CHAPTER ONE

 

 

 

A month later, Justine stood in the house that had been in the Tyler family for seventy-nine years. Four generations had lived there. Loved there.

Am I crazy for leaving?

She heard a different word enter her thoughts. Brave. You’re brave.

She didn’t feel brave.

Goosie came in the front door and handed her a letter. “Only one today. I told them to forward all mail to Dorthea’s address in Lawrence, Kansas.”

Harland nodded at the letter. “Who’s it from?”

Justine looked at the return address and felt a twinge of anxiety. “It’s from my lawyer in New York.”

“Uh-oh,” Goosie said.

“It doesn’t have to be bad news,” Harland said.

She hoped not. Justine and her lawyer had been exchanging letters and telegrams for the past two weeks. She’d given him instructions to sell the family mansion, give the servants generous severance and glowing references, and have her lady’s maid, Franny, donate most of her clothes to charity. Justine had assured them all she would be home shortly to oversee the process.

The only possession she’d specifically wanted to keep was a cigar humidor that had been her father’s, and her mother’s jewelry. Any proceeds from the sale of the house and furnishings were to be divided fifty-fifty: fifty percent would be sent to an account she had opened in a Kansas bank, with the other fifty-percent was to be divided between her parent’s favorite charities. She’d thought everything was taken care of.

She ripped open the letter, hoping it wouldn’t reveal some hitch in their plans. She read the short note and laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Harland asked.

She handed him the letter and he read it aloud, “’I thought you might be interested to know that Morris Abernathy and Faye Coskins are betrothed. They plan an autumn wedding.’”

“Morris? The man you were engaged to before me?” Harland said. “That makes you laugh?”

She remembered a particular evening at the opera—a lifetime ago. “Faye was the victim of a previous broken engagement and everyone from my set spurned her—including Morris. I saw her crying at the opera and purposely spoke with her, mentioning that she and her mother should come for a visit the next week. But . . .” The rest of the night’s events forced themselves front and center.

“But?” Harland asked.

“That was the night Mother died.” She spread her arms to encompass the room, the house, and the town of Piedmont. “Yet, here I am among loving family. Betrothed to the most wonderful man in the world.” She kissed his cheek to confirm it.

“But your laugh?” Goosie asked.

“I laugh when I remember what Morris said about Faye’s sad situation. He told me that Faye’s father was too rich for her to remain single.”

“Ah,” Goosie said with a nod.

There was nothing more to say about that.

Except good riddance.

 

**

 

Justine stood in front of Granny’s headstone. She wasn’t sure if God would allow her this one last bit of travel through time in Piedmont, but she hoped He would indulge her. Righting the wrongs of the past wasn’t her motive, love was. Wasn’t God all about love?

She was wasting time pondering what God would or wouldn’t do. She could know. Now.

She knelt before the headstone and traced her fingers over Granny’s name.

The winds of time took her away. Thank You!

She found herself in the cemetery, but Granny’s headstone wasn’t there.

“Jussie.”

Justine turned around and found Granny standing there, the elderly Granny she’d known and loved before losing her when she was ten.

She fell into her arms and Granny rocked her back and forth. The scent of honeysuckle wove its way around them.

“You’re here.”

Granny stood erect. “Of course I’m here. Where else would I be?” There was a knowing twinkle in her eyes.

Justine held her hands, not wanting to let go. “I’m moving away from Piedmont.”

Granny nodded. “Out west.”

“You know?”

She shrugged. “I know what the Almighty lets me know. He shared that bit of it. And that you accomplished what I could not.”

“Quinn is in jail. The town is thriving now that it is free of his oppressive ways.”

“Praise God. ’He preserveth the souls of his saints; he delivereth them out of the hand of the wicked.’”

Indeed. “I’m so glad to see you again. I prayed God would allow it.”

“He encourages love. ‘I love them that love me; and those that seek me early shall find me.’”

Justine smiled. “You didn’t used to speak in Bible verses.”

