Daylight Comes (15 page)
Nicodemus , Kansas
•
December 1882
Truth wasn’t expecting company this afternoon. She wiped her handkerchief across her forehead, tilted her head, and listened, hoping she’d misheard. She wasn’t at all prepared to receive guests. Her hair was in complete disarray, and her old dress was frayed around the collar. However, the attire served well enough for cleaning house or packing her belongings. Preparing to move seemed to consume at least part of each day lately, though she was careful not to lift the boxes or move any of the heavy furniture.
Attempting to decide which items she wanted to take with her, which items she would leave in the house, and which items she wanted to take but couldn’t yet pack was proving to be a monumental task.
She was leaning down to pick up a porcelain music box when the tapping resumed. This time the knocking persisted until she finally relented and answered the door.
Patting her hair into what she hoped was some semblance of order, she met the surprised stare of her unknown caller. The woman appeared deflated as she looked Truth up and down. “Looks like I’ve arrived too late for the housekeeping position. I thought Mrs. Wyman didn’t plan to fill the job until after the Christmas holidays.”
Truth frowned as she studied the woman. Obviously Fern didn’t recognize her. Of course, Truth had been dressed in her finery the day she called on Macia in Hill City. And Fern hadn’t given her any more than a fleeting glance before rushing off and leaving Truth to hang up her own cloak.
“I
am
Mrs. Wyman. Macia Boyle mentioned you might be seeking employment sometime in the future, Miss Kingston.” The woman’s cheeks suddenly turned rosy. Truth didn’t know if the occurrence was due to the cold weather or Fern’s recent blunder. Of course, what could Truth expect when she gave so little care to her clothing and hair? Any stranger would assume she was the housekeeper rather than the mistress of the house.
Rubbing her arms, Fern apologized and then peered into the hallway. “I hope she also mentioned I’m an excellent housekeeper. Could I step inside? It’s mighty cold standing in this wind and my coat’s not doing much in the way of keeping me warm in this bitter weather.”
Truth bid the woman come in and took her coat. Fern’s dress was more comely than her own. Little wonder the woman had thought she was the hired help. Leading her unexpected visitor into the parlor, Truth explained she and Moses would depart for Topeka after the Christmas holidays.
Fern arched her brows. “Then why do you want a housekeeper? Why not close the house?”
The question was valid—everyone else wondered the same thing. Although Moses had conceded to her wishes, even he thought the idea of a housekeeper rather preposterous. It was possible that her need to have a housekeeper during their absence would eventually subside, though she doubted whether such a time would ever arrive. Miss Hattie had accused her of turning the house into an idol, but Truth knew better. She viewed her position as that of a good steward charged to protect and care for the gift she’d received. Needless to say, Miss Hattie had brushed aside her argument as foolishness.
“This here’s a house, not a flock of sheep needin’ to be tended.”
The old woman’s words echoed in Truth’s thoughts as she continued to discuss the position with Fern.
“Although this is a large house, I realize time may grow heavy on your hands. I wouldn’t object if you wanted to work part time—perhaps take in seamstress work or the like.”
Fern wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think anyone would pay for my limited abilities with a needle. Since you’re granting permission to find additional work, am I to assume you would pay me less than the Boyles did?”
The woman was certainly forthright. Well, Truth could be forthright, also. “I have no idea what the Boyles paid for your services, Miss Kingston. Before we discuss wages, let me explain exactly what the job entails.”
When they’d finally completed their tour of the house and agreed upon a satisfactory wage, Fern folded her hands in her lap. “I know you hadn’t planned to hire a housekeeper until the end of December. But if you like, I could begin work today. I have my belongings with me, and surely you could use some assistance with all the packing. And I’d be happy to take over the cooking duties.”
Truth briefly considered waiting to discuss the idea with Moses. In fact, she wondered if she should visit further with Macia before hiring the woman. Fern had been somewhat vague when questioned about leaving the Boyles. And although Truth knew difficulties existed between Fern and Macia, she had expected Fern to be more forthcoming now.
