A Chance at Forever

by Melissa Jagears

  Evelyn backed away a little, looking her up and down, as if Mercy’s work dress, loose hair, and dirt smudges were worth noticing.

  Evelyn no longer looked like she used to when she had run this orphanage. She was a fine city lady now. The eyelet work around her shirtwaist’s collar, neckline, sleeves, and wrists was exquisitely fine. And that didn’t even take into account her fancy hairstyle and jewelry.

  “I’m so glad to see you again.” Evelyn looked around her, nodding at someone in the crowd. “You’ve been busy, I see.”

  “Yes.” She smiled at how easy it felt to be standing beside Evelyn again. Though they hadn’t known each other long before she’d married and moved away, Evelyn was one of the nicest women she’d ever known.

  Owen skidded in between them, grabbed Mercy’s sleeve, and tugged for attention. “I’m hungry.”

  She glanced around for Aaron. “Where’s Mr. Firebrook? Weren’t you supposed to—?”

  “He told me I had to ask you.”

  “Do you ever stop eating?” Feeding him lately had become an all-day project.

  “You know,” Evelyn said as she knelt beside him, “my girl isn’t much older than you, and she’s always hungry. I’m in the habit of having something in my bag at all times. Do you like oatmeal cookies?”

  He stiffened, his eyes wide. “With raisins?”

  Evelyn grimaced. “I’m afraid so.”

  “Good!” He rubbed his tummy and made an exaggerated slurp noise. “Those are so yummy.”

  Evelyn’s laugh was high and bright. “And here I thought you’d turn your nose up at them. My husband picks out the raisins.” She glanced up at Mercy and frowned. “Sorry. I should’ve asked first.”

  How could she say no when Owen’s smile was so big the dimple above his lip was on display? “It’s fine.”

  Owen did a little fidgety dance as he waited for Evelyn to unwrap the brown paper encasing the cookies.

  Once he had a treat in each hand, Mercy turned him around. “Why don’t you go sit on the balcony so the birds can clean up your crumbs?”

  “All right. I’ll even share my raisins with them.”

  “You don’t need—” But it was of no use telling him not to, since he was already halfway across the room.

  “Is he one of the orphans?”

  She turned back to Evelyn with a smile. “He is. Adorable, huh?”

  “Yes . . .” Her friend’s gaze seemed glued to Owen’s retreating form, a longing look in her eye. She’d adopted two of the mansion’s orphans months ago and had hoped to adopt Max and Robert as well. But Max had decided to continue his schooling in Teaville, and Robert had wanted to stay with his brother.

  “Our gardener has started the process of adopting him.”

  “Oh?” Evelyn’s features quickly schooled themselves. “I hope they do well together.”

  “I believe they will.” She was grateful she didn’t have to explain to Evelyn how long it had taken her to see the truth of that. “What’s brought you here?”

  Evelyn took her eyes off Owen, who was now sitting with legs splayed on the balcony. “Why, the auction, of course.”

  Mercy shook her head. “You can’t tell me you came all the way down from Kansas City for this auction.”

  “No, I came here for Max and Robert, and”—she turned in a wide circle, scanning the room—“Lydia wrote that they were selling the Hopkins landscape painting that used to hang in my room. I think they purposely put it in the auction to entice me down.” She rubbed her hands together and winked. “Since David said I could spend however much I wish, I intend to bid extravagantly—for the sake of the boys, of course.”

  “Of course.” She swallowed against the thickness in her throat. As Aaron had said, she needn’t worry, for God would take care of these boys.

  She blinked against the warmth of unexpected tears. Confronting Mrs. Sorenson hadn’t been fun, but it had been right, and God had taken care of the aftermath.

  And God would take care of her. Her brother wasn’t ultimately responsible for seeing to her needs. God was.

  29

  Aaron sat in the back of the ballroom, his foot tapping as the bidding on the diamond-and-sapphire ring Mercy had oohed and aahed over exceeded his savings. Not that he should’ve spent all his pennies on such a thing, but he’d hoped he could’ve gotten it for a steal.

