The Ballad of Hattie Taylor Page 19

  “It happens to me all the time. Only the tallest men dare dance with me. And if none are available, I either sit with the matrons or suffer through mercy dances with men whose wives badger them into it when it becomes obvious no one else is going to.” She completed brushing Hattie’s hair and deftly twisted it into place, anchoring it with hairpins.

  “Well, that’s just incomprehensible,” Hattie said, standing up and leaning forward to admire Nell’s handiwork in the spotted mirror above her dresser. “Imagine anyone passing up someone as exquisitely beautiful as you simply because you stand eyeball to eyeball with him. Men are such fools. Maybe I should introduce you to Moses. He’s huge.”

  “Your erstwhile friend? No, thank you. It seems to me if he had been there when you needed him, your Jake never would have sent you to Mr. Lord’s house.”

  “He’s not my Jake, and as far as I’m concerned he is solely to blame for sending me there. I don’t care what he said his reasons were. They were ludicrous—Jake never would have hurt me. But he was so bound and determined to follow his own course he ignored every attempt I made to tell him how nervous Roger made me. I don’t know if I can ever forgive him for that.” She looked at Nell over her shoulder. “Don’t blame Moses, Nell—I certainly don’t. My immodesty was responsible for ruining our friendship.”

  “Well, it sounds to me as if he took full advantage of your immodesty and when he was through enjoying it, he cast you aside.” Nell found Jake’s attempt to save Hattie’s virtue from his ravening lust rather romantic—sort of like star-crossed lovers from a Shakespearean play. But for a friend to turn his back on her in her time of need . . . that was unforgivable.

  Hattie rather thought Nell was being overly hard on a person she’d never even met. But because Hattie was awed that this woman genuinely sought her friendship, an act so unique and lovely it wrapped Hattie in an unaccustomed blanket of warmth, she let it go.

  That morning was the beginning of a healing period for her. Being in an environment where no one had preconceived notions of her was a revelation. Her friendship with Nell grew deeper every day, and there was something liberating about confiding her thoughts to a female her own age. She could tell Nell anything and be understood in a way she’d never been before. Even with Moses, whom Hattie loved like a brother, certain subjects were taboo. With Nell, there were none. When she said as much, however, Nell merely sniffed. She persisted in holding a grudge against Moses.

  To Hattie’s further amazement, she discovered she was regarded as a leader. She and Nell were the oldest students and the best educated. Studies came easily to them, and socially, they were of the “first water,” as one student constantly commented. Soon the younger girls were coming to them for help with their schoolwork or to solicit advice on clothing, manners, and etiquette. Being held in high regard was a first for Hattie—one she found seductive.

  Free time at the normal school was limited. Students were only allowed to leave during daylight hours, in well-chaperoned groups. But Nell had been raised in the upper strata of Seattle society, and although her father’s earning capability died with him, spelling the demise of most of her family’s wealth, the association still carried weight with the school’s matron. Nell’s family might be considered poor by their former standards, but they were still on society’s fringe. Because of it, occasionally Nell gained permission for herself and Hattie to spend the weekend with her mother and sister.

  Mostly, they spent their weekend quietly visiting with Nell’s mother, a soft-spoken woman baffled by her newly demoted position in society, and her sister, Lizzy, who was as tall and as beautiful as Nell and cheerfully determined to marry a rich man. They clearly loved Nell even if they didn’t understand her desire to make her own way. Hattie, who understood perfectly, enjoyed spending time with them.

  Hattie’s two years in Seattle passed rapidly. The memory of her violation at Roger Lord’s hands was an easily aroused specter, but she learned to relegate it to the back of her mind, and its impact faded over time. Doggedly avoiding going home during holiday and summer breaks helped. Except for Nell, no one here knew what had happened to her, and it was amazing how much being unreservedly admired and respected bolstered her sense of self-worth. Her confidence grew daily.

  Nell taught her tricks to help her stop and consider her words and actions instead of reacting with rash thoughtlessness. They became valuable tools she tried to practice daily. To Hattie’s pleasure, although she occasionally backslid, her skills continued to grow.

