Chapter 1 #3
He'd once thought himself a good judge of character, falling in love with Mary Beth and speaking his vows in church before God with the intention of committing to her for better or worse. He’d never dreamed that his better would become Mary Beth’s more-than-worse and split their marriage apart.
An unfamiliar knock sounded at the door, startling him out of his introspection. Torin set the P and note on the table, all the while wondering who could possibly be calling. Both Hank and Brian had distinctive knocks. This wasn’t theirs, and he only had four other options.
What if it’s a stranger?
His stomach tightened until he recalled today was Sunday, and that meant Constance and Dr. Angus might be driving up with Hank and Elsie.
Relieved, he rose and went down the hall into the entryway.
He opened the door to see a well-bundled-up Dr. Angus, a fur cap pulled low, obscuring most of his auburn hair.
The skin of his face was flushed with cold, but he broke into a wry smile.
Torin hurriedly stepped back to allow him to come inside.
The doctor grinned at Torin. “How many years do ye think it will take for me to adjust to Montana’s winters?”
Torin shrugged. “January is always the worst. No holidays to look forward to. February is just as cold. But, at least, you have the illusion of hope that spring will arrive soon.” He gestured toward the interior of the house. “Let me make you some tea to warm your innards.”
“Times like this, I miss a good scotch whiskey. A medicinal dram, ye understand.” He waved a hand in negation. “I’m not planning to bide. Everyone else is at Hank’s, and they’ve sent me with an invitation for ye and Jewel to join us.”
Torin’s heart warmed at the thought of socializing with trusted friends. “When Jewel wakes from her nap, we’ll head over.”
Dr. Angus glanced down the hallway at Jewel’s bedroom door. “I aimed for her naptime because I wanted to discuss…ah…an uncomfortable…a sensitive topic.”
All kinds of fearful thoughts crowded Torin’s mind, too many to grasp. His stomach tightened.
Dr. Angus raised a hand. “Dinna fash yerself. ’Tis a normal process I want to discuss—that of menstruation.”
Menstruation. Torin knew the word. Knew the concept. After all, he’d once been a married man. But he couldn’t reconcile that monthly visitor, as Mary Beth described her courses, with his daughter.
“At twelve, I don’t expect for ye to have to worry for a year or more likely two. But girls have been known to begin their flow at twelve. I see no reason for Jewel’s body not to perform in the same way other girls’ do.”
Seeing Torin’s stricken expression, Dr. Angus chuckled. “Now, lad, none of that, eh? ’Tis normal, and the fact that we are even having this discussion is all because ye have kept Jewel happy and healthy so she could grow into a young lady.”
My baby is becoming a young lady. The thought boggled his mind and squeezed his innards. Who am I to guide my daughter into becoming a woman? For the first time in ages, he sent angry thoughts Mary Beth’s way. She should be the one to prepare Jewel for womanhood!
He supposed any father would balk at discussing the subject of menstruation with his daughter. But how can I explain to Jewel in a way she’ll understand?
Dr. Angus remained silent, waiting while Torin’s thoughts jumped around like a frantic flea.
“Ye have time. Constance, Elsie, and Cora will help, of course. But it’s equally likely they’ll be in town when Jewel’s courses first start.
And…we don’t know how she’ll manage each month.
She might forget, and each appearance of menstrual blood might distress her. ”
Torin groaned and rubbed a hand over his head.
“No sense frettin’ now. I just want ye to keep some clean rags on hand to make into a clot. Willow bark tea, also, for if she has cramps.”
“Her mother did. Took to her bed for a day or two each month.” A mere man was not allowed near.
Dr. Angus’s eyebrows drew together. “Girls often take after their mothers.” He clapped a hand on Torin’s shoulder.
“Dinna fash yerself,” he repeated. “When the time comes, ye’ll weather this, as ye have every other aspect of Jewel’s life.
Now I’d best be joining the others.” He slipped his hat on and let himself out.
Torin stared blankly at the closed door. Dinna fash yerself. Easy for Dr. Angus to say. But he was fashing plenty. Torin knew he should move. See to the tasks he needed to finish before Jewel woke and wanted his attention. But his limbs remained locked in place.
