CHAPTER NINE

 

 

 

“How about packing this?” Justine held up Dorthea’s best skirt.

Dorthea carefully folded a bodice. “I think I have enough with two. It’s only a few days. My friend Mary has an easy-going nature. There will be no need to dress up in Topeka.”

Dorthea finished by packing undergarments and toiletries. There really wasn’t much for Justine to do but keep her company, so she sat on a chair by the window.

She noticed Dorthea’s forehead was furrowed. ”Are you nervous about the trip?”

Dorthea placed her silver brush and mirror on top of her clothes and latched her valise. She sat on the bed. “Extremely. Not about the time Alva and I will have together or the journey itself, but about the repercussions that may follow from Uriah. We thought he was dangerous before, but now we know he’s capable of anything. And the way he intimidated you . . .” She shuddered.

Justine wanted to reassure her but felt the same trepidation.

“Do you want me to get any specific information from Alva?” Dorthea asked.

“Don’t press but find out what her life with Uriah is really like. Find out anything about his past. Find out if she really thinks he’s poisoning her.”

Dorthea nodded. “That’s a lot.”

“It is.” Justine sat beside her on the bed. “Please remember that you can’t tell her what we know about Uriah, can’t mention Quantrill’s or Virginia, or that we know two of his other identities.”

“I wish we could tell her what sort of man he is.”

“I expect she already knows.”

Dorthea picked at a spot of dried food on her skirt. “Did others back in Piedmont know about your gift?”

Justine thought of the day when her secret came out—and the repercussions. “Eventually they all did. It wasn’t planned. I simply got caught appearing when I wasn’t there before.”

“That would require some explanation.”

“Not surprisingly, it changed people’s view of me. They were curious and wary. And then came the request for favors. Many of them wanted me to go back into the lives of their families. I became a novelty act. A circus performer asked to do tricks.”

“No wonder you left.”

Justine squeezed her hand. “I’m very glad we did. It feels good to start fresh.”

“Like Spencer did when he became Uriah?”

Justine didn’t want to give the man any respectable motivations.

“I have a question for you about time travel,” Dorthea said.

“Ask anything.”

“Does the amount of time you live out while you’re in the past coincide with the amount of time passing here? Or when you come back have you been gone just a few minutes?”

“The latter.” Justine thought of an example. “When I went back to 1857—before I was born, before my mother ran off to New York—I stayed overnight but when I came back to the present, only a few minutes had passed. I stayed overnight another time in 1800 when Goosie’s father was murdered.”

“Gracious.”

“I know. I’ve seen a lot of horrible things.”

“God must trust you a lot.”

“I hope not too much.” She looked out the window across from them, but saw nothing but her own worry. “My biggest fear is letting Him down.”

Dorthea touched her shoulder. “You won’t.”

“I appreciate your confidence.”

“To my first question I add another: how long can you stay in the past?”

“I don’t know. I have no control over when I’m brought back.”

“That must be frustrating.”

“A little perhaps, and yet I’m glad I don’t have the responsibility of choosing when. God has a purpose for me in the past, something for me to see and discover. Once that purpose is served, He brings me home again.”

“Your faith is strong.”

Justine sighed. “It’s stronger now than it was, but I need it to grow even stronger.”

Dorthea nodded. “Faith is like love; it has no limit.”

If that isn’t a life-line . . . “I like that.”

Dorthea put her arm around Justine’s shoulders. “You are so special to me. I loved you before I met you, but now . . .”

Justine leaned her head toward Dorthea’s until they touched. “Me too.”

They sat a minute, sharing the moment. Then Dorthea asked, “How old was your mother when you met her in the past?”

“Twenty, the same age as I was at the time.”

“How strange that must have been.”

“Strange, but also fascinating. She took me under her wing as a peer. I even shared her bedroom overnight. She confided in me and we chatted like two friends.”

“That must have been enjoyable.”

“Very much so. If only everyone could meet their parents as peers, not parents. The generations would understand each other better.”