  In return, when she saw Nell did indeed grow quiet and diffident around men, stifling her sense of humor as she tried to blend into the woodwork, she taught her friend the art of light flirtation. There weren’t many opportunities for Nell to practice her budding wiles, but twice last summer they’d gone to the dance pavilions on Alki Point. Almost ten months later, Nell was still talking about her success in gratified amazement.

  Seven weeks ahead of graduation, before she had a chance to send out her first application, Hattie received an offer of employment from the Mattawa school board. She was stunned. And quite positive Aunt Augusta had something to do with it.

  “Are you going to accept?” Nell asked after reading the letter Hattie handed her.

  Hattie’s first inclination was to reject the offer out of hand. “Why should I?” she demanded. “Until I left Mattawa I never realized people could actually like me or that other girls my age might actually look up to me. Why subject myself to more of Mattawa’s character assassination when I can go somewhere I won’t be prejudged before I even set foot in town?”

  “Because you miss your home?” Nell suggested gently. “Because you’re lonely for your aunt and Moses and Doc and Mirabel, and even Jake? Because letters from home and spending your holidays with my family haven’t been enough?”

  Nell sat next to Hattie on the bed. “Aren’t you the one who’s complained for the past two years that you can’t hire a decent mount in this town? That you’re tired of riding streetcars and long to race the wind on your horse, Belle?”

  It was true. For all Mattawa’s faults, it was still her home and she missed it.

  Yet, it wasn’t that simple. “I don’t know if I can face Jake, Nell. Or Roger Lord.”

  “I know. In a town the size of yours, I imagine it’s inevitable you will run into Lord sooner or later. But why wouldn’t you be able to face Jake? I thought you’d finally forgiven him.”

  “Sometimes I think I have. But other times . . .” It had taken her nearly the full two years here to reach an uneasy peace with her feelings for Jake. She resented him bitterly when recollections of her violation exploded past her guard. Yet, with the newly adult part of herself, she tried to put herself in his place and understand his reasons.

  Plus, she couldn’t forget that night in her room and the way Jake had made her feel. Yes, he was responsible for sending her to Roger Lord. Conversely, he was also responsible for her knowing what Roger did to her was not the way the private act between a man and a woman was supposed to be. “I can’t decide this immediately,” she finally said, looking down at the letter in her hand. “I need to give it some thought.”

  The next day, Hattie was in their room when Nell entered. She looked up to greet her and was struck by the strange expression on her friend’s face. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. It’s just . . .” Nell’s voice trailed away. “Hattie, have you reached a decision about taking the teaching position in Mattawa?”

  “I keep bouncing between being sure I wanna go home and equally sure I don’t. Why?”

  Nell pulled a letter from her skirt pocket and handed it Hattie. Perusing it swiftly, Hattie felt her jaw sag. Snapping her teeth together, she looked up at Nell. “They’re offering you a position, too.” She handed Nell the letter. “This has to be Aunt Augusta’s doing. She knows how much you’ve come to mean to me.” Reaching out, she grasped her friend’s
hand. “Oh, Nell, not to have to go our separate ways.”

  And so it was decided. Hattie might have been able to ignore the lure of home, but she was utterly helpless in the face of the opportunity to keep her friend with her. Hattie and Nell wrote the Mattawa school board that evening, accepting the positions.

  She was going home.

  Part

  2

  23

  Northern Pacific Cascade train

  FRIDAY, JUNE 12, 1908

  Allll aboard—final call!”

  Staring out at the station platform through a rain-drizzled train window, Hattie mentally willed the ticketholders on this trip to shake a leg. Mere moments later, the exterior door nearest her clanged closed, and she perked up. Finally. Then she swallowed a sigh when the porter escorted an older woman to the seat next to hers. “Here you go, madam,” he said.

  Drat. She had been so close to that seat remaining empty. Hattie looked up at the plump, smiling woman standing next to the aisle seat beside hers.

