My Neighbor, My Love by Joan Grammer © Copyright 2013 This work may not be reproduced without express written consent of the author. Chapter 1 “Jenny! Jenny!” hands on hips, Kathleen looked across the meadow to the woods. She sensed her husband’s presence behind her before he rested his hand on her waist. “Oh, Roger, that child, will she never grow up!” “Now Kathleen, you know she will. She’s just a young girl.” “Thirteen is old enough for a few more household chores. Melissa does all of her own chores and usually ends up doing her sister’s. Well, except the outdoor work, and I blame you for that, Roger Grant.” “I know, I know, but she loves being outside, and she’s almost as much help as Roger was, so who am I to complain.” “You spoil her rotten! But, I suppose being the tomboy she is, makes up for our boy… Well, she’ll come home when she gets hungry enough. Now come inside, dear, supper is waiting.” Roger knew that his wife’s mind wasn’t on Jenny anymore. She was thinking of Roger Jr., their only son, who joined in the fighting of that terrible war. He too couldn’t help thinking about the boy they lost. He had the good looks all their children were blessed with. By the time he was 16 he was over six foot tall, and had broad shoulders and the deep tan of a farmer. His golden blond hair was the colors of wheat and honey. He knew his son chaffed at the need to stay home and run the farm while his father was fighting. When he finally did join in the conflict, he received wounds serious enough to cause his death at Vicksburg. Roger shook his head. Such hopes and dreams a man puts into his sons, he thought. Now Jenny, there is another story. Always a sturdy tot, she had grown into a tall, strong girl, with the same golden hair her brother had once had. Now, though, at almost 14, she was beginning to round out as a girl should. She was developing soft curves and her waist seemed to be getting smaller. He must put his foot down and let Kathy dress her in proper clothes for a girl. Lately Jenny had been wearing Roger’s trousers left behind, but not yet thrown out. “Roger, supper is getting cold.” Well, he thought, and ran a hand through his hair, nature would have its way sooner or later, but as far as he was concerned, it could be much later. At the moment, Jenny was very concerned with nature, although not the nature of her body. Flat on her stomach with her dress up past her knees and her arms elbow deep in the chilly water of Willow Creek, she was after the biggest frog she had ever seen in her ‘special’ place. She knew she should be home now helping Missy set the table or some other sissy thing like that, but she was so close to catching that frog. “There! I have you now!” She sat back on her heels to examine her prize. It wasn’t very ladylike to be holding a frog on her lap, she thought. Just this afternoon she was scolded by mother again. She wondered why she couldn’t keep her mind on things a girl should. But she tricked Missy again and got out of doing all of those dreadful chores. Separating cream, making butter and pies and bread, she just dreaded the work. Lately though, Jenny had been wishing that she was more like her sister. Melissa was perfect in her eyes. Jenny felt awkward; her legs were long and slim, and her figure was non-existent. “Whoops!” the neglected frog leapt back into the creek. Jenny looked around her ‘special place’ and hugged her knees. She had found the spot last summer when she was looking for a place to hide so she wouldn’t have to help put up strawberry jam. There were two willow trees growing side by side, not six feet apart. Among their weeping branches Jenny could hide herself and giggle with mischief or cry her childhood problems to the little creek that ran beside the trees. She knew it was farther from home than she was allowed to go alone, and it wasn’t even their property, but she didn’t care and she was always careful no one found out how far she went. Since nobody lived on the old farm, she had claimed the spot as her own. She noticed how low the sun had gotten and knew supper was probably ready. Hurrying out of her hiding place, she smoothed her dress and flung her arms out. She twirled and ran across the clearing. It was May 1866 and this month, in fact, in just two weeks, Jenny would turn fourteen years old. She had asked her father if she would have to stop helping him and do all those girl things that her mother was trying to teach her. He simply told her that someday she would want to do all those things and that mother was just helping her to learn the correct way to do them. She had looked at him skeptically then. She didn’t think she would ever want to do all the things a woman had to do and she fought