Dorthea picked up a hair ribbon that had fallen to the floor. “I wish I’d understood my parents. We came to America from Ireland when I was nine, during the potato famine that left us starving. I was so concerned with me. As an adult I’ve often wondered what their lives were like before they married and had children. Before we were starving.”

“I didn’t know you were from Ireland. That’s where I’m from too.”

“Really? What part?”

“County Mayo. Around Cong.”

Dorthea’s eyes grew wide. “That’s where we lived! What your mother’s maiden name?”

“Tyler. But her parents were Hollorans.” She pointed to the cameo she wore at her neck. “This is my great-grandmother, Abigail Holloran.”

Dorthea studied it a moment. “I’ve noticed that pin before. It looks like you.”

“That’s what Goosie said when she gave it to me.”

Dorthea beamed. “My oh my.—We may have some connections in the past. Our family name was Fitzmorris. We knew some Hollorans in Ireland.”

Justine loved the idea that their families might be linked. “Perhaps they were my relatives, left behind. My immediate family came to Piedmont in the 1790s.”

“Long before ours.” Dorthea looked a bit disappointed, yet made the best of it. “Still, to have our families linked by an area in Ireland? What a coincidence.”

Justine chuckled. “There’s no such thing. Knowing how God works I’ve seen great life-puzzles put together out of nothing. I know He brought me to Piedmont after my mother’s death to meet Harland and to find my father, and now He’s brought us here, to you. There are no coincidences involved. Just God’s amazing plan.”

Dorthea smiled a smile of satisfaction. “Believing His plans . . .who knows what the Almighty has in store for us?”

Justine spread her hands. “I can’t wait to find out.”

Dorthea retrieved some earrings from a footed box on the dresser. “Speaking of family history . . . these were passed down through many generations. I wore these earrings on our wedding day.”

Justine admired the green circular stones in a silver setting. “What kind of stone is this?”

“Connemara marble. They mine the stone near the west coast. Not too very far from Cong.” She sighed deeply. “I still miss my Jesse.”

“The war created many widows.”

“He was such a good husband and father—though he was a little impatient with Harland.”

Justine thought of something that might interest her. “I’ll be right back.” She returned, carrying the Ledger. “Would you like to see the life-line I got from Jesse?”

“Life line?”

Justine showed her the Ledger and explained its history. She turned to a recent page and pointed at a specific entry.

Dorthea read: “September 1, 1860: Jesse Jennings, “’Take time.’”

“Short but wise,” Justine said.

“I wonder why he said it.”

“I know exactly why. He wanted Harland to farm and didn’t approve of him spending so much time helping Dr. Bevin. He was impatient with him.”

“That’s very true.”

“After he cut himself and the Harland came to his aid, your husband realized the best thing he could do for his son was to take some time with him, show him how to be a farmer, but also let him develop his own gifts.”

“All that, summed up in two words.”

“Wise words.”

Dorthea smiled, clearly immersed in happy memories. “Jesse did try to take time, though he never fully accepted Harland’s medical interests. He died when Harland was eight, so he didn’t see how the children blossomed. But I did. Harland wanted to move out here with me and the girls, but I wouldn’t let him.”

Justine knew this part of the story. “You let him go to school to be a doctor. He appreciates that—we all do.”

“As a parent, one of the hardest things to do is letting our children become people in their own right.” She got a mischievous glint in her eye. “You’ll understand once you have your own.”

“Someday.”

“When’s the wedding?”

Justine laughed. “I have no idea.”

“Don’t wait too long. Life is short. If you’re going to marry, marry.”

It wasn’t that simple. “I’d marry Harland today if not for my travels. Right now I’m immersed in two worlds. I don’t feel as though I can marry Harland until the Uriah situation is settled.”

“But then there will be another journey for justice. There may never be a good time to marry. You might simply have to make time.” She smiled. “As Jesse said . . . take time.”

Justine let this truth sink in. She needed time to think it through. With a grin she turned the tables. “What about the sparks flying between you and my father?”

