Home to Walnut Ridge (12 page)

“
By ‘sweethearts’ are you
referring to the stuff you buy at these sales?”

Without taking her eyes
off the road, Alex batted at her. “Bite your tongue, Tracey Jolene
Collins! I’ll have you know I do not buy
stuff
. I take in
orphans
. They may be battered and
abused and showing a lot of wear and tear, but that’s just because
they need a little TLC.”

Tracey smiled. “I’ve got to hand it to
you. You’ve put your heart and soul into this, haven’t
you?”

Alex laughed heartily. “You have no
idea. I’ve never had so much fun in all my life. It’s positively
addicting. I bring home these pitiful little souls, clean them up,
pamper them, give them a fresh coat of paint, and just love on ‘em.
I can’t wait to show you how much fun it is.”

Tracey grew silent,
contemplating her sister’s burst of enthusiasm. Alex pinched her
arm. “Ouch! Why’d you
do
that!”

“
You got so quiet. What
are you thinking? Did I say something wrong?”

Tracey rubbed her arm. “Geez, Alex,
that hurt.” For as long as she could remember, Alex had always
pinched her to get her attention. It was a wonder she could ever go
sleeveless after a lifetime of such abuse.

“
Spit it out.”

Tracey rolled her eyes.
“Fine. It just occurred to me that the way you were describing the
furniture you find at these sales as your ‘sweethearts’ is exactly
how you used to talk about your students. And that made me wonder
again what happened. You
loved
teaching. It was your passion. How could you let
Deacon and the School Board let you go?”

Alex stared straight ahead. “First
off, they didn’t let me go. They fired me.”

“
But why? What did they
accuse you of doing?”

“
They accused me of
proselytizing my kids. Which, of course, I did. They had warned me
repeatedly; someone called the ACLU, and when I refused to stop,
they axed me. End of story.”

“
So what exactly were you
doing? How were you proselytizing?”

“
Oh, the same thing I’ve
always done. I started my class each day with prayer. I read them
Bible stories every morning. I taught them about the
real
meaning of Easter,
and I let them dress up and act out the story of the Nativity.
Y’know‌—‌the usual hardcore proselytizing.”

Tracey snickered. “Yeah, hardcore. I’m
sure you ruined them for life.”

“
Likewise, I refused to
spend a full week guilting them for ‘ruining the planet’ during
Earth Week, opting instead to let them explore the wonders of
nature and God’s miraculous creation. That one got the tree huggers
all hot and bothered.”

“
You have students who are
tree huggers?”

“
No, silly, their parents.
Actually, it only takes one. They freak out when they hear little
Susie might learn something truly horrific
like . . . like how God made the woodpecker’s tongue
so long, it wraps around its skull when not in use. Better I should
teach her how cow flatulation is destroying the ozone.”

Tracey laughed. “And who doesn’t love
a good cow flatulation story now and then?”

“
Exactly! So someone
called the ACLU. The ACLU called Deacon, who got his boxers all in
a wad over it. Demanded I comply with public school dictates on the
subject, and then voila‌—‌pink slip.”

Tracey adjusted her
seatbelt so she could turn and face her sister. “But that’s what I
don’t understand. You’ve
never
let them railroad you like that before. Why
didn’t you fight it?”

Alex made a sharp left turn onto a
country road, bouncing them hard. “Ah, there it is just up
ahead.”

“
C’mon, Alex. Answer me.
Why didn’t you fight them?”

She slowed the truck to a
stop on the side of the road and shifted into park. “Because,
little sister, they have the law on their side. Of course I knew
what I was doing was against school policy. I’d always known it
would happen someday, but in my heart of hearts, I just wanted my
kids to know Jesus loves them. And I couldn’t
not
tell them, if that makes
sense.”

Tracey reached out and gently squeezed
her sister’s arm. “I’m so sorry, Alex. They’ve lost the best
teacher they ever had.”

Alex patted her hand. “Well, somehow I
doubt that, but I appreciate you saying it. But enough of that. We
have babies waiting for us!”

