Garnet Harvey graduates
from an orphanage and lands a job as a nanny for three motherless girls.
Chester Paul, a wealthy businessman, lost his
wife in childbirth. After a long period of mourning, he hires a nanny to take
care of his children while he works in the city. He remains involved in the
girls’ daily lives, and comes to care for their new caregiver.
When Garnet’s guardian discovers the situation,
she insists on a trial separation. If their feelings remain strong, how can
Garnet be introduced to Chester’s social circle? How will secrets from Garnet’s
past affect their growing love for each other?
Is it strong enough to grow as beautiful as the
Colorado Columbine?
COLORADO
COLUMBINE
By
Darlene
Franklin
The Lord is my portion, saith my soul;
therefore will I hope in him.
Lamentations 3:24
Jefferson
County, Colorado 1911
The back of Garnet
Harvey’s neck prickled as if someone were watching her as she walked down the
long circular drive to the three-story mansion. Chester Paul’s house was fancy
indeed. She hoped she would make a good impression on whomever was watching.
Stray
hairs from the bun on top of her head tickled her face and neck. The magazine
had promised the easy-to-care style would keep her hair in place. Garnet hoped
it would make her look serious enough to be a nanny to three young girls.
The
door came into view. “Lord, help me a do a good job for You and for Sister Carmela.”
A
broad-chested lady with white hair and matching apron greeted her. “Oh, good.
You must be Miss Harvey. I’m Mrs. Griffin, the cook. Come on in. Mr. Paul is
eager to meet you.”
Mr. Paul.
Garnet’s heart dropped. Her opportunity to move out of the girls’ home and find
meaningful employment lay in his lap. Would he remember any of the times they
had met before? “I hope to meet the girls as well.”
The
cook chuckled, as if she’d discerned Garnet’s nervousness. “Mr. Paul is a kind
man, although he’s a lion where those girls are concerned.” She looked Garnet
up and down. “You’ll do fine. Sister Carmela wouldn’t send anyone but the very
best.”
Garnet
swallowed hard. “Where do I find Mr. Paul?”
“I’ll
take you.” A man of average height, dressed in an impeccable suit and wearing wire
rim glasses, entered the kitchen. “I am Mr. Brooks.”
He
had to be the butler.
“Mrs.
Griffin rang as soon as you arrived. Follow me.” He took Garnet’s valise and
left.
She
fell in behind. He stopped outside the kitchen, where a variety of coats hung
from pegs. “Your valise will be safe here.” He set her bag down and assisted
her with her coat.
He
navigated her through the kitchen and dining rooms and moved silently across the
back the grand entrance. A family portrait caught her attention, but Mr. Brooks
kept her moving forward and down a hallway and knocked on the door. “Miss
Harvey is here to see you, sir.”
“Thank
you, Brooks.”
When
the butler left, Garnet got her first look in a long time at her prospective
employer. The years weighed on him—the loss of a wife would do that to a
man—but he was as handsome as she remembered.
Bookshelves
lined one wall. A small table held an empty vase, begging for flowers, and open
books. Underneath a high window, she spotted a box of toys. He brought his
daughters in here?
“Please
sit down, Miss Harvey.” Mr. Paul came around the desk and held the chair for
her. “In spite of what you might have heard, I’m not an ogre.”
“Only
a lion where your daughters are concerned.” The words escaped, and she smiled
nervously.
Her
smile appeared to put him at ease. “Ah. You have a sense of humor. That’s an
important quality of someone who works with small children. Humor, imagination,
and a great deal of patience. Would you agree?” He returned to his seat and
tapped his desk pad with a pencil.
“Of
course.”
“What other qualities would you consider
important?”
Was
he asking her for how she intended to care for his children?
“In
my experience”—slight emphasis on experience—
“children also do well with routine and discipline.”
“Are
you a stern governess? I don’t believe it.”
Garnet’s
cheeks grew warm, probably as red as her hair. “I’m stern when needed, but it
is not very often.” She straightened her posture. “I’ve been dorm mother to ten
girls under my care at the Children’s Home. They ranged in age from age five to
twelve.”