  He took a deep breath and moved to the back window. At least Max and Robert would benefit from the bidding war. With nothing to bid on and Owen sitting with the other children, he figured he might as well find somewhere else to be or he’d end up staring at Mercy all night.

  She sat near the front with Charlie and Harrison Gray, laughing at something someone had said or done.

  It would be easy enough to go sit beside Mr. Gray, but if his teacher’s wife figured out how he felt about Mercy . . . Well, Charlie Gray’s brand of matchmaking was likely the kind that would make everyone squirm.

  He looked out the window, the shadows just starting to darken the manicured lawn and neatly trimmed bushes. He’d worked hard this past week to make sure the grounds made his employer look good, but now he didn’t have anything to do. With the auction nearly over, he’d soon be needed to help load wagons, but other than that, he had the night off. Maybe he should read one of his gardening books. Before he could turn from the window, he noticed a person dart across the lawn and duck behind one of the garden’s short walls.

  Jimmy?

  Earlier, the boy’s attitude had gotten the better of him, and Nicholas had sent him to his room, so the boy shouldn’t be outside. But when did Jimmy ever obey? He’d done well after returning from Mr. Ragsdale’s, but that hadn’t lasted long.

  Aaron scanned the garden, waiting for him to reappear, but he saw no one. Was the person lying down behind the wall, or had he missed him leaving? Aaron sighed and made his way to the stairs. Who else but Jimmy could it be?

  Of course the boy would take advantage of everyone being distracted to do as he pleased. And with the terrible way he’d acted earlier, what if he was in the mood to destroy things? He’d believed Jimmy hadn’t set the fire at Mr. Ragsdale’s, but that didn’t mean he’d never burn something down.

  Picking up his pace, but not enough to alarm people, Aaron made his way down two flights of stairs and out the back door. He walked through the garden, hoping to find Jimmy smoking, slumped behind the wall. But he wasn’t there.

  Aaron sighed and hopped atop the low stone wall to see if he could spot the boy, or at least a tendril of smoke coming from his pipe.

  A nearly imperceptible sound turned his head to the east. Was Jimmy in the cellar again?

  Aaron jumped off the wall and approached the cellar slowly, his fingers stretched apart to keep them from forming fists. He would not lose control again and spring into an unnecessary fight. Taking deep, slow breaths he walked at a normal pace toward the cellar. Scraping noises sounded from the half-buried outbuilding, but no voices.

  Aaron descended the stairwell quietly.

  Please let me be about to disturb nothing more than a coon or a stray cat.

  Dim light seeped into the cellar from behind him, and he could just make out Jimmy dragging a shabby mattress toward the trash pile, which, strangely, now contained paintings, polished vases, and intact dishware.

  He cleared his throat, and Jimmy jumped a few inches, throwing the mattress halfway onto the pile.

  “What are you doing?” Aaron took the last step down into the crumbling cellar.

  “Smoking.”

  Aaron stood there with his hands on his hips. “Don’t lie.”

  “I’m not.” Jimmy grabbed something off the ground and held it up—a woman’s silver cigarette case. “See?”

  Where would he have gotten that? Though with the number of people in attendance tonight, he could’ve swiped it off half a dozen ladies. “Why don’t you tell me the truth?”

  Jimmy stood stone-faced.

  Aaron walked the last two steps toward
him, then flung the mattress back. He stared at a pile of silverware, a set of crystal bowls, a clock, the gardening shears he’d thought he’d lost, plus a couple dozen other shiny things. He pointed to a picture tucked behind a mirror. “That’s the water lily painting Mrs. Wisely wanted to bid on tonight. Did you think we’d not notice it missing?”

  Jimmy shrugged and then, quick as a wink, darted for the door.

  Aaron rushed forward and caught him by the arm at the last second. The boy yanked against him and kicked his shin, but Aaron refused to loosen his grip. After taking a few more wild blows, he wrapped Jimmy in a hard embrace, keeping as calm as he could while the boy kicked his legs, clawed at his face, and cursed nonstop.

  After a couple long minutes, the boy finally slumped.

