The Dawn of a Dream (11 page)

Luellen rubbed condensation off the window and peered out as the train rolled in to the Beldon Grove depot. “There they are,” she said to Belle. She pointed across the platform at two figures sheltering under the building’s overhang. Papa had his arm around her mother’s shoulders.

She jumped to her feet. “I didn’t realize how much I missed them until now.”

A shadow crossed Belle’s face. “I miss my parents too. I so appreciate your invitation to spend the month with you.”

“It’s selfish on my part. I’ll be lonesome when you go back to Springfield.”

Mama enfolded her in a hug when she stepped onto the platform. “It’s wonderful to have you home. I’ve been lonely with all my children gone.” She turned to Belle. “This must be Liberty Belle Brownlee.”

“Just ‘Belle,’ please.” She took Mama’s outstretched hand. “I’m grateful for your hospitality. My parents send their thanks, as well.”

A cutting wind tore along the tracks. Papa greeted both girls and directed the baggage handler toward their buggy. The women followed him, cloaks pulled tight against the late November weather.

Luellen felt a tingle of apprehension as the buggy rolled down Adams Street toward her family’s home. How long would she be able to keep her secret? Might it be better to tell Mama and Papa and be done with deception? Belle’s presence allowed her conscience the excuse she needed to conceal her pregnancy. Her condition was a family matter, not one for outsiders.

Papa stopped at the hitching post in front of the picket fence. The climbing roses that covered the fence during the summer had faded to orange seed pods. Between their house and Papa’s office the silver maple stood bare before the weather, its leaves scattered by prairie winds. To everything there is a season, Luellen thought. The coming years were her season for school, and nothing would stop her.

She noticed light spilling from the sitting room windows. Her parents would never go off and leave a lamp burning. “Is someone here?”

The door swung open, and Aunt Ellie ran onto the veranda. “Welcome home!”

Uncle Matthew stepped around her and strode toward the buggy. He held out his arms to Luellen. “Come here and give your old uncle a hug.” Wind ruffled his hair and beard.

“What a wonderful surprise.” She embraced him, turning when Belle descended. “This is my dear friend, Belle Brownlee. Belle, my uncle, Matthew Craig.”

“Miss Brownlee. Luellen mentions you in all of her letters.”

“I’m surprised she has time to write letters at all. She’s a dreadful bookworm.”

Luellen made a face at Belle. “It was worth it, wasn’t it? I’m on equal footing with you for next term.”

“Come in,” Aunt Ellie called. “You’ll all catch your death standing out there in the cold.”

Luellen hurried up the steps. Bending slightly, she kissed her aunt on the cheek. After introducing Belle, she looked over Aunt Ellie’s shoulder into the entry hall. “Where are Sarah and Robert?”

“In the kitchen, I expect. Your mama made a pan of her wonderful shortbread. They’re probably sneaking bites.”

Mama entered the house, Uncle Matthew’s arm around her shoulders. “My husband is putting up the team. He’ll be here in a moment,” she told Belle.

The commotion stirred up by her arrival warmed Luellen. How dear everyone was. She looked around at her home—fire burning in the sitting room grate, long dining table lined with chairs—and heaved a sigh of contentment. The faint aroma of caraway drifted from the kitchen. She took Belle’s hand. “Let’s go sample the shortbread before my cousins eat it all.”

Later, as the family sat around the table after supper, Luellen listened to Aunt Ellie go on about her grandchildren, Maria’s and Graciana’s babies. “Quincy’s so far away. I’ve only seen them once,” she said. “But they are the prettiest girls you ever saw.” She looked at Uncle Matthew. “Next to ours, of course.”

He kissed his fingertips and rested them against her cheek. “With such a lovely grandmother, how could they miss?”

“Grandchildren and children at the same time. God has surely blessed us.” Aunt Ellie sent a soft smile toward ten-year-old Sarah and her younger brother, Robert. They both looked bored at the grown-up conversation swirling around the table.

Mama sighed. “Lily’s our only hope right now, and so far, no news.”

Luellen looked at her hands. She’d never considered the possibility that her mother might long for a grandchild. When she glanced up, she caught Papa studying her.

Toward the end of Belle’s visit, Luellen sat at the table after breakfast, paging through her mother’s copies of
Godey’s Lady’s Book
. Her gaze stopped on a picture of a traveling sacque worn over a wide skirt. With the jacket, the silhouette was one of a continuous bell shape from shoulders to hem.

Her mother walked past and paused to look over her shoulder. “There will be time to sew a winter outfit while you’re home. Fitted bodices are the fashion right now.” She chuckled and patted her rounded figure. “I can’t wear them, but you girls can—isn’t that right, Belle?”

Belle lifted her head from another issue of the magazine. “Indeed we can, Mrs. Spengler. There’s a gown here that’s caught my eye.” She slid the book across the table, pointing at an illustration of a narrow-waisted dress with a wide skirt and ruffled bodice and undersleeves.

Luellen raised an eyebrow. “You’d need to wear hoops.”

“You’re right.” She turned the page.

Mama slipped into a chair next to Luellen. “Let’s decide on a style you like. After Christmas, you’ll be home for another month and a half. Plenty of time to sew a dress or two.”

Luellen’s wardrobe needed refreshing, but not for the reasons Mama assumed. The yellow calico she wore with a shawl or covered by an apron was the only comfortable dress she had left. She’d need another outfit and a change before she returned to Allenwood. The difficulty lay in choosing styles that would conceal her figure without announcing her condition.

She removed her glasses and polished the lenses with a corner of her skirt. “I do need something warmer for winter.”

