by Janette Oke
“I’ve heard he is very good at his job. He’ll think of things others have overlooked, I’m quite certain.”
“Perhaps he will.”
“You do know that the cruise ship has moved on today.”
Mother’s face clearly indicated that she had not heard. Beth exchanged glances with Margret.
“Of course, that would be necessary for them,” Mrs. Montclair hurried to explain. “All those passengers aboard have nothing to do with this terrible business. They’ve paid for their vacations, and it would serve no purpose for them to remain. And at any rate, it’s unlikely that we shall be joining them again.”
It hadn’t occurred to Beth to wonder what would happen if Julie were suddenly returned. As far as she was concerned, it would be very easy to forgo the remainder of the trip for some peaceful days at home, and she was certain her mother and sisters would feel the same.
Just give her back to us, Father—and nothing so inconsequential will ever matter again. By the look on Margret’s face, Beth wondered if her thoughts were taking a similar path.
Mrs. Montclair babbled on as if that would help allay the fears of them all. “Mr. Lorant has retrieved our baggage from the ship. I sent my Lise along to help pack up, and two or three of the maids on ship assisted her too. We didn’t want to bother you with such things, Priscilla. Our things have been placed in storage for now.” She drew in a long breath, no doubt reloading for another soliloquy. “I should have enjoyed seeing Florida. I’ve seen plenty of cities all along the way, but I should have enjoyed the palm trees.” And on and on she went.
Beth could see the tension written across Mother’s face, the weariness in the slope of her shoulders. Beth wished Mrs. Montclair had remained in her own room.
But Mrs. Montclair was taking her time over the meal, speaking around her bites of food, removing and replacing her glasses by turn. “Perhaps we can join up again next summer, for a longer journey. I’d like to see South America. If we were to travel there, it might be that our husbands would travel along with us—for business and for pleasure—killing two birds with one stone, so to speak.”
Mother nodded and forced a smile. Beth almost groaned aloud at her inappropriate phrase.
“I’ve heard that the flora and fauna in South America are fascinating, so very different than our own. I should like to have a look at the Nile and the Andes—”
“The Nile is in Egypt. It’s the Amazon in South America.” Beth’s automatic correction had slipped through before she considered the consequences.
“Oh? What did I say?”
“You said the Nile.”
“No,” Mrs. Montclair argued. “I believe I did say the Amazon. I do know my geography, Elizabeth.”
“Perhaps I heard wrong.” Beth could feel Margret nudge her leg under the table and quickly took a bite to hide her smile.
“At any rate, we shall soon see an end to our troubles, I assure you. With Edward here, and our husbands on their way, I’m convinced we shall have Julie back among us within another day.” She patted Mother’s hand. “And then you’ll want to keep your daughters home with you for quite some time to come, I imagine.”
Mother glanced at the dresser where the school board’s invitation still lay. Beth inwardly begged, Don’t bring up the letter. Please don’t bring up the letter.
But it was Mrs. Montclair who spoke again, her voice trembling a little. “I’m so sorry, Priscilla. I’m afraid I’ve monopolized the conversation. And I intended to try to devote myself to listening instead.” There was genuine remorse in her eyes.
“No, Edith, don’t apologize. It’s just this situation . . . this terrible waiting.”
Mrs. Montclair dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief. Beth was astonished at the heartfelt compassion she saw in the woman’s face. “I haven’t known what to say to you all . . . but I’ve prayed.” She raised troubled eyes, looking at each one. “We’re so worried for her, for our dear Julie. If there’s anything—anything at all I can do . . .”
Mother reached for her friend’s hand. “We know, Edith. But you sent for Edward. And you’ve given up your plans and stayed here with us through this nightmare. We surely know.” The glistening in Mother’s eyes said more than her words. “How is Victoria?” she asked.
