?”

Before the war, before Luther sold the piano, they sang carols together every year at Christmastime, not only to entertain their parents, but Maybell, Titus and Sammy, too. Her brother’s voice was deeper than she remembered. He sounded wonderful. For the first time that day, Jessica could say she was truly enjoying herself.

Trent remarked, “Brings back memories, doesn’t it?”

Knowing he was thinking along the same nostalgic lines caused her to smile even more. But, of course, her father and Jon returned, and when they did the music ended.

Her father said, “We brought all these presents. Shouldn’t we open them?”

One at a time they began to unwrap the packages. Laughter, good cheers and thank you’s circulated through the room between Luther, Trent and Jon. Jessica opened the packages from her father and brother, but she left the ones from Jon under the tree. There were two of them. One was a small box she presumed was jewelry and the other was rectangular and about an inch thick. By the size and shape, she guessed it was a book.

Trent pointed to them and said, “Jessie, those are yours. Aren’t you going to open them?”

“I will, later,” she said.

Shortly thereafter, Ditter announced dinner was served. Ruth and Martha had outdone themselves with a most succulent ham, accompanied by a myriad of side dishes. Jessica prayed fervently that Jon would find nothing amiss with the meal, and he didn’t appear to. He ate heartily and smiled all the while.

Her father, however, was the one with the concentrated brow. He glanced back and forth between her and Jon repeatedly. Jessica was about to ask him if something was wrong, when he said tentatively, “So, you two, how much longer ’til there’s someone in this world who will address me as Grandpa?”

If it weren’t for Jon, Jessica would have laughed at her father’s way of putting it. She could feel her husband’s eyes on her, but he didn’t respond to the question. It was up to her to make the announcement. “About six more months,” she said shyly.

Utter silence followed. Jessica could have sworn her father had tears in his eyes. And Trent was staring at her like he expected her to keel over. His expression almost made her giggle.

Jon picked up his wine, held it up and said softly, “To my beautiful wife, who has given me the greatest gift. I am so in awe, so humbled, so proud, and so honored. My gratitude knows no bounds.” Turning to Jessica directly, he lowered his voice even more and added, “Thank you, Sweetheart, for making all of my dreams come true. I love you very much.”

“Here, here!” her father bellowed, raising his own glass.

“This is just too strange,” Trent chimed in. “I can’t imagine my baby sister having a baby of her own. Congratulations, Jessie.”

A lot of hugs and kisses and pats on the back followed, and there were plenty of guffaws and giggles, too. Jon, Jessica noticed, was the only one of them who didn’t laugh.

In the evening, after saying their farewells to her father and brother, Jessica went to the parlor to retrieve her shawl. As she turned to leave, Jon was standing in the entrance, blocking her way.

“Won’t you open your gifts?” he asked.

“I don’t want them,” she retorted. “Excuse me.”

Jon stepped aside so she could pass. Ditter was there, as he’d been all day, standing at his post. Martha and Ruth were still in the kitchen cleaning up. Herlin was outside. He’d just brought her father’s buggy around. None of them took time with their families.

Earlier in the day, there had been a moment Jessica felt badly about it, but no longer. She gave gifts to the children, the servants, her father and brother. She gave nothing to Jon. The only presents he received came from Luther and Trent.

“I can’t believe you made Ditter work today,” she said curtly as she brushed by him. “The poor man is ill.”

* * *

“Please tell your wife, thank you again for the wonderful meal and the company,” Sebastian said as he climbed out of the buggy.

He’d just spent the better part of Christmas day with a nice family from the congregation. To get there, he walked. Because it was late and dark, the husband insisted upon driving him home.

Rather than going in through the front of his house, he went around to the gate. Before turning in for the night, he needed to check on Apostle and feed his chickens. Those chores didn’t take long. Soon enough, with lantern in hand, he made his way from the barn to the back door of the parsonage. But, just as he reached the steps, he stopped short. Perched against the old, paint peeling door was a thick, rectangular parcel wrapped in brown paper.

Threats from the Klan were an almost weekly occurrence. Six window panes in the parsonage had been broken. Sebastian and the owner of the mercantile shared a running joke about keeping the mercantile in business from all the glass he would have to order. Twice, rotten eggs were thrown at the house. Cleaning the mess off in the frozen weather wasn’t easy. He also received a number of letters threatening his life, all of which were signed simply, ‘SSS’. He made an obligatory complaint to the police, but as expected, they told him they could do nothing unless whoever was bullying him was caught in the act.

The week before Christmas he discovered a wrapped parcel on his front stoop. At first, assuming it was a gift from someone in the congregation, he was touched. And then he opened it to find a box filled with horse manure. A second package was left in the same spot a few days later. This one he approached with more caution. Sebastian had never considered himself to be a squeamish man, but when he uncovered the rotting, bloody carcass of a rabbit, he almost vomited.

