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“SORRY, MISS SOMMER, we sold the last bag of flour this morning.”
Lena surmised that the skeleton-thin woman behind the counter of Jamison's Dry Goods was more annoyed than sorrowful. The woman avoided looking at Lena, saying curtly, “You'll have to check back next week. We're expecting one more freight delivery middle of the week.”
“Well, that seems extraordinary,” Lena said. “Flour is a staple.”
“Exactly. Whole town is stocking up for winter, has been for weeks.” The woman's irritation brewed on her brow in a cluster of deep lines. “Is there anything else?” Lena felt she'd been dismissed.
“Well, no, I suppose I'll just look around for a while. Can you deliver the items I requested that you do have?”
“When we can get out your way, we will. Oh, and Mr. Jamison is only accepting cash now, no more credit.”
In contrast to the gloomy shopkeeper, the shop bell tinkled a merry greeting as the door opened to admit two formidable looking women not of Lena's acquaintance. From their similarly pinched and sour expressions she doubted she'd wish to encourage one. The shopkeeper acknowledged the two women with a stiff smile. “Mrs. Miller. Mrs. Sanderson. Be with you in a minute.”
Lena retreated from the shopkeeper’s scowling face. “Please tally my purchases. I'll be happy to make my payment in cash. I just want to look at your boots.” She nodded politely to the two women as they eyed her with open curiosity.
Again, the cheerful bell tinkled and a petite woman, dressed modestly in clothes appearing too large for her, entered somewhat hesitantly. The shopkeeper gave her no greeting, but did sniff loudly enough for the snort of disapproval to reach Lena. The other two customers took in her appearance, stiffened their backs and turned away from her.
Whispers changed to low conversation between the two women. “Just seems like anyone can shop here. Maybe we should be taking our business down the street to Mr. Baker's Mercantile where they might be a bit more particular about their clientele.”
Mrs. Miller asked, “Mary Beth, does Mr. Jamison know you allow her kind to shop here with respectable women?”
Mary Beth, the shopkeeper, looked befuddled, her eyes darting from the girl to the older women expecting her response. She drew herself up to her full height and seemed to understand the need to reassert some modicum of control over her establishment. “Well, now . . .”
Mrs. Miller glared at the poor woman, her tone imperious. “Well then, I should like to speak with Mr. Jamison myself. Will you tell him to pull himself out of his office immediately? I'm sure he'll make time for us.”
“Now no need for that, Mrs. Miller.” Scurrying around the counter, the shopkeeper approached the younger woman with a rapid click of heels across the wood floor. “Young woman, what is your business here?” The question was far from a polite inquiry.
The poor girl shrank before this storm of hostility. “I was just looking for some traveling clothes. I didn't think . . .”
“Obviously!” Mrs. Miller scoffed, still maintaining her distance from one she obviously deemed beneath her station.
“Excuse me!” Lena said, closing the space between herself and the young woman. “Is there a problem? Isn't everyone allowed to shop here?”
“Not her kind!” the shopkeeper snorted. “You're new here so you don't know the way of things I suppose, like ordering for the winter early and who to associate with.”
“You mean a woman in need of clothing? So am I. If she has the cash, I would suppose her purchase would be as welcome as mine would be. These are hardly prosperous times for any of us.”
Mrs. Miller gave an ugly laugh. “I know you, Miss Sommer. I wonder how it would affect your position in this town as a business woman if it were known you keep company with women of her sort.”
Lena lifted her chin a fraction of an inch and met the woman's venomous gaze. “I would not wish to associate with anyone who thought it was decent behavior to refuse another human being the kindness due them.” Lena noticed Mrs. Miller's expression transform from smug to apoplectic.
“She told you herself that all she wishes to do is purchase an item of clothing.” Lena pressed her lips into a tight line, considering her response. “In regards to my business. Anyone in need who came to my lodging house would be given shelter, no matter their social status. She's offering to pay for merchandise so she should be allowed to do just that.”
