The Dawn of a Dream (13 page)

Smiling, she settled her left hand on his shoulder. “Might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb.” Together they slipped into the flow of the music.

Lieutenant Calder danced her near the gawking girls at the back of the ballroom. “Let’s give them a good look,” he said, a mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes.

She shook her head in mock disapproval. “I have to live here after you go back to Missouri, Lieutenant.”

“Please call me Ward. We’ve spent enough time in each other’s company to consider ourselves friends, don’t you think?”

“Ward it is.” She appreciated his no-nonsense personality. “Heaven knows, I could use a friend right now.”

“So could I.”

The following morning, Luellen sat in the guest bedroom watching while Belle tucked the last of her belongings into her traveling bag. “I so appreciate the invitation to spend these weeks with your family. All of you made me feel so welcome.”

“Especially Franklin?”

Hurt darkened Belle’s eyes. “You’re my dearest friend. I assumed you’d be pleased that your brother and I got on so well.”

“Don’t tell me you spent all week in his company for my sake.”

“What’s got into you?”

Luellen’s mouth curved in a wry smile.
Now there’s a leading question.
“I thought you were my friend. But you’ve ignored me in favor of my brother for days on end.”

“That’s simply not true. We’ve taken walks, shopped, read, sewed, cooked—what more do you want?” Belle tightened the strap on her bag with a vigorous tug. “I don’t understand you.”

Franklin tapped on the door frame. “I came to get your baggage. The buggy’s waiting out front. I’ll drive you to the depot.”

A flush appeared on Belle’s cheeks. “That will be lovely. Luellen, will you come with us?”

“No, thank you.” She kept her tone formal. “I’m sure you’ll manage without me.”

Franklin seized Belle’s travel bag and turned toward the stairs. “We’d better leave. The train will be here soon.”

Belle planted a kiss on Luellen’s cheek. “See you in two months—let’s try to start fresh then.”

Luellen gave a noncommittal nod.

After they left, she walked into the front bedroom and pushed the curtain aside. Mama and Papa stood on the walk, waiting while Franklin assisted Belle into the buggy. If she hurried, she could still accompany them and make things right with Belle. She took a step away from the window. No. If they really wanted her company, they would have tried harder to persuade her.

She lifted the curtain again, watching until the buggy traveled out of sight.

On Christmas Eve, Luellen leaned over the worktable in the kitchen, rubbing lard into a bowl of flour with her fingers. Mama stood at the stove, watching to be sure the pumpkin didn’t scorch as it cooked. Three pie pans waited to be lined with pastry and filled. Since Ward had expressed a fondness for mincemeat, Mama decided they would have two mince pies in addition to Papa’s favorite, pumpkin, for their Christmas dinner.

Mama removed the pot from the heat and stirred in ginger and cloves. The spicy aroma reminded Luellen of the cake she and Belle had been making the day Franklin and Ward arrived. She swallowed regret at her treatment of her friend. If only she could turn time backward and keep her jealousy to herself. Once they returned to Allenwood, Belle would forget about Franklin. For his part, Franklin would be off on a new adventure with no room for a woman in his life.

If she could turn time backward, where would she stop? Before Brendan? She’d be wishing her baby away. And she’d never have known Belle’s friendship at all. She rested her hands on the side of the bowl and stared into its floury depths.

“Are you woolgathering?” Mama’s voice cut through her self-recrimination.

Luellen sprinkled cold water over the flour mixture and tossed it with a fork. “I was thinking about Belle. I’m afraid I treated her unkindly before she left.”

“She’ll understand. Women in your condition are often moody.”

“Belle doesn’t know about the baby.”

“My goodness, why not? If you insist on going back to Allenwood, you’ll need to have an ally. God forbid, what if something goes wrong while you’re far from home?”

“I just couldn’t bring myself to say anything to her. I already feel like an outsider. My extra studies kept me from making friends. Now to be with child and trying to finish the term—I was afraid she’d want nothing more to do with me.”

Mama slipped an arm around Luellen. “So you drove her away before she could hurt you,” she said in a soft voice.

The fork clinked against the side of the bowl when Luellen dropped it. She turned to her mother, eyes blurred with tears. “Yes.”

Luellen leaned over Uncle Arthur’s shoulder and placed a cream-garnished wedge of pumpkin pie in front of him.

“This is the best part of Christmas dinner.” He brandished his fork. “With Matt’s family gone to Quincy, that leaves only six of us to eat these pies. So I can have another helping.” He glanced at Franklin and Ward. “That is, if you boys don’t eat every bite first.”

“Keep your eye on Franklin,” Ward said. “I’m enjoying the mincemeat. Best I ever tasted.”

“Thank you.” Mama spoke from her place at the foot of the table. She looked at Luellen. “Why don’t you stop fussing and eat your dessert? The clutter in the kitchen will wait.”

