Chapter Fifteen
They reached the outskirts of Orting in good time, but not fast enough to suit Jeremiah’s dark mood. He had thought Leigh a sensible young woman, but she had spent the majority of the journey throwing herself at Jefferson—a sight all too common when Jeremiah’s handsome childhood playmate appeared on the scene. In watching Leigh smile, ogle and flirt with Jefferson, it occurred to Jeremiah that he did not know her very well at all, did he?
“I will leave you here and ride on to Samuel’s office,” Jefferson had said upon reaching Washington Avenue, Orting’s main thoroughfare. The wide road was dusty that morning, though it had rained only two days before on the summer solstice—the night Leigh had appeared.
“What time shall we meet for lunch?” Jefferson asked.
Jeremiah saw Leigh turn to him for a response. He slowed the buggy and consulted his watch. “Noon?”
“Noon it is,” Jefferson agreed. “I will see you at Henker’s Café.”
“See you!” Leigh called out with a wave as Jefferson trotted off in the direction of the false-fronted buildings that housed Attorney Samuel Kent’s office.
Traffic on the road was fairly light that morning, and Jeremiah easily maneuvered the buggy to a halt in front of the post office—a small building nestled between other shops. Jacob Henker, whose uncle ran the café, was the postmaster. Jeremiah had a very slight acquaintance with Jacob and his wife, Sophia, the children of German immigrants, and he hoped he could convince them to tell them of Nancy Reid’s whereabouts.
“I will just go in and make inquiries,” he said.
Leigh, seemingly riveted by the town that was not much larger than Kaskade, stood as if to climb down from the buggy.
“Would you rather not wait out here?”
“No! I want to go in! It’s fascinating to see Orting in its heyday. It’s actually bigger than in my time. I mean...there are more housing developments in 2018, but the downtown area is actually much smaller. Will you look at this?”
“Then Orting declines?” Jeremiah asked.
“I guess so. It’s just a sleepy little town with a couple of stores, cafés and coffee shops. Is that the train depot?” She twisted on the bench to look over shoulder. “Oh, that’s not even operational in my time.”
“It is hard to imagine that Orting, which has grown by leaps and bounds due to the hops industry and coal mining, will reverse course. But you have said that you live there, that there are what you call ‘housing developments’?”
Leigh nodded. “It’s a bedroom community.”
“I do not understand that reference. What is this about bedrooms?”
“A bedroom community is an area where people live and sleep, but they normally commute to work in some other city. In this case, I think most of the people in Orting proper work in nearby Puyallup, Tacoma and cities north, like Seattle. There are a few farms still left around there.”
“And they travel back and forth every day?”
“Every day. Some spend hours in the cars or on the commuter train. I tried it for about two minutes, but then found my work-at-home job.”
“I cannot imagine,” Jeremiah said. “Let me help you down.” He climbed down from the buggy and tied up the horse before helping Leigh descend. She was awkward in her skirts and a bit tomboyish as she jumped down, but her movements enhanced her appeal. They did not detract in the slightest. He was finding Leigh to be quite an original.
He held out his arm, and she hesitated before slipping her hand around his arm. He led her up the wooden steps to the boardwalk, and they entered the post office.
Sophia Henker, a diminutive dark-haired woman in a plain but practical gray dress, greeted them from behind a well-varnished wooden counter.
“Good morning,” she said. “It’s Dr. Cook from Kaskade, isn’t it?”
“Yes, I am,” he said. “How kind of you to remember me. We’ve only met once or twice, I believe.”
“I remember names and faces. How can I help you?”
On the point of speaking, Jeremiah hesitated as the door behind them opened. Given the nature of his query, he wished for confidentiality, and he turned to see that it was Jacob Henker.
“Hello, Mr. Henker,” Jeremiah said with relief.
“Morning.” Jacob, as tall as his wife was small, sported a large reddish mustache that matched his busy eyebrows and thick hair. He pulled at his suspenders to hitch up his trousers before removing his dark felt derby.
“Are you sending out a letter?” he asked, pushing through the waist-high swinging gate to join his wife behind the counter.
“No, actually, we have an inquiry with which I hoped you might help us.”
“Jacob, this is Dr. Cook from Kaskade,” Sophia said.