A man's voice boomed out across the room from the open door at the back of the shop. “Well, then you don't know how business is done here.” Mr. Jamison stood with hands crossed over his generous belly. “And this is my business so I can refuse service to anyone I please.”
Lena knew she must look as appalled as she felt inside. After a long awkward moment, she pulled her gaze from the man and looked at the cowering young woman beside her. With a slight tremor in her voice, she said quietly, “Perhaps you'd care to accompany me to the store down the street. Perhaps those running that establishment might be more enlightened as to the battle this country has just fought for equality to all.”
Jamison shouted after her, “Good luck getting Baker to help you.”
“Oh, and Mary Beth, please cancel my order. Good day.” Lena took the young woman's elbow steering to the door. The shop bell tinkled merrily as they stepped outside.
Lena wasn't certain who was shaking more, the girl or herself. A block away and she finally pulled up to let her lungs catch up to her racing heart. The crisp air brought some relief to her heated cheeks. “I am so sorry. You didn't deserve that!”
The young woman pulled away, her eyes lowered, hands twisting her cloth purse. “I should 'a known better. I'm sorry you got involved.”
“Nonsense! I chose to speak up. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't.” Lena could feel the eyes of other's watching them. Her anger kindled anew. “Come with me! We'll try Mr. Baker's store. I didn't see many items of clothing here, anyway.”
The girl pulled back, her face awash with anxiety. “Oh no! Please, I just want to go home now. I'll make do.”
Lena took the young woman's trembling hands in hers. “You need some traveling clothes, yes?”
“Yes, ma'am. I'm leaving Sawtooth for good, me and my little girl. As soon as the next wagon comes in, I plan to be on it!”
Lena heard the resolve in her voice. “You have a child. How wonderful!”
“You wouldn't approve ma'am, if you knew what I . . I did to get by.”
“Well, I'm not all that perceptive, I suppose, but from their rude remarks I think you might work above one of the saloons. Is that right?” Lena didn't wish to cause the poor woman anymore embarrassment. If she spoke truthfully, the woman might feel less cause for shame. Besides, the woman had said she was leaving town. Perhaps she was leaving the business as well. She reasoned that she deserved a new beginning as much as herself.
With a sudden flash of inspiration, Lena found the solution to their dilemma. “I have a wonderful idea! But first we should introduce ourselves, don't you think?”
The woman managed to pull up a faint smile and nodded. “I'm Lena Sommer and as you may have heard, I manage the lodging house at the edge of town, close to Beaver Creek. Do you know it?”
“Oh yes! My friend.” She stopped short, biting her lip. “I know the place. My name is Vicki.”
“Well then, Vicki, now that we are properly introduced, I'd like to invite you to my fine dining establishment and offer you a cup of tea and maybe even a scone if the men left any this morning. Won't you come with me, please?” Lena watched as indecision worked its way across the woman's face from her pinched brow to her uncertain smile.
“I don't know. You heard them. It could hurt your reputation if I were seen in your company. I should just go.” She tried to turn but Lena still held her hands firmly.
“What those women think matters not the least to me, Vicki. If someone is going to judge me by the people I choose to spend time with then they are people I'd rather not know as friends. So, I insist!” She grabbed Vicki by the arm and towed her away from town and back to the house.
As she did, a question rose to the forefront of her thinking. Would her previous employer have agreed with the women in the shop? Her reputation would surely have been ruined as a proper choice for a governess had she kept companionship with 'ladies of the evening'. Surely, that was just one of the changes transforming her perspective over these past weeks.
The thought came to her that that moral superiority displayed by the privileged women of Sawtooth City did not factor in the possibility that except by the grace of God, they too might find themselves in the ranks of those shunned. Lena felt a cold shiver run up her spine as she contemplated the fine knife edge of survival she walked by choosing to stay here.
They entered the house through the front door, so they caught Jessie unaware and in quite a flustered state. She'd been fuming at Carrick all morning for disturbing the hens so much with their hammering and sawing that the ladies weren't laying. Jessie calmed down enough to exchange polite introductions with Vicki.
