Page 8 of Into the Starlight (Secrets of Sweetwater Crossing #3)

Chapter Eight

“I feel like I’m royalty the way everyone is being so kind to me.” Della arranged her skirts as she settled into the carriage for their ride to what Joanna still called the Albright ranch, even though its owners were now named Neville.

“First that wonderful tea yesterday, and now an invitation to lunch. You’re all spoiling me.”

Though the smile that lit Della’s face confirmed her pleasure, Joanna felt compelled to offer a caveat. “I should probably warn you that I have no idea how good the food will be. Gertrude was an excellent schoolmarm, but I’m not certain she ever learned to cook. I recall her mother telling mine that she despaired of teaching Gertrude to make even the simplest of meals.” That was one reason Joanna had suggested she and Della visit in the afternoon rather than come midmorning and stay for lunch. Gertrude, however, had overridden Joanna’s protests that it was too much work for her and had insisted that Della and Joanna join her for a meal.

“According to Mrs. Albright,” Joanna continued as they made their way out of Sweetwater Crossing, “Gertrude spent the time she should have been in the kitchen honing her culinary skills either reading or trying to convince her mother to plant flowers.”

“She sounds like a woman after my heart.” Della nodded her approval of their hostess’s priorities. “Few things can compare to a good book or a beautiful flower. You know how much I love books. Clive was almost as passionate about flowers.”

But when they reached the ranch, though the grounds were well-maintained, there were no flowers in sight, making Joanna suspect that while Gertrude had been successful in bending pupils to her demands, she had failed to persuade her mother that flowers were essential. What she didn’t understand was why Gertrude hadn’t planted flowers now that this was her home and not her mother’s.

While Joanna was still looping the reins over the hitching post, Gertrude emerged from the house. Standing on the front porch, she beckoned them inside, her eyes sparkling with more warmth than she used to display in the classroom, her light blue dress more flattering than any she’d worn to school. Unlike the woman who’d seemed almost fragile on Sunday, this Gertrude appeared happy and confident.

“I’m so glad you could come today.” Though she nodded at Joanna, her attention was focused on Della, her eyes cataloging every detail from the hat perched on top of Della’s head to her high-buttoned shoes. “I’ve been looking forward to getting to know you better. Clive told me you love books as much as I do.”

Gertrude hooked her arm around Della’s and led the way into the house. “Tell me, what do you think of the Bront? sisters? Do you prefer Wuthering Heights to Jane Eyre ?” Before Della could respond, she continued. “Clive laughed when I compared him to Mr. Rochester and informed me in no uncertain terms that he did not have a mad wife locked away in the attic.”

If Della found this an unusual welcome, she gave no sign but simply followed their hostess into the parlor. When she and Joanna had divested themselves of their hats and gloves and were seated on the horsehair settee across from Gertrude, Della said, “I’m surprised Clive recognized the reference to Jane Eyre . He and I shared many interests, but books were not one of them.”

That was a story Joanna hadn’t heard, an unexpected insight into the man who’d built her home.

“I hadn’t realized that, but it makes the library at Finley House all the more remarkable. My father called it a treasure not only because of the number of books but also the variety. He said almost every subject he could imagine was included.”

Gertrude looked as if she wanted to disagree with Joanna. Pursing her lips, she said, “The library wasn’t the only thing that was remarkable. So was Clive.” A faint smile softened her face, and for a second Gertrude appeared younger than the thirty-eight Joanna knew her to be.

“Did you know Clive well?” Della’s eyes glowed with the possibility of learning more about her fiancé’s life in Sweetwater Crossing. Though Joanna hoped she would, the smile and the way Gertrude’s demeanor had changed so dramatically made her wonder whether she had been one of the young women who’d been attracted to Clive. According to both Mrs. Carmichael and Mrs. Sanders, most of the single girls had been fascinated by or perhaps infatuated with Della’s intended.

Gertrude shook her head, her expression once more solemn. “He didn’t pay much attention to me or to anyone who wasn’t involved in building his house. I got to see him more often than many people, because my parents and I had supper with him each Saturday, but all I remember him talking about was the house he was building.” She paused, then turned to Joanna. “Did you know that Clive lived in what we called our Sunday House, even though it’s almost as large as Finley House?”

“No, I didn’t.” Neither Father nor Mama had mentioned either Clive’s staying across the street or that the Albrights called their large in-town home a Sunday House, but by the time Joanna and her sisters had been old enough to care about the man who’d built their house, years had passed, and that might have seemed unimportant.

“It would have been an ideal location,” Joanna added. The Albrights’ house had been the first built on Creek and, until Finley House was constructed, had been the largest. While it wasn’t directly across from Finley House, it was close enough that Clive would have had only a short walk to oversee the construction.

