Oh my stars and garters! I have never seen such a handsome man. His hair was as black as a raven’s wing, and his eyes were the color of the sky at dusk. Blue, I thought. But I looked again and I believe they are indigo. He wore trail clothes—a black duster and dungarees—but they were clean and his freshly shaved jaw shone in the afternoon sun.
I believe he had been to the barber across the street, because he smelled like Papa smells on Sunday mornings—of bay rum and soap. Such good smells!
But oh! This man is a rogue. When I offered my gratitude for retrieving my reticule, he gave me a look I shan’t ever forget. With one eyebrow raised, he invited me “to share a proper cup of tea at a proper café with a not-so-proper gentleman.”
Why not, I thought to myself. I am a New Woman. Miss Broderick would skin me alive if she knew, but I will keep this adventure a secret. Adam—his full name is Adam Carter—must understand my situation, because he asked for a table in a secluded back room.
We chatted for two hours about all the things I hold dear. Adam agrees that women should vote, and he paid me the greatest compliment. “Miss Abbott, you are both brave and wise, a woman with a maturity far beyond your years. I am honored to make your acquaintance, and I hope we can meet again.”
I said yes, of course. And New Woman that I am, I invited him to use my given name.
This coming Saturday I am meeting Adam at four o’clock. Miss Broderick expects me to attend a music recital for our older girls, but I will tell her the truth—part of it. I have a dress fitting and promised to spend the afternoon with Ruby Dearborn, the dressmaker. Ruby supports education and equality for women just as I do, and we have become fast friends.
Saturday cannot arrive soon enough, but Diary, I must confess that I am troubled. My father would not approve, and I am quite sure Thomas did not intend my Season of Discovery to include supper with Adam Carter. But I cannot resist! I must learn more about him!
MJ scanned the next entries and gasped at the lies spewing from Adam Carter’s mouth. The newspaper clipping she’d found with the reverend’s letters tied Adam to an outlaw gang known for train robberies. He told Little Miss he was in the railroad business and let the foolish girl draw her own conclusions. In the diary she marveled at his success in business and the abundance of his fortune. He lived at the Lancer Hotel, though “business” often took him to Laramie, or so he said.
The rest of the story was sadly predictable. Within a month, Little Miss had accompanied Adam Carter to his hotel room.
Last night branded my heart and soul. I wanted it to happen and it did. Yes, I lied to Miss Broderick about staying the night with Ruby, and I would lie again. I would do anything for Adam. He needs me, Diary. He is a lonely man and gentle of spirit, a man without a family or love. He is a strong man yet broken inside. Last night at supper he leaned across the table, his face lit by candles, and he told me how we could fix the brokenness together.
“You are beautiful, Margaret,” he said. “I want you in my bed.”
Diary, I confess to you—Ruby told me about sexual relations. Adam did not pressure me in any way. He said the decision was mine, and I willingly chose to give myself to him in this way. I find it abominable that females are so sheltered that they are not allowed to enjoy the same sexual freedoms as men. My mother sought to keep me ignorant. She would not speak of procreation at all except to promise a talk on my wedding day.
Diary, I love Adam. I do. He has not spoken of marriage, though surely he will after the bliss of last night.
I must go now. I am sadly behind in my correspondence to my family, and my father is sending letters full of doom and worry. He need not fret. I am confident my future is here in Cheyenne as Adam’s wife. Yes, I know I have not mentioned Thomas. I have broken my promise and cannot bear to think of him.
MJ skimmed several pages, frowning constantly as she lived the next few weeks with Little Miss. She typically used Ruby the dressmaker to cover her clandestine meetings with Adam, and her diary entries complained of Miss Broderick questioning her whereabouts.
From what MJ gleaned, Ruby was in her mid-thirties and dreamed of designing costumes for theater companies. Her interest in women’s rights had nothing to do with politics and everything to do with growing up poor and hungry, marrying an older man, and suffering abuse until he died.
