Embers of Love Read online

  “Very nearly. This is a company town, owned and operated by the Perkins family. They own the sawmill and arranged for most everything you see. Mr. Perkins is a very nice man, so folks here count themselves blessed. Some towns suffer at the hands of cruel masters. Here the people are treated quite well. Prices are not overly inflated and people can be paid in cash upon proof of an emergency. Oh, and they pay out cash at Christmas and Texas Independence Day – March the second. Some folks are suggesting it be changed to America’s Independence Day, but like I said, many of the citizens are still feeling rather hostile toward the northern states.”

  “I’m not sure I understand what you said regarding money. Aren’t the people otherwise paid?”

  Deborah smiled. “Not in cash. They’re paid with company tokens that they can exchange for goods. Payment for rent and medical needs is taken out of their salaries. They even tithe in tokens.”

  Lizzie had never heard of such a thing. “But how then can they save up money or invest for their future?”

  Her friend shook her head. “They can’t. They have no future but this town. They are essentially owned by the company.”

  “But that’s slavery, and Mr. Lincoln abolished that during the war.”

  “Don’t talk about Mr. Lincoln too loud down here. Folks won’t take too kindly to it.” Deborah motioned to the commissary. “Let’s step inside. It’s much too warm to stand out here in the sun. G. W. will know where to find us.”

  Lizzie followed her up the wooden steps, avoiding the splintered rail. Three large dogs were resting near the door and looked up only long enough to ascertain whether Deborah and Lizzie were a threat before putting their heads back down.

  The screen door moaned as Deborah pulled it open. Lizzie stepped inside, taking a moment to allow her eyes to adjust to the darker interior. The walls were stacked to the ceiling with shelved goods. Rows of tables and display cases offered everything from razors to shoes to writing paper. Across the store in the far corner were shelves lined with canned goods and sacks of rice, beans, and cornmeal. Each was clearly stamped, along with the weight.

  “Let’s see if they have anything cold to drink. Mr. Perkins brings ice in from time to time.” They made their way across the rough-hewn floor to the counter, where an older man was busy folding fabric.

  “Mr. Greeley, it’s good to see you again,” Deborah began.

  The man looked up and studied the two women for a moment. “Miss Deborah?”

  “It’s me,” she replied, laughing. “All grown up, as Mama would say.”

  He put aside his material and gave them his full attention. “I knew you were expected. Your mama has been tellin’ everyone about you comin’ home.”

  “Just came in on the train. G. W.’s gone to find Rob. He was supposed to be here with the wagon since we didn’t want to wait for the log train.”

  “Are you home for good?” He looked at Lizzie. “Oh, where are my manners? Introduce me to your friend.”

  “This is Miss Elizabeth Decker. We attended school together. She will be staying with us for a while.”

  “Miss Decker, you are like a ray of sunshine. Menfolk down here will be happy to see another female. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  “Likewise,” she said, uncertain if the nod of her head was the proper greeting.

  Deborah didn’t give her time to consider the matter further. “We were hoping you might have something cold to drink.”

  “I surely do. Mrs. Greeley made two pitchers of lemonade, as well as some sweet tea. Which do you prefer?”

  “Oh, lemonade would surely be perfect,” Deborah declared.

  “Why don’t you two have a seat, and I’ll bring it right out to you.”

  Deborah nodded and led Lizzie to an area just beyond the counter, where several small tables and chairs had been positioned. “The men often gather here for coffee and checkers. Sometimes they even have a meeting or two.”

  Lizzie took a seat on the obviously handmade chair. She worried that the unfinished wood would snag her skirt, but noted that Deborah seemed to give it little thought. Deborah had been right; this was quite different from what she had known back East.

  “As you can see, the store has an ample supply of cloth goods, foods, and household supplies. My mother wrote to tell me that they recently opened a hardware store across the street to handle some of the larger tools and building materials. Down the street is the church and school. There’s a livery and blacksmith, as well as a new doctor’s office and infirmary. According to my mother, Mrs. Perkins finally convinced Mr. Perkins to hire a quality doctor since a great many women have died from childbed fever or in childbirth itself.”

