Where Wildflowers Bloom: A Novel Read online

  “Well, I can do that all right. Faith here is running the store now.”

  She smiled, relieved that he remembered.

  Grandpa took her hand. “Why am I in the servant’s room? What happened?”

  A pulse throbbed in her throat. She stared at the doctor, sending him a frantic question with her eyes.

  He warned her to silence with a slight shake of his head. “You fell and took a bad blow to your temple. Rest now. Faith will bring you a cool cloth for your forehead in a moment.” The doctor lifted his medical bag and clasped Grandpa’s shoulder. “I’ll stop by tomorrow to see how you’re doing.”

  Faith followed him from the room. As soon as they were out of earshot, she asked, “What’s the matter with him? He keeps asking the same question.”

  “I’ve seen brief amnesia with head injuries before. It’s nothing to worry about—unless he’s still asking tomorrow.” He tilted his head, an avuncular expression on his face. “Just be patient with him for now. Most of all, don’t let him move around too much. If you need firewood split, or other such, best call on a neighbor.”

  “I can do firewood. Have been ever since . . .” She blinked away quick tears. “Since Papa and Maxwell left. They showed me how.” She opened the front door and stood to one side. A chilly breeze slipped past her, ruffling her skirt. “How long do you think it will be before we can go back to the store?” Faith hated herself for asking, but the only time Grandpa had closed the mercantile was when they received the news from Westport.

  “ ‘We’?”

  She nodded. “Grandpa has asked me to take over for him. Now . . .” She waved a hand toward the rear of the house. “I can’t be in two places at once.”

  “Nor should you be. I thought your grandfather was rambling when he said you were running things. I don’t know what possessed him—a young lady such as yourself involved in commerce. It’s not proper.”

  His tone riled Faith. “I can manage the mercantile, and I plan to. What’s proper has changed since the war.”

  “Things haven’t changed that much, missy.” He wagged his finger at her. “I’ve known you since you were born. I’ll thank you to show some respect.”

  “I could hardly refuse my grandfather’s wishes, could I?” She stifled her irritation. “Can you suggest a person who might be able to stay with him so I can tend the store?”

  “Absolutely not. Your place is right here.”

  The following morning, Faith jolted awake at the sound of her grandfather’s cane tapping across the downstairs floor. She flung the covers aside and dashed halfway down the stairs to the landing in time to see him fully dressed, walking out the front door. Gray daylight outlined his form as he moved out of sight.

  “Mercy sakes! Grandpa!”

  If he heard her, he didn’t stop.

  No time to don a robe. She flew down the stairs after him and caught up just as he crossed at the end of their block. The mud in the street squished between her bare toes and wicked along the hem of her nightgown.

  Grandpa stared at her with astonishment. “What are you doing out here? You’re not even dressed.”

  “Grandpa, what are you doing out here? You might fall again. Come with me, and let’s have some breakfast.” She slipped her arm under his.

  “Eggs and potatoes. Not that oatmeal pap.”

  “Eggs it is.”

  As the sun crested the horizon, roosters crowed insults at one another from behind nearby homes. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a curtain drawn back in their neighbor’s window. She turned her head and waved, grinning. Might as well give folks something new to discuss.

  After eating, Grandpa paced back and forth in the entry hall. “You sure August said I have to rest at home?” He addressed the question on one of his trips past the kitchen door.

  Faith turned from the basin where she was washing the breakfast dishes. “The doctor was very clear on the subject. ‘Rest for a few days,’ he said. He’ll be here later to check on you.”

  Grandpa settled onto one of the kitchen chairs, a glum expression on his face. “I can’t be still for that long. He’ll have to tie me down.”

  Her heart stirred. Maybe there was a solution for both of them. “Would you like me to bring you your papers? You can work here.”

  “Would you do that?” He brightened for a moment, then his moustache drooped. “What about the mercantile? We can’t leave it closed. People depend on us.”

  Faith crossed the room and dropped a kiss on his bald spot. “I have an idea.”

  Dr. Greeley arrived a few minutes after ten. “How’s your grandfather this morning?”