As she shifted slightly in her chair, Gertrude nodded. “That’s why Papa offered it to him. The house was empty except for Saturday night, because we were all out here.”

Though the location of Clive’s temporary residence seemed insignificant to Joanna, Della appeared intrigued by this newly revealed detail of her intended’s life. The smile she gave Gertrude was filled with gratitude for the tidbit of information. “Your Sunday House is much larger than the others.”

Gertrude chuckled, as if she’d been privy to Della’s reaction to the other Sunday Houses. “That’s because my parents always planned to live there permanently when my father retired from ranching. Papa liked the idea of being closer to Joanna’s father and Doc Sheridan and seeing them more than once a week.”

But both men were dead, as was Clive.

“So now the ranch is yours.” Joanna wondered how Gertrude was adjusting to the changes in her life. “I still have trouble realizing that you’re no longer teaching.”

“You and most of Sweetwater Crossing.” Gertrude’s chuckle turned into a full-fledged laugh. “They all thought I was a confirmed spinster like Minerva Heppel.”

“But Thomas changed your mind.” Joanna wished she’d been here to see the courtship. Louisa had said it was brief and had surprised many, although the more cynical had declared it a wise move on Thomas’s part to merge his ranch with the larger Albright one.

“He did, but that’s enough about me. Let’s eat lunch, and then I want to show you my favorite part of the ranch.” Gertrude rose and led the way into the dining room.

The meal was surprisingly good. When Della complimented Gertrude on the chicken fricassee, she laughed and said she’d discovered that cooking was like everything else. If you found the right book of instructions, you could learn anything. Though the biscuits had been tender, the tough crust on the pecan pie was evidence that Gertrude’s culinary education was still incomplete.

“We’ll leave the dishes here,” she said when the meal was over. “I’m afraid we may have rain this afternoon, but I don’t want you to miss my special spot. Come, ladies, let’s enjoy the sunshine while it lasts.”

Once they were outside, Gertrude stood between Joanna and Della, linking arms with both of them. “Tell me, Della, which of Jane Austen’s books do you consider her best?”

While the two women discussed the merits of Persuasion versus Pride and Prejudice , Joanna studied the area they were crossing, trying to imagine what Gertrude considered special about it. The meadow ringed by live oaks and mesquite was pretty, but so were dozens of other meadows. She saw nothing exceptional here.

“We’re almost there,” Gertrude said as they climbed a small rise. “What do you think?”

There, close to a spreading live oak but far enough away that the branches did not shade it, was a flower bed. It was small—perhaps three feet wide and seven feet long—but every inch was covered with plants, most of which were still blooming. If this were a desert, Joanna would have called it an oasis. Here, in the middle of a green meadow, the tiny garden provided a refreshing splash of color.

“Oh, Gertrude, it’s beautiful.” Della’s voice was filled with awe at the variety of flowers.

Joanna didn’t know which flowers grew in Alabama, but Della’s reaction made her surmise that many of these were new to her.

“I can see why this is your favorite place,” Della continued, “but why is it so far from the house? I would have thought you’d want to be able to see it from inside.”

There was one reason Joanna could imagine. “Perhaps it was designed as a refuge. As dearly as I love my sisters, there were times when I craved solitude. I turned one of the unused rooms on the third floor into my sanctuary.”

When Gertrude laughed again, Joanna realized this was a far different Gertrude from the woman who’d been her schoolmarm. That Gertrude would smile with approval when a pupil gave the correct answer, but Joanna had no memories of laughter or even chuckles.

“The reason is far more prosaic,” her former teacher told them. “My mother believes flowers are a waste of fertile soil, because you can’t eat them or feed them to cattle. I disagreed, so I dug and planted the bed myself. I only told her and Papa about it when the first flowers were in bloom. And now, even though I could plant flowers everywhere, I’ve decided to keep this as the only place they grow. That makes it special.”

This was another side to Gertrude that Joanna would never have guessed. “When did you plant the bed?”

“Years ago. Before the war.”

Della knelt and fingered the red petals of a flower Joanna could not identify. “Regardless of the reason you created it, this is a beautiful spot. I haven’t seen your whole ranch, but it’s definitely my favorite place too.” Rising, Della smiled at their hostess. “I can’t explain why I feel this way, but there’s something extra special about this flower bed. I wish Clive could have seen it. He loved flowers almost as much as I love books.”

Gertrude appeared surprised. “Did he? In that case, let’s call this Clive’s flower bed.”

“Your former teacher intrigues me,” Della said when they’d taken their leave and headed back to town.

“In what way? I never thought of her as intriguing.” Although today had revealed new and unexpected facets of Gertrude’s personality.

“I suspect she’s not as happy as she pretends.” When Joanna raised a brow, Della shrugged. “I could be wrong, of course. Since my father died, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about happiness and trying to decide whether those closest to me are happy. You, for example, are an inherently happy person, even though the last year has been so difficult.”

