A Haven for Her Heart

by Susan Anne Mason

  “I’m glad you realize that now.” Olivia crossed her arms. “Margaret and Patricia are nearing their due dates. That kind of stress could bring on early labor.” Perhaps if the man knew the women’s names, he would think of them as real people. “And Nancy, Cherise, and Jenny are just getting used to us.”

  Jenny, an extremely introverted girl, was the latest to arrive. Olivia suspected she may have been abused. She was only recently starting to let down her guard and join them for meals.

  He hung his head. “I apologize again. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

  The man seemed sincere, but she didn’t fully trust him.

  “I don’t suppose you know a good roofer? One who accepts payment in installments?”

  His dark brows shot together. “What happened to the roof?”

  “The city inspector found a problem, and in order to pass the next inspection, we need some extensive repairs.”

  He frowned. “I can ask around. Maybe one of my father’s clients might know an outfit.”

  She inclined her chin. “That would be appreciated.”

  “Is there anything else I can do?” He moved closer.

  Close enough for her to see the silver flecks in his eyes. She’d be a fool to be taken in by him again. “No, thank you. I think you’ve done quite enough for the time being.”

  Darius hated the mistrust evident in Olivia’s beautiful brown eyes. Hated that his impulsive action in bringing about the inspection had led to such dire consequences.

  But wasn’t that what he’d hoped would happen?

  He must seem like the biggest hypocrite imaginable—helping her with the leak one minute and complaining to the city about possible violations the next.

  “Thank you for hearing me out,” he said as he put on his hat. “I really do regret any harm my actions have brought about.”

  She pinned him with a hard stare. “If that’s true, you’ll convince your boss to leave us alone.”

  “All I can do is speak to him again. Try to make him consider another alternative.” He wished he could promise more, but even doing that much was a risk.

  The tightness around her mouth eased. “Thank you.”

  “There’s no guarantee, though. Mr. Walcott isn’t exactly the compromising type.” He hesitated at the front entrance, hating the idea that he might never see her again. But with no further excuse to prolong his stay, he tipped his hat. “Good-bye, Oliv . . . Miss Rosetti. I wish you all the best.”

  Shoving back a huge amount of regret, he let himself out the door and descended the stairs. He truly meant what he’d said. He did hope her home succeeded, yet he was at a loss to determine how he could reconcile that wish with Mr. Walcott’s demands.

  Engulfed in his unwanted thoughts, Darius barely acknowledged a woman coming up the walkway.

  Instead of passing him, she grabbed the sleeve of his jacket. “Is this Bennington Place?” Her voice sounded desperate, and she glanced nervously over her shoulder.

  “It is.”

  “Do you work here?” She wore a floral scarf over her head, covering the lower part of her face.

  Something about the woman stirred his protective instincts. “No, I don’t. But Miss Rosetti is inside. She can help you.” When he went to move away, she tightened her grip on his arm.

  “Please. I don’t think I can—” She crumpled into a heap at his feet.

  Alarm raced through him as he bent over the woman. The scarf fell away and he gasped. Bruises marred her cheek, and her lip was swollen and bloody.

  Hefting her into his arms, he rushed up the stairs and opened the door, not even bothering to knock. “We need help here!”

  Olivia appeared almost instantly. She gasped when she saw the woman in his arms.

  “Where should I put her?” he asked.

  “In the parlor.”

  Thankful he didn’t have to carry her up the stairs, Darius laid the woman on the sofa and placed a pillow beneath her head. He took out his handkerchief and gently blotted the blood from her mouth. Her cheek and eye seemed to swell right before his eyes. “She needs ice. And a doctor.”

  “Right away.” Olivia disappeared from the room.

  Darius removed the woman’s scarf and opened the buttons of her coat, unable to fathom why she would be wearing such a heavy garment in the summer. As he moved the fabric aside, understanding dawned. In all the uproar, he hadn’t noticed she was very pregnant.

