2

For Abrianna Cunningham, anything related to cooking was a chore. Nevertheless, days after the “Great Bread Ignominy,” as she had come to call it, she found herself making cookies. She liked cookies well enough. In fact, she loved sneaking huge numbers out of the school to give away to all the homeless sailors and orphans she’d befriended. Aunt Miriam was always horrified at this, chiding Abrianna for taking off unaccompanied and befriending old men who were of questionable repute.

Abrianna laughed this off, for since she’d been a child she had sneaked out to visit the docks and surrounding city. Everyone knew her and looked after her like a wayward little sister. And she liked that. It suited her nature to be sister to the entire world. Besides, by slipping out to venture forth on her own, Abrianna had become well acquainted with the city life of Seattle. She knew where she could finagle extra food or a blanket or two for her homeless friends. Abrianna also learned to avoid the more dangerous areas of town, including places where the staunch church matrons might see her. They would only condemn her aunties for such behavior, and Abrianna couldn’t bear the thought. Her aunts were good women, and when others questioned their actions or attitudes, Abrianna always found herself feeling overprotective—even unforgiving.

Of course, she always did forgive them in the end. By the time she said her evening prayers, her conscience wouldn’t allow her to continue in hard-hearted anger. But it was only after asking God to sear the old biddies’ hearts with a desire for mercy and kindness, and to remind them that gossip was a sin, that Abrianna truly repented.

Now as Abrianna juggled two cookie pans into the oven, she tried to focus on why she was there. Aunt Miriam was determined she learn to cook. Aunt Selma was just as determined she become an accomplished seamstress, while Aunt Poisie was less imposing—an amusing play on words that made Abrianna giggle. She often said that Aunt Poisie did not “impoisie” herself on folks. Just as often, Aunt Miriam requested that she keep such thoughts to herself.

“At your age, Abrianna, you should comport yourself in a more ladylike manner,” she could hear Aunt Miriam say.

But the trouble was, Abrianna didn’t care about being a lady. Nor was she particularly happy about growing up. Growing up brought with it a great many requirements and responsibilities that Abrianna would just as soon not worry about. For instance, it was thought to be quite socially unacceptable for her to visit the docks or even go to see her lifelong friend, Wade Ackerman, at his little shop, much less “mill about town,” as Aunt Selma called it. Not only that, but she was expected to wear her hair up and her skirts down—down to her boot tops. And she didn’t even want to think about gloves. Couldn’t her aunts understand that she would only soil them when visiting Wade’s wagon shop or when giving food to one of the hungry?

“You look deep in thought.”

Abrianna startled and put her hand to her breast. “Speak of the devil.”

“What?” Wade Ackerman asked in confusion. He glanced around as if looking for someone else.

“Oh, not really. I do apologize. That was rather harsh and uncalled for. You aren’t at all like the devil. You have morals and values that would make the devil quite uncomfortable.” She smiled. “Let me start again. Good afternoon, Wade. What brings you to the Madison Bridal School?”

He laughed and pushed back a strand of brown hair in annoyance. “I don’t think my new hair tonic has quite the hold it’s been boasting.”

“I can’t say that I’m surprised,” Abrianna declared in a self-assured manner. “What can you expect from a product produced by the Hoggleson Brothers? I mean, the name suggests something less than tidy.” She noted his slicked-back hair. Other than the single errant strand, Wade looked quite well groomed. Except that he had a two-, possibly three-day growth of beard.

“Did you lose your razor?”

“What?”

“You need a shave,” she said, pointing to his face.

Wade touched his hand to his chin. “I suppose I do. I’ve been busy.” He rubbed his finger along the stubble under his nose. “You do realize mustaches are all the rage now.”

“I just don’t believe it becomes you. Your appearance isn’t enhanced by the hair. You just look . . . well . . . hairy.” She shook her head. “I suppose there is nothing to be done about it right now. What are you working on at present?” Abrianna settled herself on a kitchen chair. She liked her casual talks with Wade. Their friendship had survived all sorts of ups and downs, and Wade was very much like the older brother she’d never had but always wanted.

He joined her at the table. “I’ve been making repairs to the depot wagons. They sure go through a great deal of wear, and I can’t say that the workers in charge of them ever think to properly care for them.”