MJ skimmed through a dozen entries that praised Adam with schoolgirl gibberish and overblown poetry. Finally she found the passage about Little Miss being dismissed from her teaching position.
Annalisse Petty is despicable! We have shared a room for nearly three months now. I tried to befriend her, but she is critical, old-fashioned, and pea green with jealousy! She spied on me and told Miss Broderick she saw me take the elevator with Adam to an upper floor.
When I returned to school the next morning, Miss Broderick ordered me to leave immediately. I was denied even the simplest good-byes. She treated me like a prostitute, which I am not. I love Adam and he loves me.
The remaining entries described a downhill slide. Little Miss took shelter with Ruby in a boardinghouse, where she anxiously waited for Adam to return from Laramie. A week passed, then two. Little Miss’s careful penmanship degraded into a panicked scrawl.
Where are you, Adam? I need you. This morning Ruby heard me retching into the washbowl and confronted me. Yes, I am with child. Come home to me, darling. I need you, and so does our baby.
A dried tear smeared “baby” into a blur, but a pregnancy in 1895 couldn’t be so easily erased. MJ imagined Little Miss clutching the pen and dipping the ink, as frantic as MJ had been over a home pregnancy test. The next entry shrieked the same plea.
Adam, where are you? I blink and see you lying injured, even dead. I cry and wonder if you were drowned in a river. Worst of all, my love, are the doubts about your love, the fear that you don’t— No, I cannot say it.
You love me. You said so. You will return and marry me and provide a good home for our baby, who makes his presence known with unrelenting sickness. I can barely leave my bed, but I must earn a living. Ruby allows me to help with piecework, but my funds have dwindled to a meager sum.
Diary, what should I do? My father’s letters arrive and I cannot bring myself to reply. He knows I was let go from the Broderick School, and he rightly suspects I am with child. My mother is hysterical with worry, and though my father does not mention Thomas, I am riddled with guilt for all they are suffering.
MJ skimmed the next two pages, then read the entry that matched the date on the newspaper clipping.
Adam is dead. What am I to do?
The rest of the page was blank, a testament to Little Miss’s grief. Hungry for the details, MJ retrieved the newspaper article from the other room and reread the story about the train robbery. The crime had resulted in the deaths of four members of an outlaw gang, among them Adam Carter.
Three days passed before Little Miss dipped her pen again.
I am so ashamed! I cannot bear to leave my bed. I was a fool! Adam lied to me about everything. When I read about him in the newspaper, which I have done until I am blind with tears, it is as if I am reading about a stranger.
Did he love me at all? I want to believe his pursuit of me was born of mutual admiration, but I fear—oh, this hurts to write—I fear he used me as if I were a sporting woman. Or worse, he played with me the way a cat toys with a mouse.
Yesterday an actress from the theater company came to see Ruby about a costume. The woman saw me and smirked. “You did not believe what he said, did you?”
But of course I did. I was a fool. And now I am with child. I cannot bear it.
I have not written to my father in three weeks. I cannot face him. I cannot! And my mother—I fear the shame will cause her heart to seize.
There is only one hope of escaping the shame, but I cannot bear to consider Ruby’s advice. She knows a woman who would give me herbs that would bring on my monthly. Ruby will loan me the money if I so desire, and I am considering it. It is
as if I never existed to Adam. I am left to grieve and cope alone with a child who will be shunned by society.
As I will be shunned.
I think of Thomas’s letter and his insistence that he could love this child. I want so desperately to believe him, but how can I accept such a gift knowing I do not love him the way I loved Adam, or the man I thought Adam to be?
It is all too much. I cannot believe Thomas truly loves me as I am.
And there it was—MJ’s own heart bleeding on the page. Cradled by the pillows and fluffy duvet, she felt the ache of the LEEP all over again, the shame of telling Shane about HPV.
He had convinced her that he didn’t care about the virus itself, even about adopting if she couldn’t conceive, but what did she do with her feelings about her body? She believed Shane loved her. And she loved him, but like Little Miss, she was riddled with doubts. And yet here she was—aching to tell the girl to take a chance.
