Chapter Four

Jane enjoyed being the first one up, with only Wendell to watch her prepare breakfast. The inn’s cat typically pretended indifference to her activities, but he was quick to investigate any morsel she might accidentally drop. Unfortunately for him, there was nothing on the day’s menu that would give him an impromptu treat.

On this Thursday morning Jane had gotten up especially early because their guests, the Larsens, wanted to be on the road before seven. Will and Maggie Larsen had stayed with them the previous fall on their way to an antiques show in Delaware and had made a special point of returning this spring. They were dealers from Michigan who made annual trips to a number of East Coast events.

The Larsens drove an RV, but on the outbound trip it was so loaded with their antiques stock that there wasn’t room for them to sleep in it. Jane was delighted to have them. Their specialties were lamps, vintage toys and silver, but they were a font of information about all kinds of antiques. In fact, they had told her things that she hadn’t

known about the furnishings in Grace Chapel Inn. They especially admired the large Queen Anne mahogany table and the buffet in the dining room. They’d complimented the matching chairs, too, which especially pleased Jane. She loved the chair pads in subtle light green and ivory damask that went perfectly with the room’s green walls. The Larsens predicted there would be a large demand for this type of revival furniture made in the 1920s. Will had wanted to check for a Grand Rapids label to see if it had been made in their home state, but his wife wouldn’t let him.

“It’s their home,” she had rebuked him, apologizing for her husband because he got so wrapped up in his enthusiasm for antiques that he saw everything as potential stock.

Because they were leaving so early, Jane had opted for a simple meal of huevos rancheros. She prepared the mix of fresh tomatoes, green peppers and onions the day before, so all she had to do was heat it. As soon as the Larsens started down the stairs, Jane put servings of the hot vegetables on plates. Next she topped each with two fried eggs, sunny-side up, and added a garnish of toast points. Just to be sure her guests went off happy, she also served fruit compotes made from dried apricots, figs, peaches and pears topped with slivered almonds and served with hot-from-the-oven cornbread muffins.

“This is what I call eating,” Will Larsen said as he broke apart a muffin and covered it with Jane’s homemade orange marmalade.

“Will should know good food when he tastes it,” Maggie said. “He’s the cook at our house. You should see his cookbook collection. I bet he’s got a hundred.”

“More like thirty or forty,” her husband said between bites.

Jane sat down at the table with them, always interested in conversation about cookbooks.

“Some include recipes from eighteenth-century Europe,” Maggie said. “How they cooked in those days! A pinch of this, a dash of that.”

“That’s how I still cook,” Will said with a grin. “Only without pounds of butter and lard.”

“I should think not,” his wife said. “You have to watch your cholesterol.”

He agreed but broke the yolk on his second egg with obvious pleasure.

“I’m going to try to pick up some Amish cookbooks on this trip,” Will said.

“I hope we sell more than he buys,” Maggie said. “Some years it seems the RV is just as full when we get home as when we left.”

“It sounds like fun,” Jane mused. “I haven’t been to an antiques show or flea market in ages. I buy most of the frames for my art that way and restore them myself. I’m nearly out of ones to work on.”

“The spring antiquing season is just starting,” Maggie said enthusiastically. “We won’t touch home base again until just before the Fourth of July. Then we’ll do a few shows closer to home.”

“Once the weather gets good, we’re gypsies,” Will said, using his fork to capture some last bits of muffin.

“We talk about retiring, but we can’t think of anything that’s more fun than what we do now.” Maggie laid her napkin beside the plate with part of her portion untouched. “It’s delicious but more than I can finish, I’m afraid.”

“Can’t let it go to waste,” her husband said, reaching over for her plate and placing his in front of his wife.

“Will! You don’t need more,” Maggie rebuked him.

“Nope, but this may be the best eating we get for weeks,” he said with a sheepish grin.

Before the Larsens left, they booked a room for September when they would be doing a few shows west of Philadelphia. Jane enjoyed having them and looked forward to hearing more about their antiques business when they returned.

Her sisters hadn’t come downstairs yet, and the Larsens had been their only guests the night before. That would change tomorrow. Coincidentally, two women from the Larsen’s home state, Michigan, were scheduled to arrive for a longer stay, and the inn’s four rooms were all booked for the weekend. In fact, there was even a waiting list in case anyone backed out at the last moment.

