The Pattern of Her Heart Read online

  The Pattern of Her Heart

  Copyright © 2005

  Tracie Peterson and Judith Miller

  Cover design by Dan Thornberg, DesignSource

  Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher and copyright owners.

  Published by Bethany House Publishers

  11400 Hampshire Avenue South

  Bloomington, Minnesota 55438

  Bethany House Publishers is a division of

  Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan.

  Printed in the United States of America

  Dedicated to Lana Nicol

  A friend who brings joy to my heart.

  Special thanks to

  Martha Mayo

  University of Massachusetts Lowell

  Center for Lowell History

  Contents

  CHAPTER • 1

  CHAPTER • 2

  CHAPTER • 3

  CHAPTER • 4

  CHAPTER • 5

  CHAPTER • 6

  CHAPTER • 7

  CHAPTER • 8

  CHAPTER • 9

  CHAPTER • 10

  CHAPTER • 11

  CHAPTER • 12

  CHAPTER • 13

  CHAPTER • 14

  CHAPTER • 15

  CHAPTER • 16

  CHAPTER • 17

  CHAPTER • 18

  CHAPTER • 19

  CHAPTER • 20

  CHAPTER • 21

  CHAPTER • 22

  CHAPTER • 23

  CHAPTER • 24

  CHAPTER • 1

  Mid-August 1857

  THE PRIMROSE-YELLOW skirt of Jasmine Houston’s gown fluttered in the early afternoon breeze, the satin-banded hem settling like a field of daisies across the thick green grass as she stooped in front of her five-year-old daughter. Gently cupping the child’s small dimpled chin in her palm, she issued a silent prayer of thanksgiving for Alice Ann’s return to health before making eye contact with the child. “We must go upstairs and prepare for your birthday celebration before our guests arrive.”

  The little girl hopped from foot to foot while pointing at one of the distant barns, where the Houstons stabled their ever-increasing herd of Arabian horses. Her cornflower-blue eyes glimmered with anticipation as she turned back to her mother. “Am I going to get my pony today?” she quizzed.

  Jasmine nibbled at her lower lip, for she didn’t want to shed tears. This was, after all, a day for rejoicing, not a time of despair. The entire family had been waiting for over three months to celebrate Alice Ann’s birthday, waiting and praying the child would live through the debilitating illness that had ravaged her frail body. Scarlatina maligna, Dr. Hartzfeld had told them—a fancy name for a highly dangerous form of scarlet fever. A disease that could leave Alice Ann with lifelong medical problems . . . if she lived. The doctor had whispered his final assessment, fearing the pronouncement of a death sentence upon the child would send Jasmine into a depression.

  Instead, his words had propelled her into bustling activity. With a mother’s fear and determination, she enlisted the aid of attendants to assist with Alice Ann’s care. Hopeful the disease would not spread to other members of their family or the community, Jasmine had immediately quarantined the household and ordered small doses of belladonna for all who came in contact with the child. She had diligently researched every piece of medical advice that came her way, and most importantly, she had requested that every person in the community pray for Alice Ann.

  Now, looking into her daughter’s bright blue eyes, she knew all those months of diligent care had been worth it. Dr. Hartzfeld’s predictions had been wrong. Alice Ann’s health had been restored, and she was now the same precocious little girl she’d always been. Amazingly, there was no evidence she’d ever suffered the debilitating illness. However, healthy or not, Jasmine believed the child still too young for her own pony.

  So how could she best answer the child’s question? “We never promised you a pony as a birthday present. What about the toys we looked at in Whidden’s Mercantile?” Jasmine inquired as she took hold of Alice’s hand and led her into the house.

  “The doll was pretty, but I want my very own pony. Spencer has his own horse,” she said, her pink lips forming a tiny pout.

  “But you must remember that horses require a great deal of work. They aren’t like a toy that you can play with for a short time and then put aside. They must be cared for every day.”

  “Spencer could take me with him when he goes to take care of Lockspur.”

  Jasmine smiled at the child’s pronunciation. “Larkspur,” she gently corrected. “And though it’s true you could go with your brother to the barns, he might not enjoy having you in tow all the time. He and Moses like to spend time with the horses by themselves. They might feel as if you’re intruding. Besides, Spencer didn’t receive his pony until he was seven years old.”

  “But I can ride better than Spencer,” she argued, her pout once again returning.

  “What’s this I hear? Our birthday girl isn’t unhappy, is she?” Nolan called out as mother and daughter walked down the hallway, approaching his library door.

  Jasmine stopped and met her husband’s warm gaze. “We’re discussing birthday gifts.”

  Nolan balanced his chin between his thumb and index finger and looked down at his daughter. “This sounds like a particularly interesting topic. Did you make a special request for your birthday?”

  Alice tilted her head and looked up to meet her father’s sparkling eyes. “You know I want a pony, but Mama said Spencer was seven when he got his pony. I’m a much better rider than Spencer was when he turned five, don’t you think? And I’m almost five and a half,” she hastened to add.

