Daylight Comes (12 page)

As she descended the final stair, the front door opened. Truth heaved a sigh of relief when she saw her husband walk in. Before Moses could say a word, she took her cloak from a carved hook in the entryway and steered him back outdoors.

“Trying to take me captive or merely attempting to escape the Thanksgiving preparations?” His soft brown eyes twinkled.

Truth quelled his grin with a chiseled scowl. “Move over here, away from the windows.” She pulled him along to a spot on the far side of the porch. “I don’t want anyone listening to our conversation.”

His forehead creased with narrow wrinkles. “The windows are closed, Truth. No one can hear us.”

“You’d be surprised what people can accomplish when they’re determined. Aunt Lilly is proof of that. I understand she’s secured quite a bargain for our living quarters, made an excellent deal on the purchase of a building for her new business, and will be living with us.” Truth folded her arms across her chest and jutted her chin—fair warning that she’d heard all that had occurred in Topeka and wasn’t happy about it.

“I don’t believe standing out here in the cold on Thanksgiving Day is the time or place to discuss any of these matters. Let’s—”

“When
is
the proper time, Moses? You asked me to wait until morning to hear about your trip, and so I waited. Then this morning you departed without even telling me farewell, and now I find that Jarena knows more about my future than I do.”

“I can’t change what’s already happened. If it will salve your disappointment, we can go into my library and I’ll tell you all that occurred.” He gently held her chin between his index finger and thumb and leaned toward her. “You could have gone with me; then you would have been able to tell all the news instead of Lilly.”

As they gathered around the table and bowed their heads in prayer, Truth felt her shoulders droop. She had vowed this would be a day without harsh words or petty arguments. She had failed. Instead of harmony, discord abounded with both her sister and her husband. And though Moses’s soothing words of encouragement in the library had temporarily eased her pain, she remained unhappy. News of the house-hunting journey should have come to her first—not Jarena. Jarena, who now favored Lilly above her sisters. Jarena, who wanted her to give Lilly a chance. Jarena, who now refused to care for their house in Nicodemus. Truth had failed to mention that particular fact to Moses during their private conversation. He would find out soon enough.

CHAPTER
14

Hill City , Kansas
•
Thanks giving Day , 1882

M
acia pivoted in front of her bedroom mirror, hoping to view her new dress to full advantage. Convinced Fern would delight in damaging the gown, Macia had been careful to keep it hidden away until today. The dress boasted a green velvet-trimmed cuirass bodice and skirt that tightly hugged the front of her body, while the huge bustle at the back amplified her hidden backside. She hadn’t decided if she liked this most recent style. Instead of her legs being demurely hidden beneath hoops, a strong wind would reveal the contours of her body. The populace of Hill City would likely think the dress unseemly, and her father would undoubtedly agree. However, she’d probably gain Garrett’s approval.

She tucked her watch into the pocket of the dress and wondered what Jeb would think. Would he find the dress beguiling or think her attire too worldly? In any case, his attention would be devoted to Fern as she scurried about serving the meal. Macia grimaced at the thought: how could he possibly find someone like Fern appealing?

She took one final look in the mirror as a knock sounded at the front door. Lucy! She’d told her to come early and they’d set the table together. After Fern’s complaints regarding her busy schedule with the meal preparation, her father had offered Macia’s services for answering the door. Although Macia had quickly agreed and had also offered to set the table, Fern remained disgruntled. Nothing seemed to please her, and Macia wondered if Jeb would find her difficult to live with once they wed. But then, why should she care if Fern made Jeb’s life difficult? Even more disturbing, why did she continue to think about Jeb?

She opened the front door. Lucy stood before her in her Sunday dress, her blond hair perfectly curled and held in place with the dazzling combs that had belonged to her now deceased mother.

Pulling the girl into a warm embrace, Macia complimented Lucy on her lovely appearance. She lightly touched one of the combs. “I see you’ve learned to manage these combs in excellent fashion. Your hair is perfect.”

“Only because you taught me how to use the combs.” Lucy beamed as she reached to finger one of the jeweled adornments. “I don’t wear them except for very special occasions.”

After hanging her coat, Macia took Lucy by the hand and led her to the dining room. “Come sit and talk to me. I promised to set the dining table.”

The two of them chatted while Macia removed her mother’s French dinnerware from the glass-fronted china cabinet. While Lucy arranged the plates, Macia retrieved crystal goblets from the shelf and began to position one at each place. They’d not yet arranged the silverware when Fern burst through the doorway. With her hands on her hips and elbows jutted outward like arrows, she loomed more than a little unfriendly. In fact, she looked downright hostile.

Lucy’s smile faded at the sight. “Hello, Fern. We’re setting the table.”

“I’m not blind. I can see what you’re doing. Amazing that it takes two of you to set the table, but I have no help preparing the entire meal.” Her disdain hung in the air like a blanket of dense fog.