Now that her guests had departed, Jane worried again about what she and her sisters would see this morning when they opened the door to the shed. She hated the thought that all their efforts to save the fawn might have been futile.

Jane didn’t want to be the one to open the shed door, but she had another idea. She hurried out to the shed, walking through grass still damp with dew. All the equipment that they’d hurriedly removed was scattered around the shed or leaning against the naturally aged wooden walls. She found what she needed, the sturdy stepladder that had served their needs for more years than Jane could remember. Unlike flimsy modern ones, it was built of thick hardwood, heavy to move but reassuringly safe to use. A history of the inn’s interior could be read in the paint splashed on much of its surface. Jane could still see the rosy pink her father had painted her childhood room, and splatters of green from the dining room along with drips from every other wall in the house.

She carefully dragged it to a spot under the shed’s one window, trying to be quiet so she wouldn’t alarm the fawn. The building was low enough that she could see in the only opening by standing on the third rung of the ladder, as high as she cared to climb. From that vantage point, she could lean forward, bracing her hands on the window frame.

There was just enough morning light to allow Jane to make out the form of the fawn. It was sitting, head erect. She took a deep breath, hoping against hope that the still pose didn’t bode ill. Then, to her immense relief, the fawn moved its head. It was alive.

“Jane, what are you doing?”

“Oh, Alice!” She was startled even though she’d half-expected her sister to check on the fawn as soon as she woke up. “I didn’t want to open the door and scare the poor thing.”

“Instead you’re scaring me, teetering on top of that shaky old ladder.”

“It’s sturdy enough where I’m standing,” Jane said, although she was happy to descend from the somewhat precarious perch.

“What did you see?” Alice asked, her sister’s recklessness forgotten.

“The fawn is sitting up and moving its head,” she reported. “Other than that, I couldn’t see much.”

“I wonder if we should open the door, just to be sure it has water.”

“Do you think?” Jane was perfectly willing to let the decision be Alice’s.

“Just a peek.” Alice was already releasing the latch.

With Jane at her shoulder, she eased the door open a crack.

“What do you see?”

The door creaked as Alice pushed it farther. She froze, and Jane nearly collided with her in her eagerness to see what Alice was seeing.

“I don’t think she’s touched the water,” Alice said with distress.

“I wonder how long a wild baby can survive without it.”

“Mark probably won’t be here until after noon. His conference doesn’t start until tomorrow, and he has to get what we need to feed it before he leaves Philadelphia.”

“I’ll feel a lot better when he’s examined it,” Jane admitted. “We’re a little out of our league here.”

“How can we get it to drink?” Jane could think of several possible ways, but she didn’t feel confident about any of them.

“We need to go for some baby bottles when the grocery store opens, but I’d like to see it drink a little right now. We don’t know how long a fawn can go without water.”

“There must be some way to get water into its mouth without hurting it,” Jane said hesitantly.

“Jack squeezed a little water into its mouth with his handkerchief, but I doubt that the fawn got more than a drop or two that way.”

“We could use my baster,” Jane said, thinking of the long tubelike implement with a rubber bulb that she used to baste turkeys or roasts.

“I guess if we’re very careful.” Alice’s medical expertise made her uncomfortable with the thought of using a kitchen tool. “We’d have to be careful not to choke it with more water than it can swallow.”

“It could be five or six hours before Mark gets here,” Jane estimated. “That’s a long time without water. Do you want to try it?”

“I guess.” Alice sounded hesitant.

“You’ll want to do it yourself, of course,” Jane said, deferring to her sister’s long experience caring for human patients.

Gathering the baster, bottled water and a clean bowl from the kitchen was the easy part. Jane followed Alice back to the shed, hanging back in the doorway while her sister stooped in front of the fawn.

“Do deer bite?” Jane said.

“Oh, I think not,” Alice was quick to say. “They fight with their antlers. I guess I wouldn’t want to collide with an adult’s hoof, but I don’t think our baby has an aggressive bone in his body.”

“Or her body, if we’re lucky. I can’t imagine what we would do with a yearling buck. I wonder how old a fawn should be before it can be released into the wilderness.” “If ever,” Alice whispered as she slowly moved the plastic tip to the fawn’s mouth.

