Even though she didn’t look his way, he had the feeling she was aware of him standing there with Laura. Her father did look toward them and let his gaze linger a moment on them as a frown etched a deep line between his eyes. Jessamine was smiling, an uncertain smile as she carefully arranged her skirts. It was as though the storms brewing outside were coming into the ballroom to mash down on them all. Then the band struck up a new song.
Across the room, Ridenour took his mother’s hand and led her out on the dance floor. She looked completely smitten. In fact, Tristan didn’t remember her even glancing his way as if her infatuation with the lawyer had made her forget the object of their visit to the Springs. Or maybe she had been so reassured last week by his promise that nothing had changed that she no longer thought she needed to police his every moment.
He was turning to see if Laura wanted to try a dance, awkward though it was with his arm still in the sling, but Sheldon Brady had come up to them while Tristan’s attention was on his mother to ask Laura for the dance.
“You don’t mind, do you, Tristan?” Laura said with a quick glance toward him before she took Brady’s hand. “We’ll have so many years to dance. When your arm has healed.”
He pushed a bland smile across his face as he watched them glide away to the music and wondered if he and Laura would ever be in perfect step like that. He watched all the couples spinning around the floor in front of him, his eyes going from one smiling face to another and knew there was only one face he wished to see smiling at him.
He looked toward the chair by the veranda doors but it was empty now. Jessamine must have stepped out into the garden in spite of the approaching storm. He imagined her standing there, the wind pushing against her skirt and undoing all the elaborate curls her maid had surely spent hours arranging. Turning away from the pretense of the ballroom and embracing the freedom of wind sweeping through the garden.
Without conscious thought, he took a step toward the doors, but a servant stepped up to hand him a folded bit of paper. He turned his back on the dancers and unfolded the note.
Meet me at the far end of the lake.
There was nothing to indicate who might have written the note. While the words were printed with no flair, the letters were so small and neat they had surely been written by a female hand. Who else could it be but Jessamine? She wouldn’t put curls and frills on her letters. The Shakers would have taught her economy in writing as well as everything else she did. But why would she summon him with a note instead of moving across the room to speak to him face-to-face? What message did she have for him that she feared others overhearing?
He looked at her empty chair. A sudden flash of lightning lit up the garden followed a few seconds later by a booming crash of thunder. A few ladies let out startled shrieks, but the music continued.
She surely hadn’t gone out into the threatening storm to wait for him, but she wasn’t in her seat. She wasn’t standing outside the doors in the garden. He would have spotted her there when the lightning flashed. He had to go after her. He had to be sure she was safe. It wouldn’t change anything, but he owed her that much.
Across the room, Dr. Hargrove was signaling his musicians to keep playing as other servants scurried around pushing down windows. The party must go on. Tristan spotted his mother. From the look on her face, she had all but forgotten she was a mother. And Laura and Sheldon Brady were still gliding effortlessly to the music. No one would miss him.
30
“Jessamine. Jessamine!”
Jessamine looked around, but no one seemed to be paying the first bit of attention to her. No one calling her name. The silk and satin skirts of the dancers must have fooled her ears with their whispers as they whirled past her. Her father had escorted her to the same seat near the veranda doors. Then with an odd look, almost of guilt to be leaving her alone, he was off to dance with the princess. He had promised Laura a dance that morning at breakfast, and he claimed to be anxious to get the fulfillment of his promise out of the way in order to free the rest of the evening for Jessamine. To teach her some of the dance steps.
“You danced the Shaker dances. These steps will be simple compared to those,” he said.
Then he left her attempting to contain the bothersome billowing skirts and petticoats as she sat down. Across the room, her father took Laura from Tristan’s side.
Jessamine had spotted Tristan the very instant she came into the room. Just as she could not keep her thoughts from circling to him, so it was the same with her eyes. She was ever aware of his presence. Even after she shifted her gaze to the others in the room, she was still seeing only Tristan Cooper. Now he stood stiffly watching her father and the princess gliding away from him as though they were on ice. She tried to read his thoughts. Was he angry at her father for stealing away the princess? Or simply envious his broken arm kept him from being the one to whirl his love around the floor?