  Oblivious to her disappointment, the woman flashed her a cheery smile. “Hello, dear. I am Mrs. Whelan. It appears you and I will be seatmates.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m Hattie Taylor.”

  “Lovely to meet you.” The train jerked, and as it began its slow chug away from the station, the older woman hastily took her seat. Her heavily embroidered waistcoat rustling beneath her long jacket, Mrs. Whelan settled. “Which is your stop, dear?”

  “Mattawa, Oregon, by way of Portland.” She half attended as her seatmate regaled her with her closer destination and the family she’d be visiting. Hattie could not shake the tension in her shoulders. If she hadn’t been in such a burning hurry, she could’ve been traveling back with Aunt Augusta right now. That would have made this return far less stressful.

  When she’d left Mattawa almost two years ago, Hattie had desperately needed the distance, yet once having made the decision to accept the offer of employment, she’d all but champed at the bit to go home. She suddenly missed everything she’d been so anxious to leave behind. So, Hattie had impulsively wired Aunt Augusta to forego the graduation ceremony. If she picked up her diploma but skipped the ceremony, she’d explained, she could catch a train to deliver her home a full day and a half earlier.

  It never occurred to her she might suffer a complete reversal of her frantic optimism the instant the train departed King Street Station. Yet, five minutes ago, she could barely wait to get home again. Now actually on her way, she questioned the wisdom of going back at all.

  “How about you, dear? Is Mattawa your hometown? Do you have family there?”

  Hattie shook off her messy ruminations and after what felt like a long pause but she hoped was not, said, “Yes, ma’am, to both. I was born elsewhere, but have lived with my aunt in Mattawa since I was a youngster.” That Aunt Augusta was actually Hattie’s too-many-times-removed cousin for anyone to keep it straight didn’t need to be shared. In Hattie’s heart, Aunt Augusta was precisely that: her most beloved aunt.

  “Have you been on a shopping trip to the big city?” Mrs. Whelan inquired.

  “Oh no, ma’am. I just received my diploma from the Seattle Normal School. I’m taking a position at the schoolhouse in Mattawa.” In truth, she was still a bit rattled that she’d accepted the position. As the miles from Seattle dissolved beneath the steel wheels of the locomotive, she asked herself why she had.

  Because she missed Augusta grievously, and Mirabel and Moses too? She even missed Jake, God help her, and heaven knew their relationship was rife with ups and downs. But, of course, Mattawa was her home. Which led her back to—

  “Where did you go?”

  Hattie jerked and realized she’d drifted into thoughts of home mid-conversation with the very curious Mrs. Whelan. “I got so caught up in the idea of going home I’m afraid my mind wandered. What did you ask?”

  “I . . . Well, my question was actually quite rude of me and truly none of my affair.”

  Channeling Aunt Augusta, Hattie raised her chin to an imperious angle and pinned the older woman with a steely “then don’t ask” gaze.

  And darned if it didn’t work. Mrs. Whelan slapped her hands together and rose briskly. “I believe the dining car is calling me to have tea. Would you care to accompany me?”

  “Thank you, no. Even though it’s early days yet, I’m still preparing mentally for the upcoming school year.”

  Mrs. Whelan nodded. “Then I shall see you in a while.” Rising, she stepped into the aisle and made her way down the car.

  Hattie’s mind promptly returned to her interrupted thoughts. Since her unexpected offer of employment, she’d given her relationship with Jake a lot of thought. And finally concluded it was time to let her anger go. Knowing he’d sent her to Roger Lord that awful night still made her stomach churn. Jake had been upset and hadn’t given any real credence to her protests. To the unease she’d felt . . . Yet, she knew in her heart he had no reason to suspect what would happen. Even her discomfort around Lord had been feelings, not knowledge. She hadn’t suspected anything near the terrifying violence he’d inflicted upon her. Plus, she and Jake had once shared a special bond. It might not still exist, but at the very least she could be civil.

