“Someone should have beat Mrs. Campbell!” Daniel exclaimed, hurting for the little girl who had been put in a position that must have terrified her. “Did she hit you, too?”
“No. I thought she would,” Nina whispered against his neck. “She didn’t hit me. She grabbed my arm and dragged me to her office and threw me into a chair.” Her words came out on a sob and Daniel held her closer, wishing he’d known this yesterday.
“She shouldn’t have been allowed to work with children.”
“Not children like us. She could be good with some of them. Especially the smaller ones.”
“What do you mean, ‘children like us?’”
“After I was sitting down she stood over me. Her voice got really quiet but I could tell she was furious with me. She told me that if I ever interfered with her when she was disciplining another child she would beat me to within an inch of my life.
“She also told me that I needed to count my blessings that I had a roof over my head and food in my belly because no one would ever want me.”
“She what?” Daniel exploded, angrier than he ever remembered being in his life. “What would possess someone to tell a child a lie like that?”
“Because-” He felt her swallow hard. “Because my mother wasn’t married when I was born.”
Daniel grasped her shoulders and held her away from him.
“Look at me, Nina.” When she didn’t, he put a hand under her chin and raised her face to his. “Nina.”
“She was right,” Nina sobbed, averting her eyes. “You don’t want me now that you know.”
“I’ll always want you!” He told her angrily. But he was angry at Mrs. Campbell, not Nina, and he had to work hard to gentle his voice. “She was wrong, Nina. You aren’t responsible for the circumstances that led to your birth. She doesn’t even know if your mother was responsible. She had no right to tell you a lie like that.”
“You – don’t hate me?” she asked incredulously.
“I love you, Nina. I don’t care if your parents weren’t married. I don’t care what that woman said. I love you and I want to marry you.”
Nina did look at him then, her eyes wide and hopeful, and filled with tears that he never wanted to see again.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized, drawing her close. “I was going to bring you flowers, get down on one knee and propose the way you deserve. I didn’t mean to just blurt it out like that.”
“You want to marry me?” she murmured.
“I do. If you’ll have me.”
“Of course I’ll have you,” Nina exclaimed, crying harder now. “I love you!”
~~~
“I think he did it on purpose,” Marcus said quietly, sitting at the kitchen table, hunched over a cup of coffee. Apparently he was still distressed over what had happened at the businessmen’s meeting a few hours before. He looked at Colby and scowled.
“Why would you think that Elliot would sit at your table on purpose?” Colby asked, struggling not to smile. “Do you think he did it just to bother you?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. There were other seats available. But he had to sit with me. And he kept smiling at me.”
This time Colby couldn’t help himself and chuckled. At Marcus’ look of dismay, he reached out and patted his arm.
“There’s no crime in smiling,” he pointed out with good humor. “In fact, I much prefer it when people smile at me as opposed to scowling.”
“He talked to me, Colby. Elliot Owens never talks to me.” Marcus was making it sound as though Elliot had, indeed, committed some sort of crime.
“Perhaps he just wants to get to know you better.”
“Why?”
“A person can never have too many friends, Marcus,” was all he could think to say, sipping his own cup of coffee. In truth he suspected that Elliot wasn’t trying to make friends. Not exactly at any rate. Elliot tended toward a wicked sense of humor and had probably delighted in throwing Marcus off balance. Not that Elliot Owens had a mean bone in his body. Just a mischievous one. Likely several of them.
“I have enough friends,” Marcus protested with a frown.
“You have me and Derek. And Derek lives in Philadelphia. It wouldn’t hurt for you to make a few more here in Charlotte.”
“No.” He shook his head. “No, I don’t need anymore.”
“Don’t need any more what?” Anna demanded, waltzing into the kitchen. Colby was torn between disappointment and amusement. Disappointment because she’d spoiled a perfectly comfortable conversation with his friend, and amusement because Marcus not only disliked his wife, but was also quite afraid of her, too.