  “How sad that they should have died when such progress has been made. Remember the lecture we heard just before graduation? Mrs. Lyman was the speaker.”

  Deborah nodded. “Yes, I know she was especially encouraged that medicine was making abundant improvements, especially in women’s needs. But a doctor will be very valuable to the men in this community, as well. There are frequent accidents. A doctor will be a blessing.”

  “Here you go, ladies.” Mr. Greeley reappeared with two glasses of lemonade.

  Lizzie immediately sampled hers and smiled. It was just right – not too tart. “It’s very good.”

  “Mrs. Greeley will be pleased to know you enjoyed it.”

  “Just put it on our account, please,” Deborah instructed.

  “Oh no, Miss Deborah. This one is on the house. We’re just pleased as can be to have you home. Bet your mama is fairly dancin’ a jig. She’s talked of nothing but your return.”

  Lizzie marveled at the easy manner in which they fell into conversation. There were no formalities, yet there was a certain genteel respect that she found rather comforting.

  “I finally found him,” G. W. declared as he and another man bounded into the commissary. Lizzie looked up just as Rob Vandermark caught sight of her. He grinned from ear to ear and stepped forward in three bold strides to take hold of her hand. Bowing low, he drew her fingers to his lips.

  “Why, if you aren’t the purtiest gal! Hair the color of corn silk and eyes bluer than a summer sky.”

  “This is my brother Rob,” Deborah announced. “He’s the poet in the family.”

  Lizzie nodded, but found herself at a loss for words. Rob seemed more than a little delighted as he turned to face his sister.

  “For once you’ve brought me somethin’ worth my time,” he declared, then looked back at Lizzie and gave her a wink.

  G. W. frowned and Deborah shook her head. “Rob is also the Romeo of the family.”

  “She calls me that all the time,” Rob said, laughing. He tucked his thumbs in his suspenders. “Guess she can’t help it, what with havin’ such a handsome brother. Can’t fault me for lookin’ for my Juliet.”

  Lizzie could scarcely take it all in at once. Rob was rather like a whirlwind compared to G. W.’s soft-spoken, easygoing manner.

  “Rob, this is Miss Elizabeth Decker. Lizzie to her friends.”

  “Miss Lizzie,” he said, turning back to her with a beaming smile. “I certainly hope we will be very good friends.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Deborah found her homecoming bittersweet. The longing for home and family had nearly consumed her in Philadelphia, mixed with an equal measure of regret. Well, maybe not so much regret as concern.

  And yet that wasn’t exactly right, either.

  A fear of things changing – of losing something precious.

  Education had been an escape from the loneliness and isolation she’d known in childhood. It had given her purpose and a sense of being able to help those she loved. But because no one else in her family desired an education, Deborah felt alone.

  Living miles from any real town, Deborah had grown up with only her mother and their cook, Sissy, for female company. Later, she had a girlfriend or two at school, but they never thought or felt the same way she did. Their idea of fun was sharin
g new quilt patterns or parading around, vying for the attention of boys. Deborah wanted to talk about books she’d read or what was going on in the world. Unfortunately, the only ones talking about current events were the men, and they had no interest in discussing the news with the female gender. Truth be told, the men paid her little attention until she blossomed into a teenager, and by then, her heart was far more desirous of learning than loving.

  “Mama!” Deborah cried, jumping from the wagon as G. W. drew it to a stop. She ran the distance to her mother’s open arms. Two big hounds bayed a greeting and dashed across the porch to welcome her.

  “Jasper! Decatur!” Deborah lavished attention on the dogs before turning to her mother. “Where’s Lula?”

  “She’s had another litter of pups.” Her mother motioned her to turn around in a circle. “Oh, just look at you,” her mother whispered. Taking hold of Deborah’s face, she shook her head. “You are even prettier than you were the last time I saw you. I’ll bet you have the tiniest waist in the county.” She gave a quick glance past Deborah. “You boys will have your hands full keeping order with the men who come a-callin’.”