“Vicki is going home! She's in need of some traveling clothes and I thought that between the two of us we might have just what she needs.” Lena watched Jessie's face to test the value of her suggestion.
Jessie enthusiastically endorsed her idea by hugging the young woman. “This should be fun!”
“I have a lovely shawl that would match the color of your eyes.” Jessie rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a knit scarf the pale blue of an icy winter sky. She skipped across the floor, wrapping it around Vicki's neck. “See? It's perfect for you!” She took a step back and clapped her hands with glee. “How beautiful it is with your eye color! See Lena?”
“But I think you need some sturdy traveling attire as well.” Lena pulled an elegantly tailored brown morning coat and matching skirt from the closet. Holding it near the window, she appraised it; looked at Vicki and then held it up to her. “It will need to be shortened of course. But I think it suits you. What do you think, Jessie?”
“It's lovely! And you'll turn not just a few heads when you step off the train.” Jessie grinned.
Lena saw a shadow flicker across Vicki's face. In it, she saw a glimpse of the darkness in this woman's short life and how it threatened to overshadow her future. Lena's heart ached for her. She could read in the woman's eyes her self-doubts. She laid out a high collared lace blouse and kid gloves to complement the suit. Who said silk and fine tailoring couldn't be armor? “These will do nicely, I think.”
The next moment Vicki's head was buried in her hands, great sobs shaking her small body. She sagged onto the edge of the bed. Through gasps for breath, she managed to speak a few words at a time. “I . . .can’t take such nice things. I don't deserve . . .”
Closest to her, Jessie wrapped her arms around the woman. “Now, you stop that talk. No one deserves nothin' when you think about it. I surely don't deserve my Bart. And I'm guessing you don't deserve a lot of the bad things that have happened to you, neither.”
Lena stood apart, watching how easily Jessie knew what to say, how to give comfort. Without hesitation or fear of being too bold, she spoke her mind. Lena knew how to comfort a crying child. She'd done that enough, but even with Miranda, whom she adored, she knew she'd always held back a full demonstration of her affections. The child was not hers after all. It wouldn't have been proper. But, oh, how she wished she'd told the child how much she meant to her!
Lena did the only thing she knew to do. “Why don't we all go down to the kitchen and have a cup of tea. Are there any biscuits, Jessie?” Lena began to fold the clothes into neat piles. “You two go on ahead. I'll catch up as soon as I've found something suitable for Vicki to carry these in.”
Jessie took a firm hold of Vicki's hand, chatting with her as though they'd known each other for years, leaving Lena alone. Standing before the mirror holding a rose-colored jacket, Lena remembered when she'd worn it last. She and Miranda had visited a tea shop overlooking Lake Michigan two summers past. It had been a magical day, filled with laughter and surprises, a street musician had serenaded them, a sweet lady selling flowers had given Miranda a bundle of violets.
Lena lowered the jacket, reaching up to touch the silver brooch with its ruby eye. It winked at her from the tarnished mirror against the wall, the patina marring the reflection. Her hand drifted to her face, touching the fine lines at the edge of her mouth. They weren't wasted years. She'd served a purpose in someone's life. Surely, she'd made a difference in the child's brief life.
“Lena, the water is hot. Are you coming?” Jessie called from the bottom of the stairs.
“Yes, just a minute.” Lena turned from the mirror and its distorted image, adding its restoration to a long list of chores. She knelt by the bed, pulling out a small satchel just right for carrying extra clothing for the trip ahead.
“Did you know that Vicki has a baby girl? Oh, I can't wait to meet her!” Jessie poured tea into Lena's cup.
Vicki appeared more relaxed after a cheerful dose of Jessie. Lena sensed that it would be best to keep their conversations to the present. “So, when do you leave? I thought I heard that the freight wagon is expected next week.”
Vicki nodded, placing her teacup back on its saucer as though it might shatter in her hands. “Yes, ma'am. I'm going home.” A smile tipped her lips. “Ever since my husband died, it's all I've ever wanted.” She cast her glance back to the contents of her cup. Perhaps she thought she'd said too much. She rose to her feet, with a suddenness that rattled the teacup she'd so carefully set down. “I'd best be getting back. My little girl will be wondering what's become of me.”
