Cinders to Satin

by Fern Michaels

  Dr. Margolis was tempted to bend over the bed and reassure the child somehow, but his bedside manner failed him when he noticed the look of misery in the child’s eyes. Were they pleading or simply frightened? He didn’t know. He patted her head gently and turned to leave.

  Mary’s miserable, pinched face told Callie all she needed to know. She gathered the child closely to her and crooned soft words as she stroked the tangled red curls. They would wait. Both of them would wait. There was nothing else to do.

  With three chairs and a love seat to choose from, Dr. Margolis chose a comfortable-looking chair as far from the love seat as he could get. The look of disappointment on Anne Powers’s face was almost laughable. He had to get to the point as quickly as possible and pretend to enjoy this small feast. And it was a feast. Never had he seen such an elaborate tea. The array of cakes and tiny sandwiches would feed ten immigrants.

  Anne Powers poured tea from a silver pot. Margolis noted the unattractive brown spots and large veins standing out on the backs on her hands. It must be a burden for women to grow old, he thought. The things he found unattractive in women wouldn’t bother him in the least-if he saw them in a man. Wrinkles, thinning hair, and brown spots on the flesh added character to a man. In a woman they were signs of age. Time and age were a woman’s enemy. He couldn’t get off the track here. He had to accept the tea, make a pretense of nibbling the decorative sandwiches, ask his questions, and leave this house, preferably without another amorous encounter.

  “Tell me, doctor, how did you find Mary?” Anne hoped her voice had the proper mixture of maternal concern and worldliness.

  “A minor stomach ache. She’ll be fine tomorrow. Let her stay in bed for the balance of the day. Tea and toast.”

  “I thought so myself, but I did want to be sure. Children come down with any assortment of things from time to time. When she contracted the measles, I was terrified by her high fever.” Anne gave a delicate shudder to make her point. “You see, Dr. Margolis,” she said, quietly leaning across the small tea table, “Mary is the apple of her father’s eye, and if she came down with something and I didn’t call a doctor, I shudder to think what he might say or do.”

  “Where is Mr. Powers?”

  “In Boston. I don’t expect him back for some time. Possibly a month, even longer,” she said coyly over the rim of her teacup.

  “That long?”

  “Business. We all know what that’s like. Take yourself, Dr. Margolis. You look very tired. Yet you keep making house calls because you’re dedicated. My husband is dedicated to his business too. Why do you ask?”

  “No reason, Mrs. Powers, no reason at all.”

  “Call me Anne. We’ve been most fortunate with our children. They’re rarely sick. Rossiter never got ill until this last time when you treated him. Very foolishly, I admit, he wandered about in the rain with his sister. Anne is subject to headaches. Even as a small child she was never ill. Mary is as strong as an ox. I’ve never had to call the doctor for her.” Goodness, how easy it was to talk to this wonderful man. The interest he was taking in her children was simply . . . wonderful. Everything was wonderful.

  “That’s amazing, simply amazing. You’re most fortunate, Mrs. . . Anne, that your children are so healthy. Other parents would envy you. Mary seems a very happy child.”

  “Oh, she is. She’s even happier now that my husband engaged her companion.” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial tone and rushed on. “We were having a bit of a problem with Mary. Why, for a short period of time she was willful, disrespectful, and almost beyond our control. She shrieked and wailed and carried on like you wouldn’t believe. Why, she even went so far as to ignore us when we spoke to her. My husband was at his wit’s end. I knew it was a stage she was going through. Then Callie, that’s the companion, came to us and from that day on Mary has been a wonderful little girl, just like before. She still shrieks a bit and has a high-pitched voice, but we’ve all come to live with it.” She could tell this man anything. Imagine confiding her child’s personal problems to a doctor. How understanding he was. There should be no secrets between them.

  “Amazing. Are you telling me Mary never had sore throats and ear aches?”

  “Good heavens, yes. She’s had her share of sore throats but never an ear ache. My older daughter never had ear aches, either. Now that I think about it, Rossiter never had ear aches, either.”