  “Mama, I missed you so much.” Deborah hugged her mother close. It wasn’t a lie. If she could have had her mother with her back East, she would have done so. “So tell me what has changed.”

  Her mother laughed. “I’m older and a little more gray, and the house is a little more worn. Guess we both are.”

  Euphanel Vandermark was not known for her great beauty, although Deborah thought her a pretty woman. She was instead known for her strength, honesty, and integrity. People knew when they made an arrangement with Mrs. Vandermark that she would keep her word.

  Standing several inches shorter than Deborah’s five-foot-six-inch frame, Euphanel Vandermark was a petite but formidable force. Uncle Arjan often teased her about being a hurricane, but Mama took no offense at such a statement. Since their father’s death, Deborah and her brothers had seen their mother triple her efforts at efficiency and productivity, but never at the expense of her beliefs. Her faith in God was her mainstay, and from that foundation, she would never be moved.

  “You don’t look a bit older,” Deborah declared. “Papa used to say you never grew older, just more beautiful.”

  Her mother’s expression softened. “He did say that quite a bit, didn’t he?”

  “And with good reason.” Deborah turned and motioned to Lizzie. “I have someone for you to meet, Mama. I hope you won’t mind, but I’ve brought a friend home with me.” Deborah reached out to Lizzie. “This is Elizabeth Decker. Call her Lizzie. She’s the young woman I roomed with – the one I often wrote you about.” Jasper and Decatur sniffed around the stranger as if to ascertain her acceptability.

  “I would recognize her anywhere,” Mother said. “You are just as beautiful as Deborah described. We’ll be pleased to have your company.”

  “Thank you.” Lizzie exchanged a look with Deborah, then turned back to the older woman. “I hope I might be useful to you.”

  Deborah’s mother laughed heartily. “You are a guest, and you needn’t be anything else. Come along inside. I’m sure you want to freshen up. Deborah, take Lizzie on upstairs. I’ll bring warm water to your room. The boys will carry up your trunks, and later, when you’re ready, I’ll make sure you get a bite to eat.”

  “Mother, we’re hardly invalids. We can join the family for supper.”

  “I know how exhausting that trip can be,” Mother replied. “I wouldn’t want you to feel that you had to sit at the table and share conversation with the rest of us.”

  “There’s plenty of time to wash up and rest a bit before supper,” Deborah assured her. “I’ve been looking forward to sitting down to a family meal; please don’t deny me that privilege.”

  “That makes two of us. No one cooks like you and Sissy,” G. W. said as he passed by with one of Deborah’s trunks hoisted on his shoulder. “What in the world do you have packed in here, little sister? More friends? It weighs a ton.”

  She grinned. “You could say that. It’s full of books.”

  He shook his head. “Most females would be fillin’ their steamers with gowns and pretty doodads, but not my sister. She brings back books.”

  Deborah waited until Rob followed after with two of the suitcases before turning to her mother. “Mama, there’s a heaviness about G. W., and I’m not speaking of the books. From time to time, we managed to get him to smile, but he’s just not his old self.”

  “If you got him to smile at all, I’d say that was a great accomplishment. He’s changed since your father died, and though I’ve tried to talk to him, I think he worries that if he says too much to me, it will only serve to bring me sorrow.”

  Deborah looked to her friend. “We shall do what we can to encourage him, won’t we, Lizzie?”

  The blonde seemed taken by surprise, but nodded. “Of course.”

  –––––––

  After a supper of corn bread, beans with thick pieces of pork, and spicy rice and tomatoes, Deborah settled into a porch rocker alongside her mother. She was glad that Lizzie had chosen to retire early and that the boys were elsewhere discussing business with Uncle Arjan.

  “I hadn’t realized how much I missed your cooking.”

  Mother smiled. “I’m sure you had fancier meals back East.”

