Chapter 6
Six
S age admired the drawing on the piece of paper she’d found behind one of Jackson’s bookshelves.
After the past few hours of cleaning and organizing his study, one thing had become clear. Jackson was a very talented man. His diagrams of various items were meticulous. His sketches of bridges were extremely detailed. And his mathematical equations were elaborate and took up whole pages.
When Augusta had boasted about how intelligent Jackson was, Sage had assumed the doting older sister was exaggerating. However, if anything, Augusta had under-represented Jackson’s abilities.
Another thing that had become very clear after living in Jackson’s home for over two weeks was that the man was utterly and hopelessly disorganized. He left clutter in his wake everywhere he went and was always so buried in his papers and books and models that he never seemed to notice anything else.
With the dinner party taking place over the coming weekend, Jackson’s messiness was interfering with Augusta’s desire to have the house in complete order. Not only was she planning the menu and seating and entertainment for that evening, but she had also continued her steady purchase of items to decorate and fill the mansion. The choices were limited in what was available, but Augusta had brought home framed pictures, potted plants, mantel clocks, candlestick holders, vases, and more.
Although Sage accompanied Augusta from time to time, Augusta had taken to running errands by herself most days. Sometimes she was gone for such long hours that Sage had begun to worry, especially because when Augusta returned, she seemed frustrated or worried or perhaps both.
Sage had been tempted to ask if something was wrong, but she hadn’t felt the same freedom to cross social classes that she had during their ship voyage.
Part of it had to do with the way Jackson had put her in her place a week ago at the evening meal. Augusta had later apologized for her brother’s rudeness and had invited her to supper again the next night, but Sage had made excuses to stay away and had instead eaten with Gustave in the kitchen.
Whatever the case, Sage had continued to do the daily work of cleaning and tidying the home as well as laundering, ironing, lighting the fires, emptying the ashes, bringing in more fuel, and any other task that needed doing…like cleaning Jackson’s study.
Sage had been reluctant to even enter the room. But Augusta had insisted it needed to be scoured before the dinner party and had pleaded with Sage to make sure the job was completed.
Even though Sage had suggested closing the study door so none of the guests would witness the mess, Augusta claimed that doing so would only cause everyone to be curious and speculate about what they were hiding behind the closed door.
So this afternoon, with Augusta having gone on another errand, Sage had forced herself into the study. At first, she’d intended to just collect the discarded clothing as well as the unwashed plates and cups. But once she’d started gathering the items, she’d been unable to stop tidying everything else.
She’d put books back on the shelves and alphabetized them. She’d placed all Jackson’s correspondences in the mail slots of his desk by the order in which he’d received them. She’d returned his pens and other utensils in the holders next to the mail slots.
The sheets of papers containing all his work had still been scattered over his desk, on chairs, and even in heaps on the floor. While she’d initially hesitated in touching them, she’d finally begun the laborious process of organizing those too.
If there was one thing she excelled at, it was in organizing. She soon had every single paper in the room sorted into three piles on top of his desk—close-up diagrams, sketches of bridges, and the mathematical equations. Then she cataloged each pile, putting papers into chronological order. Although some of the diagrams and equations didn’t have dates, thankfully most did.
Finally, she’d polished every piece of wood, beat the dust from the rugs, and washed the floor. Now with the window freshly washed and the draperies drawn to let in the sunshine, she finished examining the diagram she’d just discovered behind the bookshelf—one that showed a cross section of an interior part of the bridge.
She didn’t understand what it represented, but the lines and measurements and equations around it fascinated her, nonetheless. Not because she was interested in engineering but because it gave her more insight into Jackson.
They still only saw each other in passing, and they only spoke to each other to relay Augusta’s requests. Even so, Sage had learned that not only did he excel at his work, but he was a devoted and kind brother, sitting with Augusta for meals, conversing politely, and inquiring into her life. He hadn’t seemed happy about the dinner party request, but he’d allowed Augusta to proceed with her plans anyway. He spoke fondly of his mother, and he seemed to genuinely care about his family, although Sage sensed that he wasn’t as close to his father.