  “Remarkable. How long has Mary had her companion? I find that a bit unusual at her age.” He hoped his tone was as complimentary as he could make it.

  “Almost two years. My husband insisted. Actually she does have other duties here, light ones, but mainly she takes care of Mary.”

  “I don’t mean to be inquisitive, but what happens when the baby arrives?”

  The small bite-sized sandwich stopped in mid-air. Evan Margolis had never seen a flesh and blood still life before. A warning bell sounded somewhere in the deep recesses of his brain. Was it possible Anne Powers was unaware of the companion’s condition as well as her daughter’s hearing? Good God, what did the woman do, live in a cocoon? Her face was chalk white, her reddened lips a crimson slash in her face. Margolis remembered the handsome young son he’d treated last spring. Rossiter. The warning bell pealed louder. Surely he’d put his foot in it this time. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about a clutching, groping attack in the hallway again. Anne Powers was somewhere else at the moment. He would have wagered a year’s medical fees that she had forgotten his very existence. No sense compounding the problem of the child’s hearing at the moment. Besides, he wanted to think about it a little longer and perhaps get in touch with a colleague who specialized in ear treatment before he spoke to Jasper Powers. Now he must smooth things over.

  “I do want to thank you for a lovely tea. You’re not to concern yourself with your little girl. She’s going to be fine. You look tired, Mrs. Powers. I’ll leave a sedative here on the table. Take it if you feel the need. Thank you again for the tea. Don’t get up. I’ll see myself out.”

  “What?” Anne Powers said blankly.

  “I said I can let myself out.”

  “Yes, yes, you do that. Thank you for coming.”

  The sound of the front door closing shook Anne from her deep thoughts. With a wild, angry motion she lashed out at the tea table and swept china, food, and silverware to the floor. He was gone. Mary was all right. Callie was pregnant! The little slut, Rossiter’s child. How dare she! Evan hadn’t said anything about coming back, of seeing her again. Of course not, and it was all Callie’s fault. He had such a knowing look in his eyes as though he knew that Rossiter was the father of the girl’s child. Now what was she to do? She’d be the laughing stock among her friends. She would get no help from Jasper when he returned. Get rid of her. That was the answer. Now. The sooner the better. Mary would survive. What did she care what Jasper thought! She had the family to consider. The fact that she herself had been willing to sully that same family just minutes ago didn’t occur to her.

  She had to think, make some plan of action. Mary would throw a tantrum and behave like a wild banshee. She would have to put up with it or slap her a time or two to quiet her. Mary was just a child.

  Looking at the debris on the floor, her best china, her best silver, did nothing for her frame of mind. She had never liked Callie from the day she entered the house. She was honest enough with herself to admit that the main reason she didn’t care for the girl was because Jasper hadn’t consulted with her before agreeing to take her off Byrch Kenyon’s hands. As far as Jasper was concerned, Callie could do no wrong. Jasper never fooled her for a minute. He was disappointed in Rossiter, and his older daughter left him with a feeling that he was around merely to provide for her. Mary, with her wild, willful ways, was the apple of his eye.

  The nursery was middle-of-the-night quiet when Anne Powers thrust open the door. The movement caught Mary’s eye, and she burrowed deeper into the crook of Callie’s arm.

  Caught like a thief,
that was how Callie James looked, Anne thought smugly. How far along was she? Two months, three? It was hard to tell.

  “I want to talk to you. Now,” she said, addressing the companion, “come with me into your room. Leave Mary here.”

  Callie disengaged the stranglehold the child had on her and gently laid her back against the pillows. “Your Mamán wants to talk to me,” she whispered. Mary’s frightened eyes pleaded with Callie not to leave her. Callie smiled and let her eyes convey the message that Mary wanted. Everything would be all right.

  The moment the door closed behind her mother and Callie, Mary bounded out of bed and flew to the door of Callie’s room. She peeked through the keyhole, hoping she could watch the discussion and find out exactly what was going on. Whatever it was, it wasn’t going to be good for Callie. Too often she had seen that look on her mother’s face.