Dorthea blushed prettily. “It’s true. We are courting.”

How wonderful she admitted it. “I know it’s new, but is marriage a possibility?”

“I wouldn’t discount it.” She cocked her head. “What would you think about that?”

Justine was surprised when tears threatened. She stood and held out her arms, letting Dorthea fill them. It was nice to think some happy thoughts about the future.

Not the past.

 

**

 

Dorthea had offered to pick Alva up on the way to the train depot but they’d received a note from Uriah saying he would meet them there. Justine wondered if his choice had little to do with convenience or logic, and much to do with his need for control. No matter the reason, Thomas, Dorthea, and Justine drove to the Kansas Pacific depot to meet their friend.

“Do you think Uriah will be there first, or make us wait?” Justine asked.

“Does it matter?” Thomas asked.

She shrugged. “The first would show his exacting nature—being early—and the second, his haughty pride, making an entrance.”

Thomas looked surprised at her assessment. “I know you’ve learned deplorable things about the man’s past, but—”

“And present,” Justine said. “Which is the reason we’re taking Alva out of his reach.”

He gave a reluctant nod. “I hate to think that anyone can be as evil as you think him to be. People do get ill. And maybe he’s left the sins of his past behind and has started fresh.”

Justine knew he was wrong on both accounts but admired his quest to see good in people. “You are very generous,” she told him.

“God is merciful and forgives. He tells us that we who are without sin should not throw stones at other sinners.”

His goodness partially quenched her fire against Uriah yet ignited a question. “If Uriah has repented and is living a good life now, then why is God allowing me to go into the past—more than once—to show me his awful deeds? My gift is to be used to facilitate justice. If Uriah has turned his life around then why is God uncovering his past sins?”

Dorthea nodded emphatically. “You’re going back because he’s still doing evil and needs to be stopped. Don’t you agree, Thomas?”

“It appears I am surrounded.” He sighed deeply. “I’ll leave it to God to show us what’s what.”

They reached the depot and he helped them out of the surrey, setting Dorthea’s valise beside a bench. They scanned the area.

“They’re not here,” Dorthea said.

Justine checked the depot clock. They only had fifteen minutes until it was time to board.

With five minutes to go, Uriah and Alva arrived. Justine was surprised to find he drove his own buggy, then chastised herself for the thought. Apparently, she did have a chip on her shoulder regarding all things Uriah, which led her to a silent prayer. Help me see the truth, and only the truth, Father.

Uriah carried her bag toward the group. Alva immediately embraced Dorthea. “I’m so excited for our trip,” she said quietly.

“As am I.”

“Wife,” Uriah said, with a tone that implied she’d done something wrong.

She immediately stood upright and returned to his side. Apparently, he would control when she could be excited.

Uriah glanced at the depot clock then took out his pocket watch. “Their clock is a minute fast.”

Yours couldn’t be slow?

He tucked his watch away. “I must leave. I have business with the mayor.”

You can’t wait a few minutes to see your wife off?

Alva turned to hug him, but it was awkward, as he was already half-turned to leave.

And then he was gone.

The rest of them shared an uncomfortable moment.

Alva let out a breath she’d obviously been saving. “Now I can be excited.” She grinned. “Because I am. Very.”

They laughed with her. “I promise we’ll have a wonderful time with Mary and Ben,” Dorthea said.

Alva glanced toward the place where their buggy had stood, as though making sure Uriah was truly gone. It was a pitiful gesture and reinforced Justine’s opinions.

The train-whistle blew. A conductor stepped forward. “All aboard!”

Justine wished the ladies a lovely trip. Thomas handed the porter their bags, then pulled Dorthea into a warm embrace.

“I wish Uriah would hug me that way,” Alva said, wistfully.

Justine had no words of encouragement, only some advice. “Forget Uriah. Forget Lawrence and home and duties and everything here. For the next few days focus on you. Enjoy yourself.”

Alva nodded. “I will try.”