His gaze fell on Ivy’s package. Suddenly, Cora’s suggestion of hiring her friend as a governess—one which he’d staunchly rejected—seemed a lifeline tossed to a drowning man.
The sooner he wrote Miss Jackson with an invitation, the sooner she could travel out here to be present for when his daughter’s body decided to make her into a young lady.
He took a deep breath to slow his racing heart. Jewel wasn’t about to start her courses just yet, and if he wrote as crazed as he felt, the lady would be justifiably frightened off. Moving to the buffet, he removed paper, an envelope, a brass inkwell, pen, and blotter from a drawer.
Bringing them all to the table, he sat and arranged everything to his satisfaction. After dipping his pen into the inkwell, he began to write.
Dear Miss Jackson,
It is with humble thanks that I send my appreciation for both the J and P you made for my daughter, Jewel. I know I sent my thanks for the J through Miss Collier (who has prevailed on me to address her informally as Cora). But with the arrival of the P, I felt it incumbent upon me to write, myself.
Torin didn’t have a lot of practice writing anymore, usually only lists of what to buy from the mercantile, and, in the intervening years, his fingers seemed to have lost the knack of writing in perfect copperplate.
He compared his schoolboy-looking scrawl to Miss Jackson’s precise lettering and sighed.
She’ll think I’m uncouth, uneducated, or both.
He held the nib to the paper for just a tad too long, resulting in an inkblot—a tiny one, marring the surface. He debated about starting anew but decided to plow on. A second attempt probably wouldn’t yield better results.
In the last year, I’ve tried to teach my daughter her letters, to no avail. So the fact that your creation enabled her to learn to write a J, and she does so eagerly and often, has made me realize that Jewel needs expert instruction.
Torin dipped the nib of his pen into the ink. But before pulling it out, he reread what he’d written. I sound so stilted. He sighed. He hadn’t corresponded with a female since he was in college and would write to his mother, grandmothers, and to Mary Beth.
Cora has praised your kindness and goodness with children, as well as your tutoring ability. After long thought, I want to offer you the position of Jewel’s governess. But firs,t I must acquaint you with the uniqueness of your position, although I’m sure you know some of this information from Cora.
At least, Torin hoped she did, because he wasn’t up to long explanations.
In order to protect my Mongoloid daughter from the stares and judgment of others and to keep her as happy and healthy as I can possibly manage, we live an isolated life in Three Bend Lake. Only six people in Sweetwater Springs know that Jewel exists. I’m sure Cora has written you about them.
I intend to continue keeping our privacy, which means you would lead a very restricted life, with no other companions beyond our small circle, and never venturing into town. A quiet life. A simple life. If you are a sociable woman, this wouldn’t be the place for you.
His chest had tightened again, and he paused to catch his breath. Given these parameters, why would she accept? Best sweeten the pot. He thought for a moment before beginning to write again.
In return, I’d pay you a generous wage—fifty dollars a month. And, of course, you won’t have to worry about room and board. In addition, I’ll provide any books or periodicals that you’d like to read and aren’t already in my library.
I can assure you that you’ll reside in one of the most beautiful places on earth. Not that I’ve seen all the beautiful places. But I’m sure Cora has written to you of Three Bend Lake with glowing descriptions.
I wouldn’t expect you to cook or clean. I’ve managed for myself and Jewel all these years, and, if I do say so myself, I’ve turned into a competent cook and adequate housekeeper.
Torin wasn’t sure if he should mention that he always kept a large stock of canned food on hand, due to never knowing when the weather would prevent Hank or Brian from going to town. Then he decided not to.
Now that I’ve sufficiently scared you off from my offer, I will once again write my thanks for the J and P and wish you well.
Your humble servant,
Torin Rees
P.S. Please reply in care of Miss Cora Collier at the Bellaire-Norton mansion.
He wiped off the nib of the pen, released a long breath, and sat back.
There. That’s done.
Lest he dither and out of cowardlyness not send the letter, he stood and tucked it into his coat pocket. Once Jewel was awake, they’d go to Hank’s, and he’d hand over the envelope to his friend to take to town.
I’ll leave the future in God’s hands.