Jessamine had no envy of the dancers or resentment for her father abandoning her so soon. She was rather relieved to be quietly sitting. She had not the least desire to step into the rush of dancers, who as far as she could tell moved with little discipline. While she had always enjoyed laboring the dances at Harmony Hill, there she knew the other dancers would march in order. At least until some Believers began receiving whirling or shaking gifts.
She had never received a whirling gift. Not during meeting, anyway. She had known plenty of times when she did a few twirls simply for the pure joy of movement. The joy of life in the sun. Or in the garden.
As her eyes slid back over toward Tristan, she remembered how he had looked watching the Shaker dances last Sunday. Now their situations were reversed. She was the one watching the world’s dance. Not a dance with any thought of worship, to be sure. Here at this place everything was pointed toward romance. Jessamine knew as little about the ways of romance as Tristan had about the ways of the Believers.
She’d seen him watching her that day at meeting. Before he’d been caught in his lie by the visitor from the world. If he could lie so easily about who he was, then there could be much else about which he might not tell the truth. Like a kiss in the garden. That had not felt like a lie, but it surely was. When a man was in love and ready to marry, he should not slip off in a garden with another and encourage a wayward kiss. Even in the world that could not be right. For a certainty, it was not right for a Believer. The kiss she’d given to Tristan, whatever the reason, whatever the motive, was a sin of the first order. If she went back to Harmony Hill, she would have to confess as much.
The thought of confession brought Sister Sophrena to mind. What would the good sister think of her sitting there in a gown of silk with her neck bare and her bosom squeezed and pushed up by the tight bodice of the dress? And with curls lapping down beside her ears and tickling her neck. What would she think of Jessamine’s heart leaping at the sight of Tristan Cooper? Jessamine had told Sister Sophrena in her letter that the man was no temptation to her. She had not told the truth. It mattered not that he loved another. That didn’t change who she loved.
“Jessamine!”
The dancers were still swirling by her, but the skirts weren’t what was whispering her name. A pebble slid across the floor from the veranda door and landed against her skirt. Pitched to get her attention. Jessamine looked around to see if anyone else noticed, but all eyes were on the dancers. No one was paying the first bit of mind to her even after she stood up and moved toward the doors. The music continued on.
Outside the air carried the feel of rain. Abigail would be very unhappy with her if her elaborate curls drooped. And who knew what would happen to such a frothy dress if rain dampened it? Abigail, who had been trying to instruct her in the worldly rules of proper ladylike behavior, would be bound to tell her a lady didn’t rush out into a storm. For any cause.
A hand grabbed her arm and jerked her out of the light spilling from the door back against the side of the building.
“Shh,” a voice hissed in her ear. �
��Dr. Hargrove sees me, I’ll get sent packing.”
“Abigail!” Jessamine was unable to see the girl clearly in the shadows, but she didn’t need to see her face to know something was wrong. “Whatever is the matter? Have I done something wrong?”
“No, no. But I had to come warn you. So you could warn him.” She stopped and pulled in a shaky breath as she squeezed Jessamine’s arm harder. “I’ve got to try to make sense even if none of it makes sense. But I knew you’d want to help him. Since you love him.”
“Who? Tristan?” She started to lean out to peer around the open door to see if she could see him, but Abigail jerked her back.
“Yes, Tristan. Who else?” Abigail’s whisper came out with force. “Jimmy heard two men talking behind the barn about arranging an accident to befall him.”
“An accident?” Jessamine couldn’t take in the words. Lightning flashed and the garden was filled with gray shadows. Seconds later a jarring boom rattled the windows behind her. The storm had arrived. “You mean to hurt him? Who would want to do that?”
