A Chance at Forever

by Melissa Jagears

  The baby had yet to wake enough to nurse, and with the way the woman lay there, hardly aware of her surroundings, would she smother the infant?

  Mercy picked the baby back up and tried to coax water into her mouth with a spoon.

  The boy sat slumped in the chair beside her, watching.

  “I want you to give them water every fifteen minutes, all right?” She handed him the baby and towel she’d used to catch the water dribbling from her slack mouth. “Use this spoon unless you have clean bottles. Make sure you see her throat moving—that means she’s swallowing. Why don’t you try to get her to drink while I look for something?”

  The boy sighed and coughed, but he seemed confident enough with the baby she could leave him.

  In the other room, she found a small trunk. After emptying its contents, she took a woolen blanket and folded it to fit the bottom before dragging the chest into the front room. She pushed it against the bed and the nightstand, then took the babe from her older brother and set her in the makeshift bassinet. She pulled the lamp closer to be sure the infant didn’t sink too far into the improvised mattress when something shiny caught her eye by the wall between the bed and table.

  A golden circle with a blue center. Her breath stilled. It couldn’t be.

  She reached past the trunk to pick it up.

  In her hand lay a blue-enameled, double cuff link identical to the ones Patricia had given Timothy for their anniversary last year.

  Had she seen Timothy wearing them lately? She hadn’t, but she didn’t pay attention to what he wore every day. What were the chances another man would have this exact same set with this particular swirl pattern? Patricia had bought the costly pair in Kansas City.

  But how could it be her brother’s? There was no reason for him to ever have been in Lily White’s cabin.

  Could it have been stolen? She looked around but didn’t see the other, and who kept things they’d stolen lying about on the floor?

  Of course, maybe they’d stolen both and lost one, but with Timothy’s drinking, the hours of unaccountable absence, the way he’d been at odds with his wife for a while now . . .

  Mercy sank to her knees beside the trunk, staring at the cufflink.

  And here she’d thought the stresses of the orphanage had caused her brother’s marital discord and driven him to drink. Perhaps it wasn’t the orphanage’s fault at all.

  The woman beside her groaned, and Mercy closed her eyes. This woman had likely played a huge part in her family’s unraveling.

  But as Aaron and Sadie had said, these women wouldn’t be here if not for the men. If the men would choose to be upright, honest, faithful . . . She wrapped her hand tightly around the cuff link, until it bit into her skin. She pressed the blunted end of her other arm against her temple, wanting to banish the sudden jolt of a headache.

  What was Timothy thinking? Drinking was bad enough. How could he possibly justify this?

  Now wasn’t the time to mentally interrogate her brother. Nothing she could do in this cabin would fix her family.

  Besides, she could be leaping to the wrong conclusion.

  Oh please, God. Let me be assuming things that just aren’t true.

  She pushed herself off her knees, dropped the cuff link into her pocket, and stuffed a handful of rags into the water left in the pitcher. She looked to the boy, who stared at her listlessly. “I know you don’t feel well, but you need to make sure your family’s fevers stay down, especially your baby sister’s. Put these rags on them like this.” Mercy showed the boy how to care for his sick family with orders to fetch the doctor if his baby sister stayed lethargic much longer.

  Once he sat next to his mother and took over, Mercy exited the cabin, only to lean against the door, fingering the cuff link in her pocket.

  What was she going to do? How could confronting her brother with such an accusation turn out any better than when she’d confronted him about his drinking?

  She closed her eyes against the sun and shook her head. Whatever she decided to do, she couldn’t do it tonight.

  Her world might be crumbling, but she’d not let Robert and Max suffer because of it. She had an auction to run.

  28

  “I’m sorry to interrupt.”

  Mercy stopped arranging last-minute donations on the ballroom table and looked over her shoulder at Mrs. Wisely. “No problem. Is the auctioneer here?” With the number of people slowly trickling into the ballroom, she’d hoped to have seen him earlier.