Macia noted the pained expression on Lucy’s face. Why did Fern take such pleasure in hurting the girl? “You are paid a handsome sum to prepare meals and perform household chores,” Macia stated. “Perhaps you should complete your duties with the same enthusiasm you demonstrate when you receive your pay envelope.”

Fern didn’t seem to hear the retort—she was staring directly at Lucy’s flawlessly styled hair. “What are you doing wearing my combs?” she demanded, reaching for one of the shimmering combs tucked into the girl’s hair. Lucy quickly tilted her head to one side and took a backward step.

Stunned by Fern’s shameful behavior, Macia grabbed her wrist before she could get the comb. “What are you doing? Those aren’t your combs.”

Fern wrested her arm away and glared at Macia. “They will be on the day I marry Jeb. Until then, I want them secured at the house, not in Lucy’s hair.”

“They will
not
be yours. After Mama died, Jeb said they were mine. I’m not giving them to you, and Jeb won’t make me.” Lucy ran from the room, her blond curls waving back and forth as though bidding a sad farewell.

Macia angrily inhaled and exhaled and then followed after the girl, easily finding her by the woeful cries that emanated from the hallway linen closet. Opening the door, she sat on the floor and beckoned Lucy into her outstretched arms. “Come here, Lucy.” She folded the girl into an embrace and lovingly held her close. “There’s no need to worry. Jeb would never go back on his word to you about the combs.”

Lucy’s chest heaved in an attempt to hold back further tears. “I’m going to tell Jeb what she said as soon as he gets here.” She hiccoughed several times in rapid succession.

After tucking a curl behind Lucy’s ear, Macia cupped the girl’s face and looked deep into her teary blue eyes. “I don’t think that’s a wise decision, Lucy. Usually, I find it’s best to wait a while before I discuss something that has hurt or upset me. If you want to talk to Jeb, why don’t you wait until you go home after Thanksgiving dinner?

I think it would be more judicious if you talked to him in private.”

“Where Fern can’t possibly overhear our conversation.” Lucy folded her arms and momentarily contemplated the suggestion.

“You’re probably right. I don’t want to cause a scene and ruin your wonderful Thanksgiving plans.” Her shoulders rose and fell in a non- chalant shrug. “I’ll do as you ask, but Fern can finish setting the table herself.”

While they awaited the dinner guests, Macia showed Lucy various picture postcards of the European cities she had visited and regaled the girl with more stories of her travels, hoping to erase the earlier encounter with Fern.

When a knock sounded at the front door, Macia commenced gathering up the postcards and waved Lucy toward the doorway. “Why don’t you take over duties at the front door? I’m certain Fern won’t leave the kitchen. I’ll join you as soon as I’ve put these away.”

Lucy jumped up, and Macia could hear her footfalls as the girl hurried downstairs. Macia hoped she’d been correct in assuming Fern would expect someone else to answer the door. The thought gave her pause. Scooping up the remaining cards, she tossed them onto her bed. Better to follow Lucy and make sure all remained calm downstairs.

Once she saw that her father was back home after an unexpected house call on one of his ailing patients, Macia heaved a sigh of relief. In addition, her mother’s voice drifted from the kitchen as she issued final instructions to Fern. With others in the house and the last-minute preparations in full swing, Macia could finally relax. Fern wouldn’t dare create an incident in front of the family and their guests. Jeb had arrived and was seated in the parlor beside Lucy. Macia strained to listen as Lucy told Jeb about Europe and the postcards, pleased when she heard no mention of their earlier encounter with Fern.

Before she could offer Jeb a cup of cider, Garrett arrived at the front door, cradling a pumpkin pie in his palm. His aunt and uncle followed close behind, each one carrying a substantial food offering for the Thanksgiving meal.

Lucy hung their wraps in the hallway, and Mr. and Mrs. Johnson quickly settled in the parlor while Macia and Garrett delivered the food to the kitchen. They entered the parlor in time to hear Macia’s mother explain the Faradays had sent word they wouldn’t be in attendance.

“Not illness, I hope,” Mrs. Johnson ventured.

Macia sat down on the arm of her father’s chair. “Mrs. Faraday sent her regrets with her son. I didn’t question him.”

“Rather rude, I’d say. Sending word at the last minute without any explanation.” Mrs. Johnson adjusted the ruffles that surrounded her collar.

Mrs. Boyle entwined her fingers in her lap. “I find that a few more or less guests at a holiday meal doesn’t change matters much.”

“True. I suppose I’m somewhat disappointed,” Mrs. Johnson said.

“I had hoped I might get to know the family a bit more intimately.

They do act a bit standoffish.”

Macia decided that the Faradays were fortunate they hadn’t arrived for dinner. It sounded as though Mrs. Johnson had been prepared to interrogate the lot of them.

Soon the conversation grew lively, and Macia marveled at the transformation in her mother. Her cheeks took on a rosy glow, and she seemed years younger as she played the perfect hostess to their visitors.