“Where I am now they are life verses, constant reminders of all He is and does. They are life-lines. Speaking of life-lines, I hope you keep adding the wisdom you collect to the Ledger.”

Justine had carefully packed this precious family book. “I will. I promise.”

“Good. Because the wisdom of hundreds of years needs to be kept alive—and increased.” Granny shook her head, smiling. “The wisdom up here astounds me.”

“I like hearing your view of heaven.”

“It’s not just my view. It is my reality. My eternity.” She stroked Justine’s cheek. “I’ve known Harland since he was a boy. I approve of him. I know you’ll be very happy together.”

To find out Granny knew about their betrothal gave Justine much joy.

“But . . .” Granny said.

“But what?”

“Your time out west will not be without incident.”

“Do you know something?”

“I know no details. Only that you are not through using your gift.”

“So there is more to do?”

Granny gave her the look she deserved. “There is always more to do. God’s gifts can’t be returned.”

“That’s on your headstone.”

“Hmm. Good place for it.”

“So I’m going to be traveling back in time while I’m in Kansas?”

“Let Him lead you. There’s work to be done. His work. Now that He knows He can trust you . . . ‘For unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall be much required: and to whom men have committed much, of him they will ask the more.’”

Justine felt the wave of the responsibility. “I hope I’m up to the task.”

“He doesn’t give us more than we can handle.”

Justine was suddenly aware of time passing. Though God had been gracious in allowing her this visit, she needed to say what needed to be said.

“I love you, Granny. I always have and always will. Our time together in the past has been special, very precious to me, but—“

“But you’re moving west, away from here.” She spread her arms to encompass the cemetery.

Tears welled up in Justine’s eyes. “To find you again, only to have to say goodbye . . .”

Granny took hold of Justine’s hands and held them close between them. She looked into her eyes. “What did I just tell you? God has shared with me bits and pieces about you, letting me know how you are, what you’re doing. I trust Him to continue the blessing as He sees fit.”

“I like the idea of that.”

“It’s more than an idea, it’s how He works. He ‘is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that worketh in us.’” She solidified the verse with a nod. “Who can argue with that?”

Justine chuckled. “Surely not me.”

She pulled Granny into her arms one last time and closed her eyes, soaking in the moment, embedding it in her memories forever.

And then . . . time took her away.

 

**

 

Justine, Harland, and Goosie stood in the cemetery—each in their separate areas.

They were leaving for Kansas today. It was time to pay their respects to those they were leaving behind. Justine looked to her left and saw Harland stooped beside his father’s grave. And to her right, Goosie lay flowers on the grave of her father.

Justine sank to her knees in front of the graves of her mother and grandmother with her other relatives buried close by.

There was a thud. She looked over her shoulder toward her house and saw Thomas putting the last of their luggage in the back of a wagon to take to the train. She waved a hand, indicating they’d be done in a minute.

On impulse, Justine turned to her mother’s grave. “Thomas loved you, Mamma. If only you ‘d loved him back. He’s gracious in every way. He’s even told me to call him Thomas, giving homage to Father for bringing me up as his own. That’s the kind of man he is. You missed out on so much . . .”

She looked across the cemetery that had been the starting point of her time travel. There was a feeling of comfort here. Of knowing. She was traveling to Kansas, a land as foreign as Piedmont had been to New York City. But she was stronger now. She felt confident she could adapt and thrive. Though she’d been alone in her first move, now she was surrounded by people who loved her.

She finished what she had to say. “I’m leaving Piedmont today but I’m not moving back to New York. I’ve instructed the lawyers to sell the house. I expect you’ll be disappointed with my decision, but it can’t be helped. My life has changed beyond anything either of us could have imagined. I am not meant to be a socialite. I am meant to use our gift to help people find justice. My work here is done. After a visit to New York to wrap things up, I’m moving to Kansas with Harland Jennings—the son of Jesse and Dorthea? Dorthea and his sisters live there. And . . . we’re getting married.”

