FRIDAY, MAY3, 1889•JANKOWSKIMANSION
The bright sunlight streaming through the windows was at odds with the gloomy atmosphere of her father’s room. His sickbed—even dressed with fresh linens and pouches of dried flower petals—was still a sickbed.
Martha came home from the quarry mid-afternoon desperate to speak with him, but all the positive thinking in the world couldn’t awaken him. She’d been reading to him for the last hour, but he hadn’t moved or made a sound.
Why hadn’t she worked harder over the years to have a better relationship with her parents? Now faced with the possibility of losing Father, she wasn’t quite sure how she felt about the distance that was oh-so-proper. Or so her mother stated.
Mother.
The woman was graceful, poised, proper, and could handle any situation. There was nothing Victoria Jankowski wouldn’t face head on. Except maybe a conversation about her feelings.
Over the past couple weeks, Martha had tried to get her mother to talk. And failed.
Being raised in one of the wealthiest families in the country was all her mother understood. Normal to Mother was a well-dressed table, five hundred rules of etiquette for each occasion, and plenty of distance. Between Martha and herparents. Between her and any chums at school. Between her and the servants.
No one was to get close to someone of their social standing.
“Martha, my dear.”
It took her several seconds to clear her thoughts. Looking up, she acknowledged her mother, who stood in the doorway. “Good afternoon.”
“Would you join me in the hall for a moment?”
“Certainly.” She stood, patted Father’s hand, and met her mother at the door.
“It’s good to see you taking the time to visit.” Mother’s blue eyes matched her own. They always fascinated Martha. Full of depth and secrets. Secrets that Martha wished she understood. Maybe then, she would understand her mother better. Know her more. But there was a wall around the woman that seemed impenetrable.
“I wanted him to hear my voice. I thought if I kept him updated on what was happening out at the dig, that it might help him to perk up a bit.”
“That’s a lovely gesture, my dear.” Mother reached over and touched her shoulder. One of the few displays of affection the matriarch of the Jankowski family allowed. “I’m sure he appreciates it.”
“I hope so. I hate to see him laid up.” She swallowed back the lump Mother’s words evoked.
“There is much to do, I’m sure, but I wasn’t certain if you would be joining me for dinner this evening. It might be nice to catch up.” The olive branch offered was exactly what Martha had hoped for. Prayed for. Longed for.
She’d take it. “I’ll be there.”
“Wonderful.” With that, her mother walked away.
Watching the woman who had given her life, Martha puzzled over what to talk about at dinner. If only there were a magic formula for winning the affections of one’s mother.
Entering her father’s sickroom once again, she had pushed away the longing she’d had for a confidante. She was long past the age of needing a bosom friend. She’d learned how to navigate society just fine. And if loneliness was the price to pay for getting to dig, Martha would pay it every time.
Her father’s nurse stood from her chair in the corner. “Miss Jankowski, if it is all right with you, I need to stretch my limbs. Might I take a stroll in the garden for a quarter of an hour?”
The woman had cared for her father around the clock.
The first few nights when Martha couldn’t sleep, she’d slipped into her father’s sickroom and found the woman sleeping on a sad little cot in the corner. She couldn’t refuse the nurse’s simple request. “Please. Go ahead. I’ll stay with him until you return.”
“Thank you.” She left the room, the door closing with a soft click. Father’s faint snores and the ticking of the clock were the only sounds that echoed through the cavernous room.
A surge of emotion welled up in her throat and the prick of tears made her try and blink them away. Grabbing her father’s hand, she stared at him. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but it’s me, Martha.” She licked her lips and tucked her lucky coin into his limp hand, wrapping his fingers around it. “You gave this to me when I was little and I’ve carried it with me everywhere since. Perhaps it will remind you of better days and help you to wake up.”
She watched him take a couple of shallow breaths. His skin was paler than ever, the scars an even starker white. With his cheeks sunken, and dark circles under his eyes, she had a hard time thinking positive thoughts about his recovery. As tears stung the corners of her eyes, she swallowed. Perhaps if she shared her heart, he would awaken. “There’s someone I would like you to meet. His name is Jacob Duncan. I met him a month or so ago at a lecture they were having at the university. He likes paleontology as well.”
The more she spoke, the more she relaxed. She held tight to his hand and smiled. “I hired him to work at my dig. He’s been so helpful. And encouraging. I’ve never met anyone quite like him. He grew up poor and has worked his way through school and life. One of the best things about him is that he makes me smile and laugh. I feel like...” Could she put it into words? “...I feel like he understands me for me. There’s no pretense.” She glanced down. “Oh, don’t worry. There’s nothing improper. He’s a perfect gentleman. Rest assured. But I feel a connection with him that I’ve never felt with anyone else.”
For several minutes, she allowed her own words to sink into her heart and mind. Her father’s serene face held no judgment, so she continued. “That’s why I would like for you to meet him. I know I told you last year that I wasn’t interested in courting anyone. Wasn’t interested in you setting up a suitable beau. I wanted to invest every ounce of energy and time I had into my work. And I meant it.”