  Aaron loosened his hold, but only enough to keep from hurting Jimmy. “Tell me, why are you stealing from people who are bending over backward to help you when everyone else would’ve kicked you out for how you behave?”

  “You’ve got it all wrong.” Jimmy’s voice was winded yet still defiant.

  “I’m not stupid. All right, maybe I was stupid the last time I caught you in here and let my anger get the best of me. . . . But wait . . . does Zachary have something to do with your stealing?” He forced himself not to tighten his grip on Jimmy’s arm, though the familiar heat of anger and regret welled inside him. “He wasn’t doing anything to you at all, was he? Or if he was, you likely started it.”

  Jimmy stayed as stiff as a board. “It doesn’t matter,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “Yes it does.” Shaking the boy wouldn’t do him any good. Instead, Aaron took three long, steady breaths. “Everything you or I do matters, for good or for ill. The more terrible things you do, the more likely you’ll find yourself alone in this world.”

  “I’m already alone.”

  “It certainly is hard to have friends when you act as you do.”

  “You don’t understand.” Jimmy tried to wiggle free again but quickly gave up. “Friends just mess everything up.”

  “How so?”

  The boy stilled. It was almost as if Aaron could hear the boy’s jaw wiring shut.

  “Come on, tell me.” Should he chance losing his grip by releasing him enough to look him in the eye? “I know what it’s like not to have friends. I’d like to be yours if you let me. But you have to tell me what you’re up to so I can help.”

  “You don’t want to be my friend. You just want me to talk,” he spat.

  “No, I want to help. But if you’re unwilling, I could haul you to the police station.”

  “Don’t.”

  Was that desperation in his voice?

  Did jail actually frighten him? “And why shouldn’t I? The evidence to lock you up is all right here.”

  “I’m not the one stealing.”

  “Right, and I’m heir to the throne of England.”

  Jimmy shrugged against him. “I mean, I’m not doing it because I want to. My mother’s making me.”

  Mother? “But only orphans live in an orphanage.”

  “I’m orphan enough, since she cares nothing for me. If I don’t steal, she . . . she . . .”

  “She what?” His temperature shot up again, but he forced himself to work on breathing calmly. He’d not go after someone in a fit of rage based on this boy’s insinuations again.

  Jimmy did nothing more than shake his head.

  “Fine, if she’s the one making you steal, we’ll make a police report and put her behind bars.”

  Jimmy’s heart beat hard against the arm Aaron had clamped across his chest. “Oh no. Once she got out, I’d be doomed.”

  “How doomed?” The fact that Jimmy’s heart had noticeably kicked up convinced him Jimmy’s mother was a real threat.

  “Let me go.” The boy suddenly dropped and almost escaped his hold.

  “No.” Aaron struggled to get a better grip as he went down with him to the ground.

  “If you don’t let me go, I can’t show you.”

  Aaron stilled, trying to catch his breath. Should he trust him? He could drag Jimmy to the police, but it wouldn’t do any good unless he talked. Turning so he was between Jimmy and the door, he released him, holding out his arms, poised to catch him again.

  Jimmy started rolling up his sleeve.

  Did the boy intend to fight him? Had he not seen what he’d done to his brother? “Jim—”

  “There.” Jimmy thrust out his arm.

  Aaron narrowed his eyes, trying to see whatever it was he was showing him. “The burn you got after you set fire to Mr. Ragsdale’s haystack?” Surely Jimmy didn’t think he was stupid enough to forget where that scar had come from.

  “I didn’t start the fire. One of my mother’s lovers did. Nothing I stole from the farmer was half as good as what I swiped from here, so Zachary told me to get back to the mansion. I tried to behave bad enough Mr. Ragsdale would send me back, but she sent Joe to speed things up.”

  “And the burn?”

  Jimmy rolled his sleeve back down and slumped against the wall. “Mr. Ragsdale wasn’t so bad he deserved having his stuff burned down, so I tried to stop Joe. He burned me with his Magic Pocket Lamp for trying. After I begged him to let me go, he threw a burning, oil-soaked rag into the haystack.”

