The pattern of her heart, p.4
The Pattern of Her Heart, page 4
A chorus of agreement sounded and the children immediately jumped up and began to help. They spread the lunch of fried chicken, pickled beets, hard-boiled eggs, watermelon pickles, and thick slices of buttered bread on the checkered cotton cloth and then filled their plates, again and again and again—particularly Reggie, who couldn’t seem to eat enough to fill her stomach.
“And I thought I had packed enough food to last us several days,” Elinor told the children as she began repacking the basket. “There’s one last piece of chicken if anyone wants it,” she said while holding the drumstick between her fingers.
“I’ll take it,” Reggie said, quickly relieving Elinor of the crispy chicken leg and taking a bite. “This is gooood chicken,” she complimented, waving the drumstick like a fat wand.
“Thank you, Reggie.”
“Me and Moses can’t stay much longer,” Spencer said as he once again dipped his line into the water.
“How come? You were late and now you’re gonna leave early?”
“Don’t get all mad at us, Reggie. We don’t want to, but it was the only way I could even get permission to come at all. Mama wants us at home when that lawyer comes. She says she doesn’t want to be worrying about where I am when she has to be focused on other important matters.”
The response didn’t assuage Reggie’s irritation. “Didn’t you tell her you’d be at our usual fishing spot?”
“Yes. But it didn’t matter what I said. She told me I had to promise to be home early.”
Elinor patted Reggie’s arm. “It is obviously very important to Mrs. Houston that Spencer return home on time. We can stay for a while longer if you like, but I think Spencer and Moses should do as they’ve been instructed.”
“I know. I guess we might as well all leave,” Reggie replied dejectedly. “Want to walk me home?” she asked, her features beginning to brighten a bit.
“Of course. I’d be pleased to walk with you,” Elinor said.
A short time later, Elinor and Reggie bid the boys farewell and headed for the parsonage.
“Don’t forget to tell me what happens with the lawyer,” Reggie shouted to Spencer as he and Moses climbed the bank and walked toward the bridge.
“I will.”
Both boys waved, and Elinor noted the forlorn look on Reggie’s face as the boys sauntered out of sight. “Do you wish you had a brother or sister—someone to keep you company, like Spencer and Moses?”
“They aren’t brothers; they’re friends.”
“Yes, I know. But they live nearby one another, and they can be together almost as if they were brothers. I merely wondered if you would like that same companionship,” Elinor said.
“I guess I’d like a friend that lived close by—but not a brother or sister. That would mean having a baby around, and babies aren’t any fun. I want someone my own age.”
“I see. Well it appears you’ve made two good friends even if they don’t live in town where you can see them every day.”
“Uh-huh. But it’s not good to get too close to friends,” Reggie said as she skipped along beside Elinor.
“Why is that?”
“Because every time I make a friend, we move to another town, and then I have to start all over again. Boys are easier to make friends with, though. Girls act snooty, don’t you think?”
Elinor laughed. “Sometimes they do. But there are girls who are welcoming and kind too. Perhaps you’ve not tried as hard because you prefer doing the things boys like rather than girls’ activities.”
“Maybe. But you’d think more girls would like to fish and ride horses, wouldn’t you?”
“You’d think,” Elinor agreed. “I thought it was difficult growing up without having my mother around when I was a little girl.”
Reggie swung around to face Elinor and began walking backwards. “Did she die like my mama?”
“She died when I was born, so I never knew her.”
“Just like me,” Reggie said.
“But I had brothers and sisters. We remained in Portsmouth for a short time, but then my father located a position in London and we all moved there and our grandmother lived with us. She helped raise me,” Elinor explained.
“Father said my grandmother offered to take me too, but he said no. He wanted to keep me with him. That was good, don’t you think?”
“Absolutely! You’re a very fortunate girl to have a father willing to rear a little girl all by himself.”