  “He’s stopped asking about his accident. But he’s restless. He’s not used to being idle.” Faith hung the doctor’s hat on the hall tree. “I told him I’d bring him some papers from the store, so he’d have something to do.”

  “Good. No reason he can’t be up and around, but he needs to refrain from strenuous activity for a bit.”

  “That you, August?” Grandpa stepped out of the parlor.

  “None other.” He studied his patient. “Except for that bandaged head, you look like you’ve recovered.”

  “Nothing wrong with me. A sore head’s all. You got time for a game of checkers?”

  Faith recognized opportunity. Before the doctor could answer, she said, “While you two are busy with your game, I’ll dash to the store and get your papers, Grandpa.”

  Surprise, followed by irritation, crossed the doctor’s face. “I wasn’t planning—”

  “I shouldn’t be too long.” She favored him with a winsome smile. “Thank you. It’s very kind of you to stay.” She whisked upstairs and grabbed her shawl and bonnet.

  When Faith reached the town square, she bypassed the mercantile and entered the office of the Noble Springs Observer. Mr. Simpkins eyed her with surprise.

  “How about if I come tell you if I hear of more casualties? Save you the trouble of dropping in so often.” He sounded a touch sarcastic.

  She folded her arms across her chest. “Fine. I won’t bother you again. But that’s not why I’m here. I have a question and figured if anyone would have the answer, it would be you. No one knows more about Noble Springs.”

  He straightened in his chair, chest puffed. “Ask away.”

  “Yesterday morning, a woman named Rosemary was in the mercantile. Two of the ladies who saw her told me she had been a nurse. Do you know where I might find her?”

  “Only one person like that around here. What would a decent gal like you want with her?”

  Faith blinked at the open prejudice in his voice. Why was it permissible for a woman to care for a child who was ill, but not to help injured soldiers? “I have something to ask her. Where does she live?”

  He walked to the window and pointed east. “Follow King’s Highway about three blocks. Saxons live on the left, gray house, white fence around the yard.”

  “Saxons?” Faith swallowed. “Does she have a brother who works at Ripley’s Livery?” As soon as she asked, she remembered Rosemary saying that she’d come to Noble Springs to live with her brother.

  “Yep. He showed up around six months ago, but she hasn’t been here that long. People are stirred up since the war ended. Some folks leaving, some coming. Be glad when things settle down.”

  Faith thought of her own plans to travel to Oregon. “I can understand not wanting to remain around sad memories.”

  “Wherever you go, you take yourself with you. Memories and all.” He combed his fingers through his rumpled blond hair. “Might as well stay put.”

  She moved toward the doorway. “Thank you for your help.”

  “Welcome. Say, I noticed your grandpappy didn’t open the mercantile this morning. Been some customers pass by.”

  “We’ll be open this afternoon. You can tell anyone who asks.”

  Once out on the boardwalk she turned east, but her steps slowed as she neared the gray house. Knowing that Rosemary must be Mr. Saxon’s sister alte
red her intentions. She hated to impose on the family again, after all that had happened yesterday, but the woman was her best hope.

  Behind the picket fence, a neatly maintained yard with raised flower beds framed the front walk. Rows of seedlings lifted their leaves toward the sun. Faith couldn’t help but contrast the tidy garden with the tumble of weeds in front of her house. Some people had a knack for coaxing flowers out of the soil. She wasn’t one of them.

  She reached for the latch on the gate just as Rosemary appeared on the gravel pathway leading from the rear of the building. She wore a faded blue chambray dress and carried a trowel. Her fingers were covered with dirt. The sable and white collie trotted at her heels.

  Rosemary’s eyes widened. “You’re Faith, from the mercantile.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “This is a surprise. Please, come in.” She led the way to the porch steps, removing her sunbonnet as she walked. Glossy black hair tumbled loose from its pins. “Fiddle.” Rosemary shook her head, freeing the curls. “Gardening isn’t the tidiest task.”