“She’s rather bored, of course. But she’s given herself over to her violin. I’m afraid the noise upset some of the other patrons—however, their rooms were promptly changed and a crisis was averted. She’s taken now to practicing on the rooftop. There’s a small patio up there, and she tells me the sound is quite lovely when it isn’t too windy. I haven’t scolded her—as you advised, Priscilla. I’ve tried to allow for this means of expressing herself.”
“I’m sorry this all is so difficult, Edith, for you also,” Mother said. “We’re grateful for your encouragement.”
“It’s nothing,” her answer came back emphatically. “You’re as dear to us as family. Whatever you walk through, we shall walk through together.”
“Thank you, my friend. That means the world to me just now.”
Chapter
29
ONCE MRS. MONTCLAIR RETURNED to her own room, the dismal specter of doubt and fear seemed to descend upon them once more. Margret tucked herself back into bed, and Mother returned to her meaningless fussing over this and that. Beth tried to read but found it possible only to pretend.
Light through the windows began to dim, marking off the passing of another long, painful day. Edward had stopped twice but had very little news to offer. Even Monsieur Laurent seemed to have made himself scarce, no doubt feeling the awkwardness of having nothing substantial to tell them.
Beth was overwhelmed with how well Mother was managing, all things considered. There was a strength in her that Beth had missed previously. She was well aware of the truth that Mother had handled her emotions much more honorably.
Then the sound of a key in the door. Who on earth has a key? Mother froze in place, and Beth rose.
It was Father who burst into the room.
“Oh, William! At last!” Mother fell into his arms, openly weeping now.
Beth and Margret hurried to join in the embrace. Moments passed before any of them could speak.
“I came as quickly as I could, dear ones. All I wanted was to see your faces.” He looked from one to the other, then back again.
Margret leaned her head against his shoulder. “You too, Father. We just wanted you with us.”
“Have you spoken with the police, Father?”
“No, my dearest Beth. I came straight to you. Emile—Monsieur Laurent—met me at the airfield and gave me all the information to which he was privy. Poor man, he feels this is his fault. He’s beside himself with worry.”
Beth lowered her head. “No, Father, it’s my fault. I should never have even considered going off with Julie like that. I should have—”
“Nothing of the sort.” Father looked directly into Beth’s eyes and held her shoulders. “The scoundrels would have created an opportunity at some point, regardless.” He waved her troubled thoughts aside. “We’ll have no more talk of blame. That can rightly be placed only on those who perpetrated this crime—precisely what I told Emile. Let’s focus instead on securing Julie’s release.”
Beth whispered, “Yes, Father. Thank you.”
“Now, I believe I shall go speak to the police. And I would very much like to see you rest. You three do look exhausted. Have they offered you something to help you sleep, Priscilla dear?”
Mother nodded.
“Then it seems to me this is a good night to take that help. I’ll stand on watch. You don’t need to worry about that.”
“But Margret can’t—she’s . . .” Beth’s eye grew wide. She had almost blurted out Margret’s news.
“With child? Yes, I know. Mother informed me by telephone a while ago.” He slipped an arm around Margret’s shoulders. “I’m so happy for you, my sweet Margret. You’re a wonderful mother. I’m sure John is ve
ry pleased.”
“He wishes I were at home with him,” Margret said.
“Yes, I’m certain he’s beside himself with concern.”
“I told him not to come, but I never thought we’d still be . . .”
Father leaned closer with a smile. “He’s on his way now, my dear. He couldn’t be stopped. But we’re not surprised by that, are we?”
Margret’s face filled with joy and relief.
Father left to talk with the authorities, yet everything had changed. There was no longer a need for constant vigil. He would be standing guard, as he had always done. Beth slipped into her nightgown for the first time in three days and crawled between the soft sheets. There was no need for a sedative. Sleep came easily at last.
Beth woke early, her mind scrambling to figure things out. Yes, Julie is still gone. So why are we sleeping soundly in bed? Oh, yes, Father has arrived. He is in charge now—that role he does so well.