against learning how to do them. But now she was really growing up to be a woman, so she thought she might as well at least try. Maybe, she thought, she could do both the farm work and the woman’s work. Yes! Maybe she could. She was just coming around the barn as she saw her father entering the front door of their home. It had been the home her father was born in, and she loved the stories about it. Her grandfather and grandmother had finished the construction of it in 1826 and on the day they had finished it, Grandmother Grant announced to her husband that they were expecting their first and what was to be their only child. That child was Jenny’s father, Roger, named after a distant relative in the east the Jenny had never met. The house was very large, the elderly Grants hoping to fill the home with their children, but it allowed Jenny and Missy to have their own rooms. There were three large rooms downstairs and four bedrooms upstairs. The kitchen was a separate addition of the house but still connected by a short, enclosed walkway. The big front sitting room still had most of her grandmother’s favorite furniture in it, but Kathleen had added her own touch to it. There was a dining room just beyond the front sitting room and Kathy had redone everything in it after she and Roger had inherited the house. The walls were papered with a pattern of pale green willows, and the curtains were white with many ruffles. The furniture was just as dark as the walls were light. The heavy mahogany table and chairs, the china cabinet with glass doors filled the room. The den, which you could enter from both rooms, was all masculine. Roger had collected many books over the years and it was in this room they were kept. There was also a big easy chair and a rather uncomfortable couch. Near the far wall was his huge desk. It was placed under two big windows and on either side there were bookcases that went all the way to the corners of the room and were built in from floor to ceiling. Just now the family, minus Jenny, was well into their meal. Jenny filled her arms with firewood, took a deep breath and went in the kitchen. “I’ve brought the firewood, Mother!” Jenny called and waited for the scolding she was sure would come. Kathleen knew her daughter expected her usual lecture, but one look at Roger and she knew it would be pointless. She would be off tomorrow doing the same boyish things she did today and every day. “Thank you dear. Hurry and wash up before your supper gets too cold.” She finally said. Although they never discussed it in detail, Kathleen felt much the same as Roger on the subject of Jenny. She knew Jenny would one day become a woman, she was only afraid that Jenny wouldn’t learn all the feminine things needed before she reached that womanly state. Jenny ran upstairs to her room. She filled the basin with a splash of water and quickly washed her face and hands and combed the dried grass and leaves out of her hair. She found that she was hungry after all since she wasn’t worried about getting into trouble. She slowed her decent as she reached the bottom of the stairs, she heard her father in the middle of a conversation about new neighbors. The nearest house was on the same property that her ‘special place’ was. “Who’s moving in? Where are they from? It’s not the old Sim’s place is it?” Jenny interrupted. “Jenny! Your manners! Please sit down and just listen” her mother admonished. “As I was saying,” Father smiled at Jenny and began again, “there is a widow with three sons moving into, yes, the old Sim’s place. I understand their name is McCloud. I believe Mrs. McCloud lost her husband in the war. Her boys are near grown. John delivered seed today and told me about them, or all he knew. It seems they don’t talk too much. He had to ask a lot of questions to find out what he did. Two of the boys are big strapping fellows, and handsome too.” He winked at the girls. “The third boy is a might skinny, but just as good looking. He said the two younger boys are twins, couldn’t tell them apart if it wasn’t for one being strong and the other not. The oldest boy was in charge, just walked in the store, made a list of the things they needed and told John to deliver the supplies to the old Sim’s place as soon as he could. “John said they were all about matching our ages. Mrs. McCloud looked to be about your age Kathy, and the twins were about 16 or 17.” Jenny had been pushing her food around on her plate. Surely if someone moved onto the property, she would not be able to keep the secret of ‘her’ place for long. “May I be excused?” she asked. She wanted to think about what she should do about this grave situation. “Aren’t you feeling well, Jenny? You scarcely touched your