Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, 1892
E
mmeline Weidner and her father followed her sisters down the aisle to the organist’s rendition of the wedding march. Her worst fear of tripping over her dress, or worse, her own feet, hadn’t happened, so far. Her father placed her hand into Malcom’s, and retreated to his seat beside her mother. Apart from a few throats being cleared, the sanctuary quieted.
Brother Herndon said, “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony.”
She glanced over at her groom, smiled, and realized he was whiter than her dress. Sweat beaded his forehead and upper lip, and for a moment, she thought he might faint. As calmly as possible, she’d whispered, “Malcolm, are you, all right?”
For a moment, his eyes focused on everything but her. Finally, he kissed the back of her hand, looked up, and said, “I hope you can forgive me.”
She watched him leave by the side door with his best man in close pursuit.
What had just happened . . . or hadn’t happened?
She stood at the altar, her eyes closed, with her back to the hundreds of guests seated in the scrolled oak pews. She made a quick mental rundown of the way things should be, right now. Her older sister, Laurel, was to her left, holding her bouquet. Her twin, Adeline, was beside Laurel. The preacher stood in front of her, Bible in hand, waiting to begin the ceremony. It seemed they were all waiting . . . for the groom.
After what seemed like hours, Laurel leaned toward her. “Emmeline, what do you want to do?”
“I don’t know.” She concentrated on the toes of her satin slippers peeking out from beneath her skirt. What was
she to do? Glancing to her left, she asked, “Is it tomorrow yet?”
Laurel moved even closer to ask, “Shall I send Papa to see what the holdup is?”
“I suppose so.” She agreed to the search, but she didn’t really think her fiancé was coming back.
Her father, Peter Weidner, returned in a few minutes, stood by her side, and said, “Folks, I have an announcement.” When the hum of voices quieted, he continued, “There will be no wedding today. We’d be obliged if you all will join us outside for lunch and refreshments.”
She stared straight ahead as the guests filed out into the churchyard behind her. When she was left alone with her family, she asked her father, “Where is he?”
“Gone.”
“What do you mean, gone
?”
“Malcolm has left the church. He asked me to tell you he’s sorry.”
Folding her arms across her middle, she turned and sat on the altar steps before her knees buckled. Surprise and disbelief washed over her, along with anger at his cowardice. All the months of planning the wedding, the parties, brunches, and innumerable festivities celebrating their engagement, not to mention the minute details for the wedding. From choosing the flowers, to out-of-town guests arriving, and final dress fittings filled her head
The pace had been nothing short of frenzied. She had dealt with it all, with the help of her mother and sisters, making sure it went off without a hitch, and now he was gone?
“What do I do first?” she asked, her mind already swirling with social obligations.
Adelaide Weidner, her mother, took hold of her hand. “You don’t have to do anything today, darling. Let’s go home and take a day to recover from the shock. We’ll make decisions tomorrow.”
“But we have guests and there are the gifts to return,” she lamented.
“Don’t worry,” Adelaide soothed, as she and Laurel helped her to stand. “Everyone will eat and drink champagne until there’s none left, and everything else will be there when you’re ready to take care of it. Now, let’s go home.”
Emmeline awoke the next morning, frantic and breathing as if she’d run the length of a city block. Her dream and yesterday’s recent horror whirled in her head like the winds of a spring tornado. Unfortunately, in the morning’s light, the nightmare of losing for her cowardly fiancé hadn’t changed. As far as she knew, Malcom Trasker was still missing, the spineless rat leaving left her to face all of Philadelphia society on her own. The son of one of the more prominent families in the city, people had said her marriage to Malcolm would be a match for the century. The merging of their father’s companies would assure the ongoing economic prosperity of both their families.
She considered pulling the covers over her head and hiding in her room for the rest of her life, but she despised weak women. Her sense of duty to her family and her responsibility to her own reputation compelled her to reject her own thoughts of cowardice. Somehow, she had to summon the courage to face the scandalous position before her.
She straightened her shoulders, pulled the cord to signal her maid. She decided, if she was going to begin her life anew, she wanted to start with one of her finest dresses to show her family and, more importantly herself, she had the willpower and the strength to face this situation head on while looking her best.
Going forward, she would view this experience as a lesson learned and use it as an opportunity to move ahead with her life in a positive way. She didn’t quite know what that would entail yet, or how she would go about it, but her life could only get better without that weasel, Malcolm, in it.
Emmeline entered the dining room and found her mother and sisters finishing their breakfast. Laurel and Adeline had their heads together, speaking softly, while her mother sipped her morning coffee, nodding in their direction, as if she agreed with what they were saying.
She poured herself a cup and joined them, sitting across from her twin.
“What are you two talking about?” she asked, as if she didn’t already know.
“The girls and I were discussing a plan for your future. We had hoped to have it in place before you came downstairs.” Adelaide’s statement was matter-of-fact but not to be challenged. She spooned a small bite of peach jam onto her toast and took a bite.