As she slid into her chair, Uncle Arthur turned to her with a question in his eyes. “You look like you’re filling out, Lulie. Any chance that no-good O’Connell left you in the family way? Be nice to have a young’un close by.”

A pulse pounded in Luellen’s throat. Not now. Not here. She wanted to tell Franklin when the two of them were alone.

Before she could respond, Mama leaned forward. “Uncle. That’s not a proper question for mixed company.”

“Why not? We’re all family, ’cept for the lieutenant here, and he’s not likely to run through town spreading the news.”

Ward’s eyes met Luellen’s. “You’ve no reason to be ashamed. It will be a fortunate child indeed to be born into such a fine family.”
Hold your head up
, his expression said.

“Is it true?” Franklin stared at her. “You told me you’re going back to Allenwood. How can you do that?”

She bristled. “Easily. Buy a ticket and board the train.”

He opened his mouth to say something further, but Papa intervened. “Franklin. I know you’re surprised, but could we please discuss this later? I want to enjoy my pie without the two of you bickering at each other.”

Uncle Arthur slipped his hand over Luellen’s. His caterpillar eyebrows bunched together in a frown. “Didn’t mean to upset you. Figured everyone knew.”

One thing about Arthur, the older he got, the more outspoken he became. Goodness only knew what he’d blurt out when he was eighty. She patted his hand. “I would’ve told Franklin sooner or later. You saved me the trouble.”

She took a bite of her dessert, avoiding her brother’s wounded expression.

Sounds of Christmas melodies being played on a fiddle drifted into the kitchen. Through the frosted window, the backyard appeared silvery-blue in the late afternoon light. With her hands deep in warm water, Luellen scrubbed the last bits of gravy from the roasting pan. She welcomed the time alone to regain her composure.

Franklin acted crushed that she hadn’t confided in him, but it was his fault. If he hadn’t spent all his time with Belle, she would have found an opportunity to tell him. She’d talk to him tonight, after they took Uncle Arthur back to his farm.

“Would you like a hand in here?” Ward lifted a towel from a hook on the wall, and scooped up a handful of knives and forks from the draining rack.

“This is woman’s work,” she said, flustered. “I’ll be finished soon.”

“Please let me help. Before my father died, I did all the kitchen work. I never thought I’d say this, but I miss cooking and cleaning up.”

“Didn’t your mother—”

“My mother died when I was a youth. My father never remarried.” His gaze met hers, open and without self-pity. “I was just glad to have a home.”

Interested, she waited for him to say more. He dropped the dry tableware into a wooden cutlery tray and wrapped the towel around the roasting pan. “Let’s hurry. You’re missing your uncle’s music. He’s an enthusiastic fiddler, isn’t he?”

“Some of my earliest memories are of him playing for us at Christmas.”

“Sounds quite different from my Christmas memories.”

“How did your family celebrate?”

Ward appeared ready to answer, then he folded his lips together and shook his head. “Some other time.” He placed the roaster next to the range. “Come. Let’s enjoy the carols.”

When they entered the parlor, Uncle Arthur lowered the bow and smiled at them. A fire snapped on the grate, spreading ribbons of flame over blackened firebricks. Lighted candles blazed on the mantel. Luellen wrapped her arms around her middle, hugging the pleasure of the moment to herself. Ward took a chair next to the fire and she settled beside Franklin on the divan.

Franklin glanced at her, his expression cold. “When were you planning to tell me about the baby?” He spoke in an undertone. “First, Mama has to write me that you’re married—you were too busy to do it yourself. Now, you would’ve let me go back to Missouri not knowing I’m going to be an uncle. Don’t I matter to you anymore?”

Stung, Luellen placed a hand at her throat. “Of course you do. I didn’t realize it mattered that much.”

“Why wouldn’t it?” His voice climbed a decibel. “I’ve always—”

Papa cleared his throat. “Do you two want to listen to music, or argue?”

Franklin folded his arms over his chest and stretched his legs out in front of him. “Music.”

“Luellen?”

“Music.” She angled her shoulders so she faced away from her brother.

Uncle Arthur slid the bow over the strings. “It’s getting late. This’ll be the last carol.” The gentle strains of “Silent Night” filled the room.

Hands folded in her lap, Luellen closed her eyes and thought of a baby born centuries earlier in Bethlehem. She felt a stirring inside. Her eyes flew open when she felt movement again.
The baby’s quickened!
She turned to Franklin to whisper the news, but he met her gaze with a stony glare.

Tears prickled. How could she make things right with him? She couldn’t let him return to Missouri without mending their relationship.

On Saturday afternoon, Mama and Luellen spread the wool challis yardage on the dining table. Following a muslin pattern, Luellen cut into the golden brown fabric. By moving the waistline higher on the bodice, she’d be able to wear the dress for some time before she needed to add the matching sacque to the costume. While she worked, her mind strayed to Franklin. He hadn’t said two words to her since yesterday evening. Her brother was not one to hang on to anger, so she must have hurt him deeply.