The ladies boarded the train. Thomas and Justine waited until they found their seats and waved from the window as the train pulled away.

Thomas peered after them, his brow furrowed. “They’ll be fine,” Justine said. “It’s good for friends to have special times together.”

He shook his head once. “I know. I approve of the trip. But seeing Dorthea go . . .” He shook his head again, with more force. “I’m going to miss her.”

“It’s just a few days.”

“I know. It’s silly.”

Justine slipped her hand around his arm. “I do believe my father is in love.”

“I am.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder. “She loves you too, you know.”

He stopped walking to look at her. “She does?”

Justine laughed. “You act like a smitten schoolboy.”

They walked again. “I haven’t loved anyone since your mother. And that love was unrequited.”

Justine felt bad about that. “I’m not sure Mother was capable of fully loving anyone.”

“She loved you.”

“Perhaps.” She noticed he didn’t argue with her.

He helped her into the surrey, then got in himself. “Where would you like to go?”

She sat a moment, then remembered Uriah’s words. “Uriah said he was going to speak with the mayor. He’ll be gone from the house. Now is the perfect time to speak with Caesar.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“He’s the only one other than Virginia who knew Uriah when he was Spencer.”

Thomas chucked at the horse. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

“There’s nothing to worry about as long as Uriah isn’t there.”

“Would you like me to go with you?”

She would, but it wasn’t feasible. “I think our two against Caesar’s one might overwhelm. But you could drop me off. I’ll walk home.”

“I can do more than drop you off. I can pray.”

“I will never reject that offer. Ever.”

 

**

 

Justine knocked on the door of the Benedict home. Father, give me the right words to unlock the truth.

Caesar opened the door. “Good afternoon, Miss Braden. Mrs. Benedict isn’t here.” He blinked. “You know she went to Topeka with Mrs. Jennings.”

“I do know,” she said. “I saw them off at the depot.”

He cocked his head. “Then how can I help you?”

“I would like to speak with you, if I might. About Alva, and . . . other issues.”

His eyebrows rose. “Me?”

Justine nodded toward the interior of the house. “May I come in?”

He hesitated. “This is highly unusual.”

“I know it is. And I apologize, but I assure you it’s very important.”

He finally nodded. “I think it would be better if I came outside. We could talk out back, by the stable.” He glanced behind him. “Let me tell Mrs. Russo where I’ll be. Walk on ‘round.”

Justine walked around the side of the house and saw a small stable. It was empty. She was glad he’d insisted on privacy. One never knew what servants would hear—or share.

Caesar came out the backdoor of the house, and Justine saw the cook peering out the kitchen window. Their conversation would ignite curiosity. Justine vowed to be quick about it.

Caesar motioned to a place under a small overhang, in the shade. “What did you want to talk to me about, Miss Braden?”

She decided to state it plain. “Spencer Meade.”

He took a half-step back. “I . . . I don’t know the man.”

“Of course you do. You’ve known him from way back, before you two lived at the Dawson place. Before the war? When his name was Wat?”

He lowered his voice even though they were alone. “How do you know all that?”

“I can’t say. But I do know Uriah is Spencer. I need to find out what kind of man he was in order to understand the man he is. Where and when did you meet him?”

Caesar moved his weight from one foot to the other as if balancing the truth on a pivot.

“Please, tell me, Caesar. It’s crucial I know.”

He took a deep breath. “I met him in ‘sixty, at the Bedford Springs resort in Pennsylvania.”

Which confirmed what Cole had told her. And the name of the resort . . . where had she heard that name before? “What were you doing there?”

“Whatever they wanted me to do. I carried baggage, got the guests towels or food, and moved their chairs so they weren’t sitting in the sun.”

“What was Spencer doing there?”

Caesar bit his lip. “He wasn’t Spencer then. He was Wat. Lionel Watkins.”

Justine nodded once. ”He’s had three names.”

“Four. Lionel wasn’t his first. He was born Ralph Smith.”