She wondered if something more had gone amiss at the Boyle home. Macia knew Truth hadn’t planned to hire a housekeeper until the end of December. Nevertheless, she pushed aside her concerns and agreed to Fern’s offer. The entire concept seemed strange—a white woman cleaning and cooking for her. Yet Fern seemed not to care so long as she had a place to live and an income. In fact, she appeared quite pleased with the arrangement.
Scarcely able to believe her good fortune, Fern carried her bags upstairs and placed them in front of the oak wardrobe. This room was considerably larger than the one she’d occupied at the Boyles’, and the furnishings were lovely, also. As she hung her dresses in the large wardrobe, Fern decided Macia had actually done her a favor. Living in Nicodemus was going to prove financially beneficial—much more so than marrying Jeb Malone would have. Furthermore, she hadn’t loved him—he’d merely been a means to what she had hoped would be a better life, although she knew the marriage wouldn’t have lasted.
Jeb’s sniveling little sister had been more than she could bear when they were courting. If they had wed, Lucy would have come between them—of that she was convinced. Lucy had been patently clear: she wanted Jeb to marry Macia Boyle. Well, Macia could have him. Fern would have no trouble beginning anew.
Closing the wardrobe doors, she walked to the window and pulled aside the curtain. The possibilities were endless. She considered taking in several boarders after the Wymans departed. Likely Mrs. Wyman wouldn’t be pleased with such an idea, but if she rented to peddlers who were in and out of town, her idea might be successful. After all, the house was out of the way, and perhaps this town wasn’t filled with as many gossips as she’d encountered in Hill City. She dropped the curtain back in place. No need for an immediate decision. There would be ample time to consider her options prior to the end of the month. For the time being, she would act the perfect employee.
Truth met her at the bottom of the staircase. “Would you care to go to the general store and purchase some items I need? It would give you an opportunity to become acquainted with some of the folks in town.”
Fern hastily agreed. She’d enjoy nothing more. Yes indeed! As far as she was concerned, life had taken a turn in the proper direction. She embraced the feeling of self-satisfaction as she donned her coat. Her future appeared bright.
Lucy Malone’s presence had instilled new life in the Boyle household. Her liveliness and cheery personality infused all of them with renewed vigor. She regaled them with stories throughout the evening meal, and even Macia’s mother encouraged Lucy’s antics. Except for being faced with Jeb’s daily visits, Macia delighted in having Lucy nearby. The girl seemed to fill the void of the younger sister she’d always longed for. She’d nearly settled Lucy in the library with a book when Gerta announced Camille Faraday had come calling and she’d asked her to wait in the parlor.
Lucy closed the book, her eyes bright with anticipation. “Bring her in the library so we can all have a nice chat.”
“Let me ascertain the reason for Camille’s visit. She doesn’t normally arrive unexpectedly.” Macia patted the girl’s shoulder. “She may want to speak privately. Why don’t you begin reading?”
Though she appeared downcast by the idea of being left out, Lucy nodded. “Just don’t forget I’m in here by myself.”
Macia laughed. “How could
any
of us ever forget when you’re around, Lucy? You’re the one who keeps us smiling.”
Lucy beamed at the remark before turning her attention back to the pages of
Little Women
.
Macia couldn’t deny her own curiosity. Though she had attempted to develop a friendship with Camille, the girl had never appeared interested. Not that she’d been rude. But like the rest of her family, she appeared withdrawn and unwilling to develop any close relationships.
Although Mrs. Faraday had mentioned forming a ladies’ literary guild when the family first arrived, there’d been no further talk of the idea. Still, they’d not been in town for long. Perhaps she planned to wait until spring to embark upon the endeavor—not that Macia thought the idea held much merit. Mrs. Faraday would have more success hosting a quilting bee or Bible class.
Macia also hoped to find out exactly why the family hadn’t appeared for Thanksgiving dinner. Even her father hadn’t been able to elicit further information from Mr. Faraday.
“Camille! What a pleasant surprise. I see that Gerta has taken your coat. May I serve you a cup of tea?”
Camille wrung her hands. “No. But thank you for the kind offer.
I do hope I’m not intruding, but I’m in need of advice. I’m ever so worried about my family and I don’t know where to turn. Promise you’ll not tell my family I’ve spoken to you.”
