Stephanie Grace Whitson - [Quilt Chronicles] (42 page)

“Not in the snow,” Jenny gasped. “It’s too cold. I’ll be all right.”

Mattie smoothed Jenny’s hair back from her face. “You just lay back.” She began to hum.

“Sing the one about ‘Jesus paid it.’”

“You want me to get you some water? A cloth for your head?”

“Just sing,” she gasped. “Sing.”

After a while, Mattie’s singing faded away. Jenny didn’t quite think she was sleeping. There was still pain, but it wasn’t the kind she’d had with Johnny. It wasn’t really all that bad. She thought she heard voices. Dr. Gilbert? How did Mrs. Harrison get the doctor so quickly?

Mattie let go of her hand, and Jenny opened her eyes.
Dr. Gilbert?

“Where’s Mattie? Don’t let her—”

“Mattie’s right here, honey-lamb.”

Jenny searched the room. In the lamplight she could see that Mattie’s face was wet. Why was she crying? Dr. Gilbert looked sad, too … and Mrs. Harrison. Everyone looked so sad. After a while, the pain stopped. That was good. It was too early to have the baby anyway. It was going to be all right. Maybe she would write Mrs. Sutton a letter.

“What’s that you sayin’, honey-lamb?”

“Mrs. Sutton,” Jenny said, but she didn’t open her eyes. “I should write her a letter. Tell her I’m sorry. I didn’t know she was so nice. Sterling lied to me. Tell her I’m sorry. I should tell her. Tell her Johnny … Johnny’s a good boy.”

She heard singing. More than Mattie. Oh, such beautiful music. Like a choir. She took a deep breath.
“What a friend we have in Jesus. All our sins to bear … How do I know my sin’s forgiven? My Savior tells me so; That now I am an heir of heaven? My Savior”
—Savior! Jenny opened her eyes. And she knew. She knew it all. Because her Savior told her so … and He was here … right … here.

Yea, mine own familiar friend, in whom I trusted, which did eat of my bread, hath lifted up his heel against me.
P
SALM
41:9

W
hen the phone in the kitchen rang early on the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, Juliana hurried downstairs to answer, expecting to hear Cass wishing her a good morning. He’d called every day since the open house.

Just this past Sunday, Aunt Theodora had complained about a draft where they usually sat at St. John’s and led the way to Cass’s pew, waving Juliana in to sit next to him. When Lutie Gleason turned around and whispered, “It’s about time,” Cass murmured “amen” and reached over to give Juliana’s hand a squeeze. Life had definitely taken on a new glow.

As she reached for the phone, Juliana glanced out the kitchen windows to where Tecumseh stood, looking scruffy in his thick winter coat. It had snowed in the night. Cass was probably calling to cancel the ride they’d planned for today. She didn’t mind. Soon they would be taking out the sleigh. Perhaps she would even retrieve the old ice skates from the attic.
Sleigh rides … ice skates … hot cocoa …
Goodness. She was turning into a romantic.

But it wasn’t Cass on the phone. It was Helen Duncan, choking out terrible news. “I’ve just heard from Dr. Gilbert. He was called out to the stone cottage in the night….” Her voice wavered. “That sweet girl went into premature labor.” Helen sobbed. “And she … she didn’t survive.”

Juliana closed her eyes.
Oh, no. Poor Jenny.
“The baby?”

“No. Too soon.”

“Oh, Helen. I am so sorry. I know you were very fond of her and the little boy.”

She could hear Helen weeping quietly. “Would you like for me to contact Mr. Lindermann?”

There was such a long silence that Juliana wondered if they’d been disconnected. “Helen? Helen, are you there? He’s helped us in the past. He’ll know what to do.”

“Y–yes. Of course he will. But you shouldn’t—no, it’s my responsibility as president of the board. I’ll speak with him.”