Justine pressed a hand to her head. “Why does he keep changing it?”

Caesar looked at the sky for a moment as if finding the answer there. “He’s a complicated man. After he lives a life for a while, he gets an itching to change things. He’s real good at becoming somebody else.”

“Only someone who’s done bad things changes their name so often.”

Caesar hesitated, then nodded.

“So he has done bad things?”

“If you only knew . . .”

“Knew what? Tell me what he’s done.”

“There’s more to tell than time in a day.” Caesar glanced to the right and left furtively. “There’s a lot to know about Mr. Benedict from before.”

“I need to know everything. I want to help.”

He ran a hand over his short-cropped hair. “Is Miss Alva safe?”

“For the time being.”

“Good. Mrs. Jennings taking her away eases my mind.”

“Because?” Justine needed him to say it.

“I’ve seen far too many things I shouldn’t have seen. When the mister is through with someone they . . . they just disappear.”

“Like Virginia?”

He blinked twice at her knowledge. “Yes’m. I felt so bad when he took her away.”

“Virginia is doing well. I met her at Ravenwood.”

He stared at her. “She’s alive?”

“She is.”

“And she’s still there?”

“She is.”

“The mister told me she died.” He sighed, as if this wasn’t the first time he’d been lied to. “I’m glad she’s all right. She was a sweet woman.”

Justine had to get him back to the present. “Is Mr. Benedict through with Alva?”

“Seems so.”

“Why?”

“His reasons don’t jibe with common sense. I think it’s because he doesn’t want children. And I don’t think he should have children. He—”

“He had two children with Virginia.”

“You know about that too?”

“I do.”

Caesar shook his head. “The more Miss Alva presses him for a child the more he pulls away. Plus, I think there’s some issues in town . . .”

“Such as?”

“Hard saying. I catch a word here and there when one of his business cronies come to call. Something about land and payments?”

“He owes money?”

“I think it’s more like he took money.” Caesar drew in a new breath. “Him being Uriah is coming up on the longest spell he’s had with a name since I’ve known him.”

“Then why not just leave Alva? Why poison her?”

He didn’t deny her accusation. Nor did he hesitate. “He wants power.”

“What does he gain by her death?”

“That, I don’t know. But a lust for power is what drives him.”

Justine’s mind swam with questions. “When did he change from Lionel Watkins to Spencer Meade?”

Caesar looked down. “There was a bank robbery and he was wanted and—”

“He robbed a bank?”

“The Younger boys and Frank James did the dirty work. But Wat was there. I was there too. In the woods nearby. They killed a man that day.”

“When was this?”

“After the war, in sixty-six. Up in Liberty, Missouri.”

Justine took a few steps away, trying to sort it all through.

Then Caesar asked, “You related to Mavis Braden?”

He brings up my mother’s name, out of the blue? “I’m her daughter.”

He nodded. “I met you at the spa when you was little. Your parents were there, but your father went back to New York early, and then Lionel . . . He was a lady-charmer.”

“He charmed my mother?”

He fiddled with a button on his vest. “Seeing him now, it may seem hard to believe, but back then he was quite the dashing dandy. Seducing pretty ladies, getting them to buy him things, or conning them out of money, and making promises . . .”

Her throat was dry. “He conned my mother?”

Caesar looked hesitant. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Nothing untoward happened between them—but he acted like it would happen.”

“Such as?”

He looked toward the house. “I need to get back.”

She touched his sleeve. “Please, Caesar. This is personal now. My mother . . .?”

“I’ll say it quick-like. Lionel made her think they were going west together. Got her to say she was leaving her husband.”

“I didn’t know my parents had marriage problems.”

“They did then. Even before your pa left the resort, Lionel and your ma were in cahoots. She really took to him.”

It was an incredible story. “What was she going to do with me?”

“She was taking you with her. After some time with Lionel at the spa she went back to New York to settle things there, then was going to bring you back and take a steamer to Kansas City with him.”

“But he hates children.”

