Passion's Timeless Hour by Vivian Knight-Jenkins

Author:Vivian Knight-Jenkins [Knight-Jenkins, Vivian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: United States, Vietnam War; 1961-1975, Nurses, Contemporary, Fiction, Romance, Historical, Time Travel
ISBN: 9780505520791
Google: fqMmJq2t3tUC
Amazon: 0505520796
Publisher: Love Spell
Published: 1992-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

''I . . . Good heavens, Jubadessa. How in the world am I to choose from all these?"

Kneeling on a dust cover amid a vivid pool of cloth, Rebecca surveyed the contents of the sizable cedar-lined hope chest. Inky velvet swam with yards of linen, praline silk brocaded in violet flowers, saffron-printed calico, pewter taffeta, and gauzy mauve chiffon.

"Well, miss. I think the best thing would be to select the ones that we find need the least alteration."

Rebecca inhaled deeply. The gowns had been carefully folded, layered between with white rose petals, orange blossoms, and protective herbs. The warm spring fragrance was a welcome addition to the stale coolness of the musty attic. "Alexander's mother owned the most beautiful gowns. It seems a shame to cut them up."

Jubadessa shook out a sedate broadcloth day dress. "Most things nowadays seem a crying shame. This isn't one of them. I only wish we'd thought of these clothes sooner. Mrs. Abigail and Miss Cordelia could have made use of them. Some flannel shirts and a new coat wouldn't hurt Monsieur either," she added, turning the day dress upside down and critically measuring the skirt's yardage. "And we will keep Mrs. Abigail busy turning the scraps into coverlets."

"Still, all things considered, it was nice of the lieutenant colonel to suggest I go through these."

Jubadessa eyed her almost as severely as the gown she'd been measuring. "His mama would have wished her things put to good use. Besides, that indigo nurse's uniform doesn't become you in the least."

She dropped the day dress to snatch up a back issue from a stack of Demorest's Monthly Magazine. Thumbing rapidly through the ladies' patterns, she said, "Now this ensemble, done up in the velvet and buttercream wool, with just a touch of silk puffing around the hem, would be perfect for you. I noticed a moth has been at the wool, but I think we can cut around the holes."

She thrust the drawing under Rebecca's nose for her inspection.

"Isn't that just a little bit too grand for me?" Rebecca questioned dubiously. What she really meant was that it looked terribly uncomfortable. She was accustomed to one of two things, the crisp line of a uniform, or the nonrestrictive hippie-style clothing of her own eramini dresses, blue jeans and halters, loose flowing caftans with Nehru collars.

"Not at all. But I suppose I could redesign the pattern to more closely resemble the suit Monsieur bur-r-r" Jubadessa quickly amended her statement. "The suit you lost, if you'd like."

Rebecca smiled. "Yes, I would. Thanks."

"You see," Jubadessa explained, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she concentrated on the pattern, "all we'd have to do is make the bodice more elongated, like a shirt front, and add a jacket. The skirt could . . ." Jubadessa stopped midsentence. Her words trailed off as she cocked her head to one side, listening.

"Did you hear that, miss?" she asked quietly.

"What? Guinevere barking?" Rebecca couldn't mistake the dawning alarm that registered on Jubadessa's smooth face.

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