Stephanie Grace Whitson - [Quilt Chronicles] (17 page)

It took some effort for Ellen to keep her mouth from dropping open when Miss Dawson appeared at her front door, parasol in hand. The woman Ellen thought “plain” had transformed herself into a fashion plate with an elegant updo. The hat on her head was in the latest style and a perfect complement to the beautifully tailored, pin-striped walking suit, obviously cut from very fine cloth. “My goodness, Miss Dawson, I feel positively dowdy next to you.”

Miss Dawson blushed at the compliment. “The benefit of having a sister who owns a dressmaking establishment. Minnie rules my ‘town wardrobe.’”

Ellen motioned her inside. “I always admire the
Manerva
display windows in Lincoln. She does have a way with color.”

Miss Dawson chuckled. “She does. And the fact that I insisted on dark blue for this ensemble caused no small amount of friction between us.” She smoothed her skirt with a gloved hand. “Minnie insisted that claret was just the thing. I told her I didn’t want to look like a bottle of wine walking down O Street.”

Ellen giggled. “Not to slight your sister, but the blue does bring out your eyes.” She led the way into the parlor where a silver tea service awaited alongside a tiered tray boasting an array of elegant pastries. While Miss Dawson settled on the upholstered settee, Ellen began to pour tea. “Do you miss living in town?”

Miss Dawson shook her head. “Minnie was always the popular one. I’ve no patience for small talk and tea and—” She broke off. “What I meant to say was, a prison matron isn’t exactly at the top of the guest list for social events.”

Ellen settled back, teacup in hand. She didn’t have much patience with small talk, either, but here she was engaging in it—albeit with a purpose in mind. “How long have you been matron?”

“Since the female department opened.”

“Did you have experience with… this kind of work?”

“Goodness, no.” Miss Dawson laughed. “I thought God was calling me to missionary service.” She paused. “Sometimes I think my position is proof of a certain verse in the Bible.”

“The one about going forth and making disciples?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of ‘He who sits in the heavens laughs.’”

Ellen nearly choked on the bit of pastry in her mouth and suddenly, she and Miss Dawson were laughing together. “I know what you mean about feeling like you’re the object of a celestial joke. When I was a girl dreaming about the future, I knew three things for certain.” She counted off on her fingers. “I was never marrying a Yankee, never leaving Kentucky, and never moving to a farm. The next thing I knew I’d married a Yankee and moved to a farm in Missouri.”

Miss Dawson grinned. “When Minnie and I were young, we were going to marry brothers and have at least six children each. And here we are. The closest Minnie has gotten to having children is the volunteer work she does at the Home for the Friendless. As for me, well, I mind adults who never learned to play well with others.” She shook her head. “Sometimes I tell myself I’m not doing one bit of good.”

“And yet you stay.”

“Once in a while, I get a glimpse of something in one of them…. I can’t even explain it. I just know this is where I’m supposed to be, at least for now.”

Ellen nodded. “I think I know what you mean about that glimpse of something.” She took a sip of tea. “I don’t mind telling you that, even though I suggested it, I was frightened when Vestal and Jane came through my door. But then, something changed. Vestal became just another woman desperate to have a healthy child. When Jane saw my quilts upstairs and said she missed making beautiful things, I realized I’d never thought about the inmates as
women.
All these weeks I’ve lived right across the road, and I just didn’t think—” She shrugged.

“You just didn’t think… what?”

“Well, that’s it. I just didn’t think.” She paused. “Now it seems I can’t
stop
thinking. Especially about Vestal and Jane.” She set her cup and saucer down, folded her hands in her lap, and leaned forward. “Tell me what I can do to help.”

Miss Dawson set her cup and saucer down as well. “I’ll have a much better idea about that after I’ve been in Lincoln this weekend. I’ve an entire list of things needed to implement the programs the warden’s approved. Minnie’s very active in several benevolent societies in town. She’s provided a list of contacts, and I’ll be making calls this afternoon. She’s even said I might ask to say a few words at one of the churches tomorrow morning, although the idea of standing in front of a congregation makes me shudder. I’ll probably leave that to Minnie for another Sunday.”