A fact that Anna, whose every bone was mean, was well aware of. Colby hated that she took unfair advantage of that fear. At the moment she was walking over to the window near Marcus, passing as close as she dared to him. Marcus shrank back into his chair.
“Nothing,” he mumbled.
“You don’t need any more ‘nothing?’” Anna asked scornfully, glancing over her shoulder at Colby. “Keeping secrets?”
“I do have an obligation to keep the confidences of my parishioners,” he told her with a tight smile.
“So you do have secrets, Marcus,” she laughed, leaning down into his face. Colby could have sworn that he saw every drop of blood leave the poor man’s face.
“I- No- No secrets, Ma’am,” Marcus stammered, leaning back so far this time Colby feared the chair would tumble right on to its back, taking him along with it.
“You know that lying is a sin?” she pointed out, what passed for a smile curving her lips.
“I- I’m not lying. We were just talking.”
“I suppose you were talking about me.”
“No, Ma’am! We were not!” Now the flush that stained his cheeks spoke of more guilt than innocence, even though he was telling the gospel truth.
“I don’t think I believe you, Marcus McClelland.”
“We weren’t talking about you, Anna,” Colby said, feeling compelled to come to Marcus’ defense when he observed beads of sweat forming on his friend’s upper lip. “I am not at liberty to divulge the topic of our conversation but, I assure you, it didn’t concern you in the least.”
“Fine. If you say so.” Anna turned and walked across the room and, while Marcus sagged in relief, reached up into the cupboard. Being such a large woman, she had to hoist her ample stomach up and over the counter in order to retrieve a tin of cookies.
That done, she leaned back against the counter, opened the tin and began to eat an oatmeal cookie. All the while staring at Marcus, who squirmed under her relentless gaze.
“Would you care for a cookie, Marcus?” she offered sweetly.
“No. No thank you, Ma’am.”
“Colby?”
“No. But thank you for asking.”
“So. How is the funeral business going, Marcus?”
“Fine. It’s – fine.”
“Fine? I heard that Mrs. Simms passed away Tuesday. That’s fine?” Marcus’ eyes grew to about the size of saucers and he shook his head violently.
“No. No it’s not.”
“So what, exactly, is fine about the funeral business?”
“There is nothing fine about it, Ma’am.”
“But you said it was fine.”
“That’s not what I meant, Mrs. Thornton. Not what I meant at all,” Marcus assured her adamantly.
“Then what did you mean, Marcus?”
“I don’t really know,” he sighed. Colby figured he would bolt from the house in about two seconds if he didn’t do something quickly.
“Did you have a nice visit with Edna McAllister this morning, dear?” he inquired, asking the first thing that popped into his head.
“It was fine,” she answered, wandering back to stand beside Marcus again. He flinched as though she’d struck him. “Are you sure you won’t have a cookie?”
“I’m sure,” he assured her.
“So you’re saying you’re fine then?”
He tucked his chin to his chest.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Yes, Ma’am what?” Anna persisted.
“Yes, Ma’am, I’m – fine.”
“That’s a matter of opinion,” his wife muttered, turning to walk out of the kitchen, taking the tin with her. “Would you like to stay for supper, Marcus?” she invited on her way to the parlor.
“No!” Marcus exclaimed, then swallowed hard before adding. “No thank you.”
Colby shook his head, wishing that just once Marcus would stand up to Anna. She liked to bully people if she could get away with it, but ignored anyone that had even a little bit of backbone. If Marcus had simply told her it was none of her business when she asked the first question, she’d have gone away. Gone away sputtering and complaining, but gone nonetheless.
“Would you like some more coffee?” he asked after a few silent minutes.
“I should be heading on home,” Marcus said, sounding tired. Colby suspected that his encounter with Anna had exhausted him.
“Next time how about I visit you?”
“That would be fine with me. I mean I’d like that,” Marcus said with obvious relief.