supper.” Mother’s concern evident in her voice. “I’m fine. I’m just not very hungry.” “All right, you may go, don’t forget to do your reading and numbers, and don’t daydream your time away.” “I promise.” Jenny walked slowly up the stairs to her room, chewing on a hangnail. By the time she reached the top of the stairs, she had decided she would just have to visit them to see for herself. Having come to a decision, she closed the door to her room and got out her reading book. She ran down the lane and out the gate, golden hair flowing. She was finally going to get a chance to see the McCloud’s. It seemed one thing after another happened to foil her plans these past two weeks. First, she caught cold, probably from dancing in the clearing with her shoes off. Then the milk cow decided to have her calf, and Jenny tried all day to sneak out of the house to watch the birth. But her mother seemed to be watching extra close that day, telling her it was unseemly for young ladies to be involved with the livestock. But now, on her birthday, Mother had shooed Jenny out of the house. She was peeking here and there, looking for her gift, and sticking her fingers in her birthday cake batter, when her mother finally sent her out to make herself useful helping Father. Instead, Jenny thought this would be the perfect chance to meet the new neighbors. As soon as she turned around the bend in the road, she ducked into the woods. She knew these woods as well as her own backyard and this would be the shortest way to the old Sim’s place. She skipped and strolled along, humming to herself. Every now and then she would stoop to pick the delicate white flowers that grew wild here in the timber. She didn’t have a welcoming gift and these were some of her favorite flowers. She was sure Mrs. McCloud would like them. “Your trespassing you know, little girl. Are you lost?” a deep voice came from above her. She stood up and saw a very big, good looking man on a large, beautiful chestnut stallion. Straightening her back and squaring her shoulders, she said, “I’m not lost, and I’m not a little girl, I’m 14,” she tossed her head, “I’m going to visit our neighbors, the McCloud’s, they live just over there.” She pointed toward the old Sim’s house. “Ah, you must be one of the Grant girls. I’m Paul McCloud. I’m heading home now, hop up and you can ride the rest of the way if you like.” He made her strangely uncomfortable, sitting here on the prancing stallion. Ad he was looking at her with the most incredible eyes she had ever seen. They seemed to have many colors; brown, yellow, green and gray, but they were most beautiful. Those eyes were framed by thick black lashes; so long they could have been a girl’s, and his hair was so black it looked almost blue in some places. “Uh, no, thank you. I’d rather walk, uh, so I could pick some more flowers. For your mother.” She stammered. “All right.” He shrugged. “I’ll ride on ahead and let them know you’re coming. What’s your name?” “Jennifer Grant. But everyone calls me Jenny.” She smiled a little. “Ok, Jenny Grant, I’ll see you soon.” He smiled in return and Jenny felt her heart turn over. She didn’t pick anymore flowers though. And she walked slower than her usual long, boyish stride, her mind was on Paul McCloud. He looked very old, about twenty, she guessed, but she was fourteen, that’s almost grown. Mother had married Daddy when she had just turned seventeen. Three years was a nice amount of time for Mr. McCloud to get to know her she thought. In her one-sided plans, she had become Mrs. Paul McCloud, had their own place, and several children by the time she reached the gate to the old Sim’s place. At the side of the house there was a young man closer to her age splitting logs. She supposed this was one of the twins. He was very good looking also, but to Jenny not nearly as much as Paul. “Hello!” She called. “I’m Jenny, Jenny Grant, your neighbor. I met Mr. McCloud in the woods and he said he’d tell you I was coming.” “Yes ma’am.” He wiped his hands down the front of his legs and extended his hand. “I’m Michael, Paul’s brother. Come on in and I’ll introduce you to Mother.” The McCloud home was about half the size of Jenny’s home. No one had lived in it since before the war, so it was pretty run down the last time Jenny saw it. But the new owners had done wonders in the couple of weeks they were here. The steps were repaired, it had a fresh coat of white-wash and the holes in the roof weren’t there anymore. It looked warm and friendly now, Jenny had always thought it was a little scary before. As they stepped onto the porch, Michael was telling her that his mother had been having a bad time since their father died and sometimes she forgets that