Ellen spoke before she could change her mind. “I’m an example of someone who’s had her mind changed for her. What if I came with you?” She paused. “If you think it would help, that is. I don’t mean to—” She shrugged. “I’m not all that fond of small talk, myself, most of the time.”

Miss Dawson’s smile seemed genuine. “You wouldn’t have to say a word. Just your presence would suggest the warden’s endorsement. It might really help… and I’d love having the company.”

“Then it’s settled. I’ll have Jack hitch up my little mare—as long as you don’t mind having a chauffeur?”

“Not at all,” Miss Dawson said. “You can leave me in town, and when Minnie drives in tomorrow evening, I’ll use her rig to return to my apartment out here.”

“But then Minnie won’t have her transportation in town.”

Miss Dawson smiled. “I’ll work it out with one of the guards to drive it back in when the shift changes. It’s no problem, really.”

“And so,” Ellen said, “two women who don’t particularly care for making small talk are about to spend an afternoon doing just that.”

Miss Dawson raised a gloved hand and extended a forefinger. “But it’s small talk with a purpose.”

Ellen mimed meeting someone new. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Who sits. How
do
you get those peonies to bloom so profusely? Do you happen to have an extra pack of number ten needles?”

Mamie joined in. “Minnie tells me you are one of her most faithful customers. She only wishes more of her regulars had your exquisite taste. Now, we could send someone out tomorrow afternoon to get that sewing machine out of your way—you never use it, do you?”

Laughing, Ellen headed for the stairs. “Help yourself to another pastry or a cup of tea or both. I’ll have Jack hitch up the rig and be ready in no time.”

L
ate Saturday night as Ellen turned the little roan mare named Jenny into a stall at home, she could have sworn the mare sighed with relief. “You rest easy, girl,” she murmured, as she pulled the stall door closed. “Jack’ll be right out and give you a nice helping of oats and some fresh water.” The mare shook her head and snorted, then dropped her head and began to snuffle the fresh straw.

Making her way from the barn toward the house, Ellen paused on the back porch steps to look up at the night sky. She was tired, but it had been a wonderful day. Who would have thought the potential for friendship lay right across the road? She and Mamie had ended up having fun begging donations. They’d laughed themselves silly more than once after retreating from someone’s front door to the buggy, and Ellen had almost accepted Mamie’s offer to stay in town when it got later than they expected. As if they were girls.

“Jack and I were about to send out the troops.”

Ellen turned to see Ian silhouetted in the kitchen doorway, Jack’s mop of red hair showing just past his father’s shoulder.

“I promised the horse Jack would bring her a treat,” Ellen said. “But first, tell me about the fishing.”

Jack ducked past Ian. “A two-pounder,” he said. “We had him for supper.” He rubbed his stomach. “And it was good.” Planting a kiss on Ellen’s cheek, he slipped past her to see to Jenny.

Ellen crossed the porch and stepped into Ian’s outstretched arms. He kissed her on the top of the head. “Good to have you home. Nothing’s right when you aren’t here, you know.” He untied the ribbons that fastened the neckline of her cape, then waited for her to hand him her gloves and bonnet, and followed her inside. “Georgia’s turned in, and I hate to inform you there is not one crumb of pie left. I hope you weren’t expecting a piece.”

Ellen chuckled and led the way through the kitchen and up the hall toward the front of the house. “With the two of you unsupervised for an entire evening? I wouldn’t be surprised if what Georgia had planned for Sabbath-day breakfast had already been consumed.”

Ian hung her cape and bonnet on the hall tree by the front door, depositing her gloves on the silver tray. Following her into the parlor, he settled in his chair and asked, “Dare I ask how the day went?”

“We met with some resistance and some success. In spite of her horror of speaking in public, Mamie is going to accept an invitation to present her project to the ladies at First Presbyterian in the morning. Apparently the church has a very active Ladies Aid Society and is quite missionary-minded. The pastor’s wife, Mrs. Irwin, invited her to speak.” She lowered her voice. “Apparently Mrs. Irwin’s brother is incarcerated out West somewhere. He doesn’t communicate at all. Mrs. Irwin said she’d help us. In fact, she invited us in. She looked at Mamie’s list and said she knew where we could get a nice sewing machine for very little money. She wants to donate funds for the purchase.”