She remembered all the grand plans her parents had envisioned for a fancy society wedding. Perhaps it was best they weren’t around to see the simple ceremony that would probably occur in the far off west.

She glanced over her shoulder. Thomas stood nearby. She motioned him close and put an arm around his waist. “Thomas is going out west with us, Mother. As is Goosie. I will be with family old, and family new.”

Harland and Goosie approached. Thomas opened his arms, letting them into their group. “May God bless us and keep us safe.”

“Amen to that.”

Justine turned toward the road. “Come now. A new adventure awaits.”

 

**

 

The adventure to Lawrence, Kansas involved one detour to New York City to tie up loose ends.

The carriage from the train station pulled in front of the Braden residence on West 34th and Fifth Avenue. Harland was used to the big city, having received his medical schooling in Boston. Thomas had lived here most of his adult life, watching Justine grow up from the shadows. But Goosie? She’d never lived anywhere but Piedmont, and her only traveling experience had been to nearby Haverhill. New York City was a strange, perplexing place.

“Here we are,” Justine said.

Goosie peered out the window. “Is this city hall?”

“It’s my family home.”

Goosie pressed a hand to her chest, staring at the marble-faced mansion. “I feel embarrassed that you stayed in the house in Piedmont. It’s a shack compared to this.”

“Nonsense, it was perfect,” Justine said, as Harland helped them out of the carriage. “Come everyone.”

The butler opened the door before they reached the top of the steps. He smiled. “Miss Braden. How nice to have you home again.”

“Thank you, Watson.”

The others trailed in, their gaze moving up the walnut staircase, traveling over the coffered ceiling, running down the portrait-covered wall, and landing on the mosaic floor.

“Gracious, Justine,” Thomas said. “I’ve been in the kitchen of this place to secretly check on you when you were growing up but had no idea it was this . . .”

“Grand,” Harland said. “Mightily grand.”

The housekeeper appeared from the back. “Miss Braden. Your lawyer told us you were coming.”

Her lawyer. “I hope he’s told you my plans for the house and . . .”

“And for the staff,” she said. “The severance pay is very generous.”

“We wish you much happiness,” Watson added.

“Thank you. I would like to introduce you to our guests.” She began with Goosie, drawing her forward. “This is Agatha Anders, the wonderful woman who has been overseeing the Tyler home in Piedmont for seventy-nine years.”

Mrs. Bain’s eyebrows rose. “Gracious. You have more stamina than me, Mrs. Anders.”

“Miss.” Goosie bobbed a curtsy.

“And this is Thomas Piedmont.” She desperately wanted to add, my father, but thought it best—in this house that was built by the man who raised her—to leave such delicate matters unspoken.

“And finally . . .” she drew Harland close. “This is my fiancé, Dr. Harland Jennings.”

Mrs. Bain beamed. “A doctor? Oh. Well then.”

There was a hint of disdain in her voice. Being a doctor meant Harland was held a slice below the captains of industry that populated New York society. His was a needed profession, but not necessarily lauded. “Thank you for your best wishes,” Justine said.

“Yes, miss. Of course. Best wishes.”

“And congratulations to you, Doctor,” Watson added.

“It’s nice to meet both of you,” Harland said. “We appreciate your hospitality.”

At the word, Mrs. Bain nodded once. “You are surely tired. Let me show you to your rooms.”

“Our luggage,” Thomas said, turning toward the door.

“It will be brought to you, sir,” Watson said.

Thomas helped Goosie negotiate the stairs.

“Mrs. Bain, would you please put Miss Anders in the room next to mine?” Justine asked.

“Of course, miss.” She nodded toward the guests and spoke to Justine. “After settling in would you like to come down for a light supper?”

Justine glanced at the others, who looked weary. She felt confident in speaking for them. “I think not. But we would appreciate a tray of bread, cheese, and fruit brought to each room. Along with some tea perhaps?”

Harland and Thomas nodded.

She thought about sending the men a valet to assist with a bath but thought that would be too awkward to those who were used to fending for themselves.

With a wave good night she let the men be led to their rooms. Harland blew her a kiss.

