Tenderness (21 page)

“Who would believe that? Everyone knows I get good marks in school.”

“They may think that you’re wanting to skip a grade.”

“Yeah? Do you think I could?”

The voices of her sister and her friend drifted over Jesse’s head. She had no thoughts except of the man she had left sitting
on the big horse, the time they had spent together and the words that had passed between them.

Jesse was so occupied with her thoughts of Wade that the time flew by, and soon they were crossing the bridge and entering
Harpersville.

It had been a very satisfying day for Louella Lindstrom.

Alone in the house for the entire day, she had decided it would be a good time to clean the doctor’s bedroom. Until today
she had only made the bed, run the carpet sweeper over the rug and the dust mop over the hardwood floor around the edges.
Jesse had made it plain to her that that was all she needed to do.

The room was large and airy with beautiful walnut furniture and a bed with posters that reached within a foot of the ceiling.
Papers and medical journals littered the room except for the table beside the doctor’s bed. A gas lamp hung from the ceiling.
An oil lamp with twining pink roses painted on the shade, a framed picture of Dora Forbes and the doctor’s pipe sat on an
embroidered scarf on the bedside table.

Louella picked up the picture and looked at it curiously. Dora had not been beautiful by any means, but she was pleasant-looking,
just as she had been when she was a girl. Time had blurred Dora’s features in Louella’s memory until she had seen Susan. The
girl resembled her mother; there was no doubt about that, but she hadn’t inherited her mother’s ways. Dora had always been
sweet, demure and easily manipulated. Susan was strong-willed and to Louella’s way of thinking, a rude little snip.

Only through the chance meeting with an old acquaintance had Louella learned that Dora had married a doctor, had borne two
children and had passed on several years ago. The information had come just in the nick of time when Louella desperately needed
a place to go.

By mid-afternoon the furniture except for the bed (because she couldn’t move it) had been rearranged, and the room had been
cleaned until not a particle of dust could be found. The polished surface of the walnut furniture gleamed. Its beautiful grain
was caught by the sunlight that came through the freshly washed windows. Long-unused dresser scarfs with fancy crocheted edges,
which she had found in a bottom drawer, covered the tops of the chiffonier, the dresser and the table beside the bed. Louella
had thought of moving Dora’s picture to a corner shelf, but decided to let it stay on the table for now as it was best not
to make too many changes all at once.

The lady’s writing desk with the French bevel plate mirror was the only piece of furniture in the room that was not walnut.
It was solid oak with a high gloss finish. The writing lid let down to reveal a series of pigeonholes with one drawer in the
middle. It was locked. In the pigeonholes were a collection of calling cards. Stationery was heaped helter-skelter just as
Dora had left it.

After arranging the contents of the desk to her satisfaction, Louella, working with a shoe hook, opened the locked drawer,
took out the handful of letters and went to the chair beside the window. After sorting the letters by handwriting and date,
she began to read.

Thirty minutes later, smiling, Louella realized there was more to Dora Forbes than she’d ever dreamed. She put the letter
from Dusty Wright, the marshal, in her apron pocket. It always paid, she told herself, to have an extra ace in the hole when
the stakes were high. She returned the rest of the letters to the drawer and carefully relocked it.

It was dusk when Jesse walked into the house. The parlor was alight in the glow of the gas lamps. The rest of the house was
in semi-darkness. She sniffed and realized that what she smelled was the furniture polish her stepmother had taught her to
make by using a cup of vinegar, a cup of turpentine and a cup of boiled linseed oil. She followed the path of light that came
from the open door of her father’s room.

As she stood in the doorway and surveyed the room, Jesse felt anger boiling up inside her. The housekeeper sat in Dora’s platform
rocker reading by the light of an oil lamp on the onyx-top brass table from the parlor. The rearranged furniture stood in
splendid polished silence. The bed was covered with the white fringed honeycomb bedspread that she had washed, folded carefully,
and put away at her father’s request.

“You’re back. I was beginning to worry.” Louella stood. “I’ve been sitting here reading the doctor’s journals. My goodness,
I never realized that medicine was so interesting.”

“I distinctly remember telling you, Mrs. Lindstrom, to leave Papa’s room alone. He didn’t want it rearranged, or I would have
done it myself.”

“But, dear, isn’t it lovely? The furniture is valuable, you know, and shouldn’t be left to stand in dust—”

“It was not your decision to make.”