  He returned his attention to her injuries. What had happened to her? Had she fallen? No, it looked like someone had beaten her.

  Disgust flooded his system at the thought of anyone harming a woman carrying a precious life within her. Who would be so despicable?

  Olivia returned with a basin of water and an ice pack. “Here, hold this against her cheek. Ruth is calling Dr. Henshaw. I told her it was an emergency.”

  While Darius did as she instructed, Olivia set the bowl down and wrung out a cloth. Gently she dabbed at the rest of the woman’s face, working to remove the dried-on blood and clean some of the scrapes.

  When the unconscious woman moaned, Olivia pulled away, depositing the cloth back into the basin.

  “Where did you find her?” she asked, turning her gaze to Darius at last.

  “She came up the walkway as I was leaving. She asked if this was Bennington Place and then collapsed.”

  Olivia walked around him to the end of the sofa. The woman’s large belly protruded so that her dress barely reached her knees. Olivia hesitated a moment before laying her palm on top of her stomach. She frowned, looking off into space for several seconds until the ridges in her forehead eased. “The baby’s moving. I hope that means it’s okay.” She removed the woman’s shoes, then gently pulled an afghan over her. “Who could have done this to her? Surely not her husband?”

  Darius moved the ice to a different position. “It’s possible. Not all men value their wives as they should.”

  “How incredibly sad.” Olivia brushed at her cheek, and he realized she was crying.

  Tears for a complete stranger.

  Darius couldn’t help but wonder how many other people would react to this woman with as much compassion.

  When the doorbell rang, Olivia jumped to answer it, wiping the traces of moisture from her face. The poor injured woman didn’t need Olivia blubbering all over the place. Nor did Dr. Henshaw.

  “Hello, Miss Rosetti.”

  “Doctor, please come in. The patient is in the parlor.”

  Dr. Henshaw removed his hat as he rushed into the room, barely pausing at the sight of Darius holding an ice pack to the woman’s cheek. “Mr. Reed? You’re here again.”

  “Seems I’m always around in times of emergency.” Darius rose, taking the ice with him. As he moved out of the doctor’s way, he quickly explained how he’d come upon the woman.

  Ruth entered the parlor in time to hear Darius’s story and stood beside Olivia while the doctor did an initial examination—listening to the woman’s heart, checking her pulse, and lifting her eyelids. Then he moved the stethoscope to her belly, frowning. When the lines around his eyes eased, Olivia breathed a sigh of relief. At least it seemed the baby was unharmed.

  “Do you know her name?” Dr. Henshaw rose from his position beside the sofa.

  “No. But perhaps you could check her pockets for some identification.”

  Dr. Henshaw reached over and rifled through the coat but came away empty-handed. “I’ll need you all to step out now while I do a more thorough exam.”

  “Certainly.” Olivia headed into the hallway, Darius and Ruth right behind her.

  “I have to get ready for an appointment,” Ruth said as she closed the parlor doors. “Can I leave you two to handle the situation?”

  “Of course,” Darius said. “I’ll stay as long as Olivia needs me.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Reed.”

  Once Ruth had gone upstairs, Olivia paced the hall floor, unsure what to do next. “I feel so helpless.”

>   Darius laid warm hands on her shoulders. “I’m sure Dr. Henshaw will know what to do.” He paused, his eyes intent on hers. “Would you like to pray for her?”

  She looked up and nodded, the steadying effect of his fingers calming her. “I would.”

  When he held out a hand, she took it, and the strength of his grip shored up her courage.

  He bowed his head. “Lord, please bless this woman and her child and grant them your healing grace. Thank you for bringing her here to this safe place. Please guide Dr. Henshaw to make the right diagnosis and give her the best treatment possible. Amen.”

  “Amen.” Olivia exhaled. “Thank you. That helped more than I imagined.”

  Darius looked down at their joined hands, then cleared his throat and released her.

  Instantly, she missed his warmth.