She squeezed only a tiny bit at a time, finally sighing with satisfaction when a small amount actually went into the delicate pink mouth instead of running down to the floor. The fawn’s large, dark eyes peered up at her, as though they were begging her to restore the lost mother.

“What are you two doing?” Louise asked softly, approaching Jane as she stood in the partially open door.

“It’s alive,” Jane reported. “Alice is trying to get it to take a little water. We need to get some baby bottles as soon as the store is open.”

“That’s good news anyway.” Louise peered into the shed to confirm for herself that the fawn had made it through the night.

“I’ll go in and fix your breakfast,” Jane said, assured that Alice had the situation under control.

“I can do it myself if you’re needed here.”

“That’s okay. I don’t think there’s much to be done until Mark gets here.”

She followed Louise into the kitchen, glad to occupy herself with familiar tasks. Life at the inn was never dull, but fawn rescue was a whole new experience.

After breakfast, Louise called Viola to tell her the latest news about the baby deer. Their conversation was brief because the bookstore owner was just leaving for Nine Lives, but she was grateful for the update.

“It’s a relief to know a vet will be looking in on our fawn,” Viola said.

Louise smiled at “our fawn,” but in truth, she felt the same way. They’d rescued the poor little thing, so for better or worse, it was their responsibility.

She’d just ended her conversation with Viola when Louise received another call. It was Diana Zale’s mother, inviting Louise to come for tea that afternoon.

Her two conversations left just enough time to get ready for her lesson with Diana, but Louise was a bit distracted by Mrs. Zale’s invitation. Louise hoped it didn’t mean that her daughter wouldn’t be continuing her lessons. Diana was a talented student, and she’d already demonstrated an eagerness to learn that could take her a long way. Louise was planning a course of study for her that included work on some concert pieces in the near future. While Louise enjoyed working with children at all skill levels, it was particularly exciting to have students with the potential to excel.

The parlor was Louise’s favorite room. It was spacious enough for her baby grand piano without crowding an assortment of Victorian furnishings that included three Eastlake chairs, curio cabinets and a carved burl walnut table. While none of the Howard sisters thought of themselves as collectors, they did cherish antiques from their family’s past. A collection of nineteenth- and early twentieth-century dolls was displayed on the table, most in original clothing and wigs with the best dolls displayed under glass domes. Their aunt Ethel, their father’s half sister, had explained that little girls fortunate enough to receive china head dolls were encouraged to admire them rather than to play with them. Their grandmother’s dolls were still in pristine condition because they’d sat on a shelf in the original boxes, largely untouched by her childish hands.

The vase collection included American art pottery in lovely shades of green, gold and rose, particular favorites of Jane. Louise especially liked a pair of Canton vases with Chinese scenes in oval panels. Alice favored simple country pieces like the terra-cotta pitcher their mother had once used to water plants. Now they kept it safe on a shelf, believing that it had formerly been used by a great-great-grandmother.

Louise removed the violet-and-ivory piano shawl and folded the silky fabric to set it aside during the lesson. According to the brass-faced clock on the fireplace mantel, her pupil was due in minutes. If Diana had one fault as a student, it was a tendency to rush in at the last moment or arrive a bit late. She was always apologetic, but Louise would have liked a more sedate beginning to their lessons. Still, Diana’s enthusiasm more than made up for the hurried beginnings. Louise could forgive a lot when she had a pupil so eager to learn.

Diana usually came after school, but this Thursday she had a conflict. Louise was willing to be flexible on lesson times, and she appreciated Diana’s initiative in rescheduling. She’d been excused from a study hall and had received permission to arrange for transportation to and from the inn.

True to form, Diana rushed into the parlor a couple of minutes late and took awhile to extract her music from an overloaded black backpack. She was dressed for school in jeans and a boysenberry knit shirt with lace edging around the V-neck. Her thick-soled running shoes boosted her height to a little over five feet. Her silky honey-brown hair was long and straight, and she always tucked it behind her ears before she started to play. She was a pretty girl with luminous hazel eyes and lips that formed an O when she concentrated on her music.