  Callie sat on the edge of her bed, her hands folded primly in front of her; Mrs. Powers took a chair opposite. Her gaze was respectful when she stared straight at her employer. She had to think about Mary and her hearing problem. She would take her punishment and plead . . . what would she plead? Ignorance? Say that a childish promise to a little girl made by another girl should be honored? But she wasn’t a little girl any longer. Childish promises no longer held. Honor? Stand tall and take whatever verbal abuse the lady of the house handed out. Jasper Powers, when he found out, would understand. She had to remember that. She had to hold fast to that thought.

  “Dr. Margolis tells me you’re pregnant,” Mrs. Powers said. Callie didn’t know what she had expected, but this opening statement wasn’t it. A wave of nausea washed over her as she tried to return Mrs. Powers’s penetrating stare. She was forced to lower her eyes. She couldn’t bear the look of disgust she saw on the older woman’s face.

  “You thought you hoodwinked me, didn’t you? Well, you didn’t. I was wise to your shenanagins from the moment you set eyes on Rossiter’s portrait. You didn’t know I saw you mooning about, staring at his picture in the parlor, did you? Rossiter is a handsome young man, and women fall in love with him at the drop of a hat. You’re unsuitable for my son. I cannot allow you even to think there could be something between the two of you. I don’t want to hear any self-righteous talk about you carrying my son’s child. How do I know it’s Rossiter’s child? Because you say so? Any girl who would do what you did would do it with any man. You can’t stay here any longer. I have my family to consider. I don’t want Mary to know anything of this. You’re to pack your bags and be gone within the hour. I never want to see you again.” At Callie’s stricken look she rushed on, “Don’t hold out any grand hopes that my son is going to rush to your side. He isn’t. He’s marrying someone else in Boston. He fell in love while we were there with a wonderful, young lady. There is no room in Rossiter’s life for you. Be sure you understand that fact.”

  Callie raised miserable eyes to Mrs. Powers. Thank God there was nothing mentioned about Mary and her hearing problem. Leave. She had to leave this house. She was never to see Rossiter again. How could she live without Rossiter? All her dreams, all her hopes for the future were dashed. Where could she go? What could she do? How was it possible that Rossiter didn’t love her? How could he marry someone else? She was unsuitable. What an awful, hateful word. She was the same person she always was. But now she was unsuitable for Rossiter Powers. She wasn’t an heiress. Money, then, made the difference.

  “I don’t know where to go,” Callie said miserably.

  “That’s your problem, You should have thought about that before you enticed my son into your bed. Surely you weren’t stupid enough to think he would actually marry the likes of you. Yes. I guess you were. Call on your friend, Byrch Kenyon. After all, he was the one who foisted you off on my husband. I’m sure he can find some place for you to go. I don’t want you in this house one minute longer than necessary. Get your things together and be out of here as soon as possible.”

  “Mrs. Powers, what about Mary? Who will take care of Mary?”

  “That’s no longer your concern. Mary will have to get along without you. Don’t even speak the child’s name to me, you have no right. Do you think I want her seeing what you are? Knowing what you’ve done with her brother?”

  Callie dabbed at her eyes with the hem of her apron. “I loved Rossiter, Mrs. Powers. Truly I did. This baby is Rossiter’s child. It’s your flesh and blood.”

  “I don’t know that. I only have your word for it. There’s no point in discussing any of this any further. I want you to start packing immediately. Love!” Anne Powers snorted. “What do you know about love?”

  The screeching, shrieking whirlwind that flew through the room to tear at her mother showed no mercy as she beat at the woman with clenched fists. “I hate you. You’re a mean, nasty, terrible person, and I hate you. I’ll always hate you if you send Callie away. I want to go with Callie. I’ll tell Papá. Papá will let Callie stay.” Small feet kicked out at Anne Powers’s legs, forcing the woman to yelp in pain. Clenched fists and nails raked at her. Pushing and shoving, Mary forced the woman back against the wall with her extraordinary strength, strength Callie never would have believed the child possessed. She should do something, try to pull the shrieking child off her mother. Anger poured out of Callie. She was no longer in Anne Powers’s employ. She didn’t have to do a thing. Mary needed to do what she was doing, even though it wasn’t right. She made the instant decision not to interfere.

