15

Patience gasped, and her hands flew to her mouth. “Mother! What on earth!” she exclaimed as the woman stepped out of the shadows. “Whatever are you doing here in Nevada City? And waiting here in the dark? You could have gone inside—”

“Well, dear, is that any way to greet your mother?” Charity Cavanaugh asked archly. “I couldn’t very well go into the building this late without a key, could I? And it seems everyone has gone to bed—with the exception of you, of course.” She turned her head to look at Jedediah, then back to Patience. “Don’t you think it’s rather late to be out? And without a proper chaperone?” She didn’t wait for an answer but continued her chiding. “You certainly must remember, don’t you, that this cool mountain air is bad for my rheumatism and my heart?”

No hug, nor even an “I’ve missed you.” The same attitude and comments that had compelled Patience to leave home. “Mother, you should have told me you were coming, and I would have made certain I was home.” Patience took a tentative step toward the woman.

Charity waved a delicate white hanky, dismissing Patience’s explanation. “Please take me to a room with a nice, warm bed, and I’ll be grateful. Much better than that dusty old stage ride to get here.”

Patience sighed and silently prayed that the visit would be a short one. “Mother,” she said, turning, “I’d like you to meet Jedediah Jones. He’s our town’s marshal.” She motioned with her hand. “Jed, this is my mother, Charity Cavanaugh.”

Her mother turned to take another look at Jedediah. “So, you’re on a first-name basis with my daughter?” she said, the short, clipped tone all too familiar.

“How do, ma’am,” Jedediah said, quickly sweeping off his hat. “Mighty nice to meet you.” He reached out his hand, which her mother barely touched with her leather-gloved fingertips.

She’s already passed judgment on him. Patience knew it didn’t matter that her mother didn’t know anything about him. Charity wanted to be the one to choose whom Patience would be courted by—or, for that matter, married to. Patience could feel a headache coming and wished somehow her daddy would appear.

“Right, Mother, let’s go in and get you settled. We can talk further in the morning.” Patience slipped her key out of her reticule and opened the door.

“Can I carry that upstairs for you?” Jedediah motioned toward the two bags next to the rocker.

“That won’t be necessary,” she snapped. “Patience is strong as an ox!”

Well, thank you, Mother, for pointing that out. But Jedediah already had the bags in hand, and he slipped inside and quickly moved up the stairs and deposited them on the landing.

“Humph,” the woman muttered, and followed Patience through the door.

“Then I’ll leave you two alone,” Jedediah told them, stepping back onto the porch and putting on his hat. “I’ve got to get this carriage back to the livery now. Patience, thank you,” he finished somewhat indirectly, touching his finger to his hat.

Patience ignored his attempt at discretion in front of her mother. “Thank you for bringing me home, Jed. We’ll talk again soon. I must go now and see to my mother’s needs.” She breathed deeply. Her mother’s presence seemed to have brought her scattered thoughts and feelings into some kind of order.

“My pleasure, I assure you.” He tipped his hat, and Patience watched him climb into the carriage.

Patience led her mother up the stairway, then picked up the larger one of the bags at the top. What in the world did she have stashed in there? She lugged it toward the only empty room and leaned for a moment against the smooth wood of the door to catch her breath. Her mother cleared her throat.

“I must get the room key,” Patience said. “Fortunately there is one room not yet rented.”

“Oh, don’t bother, dear. I can just share your room. I promise not to inconvenience you in the least.”

“Oh no,” she said over her shoulder, already heading downstairs for the key. “That won’t work—I must be up very early. I’ll give you the best room in the house,” she called up the stairs, “the one at the front overlooking the main street. It’s only two doors down from mine. I usually use that one for newlyweds or someone special.”

Charity was nodding, looking somewhat mollified. “Nice to know I’m special,” she called back. “Show me the way then, Patty. I’m thoroughly exhausted. If it weren’t so late, I’d have hot water for a bath brought up.”

Patience brought the second bag to the room when she returned with key in hand. “Mother,” she began, holding herself in check with some effort, “you need to know it’s only Emily and I that work here, and with all the other things we must do, we are not able to draw baths for our boarders.” Patience turned the key in the lock, pushed the door open, and deposited the luggage inside. “As I said, we have no assistants, but tomorrow I’ll make time to bring up hot water for your bath.”

Her mother leaned over to give Patience a peck on the cheek. “What a thoughtful daughter you’ve turned out to be. But who’s Emily?”

“You’ll probably get to meet her tomorrow at breakfast.”

“I’ll have mine on a tray in my room, dear, until I’m feeling more like myself,” Charity announced with a “poor me” face.

Patience pressed her lips together to keep from saying something she might regret, such as the fact that her mother was quite capable of coming downstairs for breakfast. She paused at the door. “Mother, how long do you plan to stay?”

Charity put a finger to her chin. “I haven’t decided, but I must see how you are doing, since I haven’t gotten more than a letter or two from you. If the answer is that things are going well, then I shall be satisfied. Daddy would want that.”

“Yes, Daddy would. Good night, Mother.”

“Ta-ta, Patty dear.”

Patience could hardly wait to strip off her party dress and drop into bed. What a shock to find Mother on my doorstep! she thought as she pulled her nightgown over her head. Most likely she had come to see what Creekside looked like now.

Patience slipped under the covers, remembering that her mother had been very displeased when she hadn’t been the one to inherit this boardinghouse. Patience sighed and closed her eyes. “Lord,” she whispered, “help me to be kind and loving to Mother, even when she doesn’t treat me the same way.”

She hoped her mother would be pleased with all the improvements she’d made to the boardinghouse and that her visit would be pleasant. For now, she curled up with her pillow—Buttercup snuggled against her—and went to sleep with the memory of her special evening with Jedediah.