Caesar shook his head. “He never planned on taking either one of you. He got your ma to give him a necklace for fare money and kept it.”

The words of Mother’s lady’s maid came back to her. Something about a ruby necklace being lost during a trip to a spa—the Bedford Springs spa. Franny was the one who’d mentioned the name of the resort.

“Was it a ruby necklace?”

“Yes’m. It was.”

So the necklace Alva was wearing that first day wasn’t like her mother’s necklace, it was her mother’s necklace.

Caesar continued the story. “Soon as you and your mother went home, Wat went west. And took me with him.”

“Why?”

Caesar looked at the ground. “He caught me stealing at the hotel. Said he always wanted a servant, and having one fit in with the la-di-da role he was playing. Getting respect is everything to him. I was part of his image. He gave me the choice of going with him or he’d get me fired. He threatened to send me down South where they’d take me for an escaped slave.” He shook his head adamantly. “I was never a slave. Ever. I was born free in Philly.”

One large question loomed. “Since you know what kind of man he was—and has continued to be—why have you stayed with him?”

He waved a fly away from his face. “Don’t think I haven’t asked myself that question a thousand times. I guess part of it is that I wasn’t a good man. I did my share of stealing and lying. I had no ties, nowhere. Family was long dead before I got the job at the resort. Wat gave me somewhere to be. Someone to be.” He sighed. “Truth is, a body gets going on a road and just keeps going. When he married Miss Virginia and had them two children, I thought things would be better. And they were for a time.”

The children. “I’m so sorry about the children.”

“Me too.” He looked heavenwards. “I had a wife once, almost had a child.”

“What happened?”

He looked at his feet, moving a pebble with a shoe. “Before Spencer put Miss Virginia away . . .” He hesitated. “I was married two years to Alvira, a real nice lady I met in Eudora. Miss Virginia let us stay in a room off the kitchen. Alvira helped her with the young’uns and cooking. Almost had young-uns of our own, but . . .” His dark eyes misted. “Alvira died. The baby died too.”

“I’m so sorry.”

She watched him fight against tears. “Alvira was the only woman I ever loved. She and the baby were my chance to have a normal life. When they were gone, I didn’t want to go on. I was done. Spent. I didn’t have no fight left in me. When Spencer sent Miss Virginia away, I let it happen.”

I know. I was there.

“Later, when he said go, I went. He said do, I did.” He shrugged.

Justine didn’t blame him. Uriah was a force one didn’t cross without pause. “I understand. I’m so sorry.”

“Us two went out west for over a year.” He shook his head. “A rough year full of gambling and cheating. Came a time when even Spencer had enough of it. “One day he announced he wanted to go back to Lawrence and start over. I was ready. That’s when he became Uriah.”

“But you kept your name?”

He shrugged. “I am who I am. Such as I am. The mister shaved his head and beard, got some businessman clothes. He does have a talent for changing. He started walking different and talking different, using different words. He acted respectable and people were taken in. While we were in Salina he won a plot of land in Lawrence in a poker game. He took that as his new start.”

“No one ever recognized him as Spencer?”

He shook his head slow. “Actually, his name . . .” He hesitated. “Before we went west one man said his name too much.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We buried him east of town.”

“For saying his name?”

“Too much.” Caesar shrugged and made a stabbing motion.

Justine felt the breath leave her.

“There are two things that’ll make Uriah do the worst: if he feels disrespected and if he feels his plans are in jeopardy.”

“Don’t cross him.”

“Don’t cross him.”

Justine thought about the times she’d already had a run-in with Uriah. She’d have to be extremely careful. “You’re very loyal.”

“Or stupid. Twice I thought the mister had changed—starting over with Miss Virginia on the farm, and starting over with Miss Alva.” He shuddered. “I don’t want the missus to get hurt. I’m tired of feeling guilty for not doing enough to stop his evil ways.”

“Then stop him this time, for Alva’s sake.”

“Easier said than done.”