“Sounds like the day went well, to put it mildly.”

“Oh, there’s more.” But just then Jack came in and wanted to talk fishing, and so for the better portion of the next hour, Ellen set aside her own day and reveled in her son’s. When the men resumed their ongoing chess game, she went to her writing desk and began to jot down all the ideas and projects she and Mamie had discussed as they made the rounds in Lincoln. Finally, Jack retired, and Ian came to read over her shoulder.

“The Female Department Improvement Committee?”

“Once we get up and running, the name could change. There’s only the four of us for now. Mamie, her sister, Mrs. Irwin—she said to call her Louise—and me. After Mamie sees what kind of a response she gets from the church ladies tomorrow, we’ll have a better idea of how to proceed.” She looked up at him. “But Mamie and Louise wanted me to be sure and ask you something right away.”

“I’m listening.”

“Who’s going to be in charge of the budget? And how much have you set aside to get things up and running? Miss Dawson seemed to think she would be expected to solicit donations for everything. I told her I was certain that since you approved an industry for the female department, you must have had a plan for funding. So how much do we have? Because I think we can make an excellent case for
four
new sewing machines. Louise thinks that, if the women want to quilt for hire, she can supply them with plenty of work. That would create two industries. We’d charge a penny for each foot of quilting thread that goes into a piece—” She broke off and laughed. “Well, I know that look. Am I going too fast for you?”

“I haven’t seen you this excited about anything since Jack said his first word.” Ian tugged on a curl at the nape of her neck. “I love the way the lamplight makes your skin glow.”

Ellen took a deep breath. She laid her pen down and, standing up, put her hands on his shoulders. “Tell me you love the way I organize.”

He grinned. “I love the way you organize. And yes, we’ll come up with a budget. I don’t expect Miss Dawson to do it all on donations, but I have to consult the bookkeeper about a few things before giving you a figure. If you’d like to come to the meeting at ten o’clock on Monday morning, you’re more than welcome. I’m assuming that since you’re calling her ‘Mamie,’ you and Miss Dawson have reached an understanding, and she won’t mind.”

“I think we’ve reached more than an understanding,” Ellen said. “We’ve started a friendship.” She paused. “And I’ve offered to teach reading—unless you object. We thought we’d do that first thing in the morning, three days a week to start. I’ll walk over as soon as Jack leaves for school. That’s assuming, of course, that when Mamie presents the plan, any of the women sign up.”

“Sign up?”

Ellen nodded. “We want them to take it seriously. If they commit, then they promise to attend every session and complete the required work. There will be a written agreement they have to sign. Of course at first they’ll only be able to make their mark, but the premise is the same. They need to take it seriously, and if they don’t abide by the rules, then they won’t be allowed to attend.”

“You really want to do this?”

“I want to try. It’s only until there’s a more qualified teacher in place. Did I mention we’re going to present a paid instructor for consideration as part of next year’s budget?”

Ian laughed. “You didn’t, but I’m not surprised. I’m the one who warned Miss Dawson about what happens when you get a bee in your bonnet, remember?”

“There are no bees in my bonnet, Mr. McKenna.” Ellen stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek just as Jack came back inside, bade them good night, and headed up to his room. Ellen nodded toward the stairs. “I’m exhausted. Let’s retire.”

Ian blew out the lamps, checked the doors, and followed her up the stairs. “Fishing with Jack gave me time to think through some things—and some of Miss Dawson’s plans and how they all fit into what I thought I wanted to accomplish when I took this job. I’ve decided something Miss Dawson said the other day is exactly right. Just being in prison is the punishment. As long as an inmate’s behavior doesn’t require something more, we have neither the need nor the right to punish any further than the state has already mandated.”

He talked all the way up the stairs and into the darkened bedroom. When he perched on the edge of the bed, Ellen knelt and helped him pull off his boots, then went to the dresser and began to take down her hair. He talked a while longer about his newly solidified philosophy regarding his job and how Miss Dawson had made suggestions for improvements just when he was formulating his own argument for the changes he wanted to make and the future he saw for the institution. His mellow voice filled the room as he talked. Try as she would, Ellen was having trouble paying attention. She did her best to murmur just enough response to let him know she was listening.