Justine walked past her own room to see that Goosie got settled into hers next door.

Goosie took two steps inside the door and stopped. “This is my room?”

“It is.”

She leaned close. “I don’t feel right being here. I’ll go sleep with the servants.”

Justine put a hand around her shoulders. “Your servant days are over. At age eighty-nine you are officially retired from service.”

“But what will I do?”

“You’ll be my friend. And I will be yours.”

Goosie touched Justine’s hand that lay upon her shoulder. She gazed across the room at the canopied bed, the rose-colored curtains with tassels, the velvet-upholstered settee, and two chairs set near the blazing fireplace. “I’m not sure what to do in such a room.”

“How about I stay for a bit, until you feel more at ease?”

“That would be nice, Jussie.”

Mrs. Bain appeared in the doorway, having seen the men to their rooms. “Do you need anything else, miss?”

“Would you send Franny in, please?”

“In here?”

“Yes. And I believe Miss Anders and I will enjoy our cheese plates together.”

“As you wish.” She closed the door behind her.

“She doesn’t know what to do with us—the rest of us,” Goosie said.

“I’ve learned that the issues of status and hierarchy are not exclusive to high society but extend to the servants.” Justine motioned toward the chairs. “Shall we?”

Goosie eased herself into the cushions. “You’d think because I’ve been sitting most of the day I would long to stand, but more and more this old body prefers sitting.”

Justine sat on the settee. “Don’t mind if I do.”

“Are you sure about selling this place? I don’t know anything about Kansas, but I do expect our home there will be nothing compared to this.”

“I don’t need this.”

“But you have this. It’s yours.”

Even Justine was surprised by her new attitude. “I never, ever thought I would say this, but I much prefer the simple, cozy house in Piedmont to this massive monument.”

Goosie looked over her shoulder at the bed. “We could fit all the quilting ladies in that bed.”

“And even their children.” There was a knock on the door. “Come in.”

Franny entered, her face beaming. “You’re home!”

“Hello, Franny. I am home—for a short time.” Justine introduced Goosie.

Franny bobbed a curtsy. “Nice to meet you, Miss Anders. Would you like help getting ready to retire?”

Goosie put a hand to her chest. “Me?” She chuckled.

“Not yet,” Justine said. “Actually, I wanted to ask you some questions. Would you join us?” She motioned to the other chair.

“Sit?”

“I know it’s not proper, but please.”

Franny perched herself on the edge of the settee. “What can I help you with, miss?”

“You’ve worked here since I was born, yes?”

“Before that. Since your mother and father married and moved in here. Actually, I worked in Mr. Braden’s household before that, as an undermaid. When we moved here, I became Mrs. Braden’s lady’s maid. And then I helped with you and became your lady’s.”

Goosie nodded her appreciation. “I was with the Tyler family for nearly eighty years.”

Franny’s eyes grew large. “You were in service, ma’am?”

“I was.”

“Eighty years . . .” she shook her head. “That’s a lifetime.”

Goosie chuckled. “Yes, it was.”

Justine returned to her question. “My parents weren’t betrothed long, were they?”

“Not at all. Mr. Braden was immediately smitten. They were betrothed and married very quickly. A month or so. Quick it was.”

Now, it would get dicey. “Because it had to be?”

Franny fingered the pocket of her apron.

Justine leaned toward her. “I’m the woman of the house now, Franny. There have been too many secrets. Let me know the truth. It’s all right.”

Franny pulled at the folds of her apron.

“Is my biological father named Thomas?”

Franny stood and took a step back. “You know about that?”

“I do.” Justine said, motioning toward the door. “He’s here. Now.”

Franny looked toward the hall. “He’s one of the guests?”

“He is. My fiancé is here too, Dr. Jennings.”

Franny began to pace at the foot of the bed. “Oh my. I’d heard that Mr. Abernathy got himself engaged to someone else, but I didn’t know that you . . . “ She stopped pacing. “Is the doctor from Piedmont?”