If MJ had the faith to believe in love for Little Miss, shouldn’t she have it for herself?
Her cheeks burned as she read the next pages in the diary. When Little Miss received the telegram announcing the arrival of the reverend and Thomas, she mustered her courage and met them at the train station. There she fell into her father’s arms and begged him to forgive her.
My father welcomed me with open arms even as I sobbed that I was with child. He held me tight as if I were small. When he called me Little Miss, I wept harder still. A child’s name, yes. But I am, and always will be, my father’s daughter.
Thomas looked on, a slight smile hidden under his dark mustache. I could not meet his gaze and we did not embrace. If by a miracle of grace, he still wants to marry me, I must tell him everything. I have come to love this innocent life in my womb, but my shame grows with my thickening middle.
Several entries described Thomas courting Little Miss, who experienced all the confusion MJ experienced with Shane. Yes. No. Yes. A kiss. Fear. Regret. More fear. Then a tantalizing hope that demanded a leap of faith. After a month, Thomas won the war.
Tonight Thomas asked me again to marry him and I said yes. How my earthly father and future husband can forgive me is beyond my comprehension.
I have shared many talks with both Thomas and my father, and I have come to know the simplest of truths: I am a sinner saved by grace because the Son of God paid for my sins. The old things have passed away; I am a new creature in Christ.
MJ stared at those words a long time before she turned to the last page in the diary. A sepia-toned photograph, its surface dry and cracked, slid into her lap. Pinching the corner, she turned it over and saw the words Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Monroe, August 22, 1895.
A serious Thomas stood next to a chair, where Little Miss sat with his hand on her shoulder and a bouquet in her lap. She wore the stoic expression deemed proper for the time, but neither time nor a photographer’s slow exposure could hide the happiness in her eyes—or the quiet confidence.
Little Miss had made peace with herself. Could MJ make that same leap? More than anything, she wanted Shane to be truly happy. How could she be sure that he wasn’t riding to her rescue out of some misplaced need to redeem himself?
No answer came, but she relived the reverend welcoming Little Miss—and MJ’s own mother welcoming her. The gift of the letters—hope for prodigal daughters everywhere—deserved to be shared. Tomorrow she’d photocopy everything and send the package to Lyn for the women at Maggie’s House.
The decision pleased her, but she couldn’t shake the envy she felt for Little Miss. Was it time for MJ to take a step of faith on her own? To put on lipstick, a pretty outfit, and let herself feel those feelings for Shane that terrified her?
Fear collided with excitement, then electricity shot from her head to her heart, or maybe it went from her heart to her head. Or—it didn’t matter. She was tingling all over, blushing, and determined to take a chance.
Before doubts assailed her and she changed her mind, she called Tracee and asked if Cody could come over for a while.
“Sure,” Tracee replied. “What’s up?”
“I’m going out tonight.”
Tracee’s smile echoed through the phone. “With Shane? It’s about time.”
“It’s just dinner.” Not a date. But it was.
“How about a sleepover? The kids will love it, and you won’t have to rush home.”
“Thanks. I’d like that.”
The dog movie was about to end, so she put together clothes for Cody, then popped into the shower, washed her hair, and wrapped herself in her fluffy white robe. The cotton caressed her skin, but as she blow-dried her hair into feminine waves, she wondered if she was out of her mind. Shane could do so much better than her—he deserved better.
“Stop it,” she ordered herself.
But she couldn’t control her fears. Her insecurities mushroomed until she opened her top dresser drawer and spotted the pretty pink bra and matching panties. Why not wear them? Shane wouldn’t see the pearlescent silk, at least not tonight. But MJ would know, and the womanly things made her feel brave. Beautiful too. Maybe even bold.
