The room buzzed with conversation as ladies arrived for Truda’s tea. Piper caught a word here and there as she helped everyone find seats in the parlor. She was amazed Truda had talked her mother into hosting this tea.
“For a worthy cause,” Truda had said.
“But I couldn’t possibly manage it, Truda. Not the day after Piper’s debut.” Piper’s mother sounded flustered. “I’ll gladly host it another time.”
“Mary Breckinridge will only be here in Louisville that one day before she continues on to Chicago. To raise money for her work in the mountains.”
“What work did you say that was?”
“The Frontier Nursing Service. Nurse midwives in the Appalachian Mountains. She is one of the Breckinridges, you know. Very socially prominent.”
“They have society in the mountains?”
Piper, eavesdropping from the next room, smiled at the surprised tone of her mother’s voice and moved closer to the door to not miss Truda’s answer. She admired her aunt’s persuasive skills. Piper could rarely talk her mother into anything.
“No, no. Mary Breckinridge is the socially connected one,” Truda said. “The people in the mountains, well, I’m sure they have social connections. Just nothing like what you are thinking. They depend on their extended families, or so I’ve heard.”
“I’ve heard the families are forever feuding with one another. That they might shoot you with very little provocation.”
“You can’t believe everything you hear.”
“Are you saying they don’t carry guns as the pictures depict? Or make moonshine?” Piper had no trouble imagining her mother peering at Truda with raised eyebrows.
“I’m sure they do have guns for hunting, and I won’t say moonshine isn’t made. Life is hard on those hillside farms without any conveniences. No electricity or running water in their drafty cabins.”
“That does sound dreadful.”
“Yes, well, they do lack much we take for granted, including access to medical care. That’s why Mary Breckinridge started her Frontier Nursing Service in Hyden. But with so much poverty in that area, she depends on donations to support her nurses who ride horses up into the hills to help mothers have babies in their homes.”
“Nurses on horseback. How peculiar. Why don’t they use motorcars?”
“No proper roads. But doesn’t it grab your imagination to think about nurses on horseback? They carry their nursing supplies in saddlebags.”
“I suppose.” Piper’s mother sounded far from convinced. “Perhaps we can send a donation.”
“She would really like to talk to several ladies.” Truda kept pushing her. “It’s only a little tea. I’ll hire the pastries made. We won’t put that on your Della. All she will need to do is heat water for the tea and make coffee. That’s hardly anything.”
“Then I’ll heat the water and make coffee.” Truda sounded as if she was struggling to stay patient. “Piper can serve, and I’ll recruit a daughter of one of the other ladies to help. Another debutante. It can count on their community service.”
That, of course, was Truda’s telling blow. A debutante was required to do volunteer work.
“Oh, very well.” Piper’s mother had given in. “I can never say no to you, but if I am too exhausted to attend after Piper’s debut, as I may very well be, then you will just have to assume the hostess duties.”
But exhausted or not, her mother was not going to miss being in the midst of all these ladies to hear what they had to say about her party. More hers than Piper’s. So now she was basking in the praise the others showered on her.
Piper received her own share of compliments as some of the ladies went on and on about her dress.
She smiled as if she agreed, but said dress was in a heap on a chair in her room. She would have stuffed it in the trash bin, except that seemed such a waste of material. No way would she ever wear it again. She much preferred the white blouse and dark blue skirt Truda had asked her to wear today.
Lynette, the other girl Truda recruited, wore a similar outfit. “We look like maids,” she complained. “All we lack is aprons.”
“We are acting as maids,” Piper said.
“I am not a maid.” Lynette sniffed. “You can hire people for events like this, you know.”
Piper simply smiled at the girl. She was younger than Piper. Barely eighteen. In ten years she would be married to a suitable husband, dressed to the nines, and perched on a chair at a social event somewhere, waiting to be served. Piper shivered at the thought of sitting beside her. She wanted more out of life than an endless round of teas and parties, but she could feel the push to conform to expectations.
She looked across at Truda talking with the guest of honor, Mary Breckinridge. As they stood together, the other women in the room kept glancing toward them. Both were impressive women. No one would call Truda pretty, but she had an air about her. Mrs. Breckinridge lacked Truda’s height, but she had the same commanding presence.
Neither of them had conformed to anything. Truda had little patience for the niceties of social conversation. If she had something to say, she said it with no concern about the gentle ears around her.
While Mrs. Breckinridge appeared to possess some of the same directness, she had a certain grace and charm that had the ladies anxious to hear what she had come to share with them. She was smiling, self-possessed, and seemingly without the least concern about what she or anyone else in the room was wearing. At the same time, she appeared to be aware of everything. Piper had the feeling that if Mrs. Breckinridge were to raise her hand, those in the room would fall silent for her to speak.