“Oh, that’s right. I thought I recognized you.” Jacob turned his eyes on Leigh, and Jeremiah knew he had to introduce them. Those few in Kaskade who knew about the town’s mysterious arrivals and departures were protective of their charges, for that was how they were viewed. Stranded souls who wanted nothing more than to return to their homes, with a few notable exceptions. Their plight pulled at heartstrings. Tanya had never truly come to love Kaskade. She had indeed been a stranded soul.
Jeremiah shook away the memory and introduced Leigh as best he could.
“This is Mrs. Leigh Peters, a recent arrival to Kaskade. Mrs. Peters and I are in search of a Mrs. Nancy Reid and her daughter, Rosanna. Mrs. Reid’s father, Harry Johnson, is quite ill in Kaskade, and he has asked to speak with Mrs. Reid. He did not know their address but knew they lived in Orting. Do you think you could possibly direct us to their location so that we may speak with them?”
Sophia opened her mouth to speak, but Jacob’s words silenced her.
“Harry Johnson?” he repeated in an incredulous tone. “Not the Harry Johnson.”
Jeremiah blinked. “I am not sure to whom you refer. It is a common name. Mr. Johnson lives in Kaskade and has ever since I’ve known him. He used to work at the timber mill before he fell ill.”
Jeremiah did not care to explain that Harry had fallen ill to alcoholism and had not worked in many years, subsisting off charity and odd jobs. He had not had the heart to tell Leigh of Harry’s impoverished status, but the sight of his dilapidated shack had probably told her all she needed to know about him.
“Yes, that’s the one,” Jacob said.
His wife stared at him in surprise.
“Well then, might we inquire as to his family’s address so we could visit them?”
“They don’t want anything to do with him,” Jacob stated flatly. He tugged at his large mustache with some agitation.
“I have heard that,” Jeremiah said in surprise. He felt Leigh’s hand tighten on his arm. “Nevertheless, if we could make our own inquiries?”
Jacob shook his head. “No, I can’t tell you where they live. He was nothing but trouble to his wife, Mrs. Moore.”
“It’s Mrs. Johnson,” Leigh interrupted. “Moore was her maiden name.”
Jacob looked at her in surprise.
“I know that, but she dropped his name and took her own back.”
“How do you know all that?” Leigh demanded. “You seem to know a lot about the family!” The color in her cheeks was high, and the white speckles in her blue eyes sparkled angrily.
“Probably a lot more than you do, miss!” Jacob said. “They’ve been our next-door neighbors ever since they were little. Nancy and I walked to school together.”
“Well, good!” Leigh spat, taking over the conversation. “Then where do you live? That should solve this problem.”
“Can’t tell you that!” Jacob said, his chin hardening like a mule. He crossed his arms over his chest.
Sophia’s face revealed her distress.
“They’re my family!” Leigh cried out. “Mine! Not yours. I appreciate that you are friends with the family, but this is my family.”
Jacob blinked and dropped his arms. “How? Who are you related to?”
Jeremiah thought a warning was in order. “Leigh,” he cautioned.
She threw an angry look his way, the same look she had favored him with in the buggy when he had taken a disliking to his old friend Jefferson.
“I’m related to all of them. I’m a cousin. So if you don’t mind, my grand—” She paused. “My cousin Harry is sick, he may die, and he would like to see his daughter and granddaughter. It’s up to them to decide, not you!”
Jacob folded his arms again and stared at Leigh. “I can’t give out that information,” he said.
Jeremiah patted Leigh’s hand. “Come, Leigh. We will see what Jefferson is able to discover. Thank you, Jacob, Sophia. Good day.”
Jeremiah half pulled Leigh from the post office. They reached the boardwalk, and she exploded into a tirade of fairly colorful language directed at interfering busybodies.
Jeremiah, noticing the stares of passersby, guided Leigh down the steps and across the street toward the offices of Samuel Kent.
“Take care with your skirts. There is horse dung in the road.”
“I don’t care about horse poop!” she retorted. “What I care about are people who butt into other people’s business!”
“I understand that you are upset, Leigh, but cursing in public will only attract undue attention.”
“I know,” she fumed. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it.”
They reached the boardwalk on the opposite side of the street, and Jeremiah led her toward a two-story wooden office building.
“Dr. Cook!” a voice called from behind them.
They paused and turned around to see Sophia running across the streets, one hand clutching her skirts, the other pressed against her chest.
“Wait, please,” she exclaimed as she reached their side of the road. She hurried up to them, glancing quickly over her shoulder toward the post office.