  Hattie locked the subject in a far recess of her mind. Her forgiveness, or whatever this was she was attempting, was a work in progress. Watching the landscape flash by outside the train window, she considered instead the upper echelon of Mattawa society, of which the Murdocks were an esteemed part.

  It was ironic, really, to recall how most of those people seemed to believe she didn’t care about their collective opinions. She’d cared, all right. She had cared a great deal. Only Aunt Augusta and perhaps Moses ever understood how much. And neither of them, much as they might have wished otherwise, had the power to help her. Hattie had known, even as a headstrong teenager, that she was the only person with the ability to reverse the town’s opinion of her. And it had been beyond her capabilities then to pretend to be someone she was not. No matter how much she’d desired to fit in—and there had been times she’d ached with the need—her tongue had possessed a mind of its own.

  During her time away from Mattawa, she’d come to realize much of the disapproval she’d garnered was not, perhaps, entirely unfounded. Accepted the fact she’d often been the author of her problems. Her behavior had been far from exemplary. She was defensive in response to her peers’ dislike of her and tended to say far too much instead of prudently keeping some thoughts to herself. And what impulsively emerged from her lips had far too often simply reinforced her detractors’ unfavorable opinion of her. She hadn’t yet accepted the wisdom of considering her response before actually uttering it.

  Thanks to Nell, she’d learned to play by society’s rules. The hardest lesson had been accepting that life wasn’t always fair. Once she quit expecting every situation to be so, she had made amazing strides. Good heavens, under Nell’s tutelage Hattie even mastered her unfortunate, impulsive tendency to speak first and think second. Most of the time, anyway.

  Hattie stared out the window at the ever-changing landscape as the train left the sunlit valley to barrel into shaded woodlands. She all but pressed her nose to the less-than-pristine window, hoping to see something recognizable. Nothing was.

  She wished Nell had accompanied her today but understood her friend’s desire to stay in Seattle awhile longer. For Nell, the move to Mattawa meant leaving everything she knew. Of course, she was eager for her family to see her graduate. And following the ceremony, she planned to spend a few weeks with her mother and sister.

  It sometimes slipped Hattie’s mind that her friend didn’t have the same financial resources Hattie did. Nell shouldn’t have had to gently remind her that teachers weren’t paid with overwhelming generosity. Or that Nell had no idea when the next opportunity to see her family would arise. It was important she see as much of them as sh
e could before her employment began. Hattie felt so selfish, wishing Nell were with her instead.

  She would likely come up against old attitudes and prejudices again and wouldn’t always have a buffer. So, please, Lord, she fervently prayed, let my brain act more swiftly than my tongue.

  In her first female friend’s absence, Hattie simply needed to remember the lessons Nell had drummed into her head. And her way of relating to folks would, most definitely, be different this time. She was more mature, less hotheaded these days. And surely a shade more tolerant.

  Yes, she admitted as she watched Mrs. Whelan approaching, she was still a bit suspicious. It was part of her character—a part embedded right down to her bedrock during those final weeks before leaving for school in the summer of ’06. But she would, by golly, work on overcoming her suspicions.

  In her heart, Hattie thought she did, in fact, understand her reasons for accepting this unexpectedly offered position. Mattawa was her home and she had much to prove.

  What she didn’t know was what had driven the decision to extend an invitation to join the staff. She was pretty certain, however, she detected the fine hand of Augusta Witherspoon Murdock behind her and Nell’s surprising appointment by the school board.

  Regardless of how it came about, she had been given an opportunity to make Augusta proud. She was determined to play the game by society’s rules and all the slippery edicts that had eluded her in the past. She would grasp her temper in both hands and not let go. No matter what.

  If she knew the guiding forces in Mattawa’s top social circle, they had her dismissal already prepared before she even got to town. It was probably all neatly written up on one of those new typewriter machines, just waiting for her to provide them with the opportunity to ride her out of town on a rail.

  Well, she hoped they didn’t hold their breath. Because she was going to be so even tempered, so blessed schoolmarmish this go-around, it would make Mattawa’s collective heads spin.