“Wonderful. Mr. Wolcott recently enlarged his store and made space just for cloth and notions.” Mama glanced at Belle. “We can all visit the mercantile together.”

“Excellent idea. I’ll buy a Christmas gift for my family while I’m there.”

“We’ll go this afternoon.”

The back door banged shut. Papa appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Lulie, would you be able to spare me some time? I’d like your help in my office.”

What could be so important that Papa needed her right now? Why not ask Mama?

She looked at Belle. “Would you excuse me for a bit?” Her voice held an apology.

“Of course.” Belle stood, turning to Mama. “I noticed you have a copy of Sir Walter Scott’s
The Betrothed
on the shelf in the sitting room. May I borrow it to read?”

Mama’s face flushed.

Papa grinned. “That’s one of her special favorites. I’m sure she’d be happy to share it with you.”

“Karl, stop it.” Her eyes twinkled. “You’re such a tease.”

Luellen remembered the day she and her brother James had brought the book home to their mother, a gift from Mr. Pitt. She wondered if that might have been the day Papa decided to step up his courtship a notch. In any case, she’d always been thankful that it was he, and not Jared Pitt, who’d won her mother’s heart.

Papa cleared his throat, bringing her back to the present. She jumped to her feet, careful to keep her shawl crossed in front of her. “What do you want help with?”

He rested a hand on her shoulder, guiding her from the room. “Just a few things. We shouldn’t be long.”

Once inside his office, Papa slid a chair away from the wall and held it for her. Then he seated himself on the edge of the examination table. In the wintery light coming through the window, he appeared old and tired.

She looked around the room, but couldn’t see any undone tasks. As always, the odor of medicines tickled her nostrils. Maybe he wanted her to wash out the bottles he used when he filled his bag to make house calls. She opened her mouth to ask again what he needed, when he straightened his shoulders and rested his hands on his knees.

“Do you have something to tell me, Luellen?”

A wave of heat washed over her. She should have known she couldn’t hide her condition from him. She looked down, rubbing at a spot on her apron. In a tiny voice, she asked, “How did you know?”

He slid off the table and tucked his thumb under her chin. His eyes met hers. “Your face is fuller and so is your body, in spite of the way you keep yourself wrapped in that shawl.” Papa drew her to his chest and stroked her hair. “How long did you think you could keep it from us?”

Luellen gasped. “Does Mama know?” Her words were muffled against his shirt.

“I’m sure she suspects.”

“Would you please tell her for me? I’ve caused so much distress already—I can’t bear to upset her further.”

He stepped back and leaned against the examination table. “My dear girl, this isn’t something that’s going to be over tomorrow. She’ll be on your side. Remember, Lily was born after your father died. If anyone can understand, it’ll be your mother.”

His compassionate tone tore at her heart. She covered her face and sobbed. “I made such an awful mistake. I’m so sorry. You and Mama don’t deserve to suffer for my troubles.”

“Hush now.” He kissed the top of her head and offered her a handkerchief. “A new baby in the family isn’t a tragedy. I’ll be right here to look after you until your child is born.”

“I’m not staying home.” Luellen wiped tears from her cheeks. “School’s too important to me to—”

Papa held up a hand, palm out. “He or she will arrive sometime in May, perhaps before the term ends. You can’t tax yourself during those last months. You’ve been part of a doctor’s family for too many years not to know the risks you’d be taking.”

“Please, Papa.” She seized his hands. “I’m afraid if I leave now I’ll never go back.”

“Even if you complete this term, there’s still one more year. I assume you’ll stay home until your child is older, then finish.”

“No. The Model School instructor is a widow with a young child. If she earned a teaching certificate under those circumstances, so can I.”

A muscle twitched in Papa’s cheek. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he paced the length of the room, turning to face her. “Why don’t you wait on that decision until May? Perhaps you’ll feel differently after the baby’s born.”

If Papa were focused on next year . . . “So you won’t object if I return in February?”

“I didn’t say that. I worry about—” He paled and drew several deep breaths.

“Papa?”

He shook his head. “It’s nothing.” He sucked in another breath and released it in a heavy sigh. “You’ve already overcome a great deal to reach your goal. I won’t stand in your way now. But keep in mind you’re gambling with a human life.”

Preoccupied, Luellen walked along Monroe Street toward Wolcott’s Mercantile with her mother and Belle. She hadn’t considered her ambition as gambling with her baby’s life. The baby
was
more important. But school was important too. Why couldn’t she have both?

She hunched her shoulders against a gust of wind, drawing her cloak close to her throat. Belle squeezed her arm. “You’re awfully quiet this afternoon. Is something troubling you?”

Mama turned to face them, apparently listening for Luellen’s response.

“Not at all,” she lied. “I’m just wondering what colors I should choose for my new dresses.”

Belle inclined her head, studying Luellen’s face. “Let’s look for a deep green or gold to highlight your brown eyes.”

Once inside the mercantile, Mama led the way to the dry goods section. The odor of fresh paint mingled with the smell of fabric dyes and stiffeners. After a pleasant half hour contemplating all possible combinations, Luellen chose a golden brown wool challis for a dress and matching sacque, and a green worsted for her second dress.

Ben Wolcott joined them, carrying a pair of shears. “Miss Luellen. A pleasure to see you again. I trust all the books I sold you have been a help in Allenwood?”

“Indeed they have.” Luellen surveyed their family’s longtime friend. Though he was well over sixty, Mr. Wolcott moved with the bounce of a man twenty years younger. What was left of his hair was plastered to his scalp with sweet-smelling oil.