“I don’t know. Jimmy didn’t see their faces or recognize their voices.” Abigail brushed her damp hair back out of her eyes. “He didn’t want me to come tell you. He doesn’t think they meant it. He says the gentlemen here are always going on with this or that foolishness and this is probably only some kind of joke that will do nothing but get us fired if we raise a stink. But your young man getting shot out in the woods was no laughing matter. I think you should warn him whether it turns out to be a real danger to him or not.”
Lightning flashed again and revealed Abigail’s distraught face for just a moment. That even more than her words made Jessamine’s heart begin to pound. “What did they say they were going to do?” She had to know what to tell him.
“Something about an unfortunate accident down by the lake.” Abigail gave Jessamine a little shove back toward the door. “Now go. He can tell Dr. Hargrove. If I get fired, I’ll just get fired.”
Jessamine’s heart was beating so fast she could hardly breathe as she stepped back into the ballroom. The musicians continued to feverishly play their fiddles and guitars as if in hopes of covering up the thunder outside. It seemed to be working, for the dancers who whirled past her were intent on their pleasure and giving little notice to the storm blowing their way.
Her father and the princess swept by. His eyes were on Laura’s face, and he gave absolutely no sign of seeing Jessamine. She jerked her skirts back and worked her way around the edge of the dance floor past those waiting their turn with a partner when the music stopped. Tristan was no longer among them. She scanned the room but couldn’t catch sight of him anywhere. Not among the dancers or the watchers.
The music throbbed in her ears matching the panic growing inside her. Why would he have left the dance with the evening just starting? He had to be there somewhere.
A touch on her arm stopped her. “My dear, what’s wrong? Are you frightened by the storm?” The lady leaned close to speak directly into Jessamine’s ear so she could hear over the music.
“Oh, Mrs. Cleveland, I didn’t notice you there.”
“I know. You were looking quite frantic. No reason to be ashamed though.” The woman smiled at her. “I’ve always thought it shows a healthy respect for nature to be worried when lightning starts flashing, but we should be quite safe inside here. Dr. Hargrove’s hotel is built very sturdily.”
“Oh yea, I’m sure you’re right.” Jessamine looked toward the window as if only just remembering the storm.
Mrs. Cleveland frowned a little. “If not the storm, what has you so concerned?”
“I need to find Tristan.” Jessamine wanted to spill out the whole story Abigail had told her, but if Tristan was actually in danger, she’d already wasted too much time talking.
The lady’s frown grew deeper and Jessamine decided it might not be any more proper in the world to chase after a man than it was in the Shaker village. So she tried to swallow her panic and pretend a calm she didn’t feel as she said, “I had a message to give him from a friend.”
The frown eased out from between Mrs. Cleveland’s eyes, but she kept studying Jessamine as though unsure of whether to believe her or not. “How odd. You wanting to give him a message when he just got a message delivered by one of the servants.” Her eyes sharpened on Jessamine. “To be quite frank I thought the message might be from you.”
Now it was Jessamine’s turn to frown. “Why would you think that? Sister Abi—” Jessamine stopped and bit off Abigail’s name. “I mean my maid told me he plans to propose to Laura this night.”
“So I’ve also been told, but if that is his plan, things are not going very smoothly with Laura dancing with your father and Tristan taking off out the front like he’s on a mission.”
Jessamine looked toward the front. The lake was in front of the hotel. An unfortunate accident by the lake. Abigail’s words stabbed through Jessamine’s mind. “Perhaps I can catch him,” she said as she turned away from Mrs. Cleveland.
“Wait, Jessamine.”
The woman tried to hold Jessamine’s arm, but Jessamine pulled away from her. There was no time. Even now, she might be too late. “I’ll explain later,” Jessamine called over her shoulder. She was relieved when the woman didn’t take a step to follow her.
Outside a dash of rain swept across the porch and sprayed Jessamine. She paid it little mind as she rushed down the steps and found the path toward the lake. Lightning crackled through the air and nearly blinded her as the thunder following it was almost instantaneous. Only a fool would be out in this storm. But she couldn’t turn back.