  “Yes, Mr. Hollingford arrived about twenty minutes ago. He’s downstairs asking Henri about the car’s details.”

  Good. Mercy handed Owen a fistful of scrap paper. If he was going to be underfoot all night, he might as well help. “Take this to the trash chute, darling.”

  Owen skipped off, and Mercy took a second glance at the clock on the table. “Is it half past six already?” Surely the clock was wrong. There should be far more people here if this auction was going to go well.

  Mrs. Wisely chuckled and tapped the donated timepiece. “No, it’s five forty-five. This one needs to be wound. What I came to ask you was, have you seen my grandmother’s tortoiseshell combs? I figured Mrs. Naples might like them, but I can’t find them.”

  Mercy looked around the ballroom packed with tables piled high with more things than Mrs. Sorenson had left with. Last-minute donations had poured in so fast half of the items were still a jumble. “I’m afraid I haven’t.”

  Mrs. Wisely moved to Mercy’s other side to flip through a stack of canvases leaning against the table. “Do you remember if that water lily painting belonged to Mrs. Sorenson? I wanted to bid on it but haven’t seen it either.”

  Mercy puffed out a breath. “I don’t think it was hers, but with all the paintings she had, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone accidentally sent her home with it.”

  Mrs. Wisely frowned at the last painting, then leaned them back against the table. “Well, I hope it’s somewhere, because I have the perfect place for it.” She turned back to Mercy. “Is there anything I can get you before I check on Mr. Hollingford again?”

  She shook her head. She’d given Mrs. Wisely the job of dealing with the auctioneer because she wasn’t sure she could handle much tonight. She put her hand in her pocket and fingered the cuff link. “Have you seen my brother? He promised to help.”

  “I haven’t. But when I do, I’ll tell him you’re looking for him.”

  “I . . .”

  Mrs. Wisely must not have heard her and walked off, weaving through the auction goers clumped in front of tables. Hopefully the older woman would be too busy to find Timothy, because Mercy wasn’t particularly interested in talking to her brother at the moment. She’d only been hoping he was here, as he should be.

  Owen skipped back. “Now what?”

  She shook her head. The boy wanted to help, but her patience was on edge. “Have you seen the painting of a pond with water lilies on it?”

  He nodded his head.

  “Where is it?”

  He shook his head.

  So much for that lead. But what could she expect from a five-year-old? She beckoned him to follow. “Help me look through these stacks for it, would you?”

  They flipped through the paintings, but looking at the tops, she was fairly certain they’d not find it. Lately, all sorts of things had gone missing, only to show up in the strangest places.

  They’d yet to find Patricia’s opal ring, the prism that had hung in the music room’s window, and a crystal ashtray Owen swore he’d not taken outside to play with in the mud.

  What if her brother was pawning mansion property to pay for his carousing? Wouldn’t Patricia have noticed him spending more lately? Even if she could overlook her husband’s bar tabs, surely she wouldn’t tolerate his spending money on being unfaithful.

  Mercy glanced across the room at Patricia, who was once again sitting and fanning herself as the rest of the women unpacked last-minute items and straightened chairs.

 
Mercy put her hand into her pocket to confirm that Mr. MacDonald’s money was still there.

  Since God had orchestrated all of these last-minute donations, she shouldn’t worry about a few missing pieces.

  If only she had peace about what she needed to do after the auction. She squeezed the money in her hand. She didn’t know for certain that her brother had visited Miss Lily White, and the thought of confronting him with such an accusation made her stomach tie itself in knots.

  “Be careful, Jimmy, or you’ll drop them.” Cook’s voice, more frustrated than normal, traveled across the room.

  “I made it all the way up the stairs with them, didn’t I?” The boy sneered at her back while carrying a tray of hors d’oeuvres.

  Cook skirted a group of women admiring jewelry, shooting a glare over her shoulder. “You need to drop the attitude.”

  “Oh, like this?” He stopped beside her and dropped his platter onto the table. A couple sandwiches flopped onto the tablecloth.