“Now, Mother,” Emmeline said calmly, “I’m perfectly capable of planning my own future.” She hoped she sounded more confident than she felt. The words barely squeezed past the narrowed opening of her throat. Adelaide Weidner might be an obedient wife, but as a mother, she ruled with an iron fist.
“I know you think so, darling,” Adelaide said. “But, at twenty, you’re still a baby when it comes to making decisions. Which is why you need your family or a husband to help you.”
The tightly wound curls surrounding Emmeline’s face nearly came unspooled from their pins. She so wanted to lash out at her mother, but curbed her temper, lest she be sent to her room.
“But, you and father let Laurel go live with Aunt Lottie. Why can’t I do the same thing?”
“Because I trusted my sister, Carlotta, to care for you girls, and since the tornado carried her away, there’s no one else.”
Emmeline refused to stop fighting for herself, so she pleaded, “Aunt Paisley would let me live with her.”
“Goodness, no,” Adelaide said, “I love my baby sister, but Paisley Herndon doesn’t have the sense God gave a goose. She wakes up in a new world every day.”
Emmeline saw Laurel move her head from side-to-side, her eyes silently telling her to cease this line of approach. While Emmeline knew her mother was more stubborn than all of them put together, she still didn’t want to let the topic go. It was too important to her, but for the time being, she tamped down her urge to continue.
“Mother,” Laurel said, “I may have a solution that will carry Emmeline out of the crosshairs of Philadelphia gossip.”
“What, pray, would that be, and would your father approve?”
“I believe so.” Laurel smiled, apparently pleased with herself, and continued when Adelaide remained silent. “Well, I was thinking, since it’s time for me to get back home, why not let Emmeline accompany me and the girls to Arkansas?”
“I would need to talk it over with your father, but I can see the advantages.”
Emmeline could see advantages, too. Most importantly, she would be on her own, without the scrutiny of her parents. Yes, Laurel and her husband, Griffin, would be there, but carefree images of laying on a blanket by the river reading a book, or playing with Laurel’s step-daughters flashed across her mind. Moving to Arkansas with her older sister and getting to see that part of the country could be fun. When she came out of her daydreams, Laurel was speaking.
“Emmeline? Are you listening?”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I was saying, if you come home with me to Flat Rock Point, I can teach you all I’ve learned about running a house and a farm.”
“But, I—” she started.
“Oh, please, say you’ll come with us. I get so lonely for family.”
“Of course, she’ll go with you. I’ll go pave the way with your father about the decision, and then have Berta begin packing your things, Emmeline.” Adelaide stood and left the room with a determined look on her face.
“Are you really going to make me work…like a maid
?” Suddenly, her initial idea of life on the frontier being fun sounded more like it had the potential for a nightmare.
“Well I dare say it won’t hurt you any,” Laurel said with a smile. “Would you rather stay here and face the wagging tongues and sorrowful stares?”
“But it wasn’t my fault,” Emmeline said. “Malcolm left me
.”
“While that’s true, they will still paint you as damaged. You know how it works once all the gossip gets started. In the end, it will be your fault, not Malcolm’s. In our circles, the woman is always to blame.” Laurel reached over and patted her arm. “What do you say?”
Emmeline closed her eyes and rubbed her throbbing temple. She deliberated her options, quickly deciding Laurel was right on all points. She loved her sister dearly, and reconciled her best option was to travel cross-country to another state. Who knew, perhaps this would be her grand adventure. She leveled her gaze at her dearest older sister.
“When do we leave?”
Flat Rock Point, Arkansas
Lincoln Bass glanced around the area of the train depot. From this vantage point on the platform, the town looked much the same as it had when he’d left. The bulk of the businesses and homes sat on the eastern side, the lesser developed side lay off to the west, with the tracks and station slicing through the middle. The entire town was surrounded by timberland made up mostly of pine trees.
What, the hell, am I doing back here?
He’d asked himself this question repeatedly, since he’d received the telegram from his friend and left his home in Little Rock yesterday. But, he knew the answer. He owed Griffin Benning for the very air he breathed and would do anything the man needed to thank him for saving his life. Suddenly, the memories of the accident last year, still too fresh, flooded his mind, and the breeze chilled his body through his sweat-soaked shirt.
He had come to Flat Rock Point from the mill at Little Rock to help for the summer. He’d been a lumberjack for most of his adult life and much preferred to work outdoors than to sit inside an office, at a desk.
Mid-summer, Griffin had begun to worry about a pine tree that was leaning over his home. He’d been concerned the tree might fall and hit the structure or, worse yet, injure his wife and daughters. They’d carefully put a team together, studying every angle, but in the end, the tree had defied all their experience.
