Letter Perfect ( Book #1) (2 page)

Why does she think that’s such a fine thing to claim? He was a mean, fat,
old man who killed off several wives and wreaked havoc in the church just to
satisfy his own needs!

“Each Pettigrew girl develops into a royal swan who glides through life with all of the essential social graces. You, Ruth, paddle mud into the pond and ruffle everyone’s feathers.”

Which makes me the clumsy, ugly duckling
.

“Simply put, you’re a misfit.”

Ruth’s chin jerked up. The abrupt action caused her hairpins to shift.
Misfit
. That description hurt. From the day she arrived, Ruth strove to fit in. She’d tamped down her impulsive nature and assiduously prayed for self-control to make this work—not because she wanted to be
properly finished,
but because she wanted to please her mother.

“The truth is far from flattering, Miss Caldwell, but you cannot deny it.”

As if on cue, Ruth’s hair broke free and splayed out around her shoulders.

Either unaware or uncaring of the pain her words inflicted, Miss Pettigrew made a disgusted sound, then continued. “For the sake of the others and my school’s reputation, I’m sending you home.”

St. Louis, Missouri

“Home sweet home,” Ruth singsonged under her breath up in her bedchamber. Truly, she belonged here, felt happy here. On the journey home she’d determined to convince Mama to abandon any hope of her marrying at all, let alone well. Within the comforting walls of their home, Ruth knew she would be happy.

She loved her room. The yellow-and-white striped wallpaper gave it a cheerful air, and the deep green counterpane never showed marks from her feet when she’d forget to remove her shoes and sit cross-legged as a heathen on the bed.

Bernadette bustled into the room with a vase full of daisies. “Your mama will wake up in about an hour. I asked Hadley to bring up your trunks. I’ll help you unpack them.”

“I can do it. I’m sure you’re busy.”

“Aw, now. I want to hear about everything.” Bernadette flashed her an affectionate smile. “Sure as shouting, something happened to bring you back home. You do manage to have a time of it, Ruth. Shameful as it is for me to confess, your stories tickle me.”

Heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs. Old Hadley wheezed and grunted his way into the room under the weight of Ruth’s smaller trunk. “Where d’you want this?”

“By the wardrobe, please.” Ruth fought the temptation to offer him help with her other, heavier trunk. Mr. Hadley might be old, but he had his pride.

“Put it down gently,” Bernadette ordered her husband. “No marking up the floor.”

“Since when did I ever scratch up your floors?” he grumbled. For all his grouchy tone, he still set down the trunk with care. Shrugging and stretching, he gave Ruth a woeful shake of his head. “They must’ve made you sew your fingers to the bone at that place. Your trunk wasn’t half that full when you left.”

“I did considerable sewing,” Ruth agreed. She withheld the fact that more often than not, her sewing consisted of mending hems she tore, buttons she popped off, and holes in her stockings that needed darning.

“Humph. Place like that ain’t right for you.”

“That goes without saying,” Bernadette scolded. “She’s back here with us, isn’t she, old man? Stop your yammering and go get the other trunk.”

Ruth waited until Hadley was out of earshot before she indulged her need to giggle. When Bernadette’s brows rose in silent inquiry, Ruth whispered, “Miss Pettigrew would swoon if she ever heard a woman tell her husband to stop yammering.”

Bernadette grinned. “That’s why you’re back home. You didn’t belong with that pretentious old bat. What does she know about husbands? She never caught herself one.”

Hadley chugged back into the room. “Want this by the bureau? Decide quickly, woman. My back’s breaking under the load.”

“Yes, the bureau,” Bernadette helped him set the trunk on end. “You’re a strong man, Hadley. Why don’t you go swipe a piece of cake to keep your strength up? Just be sure to leave enough for the ladies to enjoy with their tea once the missus wakes up.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” He pinched his wife’s cheek. “Nobody makes better pound cake than you.”

Ruth marveled at the couple who had helped Mama all her life. Whenever guests came over, Bernadette and Hadley acted like the penultimate servants; when alone with Ruth, they behaved like opinionated, loving relatives. Other than Grandmother and Grandfather, Ruth hadn’t seen another husband and wife who actually knew each other well and shared a genuine affection. Most marriages she observed were odd relationships, fraught with polite distance. It made her wonder why the Miss Pettigrews of the world put so much stock in marriage.

Oh, there were the financial issues to be considered. After all, few women could support themselves well by working at an acceptable trade. Men earned more and could own property. But if suffrage passed and women voted to improve their own lot, then marriage would be unnecessary unless a couple truly cared for each other and wished to have children.

Ruth stopped hanging her dresses in the wardrobe and tilted her head toward her mother’s bedchamber. “Mama’s coughing. When did her cough come back?”

“Truth is, she never got rid of it.” Bernadette turned away and put an armful of clothes in the top drawer of the bureau.

“Bernadette! I’ve been away for six months—don’t tell me Mama’s been sick that whole time. She’s been writing cheerful letters, telling me things are fine.”

“Things ain’t been fine for a while, child. If you ask me, it’s a good thing you’ve come home.”

Ruth dropped the dress she’d just taken out of the trunk and wheeled to run to Mama’s room.

The housekeeper flung her arms around Ruth and held her fast. “Now, now. No use you barging in and waking her. She needs her rest. No being tearful or dreary, either. We made an agreement to bear this with courage. Don’t you dash in there and shred your mother’s dignity.”

“I would have come home—”

“Which is what your mother didn’t want.” Bernadette’s hold eased. “She tried to protect you.”