  Faith smiled, enjoying the woman’s casual response to her unscheduled visit. Some people she knew would fly into a dither at unexpected guests. “I can’t stay but a minute. I know it’s presumptuous of me, but I’m afraid I came to ask a favor.”

  “Please, sit.” Rosemary gestured toward two wicker chairs on the covered porch. “How can I assist you?”

  “I need help, and you’re the first person I thought of.” Heat rose up her neck. Now that she was here, she knew how forward her request would sound. “My grandfather fell yesterday.”

  “That was your grandfather? My brother told me he’d taken an old gentleman home.” Her eyes twinkled. “He also said he met a pretty girl with eyes the color of lake water.”

  “Oh, goodness.” Faith didn’t think of herself as a pretty girl, not with her straw-brown hair and sturdy figure. She couldn’t compare with the ladies pictured in Godey’s.

  “And the favor?” Rosemary asked.

  Faith talked fast, before she could lose her courage. “Grandpa’s not to do anything strenuous for a few days, so he can’t go to the mercantile. I can’t leave him alone at home. I need a nurse to look after him so I can open the store. Would you come?”

  Rosemary paled. She stood, shaking her head. “No. That part of my life is over.”

  5

  Faith recoiled at the vehemence of Rosemary’s response. “I . . . I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to insult you.” She rose and moved toward the steps. “I’ll be on my way. Forgive the intrusion.”

  “Wait.” Rosemary held out a soil-stained hand. “Please understand. I came to Noble Springs to start fresh. You called today because you heard the gossip about me, didn’t you?”

  Embarrassed, Faith nodded.

  “We lived in St. Louis when the war started. Within a year, Jefferson Barracks was transformed into a hospital complex for the wounded. I felt the Lord calling me into nursing, and offered my services to Major Surgeon Randolph.” Rosemary closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, they glistened with tears. “So many wounded men—hundreds—and not enough hands to care for them. In spite of his hesitation at using a female, Major Randolph agreed. I had quarters on the post with the other ladies who eventually arrived, so it wasn’t until I left a few months ago that I fully realized how much I’d be condemned for my service.”

  Faith looked at the floor, wishing she could escape. She knew she’d been guilty of similar self-righteous thoughts. “Judge not, that ye be not judged” ran through her mind. The pain on Rosemary’s face illustrated how deeply she’d been hurt by finger-pointing and whispers.

  Faith met the other woman’s eyes. “You can’t imagine how small I feel right now. I’d give anything not to have intruded.”

  Rosemary’s expression softened. “It’s I who must apologize, burdening you with my story.” Her lips curved in a half-smile. “A simple ‘no, thank you’ would have been sufficient. Truly, I’m happy you stopped by, whatever your reason. I’m lonely here. As you can imagine, I haven’t been flooded with invitations to join the ladies’ sewing circle or literary discussion group.”

  Faith snickered. “They’re boring anyway.”

  “Yes, I expect they are.” Rosemary chuckled, then turned serious. “If you can overlook my refusal, I’d be pleased if you’d come by again one day for tea and a real visit.”

  Faith covered the distance between the Saxons’ home and the mercantile at a rapid pace. Too much time had elapsed since she left Dr. Greeley with her grandfather. The doctor would be furious.

  Her thoughts tumbled over one another like the darkening clouds massing overhead. Without help, she had no choice but to remain at home with Grandpa. What would happen to the business? They still had a ways to go to recover from the deprivations of the war.

  The wind changed, thick with the scent of rain. A few more minutes and she’d be home, but first she needed to collect Grandpa’s papers from the shed behind the mercantile.

  The floor creaked when she stepped inside. Everything was as he’d left it yesterday morning. Faith placed filled sheets on top of the blank pages and glanced at the words in her grandfather’s spiky handwriting.

  I am now seventy years old and have had a most eventful career, a history I propose to write for the benefit and satisfaction of my descendants . . .

  Feeling like a spy, she rolled the papers into a tube and closed the door of the shed. When Grandpa wanted her to read his recollections, he’d offer them to her.