“I am so sorry about Jacob,” she said, directing her comments to Leigh. “I disagreed with him and told him so. That was not his place. The truth is that Jacob’s father, Hans, was widowed when Jacob was only three. Hans wanted to marry Mary Anne Moore—or Johnson—but she never agreed to divorce Harry. Hans blamed Harry, but it was truly Mary Anne’s decision to stay married. She did give up her married name though when they moved to Orting, though she let Nancy keep the name of Johnson.”
Jeremiah looked at Leigh, who seemed a little stunned by the information Sophia had just shared.
“Will you tell us where they live?” Jeremiah asked.
“Yes, of course, and I told Jacob I would say so. This is your family, not ours to meddle in. We live just up the road to the north in a small farmhouse on the left. Jacob’s brothers tend to the farm while we work in the post office. Nancy lives on the farm just north of us. Our properties are very close. Rosanna and her husband, William Ferguson, live with her. They lease out the land to us, as William works as a carpenter.”
“Just up the road? How far would you say?”
“About four miles. Our house is large and white. Nancy’s house is smaller and more of a tan color. You can’t miss it. On the left hand side, set back from the road a bit.”
“Thank you, Sophia!” Leigh finally said, taking the older woman’s hands in hers. “Thank you!”
Sophia’s tight lips loosened into a slight smile. “You are welcome. I wish you the best with your cousins. Hopefully, they are ready to reconcile. Perhaps you will be the tie that brings them all together. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”
“It would,” Leigh said with a bright smile.
Out of the corner of his eye, Jeremiah saw Jefferson emerging from the office building. He spotted Jeremiah and headed in their direction.
“I must return to the post office,” Sophia said. “Goodbye! I hope to see you again.”
“You too, Sophia!” Leigh called out as Sophia hurried back across the street.
Jeremiah had no time to thank Sophia before she vanished, and Jefferson arrived at their side. Leigh whirled around to greet him.
“We got the information! Nancy and Rosanna live up the road about four miles!” She turned to Jeremiah. “Can we go directly there? Eat lunch later? It’s still early!”
“Of course,” he said.
“I discovered the very same information,” Jefferson said enthusiastically. “Samuel knows the family and knew where they lived. He handled Mary Anne Johnson’s estate, though it seems that she went by her maiden name.”
“We heard that,” Leigh said. “We’re going up there now. Fingers crossed that they agree to speak to us, much less go down to Kaskade to visit with Harry.”
“I would like to accompany you, if possible,” Jefferson said. “My business was concluded quite expeditiously, and I am at loose ends until we meet for lunch.”
“I do not think—” Jeremiah began.
“Sure!” Leigh said. “Maybe we could use a good attorney. A doctor, a lawyer, and a great-granddaughter walk into a bar.” Leigh laughed. “Let’s go!”
She seemed happy to the point of giddiness, and Jeremiah watched her in amusement and apprehension. He feared that her happiness might soon turn to sorrow should her great-grandmothers reject Harry, and by extension, her as Harry’s representative. He had no doubt they would love her had they known that she was their great-granddaughter, but they could not know that information.
He was not happy to see Jefferson heading off to gather up his horse, but he had no reasonable objection, certainly not if Leigh desired Jefferson’s presence.
Jeremiah escorted Leigh across the street and helped her into the buggy before picking up the reins and maneuvering the buggy back onto the street. Traffic had thickened, and he concentrated on wending his way through wagons, pedestrians and solitary riders to move north. Jefferson rode up alongside them, positioning himself near Leigh.
Traffic thinned out as they left Orting proper and meandered up the road through fields of hops and bulb farms.
“You must come up here next spring when the bulbs are in bloom,” Jeremiah said. “Tulips and daffodils abound. It is a wondrous sight.”
“Really?” Leigh asked, scanning the quiet fields on either side of the road. “That must be beautiful!”
“It is,” Jeremiah responded. He had almost refrained from saying anything about the bulb farms, but remembered that Leigh would still be in his time during the following spring. She could not return to the twenty-first century until summer solstice in June. To his surprise, he was pleased at the notion.
“I’m nervous,” she said in a low voice, as if she didn’t wish Jefferson to hear. “I’m nervous about meeting them. I’m afraid they’ll reject me, and that can never be undone. My great-grandmothers would have rejected me.”
Jeremiah reached over to pat her hands, clasped in her lap.