“I wish Franklin didn’t have to leave Monday,” Mama said, putting Luellen’s thoughts into words.

“So do I.” She cut around a section of wide pagoda sleeve. “He’s angry with me for keeping the news about the baby from him.”

Mama raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t tell us, either. How long were you planning to wait?”

“I didn’t have a plan.” Luellen laid cut sections of fabric aside. “I was so tired and distressed I just didn’t think.”

“Tell that to Franklin. He’ll understand.”

“First I have to get him to listen to me. You saw how he took Ward and went riding this morning. He’s avoiding me.”

“Oh, I don’t believe—” Mama swayed forward, grabbing the edge of the table. Her fingers caught the golden wool. She slumped to the floor, pulling the fabric down on top of her.

“Mama!” Luellen dropped the scissors and raced to her mother’s side. She slid an arm around her waist, helping her into a sitting position. Mama’s skin was pasty white. Small droplets of perspiration dotted her forehead.

“I’ll be all right in a moment. Just let me get my breath.”

“Can you sit in this chair?”

She nodded, and Luellen lifted her into an armchair next to the wall. “I’ll go get Papa. You just be still.”

“No. I don’t want to worry your father.”

“He’d be more than worried if we didn’t tell him. I’ll be right back.” She ignored her mother’s protests, dashing through the kitchen and out to Papa’s office. Frozen needles of grass glittered in the late morning light. Once she reached the door, she saw his printed “Out of the Office” sign placed in the window.

She wheeled toward the house, trying to think of where she could go for help. She didn’t dare get too far away. Who knew what might happen in her absence?

A carriage rumbled along Adams Street. Luellen ran to the front, waving her arms. She could send the occupants to get Uncle Matthew. No. He’d gone to Quincy. Maybe Mr. Wolcott could come. “Wait! Help!”

The carriage moved past without the driver noticing her.

She stood on the walk, staring down the icy street. Should she go to one of the neighbors? What could they do? They didn’t know any more about medicine than she did. The new physician, Dr. Gordon, had an office on Washington Street, but that was blocks away, and what if he wasn’t there either? Her heart pounded in her throat.

The sound of horses’ hooves rang from the frozen ground. Two riders turned a corner and headed in her direction.

“Franklin!” She stepped into the street. “Thank goodness you’re here.”

He reined in his animal. “What are you doing out with no cloak? You’ll freeze to death.”

“It’s Mama.” Luellen placed a hand over her racing heart, trying to get enough breath to talk. “She collapsed. Papa’s gone on a house call.”

Ward rode up beside Franklin. “You go with your sister. I’ll take care of the horses.” He shot a concerned look at Luellen. “You’d best get inside. This cold is wicked.”

She looked down, realizing she wore her thin leather slippers. Chill air crept through her calico dress. Shivering, she wrapped her arms around her middle.

Franklin swung off his horse and strode toward her, unbuttoning his overcoat as he approached. “Here.” He dropped it over her shoulders. Instant warmth enveloped her. He took her arm and they hurried up the steps.

Mama rested in the chair, her head tilted against the back. She looked up when Franklin entered with Luellen. “My goodness. Both of you.” She tried to smile. “I’m a little tired. If you’d help me up the stairs, I believe I’ll lie down for a bit.”

Brother and sister exchanged a worried glance, their enmity forgotten. Neither one could remember a time when their mother needed their assistance.

Once in the bedroom, Franklin excused himself while Luellen helped Mama out of her dress and into her wrapper. After propping pillows against the headboard, Mama settled on the bed, smiling when Luellen tucked a quilt around her shoulders. “This is good practice. Soon you’ll be looking after a baby.”

“Babies are one thing, you’re another. I’m worried. Has this happened before?”

Mama hesitated. “No. Well, not like this.” She took Luellen’s hand. “I haven’t been sleeping much, and you know how busy things are at Christmas. A nap is all I need.” She sighed, her eyelids drooping shut. “Will you see to dinner?”

“Of course.” Luellen tiptoed from the room.

Franklin and Ward were waiting at the foot of the stairs. They both looked up when she appeared.

“What do you think is wrong?” Franklin asked.

“I have no idea. She says she’s just tired.” Luellen rubbed her forehead. “I hope that’s all.”

“Fatigue can have that effect,” Ward said. “I’ve seen men collapse on the parade field after an intense drill.”

Hope brightened Franklin’s expression. “Mama does go at things like she’s killing snakes. She’ll probably be back on her feet by suppertime.”

Luellen wasn’t so sure.

Papa rose from the breakfast table Monday morning and cupped a hand over Mama’s cheek. “You’re to stay off your feet until office hours are over. Rest.” He bent down and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll be back in plenty of time to take Franklin and Ward to the depot.”