Rising slowly so as not to awaken Margret, Beth was surprised to discover her sister already absent. She hurried into the bathroom to wash and dress for the day, brushing out her hair carefully and pinning it neatly in place. She had been neglecting her appearance, and it was nice to feel fresh and presentable again. Having ignored her little ritual since Julie had disappeared, she chose a rose petal from the shrinking packet in her suitcase and folded the corner of her hanky around it.
Just as she exited the bathroom, she heard a knock at the door and opened it to find Father, looking rather flushed and somber. “You’re awake?”
“Yes, Father.”
“Come with me.”
Beth hurried after him, struggling to match his long strides. “Where’s Margret?”
He answered without pausing, “John arrived late in the night. They’ve taken a room further up the hall.”
“Oh, I’m so glad.” But Father, leading her forward quickly, wasn’t paying attention.
He rapped on Mother’s door, and it was immediately opened. Mother was already dressed, looking fresh as well. Beth followed him inside. Father drew Mother close. Beth held her breath. What . . . ? Oh no, please, God, no!
“I want you to remain calm, Priscilla. Can you do that?”
Mother swallowed hard. “I’ll do my best, William.” Her hands clutched at his lapels. Beth’s own trembling hands rose to cover her mouth as she fought tears.
“Edward has discovered where those two girls went after leaving the ship.”
“But that’s good,” Beth whispered, “isn’t it, Father?”
“Perhaps. But it’s disappointing as well.” Father bent his face closer to Mother’s, his voice growing softer. “They’ve headed west—far west. They purchased train tickets for the coast. If they aren’t apprehended before they get to California, it’s likely they won’t be seen again.”
“Oh no! And Julie? Is she . . . is she with them?” Beth watched Mother’s hand clench tighter around Father’s lapel.
“That’s unlikely, but we simply do not know. It is possible, of course. Just unlikely. And there’s more.” He stooped to study Mother’s face. “They have criminal records—both young women. They’ve been arrested before, several times, for petty theft mostly. It appears they often prey on vacationers, taking advantage of people at times when they’re less guarded. It’s uncertain when they became involved with the young man, but it was undoubtedly rather recently. They were operating much farther south only a couple of months ago.”
Our family was deceived! Beth wanted to scream aloud—to drop the feeble grip she had on self-control and shriek until her lungs could produce no more sound.
Mother was clinging to Father, and he was holding her up in a strong embrace. Beth tried to piece together what he was telling them.
“. . . two tickets purchased . . . train departed Saturday . . . local officers communicating with police stations ahead of the scheduled stops . . . could possibly be intercepted in Missouri late this morning . . . the girls, if arrested, may be able to give us more information.”
“Edward discovered this?” Beth managed to choke out.
“Yes, dear. He’s been working tirelessly. He had Emma’s photographs developed, the ones she’s been taking along the way. And from them Emile identified those two girls . . .” His voice cracked. “And also one of Julie. He took the photographs around with him when he asked questions—to see if anyone recognized their faces, and someone at the train station did, at least the pictures of those other two. It was rather brilliant of him to think of it.”
“I want to thank him,” Beth said.
“That would be very fitting. There’s my brave girl.” One of Father’s arms reached around Beth’s shoulders to pull her close.
Beth did not feel brave at all, merely overwhelmed to the point of incomprehension. It was slowly dawning on her, truly sinking in, that Julie could easily be long gone and lost forever.
Chapter
30
BETH MERELY PICKED AT HER LUNCH, moving the pasta salad around her plate in hopes it would appear she had eaten. In truth, she had already decided that dining would be impossible.
“Why isn’t there any news?” Margret fretted. “When did Father say Jannis and Penny were to arrive at the next station? We’ve been waiting for hours. ”
“I don’t remember—”
“And where are they all now?”
“Down in that little office.”
“We should be there, Beth. Let’s go down and hear what’s being said.”