Sage had also learned he wasn’t concerned about material possessions. He didn’t care what his sister purchased or how she decorated the house. He probably didn’t notice the changes unless Augusta specifically pointed them out to him. Even then, he complimented her efforts rather than being offended that she’d taken charge of his home.
Yes, Jackson Lennox was a complicated man, but underneath the beast, Sage had witnessed a softer side that she liked. Once in a while, when she looked past his overgrown hair, she even glimpsed a handsome man.
Augusta seemed to think that Jackson had taken the bridge accident personally and had cancelled his wedding because of his guilt over the tragedy. She also believed that God had brought them to Jackson to be part of his healing journey.
Maybe that was true for Augusta. But Sage wasn’t here for Jackson. Her first priority was to Augusta as a lady’s maid and saving her earnings for her family’s passage to the colony.
Sage placed the last, lone diagram in the right place within the stack, then picked up her duster.
“What do you think you’re doing?” The sharp question came from the doorway.
She spun to find Jackson stepping into the room. His appearance was as rumpled as always—his shirt untucked, his sleeves rolled up, his vest hanging open, and his cravat undone. His dark hair was sticking on end, and his mouth was set into a grim line amidst the scruffy facial hair.
He was glancing around the room, his forehead furrowing. “What have you done?”
“Augusta asked me to clean the study?—”
“This is my private workplace!” With each word, his voice rose a decibel. “I don’t need it to be cleaned!”
“I was following Augusta’s orders. She wanted it cleaned by the dinner party.”
“I didn’t approve of anyone touching anything.” His agitation was growing more tangible with each passing moment, and he began stalking to first one bookshelf then the next.
“Believe me,” she said more forcefully, “I didn’t do this for your sake. I did it for Augusta’s.”
“You’ve been meddling since the moment you got here.”
“Meddling? Is that what you call cleaning?” She knew she needed to bite her tongue and stay quiet. But there was something about his ranting that irked her, especially because she’d tried to be polite thus far, had exceeded her duties to help him, and had kept a cheerful and uncomplaining attitude like Augusta’s.
“I put up with your meddling elsewhere, but you shouldn’t have come in here!” This time he roared the words, his face turning a ruddy shade and his gaze bouncing from one piece of furniture to the next. “Now you’ve destroyed everything.”
“I’ve picked things up.” That was simplifying the situation. And his accusation that she’d destroyed everything was ludicrous since it was obvious she’d worked a miracle in his study and cleaned it beyond anything he could dream of.
“I didn’t want it picked up!” His breathing was rapid and his expression almost panicked. “I wanted it left alone.”
While she didn’t think he’d lash out at her physically, she was glad to have the large desk standing between them. She’d never been afraid to speak the truth to her sisters and tell them what they needed to hear in difficult situations. She’d always done so calmly, priding herself for her ability to keep her emotions and temper under tight control.
But at the moment, a strange pressure was building inside her—frustration at this man’s rudeness and ingratitude.
He scowled at the open draperies and the sunshine pouring in. “This is inexcusable! Unacceptable!”
“Do you know what is inexcusable and unacceptable?” She began to round the desk, her voice rising with uncharacteristic anger. “Your behavior. You’re acting like a child having a temper tantrum.”
He didn’t miss a beat in his ranting, almost as if he hadn’t heard her. “You shouldn’t have moved my stuff! I knew where everything was, and now I’ll never be able to find anything.”
She couldn’t keep back a laugh of disbelief. “Never find anything?”
“I had a system that worked for me!”
“Did it really work?” Now that she’d let her frustration loose, she couldn’t seem to force it back down. “From what I’ve observed, the only system you have is that you lose or misplace everything.”
If Jackson was surprised by her impertinent statement, he gave no indication. Instead, he merely roared back. “I left stuff out so that I’d know where to look when I came back to it.”