  Dr. Henshaw emerged from the parlor, a grim look on his face. “There’s bruising on the woman’s torso as well as her neck and face. It appears someone not only beat her but likely kicked her in the abdomen too.”

  Olivia fought back nausea at the thought. “What can we do for her, Doctor? Does she need a hospital?”

  “Her vital signs are normal, other than a slight elevation due to her circumstances. And the baby appears to be fine.” He replaced his tools in his bag. “I’d like to wait until she regains consciousness to assess her further, if that’s not a problem. There’s no need to move her for now.”

  “That’s fine,” Olivia said. “Would you like something to drink while you wait?”

  “I wouldn’t turn down a cup of your coffee, Miss Rosetti.” The doctor smiled.

  “Coming right up.”

  She escaped down the hall, glad for a task to keep her occupied. Her relief evaporated, however, when Mr. Reed followed her into the kitchen.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked. “You’re quite pale.”

  “I’m fine.” She tried to ignore him while she filled a pot with water and got out the tin of coffee.

  “I can stay if you think I might be of any help.”

  His sincere blue gaze did funny things to her pulse as she measured out the grounds. She tried hard to hold on to her anger, yet seeing him tend to the injured woman with such care made it that much harder.

  “I’m sure with Dr. Henshaw here, we’ll be fine,” she said.

  A flash of emotion, disappointment perhaps, flitted across his handsome features. “I hope she and the baby will be all right. Would you mind if I telephoned tomorrow to see how she is? I feel somewhat responsible since I was the one who brought her in.”

  “That would fine.” She turned on the flame under the coffeepot, then turned to face him. “Thank you for everything you did for her, Mr. Reed.”

  “It’s Darius, remember. And I only did what anyone else would do.”

  She shook her head. “Not many people would help a stranger. In fact, some people would purposely go out of their way to avoid them.” She paused to study him. “Despite our differences, I do believe you’re a good person.” Deep down, she sensed this to be true. He’d protected her at the fundraiser, helped with the leaking sink, and hadn’t hesitated to come to a defenseless woman’s aid. She was certain now that his quest to buy Ruth’s house wasn’t an act of greed, but something he felt obligated to do for his job.

  “Thank you. That means a great deal,” he said gruffly. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” He gave a slight nod, then disappeared down the hall.

  Olivia stared after him for a long moment, attempting to let her emotions settle before getting back to the task at hand.

  “Despite our differences, I do believe you’re a good person.”

  Olivia’s words filled him with warmth all the way back to his office. Why such a small compliment meant so much to him he couldn’t say. But at least it seemed like she might have started to forgive him for calling the inspector.

  He shook his head. Somehow he needed to find a way out of this mess. Convince Walcott that going after the Bennington property wasn’t worth the effort. Hopefully the pending reinspection would buy Darius the time he needed to come up with a viable alternative.

  When he reached his office, Mr. Walcott was talking to Kevin in the outer area. “There you are, Reed. I need a word with you.”

  He held back a sigh. So much for time to prepare. Kevin moved off toward his office while Walcott waited for Darius to open his door.

  “What can I do for you, sir?” He set his hat on the coat stand.

  Walcott closed the door behind him. “I gather the Bennington Place inspection hasn’t yielded the desired results.”

  Darius sucked in a breath. “Actually, it has. The house needs some substantial repairs to the roof, and unless they can come up with the capital to cover it, they won’t pass another inspection.” He struggled to keep the guilt from his face.

  “That’s going to take too long. I’ve got a better idea.” Walcott smirked. “I sent Caldwell to canvass the neighbors in the area to see if he could dig up some dirt on Mrs. Bennington or her operation.”

  A slow burn of anger flared in Darius’s chest. “That’s a bit low, don’t you think? These women are trying to do something good for the community. They don’t deserve this type of treatment.”