The assessment surprised Joanna. “I never thought of myself that way, so I’m not certain you’re correct.”

“It’s only my impression.” Della was silent for a moment before she said, “I wish I could say that Burke is happy. If anyone deserves happiness, he does, but he’s always been too serious. I suspect that’s because he didn’t have a father or any adult males close to him while he was growing up.”

“I didn’t realize that. He doesn’t talk much about his past.”

“That’s Burke. It’s no secret that his father left for the war when Burke was four. Like so many other men, he never returned. Burke’s mother had her hands full raising him and his two older sisters.” Della stared into the distance, perhaps trying to compose her thoughts. “I did what I could, but like his mother, I had no experience with young boys. What she and I learned is that they’re very different from girls.”

It was an interesting observation. “That’s another thing I never thought about. As you know, my situation was very different. There were only girls in my family, and we were fortunate that our father survived the war. He was badly wounded at Gettysburg and lived with constant pain, but we had both parents with us until last year.”

“Sadly, true happiness seems to elude Burke. First no father, then Edna—” Della stopped abruptly, her face flushing as if she’d said too much.

Joanna knew better than to pry, but she couldn’t stop herself. “Who’s Edna?”

“The woman Burke planned to marry.”

Joanna seemed different tonight, Burke reflected as he settled her shawl over her shoulders. She had the same glow his sisters had when they were pregnant, making him wonder if she too was expecting a child, but that was a subject no gentleman, not even a doctor, would raise. It was up to the woman to introduce it, and many waited until their increasing girth made their condition obvious.

He wished he understood what had changed, why she seemed more pensive, why he’d caught her giving him speculative looks. According to Della, they’d had an enjoyable lunch with Gertrude Neville, so Burke doubted that was the cause. He hoped Joanna would explain her unusual mood while they were walking, but until they reached the bridge which had become their nightly destination, they chatted about inconsequential things. Then as they both leaned on the railing and peered at the slowly moving water, she surprised him.

“Do you believe dreams come true?”

Startled by the unexpected question, Burke replied with one of his own. “Do you mean dreams like the ones in the Bible that God used to send messages?”

Joanna shook her head. “Maybe dreams wasn’t the right word. That’s how I’ve always thought of them, but aspirations might be better.”

It was a question worth pondering. “I suppose they do for some people. You sound as if you don’t believe that.”

Gripping the railing, she said, “I used to. My head used to be filled with dreams, but one by one, they either died or were destroyed. I thought I was going to be the first of us girls to marry, but the man I fancied didn’t want me.” She turned and fixed her gaze on him, her expression earnest. “Look at what happened to my dream of being a concert pianist.” The cough that punctuated her statement underscored the problem. “Now I’m almost afraid to entertain new ones.”

Was this the cause of her pensive mood? Rather than ask and possibly embarrass her, Burke chose a different tack. “Do you believe happiness is tied to having dreams come true?”

She dropped her gaze and stared at the creek for a few seconds before responding. “It always seemed that way to me, but Della has a different perspective. She told me some people are intrinsically happy, and she thinks I’m one of them.”

That was a partial explanation for Joanna’s mood. When Della was in one of her introspective moods, she often posed questions or made statements that caused others to reconsider what might previously have seemed like tenets of their beliefs.

“Do you disagree with her?” Burke wasn’t certain he’d classify Joanna as intrinsically happy, but he hoped Della was correct. This woman who’d suffered so many losses in such a short time deserved to be happy.

“I’m not sure. As I told her, it’s not something I’ve given a lot of thought. Growing up, I remember feeling desperately unhappy when I realized that Mama wasn’t my real mother. She never treated me any differently than she did Emily and Louisa, but when they were annoyed with me over something, they’d remind me that she wasn’t my mother. I hated that.”

As Burke recalled the conversation he’d had with Mrs. Carmichael the day he’d arrived in Sweetwater Crossing, he realized that she’d been right in believing that life hadn’t always been easy for Joanna as the middle child. “You three seem to be close now.”

“We are. Those were childish spats, and I’ve long since recovered from them. What about you?”

“Are you asking if I’m a fundamentally happy person?” Burke wasn’t. He was neither an optimist nor a pessimist. He was a realist.

“Maybe, but I’m more curious about your dreams. If one of them was to become a physician, it’s come true.”

“That was my first dream,” he admitted. “When I saw soldiers who survived the war returning home with missing limbs, some blind, most in pain, I wanted to help them. I was too young to do anything other than give them a cup of water or a piece of bread, but I vowed that when I grew up, I’d learn how to ease suffering.”

“And you did. Now that that dream came true, have you replaced it with another?”