  Jasmine wondered if the girl’s remark was meant to evoke sympathy from him. After all, it was Nolan who had promised Alice Ann that she would have a superb birthday party once her health permitted the celebration. He had spent hours going over the details with her, planning a picnic on the back lawn, where everyone would come to celebrate the fact that she was now a big girl—a whole five years old. At the time, Alice had been too sick to care about any of it, but as her health began to return, she’d joined in with her father, planning the grandest of all birthday parties. Jasmine credited Nolan with giving Alice Ann a reason to fight the illness.

  Nolan smiled adoringly at the child. “It’s true that you’re well on the way to six years of age, and you’re certainly much more grown up than Spencer was at your age. I believe he was still playing with his toy soldiers and riding a pretend stick horse when he was five.”

  Jasmine gave her husband a warning look.

  “The fact remains, however, that you’re still very young. It seems that being around Spencer and Moses has caused you to believe you’re able to do everything they can do. However, you must remember they are nearly ten years old, and that makes them a good deal older than you. They are also young men, and as such they may play in a much rougher fashion.”

  “But I’m a good rider, aren’t I, Poppa?”

  “Indeed you are. But your mother is correct; five is very young for a horse of your own. Come sit down with me for just a minute.”

  Alice Ann wriggled into place on the divan and then looked expectantly at her father.

  “I want to tell you a story about a little prince who lived in a faraway land. His father, the king, loved his little boy very much and wanted his child to be happy. So every time the prin
ce mentioned there was something he desired, the king gave him the item. The little prince quickly learned that all he needed to do was state his desire and the king would hasten to purchase it. So the little prince continued this ritual, making more and more lavish requests of his father. Each day the gifts would arrive and be given to the little prince.”

  Alice Ann’s eyes danced with delight, her soft brown curls bobbing up and down as she nodded her acceptance of the little prince’s good fortune. “And did he want a pony?”

  “Oh, that was one of his very first requests,” Nolan replied. “But the prince received so many gifts that he didn’t appreciate or take care of any of them. He soon grew bored and nothing made him happy.”

  Alice Ann gave her father a questioning look. “But his pony made him happy, didn’t it.” Her words were stated with absolute authority.

  He shook his head. “Only for a very brief time. As I said, the prince quickly tired of each gift he received. But then one day the prince was at the market with a servant, and he saw a man with the most wonderful puppy he had ever seen. It was a happy little pup with a wagging tail and lots of soft fur. He told the servant to get him the dog, but the owner refused. The puppy was not for sale.” Nolan glanced at Jasmine.

  “And then what happened?” Alice Ann asked.

  Nolan settled back against the arm of the divan and rubbed his chin. “Well, the king sent word to the man and told him to bring his puppy and come to the castle. The king offered to purchase the puppy with several gold pieces, but the man still wouldn’t give him the puppy. And no matter how many gold pieces the king offered, the man continued to refuse. Finally, the king asked what he needed to do in order to buy the puppy for his son.”

  Alice Ann straightened and gave her father her undivided attention. “What did the man say?”

  “He said the prince would need to prove himself.”

  With her chin resting in one hand and her eyes shining with wonder, she asked, “How was the prince supposed to do that?”

  “He would be required to care for the animal. So, in order to test the prince, the puppy remained at the castle. Each day the man checked to make sure the prince had fed and played with the dog. Within only a few days, the prince thought the man should be willing to give him the puppy, but the man still said no. Each week the prince asked for the puppy, and each week the man said no. So the prince continued caring for the puppy, and the man kept coming to the castle to ensure that the puppy was cared for. At the end of the year, the prince asked if he could have the puppy.”

  “And what did the man say?” Alice Ann asked in a hushed tone.

  “The man said to the prince, ‘The puppy is already yours. Because you have cared for him and loved him, you’ve made him your own. Through your actions, you’ve shown the puppy he can trust you and you are his master.’

  ” Jasmine gave Nolan a warm smile and then patted her daughter’s plump hand. “Come along, Alice Ann, we must go upstairs and get ready now.”

  The child grasped her mother’s hand tightly. “Thank you for the story, Poppa. I’ve already picked out a name for my pony.”

  “Did you listen to the story?” he called after his daughter as she bounded down the hallway.

  “Yes. And it was very good,” she responded emphatically.

  Jasmine glanced back at Nolan and shrugged as their daughter ran up the steps. “I’m not sure she completely understood. Unfortunately, I fear she’s going to be terribly disappointed when she opens her package.”

  “We’ll see,” he replied absently.

  Jasmine climbed the stairs and met Martha in the upper hallway. “I’ll see to Miss Alice Ann if you have other matters that need your attention,” the maid offered as she stacked sheets in the linen chest. “Being around Miss Alice Ann reminds me of being with your grandmother. This child was certainly named after the proper person—she’s got the same bubbly enthusiasm.”

  Jasmine smiled at the comparison as Alice Ann scampered into her bedroom. Jasmine knew her grandmother’s former maid missed the old woman very much. The two had been more than employee and employer; they had been the best of friends. “She reminds me of Grandmother in many ways also. I truly wish Grandmother had lived long enough to actually hold Alice Ann in her arms.”