Louise liked to exchange a few pleasantries with her students before they began their lessons, but this morning she immediately started Diana on her scales. She would have to watch the clock to keep her from being late for her next class.

As soon as she began her first piece, it was obvious that Diana had practiced as much as any teacher could expect. Her hands looked delicate, but her slender fingers were agile, rippling over the keys with confidence.

“I can tell that you worked hard on that,” Louise complimented her student.

The lesson time passed quickly, and she decided against asking Diana any questions about her mother’s invitation to tea. Whatever Mrs. Zale wanted to discuss, she obviously preferred to do it in the privacy of her home. Louise would have to curb her curiosity until the afternoon.

Alice knew that nothing made time pass more slowly than keeping an eye on the clock. She deliberately found a few outdoor jobs to keep her mind off the fawn.

The morning was cool, but the sun was bright. By the time Alice finished sweeping the long front porch, she felt overheated. The shed would get hot by midday, and she didn’t know how that would affect the fawn. She fervently hoped Mark would arrive early to give his expert advice.

Noon came, and Jane urged her to come inside for a light lunch: spinach salad with Jane’s cheesy breadsticks. She’d made extra, anticipating that Mark might join them, but he didn’t arrive while they were eating. The three

sisters lingered at the table, and Louise speculated about her invitation to tea at the Zales’ home. Alice tried to concentrate on the conversation, but she was thinking about Mark’s arrival.

His visits were always welcome, Alice admitted to herself. There was a warmth and depth in their rekindled friendship that added a new dimension to her life. He was the same man she’d known so many years ago, but he’d matured into a kind, caring human being who took life much more seriously than he once had. She was especially happy for his sake that he was embarked on his own quest for faith. It was gradually forming a new kind of bond between them, a fellowship of believers.

In many ways Mark hadn’t changed. He still had a great zest for learning, and he loved to travel. Although he was a little older than Alice, he wasn’t eager to retire anytime soon. The quiet life that Alice loved in Acorn Hill wouldn’t suit his energetic habits, at least not yet. She accepted his friendship with the wisdom of a mature woman, not wanting to change any of the things that made him special.

Alice wanted to freshen up. She went up to her room, assured that Jane would keep an eye out for Mark. She washed and slipped into clean khaki walking shorts and a pale peach knit top that brought out the reddish highlights in her hair. She wasn’t exactly dressing up for Mark, but she didn’t want to greet him in yard clothes.

With time on her hands until Mark arrived, she resisted the urge to check on the fawn. She would leave ladder climbing to Jane and wait until Mark was there to open the door with her. As a nurse, she practiced do-no-harm caregiving, and it seemed sensible to wait for a vet’s expert instructions before taking any action.

Jane had made a trip to the grocery store and secured an assortment of baby bottles, anticipating that they would have to feed the fawn with those items. Louise needed to do some errands before she went to the Zales’ for tea, but she’d promised to help in any way she could with the care and feeding. Both Viola and Jack were probably waiting to hear Mark’s verdict. Alice smiled, realizing that she had a whole team of concerned animal lovers to help her.

Once downstairs, she paced the entryway and kitchen until Jane shooed her away.

“Go read one of your mysteries,” her younger sister insisted. “There’s absolutely nothing that you need to be doing right now.”

Rather than be in the way, Alice retrieved a book she’d started several days before and retreated to the front porch to enjoy reading it in her favorite wicker lounge chair. It was warm but not uncomfortably hot as she settled down to try to outguess the sleuth in the story. After a few pages, she realized that the book was rather disappointing. Her eyelids grew heavy, and she had a hard time concentrating.

“You have the face of an angel when you’re asleep.”

Alice woke with a start to find Mark standing in front of her with a broad smile on his weathered but still handsome face.

“Oh, Mark, I must have drifted off. Did you just get here?”

“Just this minute. It’s good to see you, Alice.”

He offered his hand to help her from the chair, and she smiled her thanks.

“Have you had lunch? Jane made a nice spinach salad.”

“I stopped on the road, thank you.”

Alice glanced at her watch, surprised that it was past two o’clock. She’d napped longer than she thought.

“I can’t tell you how grateful I am for your help. We all are. It feels like such a big responsibility to care for a helpless creature. I hope we did the right thing bringing it here.”