Although her mother had placed carefully scripted place cards at each setting, she still directed her guests to their seats like a conductor preparing his orchestra. Macia nearly gasped aloud when she realized her mother had placed her between Garrett and Jeb. And although she briefly attempted to switch Lucy and Jeb, her mother’s cautionary frown warned against any such change in her plans. Her mother insisted upon her guests being seated man-woman-man-woman in order to maintain harmonious conversation.

As the guests circled the table, Fern moved forward and stepped down hard atop Macia’s right foot. Macia yelped and danced on her left foot as she struggled to maintain her balance. Fern’s features immediately tightened into a mask of concern. “I’m so sorry, Miss Macia. I forgot something in the kitchen and didn’t watch where I was going.”

Macia did not fail to notice the satisfied gleam that filled the girl’s dark eyes. But Macia would not ruin her mother’s party by confronting Fern now.

Garrett assisted her into her chair. Though her foot ached, Macia forced a brave facade and waved aside her father’s offer to see if any bones were broken. “Let’s proceed,” Macia encouraged. “After all of Fern’s hard work, I wouldn’t want to be the cause of a cold Thanksgiving dinner.”

“How kind of you.” Though Fern’s reply dripped with sarcasm, the others appeared oblivious.

Macia noted the servant didn’t leave the room in order to retrieve the mysterious forgotten item from the kitchen. When they were finally seated, her father offered thanks for the many blessings bestowed upon all of them throughout the past year and then nodded to Fern. She moved to the end of the table and began passing dish after dish to Mrs. Boyle. As each of the bowls and platters circled the table in succession, they were handed back to Fern, who methodically set them on the heavily laden sideboard.

As Garrett prepared to pass the gravy boat to Macia, Fern swooped between them and took the dish. “This needs to be refilled. I’ll be back in only a moment.”

Though Macia didn’t argue, she thought the contents of the bowl were more than sufficient to serve the few remaining guests. Everyone at the table continued to serve themselves, and soon Fern returned to the room. As Fern reached between Garrett and Macia, her wrist gave way and hot turkey gravy streamed down the front and side of Macia’s gown in thick rivulets. Macia yelped as she grabbed her napkin and began to daub the mess. Her gown was ruined!

Righting the bowl, Fern gasped in mock horror. “Oh, I am terribly sorry. I should have used my right hand. I have a weakness in my left wrist.”

Macia seethed. The apology was an outrageous lie to cover this latest occurrence of inexcusable behavior. She slapped the napkin onto the table and jumped up from her chair. “Don’t you
dare
attempt to excuse your shoddy behavior as due to a weak wrist. Where was that weak wrist when you were lifting the mashed potatoes or the turkey platter? Why don’t you tell the truth for once? You’re angry because I’m sitting beside Jeb, and you’re angry because I defended Lucy earlier in the day. However, nearly breaking my foot and ruining my dress is as much as I’m willing to withstand. You need to find employment elsewhere!”

Fern moved several steps nearer to Dr. Boyle. “I believe you are the one who hired me. Is your daughter in charge of this household?”

Without giving her father opportunity to reply, Macia took charge. “Lest you think me unfeeling, I have located an excellent position for you. Mr. and Mrs. Wyman will be departing for Topeka and are in need of a housekeeper to look after their home in Nicodemus while they’re away.”

“Nicodemus?” Jeb and Fern uttered the question in unison.

Macia glanced about the table. Her mother’s rosy cheeks had turned ashen; Mr. and Mrs. Johnson stared at their plates as though they’d not seen or heard a thing; Jeb was leveling an icy glare upon her; Garrett appeared baffled; Lucy beamed with delight; and Harvey grinned as he looked around the table.

“Please be seated, Macia,” her father instructed. “We will continue this discussion after we’ve finished our meal.”

There was no use arguing. Her father’s tone made it clear he would brook no argument. So while the gravy seeped into the fabric of Macia’s gown, she forced down her dinner. The table was quiet, with everyone attempting to act as though nothing had occurred. A peek at the faces of their guests made it abundantly clear they longed to have any number of questions answered. Desserts were either refused or left half eaten on plates, and as tension mounted, Dr. Boyle asked Macia, the Johnsons, and the Malones to join him in the parlor.

Harvey excused himself, and Mrs. Boyle told the group she was going upstairs to rest.

Jeb immediately disagreed with Dr. Boyle’s decision to exclude the housekeeper. “If we’re going to talk about her future, she should be present and able to defend herself.”

“I’m attempting to keep matters from escalating into an argument, Jeb. I believe it would be best to handle the matter this way. I do plan to listen carefully to Fern’s explanations later.” He cast a disappointed look at Jeb. “I’m surprised you think I would do any less.” He focused on Jeb’s sister. “Lucy, I’d like to know what occurred earlier today— between you and Fern.”

Lucy detailed the event in a clear and concise manner, though her voice warbled at the mention of Fern’s angry attempt to remove the jeweled combs from her hair and claim them as her own. Jeb’s brow creased and his lips tightened into a thin line as his sister related the story. He glanced at Macia as though seeking affirmation. She nodded in agreement, and he quickly looked away, obviously distressed by what had been revealed.