Stephanie Grace Whitson - [Quilt Chronicles] by Shadow on the Quilt

kitchen,” Martha said as she worked. “She said Marshal Hastings had the Burnhams come out.”
    Juliana allowed a grunt. “Did she tell you he had the nerve to
tell
us when the funeral should be scheduled so that he isn’t inconvenienced?”
    Martha paused before adding. “It takes a lot to make Miss Lydia angry.”
    So. Aunt Lydia was upset, too. Somehow that was a comfort. Juliana opened her eyes and looked at Martha in the mirror. “Can you imagine? After all the money Sterling has poured into that church.” She paused. “I know it’s not supposed to be about the money, but—honestly. It seems like they would at least make the effort.”
    “Did the reverend say he wouldn’t?”
    “No. But he whined. I
hate
whining. What does he expect us to do?”
    “Miss Theodora said you’re not having Mr. Sutton brought here at all.” Laying the brush down, Martha began the process of braiding Juliana’s dark, waist-length hair.
    “I suppose she’s upset with me about that.”
    Martha shook her head. “Just surprised. You know Miss Theodora. She does like to abide by the rules.”
    I’ve lived by the rules, too. It doesn’t seem to have done me much good.
“I don’t want to hurt her, but—I can’t. Not here.” Martha looked up, still holding a braid in her hand. Their eyes met. “You know how things were between Sterling and me these past few months.” Martha barely moved, but the slight nod was enough.
    “There’s something I—I need you to see.” Juliana got up and retrieved the locket and handed it to Martha. “Open it.”
    Martha gasped. “Lord, have mercy.”
    Juliana’s eyes burned with still more tears. She sniffed. “I want to protect the aunts, and heaven knows I don’t want to cause still more gossip. But a wake in my parlor? No.” She reached for another handkerchief. Somehow, she managed to choke out the story of how she’d found the locket. And when.
    “Dear child.” Martha closed the locket and put it back before returning to braiding Juliana’s hair. Finally, she said, “I know it’s hard for you to believe right now, but in time you’ll be able to remember the good, too.” She reached for a hairpin and tucked it into place.
    “I—am—so—angry.” The words came out in measured bursts.
    “Nothing wrong with a little righteous anger. Seems to me you have a right to it.”
    “You should have seen Francis Burnham looking over this house. For a moment I thought she might ask for a tour.” Juliana shook her head. “I will
not
have people like her using Sterling’s death as an excuse to see my home.”
    Martha nodded. “I know you feel like you’re standing in front of a big, yawning hole, just about to fall in. But that’s not going to happen. You’re going to be fine. You’re a strong woman.”
    Juliana closed her eyes. “I don’t feel strong.”
    “And still, having just learned what you learned, having lost the chance to do a thing about it—you’re headed to the funeral parlor to make plans. You are protecting the aunts. You are doing your duty by a man who didn’t do his. Lots of women would just call for the doctor and go to bed.”
    “Last night when I found that locket, I wished I could be the kind of woman who faints in a crisis,” Juliana said. “But I’m not.”
    “That’s what I mean. Strong.”
    “Yet I fled the room earlier today and left Sterling’s aunts to deal with the Burnhams.”
    “To hear Miss Lydia tell it, they were happy to do so.”
    “Perhaps, but it wasn’t really fair.”
    “Could be they liked you trusting them. Could be that was a comfort to them. Knowing that even though they’re
Mr.
Sutton’s blood, they have a strong bond with you, too.”
    Juliana forced a smile. “I can’t imagine life without the aunts.”
    Martha nodded. “That’s good. You all need each other right now.” She handed Juliana a hand mirror so that she could check her hair.
    Juliana waved it away. “I’m sure it’s fine.” Taking a