  Walcott stared at him. “Careful. You’re breaking one of the cardinal rules of business, Reed. You’re making it personal. This is just another property we’re trying to acquire.”

  “You make it sound like they are an anonymous corporation when it’s nothing like that.” Darius stalked across the room, too agitated to sit.

  “Hear me out,” Walcott said. “Caldwell came up with some good stuff. One neighbor in particular is very vocal about his dislike of the home and its residents.” He leaned across the desk. “Claims that prostitutes are living there.”

  Darius stiffened. “That’s not—”

  “If we can get the word out, the public will put up such a stink that the widow will have to leave town. This Simmons character has even got a petition started. He’s going around to all the area businesses and residents to get signatures. Says he plans to bring his complaint to the city council in the hopes that they’ll shut the home down.” He gave a loud laugh. “This guy might do all our work for us.”

  Unable to muster a response, Darius dragged a hand over his jaw. He knew this would get ugly if his boss had free rein.

  “I thought you were going to give me time to do this my way,” he said at last.

  “I did. In fact, I even offered the inspector an added bonus to make sure he found something wrong. But the whole episode is taking too long and there’s still a chance they’ll pass the next inspection. Then we’d be back to square one.”

  Darius sucked in a breath. Did his boss really just admit to bribing a city official?

  Walcott pursed his lips as he began to pace. “This is what I want you to do. Interview Simmons and take his statement. Then write up an article and get it into The Daily Star. Once this hits the papers and the neighbors learn about the type of people inhabiting that place, there will be a huge outcry.”

  “That’s crazy.” Darius flung out his hands. “We don’t even know if his claim is true. I’ve been inside, and I didn’t see anyone resembling a prostitute.” Tension seized his shoulders. All he could think about was the betrayal Olivia would feel if she found out Darius was still trying to shut her facility down.

  “Who cares as long as our ploy works?”

  The blatant corruption in that statement snapped something inside Darius. He came around the desk, no longer willing to hide his distaste, and stood eye to eye with his boss. “I care. I’m not going to spread false rumors about someone just for your company’s financial gain.”

  Walcott’s nostrils flared. “If you value your job, you will.” He lowered his voice to a deadly serious level. “I hear you’re marrying Meredith Cheeseman in a few weeks. Do you think your bride will be eager to wed an unemployed nobody? Do you imagine Horace Cheeseman would allow it?” />
  Darius went still, the fight draining from him as the truth of his boss’s statement hit home. Mr. Cheeseman would never allow his daughter to marry Darius if he had no job. His position at Walcott Industries was one of the main reasons Mr. Cheeseman was agreeing to this match. “No, I don’t suppose he would.”

  “Then if you want to keep your job and your bride, you know what you have to do.” Walcott yanked the door open. “And I suggest you do it soon.”

  16

  The sound of moaning brought Olivia halfway out of sleep, her heart thudding. Was one of the prison inmates sick? Or had Dr. Guest subjected another poor soul to her torments? If so, Olivia could only be glad it wasn’t her. This time.

  She shifted in the bed, becoming aware of the lavender-scented pillowcase beneath her head. She wasn’t in prison. She was safe at Ruth’s. Slowly, her heart rate began to return to normal and her muscles relaxed. She must have been dreaming of the reformatory again.

  Another loud moan sounded.

  Olivia shot up from the mattress and grabbed her robe. This was not a dream. One of the girls could be in labor. She needed to determine who it was and see if the midwife was needed.

  In the dark hallway, Olivia encountered Ruth tying the belt on her robe, her gray hair in a long braid over her shoulder.

  “I think it’s coming from Darla’s room.” Ruth pointed to the door.

  With no name for the stranger, they’d decided to call the battered woman Darla. They both waited outside for some indication to enter. At another, louder moan, Ruth knocked on the door. “Are you all right, dear? Can we come in?”

  No answer.

  Ruth shook her head and slowly eased the door open. “It’s Mrs. Bennington. Are you ill?” She snapped on a lamp.