  “Maybe fancier – but not better. We certainly had more beef than we eat here. People were absolutely amazed that we should eat so little beef when our state is known for its cattle.”

  “Known for it because we ship them north and east,” Euphanel said with a chuckle. “Still, if they were here to see this place for themselves, they would understand. It’s hard enough to keep other things, much less beef, from spoiling.”

  “That’s what I would tell them. I explained about the large number of wild hogs and how much easier it is to salt and cure, or even smoke pork, than it is with beef.”

  Silence descended and Deborah shifted uneasily in her chair. How was it that she could be so happy to be somewhere, and so miserable at the same time?

  “So you want to tell me what’s wrong?” her mother asked.

  The night air was full of sounds, magnified by the heaviness of the air. “Nothing is wrong,” Deborah replied.

  When her mother didn’t say anything more, Deborah turned. “I suppose I’m worried about G. W. He blames himself for Papa’s death.”

  Mother swatted at a mosquito on her arm. “He does. I’ve talked to that boy until my throat was raw, but he still won’t listen. Arjan says that in time he’ll come to accept that the accident wasn’t his fault. I can only hope he’s right.”

  “Me too.” Deborah glanced at her mother with a grin. “Maybe Lizzie can help him.”

  “Don’t you be matchmakin’ for your brother,” her mother warned. “Nothing good ever comes out of putting your nose in other folks’ business. If the good Lord intends those two to fall for each other, He’ll work out the details.”

  “But if G. W. could strike a match, it would take his mind off of Papa.”

  “Let G. W. determine that matter. The only matches you need to strike are ones for the kerosene lamps.” Her mother’s tone was firm, but not harsh.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Deborah said, reverting to childhood politeness.

  “Now, tell me what else is goin’ on in that head of yours. You seemed mighty preoccupied tonight at supper.”

  “Well, I am tired. The trip is not for the faint of heart, to be certain. I’m also anxious to get started with the bookkeeping and such. I know Uncle Arjan said it’s going to take some time to get things recorded properly. A lot of what I need to put down on paper is registered only in his head.”

  Mother gave a light laugh. “Arjan has a good mind for such things, but I keep sayin’ that if something happens to him, we won’t none of us know what’s going on. I think he’s more relieved than I am to have you take over the office.”

  Deborah looked out across the darkn
ess. Occasionally fireflies winked their light, but otherwise the velvety blackness remained unbroken. “It feels strange – coming home after being gone so long.”

  “You’re no longer a child.” Euphanel gazed at her daughter. “Something happens to us when we cross that threshold to womanhood.”

  Deborah considered that a moment. “Everything seems different, and yet nothing has changed.”

  “You’ve changed.”

  She startled at her mother’s words. “I’m still the same old Deborah.”

  Her mother shook her head. “Hardly that. You are a woman now. While many would have called you one before, there can be no doubt about it now. You have tasted the world and its delights – traveled to see so many exciting things. You walked beyond your own gate, as my mother would say. It opens your heart and mind to so much that you didn’t know before.”

  “I suppose so,” Deborah admitted.

  “It was what made life so difficult for me when I first came to Texas as a young bride,” her mother continued. “I had walked beyond my gate, and I knew what the world could offer. Your father brought me here in 1858. His dreams fueled his desire for a new life here, but my dreams were wrapped up in him. Texas seemed a terrible desolation to me – at least until your grandma and grandpa came west during the war. I kept thinking of all that I’d known in Georgia. Now you will think of all that you knew back East.”

  Deborah shrugged. “But while I was back East, all I could think about was Texas. I honestly missed my family and home. But . . .”

  “But?”

  She heaved a heavy sigh and looked at her mother. “I almost feel like a stranger in returning. Does that sound odd to you?”

  “Not at all. I remember when I accompanied my parents back to Georgia just before my grandmother passed on. Let me think now . . . you were just a little girl of eight – maybe nine.”

  “I was nine and heartbroken that you left me to accompany them,” Deborah said. “I was afraid you might never return.”