they have moved. Michael was so friendly and open with her that she liked him right away. If she was allowed to visit often, it would be like having a brother again. Michael opened the door and Jenny walked into the parlor. It was small but very cozy. On her right she could see into the bedroom, there was a large four poster bed covered with a well worn, heavy quilt. Straight ahead of her was an opening that led to a light, sunshiny kitchen. She looked around the room and saw a small, dark-haired woman. The woman was sitting on a rocking chair in front of the fireplace, working some embroidery. “Mother, we have a visitor. This is Miss Jenny Grant. She is our new neighbor. Jenny, this is my mother, Betty McCloud.” “How do you do, ma’am.” Jenny curtsied. The woman stood and put her hand out to Jenny. “My, what a charmin’ child! Michael, you didn’t tell me we had new neighbors. You come right over here and sit down, honey. Michael, you go fetch Betsy and tell her we’ll be needin’ refreshments.” “Betsy’s gone Mother, remember? I’ll get some tea.” “No, no, please don’t bother,” Jenny said, “I can only stay a little while. I just wanted to meet you and give you these flowers. As soon as the planting is done, Mother, Daddy, my sister and I will come over and welcome you properly.” “Why surely you can stay and have one little ‘ol cup of tea.” Mrs. McCloud argued. “No really, I have to go home. You see, it’s my birthday and…” “Your birthday! How nice! Why, I remember my fifteenth birthday. Papa gave a big party and lit up the whole house. That’s when I met your father, Michael. Oh Jenny dear, you must meet Mathew. I’ll go fetch him.” “Mama,” Michael spoke gently, “Daddy’s gone now, remember? And Miss Grant must get back to celebrate her birthday.” Mrs. McCloud, her face stricken, turned and looked out the window, “Oh yes.” Jenny had never seen anyone change from a happy woman, remembering a happy childhood, to a woman who was like a ghost so quickly before. “It was nice to have met you, ma’am. I hope to visit you again soon.” But Mrs. McCloud didn’t answer or turn from the window. “I’ll see you out Miss Grant.” After they were away from the house, Michael said, “Sometimes Mother is like she used to be, then she remembers that Father is dead. She is a completely different person then. That terrible war, she never got over his death. I don’t think she’ll ever recover.” “Oh no, she will! My mother was much the same when she heard my brother, Roger was killed. She still gets sad sometimes, but not very often anymore. I’m sure your mother will get better, too.” “I hope your right, Miss Grant. Good bye, now. And you come again real soon.” Michael didn’t think his mother would ever recover. He had watched her change over the last five years, from when Mathew and Paul left their family, till now. At first his mother was afraid all the time that something would happen to them. Then, when word came in ’61 that Mathew was killed at Bull Run, she refused to accept it. Then, when Paul came home last year and his father didn’t, she just slipped away farther until she made her own little world where Father was ‘just out of the house.’ He was afraid for her health, too. The spacious plantation had been confiscated early in the war and later burned to the ground during Sherman’s march. They had moved to Illinois, hoping to start over. But she had barely made it through the winter. They were all hoping she would regain enough of her health to go on another year. “Who was that little brat snooping around here?” David, Michael’s twin asked. As friendly, kind and open as Michael was, David was just the opposite; sly, mean and hostile to everyone. People who got to know the McCloud family never could explain how two boys, who looked identical and were raised in the same home with the same parents, could be such opposites in character. The only difference in appearance the boys had was size, where Michael was strong and broad from hard work and a healthy appetite, David was lean and lanky, picking at his food, and refusing to do anything more strenuous than grooming himself in the morning. “You didn’t take her inside, did you?” “I introduced our new neighbor to our mother.” Michael answered coldly. “Damn Michael, you want everyone around to know we’ve got a raving lunatic for a mother?” “Mother is not a raving lunatic David, and if you call her that once more, I may take it upon myself to break your flapping jaw.” Michael said through gritted teeth. “She belongs in the nut house with crazy people like her and everyone who sees her knows it, only you and Paul keep hanging on to mama’s apron strings.” Michael growled and jumped over the wood pile, landing on David. It was a very short