“You must not allow sentiment to keep such a pleasant room in gloom. I know it will cause Hollis a pang at first, but afterwards
he will be glad to put the past behind him.”

Jesse, trying to ignore the housekeeper’s use of her father’s first name, walked over to Dora’s desk and pulled down the slanted
lid. Stationery was neatly tied with ribbon. Envelopes and cards were in the pigeonholes. Beads and other trinkets were placed
either in small boxes or envelopes and stacked neatly. Jesse whirled to face the housekeeper and drew in a deep angry breath.

“These were my stepmother’s things. Papa has never allowed anyone to touch them.”

“Nonsense!” Louella scoffed. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve not removed a thing. It’s all there anytime he wants to look at it.”

Jesse tried the drawer. Thank goodness it was still locked. She had no idea of what was in it or why her father kept the key
on his keyring. She closed the lid on the desk.

“You should bow to my judgment on this, Jesse. It isn’t healthy for Hollis to wallow in grief.” She would have said more but
something in Jesse’s face silenced her.

“Dora’s hair-saver sat here on the chiffonier. Where is it?”

“In the bottom drawer.”

Jesse took the china jar with the hole in the lid from the drawer where she also found Dora’s comb, brush and mirror set.
She placed them on the chiffonier after first looking to see if the blond hair had been removed. It was there and she cast
a warning look at the housekeeper.

Louella turned down the oil lamp and went to the door.

Jesse followed.

“Do you children want a bite to eat? I made a peach pie. It’s the doctor’s favorite.”

“Don’t refer to me as a child, Mrs. Lindstrom. I’m twenty-two years old.”

“Yes, I know. I didn’t want to embarrass you.”

“Why would I be embarrassed?”

“Well… twenty-two years old, unmarried, and still living in your father’s house—”

“I see. So you think there is a stigma attached to an unmarried, twenty-two-year-old woman still living in her father’s house.”

Jesse was seething with anger, and it showed in her face and the sharpness of her voice.

“No, of course not. Maiden ladies have a certain place in our society. But some people in town think that it’s not exactly
natural… that you show no interest in a social life or meeting a young man and establishing your own home—” Louella’s words
trailed as Todd, Susan and Pauline came through the dining room to the hall.

“J-Jess, can we have the p-pie?”

“Yeah, old p-poothead made it.” Todd scooted behind Susan and made for the kitchen door when he saw the housekeeper.

“Of course, you can have it. I’ll cut it for you. Come on, Pauline. Mrs. Lindstrom is tired and wants to retire. She’s had
a
busy
day.” Jesse turned her back on the housekeeper and herded the others toward the kitchen.

“Gosh, Jess. You’re madder than a wet hen. I can tell,” Susan swung the door closed. “What’s old poothead done now? I like
Todd’s name better.”

Jesse, with her back turned to reach for the plates, tried to get her anger under control before she spoke.

“You’re right. But I don’t want to talk about it. I might explode.”

“Was it a-a-about m-me?” Todd asked, his face anxious.

“No, sugar. Why would it be about you?” Jesse replied as she cut a large wedge of pie and put it on his plate. “You’re the
best nine-year-old, dirty, sassy, good-for-nothing boy I know.” He rewarded her teasing with a wide grin. “ ’Course sometimes
you’re darn near perfect and at other times utterly revolting.”

“I’m a-a-lmost ten.”

“She rides Todd about his stuttering; that’s why he thinks it’s ’bout him. I heard her and I yelled for her to shut up. She
said she’d tell Papa, but I guess she didn’t. He never said anything.”

Jesse’s eyes, sparking with angry lights, caught Pauline’s before they moved on to her sister. “Exactly what did she say to
Todd, Susan?”

“Well, she said he could talk without stammering if he wanted to and it was his way of getting attention. She said only stupid
people stammer when they talk. That’s when I told her to shut up.”

Although she was so angry that she was about to cry, Jesse struggled for something to say and was relieved when Pauline filled
the void.

“That shows you how stupid
she
is,” Pauline said heatedly. “Todd is one of the smartest pupils in the school. Many great men in history stammered. For instance,
Lewis Carroll who wrote
Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.
The Bible says that Moses was slow in speech. Demosthenes, an Athenian statesman, stammered and he eventually became the
greatest of ancient Greek orators.”

“Ichabod told us about him. He talked with stones in his mouth.”