Five minutes later, she was dressed in black leggings, a flashy tunic top from her days at SassyGirl, and the cute boots she’d worn to Los Angeles. Eye shadow, mascara, and a dash of lipstick finished the look. Not quite satisfied, she added a pair of dangly earrings and swept her hair up into a messy bun that showed off her neck. Still nervous, she made a flirty face in the mirror. The silly look made her laugh and she relaxed—almost.
Shane’s Tahoe rumbled into the driveway. As she stepped into the hall, Cody bounded up the stairs. “Mommy! We’re back.”
In little-boy fashion, he gaped at her. “Why do you look like that?”
“Because I do.” She jammed his backpack into his arms and steered him back to the stairwell. “You’re going to spend the night with Brandon.”
“I am?”
“Yes, you are.” Please, God, don’t let him argue. “You can tell him about the movie.”
“Okay, but can we get a dog?”
“Maybe.” She turned Cody around and marched him back down the hall.
He tromped down the stairs, said something to Shane, and slammed the door behind him. MJ took a breath to compose herself, placed her hand on the polished rail, and paused at the top. With her eyes on Shane at the bottom, she navigated the stairs one slow step at a time.
His eyes popped when he saw her. Not the least bit shy, he took in every inch of her. “Oh man. I’m dying here.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.” His voice deepened to a rumble. “You’re beautiful.”
She feasted her eyes on his handsome face, his wide shoulders, the confident gleam in his eyes. When he looked her up and down again, for the first time in her life she experienced the sexual force of being a woman—the power to captivate a man and enjoy it.
Maybe she could pull this off after all—or maybe not. It was a lot easier being a mom in jeans than a woman with a vulnerable heart. She ambled down the stairs, slowly, enjoying the moment as much as she could, loving the look on Shane’s face, yet scared to death that the look wouldn’t last.
Courage made her voice strong. “I thought we’d go out to dinner. Just you and me.”
“A date?” He quirked a brow.
“Yes, a date.”
“I’m in.”
Shane whipped out his phone, made reservations for two at the Riverbend Steakhouse, and told MJ he’d be back as soon as he showered and changed clothes. Twenty minutes later, freshly shaved and wearing a sports jacket, he trotted down the apartment stairs with a grin on his face. Instead of going to the back door as usual, he went to the front door and knocked. This was a real first date, and he wanted MJ to feel special.
When she opened the door, he brushed a kiss on her cheek and told her again that she was beautiful. This time she accepted the compliment without blushing, and he offered his arm. Something had changed—something big. They made small talk on the
way to the restaurant, slipped into a booth with a view of the river, and ordered steaks with all the trimmings.
MJ smiled shyly. “I want to tell you about the diary.”
“Did it answer your questions?”
“Most of them.”
For the next several minutes, she talked about Little Miss, Adam Carter, and Thomas. Shane wanted to punch Adam Carter in the nose, but he was deeply moved by the reverend’s love for his daughter. As for Thomas, Shane gave him a mental high-five for being a good guy. He also admired the man’s persistence, and he knew intuitively that was what MJ needed from him now.
Time. Persistence. And maybe some gentle persuasion.
When they finished the meal, they lingered over a decadent chocolate dessert, relaxing with each other, laughing quietly, just being together. He didn’t want the evening to end, and apparently neither did she. They hung out until the restaurant closed, which he covered with a big tip for their servers.
When they arrived back at the house, he walked her to her door. “I had a great time.”
“Me too.” She raised her face to his, a kiss poised on her lips.
Taking his time, he matched his mouth to hers and told her without words exactly how he felt. The kisses were long and slow. Hungry but patient. Generous, commanding, yet as tender as a man could be with a woman. In unison they took deep breaths and eased back. Like a wave returning to the ocean, the attraction retreated to something bigger, stronger, deeper. That place was love. The heart of God. A gift to them both.
Shane gave silent thanks for the attic letters and the diary, and for the all-loving, all-knowing God who had put them in MJ’s hands at just the right time. He hoped tonight was the start of a new phase in their lives—one that started with the letter F for Forever.
When He Found Me (Road to Refuge Book 1) Page 27