struggle; so much greater was Michael’s strength than David’s. “I ought to kill you and be done with it. If you weren’t my brother I would, but someday someone is going to do that for me. In the meantime, you keep your foul mouth shut about Mother or I’ll shut it for you.” “Break it up you two,” Paul held each boy by the shoulder, “time to go in and start the meal. Michael, I want a word with you.” David walked away grumbling. He might take on Michael because he knew that his twin would never carry out his threats, Michael was too soft-hearted. But his older brother he would never outwardly cross. Since Paul had come home, things had been different; he didn’t get everything his way anymore. Paul had changed in the years he was gone. He had hardened, and any orders he gave, he expected to be followed. David had vowed the day Paul had given him a beating because he refused to hitch the horses to the wagon that he would someday get even. As he walked away he was devising new ways to bring him misery. “Michael, did a young lady, a Miss Grant, arrive here alright? I got tied up with that new fence and didn’t get a chance to come back.” “Yeah, she made it here all in one piece. She is a very nice girl. I took her inside and Mother had one of her forgetting spells. But Miss Grant was very encouraging. She said she lost a brother in the war and her mother eventually was able to move on. If the rest of the family is like her, we’ll have no problems here.” “Good. I don’t think I could hold my temper again if someone started treating Mother like they did in St. Louis.” “Don’t worry Paul, I have a feeling about this place. I think we’ll make it here.” “Let’s hope so, I don’t think Mother could stand to move again.” It might not be so bad having neighbors after all, Jenny thought. Their southern accents might be a problem for some – the war hadn’t been over that long. The Grant family was more forgiving than some, even though they had lost a loved one. And even though Mrs. McCloud was a little strange, she was very friendly and kind. Michael was just a couple of years older than her, but he didn’t treat her like a child, he had even caller her ‘Miss Grant.’ Then she thought of Paul McCloud. He didn’t come home while she was visiting, so she didn’t get a chance to see him again. So tall and handsome he was. Even astride his horse she could tell he was a large man. She guessed he would probably be at least six and a half feet tall. His shoulders were broad and muscular. He had left his shirt open at the neck and the sleeves were rolled up as far as they would go, and even then the material looked as though it would burst at the seams if he should bend his arms. His face was tanned and smooth, he wore no mustache as her father did. But mostly Jenny remembered his eyes, the strangely unique color, and the way her heart fluttered when he smiled at her. She was so deep in thought that she didn’t see Melissa coming down the lane to meet her. Missy was a year older than Jenny. A very pretty girl, she was not as tall as Jenny, and very frail looking, due to a bout with rheumatic fever when she was eight. It had affected her every winter since. She had a pretty face, with a small nose and large, dark brown eyes that were almost black. Her hair was the same color as her mother’s, a dark brown with reddish tints that emerged in the sunlight. “Hi Jenny! Mother sent me to look for you. Lunch is ready.” “Alright, let’s hurry. I’m starved!” “No, wait a minute Jenny. I want to give you my present now, I made it when I was sick last winter.” She pulled a small object wrapped in tissue paper out of the pocket of her pinafore, and gave it to Jenny. Jenny hugged her sister and opened the gift. It was a snowy white handkerchief with two inches of tatting around the edges. On one corner of the linen square were the initials J G embroidered in dark blue. Jenny smoothed it on her hand, it was perfectly made for Melissa was an expert with a needle. “Oh Missy. It’s beautiful. I’ll keep it always, and I promise not to use it to wipe mud off my face.” She laughed. The girls had a healthy attitude about themselves. They teased each other about the boyishness of one and the primness of the other. It was the way they were, and in spite of the difference in their appearance and personalities, they were very close. The rest of the afternoon past with the three women puttering in the kitchen. Kathleen cooking and baking and the girls helping when instructed. Supper was the big meal of the day with all of Jenny’s favorites prepared for her; fried chicken, boiled potatoes in lots of melted butter, tiny creamed peas with little onions mixed in them. Jenny’s favorite cake was an apple spice recipe that had