Macia sat in a chair next to Camille’s and placed her hand atop the girl’s. Camille’s hand trembled beneath her own, and she wondered what could cause her such distress. “You have my word. How can I help?”
A faraway look glazed Camille’s eyes. “My family has been beset by difficulties for as long as I can remember, most of them due to my father’s behavior. He is the reason we moved to Hill City.”
Macia settled into her chair and listened as Camille related the secret tales of the Faraday family and their ongoing problems— accounts of how her family had faced financial ruin due to her father and his troublesome ways.
Camille pressed her hand down the pleat in her skirt. “Hoping she could frighten Father into changing his ways, my mother even threatened to divorce him. This move to Hill City was to be his final chance. Unfortunately, I believe he’s fallen back into his old habits.
Soon mother will discover his wayward activities, and I truly do not know what will happen.”
Macia didn’t know what
wayward activities
consumed Mr. Faraday’s life and would not inquire. Right now, she wished she had insisted upon serving tea. With a cup of warm liquid to calm her, Macia might not feel so utterly confused. Obviously Camille expected something of her, but she didn’t know what. Camille stared at her with a look of unwavering anticipation that demanded a reaction.
Uncertain how to proceed, Macia decided she must forge ahead before Lucy came and interrupted their conversation. “I’m willing to help you, Camille, but I have no idea what I can do.”
Camille drew in a deep breath and then related the remainder of her story, which was far from pretty. She said her father had become addicted to gambling—much the way other men become addicted to alcohol. Unfortunately, none of them had realized what was happening until it was too late. Without her mother’s knowledge, her father had gambled away the family fortune and left them destitute. When they arrived in Hill City, the only money they’d had to begin their new life was an inheritance Mrs. Faraday had received only weeks earlier.When she had received the inheritance, Mrs. Faraday issued her husband an ultimatum and soon thereafter the family was on their way west.
Camille’s eyes brimmed with tears. “We were sworn to secrecy regarding our past. Mother feared if anyone knew we wouldn’t be accepted.” She wiped away a tear that had escaped and rolled down her cheek. “You likely wondered why I was unsociable toward you— and withdrew from Harvey’s affections. I longed to form a friendship with you, but I was afraid I’d slip and say something about my past.”
“Is that why your family didn’t attend Thanksgiving dinner?”
Hurt flashed in Camille’s eyes. “I was so much looking forward to Thanksgiving dinner with your family. However, my parents had a terrible argument regarding money that was missing from the pharmacy receipts. Mother believes the funds were gambled away by Father. Accusations flew back and forth between my parents until Father left the house. Rather than attempt to explain the circumstances, Mother penned the note saying we were dealing with an emergency.” Camille shrugged her narrow shoulders. “I didn’t understand why we all had to remain at home. In retrospect, I suppose Mother was correct. Father’s absence would have been difficult to explain, and one of us might have slipped up.”
Now Macia understood why Camille had turned down Harvey’s numerous social invitations. The young woman’s fear of divulging family confidences appeared to circumscribe her entire life. In fact, fear probably governed the lives of the entire Faraday clan. Certainly it explained Mrs. Faraday’s controlling behavior toward her husband.
With all she’d divulged, though, Camille still hadn’t answered Macia’s question. As she once again made inquiry as to how she could assist, Macia fleetingly recalled her visit to the general store and Mrs.
Johnson’s declaration that something was amiss at the pharmacy.
“I fear my father may have gambled away our house. I know Mother’s name was on the deed for the pharmacy, but I don’t know about the house. Since your parents owned the property, would you consider asking your father if he recalls?”
Fear engulfed Macia like a summer freshet flooding the banks of a creek.
Surely
Mr. Faraday wouldn’t jeopardize his family’s home. Or would he? She’d heard Harvey tell stories about the men he had gambled with back in Kentucky—how they’d lose all sense of reason when they were drinking and playing cards.
“I’ll ask him when we’re alone later today. Then I’ll plan to stop by the pharmacy tomorrow morning.” Macia leaned in closer and whispered, “Has your father done something that makes you believe he’s deeded away the house?”