  Cook set down her own platter and gathered up the ruined snacks. “Why they ever let you help, I don’t know.” She turned to glare at Mercy for a second before dumping the little sandwiches into a nearby trash bin.

  Mercy rubbed a hand down her face. Why had Jimmy’s churlish attitude returned this week? He’d been doing so well.

  Mercy sighed and reached for Owen. “Come on. Seems I need to go have a talk with Jimmy.”

  Owen stuck his little hand in hers and jumped and skipped beside her as if she were going to ask Jimmy to play rather than lecture the boy.

  Jimmy watched her advance with a smirk on his face. He probably expected her to banish him to his room. He’d been complaining about working since he rolled out of bed, so that was likely what he wanted.

  Of course, torturing the staff with a belligerent child today might be worse than caving to him. “What’s the matter, Jimmy?”

  “Nothing.” His smirk widened. “I got the snacks up here safe and sound, didn’t I?”

  Cook shook her head and bustled off.

  Didn’t he understand how important this night could be, even for him? Any number of auction goers could be potential adoptive parents, and Robert and Max’s speeches could move them to want to help an orphan. If Jimmy had any chance of being adopted after the fire at Mr. Ragsdale’s, he couldn’t make such a bad impression in front of so many. “You need to work harder at being kind and respectful. No one wants to adopt a boy who fights with them over everything.”

  “Well, maybe I don’t want to be adopted. You ever think about that?”

  She frowned down at Owen. Thankfully he seemed to be more interested in something happening across the room than in listening to Jimmy. She lowered her voice, hoping Owen’s attention remained elsewhere. “Have you considered that this orphanage might not be here forever? If it closes and everyone in town thinks you’re a troublemaker, no one’s going to take you in. Would you rather be sent off to some orphanage across the state or settled into a nice home here?”

  “I don’t need anybody. I can live on my own.”

  At thirteen? If he did so, what hope was there that he’d not end up in jail? “That’s what I’m afraid of, Jimmy.”

  He turned to storm off, but she snatched his arm.

  “Please try harder to be lovable. Make it easier on all of us, all right? I promise, if you act better, your life will get better.”

  He yanked his arm from her hand and opened his mouth to retort, but something behind her squelched his response. He shut his mouth and glared past her shoulder before spinning and stomping away.

  She turned to find Aaron walking toward her and couldn’t help but smile at how his mere presence had made Jimmy straighten up a little. At least someone was affecting the boy for the better.

  Aaron glanced down to her mouth for a second, and she held her breath as he neared.

  Had he had as much trouble as she had these last few days, trying to think of anything other than their kiss?

  Well, until her brother and his cuff link filled her head with far worse ruminations.

  “Are you ready?” He stopped in front of her.

  “I suppose I have to be, since people are already crowding in.” Some things could’ve been better arranged, but if items got sold in a crate, so be it.

  Aaron stood looking at her as if they weren’t in a room filled with people and Owen wasn’t looking up at both of them.

  Could people tell they’d kissed just by looking at them?

  She had to do something other than stare back. The money in her pocket crinkled under her hand, and she latched onto that. “I went into town today and got a monetary donation from Mr. MacDonald. A providential way to start off the evening, I think.”

  Of course, discovering where her brother wiled away his hours when he wasn’t at the mansion had immediately squashed all the happy feelings the fifty-dollar donation had given her.

  “I’m glad.” Aaron’s smile remained lazy and settled.

  Sadie and Franklin passed by, his hand at the small of her back. If they could work through their issues, perhaps she and Aaron had a chance. Was it possible she might not need her brother’s protection forever?

  “What’s that look for?”

  She blinked up at him. “What look?”

  “You dropped the furrowed brow and looked utterly content for a second.”

  She put her hand to her cheek. Oh, she had to be careful. Though she’d learned not to judge Aaron by how he once acted, that didn’t mean she should hope he’d marry her.

  Though if she wanted to tell anyone about what she’d found out today, it would be him. Along with all her hopes, her worries, the funny things she noticed throughout the day.