“She’s sort of frumpy looking, don’t you think?” Lynette whispered.
“Who?” Piper was puzzled. Frumpy didn’t fit anyone in the room in their colorful afternoon dresses and hats.
“That woman. Mrs. Breckinridge. In a plain navy suit, and look at her shoes with hardly a heel.”
Piper glanced at Mrs. Breckinridge’s shoes. “They look very comfortable.”
“What does comfort have to do with anything? A person has to keep up appearances. Just as you did last night in that beautiful dress. You looked as though you were floating on air.” Lynette sighed. “And why not? Dancing with the gorgeous Braxton Crandall. We all should be that lucky.”
“You’ll have your debut ball soon.”
“Oh yes. Next month. Mother wanted to have it in June, the height of the season.” The girl did have the grace to look a bit flustered when she realized how her words sounded. “Not that May isn’t a wonderful time for a debut. Your ball was a fabulous start to the season.”
“Yes, and I am very glad to have it over with.”
“Really?” Lynette’s eyes widened.
“Really.” Piper pointed to the tray of strawberry-and-chocolate truffles and the teapot. “Which would you like to serve?”
“No way am I pouring tea.” Lynette reached for the truffles. “I’d be sure to spill it on somebody and never hear the end of it forever after.”
“Right. There would go your chances of getting a position as a maid.” Piper picked up the teapot and a napkin. That sounded entirely too much like Truda. Her mother would be mortified, but sometimes a person just had to say something.
She didn’t want to go to Lynette’s debut anyway. She didn’t care if she went to any more parties. That included this tea. She hadn’t been riding for weeks, with all the preparations for her debutante ball. But the same as her mother, she could never say no to Truda.
“Meeting Mary Breckinridge will be well worth one more day indoors,” Truda had said when she arrived at the house that morning and noted Piper longingly looking out at the sunshine. “She’s a horsewoman too. She rode up and down every hill in Eastern Kentucky searching for the right location for her Frontier Nursing venture.”
Now Piper carefully filled Mrs. Breckinridge’s china cup.
“Thank you, my dear. I am so pleased that someone here does know how to brew a proper cup of tea.” Mrs. Breckinridge raised her cup to breathe in the aroma before she took a sip. “I do love my tea.”
Piper smiled. “Mother and my aunt Truda are delighted you could come today.”
“Oh? I feared it might be a tad inconvenient for your mother. After your debut ball last night. I am aware of how involved such events can be.” Mrs. Breckinridge peered over her cup as she took another sip.
“Mother has been very busy, but she’s always ready to help others.”
“Indeed. That is very good to hear since I must depend on the kindness of those like your mother and aunt to keep my nurses’ horses in oats.” A smile turned up the woman’s lips.
Piper didn’t know whether she was serious or joking. “I suppose so.”
The woman’s smile got bigger. “I can tell by your face that I should perhaps speak about needing oats for my nurses instead of the horses if I have any hope of gaining donors today. But the horses do carry the nurses up the mountains to their patients.” She held out her cup for a refill. “Do you ride?”
“Every chance I get.”
“Excellent. You must come to the mountains and be one of our couriers.”
“Couriers? You mean someone who delivers messages?”
“Much more than that. Our girls take care of the horses. Assist the nurses with whatever is needed. At times they accompany the nurses on calls.” Mrs. Breckinridge set her teacup down on a table and turned her piercing blue eyes on Piper. “Have you ever seen a baby come into the world?” She didn’t wait for Piper to answer. “But of course you haven’t. Young women such as you are shielded from the natural events of birth and death.”
“My sister is in the family way.”
“A blessing for her, but what way are you in, Piper Danson? An endless round of parties as you seek a husband? Or perhaps you already have someone in mind.” Mrs. Breckinridge raised her eyebrows as her gaze pinned Piper in place.
“No.” Jamie popped into her mind, but Piper pushed him aside. “No one at all.”
Mrs. Breckinridge smiled. “Do I hear a little doubt in those words? Even more reason to come spend a summer in the mountains. I promise it will be an experience that will change your life. For the better.”
“My mother would never agree to that.”
The woman gave Piper a considering look. “And how old are you, my dear?” Again she didn’t wait for an answer. “Truda told me twenty. I would think that is surely old enough to make some decisions on your own.”
“Well . . . y-yes.” Piper stumbled over the words.
Mrs. Breckinridge patted her arm. “Don’t let me fret you. Just give it some thought. You have the rest of your life to wear fine clothes and gossip with your friends. But first, do something. You won’t regret it.”
Do something. Those words echoed in Piper’s head as she continued around the room, filling teacups. Serving. Not being served. But this was only one afternoon of her life. Could she find other ways to serve, to be more than a privileged young woman ready to be forever served by others? What would it be like to step into a completely different world?