“We’ve managed pretty well—except for the moving around. I don’t like that part, but Father says maybe we’ll be able to stay in Lowell until I’m all grown. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”
“Indeed, it would. We’ll have to begin praying that God keeps your father as pastor at St. Paul’s for a very long time,” Elinor said as they approached the parsonage. “Thank you for the fine day, Reggie. I had a very nice time.”
“Please come in and see my room,” she pleaded while tugging on Elinor’s hand. “It’s in the attic, and I’ve found a secret hole in the floor.”
“Yes, do come in,” Justin Chamberlain offered as he stood up and stepped from behind a rose-covered trellis on the front porch. “I finally completed my sermon notes and came outdoors for a breath of fresh air.”
“I really must be getting back to the boardinghouse,” Elinor replied. She wasn’t sure why, but the pastor’s offer suddenly made her feel self-conscious.
“Pleeeease,” Reggie begged. “I do want you to see my room.”
“I’ll come in, but only long enough to see your room. Then I must be on my way.”
Justin reached for the picnic basket. “I doubt you’ll want to carry this upstairs for your grand tour.”
“Thank you,” Elinor said and followed along behind Reggie, viewing the large attic room where the side walls sloped at a severe angle, making the room somewhat difficult to navigate without bending over. “You may need to do a bit of furniture rearranging as you grow taller. If not, you’re apt to bump your head at night should you sit up too quickly,” Elinor said with a grin.
“Father said the very same thing. Come see my special trapdoor.”
Elinor viewed the opening that dropped into the kitchen pantry. “I wonder who made this opening. I bet there are lots of stories we could tell about why and who crawled down through that hole,” she said in a hushed voice.
Reggie’s delight was obvious. “It is exciting, isn’t it?”
“Yes. In fact, it almost makes me long to be a little girl again,” Elinor said as the two of them walked down the stairs.
“I didn’t notice you two carrying any fish,” Justin noted as they reached the bottom step.
“Actually, I did manage to hook one, but it was so tiny we let it go,” Elinor said. “The children tell me that mid-afternoon is not a good time of day for catching fish, so I felt fortunate I caught even the little one.”
“And she put her own worm on the hook and even took the fish off,” Reggie informed her father.
“It appears my daughter is impressed with your abilities even if you didn’t catch a lot of fish. And compliments from my daughter are not easy to come by,” he added.
“Then I’ll consider myself fortunate,” Elinor said.
“Please stay and have a piece of pie or cake with us,” Pastor Chamberlain offered.
Elinor glanced at Reggie, and the two of them giggled. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t laugh at your kind offer. However, Reggie confided that the good ladies of St. Paul’s brought several cakes and pies earlier today.”
He gave a firm nod. “Earlier today, later today, yesterday, and the day before that—and not merely the ladies from St. Paul’s, but from all around town. I have more cakes and pies than we can ever hope to eat. I’d need to purchase a new preaching suit if I ate all of those sweets,” he said with a grin. “I don’t think the ladies realize that man does not live by sweets alone. Come and see.”
Elinor’s eyes widened at the spectacle. All horizontal space in the kitchen and dining room, with the exception of Pastor Chamberlain’s writing desk, had been covered by every imaginable dessert. The sight took her breath away. “Oh my! This is astonishing. You must begin turning them away.”
“I have attempted to do so from the very beginning. None will take no for an answer. Even when they see the laden tables, they refuse to take their offerings home.”
“Perhaps Reggie should begin selling some of these delicacies,” Elinor teased.
Moments later Elinor left for home, completely unaware of the inspiration she had planted in a young girl’s heart.
CHAPTER • 3
JASMINE HEARD the sounds of an approaching horse and buggy from her upstairs room and quickly walked to the window overlooking the small circular driveway that fronted their home. Jarrod Forbes stepped down from the carriage, and she watched as he slowly surveyed his surroundings. Mr. Forbes had aged since she’d last seen him and now wore spectacles and carried a silver-tipped walking cane. His hair appeared more gray than black, and there was a surprising stoop to his shoulders. The lawyer had always held his head high and his shoulders squared. At least that’s what her father had said about him. Jasmine had long thought Jarrod Forbes aloof and proud, though she didn’t get that impression at the current time.