“All right. But we must have a service. A real service. At church with Pastor Taylor officiating. I–I’ve been thinking about this for a long while. Since the fire, actually. That poor Nell Parker with no marker at all and—our own Home for the Friendless plot. It’s lovely, but—it simply isn’t right that people are laid in unmarked graves just because they don’t have anyone.” She paused. “Jenny and her baby deserve our best.
All
the residents of a place called Friendship Home do.”

“You’re right,” Helen said. “George and I will want to contribute, and I’ll bring it up at the next board meeting. A Friendship Memorial Fund.”

Juliana turned to see a pale Aunt Theodora poised in the doorway, clutching her sister’s hand. “Helen, my aunts have just come down. I need to go. I’ll call you later today—or stop by.” She hung up the phone and looked at the aunts. “It’s Jenny. And the baby.”

“Both of them?” Aunt Lydia’s eyes filled with tears.

“I’m afraid so.”

“No!” Aunt Theodora staggered to a chair. Once seated, she buried her face in her hands.

“That poor child. Motherless. What’s to become of him?” She looked up at Aunt Lydia. “It’s Felix all over again.” She leaned into her sister, racked by sobs.

Juliana busied herself making tea.
Felix? Who was Felix?
She set two cups on the table before the aunts and motioned to Aunt Lydia that she was going upstairs to dress. Half an hour later, when Juliana went back downstairs, Martha was making breakfast, and a red-eyed Aunt Theodora was alternately sipping tea and dabbing at tears.

“That poor girl.” Martha shook her head.

“We can be thankful that Caroline took her in,” Aunt Lydia said. “There’s no one more understanding than Caroline.”

That was true, and how grateful Juliana was to know it. In fact, the more Juliana had come to know about the petite widow, the more she admired her. Caroline had had her share of heartache and disappointment, but she possessed a marvelous depth of faith. Unlike the aunts and everyone else Juliana had met at St. John’s, Caroline was unusually open to talking about how faith could—and should—translate into life. She spoke about God as if He were in the room with her. Which, Juliana realized, He was. But the idea was new to her.

Caroline.
Strong faith didn’t mean a person was exempt from grief. She’d said that just the other day when she was caught offguard by unexpected tears over her Reggie.

“We should go to her,” Juliana said. “She shouldn’t be alone.”

Aunt Theodora nodded. “Yes. We must.” She glanced at her sister. “I’ll feel better after a few minutes with little Johnny. He—he seems to l–like me.” Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.

“He adores you,” Aunt Lydia said. “It will do him good to have his Auntie-T there.”

She crossed to the stove to have Martha replenish her tea.

Juliana waited for Aunt Theodora to be out of earshot before saying, “‘Auntie-T.’ How did I miss that?
When
did I miss it? And who is Felix? It’s not like Aunt Theodora to be so … overcome.”

“Johnny said it the last time Theodora visited. Actually, there was a gingersnap in her hand and little Johnny was likely trying to say
cookie
, but my sister heard ‘Auntie-T,’ and the smile on her face? Who could begrudge her a little intentional deafness if it brings her joy?” She paused. “As to the other matter, that is not my story to tell.” She headed upstairs to change.

Juliana had just lifted the receiver from its mount and was about to turn the crank to call Cass, when Aunt Lydia padded back down the stairs.

“About Felix …”

She placed the receiver back on its mount.

Aunt Lydia lowered her voice. “It is a matter about which we do not speak. I was shocked to hear Theodora say the name.” She paused. “Your life has been singularly blessed, dear. But others … others have things in the shadows that are best left there. I hope you understand. My only motive in speaking of it now is to protect my sister from undeserved pain.” She sighed. Glanced up the stairs. “She has had enough of that these past fifty years.”

Juliana reached out and put a hand on the old woman’s arm. “I won’t speak of it again. You have my word.”

“Thank you, dear.” Aunt Lydia gave her hand a gentle pat and retreated back up the stairs.

Juliana took a moment to calm herself, and then she called Cass to relay the sad news. He prayed with her over the phone. Another new experience for the two of them. Strange, and yet comforting.

“Is there anything else I can do to help?”