An hour later, they loaded the last of
their treasures into the back of the pickup and headed home. There,
Alex and Tracey unloaded their purchases into the back part of the
old barn at Walnut Ridge.

“
So this is where you
work,” Tracey said, looking around the cluttered room. “Oh, Alex!
All these pieces‌—‌I had no idea! No wonder you need a showroom for
them.”

Alex set a side table in the corner
with some other unfinished pieces. “I told you it’s a bit of an
addiction on my part. Though, I prefer to think of it as my
ministry. Check this one out,” she said, moving a rocker out of the
way to get to an usual table against the wall.

“
Wait, how come there are
only three legs?”

“
I’m guessing it had four
originally, and who knows why the other leg is M.I.A. I’m thinking
about using it as a display table in the shop, so we’d just bolt it
to the wall to make it stable. But look at the scroll work on these
legs! It will be stunning by the time I get done with it.” She
looked up at Tracey with a smile. “When
we
get done with it.”

“
I don’t know, Sis. I
think you may be giving me too much credit too soon. I don’t know
the first thing about all this.”

“
Not a problem. You’ll
pick it up as we go along. Oh, and look at this hall tree I found
at a garage sale.”

“
Hey, what is this?”
Tracey picked up a wooden box the size of a cigar box. “This is
beautiful.”

“
You like that? You should
have seen it before. Hold on, I keep before and after pictures.”
She crossed the room and opened the top drawer of an old refinished
filing cabinet. She fingered across the top of several folders.
“Ah, here it is. See how scuffed up it was?” she said, pointing to
a photo.

“
Did you fix all that or
just paint over it?”

Alex glanced at her over
her glasses. “That’s why I use a milk paint called
Miss Mustard Seed.
You
don’t have to prime, you don’t have to sand, you just clean it then
paint. Then, like I told you before, the paint just does its thing.
It flakes off into what I call ‘chippy goodness’‌—‌sometimes a lot,
sometimes just a little. Then after it dries, you can use your
fingers to help remove as much flaking as you like and let some of
the original finish show through. I love it because each piece is
truly unique.”

“
And that’s all there is
to it?”

“
That’s it, except for the
top coat. I use either furniture wax or hemp oil to seal it. Gives
it a really rich but soft look. Now, open it and look inside,” she
said, opening the lid. “I found these vintage postcards at an
estate sale and thought they were the perfect contrast to the black
finish. So I Mod Podged them, and‍—‍”

“
What is
Modge‍—‍”

“
Mod Podge. It’s a creamy
white liquid that seals whatever you’re working on then dries
clear. It’s like a watery Elmer’s glue that spreads really well.
Comes in different kinds of finishes. I used a matte finish on this
one.”

“
Kind of like we used to
decoupage when we were kids?”

“
Smart girl!”

In the bottom of the box, three long
black velvet trays, each slit down the middle lengthwise, were
nestled side by side. Tracey rubbed her fingers along them.
“Where’d you get these ring displays? I could keep all my rings in
this.”

“
Yard sales. You can’t
believe what you can find.” Alex closed the lid and placed Tracey’s
hand over it. “It’s yours.”

“
Really?”

“
Yes, really. Tracey, meet
Olivia. Olivia, meet Tracey.”

“
You
named
it?”

Alex rearranged some of the other
pieces in the room. “I name all of them. I told you, Trace,” she
said, looking over her shoulder, “they’re my children.” She danced
her brows and pinned a wide smile on her face.

Tracey clutched the beautiful ebony
box to her chest and looked around. “Y’know, I think I’m gonna love
this.”

“
Told you it’s contagious.
Now let me introduce you to the rest of my babies.”

Chapter 10

Sadie Woolsey took a seat at the table
where Buddy held out her chair. “What a treat to be invited for
dinner tonight. I’m honored!”

Alex placed the salad bowl
on the table then sat down. “It was Tracey’s idea. We decided to
wait to tell Dad and Noah what you told us about the cup and saucer
this morning. Then she suggested we let
you
tell them since you’re the one
who knows the story so well.”