She heard the front door open and then Nolan’s and McKinley’s voices as they greeted their guest. Mr. Forbes had sent word of his arrival at the Merrimack House yesterday and asked to meet with them this morning. She knew McKinley would prefer the early morning meeting—he disliked being pulled away from his work at the Corporation during business hours.
Bracing herself for what she was convinced would be bad news, Jasmine took a deep breath, pursed her lips, and slowly exhaled before descending the staircase. “Mr. Forbes,” she greeted as she joined the gentlemen in Nolan’s library. “I trust you had a pleasant journey.”
She feared the lawyer’s inability to meet her eyes didn’t bode well for the discussion that would later ensue.
“My voyage was uneventful, thank you.”
“Has my husband offered you refreshments?” she inquired.
Nolan nodded. “Yes. Martha will bring a tray shortly.”
“Then I suppose we should all be seated,” she said, suddenly feeling ill at ease standing in front of Nolan’s oversized mahogany desk.
Mr. Forbes tugged on the hem of his vest and sat down opposite McKinley, his focus upon the wool carpet. He cleared his throat several times and repositioned his cane in varying stances until Jasmine finally jumped to her feet and removed it from his hand.
“I’ll place this in the umbrella stand so you won’t have to worry with it,” she said without giving him opportunity to protest. “Now, why don’t you tell us what brings you to Massachusetts.”
Apparently her tone bore enough impatience to prod the man into action, since he immediately reached into his small leather case and withdrew a sheaf of papers.
“Perhaps I should sit near the desk so that I may arrange these documents,” he said, finally looking at Jasmine.
“Of course. Let me assist you,” she offered graciously.
Once the official-looking paper work was spread out on Nolan’s desk, Forbes pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his perspiring forehead. “Your father entrusted me with the task of personally coming to meet with you. Unfortunately, I must begin by advising you that your father and my beloved friend went to be with the Lord on the sixteenth of June.”
A loud roar filled Jasmine’s ears, and she heard a scream. Was it her voice or had someone else shrieked? The room swirled. Nolan’s face was above her, fading in and out, his voice calling her name. She willed her lips to move, yet they failed her.
Her eyelids fluttered open, and she could feel the dampness of a cool compress upon her forehead. She forced herself to focus upon Nolan’s face.
“My dear! You gave me a fright,” Nolan said as he continued to dab her forehead with the moist cloth.
“I do apologize, Mrs. Houston,” Mr. Forbes said. “Forgive me for my lack of sensitivity. I should have better prepared you for the news.”
The lawyer’s words brought his earlier announcement rushing back to mind. Her father, dead for more than two months—and she hadn’t even known. All that time she had overlooked his lack of communication by thinking him busy with the plantation.
Nolan assisted her as she struggled to sit up on the floor and then move slowly to a chair.
“What happened to my father?” she asked.
The lawyer looked at Nolan, obviously seeking affirmation that he should speak. “You must tell her,” Nolan said.
“Yellow fever.”
Jasmine gripped the chair arm. “Did he suffer terribly?”
“No more than the others,” Forbes hedged.
“Others? Then there’s been an epidemic?”
Nolan furrowed his brow and took her hand in his own. “There’s no need to hear all the details at once, my dear. You’re already in a weakened state of mind.”
“I’m not in a weakened state of mind, Nolan. I’m sad and frightened, and I need to know what has happened at The Willows.”
“My wife has returned to her full capacity, Mr. Forbes. You may speak freely.”
“Are you certain?” he inquired in a quivering voice.
“Yes!” Jasmine sat up straight to emphasize her forceful reply.
“The illness struck with a vengeance. It wasn’t widespread, but where it did hit, the misery was tragic. Unfortunately, the area around your home was struck particularly hard.”
Jasmine’s eyes widened with sudden realization. “Our brother David and his wife?”