The lightning kept flickering like a lamp buffeted by the wind, its flame never completely extinguished. The thunder rumbled over her head as she braced herself for another ear-shattering boom. The rain began in earnest and she couldn’t see a thing. She knew she had started off on the path to the lake, but grass was under her feet now instead of the sandy path. She stopped and brushed her wet hair back from her face to peer through the rain when the lightning flickered.
A prayer rose up inside her that she mouthed aloud into the rain and wind. “Dear Lord, put my feet on the right path. Help me find him, please. I promise to listen better and not be wayward if only you’ll help me find him in time to warn him.”
She felt a stab of guilt for her prayer. It wasn’t proper to attempt to make bargains with the Eternal Father. He already owned everything, and other than a perfect life, a person had nothing to offer him. And nobody could live a perfect life. Certainly not Jessamine. But then what about King Hezekiah in the Bible who was given more years to live? Or King Solomon who was given wisdom. Perhaps not exactly a deal, but a gift. A gift. That’s what she needed. Just the gift of a point in the right direction. Please, Lord.
The rain slackened a little even as the wind picked up and blew her skirts and bothersome petticoats against her legs. How was a person supposed to run with all that cloth wrapping around her? She grabbed handfuls of her sodden skirt and the top layer of petticoats and lifted it up so she wouldn’t trip as she took a couple of hesitant steps in what she hoped was the right direction.
The storm was like a live thing poking at her from all sides trying to keep her from catching up with Tristan. She’d been wrong to rush out on her own. She should have grabbed her father off the dance floor and asked for his help, but instead she’d run directly into the storm without proper thought. How many times had Sister Sophrena taken her to task for the very same thing? Not thinking things through. But this time it might be a matter of life and death.
She shut her eyes and prayed with her whole spirit, the way she’d seen some of the Believers in meeting surrendering every bit of themselves to the Lord as they lifted their hands and began to shake. The way Sister Sophrena could do even with no visible sign of shaking as she prayed for Jessamine, but with her spirit open and believing. The way she’d heard her granny and the old preacher talk about how prayers could be when the Holy Spirit too
k over and made intercession with the Lord in groanings that could not be uttered.
And then whispering through her thoughts was Sister Sophrena’s voice. Engaged in thy duty, fear no danger. Was she engaged in her duty or was she so out of step her prayers would never be heard? Pray believing. This time it wasn’t Sister Sophrena’s voice in her head. It was Granny’s. When the way gets dark, that’s when you reach up for the good Lord’s hand. He’ll be there, reaching down for you, showing you the way.
The rain and wind didn’t let up, but the calm came inside her as she began to move forward again. The storm kept attacking her on all sides, but she was no longer trembling. Then as the lightning continued to flicker, she caught sight of the glint of water and a man moving toward it.
“Tristan,” she called, but the wind jerked his name out of the air and carried it in the wrong direction. She couldn’t even be sure the man in front of her was Tristan. But she grabbed up her skirts again and began to run.
Tristan thought he heard a voice, but with the wind he couldn’t tell from where. The wind was rising, pushing against his ears, no doubt fooling him. Jessamine wouldn’t have come out in this storm. She would be far too sensible for that. He should have been too sensible himself. Running out into a crashing thunderstorm with no more that a few scribbled words to lead him.
But what if she was there in the storm waiting for him? His mother would be furious because there was no way he could go back to the dance in his sodden clothes even if he was on a fool’s errand here. If she noticed. She’d seemed very happy in the lawyer’s arms dancing past him. As happy as Laura had looked in Sheldon Brady’s arms. They’d made their deal. He and Laura. A promise that required no romance but that would keep everybody happy. Everybody but him. Even Jessamine had seemed happy enough as she sat by the veranda doors, but then she was not there. Then he had the words on the note stuffed in his pocket.
The Gifted Page 34