This was one of the most unusual conversations Burke had had. Edna would never have asked him about his dreams, and even though Della would sometimes probe his thoughts, aspirations was one subject she had never addressed. Though he was reluctant to reveal another aspect of himself, he didn’t want to disappoint Joanna by refusing to answer.

“Yes,” he said slowly, “but this one is unlikely to come true.”

“I know I shouldn’t pry, but I hope you’ll trust me enough to tell me what it is.”

When she phrased it that way, how could he refuse?

Burke took a deep breath, exhaling slowly before he spoke. “I can never atone for what I did, but I need to find a new direction for my life. Meeting you has made me think I’ve found it. Instead of simply treating patients the way your doctors in Switzerland did, I want to find a way to prevent pneumonia.”

Joanna stared at her reflection in the mirror, wondering if she’d made a mistake in donning the green poplin. While it was the darkest shade of green the modiste had had, it was not black. Some might be scandalized that she hadn’t observed the full mourning period for Kurt and her grandmother, but when she’d spotted the dress in the back of the armoire where she’d hung it the day she arrived, she’d felt compelled to put it on, even though she did not normally change clothes before supper.

What she wore would make no difference to Burke. She knew that, just as she knew that no matter how fervently she wished she could do something to assuage the pain that had been evident when he’d spoken of dreams that would never come true, she could not. If there was one lesson Joanna had learned in Europe, it was that no one could assume another’s pain. Recovery was something each person had to do individually.

Once again, Burke had alluded to a tragic episode in his past, one related to a patient’s death. Once again, he’d given no details, though it was evident he blamed himself. Once again, Joanna had wished she could reassure him, but she couldn’t, not when he made it so clear that he did not want to discuss what had happened.

Instead, she’d asked him more about how he hoped to prevent pneumonia, and they’d talked about how different her life might have been if there’d been a vaccine for it as there was for smallpox.

Not once had Burke mentioned Edna, the woman who’d broken their engagement one day before her mother died, then shocked the town by marrying Burke’s partner a week later. Though Della had recounted only the basic details, Burke’s silence on the subject confirmed Joanna’s belief that Edna’s actions were part of the sadness he could not hide and were likely the reason for his comment about falling out of love.

Joanna couldn’t lessen Burke’s guilt over his patient’s death or his regret over his broken engagement, but she hoped that searching for information about Clive would give him a sense of purpose and lessen the pain. They’d start after supper tonight.

“What a lovely dress,” Louisa said when Joanna entered the kitchen. Though Emily consistently refused their help, both sisters were just as consistent in offering and tried to arrive in the kitchen well before a meal was ready to serve in case Emily would allow them to assist her.

Louisa studied the gown with its deceptively simple lines. “Did you buy it in Paris?”

“Grandmother and I never got there. This came from Munich, but the designer claimed he’d studied in Paris.” When she’d buttoned the bodice, Joanna had noticed that it fit more snugly than it had before and realized that she was regaining the weight she’d lost while ill.

“It’s good to see you out of mourning.” Emily looked up from the sauce she was stirring and gave the dress an appreciative smile. “Mama and Father would have approved. I’m sure you remember that they used to say what mattered was what’s in our hearts, not the outward trappings.”

They had, and that was part of what had helped Joanna make the decision. “Grandmother Kenner would have been scandalized, but I just couldn’t bear another day in black. Those dismal clothes were a constant reminder of the past and what I lost. I want to focus on the future.” And maybe, if she was fortunate, that future would be a happy one.

“That’s a wise approach.” Though Emily could sometimes be critical, she was also quick to voice her approval. “Now, would you taste this sauce and let me know whether it’s sweet enough?” She dipped a spoon into the sauce and offered it to Joanna.

“Did you make bread pudding?” Joanna asked when she’d tasted the butterscotch sauce and pronounced it exceptionally good.

Emily nodded. “I thought it might be a way to celebrate Della’s first day at the library. She mentioned she’s never eaten it before.”

Louisa pulled a clean spoon from the drawer and dipped it into the sauce. “She’s in for a treat.”

An hour later, Della was the first to speak after Craig offered the blessing for supper. “This has been the most exciting week I can recall. So many wonderful things have happened: tea at Porter’s, lunch with Gertrude, and being at the library.”

Mrs. Carmichael nodded as if she understood the reason Della smiled when she mentioned the library. “Did you have many patrons?”

Craig didn’t wait for Della’s response. “Judging from the line I saw outside the door during recess, I’d say she did.”

Della’s smile grew. “Oh yes. So many people came. Most said hello, borrowed a book, and left right away, but a few stayed to talk.”

The blush that stole onto the older woman’s face made Joanna suspect she knew the identity of at least one of those who lingered, but she wanted confirmation. “Who stayed the longest?”

“Harold.”