“If the mother was dead, you made the only possible choice. Since most fawns are born in May around here, it’s probably much too young to survive on its own. How about if I take a look at it?”

“Of course, that’s why you came. As I told you, it’s in the gardening shed in back, the only place we could think to put it. Jack O’Hara, our friend who’s an animal control officer, said that dogs are the worst fawn predators in this area. I don’t think many neighbors let theirs run loose, but I wanted a safe temporary haven.”

She noticed that Mark had a small black case with him and felt even more reassured that the fawn had professional help. He was dressed casually, obviously ready to minister to the young animal. She led the way to the shed, walking around the outside of the large cocoa-brown Victorian house with Mark beside her.

“I’ll go inside the shed alone,” he said as they reached the door. “The fewer humans the fawn has to deal with, the better.”

Alice stayed back from the doorway. She could hear Mark murmuring to the animal but couldn’t see what he was doing.

“It’s a female,” he called out to her in a muted voice just loud enough for her to hear.

Her mind registered that as a good thing.

“Has she had any water?” he asked in the same low, soothing voice.

“We tried to give her some bottled water with Jane’s baster. I think she got a little but not much. Jane bought some baby bottles, but we wanted you to see her before we tried again.”

Mark seemed to be spending an awfully long time with the fawn, but Alice was grateful that he was being thorough. She very much hoped that he would pronounce her in good condition.

At last he came out carrying his case.

“She’s doing well considering the loss of her mother. If you can get her to take nourishment, I think she’ll make it. I have frozen colostrum in a cooler in the car, enough to last several days. I’ll take care of getting more when you need it. The bad news is that you can’t keep her in the shed indefinitely. She will need to be in a controlled outdoor situation where she can eventually learn to graze for food.”

“When she can get food herself, can she be released into the wild?”

Mark’s expression wasn’t reassuring.

“After the human contact that it takes to feed and care for her, she might not have the survival skills she needs in the wild. Humans are a deer’s worst enemy. This one won’t realize that after being hand-fed.”

“What should we do then?”

“For now, just worry about getting her to eat. Then you need to find a better situation. When she’s able to fend for herself, I have a few ideas about where she can go. I’ll have to do some checking and get back to you. I’m afraid I don’t pay as much attention as I should to local wildlife. A sick rhino or a rogue baboon is more in my line of work.”

“So for now all we can do is try to feed her. Will she be all right in the shed on warm days?” “Should be. I see you opened the window. That’s good.”

“Jack O’Hara is going to look into a better temporary place to keep her, maybe a farm.”

“That would be an improvement over the shed. Meanwhile, I’ll bring the cooler inside so you can put the colostrum in your freezer. Just thaw what you intend to use right away. Bring it to room temperature in the microwave. It’s not so different from feeding a human baby.”

“I guess we can manage that.” Alice smiled.

“Oh, before I forget, I have a bale of hay in the back of my van. The cuttings were a fair substitute, but you’re going to want to spread some hay and change it frequently. I printed out some instructions from the Internet. They’re from a fawn rescue organization and will give you some of the basics.”

“Thank you so much, Mark,” Alice said. “This is a new challenge for all of us. Can I offer you some coffee or tea?”

“I would really like a glass of Jane’s iced tea,” he said with a familiar smile. “I just wish I could stick around for a while to see how your new guest gets on. But I made this speaking commitment a year ago. I can’t back out at the last minute.”

“Of course not. I’m only so grateful that you came and brought the formula.”

“What are friends for?” He smiled with his whole face, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of good humor and con

cern. “I wouldn’t say no to Jane’s cookies if she happens to have some on hand.”

“She wouldn’t be Jane if she didn’t.”

Alice’s spirit lifted as Mark talked and joked with Jane and her over a plate of Jane’s frosted lemon bars, Mark’s favorite treat, which she’d baked up fresh that morning in anticipation of his visit. He kidded that he would have come without the incentive of seeing the fawn if he’d known she was making them.

Alice was always sorry to see Mark leave, but she regretted it even more this time. Somehow they had to make sure the fawn accepted the substitute for its mother’s milk that Mark had delivered. Otherwise they would surely lose her. She didn’t even want to think about failure.