“Oh, please. You know that’s not true.” She was practically shouting now too. “You know what the truth is? The truth is that you’re a selfish, shaggy beast, and you don’t think of anyone else but yourself.”
As soon as she finished, she cupped a hand over her mouth, suddenly mortified.
His steel-blue eyes met hers—hard, unyielding, and angry.
For a moment neither of them said anything, their angry words still lingering in the air.
What kind of person was she becoming to lose control of her emotions and her words so easily? Fresh frustration swelled inside her, this time not at him, but at herself. A wave of remorse rolled over her along with mortification. This wasn’t like her, and she needed to apologize, but she couldn’t get the words out.
He pivoted and faced one of the tall bookshelves, his back rigid, his shoulders straight.
This would be a good time for her to make her escape from the room before he yelled at her again and before she said more that she would regret.
She started forward, lengthening her stride.
Before she made it to the door, his question snagged her. “You alphabetized the books?”
“Yes. And now I regret that I did.” She tossed her answer over her shoulder, not willing to pause and subject herself to another rebuke.
She hurriedly stepped into the hallway, her firm tread echoing in the silence of the home. She hastened into the parlor and didn’t stop until she crossed to the front bay window.
Dragging in a deep breath, she peered outside, her heart racing and her mind careening with everything that had just happened.
What had she been thinking to argue with a man like Jackson Lennox and speak to him so disrespectfully? If he went to Augusta and told her about the incident, Augusta was sure to be disappointed in her, and Sage couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing the sweet woman.
Even so, Jackson’s anger and belligerence raked across her nerves, setting her on edge once again. Surely she was justified in telling him how selfish he was. Someone needed to deliver the news.
She was surprised Augusta hadn’t been more forthright with Jackson yet, because normally Augusta was a forthright person. Maybe, however, she wasn’t sure how to approach her brother, not after so many years apart and not after what had happened with the bridge. She was likely trying to be patient and win him over steadfastly.
A sigh slipped from Sage. She should have done the same, exhibited patience and steadfastness instead of railing against him.
Blinking away her regrets, she took in the view out the window. On the clear afternoon without a cloud in the perfectly blue sky, she could see across the Strait of Juan de Fuca. The imposing but majestic sight of the Olympic Mountains greeted her and reminded her of the beauty of this new land, especially with the colorful changing trees in the lower elevations.
Maybe this new world and new life wouldn’t always be easy, but she couldn’t forget that it came with fresh opportunities and possibilities and life that she’d never been able to experience back in Manchester.
She and Willow would put their resources together and try to make a way for the rest of their family to come.
If ever she found Willow…
Sage hadn’t had any luck, and finally Augusta had started asking around after the bride-ship women who had come on the Robert Lowe . But since the colony had experienced two boatloads of women arriving so closely together, they hadn’t met anyone yet who had definitive news about Willow.
Sage wasn’t sure how long she stood looking out the bay window before a clearing throat startled her. She spun to find Jackson just inside the parlor door, a stack of papers in his hand, the one with his diagrams.
He was riffling through them. “You organized my work by the dates?” His voice was level, the edge from before gone.
“Yes.” She kept her voice level now too. “I made three separate files and categorized each by the dates. I thought it would be helpful if you could see the progression with each new diagram.”
He flipped through them one by one. The furrows in his forehead lessened, and one of his brows quirked up.
Her muscles tightened again as she waited for the monster from moments ago to rear his head and yell at her. Instead, he released a harumph , paged through the sheets again, then turned and left just as suddenly as he’d entered.
Perhaps she had taken the cleaning and organizing too far. It was just that she was used to taking charge of her family, of keeping everyone and everything in order. She was by nature a perfectionist…although she’d clearly failed in being perfect enough, especially for David.
A sting pricked her heart—the sting of his rejection. It wasn’t as strong as it used to be, but sometimes it still hurt and was the reminder that she was inadequate and was better off remaining a spinster.