The old lawyer slowly moved his head back and forth. “Gone. Your brother Samuel as well.”
“No!” she screamed. “Not our entire family.”
Distress lined Mr. Forbes’s face as he retrieved his handkerchief from his jacket pocket and began to once again daub his forehead. “I fear the news only gets more dreadful.”
“I shall do my utmost to remain calm,” Jasmine said.
“Your uncles and cousins . . . there are few remaining and—”
She motioned for him to halt while she grappled for the fan she’d placed on a nearby table. Snapping open the hand-painted object, she began to wave it back and forth with a fervor that stirred the air for all of them. “Continue,” she said, as though her behavior were quite normal.
“None of them survived, except for your distant cousin Levi Wainwright,” he said in a nearly inaudible voice. “Oh yes, and Lydia, Franklin’s daughter.”
“That few? How could that be?” This time it was McKinley who interrupted.
“The plague hit hard in the area. How a small number can endure while others perish is a mystery to all of us— always is. I believe a few others survived—relatives by marriage. Lydia’s husband, Rupert, and one or two others. Rupert advised me Lydia is traveling abroad and not yet expected home. Of course, your distant cousin Levi always was a strange individual—never did live on the plantation with his family. Had aspirations of becoming an artist and still travels a great deal—usually only comes back south during the winter months. As I said, the area was hit particularly hard, and with most of the family congregated on adjoining plantations . . .” His voice trailed off as though he’d lost the energy to continue.
Jasmine laid the fan on a marble-topped table and turned her full attention upon the lawyer. “I don’t mean to appear unappreciative, especially since you’ve traveled all this distance, but why didn’t you immediately send word back when we could have been of assistance to our father?”
“I was following his direction, Mrs. Houston. He forbade me from notifying either you or your brother. He feared you would contract the fever if you came to The Willows. He watched both Samuel and David die and said he wouldn’t lose another child.
“He required me to give my word that I would not notify you until the outbreak had ended. In any event, you could not have come, for the entire area was under quarantine. I set sail as soon as I was notified that the quarantine would be lifted. Your father wanted me to personally deliver these papers and go over the details with you and McKinley.”
McKinley pulled his chair closer to the desk. He seemed unnaturally calm. “What are these papers?”
“Your father’s last will and testament and handwritten letters to each of you. Obviously, you must make decisions regarding the plantation and your slaves.”
“Our slaves? Neither of us believes in slavery, Mr. Forbes. You may turn the survivors free as far as I’m concerned,” Jasmine said.
“Don’t speak so hastily, Mrs. Houston. There are many considerations that must be addressed before you determine exactly what is to be done with them.”
“Go on, Mr. Forbes,” McKinley said. “We’re listening.”
“There’s a cotton crop that must be harvested. Someone needs to go to The Willows and take charge—get the crop in first and then decide if you’ll move back and take over the plantation.” His final words were a near whisper.
McKinley appeared more stunned by Mr. Forbes’s announcement about the crops than the death of their family members. “You want one of us to return and oversee the harvest? Why, that’s preposterous! I can’t leave Lowell or my position with the Corporation. My wife is due to have a child in a few months, and we’re in the process of building a new home. Besides, I know nothing of harvesting a crop. Can’t the overseer tend to the cotton?”
Mr. Forbes leaned back in his chair, the import of his task obviously weighing heavily upon him. He rubbed his temples and gazed at McKinley as though he were a child with an inadequate ability to understand the profundity of their circumstance.
“The overseer?” Jasmine inquired. But Mr. Forbes didn’t need to answer. His expression revealed the answer.
“The overseer and two-thirds of the slaves are dead. I hired a man to act as overseer, but he can’t possibly handle this situation. The plantation requires immediate attention by someone with more authority than a newly hired overseer. Under normal circumstances, that would be you, McKinley. However, your father drew his will giving his property to you and Jasmine in equal shares. He states in article three of his will that the two of you must come to an agreement as to how the plantation will be managed.”