“But
my daughters—”
“Before
that, I worked in the home’s nursery, with children up to age five. I have wide
experience working with children, girls in particular.” As she spoke, she
regained confidence. “I understand you have three daughters, ages one,
three-and-a-half, and five. I look forward to meeting them.” She had thrown
down the gauntlet. He could take her, or send her back to Sister Carmela.
Unperturbed,
he studied her as closely as she had studied him. Of course he did. When he
didn’t speak, she guessed at the conversation going on in his head. Sixty
seconds passed before he spoke again. “Sister Carmela speaks highly of you. I
was expecting someone a little older, with more experience—someone settled.”
Was
he afraid she would marry and abandon his children? “I consider my age an
advantage. I have more energy to keep up with children at play.”
“Play.”
Standing with a sigh, he walked to the window that overlooked a large lawn
behind the house. “It’s been too long since we’ve heard the laughter of
children in this house.” He shook his head and turned around. “Miss Harvey, you
appear to be an excellent candidate for my children’s nanny. But first you must
meet them. They must also approve.”
Good.
She had passed the first hurdle. But what man wanted his children’s approval of
their nanny? She applauded the approach.
Mr.
Paul led her to the stairs leading up to the landing. “The nursery is on the
second floor. Your room will be next to the girls’, of course, in case they
have need of you in the night.”
She
nodded, although the grandeur of the house drew her attention away. It must
surpass even Molly Brown’s mansion in Denver. Her family’s house had quality
furniture, passed through several generations—now lost. The orphanage used
pieces designed for function more than for beauty. But these pieces, oh my:
leaves, fruit, flowers, carved in great detail on tufted chairs and divans—a
garden done in wood.
On
the second floor, a young lass with a cap and apron passed by, her head turned
away. Halfway down the hall hung a portrait of a beautiful young woman, with
hair the color of oak, a medium brown with hints of sunshine. Garnet couldn’t
stop staring.
He
paused and looked at the church. “My late wife. I want our children to see her
frequently and remember her always.”
“How
long ago did she die?” Garnet asked.
~ ~
Chester’s throat
constricted at Miss Harvey’s question. Talking about Marie hurt him still.
“Ten
months ago.” He didn’t tell her about the fever which had claimed her life,
about the fear he might also have lost baby Maude.
“I’m
so sorry.” She didn’t speak again as they headed down the hall. He didn’t mind
her silence, as long as she connected with the girls, helping them return to
joy from the quiet sadness of their faces betrayed that mattered most.
“This
will be your room.” He pointed to a room with a connecting door to the nursery.
After
a swift glance, she stepped forward. “Then this must be the nursery.”
She
reached for the door, but he got there first. Behind the door, he heard the
pitter-patter of the girls’ feet, and it brought a smile to his face.
He
flung the door open. “Daddy!” Margaret, his middle girl, ran forward first and
thrust her arms in the air for him to pick her up.
Mary
followed, holding a squirming Maude in her arm. Although the toddler had grown too
big for Mary to carry, she still played mother
to her little sister.
Maude
squirmed to the floor and took two-three-four steps to reach him, her unsteady
gait as victorious as it was funny. “Look at my girl go.” He eased Margaret to
the floor and picked his baby up, kissing his baby on the cheek. She tucked her
head against his shoulder.
He
bent over and hugged Mary close. “How are you doing today, Mary-girl?”
Her
eyes strayed to Miss Harvey. “Who’s she?”
She
stepped forward before he could speak. “I’m Miss Garnet, and I hope to take
care of you.” She knelt so she was eye-to-eye with Mary. “You must be Mary.
You’ve done a good job taking care of your sisters.”
“We
don’t need help.” Mary’s chin went up.
“I
can see that.”
Chester
loved the way Miss Harvey took Mary so seriously.