  And if he just happened to want to kiss her again—

  “How much did you get?” His eyes twinkled.

  “What?” Her body flushed. If she wasn’t careful, everyone in the room would know how she was feeling about him before the auction was over. “Oh, the donation. Fifty dollars.”

  Aaron’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s great. You’re well on your way to getting Max and Robert what they need.”

  She hoped so. But what about the rest of the orphans? What about—?

  “Don’t fret.” Aaron pulled her hand away from where she was worrying her lace collar. “You’ve done a superb job with the boys, and their speeches will persuade many into being generous.”

  A superb job with the boys? Timothy and Patricia certainly hadn’t done much for the orphans, and what she’d done had little to do with how well they’d turned out.

  Owen tugged on her skirt. “Can I have something to drink?”

  She put a hand to the back of her neck and looked down at him. “Oh, honey, this isn’t a good time for me to leave.”

  “But I’m thirsty.”

  “I can take him,” Aaron offered.

  Owen pressed against her legs as if he’d gone back to being wary of Aaron.

  She stooped down beside the boy. He had to get more comfortable with his soon-to-be guardian quickly, for once she confronted her brother, if her suspicions turned out to be true, Owen would likely be under Aaron’s care sooner than expected. “Go with Mr. Firebrook and get yourself a drink.”

  Owen didn’t say anything, just stared into her eyes, his body tense.

  She rubbed his arms. “On your way down, ask him all those questions you were asking me earlier: why some birds sing pretty and some don’t, what happens to your food when you eat it, and all the others I haven’t had time to answer. Aaron’s pretty special. He wants to help all the children he can. I bet he’ll be happy to answer anything you ask him.”

  Owen gave a little roll of his shoulders but dragged his feet forward.

  Aaron looked at her for a second, his Adam’s apple bobbing with a big swallow, but then nodded at Owen. “I’m not sure I know the answer to the bird question, but—”

  “Are you just going to tell me it’s because God made it so, like Mrs. McClain does?” Owen
sighed.

  Aaron chuckled. “Well, that’s the easy answer. But this world has reason and thought behind it—since God designed it—and science helps us figure that out. I bet since we’re both smart fellows, we can come up with a good guess, or what we call a hypothesis.”

  “You sound like a teacher.”

  Despite Owen spitting that out as if it were an insult, Aaron smiled even bigger. “I’m afraid that’s because I . . . am one.”

  And her heart melted, right then and there, as the realization spread over his face. Yes, he’d become a teacher. A good one. Even if he wasn’t going to school every day or getting paid a teacher’s salary, he was making a difference. He might not be able to make up for his past entirely, but she couldn’t fault his attempts.

  Aaron put his hand on the back of Owen’s neck, herding him off toward the exit. “Come, let’s get you water.”

  Across the room, her brother’s laughter stole her attention.

  So he’d finally arrived.

  She let out a sigh, yet it didn’t make her feel much better. Though she didn’t have to worry now about what he might be doing, that didn’t change the fact that she would have to figure out if what he did when he wasn’t here was bad enough to tell Nicholas.

  Timothy looked relaxed conversing with a wealthy-looking couple while Patricia hung on his arm. For all the world, they looked as if they were happy together.

  Butterflies fluttered in Mercy’s stomach. But they weren’t happy butterflies.

  If she told Nicholas about what she’d found at Lily White’s, what would happen? Timothy should definitely not be in charge of these children if he dallied with prostitutes, but he’d likely blame her if Nicholas fired him. What if her brother refused to provide for her in any way?

  She couldn’t count on Aaron to save her, for even if they became romantically involved, he’d not propose tomorrow—maybe not even a year from now, if he ever would.

  “Mercy?”

  She turned, and her mouth fell open. “Evelyn?” She rushed over to her friend, standing in a navy blue gown that bespoke her new wealth. She pulled her into a huge hug, despite the woman being a good six inches taller than her. “Whatever are you doing here? I haven’t seen you in months.”