Guilt washed over Ruth. “All these months, I could have been here and helped.”

“Nothing you could do that we didn’t already have in hand.” The old housekeeper patted Ruth’s cheek. “Your mama loves you and tried hard to make sure you’d be able to go on when she can’t be there for you.”

“She should have called me home. I would rather have been here.”

“If you dare chide her, I’ll have Hadley break out the hickory switch, and I’ll use it on you myself.”

“You’ve never used a hickory switch in your life.”

Bernadette shook her finger at Ruth. “And you’ve never seen one. It’s likely that’s why you’ve been sent back home. If anyone ever bothered to apply the rod of discipline to your backside, you probably wouldn’t be so impossible to deal with.”

Ruth wrapped her arms around the old woman and squeezed. “I love you, too.”

“I’m so glad to have you home,” Bernadette whispered to her. “Your mother wouldn’t let me send word to you. I’m sure God is tired of hearing me plead for you to be naughty so He could bring you back home where you belong.”

Ruth gaped. “You asked God to make me naughty, when I’ve been praying so hard to fit in and be good?”

“He’s wise, child. I knew I could trust Him to work it all out.”

Ruth sighed. “God’s going to have to work it out with Mama. She’ll be dismayed that I ruined my chances yet again.”

Bernadette patted her back. “God already worked that out years ago. He gave you a mother who loves you, regardless. Now let’s finish unpacking your things.”

“Tell me all about Mama’s health.”

“No, I promised I wouldn’t tell you a thing. You’ll just have to wait until she’s finished her nap.”

Leticia sat propped up in bed by a plethora of pillows.
She’s the
same color as her sheets,
Ruth thought as she entered the room. “Mama!”

Mama muffled a cough, then spread her thin arms wide. “You’re home!”

In times past, Ruth would have flown across the room and thrown herself into her mother’s arms. This time, she walked sedately, took a seat on the edge of the mattress, and carefully gathered her frail mother in her arms. “Yes, I’m home, and I’m staying here with you now.”

Ruth cradled her mother and closed her eyes against the sting of tears. Mama had always been petite, but she’d lost so much weight that every last bone jutted out beneath her nightdress.
I
should have been home… .

Ruth opened her eyes and noticed numerous hints about just how fragile her mother had become. Oh, her room still held the cameo-like beauty of apricot and ecru appointments, but the lowbacked wire vanity stool had been replaced with a rocking chair. The beautiful beige merino wool shawl draped across the back of it tattled how Mama chilled easily. Beside her lovely silver brush and mirror rested vials, bottles, and tiny paper packages of medicinal powders. A stack of freshly ironed hankies lay on the bedside table. And though Mama loved flowers and always insisted upon having a small arrangement in her room, the chrysanthemums served as a warning to Ruth that her mother had come into the autumn of her life.

This can’t be. Please, God, make her well
.

“You look even more beautiful than I remembered,” Mama said in a raspy whisper that still managed to sound merry.

Ruth cleared her throat. Mama needed her strength. She could indulge in tears some other time, but not now. “It’s a marvel Bernadette didn’t scream in fright when I walked in the door. She made me change out of my traveling gown and helped me dress my hair.”

Ruth looked down and tenderly stroked a damp tress from Mama’s temple. “You are—”

“—so happy to see you.”

Mama never interrupted anyone. Ruth understood then and there that her mother wanted to pretend all was well. What harm would it do? She owed Mama everything. If this was what Mama desired, she’d play along and act as if nothing were amiss.

“Well, well!” Bernadette shouldered through the door with a tea tray. “I told Hadley we ladies were going to have a reunion tea. I’m inviting myself. Ruth’s going to have to spin us all of her stories, and I’m feeling selfish enough to hear them at first telling.”

“You’re always welcome, Bernadette,” Leticia said.

“I know.” The housekeeper gave them a saucy smile. “That’s why I invited myself. You have to promise to eat a whole piece of cake, though. Ruth, don’t tell her more than one story if she only eats half.”

Ruth propped Mama back against the pillows. “Mama’s going to eat two pieces. My stories are bound to keep you both entertained for months.”

Please, Mama, tell me you’ll still be with us months from now,
Ruth inwardly begged as Mama held a tatted-edged hanky to her mouth and coughed.

Bernadette placed a small lap tray across Mama’s thighs, served her cake and heavily honeyed tea, and tucked a napkin across her front as if she were a child in need of tending. The actions were lovingly done, but so automatic Ruth realized her mother was almost helpless and had needed extreme assistance for some time now.

Oh, Mama, I would have been here for you.…

“So,” Bernadette said brightly, “you mentioned robins in one of your letters.”

Taking her cue, Ruth forced a laugh. “Oh, did I ruffle a few feathers over that escapade! You see, I found these little hatchlings on the ground. Cook didn’t appreciate the fact that I borrowed her favorite roasting pan to serve as a makeshift nest.”

“A roasting pan! Imagine!” Bernadette handed Ruth a plate.

“I named them Aria and Soprano because they chirped nonstop.” Ruth omitted mentioning Treble. Treble hadn’t survived, and the mention of her might upset Mama.

“You are so clever.” Leticia took a miniscule sip of tea.

“The headmistress didn’t think so when I hired the groundskeeper’s son to bring me worms each morning. The poor little birds needed to be fed, so what else was I to do?”

“They weren’t just newly hatched, then?”

“Actually, they were. Two of the other girls volunteered to help make sure we fed the tiny babies round the clock. It wasn’t long before they were my pets—I mean the birds, not the girls!”