“You have a history with him and have remained loyal to him no matter what. Maybe it’s time you stood up to him. Tell him you won’t stand by and see Miss Alva suffer.”

Caesar’s hand formed fists at his side. His breathing quickened. “I can’t. You know I can’t.”

Justine touched his arm. “Now’s the time to do the right thing—before he does something to Alva that’s irreversible.”

“The bad I’ve seen . . . he ruins everything that’s good.”

“He has to be stopped.”

He blinked. And blinked. Then his eyes steadied. “He has to be—”

They both looked up at the sound of a buggy turning onto the drive, coming toward the stables. It was Uriah. Justine’s heart fell to her feet.

Caesar rushed to help Uriah out of the carriage.

But Uriah brushed past his extended hand and glared at Justine. “Miss Braden. What caused you to make a beeline from the depot to my home? You know Alva is gone.” He looked at Caesar, who was taking care of the horse. “What’s she telling you?”

I didn’t tell him anything.

Thank goodness Caesar thought fast. “She was telling me about Miss Alva and her plans with Mrs. Jennings.”

“They’re going to have a lovely time together,” Justine said.

Uriah glared at Justine, then at Caesar, then back again. “You came to my home to update my servant with details that are none of his business?”

Lord? Words please? “Actually, I came over to speak with Mrs. Russo about a recipe for the tea-cakes she served. Dorthea liked them so much I thought I’d learn how to make them as a surprise when she returns.”

His gaze made her cringe. “Mrs. Russo doesn’t work in the stables.”

It was time to make a getaway. “You’re right. If you’ll excuse me.” Justine walked to the house and entered by the kitchen door.

Her spine tingled under the gaze of Ralph Lionel Spencer Uriah Benedict.

 

**

 

Harland and Thomas came into the kitchen after work. “What are you doing?”

“I’m making tea cakes.”

Her father peered into the bowl. “I’m not complaining, but… “

“Why?” Harland asked.

She gave the bowl an extra stir, brushing a stray hair away from her face with the back of her sleeve. “Long story.”

Goosie greased a pan with lard. “But a good one.”

They sat at the table. “We have the time,” Harland said.

“And the curiosity,” her father added.

Justine told them about her conversation with Caesar, the information about Uriah’s three previous identities, his involvement as a shyster, bank robber, gambler, and murderer, as well as the death of Caesar’s wife and baby.

Their response was similar. They each shook their head, incredulous.

Justine stopped her story. “You act as if you don’t believe me.”

“Oh, I believe you,” Thomas said. “I sit in awe of you. You have one conversation with Caesar and he tells you Uriah’s secrets—and his own?”

Justine was taken aback. “He’s worried about Alva. I think he’s had enough and is on the verge of helping us.”

“Isn’t it a little late for him to gain a conscience?” Thomas asked.

“Actually, I had the same thought.” Justine stirred the batter. “Caesar said he thought Uriah had set aside his evil ways when he married Virginia and had children. But . . . he hadn’t, hasn’t.”

“Caesar’s own story is quite interesting. A Negro finding his way through the Civil War couldn’t have been easy,” Harland said. “Even if he was from Philadelphia.”

“Plus all the violence over slavery between Kansas and Missouri before and after?” Thomas added. “We shouldn’t judge him.”

Justine was partially appeased and handed the bowl over to Goosie to pour into the pan. “You don’t even know the most astounding part of his story.”

“Go on.”

“Uriah—when he was Lionel—knew my mother at a spa in Bedford Springs in Pennsylvania.”

“Uriah. Knew Mavis?” Thomas asked.

She nodded. “When we were in New York before coming here, Mother’s lady’s maid told Goosie and I about the same trip.” Justine filled them in, ending with, ”The plan was to head west to Kansas City.”

Thomas shook his head. “Your mother, out here? In the wild west? She left Piedmont to go to New York because she longed for life in a big city.”

“Was your mother . . . romantically involved with Lionel?” Harland asked.

“Caesar said nothing ‘untoward’ happened, but I don’t know.”