Some of the ladies in his congregation gave him nice things, mostly food, pies and cookies. One of them knitted him a sweater. Stephanie Dunn brought him chocolates. These gifts made the threats from the Klan seem menial. As he told himself often, he wasn’t afraid of a bunch of clowns.

Nevertheless, the parcel at the back entrance of his house irked him. Whoever left it there had the gall to trespass through the gate onto the parsonage property. Because he just came through it himself, he knew the gate was securely locked. Whoever left the package had jumped the fence.

Anticipating something foul, Sebastian decided not to take it into his house. He set the lantern down on the porch and removed his gloves. Without touching the box itself, he ripped away the envelope fastened to it. The note inside read, ‘For Jessica Kinsley. From Reverend Nash’.

“Hmmph,” he grunted. He could only assume the gift was for him from Jessica, and she accidentally miss-worded the note. But a second look at the heavy, pointed strokes of the penmanship gave him pause. He didn’t know Jessica’s handwriting, but he was almost certain this was written by a man. And Jessica wouldn’t have climbed the parsonage fence.

Sebastian was sure this was another of the Klan’s pranks. If they caught wind of what Jessica Kinsley was doing for the children at Bent Oak Manor, he wouldn’t put it past them to terrorize her. He would be damned if he were to pass this along to her, for her to find a dead animal. Angered that the Klan would do something so low, he grabbed up the box. He was going to throw it in the barrel to burn with the rest of his trash, but the heavy weight of it surprised him. It felt like a book—a book without a cover. Curiously, he ripped the brown paper away. What he held in his hands wasn’t a book. It was a stack of musical manuscripts. There were dozens of them. And he noticed something else.

On the porch, beneath where the parcel had been was a second envelope. Sebastian set the manuscripts aside and reached for it. The note read, “Please do not tell Jessica how these came to be in your possession. She will not accept them unless you tell her they are from you.”

There was no signature.

* * *

Jessica didn’t notice the cold at all as she hurried Jasmine along. Her mind was so euphorically preoccupied with the great feats of the spook, and her prevailing suspicions of who he was, she was unable to maintain her excitement. If she was right, and she was almost certain she was, very shortly she would be in the company of the infamous character himself. The moment the church and parsonage came into view, her heartbeat doubled.

Reverend Nash’s greeting was as amiable as always. He led her to his parlor, then left her to retrieve refreshments. The tray he returned with contained a teapot, two cups and an assortment of cookies. The cookies, he told her, were compliments of the church organist, Mrs. Wingate. As soon as he was seated on the sofa across from her, Jessica jumped up to give him the package she brought. Crinkling her nose apologetically, she said, “Merry Christmas. I suppose I should say better late than never.”

Reverend Nash laughed. “I am a little behind in my gift giving, too,” he said. “I have something for you as well. I’ll be right back.”

To think he thought enough of her to have a present for her was overwhelming. She was even more stunned by the fairly big, wrapped parcel he handed her. Her first assumption was that it was a book, and it reminded her somewhat of the package she refused to open from Jon. This one, however, was much thicker and heavier than that one.

“You go first,” she said.

“Alright.” He grinned as he unlaced the bow and tore into the wrapping.

Jessica studied him, hoping to see some sign in his expression that would indicate he realized why the scarf was entirely black. But she couldn’t tell. He did, however, seem very pleased with it.

“How nice! This is beautiful!” he exclaimed. “Did you knit it yourself?”

She nodded.

“I can’t thank you enough. This is just what I needed. My old scarf is worn out,” he said. “Now it’s your turn.”

Upon discovering the stack of piano music, Jessica audibly gasped. “Thank you so much!” Eagerly she fingered through the pile. It wasn’t until she came to the very last one that her smile faded and she murmured, “How did you know?”

The last score in the stack was a mass by Mozart. Several times she asked the proprietor of the music store to order it for her. The man promised he would, but every time she went back to the store for it, he said he’d forgotten. The only person she ever told she wanted this piece was Jon. She could only assume it had finally come in and Reverend Nash happened upon it when he purchased the scores for her.

Looking up, she noticed the reverend regarding her closely. His response to her question was a nonchalant shrug.

“You couldn’t have given me a better gift,” she told him.

“I want you to know you have inspired me,” he said. “Not only me, but you have inspired Sam—Reverend Amos—too. After the first of the year some of the older children from Shanty Town will be coming here to the church for school. Sam is starting a school for the younger ones.”

Thrilled beyond belief, Jessica blurted, “You’re going to teach them! Oh, how wonderful! You are a great man, Reverend.”

Modestly, he chuckled. “I wouldn’t say that. I’m sure I won’t be nearly as fine a teacher as you are. The truth is, I’ve never tried to teach anyone anything before, and I’m quite nervous. So please help! I am desperate for your advice.”

“I’m no great teacher,” Jessica admitted. “Half the time I’m not sure what I’m doing. I’m figuring it out as I go.” Because of his insightful inquiries, she went on to tell him of some of the difficulties she’d encountered with her students and the creative methods she employed to help them learn.