“Remember, Margret? They told us to stay up here. The room is crowded, and it’s less stressful . . .” Beth bit back the words for you, Margret. They don’t want you upset. John, in particular, wants you protected from—
“Can’t we open another window?” Margret waved a handkerchief in front of her face. “It’s so hot today. Even the breeze off the ocean seems to feel steamy.”
“I don’t know. I’ll look.”
Beth rose from her seat, grateful to forsake any further pretense of eating. She pulled back the drapes and checked to see if additional glass panes were moveable. At last she found that the smallest window would open, and it allowed for a slight cross breeze. “Is that better, Margret?”
“I suppose—I’ll sit right in front of it.” Margret moved over to the stuffed chair and collapsed, working the handkerchief for all it was worth. “Thank you, Beth,” she managed.
Beth wanted to empathize with her sister, out of sorts as Margret was, but she had lost all interest in conversation. She moved toward the bathroom.
“You’re not going to bathe again, are you?”
Beth stopped. It would be a ridiculous waste of water. Returning, she scraped their plates onto one and gathered the utensils onto the tray. “I wish they had brought tea.”
“On a hot day like this? I can’t imagine.”
Beth took a deep breath, waited as long as she could before trying a new subject. “Where’s JW?”
“With Miss Bernard.”
“Could we play with him?”
“He’s sleeping.”
“Oh, that’s too bad.” It occurred to Beth how grateful they should all be to have Miss Bernard to care for the baby, but she chose not to express the thought aloud. Instead she spun in a slow circle. There was really nothing with which she could distract herself. The beds were made up, the dishes stacked, their bags packed and resting on the stands. She could read, but it would be only meaningless words.
“Where is John?” Margret wondered fitfully.
“Oh, goodness—I just told you. He’s down in the office with the policemen and everyone else.”
“Yes, you’re right. I forgot. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry too. I should be more patient. Do you need anything, Margret?”
“No . . . not right now.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Fine. Just tired. I wish I could sleep.”
Beth lowered herself to the edge of the bed and stretched her arms. “So do I.”
“Why don’t you try to sleep for a while?”
Beth groaned. “I’ll try. But I doubt it will do any good.”
She had a fleeting thought of transferring one of her sketches to a canvas . . . and then remembered this was Julie’s . . .
Before she could give in to tears, she lay down on the bed, praying that sleep would fall over her. She felt the mattress move as Margret quietly lay down beside her.
The door opened slowly and Mother appeared. “My darlings, are you here?”
Where else? “Yes, Mother. We’re both here, trying to rest.”
“Beth,” she said, entering cautiously, “there’s someone here to see you. Is it a good time?”
Her feet slid quickly to the floor, and she straightened her dress. “Who is it, Mother?” She forced herself to move forward.
Jarrick stepped inside the door, his blue eyes searching her face as if there were no one else in the room, his forehead knitted together with deep concern. “Beth?”
How is it possible?
Casting a puzzled look at Beth, who stood as if paralyzed, Margret rose and extended a hand toward Jarrick. “My name is Margret. I’m Beth’s sister.”
He smiled politely. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Jack Thornton. Beth calls me Jarrick.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” Without further comment, Margret slipped past Mother, and they both retreated, leaving the door open.
“Beth?”
She felt the room begin to spin and sank down on the edge of the nearest chair. Her hands lifted to her face. Jarrick? He’s here? She could feel herself trembling.
He crossed the room noiselessly, dropping to one knee on the carpet in front of her. “Beth,” he whispered softly.
For several moments she could only take little glimpses of him through her fingers, unable to articulate what was most urgent in her heart. He waited in silence. At last she lowered her hands just a little. “Julie . . .”
“I know.” His words stumbled out. “I . . . I was very reluctant to intrude like this. I didn’t want to be a distraction or get in the way, but I just couldn’t keep myself from seeing you—seeing for myself how you are.”