Goosie shook her head. “I can’t believe Mavis would be so naïve. Until Franny told us that story, I had no idea her marriage to your father was troublesome, or that troublesome.”

“Neither did I. Of course, I was only two or three then, but even later . . .” Justine tried to think of signs she might have missed. “Mother and Father were never visibly affectionate toward each other, but I just assumed that was the way of most marriages.”

Harland took her hand and kissed it. “Not our marriage.”

He was adorable. She wished she could throw herself into his arms.

“You were saying something about your parents’ relationship?” Thomas asked.

She glanced at Harland. He winked at her. “Last year I learned that my father married my mother because she was expecting me.”

“They grew to love each other in their own way,” Goosie said.

“I think they did.”

“So what happened to change things so your mother didn’t go west?” Harland asked.

“Didn’t go then, and didn’t go a second time,” Justine said. “Franny told us she had tickets bought to come here, to Lawrence, but then Father was wounded and came home from the war, so we stayed.”

“Lawrence? Not Kansas City, but specifically Lawrence?” Dorthea asked.

Justine nodded. “I asked Franny the whys of it, but she didn’t know. But did say Mother was adamant about her choice.”

Goosie bit her lip. “Just think: your mother was coming here and now you’re here. Do you think God was leading her here to do the job you’re doing now?”

The idea was astonishing. “She said no to the gift.”

“She said no,” Goosie said.

Justine pressed a hand to her forehead. “That trip would have been in 1863. Lionel Watkins was a part of Quantrill’s raid that year. Was she supposed to come to stop him?”

“As a part of the time travel, could she—could you—do that?” Harland asked.

“We can’t change the past, but could we change the future?” Her thoughts bounced against each other. “If Mother had been able to stop Lionel in 1863, then he might not have robbed a bank, married Virginia and Alva, or killed a man for saying his name too many times.”

“What?” Thomas asked.

Justine waved the question away. “Caesar said it.”

Harland drummed his fingers on the table. Then stopped. “All these crimes came after 1863 when your mother felt the urge to go to Lawrence.”

“Felt the urge and rejected it,” Goosie added.

“Not as deliberate as all that,” Justine said. “She got word that Father was wounded and was coming home. She had to stay.”

“She said no, but you’ve said yes,” Harland said.

I’ve said yes. It was like trying to sort through a scattered stack of alphabet blocks to get them in the right order.

“Sounds like you have another trip in your future,” Goosie said.

She accepted that. But there was something about the situation that bothered her deeply.

“You turned quiet. What’s wrong?” Harland said.

“If Mother was called to bring justice but said no or couldn’t go, and the result was sixteen more years of evil by Lionel, then it means there are repercussions beyond me being called to facilitate justice from the past. Me not doing it can cause pain and suffering in the future. The future can be affected even if the past cannot be changed.” She looked at each one in turn. “I have to stop Uriah. I have to do what Mother didn’t do.”

Harland gave her a wistful smile. “We know you can do it.”

She nodded, but felt overwhelmed.——

“Are you going to talk to Virginia first?” Goosie asked.

“And tell her what?”

“Shouldn’t she know that her husband is living nearby? And he’s married,” Goosie said.

“That makes him a bigamist,” Harland said.

“Bigamy is the least of his troubles,” Thomas said.

“His troubles are Alva’s troubles,” Justine said. “She will suffer under his next move.”

Thomas dipped a finger in the batter and licked it. “As such, we need to be careful not to push him.” Justine felt a tug in her stomach. “I think it’s too late for that. He saw me talking with Caesar.”

“Does he know what you were talking about?”

“No.” She pointed at the tea cakes. “I said I was getting this recipe.”

They shared a moment of silence. Then Thomas extended his hands. “Come now. Let’s ask God for direction. Only He knows the full truth.”

“Let’s also ask for His protection,” Justine added.

“And His wisdom,” Harland added.

Goosie made a list on her fingers. “And insight and strength and courage and—”

Thomas began. “Holy Father . . .”