“Maybe they’re too busy,” Abrianna suggested with a raised brow and tilt of her head. She cocked her head to the other side. “Honestly, I’m not sure I can continue to converse with you and that beard. I really find it distracting.”

Wade laughed. “You would send me away because I didn’t have time to shave? I only stopped by to return some dishes. I set them down over there.” He pointed. “You didn’t even hear me come in.”

“I was preoccupied with collective thoughts of great importance,” she defended. “I am not a mindless ninny, Mr. Ackerman. I spend many an hour contemplating.”

He grinned and leaned back against the very table where Abrianna had failed at bread making. “And what, pray tell, do you have need to contemplate?”

She was taken aback. Did he not realize she was a woman of deep thinking? Goodness, they’d known each other for most of their lives, and somehow he had missed this point. Were all men so blind? “I contemplate a great many things.”

He crossed his arms against his chest. “So give me an example. Tell me what goes through that fiery red head of yours.”

“My hair is not fiery. It’s a honeyed auburn. At least that’s what Aunt Poisie calls it.” She wasn’t sure if she agreed, since honey had many shades, and who was to say which hue a person might think of when such a remark was made. “Lenore says it’s more of a gold-touched cinnamon, but Aunt Poisie is most insistent.”

“All right. What goes on in that honeyed-auburn, gold-touched cinnamon head of yours.”

“Well, my head isn’t really colored either one. It’s only the hair that could be called by that name.”

He shook his head in frustration. “I give up.”

“Well, if you must know,” Abrianna said, mimicking his exasperation, “I’m still quite undone by the entire Chinese matter.”

Wade looked at her a moment and then rubbed his chin as if contemplating a puzzle. “What do you mean?”

“The way they rounded the Chinese up and tried to force them from the city,” she replied. “Have you forgotten?”

“That was two years ago, and the matter was somewhat resolved. As I recall, they were allowed to remain.”

“Some were, but others had already been sent away. A good number of people of whom I was fond were loaded like cattle onto ships for market.”

“I didn’t realize you had so many close relationships. I thought you were mostly fond of the Chinese for their food,” Wade said with a chuckle.

Abrianna fixed him with a glare. “While I did enjoy their food, I was also quite taken with their culture and traditions. I learned a great deal from our kitchen girl, Liang. She has told me many stories about her life in China. You do remember that her parents and sisters were some of those sent away. Liang thought she and her family would all be killed, but she managed to escape before her family was put on a ship. She was left destitute and betrayed by the very society that should have rallied to her protection.”

“But they did rally . . . well, some of them did. Besides, what can you do about it now? Your aunts took in Liang, and she’s now safe and well cared for. And her family was able to resettle in San Francisco with relatives. Liang chose to remain here in your aunt’s employ. That’s hardly destitute or without friends.”

“That’s true enough.” Abrianna shifted against the ladder-backed chair. “But I’m still deeply offended by what happened and by the prejudice that remains. Poor Liang was but twelve. How terrible to be taken from the people you love. And she wasn’t the only one, Wade, as you well know.

“This city should answer for what they did. Not only that, but one of the biggest supporters, that Mary Kenworthy—” Abrianna jumped to her feet and began to pace, all the while waving her arms to accentuate her speech in case Wade somehow missed her distress. “She continues her ugly disapproval of the presence of Chinese in Seattle. She believes them to be the cause of so many white men having no work, but you tell me what white man would be caught dead working at the jobs some of the Chinese are doing.” She stopped, arms akimbo. “Just tell me.”

“Well, I didn’t mean to work you up into a lather.” He shook his head. “Now I can see why you’re preoccupied most of the time. Your mind must never stop churning.”

Abrianna sighed. “You have no idea. It’s quite a labor to be me.”

Wade’s face screwed up. “Is that smoke I smell?”

Glancing around the kitchen, Abrianna saw the gray cloud rising from the oven. “Oh, fie. I forgot my cookies. I put the blame on your facial hair.” She hurried to the stove and opened the door. Thick smoke caused her to cough, and for a moment rendered her senseless. She reached into the hot oven, but Wade jumped toward her, pushing her aside.

“Move back. Let me get it.” Wade took up a dish towel and doubled it twice before pulling the burning cookies from the oven. “You could have seriously burned your hands, Abrianna, reaching into the oven like that. What were you thinking?” He placed the smoldering discs atop the stove and stared at them. “Some of them aren’t too bad.” He cleared his throat.