“But
maybe I can make it easier for you. And I tell you what.” Miss Harvey—Garnet,
her hair demanded she be called by her given name—lowered her voice. “I always need help. It means a lot to know
you’ll be here if I need help. Will you do that for me?” Garnet smiled and held
out a hand.
Mary
stared at the adult-sized hand and glanced at her father, as if asking for
permission. He nodded.
“I
will.” Mary shook Garnet’s hand.
Chester
felt Garnet’s desire to pull Mary close and hug her, but she resisted the temptation.
With a woman like this, maybe his sweet Mary, the girl most like her mother,
would laugh once again.
Margaret
stepped between Mary and Garnet. She never liked being out of the limelight for
long. Mary hovered, ready to pull away her sister if she made a wrong move.
“Are
you going to be our new mother?” Margaret asked.
“Margaret.”
The name whistled through Chester’s teeth, as quick and rough as a winter wind.
“Oh,
no, Margaret. I’m going to be your nanny, if you and your sisters agree.”
Chester
wanted to laugh at the confusion on his daughter’s face. Mary said, “That’s silly.
Daddy will decide if you’re our nanny or not.”
Garnet
glanced up at him. “I’ll tell you a secret. He already offered me the job, but
only if you agree.”
“What’s
a nanny?” Margaret asked.
Maude
reached out and touched Garnet’s hair. She tugged out a strand that hung down
the side of her face, softening the strict lines the bun had created. Chester
held his speech, waiting to see how Garnet responded.
Garnet
focused on his youngest daughter. “You like my hair? It’s pretty and bright,
like yours.”
Maude
reached out again but Garnet laced her fingers around Maude’s hands. “But you
can’t grab somebody’s hair. Not mine or anyone else’s.”
Maude
reached again. Chester shook his head, and she looked at the floor,
embarrassed.
Margaret
giggled, then she grew serious. “So what’s a nanny?” she repeated her question.
“I’ll
take care of you. I’ll wake you and help you get dressed. I’ll be with you all
the time you’re awake. We’ll do fun things, too.”
“Won’t
Daddy take care of us anymore?” Margaret’s lips trembled.
Chester’s
heart broke. “I’ll see you every day, sweetheart. But I have to spend more time
in town.”
“She
sounds like a mother.” Mary’s voice was even and soft—unfriendly. “I don’t want
another mother.”
“I
will never take your mother’s place.” Garnet put her hands on Mary’s shoulders.
“I lost my mother, too, and no one could ever take her place. But someone helped
me after she died. She’s special to me.
I want to do that for you.” She squeezed her fingertips together while
she waited for Mary’s response.
Mary
lifted her chin. “We can try it. Margaret?” The two girls nodded their heads in
unison.
“Wonderful.
I need to settle into my room, but I’ll start spending time with you. . .”
Garnet looked at Chester.
He
smiled to himself. “So the decision has been made. Good. Welcome to our family,
Miss Harvey. Girls, she’ll be with you tomorrow.”
“Yea!”
Margaret hugged Garnet, and Mary shook her hand. Chester knew he’d made the
right decision in hiring Garnet.
“Say
goodbye. The maid will continue to care for you until tomorrow morning.” He
hugged and kissed them each, handing Maude back to Mary. Mary held tight, as if
afraid she would drop her. Thank God he’d found someone to help them all.
“Come, Miss Harvey. Let me show you around.” Chester took Garnet’s arm and led
her through the door, eager to give her a tour of his home.
Thanks for sharing the first chapter of Colorado Columbine with my readers today, Darlene!
Best-selling hybrid author Darlene Franklin's greatest claim to fame is that she
writes full-time from a nursing home. This year she expects to reach fifty
unique titles in print and she’s also contributed to more than twenty nonfiction
titles. Her column, “The View Through my Door,” appears monthly in Bookfun Magazine. Her most recent titles
are Colorado
Columbine and Love's Turning Point.
Readers, leave a comment for a chance to win an ebook of Colorado Columbine! Learn more about Darlene and her books at the following locations!
Links:
Twitter:
@darlenefranklin