been handed down through the family from the time before they came from France. After clearing the table, Mother brought in two packages from the front room. One was a long, flat package tied with a yellow ribbon. The other was a small box tied with a pink ribbon. Jenny’s eyes opened wide as Mother set them on the table in front of her. “Thank you Mother.” She said, then with a smile, tore eagerly into the larger of the two gifts. Inside was a pale blue satin dress with a royal blue sash. She stood and held it against her, the folds of the skirt brushed the floor. “Mother! It’s long, it’s to the floor! Oh thank you Mother, thank you!” she gave her mother a hug and twirled around the room, dancing and posing for her family. “Open the other one, Jenny!” Missy reminded her. “Oh I almost forgot the other one!” Jenny carefully laid the dress across the back of a chair and opened the small box. She placed the pink ribbon with the yellow, for the ribbons were actually gifts also. Inside the box was a delicate necklace she recognized as one of Grandmother Grant’s pieces of jewelry. It was her favorite piece of all her grandmother’s jewels. The gold chain was as light as a thread, three teardrop shaped blue sapphires hung in the center, one large stone flanked by two smaller ones, and in between there were tiny diamonds. They twinkled and shown with a thousand little lights. “Oh Mother, Grandmother’s necklace. Oh thank you Mother, thank you Daddy!” “Now Jenny, your father and I expect you to wear the jewels proudly and graciously.” Kathleen had given Melissa a piece of Mother Grant’s jewelry when she turned fourteen, and now was Jenny’s turn. Eventually the girls would own all of the valuable collection, so she decided to give them some of the pieces now. This piece in particular, seemed to be perfect for Jenny. The blue and white stones would bring out the blue in Jenny’s eyes. “I promise. May I go and try on everything?” “Only if you’ll come down and show us when you’re all gussied up.” Laughed her father. “Of course I will, sir!” Jenny bobbed a curtsy. “Come on Missy!” The two ran up the stairs to Jenny’s room. Melissa sat on the bed while Jenny flung her clothes off. “How many petticoats should I put on, Missy?” “Why not all of them? How many do you have?” “I don’t know, five, I think. Is that enough?” “Probably. Let’s see.” Missy helped her put on the lacy undergarments that Jenny owned but hardly ever wore, preferring the more sensible everyday wear. “There, that’s the last one.” She finished tying the petticoats’ ribbon. “Good. Now let’s get the dress.” “Silly, now you have to dress your hair. Here, sit down and I’ll help you. And stop fidgeting or I’ll never get it right.” Jenny sat as still as she could in front of her dressing table while Missy quickly arranged a few simple curls on the side of her head, sticking pins here and there, and finished by tucking a blue velvet bow just inside one curl. “Now you can get the dress.” Missy allowed. Jenny raised her arms as Missy slid the dress down over her body. She laced the back, tied the sash and stood back. “Jenny, you look beautiful.” She sighed. Jenny turned around to look in the mirror. The dress swished around her ankles. Missy was right. How could a dress make so much difference? The bodice fit snugly and pushed her breasts up to swell over the low neckline. The sleeves were off the shoulder and showed much more of Jenny than she knew she had. The contrasting sash accentuated her small waist and the gathers of the skirt made her hips seem fuller. The way Missy had arranged her hair was a style for young ladies and it made her look a couple of years older. Jenny’s cheeks were pink from excitement and her eyes were sparkling. Missy fastened the necklace around her neck and suddenly she looked like a grown woman. The center stone rested just above the center of her breasts and the blue sapphires made her eyes seem even bluer than they already were. “Wait till Mother sees this! We’ll have to go to a party or something to show you off.” Missy said. “Jenny, you’re all grown up. You should always dress like this.” “Do you really think I’m pretty? I always thought you were the pretty one. I’m so tall and thin, at least you have a figure.” “Jenny, look at yourself! You’ve been wearing little girl clothes and Roger’s trousers for too long.” “Do you think a man would think I’m pretty?” Jenny was thinking of Paul now. “Jenny,” Melissa sighed, “looking the way you do now, you could walk into a room and hand pick any man you wanted.” “I think I’ll like being a girl after all.” She said after a few moments. “Come on Jenny, let’s go show Mother and Daddy.” Once more herself, Jenny giggled and the girls left arm in arm.