Patience couldn’t have been more mistaken in hoping her mother would be gracious on this visit. On Monday morning, Charity glided into the dining room near the end of breakfast time, dressed in a skirt of light blue silk taffeta and bodice adorned with chenille fringe that matched her blue eyes, her best feature. Though middle-aged now, her mother had somehow maintained her slim silhouette, which made Patience feel poignantly aware of her own fuller figure. She could never expect to age as pleasingly as her mother.

“Good morning, Mother,” Patience said, laying a place for her at the table. “Everyone, this is my mother, Charity Cavanaugh.” Hellos and nodding of heads were the responses from the few still finishing their breakfast.

Her mother looked around, no doubt sizing up the guests. “Good morning to all,” Charity said with an elegant sweep of her hand and a smile that quickly faded when everyone continued to eat. She sat down at her place and looked around uncertainly.

Patience nodded toward the sideboard holding the breakfast items, and her mother nodded in return, picked up her plate, and rose to help herself to what was left of breakfast.

“Patience, dear, were there any potatoes left this morning? I should love some with my sausage.”

“I’m sorry, Mother, but I didn’t serve potatoes today. There’s still some oatmeal left next to the sausage.”

Her mother removed the lid and spooned oatmeal into a bowl. “Then I shall put in my request for potatoes on the morrow,” she said, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “We always had those at home, you know.”

Patience winced at her mother’s veiled rebuke as Emily came in from the kitchen to gather the dishes. She stopped short when she saw Charity. “You must be Patience’s mother,” she exclaimed. “I do see a resemblance between you. I’m Emily.” The young woman held out her hand.

“Yes, I’m Mrs. Cavanaugh,” she said, taking the outstretched hand. “I’m not that sure of the resemblance, though,” she added with a shrug. She placed her bowl of oatmeal on the table, sat down, then looked up at Emily. “You do the kitchen work for my daughter?”

“Heavens, no! I can’t cook at all. I’m Patience’s partner in business,” she said cheerfully. “Patience probably hasn’t had a chance to tell you yet.”

Patience didn’t miss her mother’s glance from Emily to her and then back to Emily. “No, I wasn’t told. It seems my daughter has more than a few surprises in store for me.” Her lips formed a smile but her eyes narrowed. “It’s probably a good thing I was able to come in person. A few letters obviously aren’t sufficient. ”

Patience’s mouth felt dry. “We work well together, Mother, and our abilities are very compatible.”

“I see,” she said, and proceeded to eat her oatmeal.

The last of the boarders excused themselves and departed for the day. Patience began clearing the sideboard food with a large tray.

“Well, my dear, it appears your enterprise is beginning to flourish in a fairly short time. I will be happy to share some ideas with you.”

Patience paused at the kitchen doorway with the tray balanced on her hip. “Yes, things are going well, and if you have some helpful ideas for further improvements, by all means, I’ll want to hear them, Mother.”

“Perhaps when you’ve finished with cleaning up, you can show me around the town. It’s been a while since I visited my mother here.”

Patience eyed her thoughtfully. “And you’re dressed to go out already.”

“I try to plan ahead, dear. I’ll be in the parlor when you’re ready,” she said. “Oh, and I’m sure you’re planning to change from that drab housedress before we leave.”

Emily gave Patience a sympathetic glance. “I’m the one who does the dishes, Mrs. Cavanaugh, while Patience makes us such excellent meals,” she said. “One can’t very well do that in beautiful clothing such as you are wearing.”

Charity arched an eyebrow, and Patience almost laughed outright—her mother had met her match. Little did Emily know that Charity Cavanaugh never cooked or cleaned or washed dishes if there was anyone else around to do it for her.

“That doesn’t surprise me at all. She learned to cook from me,” Charity said with a smug little smile.

Yes, you left the running of the house to me because of your “illnesses.” But all she said was, “I’ll meet you in the parlor a little later, Mother.”

Her mother dabbed her mouth with her napkin. “I think I’m finished here—Emily, is it? You can take my plate too. I have to watch my figure, even at my age.” She sent Patience a meaningful glance. “I believe I’ll have another cup of coffee and take it with me to the parlor. Excuse me.”

When the two were alone, Patience whispered to Emily, “I’m sorry about my mother. She likes to be in charge. But thanks for sticking up for me.”

“No need to apologize, Patience. I understand,” Emily told her with a smile. “I can finish up here. Why don’t you go ahead and get ready for the outing with your mother.” Emily took the plates from Patience. “I wish I’d had more time with my mother . . .”

Patience wiped her hands on her apron, then touched Emily’s sleeve. “I’m so sorry. Hopefully your mother was a kind, gracious woman.” Patience could tell Emily was suppressing the tears that filled her eyes.

Emily sniffled and turned toward the kitchen. “She wasn’t perfect, but she was certainly a good mother to me. Don’t forget to put on something nice—you know, for your mother’s sake.”

Patience shook her head. “She must assume I can run this place and cook meals dressed to the nines.” She untied her apron, slipped it over her head, and laid it on the table. “Thank you, Emily, not just for the work you do here, but for being a good friend.”

“That goes both ways. We all need someone we can talk to. Now shoo!”

“I’m going. I’m going,” Patience said over her shoulder with a smile and exited the dining room. What would it have been like to have a mother like Emily’s? she wondered as she headed toward the stairs. Maybe growing-up years would have been pleasant ones, and she wouldn’t have had to struggle to even be seen and heard.

“My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness.” Patience heard the familiar words in her mind. I know, Lord, but I don’t know what You’re trying to work into me.

The answering voice was clear in her heart. Maybe you don’t need to know, Patience. And may I remind you of your name, My beloved daughter?