“Would you come by this evening? It’s going to be a hard day.”
And I’m worried about Aunt Theodora.
She couldn’t say that, of course. She would keep her promise. “I’d just like the company. I think we all would.”

“I’ll get there as soon as I can.” There was a pause, and then, “Juliana?”

“Yes?”

“Have Martha fill those foot warmers with hot water. Have the aunts put their feet on the warmers and then wrap them up with blankets. And do you still have those buffalo lap robes the boss brought back from that trip west?”

“I … think so.”

“It didn’t snow much, but it’s bitterly cold out this morning.” He paused, and then Juliana heard him smiling as he said, “I will love you anyway, but I’d prefer you didn’t lose the tip of your nose to frostbite.”

Did he just say he loves me?
“I’ll be sure to keep my nose,” she said, “and to preserve the aunts’ toes, as well.”

As she hung up, she realized the two of them had just given the telephone exchange operators quite the scoop when it came to gossip. And she didn’t care.

Bundled and blanketed, the Sutton ladies made their way to the Friendship Home. When the buggy got within sight of the house, Juliana saw Mehetabelle waving for them to drive up to the back door. “Praise the Lord,” she said. “I been prayin’ for someone to come so Miz Caroline wouldn’t be alone. How did you hear?”

She stepped back from the door as the ladies clomped inside, stamping their feet to remove the snow and sighing with relief as they made their way into the warm kitchen.

“Mrs. Duncan called,” Juliana said. “Dr. Gilbert informed her when he got back into town.”

Mehetabelle nodded. “Miz Caroline is upstairs, rocking little Johnny. Nurse Wilder brought the others down to play in the library so that poor little lamb could sleep. He’s had a hard time of it.” She smiled at Aunt Theodora. “He’ll be glad to see his favorite auntie.”

“You two stay here and get warmed up,” Juliana said. “I’ll let Caroline know we’re here.” She padded up the back stairs to the third floor. Caroline was seated in a rocker, a sleeping Johnny in her arms. When she saw Juliana, she rose and settled the baby in a crib.

“The aunts came with me. Aunt Theodora was especially distraught for Johnny’s sake.”

Caroline smiled. “He does win hearts.”

Back downstairs, the older women offered hugs and murmured sympathy. “You should have seen her face,” Caroline said. “So peaceful. She was a beautiful girl. I’m thankful I was there. There’s no moment in life when a person is more aware that they are standing on holy ground. One moment a life is here with you, and the next they’ve stepped into Jesus’ arms.”

“She didn’t suffer, then,” Aunt Lydia murmured.

Caroline shook her head. “I don’t think so. She just stepped over. One breath here … the next there.” She smiled at the cook. “Mehetabelle sang her into glory. Just think of it. Breathing in heaven’s air. What that must be like.” She paused. “Who called you? I’m so glad you came.”

Juliana told her. “And Helen is making arrangements. She called Mr. Lindermann. I expect he’ll be here soon.”

Caroline took a deep breath and swiped at a tear. “The baby was a girl. I never thought to ask Jenny about a name.”

“Deborah,” Mehetabelle said. “After the prophetess. And Joshua if it was a boy. She wanted strong names. Asked me what Bible names were good for that. She was worried that things would be hard for them in the world, them not having a daddy and all.”

“Deborah, then,” Caroline said.

The front bell rang. “I’ll get that.” Juliana was pleased to find Pastor Taylor standing on the front steps.

“Cass called and told me,” he said. “I just thought I’d drive out and see if there’s anything I can do.”

Juliana nodded. “There is. Help us plan a service.”

They gathered in the parlor. Caroline smiled through her tears as she told Pastor Taylor everything she could remember about Jenny. “Something had happened in recent days. She seemed more settled. Happier. Like a burden had rolled away. Oh—and she loved Mrs. Kennedy’s singing. She just soaked it in.”

“Do you think Mrs. Kennedy would sing at the service?”

Caroline nodded. “Jenny would like that.”