Piper stood in the back of the room and listened to the stories Mrs. Breckinridge shared about the different worlds she’d seen and the work of her frontier nurses.
“In France after the Great War, I witnessed how the nurse midwives there helped the families devastated by the war. But one doesn’t have to go overseas to find need. Many families in our beautiful Appalachian mountains lack basic medical care. I determined to make it my life’s work to help such mothers and children.”
Piper was spellbound by Mary Breckinridge’s voice as she talked about the nurse midwives. They always found a way to reach their patients in spite of storms that brought high water in the spring and summer or snow and ice in the winter.
Mary Breckinridge looked around the room, letting her gaze touch on each woman there. “Some of you are mothers. Think of how it would have been when you were in the midst of the birthing pains to be alone in a remote cabin with no one to help you other than a neighbor, if that. Think then of how happy you would be to have a trained nurse midwife by your bedside to deliver that sweet baby you were so anticipating. This nurse would bring a sense of calm and control to the birthing experience. The mountain men love their wives, but they are often next to useless when it’s time for their babies to be born.” Mary Breckinridge raised her eyebrows a bit. “Didn’t you find it so with your own husbands?”
Laughter rippled through the room. A few of the women touched their midsections as if remembering the pain of childbirth. Piper looked at her mother. She had always seemed delicate, almost fragile to Piper, and yet she had borne three babies. Piper could hardly imagine her looking the way Leona did now. Off balance by the baby’s weight and with swollen feet and an aching back. Piper wanted to go right then to hug her mother.
Mrs. Breckinridge went on. “But while we are blessed with wonderful donors, we continue to have many needs. Medicines and supplies, not to mention horses and the oats they eat.” She glanced at Piper with a wink. “And if you have daughters in their late teens or early twenties, let them come to the mountains to take care of the horses and help my nurses for a few weeks. I promise they will come back to you stronger and more inspired to live a full life.”
Lynette leaned close to Piper to whisper. “Give up my debut season to clean horse stalls? Can you imagine?”
Piper didn’t answer, but she could imagine the mountains Mrs. Breckinridge described and the nurses riding their horses along the trails and through the creeks. The clip-clop of horses’ hooves and the cries of newborns sounded in her head. She did want to do something different. Something that mattered. Maybe this was it.
In the past, when Piper had wondered about her future, her mother always said doors of opportunity would open. While her mother wouldn’t be expecting Piper to go through these doors that Mrs. Breckinridge was opening, she had watched her go through others. Off to boarding school. Off to college. Now she was ready to see her at a wedding altar, but what was the hurry? Who knew if she and Braxton Crandall would even like each other enough to hope for more?
A few weeks away from all this debutante nonsense might clear Piper’s head, and the mountains could be the very cure for pining after Jamie. A sudden pang of sadness made her heart feel heavy. She had been so sure she would someday marry him. A teenage girl’s dream. She was no longer a teenager. Time to move on and dare to do something different. Shrug off the debutante title and ride off to the mountains.
The ladies collected their purses and stepped up to speak to Mrs. Breckinridge before Piper’s mother and Truda ushered them to the door. Lynette left with her mother, declaring she’d never play a maid’s role again.
Piper picked that time to approach Mrs. Breckinridge, who studied her with intense blue eyes. “Did I entice you into coming to the mountains?”
Piper saw no reason to beat around the bush. “Yes. What do I need to do next?”
“Get a train ticket. You need a sponsor, but I’m sure your aunt will be glad to do that. She’s spoken about coming to visit herself sometime this summer. How delightful it would be if you were the one to escort her around to the various centers.” Mrs. Breckinridge smiled. “Can your aunt ride?”
“If the horse is gentle enough.”
She laughed. “That is true of many of our guests. Our couriers sometimes have to be riding instructors.”
“When should I come?” Piper asked.
“Tomorrow is good. I will let them know to expect you so somebody can meet you.”
“I might need longer than that to convince Mother.”
“Don’t be so timid, my dear. Try your wings.” When Piper didn’t say anything, Mrs. Breckinridge gave her arm a little shake. “Very well. Take a few days. That’s all. The train only goes to Hazard. If our car isn’t available—and something always seems to be wrong with that vehicle—one of the girls will meet you there with a horse for the trip to Wendover.”
“Okay.” Piper tried not to sound uncertain.
“Thursday. That should give you plenty of time. You won’t need much. Riding boots. Jeans and shirts. Preferably white. I like my girls to look uniform. Helps the mountain people know who you are.” She patted Piper on the cheek. “You will love this, Piper.” She smiled and headed toward the hallway where one of the ladies waited to drive her to the train station for the next leg of her fundraising trip.
Piper’s head was spinning as though she’d just survived a whirlwind. She did want to go to the mountains and try her wings. But Thursday? This was Sunday. What was her mother going to say?