blessed to have had two sets of parents who cared for her. They were the best of people, and she had learned so much from them.
But there were times she would have liked to know more about her biological father, although the word father seemed like the wrong word entirely. She knew he had been hanged after a trial in Oregon City. She’d later read in the archives of the newspaper that the trial hadn’t really been fair. The government had chosen the Indians to stand trial based on the assurance of some of the women who’d been at the mission. Most felt the men chosen were guilty—after all, they were Indians and in the area at the time of the attack. Some were less convinced. Nevertheless, they were found guilty and hanged. After this event, however, nothing more was mentioned about the guilty, and Faith had no way to learn anything about her history. At first she was frustrated by this, but as time went on, she found God had given her a sense of peace. Isaac Browning had been a blessing in her life. And the only father who really mattered was the one who had taken her in as his own, and Lance Kenner was a wonderful man.
Faith smiled as the trolley neared her stop. Lance had always encouraged her, even in her endeavor to become a certified doctor and surgeon. There had never been the slightest bit of condemnation in his demeanor that she wasn’t seeking a more feminine path. He knew what she was up against with the laws and her heritage, but Faith knew that if she sought to become a wife and mother, her father and family would support those efforts as well. They would always encourage her, no matter the path, as long as it was one that honored God first.
As Captain Gratton’s smile flashed through her mind yet again, she reminded herself that the love and support of her parents was all the family she needed.
CHAPTER 5
Mrs. Weaver joined the boardinghouse residents for breakfast the next morning. It was Faith’s first real opportunity to meet the older woman, and she found her quite charming. Virginia Weaver’s appearance suggested frailty and shyness, but once she joined the conversation, Faith quickly saw that she was neither frail nor shy.
“I do love your fried potatoes and gravy,” the older woman declared in her Southern drawl. “It reminds me of home. Mother loved fried potatoes.”
“I thought Southerners were more given to grits and hominy,” Clementine said, scooping out a portion of sausage gravy.
“Oh, there is a love for those foods as well,” Mrs. Weaver said, smiling. “As a small child, I used to sneak out to the slave quarters to sample grits and gravy. They were a favorite of mine, but my mother refused to serve them, declaring grits to be slave food.”
“How sad.” Faith thought of her own upbringing, which encouraged sampling all types of foods. “I mean, if something is good to eat, should it matter where it’s from or who has suggested it?”
“I’ve dealt with people like that as well,” Nancy joined in. “We once had a summer picnic at church. Quite a few wealthy people attend our church, and when I revealed that I had brought corn bread, you would have thought I’d committed a crime.”
“Corn bread is a staple for most homes,” Mimi said, shaking her head. “Why be offended?”
“It’s my experience that the wealthy, more snobbish folk are always offended by something. My corn bread was a success, however, and I had no reason to hold their thoughts against them. If they wanted only white bread, then that just left more corn bread for those who preferred it.”
Clementine laughed. “Those people only deny themselves. I’ve seen such behavior in their children as well, but I’ve always tried to broaden their experiences. We’ve studied various cultures this year. Nancy got me thinking about it when we went to the Fourth of July celebration last summer. I now keep track of my children’s cultural backgrounds, and we have a special unit on each one. Their mothers often make food for us or even bring in traditional clothing.”
“Good for you.” Faith speared another piece of sausage. “Education is the way to lessen prejudice. Let folks see that just because we have differences doesn’t mean we are bad or unacceptable. The sooner people put aside prejudices, the sooner we’ll have peace in our country.”
“It makes me sad to suggest that will never come,”