Lena picked up the satchel, handing it to Vicki. “I've added a few other items that might come in handy. But there was one more thing I'd like to do for you, if you'd allow it.” She hesitated seeing that every word seemed to cause the woman more discomfort. “Please?”
“You've been so kind. I can't.” She took the satchel, voice thick.
“I'd like to buy a few clothes for the child, if I might. You said she was three months old?”
“Yes, next week. But you've already helped me. Why would you?”
She smiled at Vicki and said, “I just want to. Please accept that I want to do this?” How could she tell the woman that she needed to do this? She needed to be extravagant with her affections for a stranger as she'd not been with her familiars.
Vicki gave another shaky smile. “That would be nice. My little girl could use a few things.” Her cheeks flushed again. Lena read it as an indication of shame. Lena's throat constricted as she felt her own sense of shame welling up. Her shame came not for what she'd done but for what she hadn't done.
“She hasn't got much more than a night dress and a thin little day dress. So, yes, ma'am. That would be a kindness. Thank you.” She turned to the door then, as though to stay longer would be too painful. “I can't go with you to the store, can I?”
Lena knew she was not asking her permission but stating a fact, one reinforced by today's experience. Lena kept her pity well veiled. “Don't bother yourself about those old hens one bit. Trust me to select some items and I can bring them to you.”
Vicki chewed her lip, evidently still fighting an internal war. “There is a back door to our house. You can get to it down the alley off Mill Street. I usually cook supper around four in the afternoons. You can find me there most days. If not, one of the other girls . . .”
Before she could open the door, it swung inward, followed by a cold gust of wind and the towering figure of Evan Hartmann.
Evan looked as startled as they. “Vicki!”
“Hello, Evan. I . . .Miss Sommer and Miss Leach have done me a great kindness. They gave me some traveling clothes for the trip home.” Her expression softened as had her voice.
“Well, that's fine, Miss Vicki.”
Vicki looked back at Lena and Jessie, her face less tense. “Thank you, again.” And she was gone.
“So how do you think they know each other?” Jessie lay with the covers pulled snugly to her chin.
“I'm sure I don't know,” Lena answered in a small voice as she climbed into the massive bed next to Jessie.
“This isn't a big town. I suppose there might be any number of ways they'd be acquainted.” Jessie persisted.
“Yes, any number of ways.” Lena rubbed her feet together to warm them, wishing Jessie wouldn't pursue her thoughts. She had certainly resisted the urge to follow the same path of thinking for hours.
“Maybe they met at the cafe or at some town dance or . . .” Jessie's voice trailed off as she obviously realized how limited the respectable possibilities were. “I mean I'm sure there's other ways he could have known her.”
Lena thought her choice of wording telling. He had indeed known her in some way. She rolled over on her side facing away from Jessie. “Goodnight, Jessie.”
“There used to be a church, you know. Maybe . . .” Jessie sighed heavily. “Suppose not. But that's not so bad is it? I mean if he did . . .you know, know her?”
“Jessie, I really don't want to think about it.”
“All right. But I still think he's a nice man. And if we can be kind to Vicki, we should be kind to Evan too, don't you think? Even if . . .you know.”
“Good night, Jessie.”
Jessie sighed again, fussing with her pillow.
Lena squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to sleep. She knew Jessie was correct. Justice should be blind. If Evan had known Vicki in the biblical sense, she shouldn't judge him any more than she judged Vicki. And it shouldn't matter. She had no claim on the man. But it did matter to her. It mattered a great deal, coloring her impression of the gentle, well-read man she'd come to know these past few weeks.
Still, she was not ignorant of the weakness of men where women were concerned. And perhaps Jessie was right after all. Maybe there was another explanation for their familiarity. A man should be presumed innocent, shouldn't he? She squeezed her eyes tight, white spots swimming beneath her eyelids. Go to sleep, Lena. Go to sleep.