“He is. But now the four of us are moving to Kansas. Dr. Jennings has family there.”

The news was obviously too much for her and she sat again. “How did you find . . . how did you discover your father?”

Justine waved that story away. “God arranged it.” She got to the core of her questions. “Were my parents happy?”

Franny looked as though she wanted to pace again but remained seated. “Your father—Mr. Braden—tried to make everyone happy.”

That sounded like him. “But Mother didn’t.” This was not a question.

“When the missus got word that Mr. Thomas died . . .” Franny bit her lip. “You said he’s here?”

“He is. He didn’t die.”

Franny pressed a hand to her forehead, her head shaking. “She never said it aloud, but I knew she loved him.”

“Oh,” Goosie said.

“Is something wrong?”

“He never knew,” Justine said. “How incredibly sad.” She had a second thought. “Should we tell him?”

“I don’t know,” Goosie said. “Will knowing fill him with regrets for staying in the shadows?”

She was right. “I don’t want to hurt him.”

“Then we should remain quiet about it.”

“Agreed.” At least for now. Justine returned to her questions. “Continue, Franny. You were explaining how my parents felt about each other?”

“It comes down to this. Your mother almost left."

“Left my father, Noel?” This was unbelievable.

Franny nodded. “She was planning to leave when you were about three. Though Mr. Braden was a good man, they were not a good match. Your mother was headstrong and he was quiet and didn’t enjoy society much.”

“No, he didn’t.”

“When she heard that Mr. Thomas had died, her wanting to leave got worse. She was so distraught, and couldn’t tell your father why. He didn’t know what to do. In the hope that she would be happy, he took all three of you to Bedford Springs, a spa in Pennsylvania, to rest and recuperate. I went along, of course. A lovely place. Wonderful food.”

“Did it help her mood?”

Franny cocked her head, as though the question was difficult. “When the mister went back to the city early for some business something-or-other, your mother changed. She was happier at the spa, more jovial. I think she found a few friends who took her mind off her troubles. I spent most of my time with you. You loved feeding the ducks.”

Justine had a vague memory of ducks. A pond. “Did that happiness last when we went home?”

Franny stared into the fire. “At first. Your mother was still sad about Mr. Thomas, but there was something else driving her. She made me mend all her clothes and bought some new ones for you in a larger size—you were growing like a weed. She checked the mail every day, clearly waiting for a letter from someone. When nothing ever came she grew despondent again. Took to her room. For the longest time even you couldn’t make her smile.”

“I wonder who she was waiting to hear from.”

“I asked her, but she wouldn’t say. I assume she’d made a new friend at the spa and was looking forward to a correspondence.” Franny sighed. “The mister tried very hard to make her happy. He bought her whatever she wanted—and then some. But then the war started and he left to fight. I will never forget his face when he said goodbye to you two. He looked twenty years older.”

“The reality of war will do that,” Goosie said.

“I think your mother loved the mister some,” Franny said. “They could seem happy.”

Justine thought back to her childhood. “I hate to admit it, but I was oblivious to any issues they were having. I loved both of them and they loved me. I just assumed they loved each other.”

“Children are like that,” Goosie said.

“With Father gone . . .” Justine said. “It was her chance to leave.”

“Almost did.” Franny took a handkerchief from a pocket and blew her nose. “I remember one day when I helped her pack to leave for good.”

“Where was she going?”

“To Kansas, I believe. A place with a man’s name . . . ”

What? “Was it . . . Lawrence?”

“That’s it.”

Justine shivered. “Why Kansas?”

Franny ignored her question a moment. “You’re going to Kansas. Just like the missus.”

“It appears so.” Justine got back to her question. “Why was she going to Kansas?”

“That was my reaction. I asked her why there, and she had no real reason. Didn’t know anyone there but had some feeling that was the place she should go.”

Justine felt a shiver course up and down her arms. “Mother was going to Kansas and now I’m going there? And not just to the state, but to the same city?”

“That is an odd coincidence, isn’t it?” Franny said.