  Fat raindrops splattered on the boardwalk. Faith tucked the manuscript pages inside her shawl, protecting them with her arms, and strode toward home. When she passed the livery, she darted a quick glance at the doorway, disappointed when she didn’t see Mr. Saxon. His kindness yesterday deserved greater thanks than she’d displayed. Perhaps she would drop by with a plate of spice cookies tomorrow. That should bring a smile to his face.

  In the distance, three men rode in her direction along High Street. The one in the center was mounted on a tall black stallion. He sat straight in the saddle, his hat pulled low against the rain. All three men wore canvas overcoats. As they approached, Faith ducked her head so she wouldn’t be caught staring. Her hands clutched the papers under her shawl. She dared another quick glance.

  The rider on the stallion looked like Royal Baxter.

  On Friday, Faith stood at the kitchen table rolling spice cookie dough into balls and dipping them into a bowl of sugar. The fragrance of molasses and cinnamon swirled from the oven. Cooling cookies rested on brown paper spread over a shelf under the window. Once the final batch left the oven, she’d take a plateful to the livery.

  She hummed while she worked, grateful that she and Grandpa had Dr. Greeley’s blessing to return to the mercantile on Monday. Faith prayed that their enforced absence during the week hadn’t affected trade.

  Her mind returned to the riders she’d seen on Tuesday. They were adequately dressed and well mounted, so they didn’t look like displaced stragglers. Could the tall man on the black stallion really have been Royal Baxter? She’d had only a glimpse through the falling rain. Besides, she hadn’t seen him since she was sixteen. Time and war changed a man. No telling what he might look like today.

  The smell of smoke stung her nose. Faith jerked the oven door open and removed a pan of scorched cookies. Grandpa poked his head into the kitchen. “You making charcoal in here?”

  She giggled. “Just one pan full. Want some?”

  He entered the room and squeezed her shoulder. “Believe I’ll try one of these instead.” He lifted one of the sugared treats from the cooling shelf. Around a mouthful, he asked, “Are we still going to have sweets when you’re busy at the Mercantile?”

  “Of course. Wouldn’t be supper without dessert, would it?”

  Faith approached Ripley’s Livery with her gift of cookies tucked into a basket. Neither Mr. Saxon nor Mr. Ripley were visible, so she entered the shaded stable. The smell of horseflesh and manure assail
ed her the moment she stepped inside. Thick underbrush swayed beyond the open rear doors, propelled by wind that gusted around the enclosure.

  Mr. Ripley peered at her over the top of a stall door. “Afternoon, Miss Faith. What brings you here? Granddad ailing again?”

  “Thankfully, no.” She took a quick glance around, hoping to see Mr. Saxon.

  “You looking for Curt?”

  “I brought a token of appreciation for him—for both of you—for helping us the other day. It was a trying time.”

  He closed the stall door and walked to the center of the building. Tipping his head back, he bellowed, “Saxon! Lady to see you.”

  A flush burned Faith’s cheeks. “I just came to deliver a thank-you.” She held out the basket. “If you’ll take this, I’ll be on my way.”

  “What’s your hurry?” He pointed at a ladder leading to the hayloft. “Here he comes now.”

  She bit her lip. The last thing she wanted was to seem to be pursuing the stableman. Minutes seemed to pass as she watched him approach. A smile creased his face.

  “Miss Faith. What a fine surprise.”

  “These are for you and Mr. Ripley.” She thrust the basket at him, her tone formal. “You helped us so much on Monday. I wanted to thank you properly.”

  Mr. Ripley stepped close and lifted the napkin. “Well, looky here, a heap of cookies.” He reached inside and removed a handful. “Mighty nice of you, Miss Faith. Anytime you want my help, just holler.”

  “Thank you,” she said, taken aback. This wasn’t going the way she’d planned. Mr. Saxon was the one who’d done the most on her grandfather’s behalf. Faith lifted her head and caught a glint of amusement in his eyes.

  “Looks like you brought plenty.” Mr. Saxon cocked an eyebrow at his employer. “Good thing too. Rip’s fast on the draw when it comes to food.”