“Do not imagine the worst, Leigh,” he said gently. “Hope for the best, and be prepared for disappointment, but do not imagine what has not happened. It may never happen, yet your mind will believe that it has, for you spent time imaging this rejection, mourning it. Your great-grandmothers may embrace you. Do you intend to pass along this story of being a cousin? Would they believe you?”
“I don’t know. I doubt it. I’d have to remember who Mary Anne Moore was related to, or more likely who Harry was related to—if he had brothers or sisters. I’m sure he did, but I can’t remember any names.”
“Perhaps you could make an obscure reference?”
“I could try. Or we could just use your doctor-ness and say that you think Harry needs to see them...for his well-being and all. Which is the truth, right?”
“What scheme are you two hatching over there?” Jefferson asked.
“We’re trying to figure out what to say once we reach Nancy’s house, whether I should say I’m a cousin—which is what I accidentally blurted out at the post office—or whether Dr. Cook here should just say that Harry’s health would be improved if his family would come see him.”
Jefferson nodded. “So you are a cousin now?”
Leigh related what happened in the post office.
“I had no idea Harry had such a history. Nor did I realize what an attractive descendant he would produce.”
Jeremiah pursed his lips at the outlandish compliment. But then again, Jefferson had always had an easy way with words that Jeremiah did not. Tanya had once said that Jeremiah was a very serious man. At the time, he had taken it as a compliment, but on hindsight had determined that she meant it as some sort of constructive criticism.
“Oh, Jefferson!” Leigh laughed. “That’s a bit much, but thank you!”
Jeremiah knew a moment of satisfaction. Yes, it had been a bit much, and he was pleased that Leigh had recognized the effusiveness of the compliment.
Jefferson, in his good-natured way, took no offense but laughed. The more lighthearted of the Lundrum siblings, he’d had no difficulties in attracting the fairer sex. Martha, on the other hand, was as “serious” as Jeremiah. Tanya had commented upon that as well.
It had been both the Lundrums’ and his father’s hope that Martha and Jeremiah should choose each other as mates, but that had not happened. Martha was a dear, sweet woman, and as beautiful as the first snow in winter, but Jeremiah thought of her only with profound respect and affection. She did not elicit in him the racing heart that Leigh did or the jealousy that Jefferson instigated.
Jeremiah drew in a sharp breath.
“What’s wrong?” Leigh asked. “Is something wrong?”
“No, nothing,” he responded, keeping his eyes on the road.
“Okay,” she said and turned to respond to something Jefferson had said, no doubt another extravagant compliment.
Jeremiah would have been a fool not to recognize that he was fascinated by women of the twenty-first century. Katherine had intrigued him, as did her fairly scandalous former profession, so divergent from her elegant bearing. Tanya had stolen his heart but returned it as a dated historical artifact. Leigh had— He stole a look at her out of the corner of his eye—chatting easily with Jefferson.
Leigh had hypnotized him, bewitched him, if one believed in such things. He wanted nothing more than to please her and to care for her. He dreaded the day she would return to the future, but she had left him in no doubt that she would.
She had overcome much in her life, had in fact soldiered on through her distrust and fear of medicine to care for her great-grandfather. Adversity had given her great strength that she appeared not to recognize. He admired that about her. Her outspokenness delighted him. Her colorful vocabulary shocked him in the most amusing way. Her beautiful dark-copper hair and white-speckled blue eyes entranced him, and he thought he could stare at her forever.
Was she attracted to Jefferson? Enough to stay? Jefferson looked very pleased with himself. Jeremiah wondered if Leigh’s husband, Sam, had been fair haired like Jefferson.
The large white farmhouse came into view, and beyond, Jeremiah saw the smaller tan house belonging to Nancy Reid and her family.
“There is the house,” Jeremiah pointed out.
“Oh!” Leigh exclaimed. “So soon?”
“I thought you were in a hurry to get here,” Jeremiah said.
“I was, but now we’re here, and I’m not.”
Jeremiah could not help but smile at the perversity of the statement. Yet he understood her elation and apprehension.
They reached the turnoff leading to the tan house, and Jeremiah turned the buggy into the lane. Jefferson followed, and they soon came to a stop in front of the house.
A woman with faded copper-colored hair came out onto the porch, shading her eyes with her hands. Jeremiah looked from her to Leigh. The hair was the same.