“
Oh, it would be my
pleasure,” she said, her face aglow with anticipation.

“
But first, let’s have a
word of prayer,” Buddy said, encouraging them to hold hands around
the table. He offered a brief thanks to the Lord before they began
passing the dishes.

Noah laughed as he forked a piece of
roast. “I can’t wait another minute, Miss Woolsey‌—‌please, tell us
your news.”

“
Noah, you must call me
Sadie. I insist. But as for the news, let me begin at the
beginning. When I saw the cup and saucer the girls brought over
this morning, then learned it was from the Lincoln White House,
why‌—‌I was astonished! Then they showed me the note they found
signed with the initials CJC. And something starting fussing at the
back of my mind. Then all of a sudden, I knew!”

Buddy set his fork on his plate. “The
suspense is killing me, Sadie. Out with it!”

“
Ah, but you must hear the
story first.” She slowly took a sip of her hot tea then set the cup
back on its saucer. “You see, back in the time when Lincoln became
president, the protocol was for the president’s family to furnish
the White House. Meaning, they supplied their own beds, tables,
dinnerware, that sort of thing. The White House had very few
possessions of its own because at that time, it was considered a
public building. So people came and went all the time. Of course,
this was long before they had any security measures like they do
now. It is told that folks could be found wandering through the
house any time of the day or night. Can you imagine?

“
So when a president left
office, oftentimes the public would just help themselves to
whatever they left behind. It’s told they’d even tear wallpaper
from the walls and rip up pieces of carpet for
souvenirs.”

“
Basically, they
vandalized the White House?” Noah asked.

“
That’s precisely what
they did. And that’s why in 1861 when Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln moved
in, they found the house in complete disrepair. As you might
imagine, Mary Todd Lincoln found this quite unacceptable. And among
the improvements she took upon herself to oversee was to replace
the fine china, silver, and glassware. The cup and saucer the girls
showed me were indeed the same pattern she chose while on a
shopping spree to New York.

“
The original design she
found had a blue band around it. Preferring the more popular color
known as
solferino
‌—‌a bright purplish-reddish shade similar to burgundy‌—‌she
requested the change and placed her order which was produced by
Haviland & Company in Limoges, France. Originally there were
666 pieces of this pattern which, by the way, was the first set of
china used for state dinners chosen by a president’s
wife.”

“
Now, tell them how the
cup and saucer ended up here at Walnut Ridge,” Tracey
urged.

“
Trace, let her eat!” Alex
said. “She’s hardly had a bite. Go on, Miss Sadie. Eat your dinner
before it gets cold.”

The librarian thanked her and took
three tiny bites of the roasted vegetables. “Oh, this is simply
delicious.”

Buddy took a sip of his tea. “Am I
right in remembering that Mary Todd Lincoln was a difficult person
to get along with?”

“
I always heard she
suffered from mental illness and headaches,” Noah added.

“
That was her reputation,
I’m afraid,” Alex said. “She suffered from terrible migraines, even
worse after a carriage accident. I also think her severe depression
was responsible for much of her behavior. But who could blame her
after losing two of her children?”

“
Okay, back to the cup and
saucer and the note,” Buddy said. “Whose initials are
those?”

Tracey smiled. Her dad was a
cut-to-the-chase guy who grew restless with long, drawn-out tales
such as Sadie’s. “Dad, be patient. She’s getting there.”

“
Yes, well, where was I?”
Sadie asked, gazing up at the ceiling. “Oh yes. Those initials.
This is where the story gets truly interesting. As you know, Buddy,
your father’s family has lived here at Walnut Ridge since the
plantation was first built in the early 1800s by Jacob Elias
Collins. And, as you know, the town and its mill were named for
him. I should be able to tell you how many great-great-greats he
was from you, but I’m drawing a blank at the moment. Now, Jacob had
a son named Eli Andrew Collins. Of course there were many other
siblings, but for our interests tonight, I’ll just stick to Jacob’s
descendants. When Eli married Celeste Parsons, their first born was
a son they named Craig Jacob Collins‍—‍”