  The boy’s face grew hard. “Don’t mess with my mother, Mr. Firebrook. Even if you decided you could hit a woman, you can’t hit all the goons she works with. They’re greedy and mean, every last one of them. One’s even a copper who covers for her.”

  Quite the tale for a thirteen-year-old to pull together out of thin air. Aaron relaxed a little. “I don’t know about the police, but I’m sure Mr. Lowe and I can keep you safe until we figure out what to do. But first we have to take this stuff back. The Lowes are having a hard enough time financing their charities and businesses right now without you stealing things.”

  “But we can’t take this stuff back. If she finds out I returned it, she’ll send someone to get me.”

  “How’s she going to know?”

  “Because I don’t choose what I steal. Zachary tells me what to get and where to find it. Someone hides it—a maid, maybe, I don’t know—and if no one notices long enough, it’s my job to bring it here so Zachary can take it to my mother. He’s never been in the mansion though, so sometimes he doesn’t give me good directions.”

  Aaron pointed to the paintings. “And the stuff from the auction?”

  He shrugged. “I decided to pick up a few things. It’s not like anyone will miss them with all they’ve got up there. And if Max and Robert get charity, why can’t I? Zachary says my mother’s already mad at me since I haven’t been able to smuggle much out this past week.” He huffed and folded his hands over his chest. “It’s not my fault the house is so full of people getting ready for this stupid auction I can’t sneak things out.”

  “And you say you don’t know who in the house is working for your mother?”

  Jimmy wilted, shaking his head. “They won’t tell me. Said I’m too stupid not to get caught if I do it myself.”

  Since the boy’s explanation made him look weak, it was probably true. Aaron ran a hand through his hair. If Jimmy’s mother was fine with a man burning her son and destroying a random man’s property, she was heartless and dangerous. They needed a plan, but there wasn’t enough time to think one through.

  A slight uptick of noise drew his attention. Backing out of the cellar but keeping his eye on Jimmy, he walked up just enough to hear chairs screeching and excited conversations floating out of the open ballroom windows.

  The auction was over. No chance to return these items onto the block. And within minutes, the staff would notice he wasn’t helping load wagons.

  He scanned the stuff in the pile. “When’s Zachary coming to get this?”

  “Tonight. Says with all the people leaving with stuff, no one will notice him.”

  The pocket watches, hair combs, jewelry, silverware, and all the rest were simply t
oo much to let disappear. Aaron leaned over, picked up a vase, and tucked it under his arm. “Grab as much as you can carry and help me take everything to my cabin.”

  Jimmy only stood there.

  Apparently coming clean about his illegal activity didn’t make him any more inclined to obey.

  Aaron stuffed a watch and a couple of forks into his pocket. He picked up a golden horse statue and thrust it toward Jimmy. “We don’t have much time before people notice I’m missing, and if Zachary’s waiting until the crowds are milling around outside, we’ve only got a handful of minutes to get this stuff out of here.”

  “Didn’t you hear me?” Jimmy shook his head. “I’ll be in trouble if Zachary finds nothing here. Do you think he’ll just shrug his shoulders and leave without trying to get me?”

  “He won’t be able to, because you’ll be helping me load wagons. Stay within my sight at all times.” He piled more into Jimmy’s arms, then turned him around and gave him a light shove. “Let’s go.”

  Jimmy’s steps were sluggish, but at least he started forward. “You might as well just turn me in. If there’s not a cellar full of stuff tonight, they’ll know something’s wrong. If they find out I’ve snitched on them . . .”

  “That’s why you’re to stay with me at all times.”

  “You mean . . . you believe me?” Jimmy’s voice shook as he looked back, his mouth near trembling.

  “I believe you’re in danger, yes.” If he’d had the guts years ago to tell someone what his uncle was doing to him, he’d have feared for his life too. If his uncle had gotten wind of his tattling, Aaron might not have survived his next encounter with his namesake. “Don’t worry—we’ll figure out what to do to keep you safe.”

  Even if the boy turned out to be lying, Aaron would do what he could to help him until his story was disproven. “Come on.” Aaron prodded him up the cellar steps.

  Jimmy huffed and trudged up onto the lawn.