No coincidence at all.

Goosie lifted a finger to make a point. “Our moving there is meant to be, Jussie.”

“Apparently so.” She felt strengthened by the affirmation. “So Mother was packed?”

“Had the train tickets bought. You were going with her, of course. So was I. But then she got the telegram that the mister had been badly injured and was coming home.”

“She couldn’t leave.”

“I suppose she could have, but she didn’t.” Franny continued. “When he got home he needed extra care. Your mother stopped looking for the letters and did right by him.”

“She did a good thing,” Goosie said. “She put his needs above her own.”

“That, she did,” Franny said. “Mr. Braden needed her, and so did you, Miss Braden.”

My seemingly selfish mother sacrificed herself for her family. For me. “I hate to say this aloud,” Justine said, “but that doesn’t sound like her. Self-sacrifice wasn’t one of her strongest qualities.”

“Jussie!” Goosie said. “Don’t be so hard on her. She lost the man she loved, then stayed with a man she didn’t love. That’s the essence of self-sacrifice.”

She stayed with Father. She didn’t run off to Kansas.

“You certainly would have had a different life if you’d been brought up out west,” Goosie said. “Without a father.”

Justine’s thoughts turned to the could-have-beens. “I wouldn’t have known you.”

“Or Harland. Or found your real father. Or discovered your gift.”

“What gift, miss?” Franny asked.

Justine changed the subject. “Thank you for telling me the truth, Franny. I appreciate your candor.”

She leaned her head back and looked at the painting that hung above the mantel. It was a portrait of her mother in her twenties wearing a ruffled white dress with a five-stone ruby necklace. She pointed at it. “Isn’t there a miniature of this portrait?”

“There is.”

“I’d like to take that with me.”

“I’ll find it, miss.”

“And the necklace . . . it’s very lovely but I don’t remember Mother wearing it.”

“That’s because it was lost—during that trip to the spa.”

“Lost?”

“That‘s what she said. I wish I could give it to you, but I can’t.”

So be it.

When Justine stood, Franny did the same. “Will there be anything else, miss?”

“Nothing tonight.”

Franny left, leaving Goosie and Justine in front of the fire.

“Are you all right?” Goosie finally asked.

Justine shrugged. “I wish I would have known about this before Mother died. It would have helped me understand her.”

“She could have told you.”

“Perhaps. But I find it disconcerting to discover the man I knew as ‘father’ was not the man my mother loved.”

“And now you’re making a new life with that man.”

“In Lawrence, the place Mother was going to start her new life.” Justine looked at the portrait. She could see Granny in her mother’s eyes. “I went into the past one last time,” she said. “To say goodbye to Granny.”

“When did you do this?”

“This morning.”

“You have had a long day.”

Justine smiled. “She said I’m not through using my gift.”

“There’s more to do?”

“That’s exactly what I asked.”

“And she said?”

“There is always more to do. God’s gifts can’t be returned.”

“Just what it says on her headstone.”

Justine nodded.

“Are you going to be traveling back in time while we’re in Kansas? Righting some other wrong?”

“It seems so.”

Goosie shook her head. “More adventure to come.”

Justine stared into the fire, wishing it had the answers she craved. “It scares me a little.”

“You came through it back in Piedmont. God will watch over you again. He doesn’t give us more than we can handle.”

Justine chuckled. “Granny said that too.”

“She often said that.”

Justine stood and wandered the room, pausing at a pastoral scene that looked very much like the low mountains around Piedmont. “Do you realize when I left New York I knew nothing about my gift and now I’m going to live it out in a new land?”

“Perhaps your mother was supposed to use her gift in Kansas,” Goosie said.

Justine froze. “Do you think so?”

“You’re being sent there. . . maybe there’s work left undone.”

Justine let the weight of the responsibility fall upon her shoulders—and then slip away. God had helped her do the work once, He would help her do it again.

There was a knock, and a maid came in with their food and drink. It was time to refuel. To be renewed and refreshed.

Their new life was about to begin.