~~~
Bookwork had never been something Elliot enjoyed but, every Monday morning like clockwork he forced himself to fill out his ledger, using the sales receipts from the previous week. When he finally got to the stack from Saturday, he shook his head and chuckled. Marcus McClelland was, without a doubt, a curious man.
Even now he wasn’t certain what made him decide to sit at that particular table, not when there were a good half dozen other vacant ones to choose from. Not to mention the partially filled tables where he might have enjoyed some good conversation.
Instead he felt compelled to sit with Marcus. Perhaps because he looked lonely. More likely, though, because the man amused him.
In the nearly fifteen years since he and Margaret had moved to Charlotte, that young man had been painfully shy. Even as a young schoolboy, he couldn’t recall seeing him around town with friends. And given the solitary life he seemed to lead, Elliot suspected he didn’t have any. Then or now.
The bell over the door rang, interrupting his thoughts. When he looked up, his lips curved in a delighted smile and he walked quickly to meet his wife and youngest son.
“What brings you out this morning?” he asked, leaning down to kiss her quickly.
“I – need to talk to you,” she murmured, not quite meeting his eyes. “Do you have a few moments?”
“Yes, of course. What is it, Meg?”
“Charles, why don’t you go get the pail of blocks under the counter and play while I talk to your papa.” Charles wasted no time in doing exactly that, and then Meg took his hand and said, “Can we step into the storeroom?”
Elliot felt his stomach knot up and wasn’t sure he wanted to hear whatever it was she had to say. The faces of everyone back home, parents, brothers and sisters, nieces, nephews and cousins played in his mind like a picture show at the Nickelodeon, and he prayed that nothing had happened to any of them.
“We should have waited to have the family portrait taken until spring,” were the first words Meg spoke when they were alone though. Having expected the worst news anyone could ever hope to hear, he was momentarily confused at what he was hearing.
“What?”
“We should have waited,” she repeated, the beginnings of a smile on her face.
“And why is that?”
“Because it would be nice if the baby were old enough so he or she could actually look at the photographer when we have the next one taken.”
“Baby?” Elliot mouthed, his breath catching in his throat? “We’re having another baby?” Meg beamed at him as she nodded her head yes. Elliot let out a whoop and gathered her close, whirling her around the storeroom. When he stopped, he cupped her face and kissed her slowly before asking, “When?”
“Dr. Garlington said he thinks it will be around Thanksgiving.”
“A baby in time for Christmas? You couldn’t give me a gift I’ll cherish more.”
Chapter 8
Colby cast his line out about mid-stream and sat contentedly on the bank of the Battle Creek River. Well, ‘river’ might have been a grander description than the narrow body of water deserved, but he was still fully prepared to spend the afternoon engaged in one of his favorite pastimes.
Even though Anna wouldn’t allow so much as one fish in the house, he reveled in the thrill of the catch. And he never had a problem finding someone to take it, large or small, off his hands. If he managed to catch anything. The ‘river’ was running fast today due, he was sure, to the recent heavy rains.
Nevertheless it was a beautiful day and he intended to enjoy it. Life didn’t get much better than this, sitting in the park with his fishing pole, listening to the laughter of children as they ran and played, a soft breeze caressing his face, and weather that was fully agreeable. Not too hot, and not a hint of chill in the early June air.
Sitting back against the trunk of a tree, he mulled over his lack of inspiration for tomorrow’s sermon. Perhaps it was the fact that summer had descended upon them so abruptly, or maybe it was just an off week, as happened every now and again, but he was having little success in coming up with an appropriate subject. Or any subject at all, for that matter. So Colby Thornton decided he simply wasn’t going to think about anything at all for a while.
He raised a knee and rested his pole against it. So far not so much as a nibble, but that really wasn’t the point of fishing anyway. No, it was nothing more than the best way to relax, and he did just that, closing his eyes. Not to sleep, for he wasn’t tired in the least. Just to listen. He sighed contentedly as he listened to the children, the birds chirping, the weeds along the creek bank rustling gently in the breeze.