Abrianna frowned. With a spatula in hand she flipped one of the cookies over to reveal the burned bottom. “Aunt Miriam will never allow this.”

He shrugged and gave her a smile. “She doesn’t have to know. I can help you scrape off the bottoms where they’re burned.”

“She’ll smell the smoke. I’m surprised she isn’t here already. If she wasn’t busy showing her students how to properly dye cloth, I’m sure she’d be wondering what catastrophe I had brought about this time.”

Wade quickly went to the windows and opened first one and then another. “The room will air, and since the kitchen door is closed, I doubt the smell went further than right here.”

“I suppose we can hope such a miracle will befall us.” Abrianna moved the cookies to a plate for cooling. “Goodness, I had such high expectations for this batch.” She poked at one of the cookies. “Aunt Miriam says I’m likely to be an old maid for all of my life.” Abrianna looked Wade in the eye. “I think she has given up hope for my chances at matrimony, despite running a school for brides.” She paused, most contrite. “I am her deepest sorrow.”

Wade laughed. “Abrianna, you are no one’s sorrow. Now, let’s get to scraping those cookies.”

They had been working on the cookies for nearly ten minutes when Abrianna heard the unmistakable sound of shoes on the back staircase. “It’s Aunt Miriam. She’s coming to survey my accomplishments. Hurry and close the windows, or she’ll know for sure what a mess I’ve made.”

Wade did as instructed while Abrianna scooped the mess of blackened crumbs into the garbage pail and quickly covered it with some potato peels she had left over from earlier tasks. They both hurried back to the counter just as Miriam Madison entered the room. For a moment the older woman stood frozen in place, narrowing her eyes. Her expression suggested that she knew something to be amiss but couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

“Wade,” she finally said with a nod, “it’s good to see you again. I have another job for you, if you’re of a mind. Oh goodness, are you growing a mustache?”

“Not exactly.” He smiled. “Why don’t we go out to the parlor and discuss the job you have for me?” He offered his arm in a gentlemanly fashion. “My, don’t you look lovely today, Mrs. Madison.”

Abrianna barely heard her aunt’s reply, but she was most grateful to have avoided a reprimand. Perhaps that would come later. Little ever escaped Aunt Miriam’s fine sense of order. She had an uncanny way of knowing when things were amiss. Abrianna smiled and prayed that should her aunt turn back, she would see her ward relaxed and happy. Maybe that would assuage her aunt’s concerns.

But it was not to be. Aunt Miriam turned at the door with a look of disappointment. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but then closed it and shook her head. Abrianna had no doubt she knew what had taken place and was deeply grieved.

Oh, bother. I can’t seem to do anything right. Sometimes I contemplate whether God made a mistake in making me, but of course God doesn’t make mistakes. Still, I can’t help but wonder just what He was thinking.

Wade sat waiting for Mrs. Madison’s final instructions. Like the former schoolmistress that she was, the woman didn’t miss any point.

“I do hope you understand, Wade. It must be done in such a way as to completely eliminate the drafts.”

“I believe I can master the repair you need.”

The request was for Wade to repair cracks around the windows on the third floor, and Mrs. Madison had even shown him how she perceived the job to be accomplished. Wade was just about to get up and excuse himself when Mrs. Gibson and Miss Poisie Holmes entered the parlor.

“Why, Mr. Ackerman, we hadn’t realized you’d come to visit.” Miss Poisie sat opposite him. “It’s so nice to have a gentleman caller.” She looked to her older sister as if she’d made a mistake and added, “On a day other than our normal receiving days.” She glanced back to Wade and gave a quick bobbing of the head before lapsing into silence. Miss Poisie was often outdone in conversation by the two older women, and she knew her place.

“What brings you here today?” Mrs. Gibson asked. “Did you have a premonition that we were in need of your skills? You know, God often lays a thought on a person’s heart when others are in need.”

“That’s true,” Mrs. Madison murmured.

“Yes,” Miss Poisie added, again bobbing her head as if it had come loose at the back of her neck.

“I can’t say that I had any premonition, Mrs. Gibson. I actually figured to return your dishes. The food you ladies sent home with me last Sunday was quite substantial, and it saw me through until today.”