Griffin and the loggers had worked for hours cutting him out from that dank and prickly, pine scented tomb. Remarkably, aside from his severely broken left leg, he’d only received minor cuts and bruises. In the months that followed, he had recuperated at Griffin’s house, growing close to the family. Thanks to their efforts and hospitality, he had healed physically, although he would most certainly always walk with a limp. Mentally though, in the quiet hours before dawn, his nightmares would carry him back to that dark place, waking, more often than not, to the sinister sound of the tree trunk’s snap, just before it fell.
The train’s whistle brought him back to the present. He picked up his valise and went inside the depot. Finding the waiting area empty, he went to the ticket agent’s window.
The young man, wearing a black coat, bowtie, and black conductor’s hat, spoke first, “Mr. Bass?”
“Yes, how do you know me?”
“M-Mr. B-Benning said you were coming on the two o’clock, and you were the only one to get off, so I thought. . .”
“Of course.” He tempered his tone, as it was obvious he’d rattled the poor agent. “Did Mr. Benning say anything else?”
“H-He left you this.” Cautiously, he slid an envelope through the opening.
Linc wanted to laugh, but managed to maintain his composure. “Thank you,” he said, took the note, and walked back outside. He figured he’d harassed the agent enough for one day.
Setting his valise onto the wooden planked deck, he opened the envelope and read:
Lincoln,
Sorry I couldn’t meet you as planned. My wife and children came in on an earlier train. I’ve made arrangements for your transportation with Jasper Dunlevey at the Livery. Please come straight to the house. We are looking forward to seeing you again.
Griffin
He had hoped to speak with Griffin here in town, where he wouldn’t have to return to the scene of his accident. Unfortunately, that wasn’t to be the case. Well, he’d just have to deal with the change in plans. Pulling himself together, he started walking in the direction of the livery stable on Main Street. The sooner he got to the Benning house, the sooner he could face down the demon that held him captive. Once he’d done that, perhaps the nightmares would begin to abate.
Emmeline placed the last of her things from her trunk into the dresser drawers and armoire. She hadn’t brought near what she needed, but Laurel had promised a trip to Little Rock to shop for necessities. She’d already thought of a few items and started a list.
She looked around the room, located on the third floor, and was disappointed at the lack of decoration. While there were pillows, blankets and such, she missed her childhood home with its familiar adornments and special touches. It was hard for her to criticize Laurel, whom she adored, but to live in a place where there were no maids or cooks or simple everyday amenities, well . . . thank heavens there was an indoor bathroom. She absolutely could not fathom using a privy.
Muffled voices from downstairs reminded her she should go down and help Laurel prepare food for the evening meal. Just at that moment, the door opened.
“Here you are!” Laurel said, stepping inside. “I had fixed the bedroom on the second floor, next to the girls’ room, for you.”
“Oh, I just assumed since I had stayed here before, this was where I’d be. It’s larger and I like the windows, may I stay?”
“Of course.” Laurel opened the windows and fussed with the curtains. “We’ll move everything up here. I tried to think of anything you might need, but if there’s something I missed, let me know, and we’ll do our best to get it for you.”
“Thank you, sister. I’ve already begun a list for our trip to Little Rock.”
“Don’t forget, now, Mother, Father and Adeline will be here for the whole month of December. They can bring any special items you might like to have.”
“Laurel,” she said, as her older sister turned to leave.
“Yes?”
“I appreciate you and Griffin inviting me to live with you, but I have to be honest. I don’t know if I can stay for any length of time.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know if I can live like this.” She clasped her hands together, and glanced at her surroundings, then at her white knuckles to avoid looking into Laurel’s eyes. “I hate to admit it, but I’m horribly spoiled to a different way of life.”
Laurel laughed. “Emmeline Weidner, I’m your sister, and believe me, I know that fact better than you. Now, get your clothes changed and come downstairs to give me some help. All right?”
“All right. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
She unfastened the jacket of the heavy linen suit she’d chosen for travel and slipped it off. Immediately, the cross breeze between the two open windows cooled her skin, reminding her again she’d chosen the wrong travel clothes. She hadn’t taken into account the weight of the linen and the warmer temperature of the south, when she’d selected her ensemble. She’d only considered how the deep lavender shade made her eyes look. They were her best feature, in her opinion, and when she wore lavender, they appeared to sparkle like brilliant amethysts.
Energized after shedding the heavy jacket, she quickly came out of her bodice and skirts all the way down to her camisole and drawers. She hadn’t felt this carefree since they’d left Philadelphia. Despite the fact she was a grown woman of twenty and a lady, she waltzed about the room, while singing, In the Good Old Summertime
. After the last twirl, she bent over to pick her skirt up off the floor.
She heard the door open, and said, “Oh, good, you haven’t gone downstairs yet. I could use some extra hangars.”
When silence greeted her, she turned and sucked in so much air she nearly strangled on her own spit. Coughing and trying to breathe, she covered herself with the deep lavender linen. A tall, sturdy man with a thick chest and broad shoulders filled the doorway. He stared at her but didn’t say anything.
After a few seconds, she found her voice, and finally managed, “Good golly, who are you?”