  “But she died knowing that if you gave birth to a little girl, her name would be Alice. I know the thought that she would have a namesake made her very happy. And Alice Ann flits about this house with the same authority as her great-grandmother— just like she’s in charge of the whole wide world.”

  “You’re right on that account, Martha,” Jasmine replied with a laugh. “If you’re positive you don’t mind helping Alice Ann dress, it would be truly helpful. I can fix her hair once she’s dressed. I’d like to check on Spencer and then see to baby Clara. You can send Alice Ann to the baby’s room when you’ve finished.”

  Martha nodded and whispered, “Alice Ann doesn’t suspect she’s getting a new doll, does she?”

  “No, although I fear she may be disappointed. She’s talked of nothing but a pony lately, and I believe she’s positive her father won’t fail her.”

  “Don’t you worry. She’s just like her great-grandmother Wainwright. She’ll be happy as can be with whatever she receives.”

  “I hope you’re correct.” Jasmine was not nearly so confident of her daughter’s reaction to the gift.

  “You can always tell her that if she isn’t pleased with the doll, you know several little girls who would be delighted to have it. She’ll soon change her mind,” the older woman said with a wink. “ ’Course, we can’t go giving it away—I spent too many hours on that dress and cape for her dolly,” she added with a chuckle.

  When Jasmine brought the doll home from Whidden’s several weeks ago, she had drawn Martha into her confidence and shown her the gift. It had taken only a moment for Martha to decide the doll needed additional clothes and that she would immediately begin the task. It would be her birthday gift to Alice Ann, she’d insisted. During the past weeks, Martha had used her free time to stitch a cream wool doll’s dress and matching hooded cloak. With loving care, the older woman had embroidered tiny pink and blue flowers and green leaves around the hem of the dress and then attached a small pink tassel to the hooded cape.

  “The dress and cape are beautiful, Martha. If Alice Ann isn’t overly disappointed with the doll, I know she’ll be delighted with the clothes you made.”

  “Mama, are you coming?” Alice Ann called from her bedroom.

  The two women exchanged a knowing look and rushed down the hallway in opposite directions. If they didn’t soon get the children dressed, their guests would arrive with no one at the door to properly greet them.

  “Elinor!” Jasmine greeted. “I am so pleased you’ve come.”

  “I wouldn’t have missed it,” Elinor said, extending a package.

  “You didn’t need to bring a present. Having you join us is gift enough,” Jasmine admonished as she took the ribbon-bedecked offering.

  “I hope Alice Ann will like it. I saw Martha in Whidden’s two weeks ago, and she mentioned the doll you had purchased. Mrs. Whidden gave me the doll’s measurements. I fashioned a matching bonnet for Alice and her doll, but you must set it aside until after she has opened your present, or she’ll wonder why I’ve chosen to make her such a gift.”

  “What a wonderful idea, Elinor. She will absolutely love it.”

  “I trust her health has continued to improve.”

  “Indeed! You would think she’d never suffered a sick day in her life. When I watch her running about, I’m truly amazed by her recovery. Now, do come out to the rose garden with me. I believe most of the guests have arrived, and we’ve gathered on the lawn to visit and allow the children to play some games before we have our refreshments. How have you been?”

  “I’ve been just fine. It’s so good to see you.”

  “Since you began attending church on Kirk Street, I don’t see you often enough. It’s
been at least several weeks since we’ve seen one another, and Martha didn’t mention seeing you at Whidden’s. I was beginning to worry you’d taken ill,” Jasmine said as she looped arms with Elinor and walked her to the backyard.

  “It’s difficult to get away from the boardinghouse. As you know, mill work is hard and the girls put in long hours. And of course they expect to find hot meals and a clean house upon their return. When I do have free time, it seems it’s filled by attending one meeting or another and helping with various church functions. There’s precious little time left to go calling, but be assured that I’ve missed our visits also.”

  “Speaking of helping with church functions, I met your new pastor and his daughter two weeks ago. In fact, Spencer insisted we invite them to the party today. He and Moses have become fast friends with young Reggie.”

  Elinor grinned. “I don’t doubt that statement for a minute. I believe Reggie is quite the tomboy, but she seems a very sweet girl.”

  “She can straddle and ride a horse better than both of the boys, though I doubt her father realizes she does so,” Jasmine confided.

  “I imagine someone will be quick to advise him. The ladies of the church are keeping both Pastor Chamberlain and Reggie in their sights.”

  “No doubt! After all, the women do outnumber the men in Lowell. I do believe every single woman in town views Justin Chamberlain as an excellent prospect.”

  “Not every single woman,” Elinor said. “The last thing I want is another husband.”

  Jasmine tilted her head and arched her perfectly shaped eyebrows. “I stand corrected—almost every woman.” Elinor had been widowed twice and was not yet thirty and three years of age. Jasmine eyed her friend cautiously. “Still, it always seems to be those who protest something that end up wading deep in its cause.”

  “I’ve seen the time when I was forced to wade deep in horse droppings,” Elinor protested, “but it didn’t mean I desired to be there.”

  The two women laughed and waved in return as Alice Ann and several young friends sprinted past them, waving wildly.