“I’m so glad that nothing is amiss.” Mrs. Gibson waved a handkerchief to her face. “I do worry in these difficult times that there are things amiss for which I have little knowledge.” She leaned forward rather conspiratorially and added, “It troubles me deeply.”

Wade might have chuckled had the woman not been so serious. The three ladies were sometimes amusing to him in their unfounded frets and concerns. It seemed to Wade that if anyone could create a situation of great apprehension and despair, it was the ladies of the Madison Bridal School.

“So what do you hear around the city?” Mrs. Madison questioned. “I read in the paper that there were problems with the steam pipes at the Spring Hill Water Company. I do hope that matter was resolved.”

“Oh dear, yes,” Mrs. Gibson said in a most foreboding manner. “A city without water is a frightening thing.”

Wade didn’t bother to point out that there were other sources of water. Instead, he offered a smile of comfort. “It has been resolved, and water is once again being pumped. I have that on the best authority.”

“What a relief,” Miss Poisie said, both hands covering her heart. “Bless the Lord for His favor.”

“Indeed, Sister,” Mrs. Madison replied.

“Mr. Gibson used to find such things quite fascinating,” Mrs. Gibson said as she began settling back into her seat. “You know he was a man of science—”

“God rest his soul,” Miss Poisie interjected, as she always did when mention was made of the dead.

“Amen,” the other women replied in unison.

It was an act Wade was familiar with and had come to expect. He nodded, as if approving their prayer.

“Of course, he dabbled in things he would have been better to leave alone,” Mrs. Gibson said in her ominous way. “He read those things written by Robert Chambers and”—again she leaned forward as if to share something that her present company had yet to learn—“that Darwin man.”

Miss Poisie gave a shudder.

It was always the same. Wade wasn’t annoyed by the repeat performance at all. To the contrary, the consistent presentation amused him and endeared the older women to him more each time.

“I’m certain that it grieved our God in heaven.” Mrs. Gibson shook her head.

“Amen,” the sisters agreed.

“I hope you will never partake of such things, Mr. Ackerman,” Mrs. Gibson lectured.

“No, ma’am. I have no desire for such things.”

“That’s wise of you. Very wise. Mr. Gibson should have been blessed with such wisdom. He wasn’t at all given to reading such nonsense when we first married. I believe in truth it’s why he suffered apoplexy—bleeding on the brain, don’t you know. It was to my great shame and embarrassment.” She looked very much the martyred soul. “He was unable to speak or move in his final months, and I am certain that was visited upon him for his promiscuous affair with such dark sciences as evolution and astronomy. I endeavored to save him for God, however, until the day he passed on.”

“God rest his soul,” Miss Poisie murmured. She looked as if the sorrow was too great to bear.

“Amen.”

Wade found himself murmuring the word in unison. Their conviction that this was a most troubling situation was sincere, and he would never tell them that he questioned some of their beliefs.

“I read the Bible to him every day of his remaining life,” Mrs. Gibson said with a look that suggested she’d gotten the upper hand in a game of cards. Not that the old ladies would ever allow for such items in the house, much less to partake of their purposes. “I read the Scriptures from cover to cover until the day I found him passed on to glory. To glory—if God would have him; although I’ve never been entirely assured God could forgive such grave misjudgments.”

“Is anything too difficult for God, Mrs. Gibson?” Wade hadn’t meant to ask the question aloud. He certainly had no desire to offend the women.

But rather than be offended, Mrs. Gibson nodded thoughtfully and put her index finger alongside her temple. “That, Mr. Ackerman, is a very good question. I shall endeavor to ponder it for some time to come.”

Wade smiled. “I’m glad to have shared your company, ladies, but I really must get back to my work. I’ll try to come on Saturday to fix those windows for you.” He stood and bowed to each woman.

“We shall look forward to your coming.” Mrs. Madison rose from her seat. The other ladies did likewise. “We pray you have an easy labor today.”

He nodded, remembering the pile of work that waited. “I pray so, too.”

Just then Mrs. Madison turned and sniffed the air. “Do you smell something burning?”

Wade blanched and moved toward the door in a hurry. “Good day, ladies.” He hurried down the hall to where he’d left his hat. He chided himself for being a coward, but he had no desire to try to once again distract Mrs. Madison. For all he knew, Abrianna had just burned down the kitchen.