  Anne Powers was now shrieking as loud as her daughter as she tried to get away from her. Her efforts only incensed Mary all the more. “I saw you. I saw you kissing that doctor. I’m going to tell Papá when he comes home. I don’t care if Callie kissed Rossiter. I don’t care! If you can kiss Dr. Margolis, why can’t Callie kiss Rossiter?” Mary shrieked. “I’m going to tell. I’m going to tell everyone. I hate you. I never want to see you again.” Mary then turned her venom and frustration on Callie. “I hate you, too. You broke your promise to me.”

  Callie sat down on the bed and wept. There was nothing she could do. She had to make the effort for Mary. Wiping at her eyes with the sleeve of her dress, she got to her feet again and held out her arms to Mary. “Please, Mary, you don’t understand. Come here and let—”

  “No,” Mary shrieked. “You’ll just lie to me again. I don’t want to listen to you anymore. Get away from me. Don’t come near me.” Sobbing hysterically, Mary ran from the room. Out to the corridor and down the stairs to the kitchen. Without looking at a startled Lena, she banged through the screen door and raced past Hugh MacDuff. On and on she ran, down the slope of the backyard and up the steep incline to what was called the high bluff. Tripping and falling, she picked herself up only to fall again. Angry tears, hurtful tears, ran down her cheeks, making her gasp for breath. Unable to hear Hugh’s and Lena’s cries for her to come back, she ran on and on. Her only friend was leaving her. Her mother was sending Callie away. The doctor would tell everyone about her hearing, and then they’d send her away too. As she fought for breath, she wondered why her mother never mentioned her hearing to Callie. Because, she told herself, they were waiting for Callie to leave before they sent her away. Callie would have tried to stop them. No, she wouldn’t. Callie lied. Callie said everything was going to be all right.

  On and on the little girl ran, up and onward to the top of the bluff. With the tears burning her eyes, she paid no mind to what or where she was going. All she knew was that it was getting harder and harder to breathe, harder and harder to make her feet work. Lena’s shrill cries and Hugh MacDuff’s hoarse shouts went unheeded as the child finally fell in exhaustion against a gnarled oak tree. Her trembling feet poked at a pile of leaves, working them into a small mound. Satisfied with her temporary nest, she climbed into the leaves and cried.

  Her humiliation complete, Anne Powers struggled to her feet. Her gaze was stony and hateful as she watched Callie close the satchel with her belongings. Venom poured out of her eyes as the girl made her way to the door. She didn’t lo
ok back or acknowledge Anne Powers in any way. “You could have stopped her. You could have controlled the little monster. Why didn’t you?” God, Mary in her rage said she had seen her mother kissing Evan Margolis. She pooh-poohed the idea that either her daughter or Callie would tell her husband. And if they did, Jasper would never believe it. Mary was a hysterical, backward child. Callie was a slut. No one would believe either of them. “Well, answer me!” Anne Powers commanded in a strangled voice.

  Callie turned slowly to stare at the ravaged woman. “I’m no longer in your employ, Mrs. Powers.” Without another word Callie was through the door and in the hallway. Once she was clear of the room, she ran as fast as she could with her heavy satchel down the stairs and into the kitchen. It was empty. She had to find Mary. Explain to the child somehow that she wasn’t deserting her, that she hadn’t lied to her. Would she understand? She was such a child. A sweet, wonderful, lovable child. She owed the little girl so much. Without her, Callie’s first months in this country would have been unbearable. She had to find Mary. Mary must have run through the kitchen to go outdoors. Lena’s absence must mean that she and Hugh were chasing after her. Mary knew every inch of the Powers’s property, so she couldn’t get lost. But if the troubled child ran to the top of the bluff, she could have a serious accident.