“Just as you’re doing with pie in yours, dear little sister,” Jesse said drily.

“P-Papa says I’ll g-grow out of it.” Todd’s eyes clung to his teacher’s face.

“And you will. I’m sure of it. Some think that people who stammer are extra smart, that the brain works too fast for the tongue
to keep up with it. Did you notice that you didn’t stammer as much today?” Pauline asked.

“I d-d-didn’t?”

“You didn’t because you didn’t think about it. If you think about your stammering, you’ll stammer even more. Just let the
words flow out.”

Grateful for Pauline’s wise counseling, Jesse cut a wedge of pie for herself although she didn’t know if she would be able
to eat it. The scene with the housekeeper had upset her to the extent that her stomach roiled and her head throbbed. It had
been a wonderful day. Why did it have to end on such a sour note?

She looked up as her father pushed open the swinging door.

“I thought I heard voices in here.” He shoved the door back until it caught the latch and remained open. “I don’t know why
this thing has to be closed.”

“I can tell you. It’s old—”

“—Come sit down Papa. Have some pie.” Jesse gave her sister a warning glance and got up to get a plate and the silverware
caddy.

“We h-had fun, P-Papa. Jody’s dog’s got p-pups. Tell him, J-Jess.”

“You tell him, you’re doing a pretty good job of it. Sit here, Papa. Do you want me to heat the coffee?”

The doctor sat down. “No, thanks. I’ll just have some of that pie.” His smile included all at the table. “Looks to me like
you all had a day in the sun. Sis, I do believe that you’ve got a hundred more freckles on your nose,” he said to Susan.

“I do! Oh, darn! Are you teasing, Papa?”

“What have you been in, Todd. I… smell something.”

“Dog do-do, more than likely,” Susan chortled happily. “He played with Delilah’s pups all day.”

“Delilah? I thought he said Jody’s pups.”

“Jody’s d-dog’s pups. It’s fun there, P-Papa. Mr. S-Simmer’s got some g-goats too.”

“You spent the day at Mr. Simmer’s? Did you change your mind about going to Granny Lester’s or staying at the store with Mrs.
Froney?”

“Mr. Simmer met us on the road before we got to the store and we went to his house,” Susan explained.

“Is that so?” Hollis looked at his son and winked. Todd winked back, his eyes twinkling and his face split with a grin.

“Mr. Simmer cooked a turkey, Papa. When I said we only have turkey on special occasions like Thanksgiving and Christmas, he
said it was a special occasion. I don’t know what he meant by that.” Susan looked knowingly at her elder sister, who threw
her another warning glance. “I climbed up in the hayloft and that darkie threw a cow pie at me. Jody’s not so bad if you can
stand his smart mouth.”

“That takes care of Susan and Todd. How about you, Pauline? What do you think of the hill country?” Hollis continued to eat
his pie.

“It’s pretty up there. I thought the people all lived in shacks and hogs rooted in the yard and chickens wandered into the
house. Mr. Simmer’s home is nice. It’s as modem as any house in town.”

Hollis winked at Jesse. “I take it you didn’t take her to the Merfelds’.”

“Mr. Simmer went with Jesse,” Susan announced. “We stayed at his house with Pauline… ah… Miss Anthony.”

“I-It was fun, P-Papa. Th-thank you for I-letting us go.”

“You’re welcome, son.” Hollis placed his hand on Todd’s shoulder and squeezed.

“Doctor. I didn’t know you were home.” Louella stood framed in the doorway. “I’ll make you some fresh coffee.”

“Don’t bother.” Jesse spoke quickly and somewhat crisply. “I asked him, and he doesn’t want coffee. We’ll not need you any
more this evening, Mrs. Lindstrom. The girls and I will tidy up before we retire.”

“Well,” she hesitated and looked directly at Hollis. He glanced at her and turned his attention back to his plate. “I’m glad
you got here before the pie was gone, Doctor. The other evening while we were sitting in the porch swing you told me among
other things that blue was your favorite color and peach was your favorite pie.”

“It’s very tasty, Louella, especially after that train ride. Thank you.”

Louella glanced at Jesse. She wanted her to know that she and the doctor had had intimate conversations. Jesse was staring
at her with icy blue eyes. Something would have to be done and soon, or the doctor’s elder daughter would spoil her plans.
If she could get that girl married to Edsel Harper, she would be able to handle the other two. The boy would be easy. Susan
would be easy too, after a while.