The hooves of horses clopping by, a wagon wheel in dire need of some axle grease squealing as it rolled along, and the occasional automobile speeding along Main Street. Not nearly as many on the road today as usual but then, in the name of patriotism, Charlotte’s citizens were conscientious of conserving fuel for the war effort. In the distance the Methodist church bell chimed eleven times.
Another sigh escaped him. Yes, indeed, this was the life. A pleasant morning doing one of the things he loved above all else, in relative peace and solitude. Nothing to do but think, or not think, whichever he chose to do.
“Hey, Reverend Thornton!” So much for peace and quiet, Colby thought wryly, opening an eye as Jonathon Owens plopped down beside him on the bank. “Catch anything yet?”
“Not yet, but I’m hopeful,” Colby said kindly, fixing his attention on the boy. Jonathon was one of his favorite people, always full of exciting tales and exploits, real or imagined. And this boy had more imagination than ten average young men.
“Me, too,” Jonathon said, nodding at his pole and can of worms. “Told Mother I’d catch us a mess of fish for supper tonight.”
“That’s good of you. I’m sure she appreciates it.”
“Well, she said she wasn’t going to hold her breath, but I was welcome to try. I don’t know why she’d want to hold her breath though. She’d faint dead away before I brought them home. Unless she meant after I bring them home. Cause some fish smell, you know.” Colby smothered a chuckle with a cough.
“Well, let’s see if I can help you out here. Mrs. Thornton can’t abide fish at all so I was planning to give away anything I catch anyway. You’re more than welcome to them.”
“Say, that’d be swell, Reverend! I’d be happy to take them home. I don’t know that I’d have been able to sit here long enough to catch enough to feed everyone. Thanks!”
“You’re welcome, Jonathon,” Colby said with a grin. If Jonathon Owens could sit still long enough to catch even one fish, he’d be surprised. “But shall we wait and see if I catch anything before you thank me?”
“Yeah. I guess that’d be a good idea.” He swung his arm back unnecessarily far to cast his line, which, li
ke its owner, landed with a soft plop quite near Colby’s. They sat in companionable silence for a while. While he’d been sitting there alone, the silence had been welcome but was now too quiet to suit him.
“So tell me, Jonathon, what have you been up to lately?”
“Hmm. Well. I did beat Tommy Peters in trench warfare after school yesterday. Whipped him good! And let’s see.” Perhaps if Colby concentrated as hard as his young fishing companion appeared to be doing, he just might come up with his sermon. “Oh! Reverend Thornton, you’re never gonna believe this!” His eyes shone with excitement.
“Then tell me quick,” Colby encouraged, his smile stretching from ear to ear.
“It’s Mr. Mertz. Pop says I still gotta get more evidence on him and all but this really should be enough.”
“Enough?”
“Mmm-hmm.” He was nodding his head vigorously. “It sure should. He got another package delivered today. A big one. A real big one! I think it’s a cannon.”
“A cannon!” Colby choked in surprise. “Just how big was this package, young man?”
“’bout this big.” Jonathon rested his pole on his knee and placed his hands about three feet from the ground. “Really big. I’m not joshing, Reverend Thornton.”
“I don’t believe you are. But- A cannon? My goodness. How many postal employees had to deliver it?”
“Oh, just Mr. Cavendish. But he’s pretty strong, you know.”
“I guess he is.” Not able to resist, Colby reached out to squeeze the would-be hero’s shoulder. “You know, with a young man such as yourself looking out for our safety, Charlotte is in good hands.”
“Yeah,” Jonathon grumbled, picking up his rod, a look of disgust on his face. “If Pop would let me write the president again about all the things I seen Mr. Mertz do, why I bet they’d send General Pershing himself to arrest him!”
“But Elliot wants you to wait.”
“Mmm-hmm. Hey! Revered Thornton, you got one!”
Sure enough, Colby caught his first fish of the day. If only the boy could catch his first spy so easily.
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