Misty set the basket of clothes on the table, as John leaned over her. He looked like he wanted to ask if something was wrong, but Misty cast a look towards him, which he seemed to acknowledge as a sign to keep quiet.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mary. My name is Misty,” she said, holding out her hand. Her eyes willed Mary to keep her questions. She hoped, at least for the moment, Mary would feign ignorance in the knowledge of who Misty was.
Mary seemed to shut her mouth tight, taking her sister’s hand in a stiff grip. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I have heard so much about you,” she finally said. “You are apparently the best maid in the hotel. I hope to learn a lot from you.”
Misty saw Samantha reach for her arm. “Misty, how are you? You look very pale. Maybe you should sit down for a while.”
“It’s nothing, I am fine. Just a little bit heated from the washing. Now that I am inside, I’ll be better.”
Mr. Higgins smiled, not noticing anything amiss at all. “Well, why don’t you give her a tour of the hotel and then you can start by cleaning out some of the empty rooms.”
“Of course,” Mary said cheerfully. “Will you lead the way, Misty?”
Misty sucked in a huge breath, ignoring both Samantha’s and John’s looks. She motioned towards the door at the end of the kitchen and followed Mary out of the kitchen into the hallway leading towards the dining room. Mary started to walk faster than her, almost as if she was running through the dining room, into the lobby leading into the hallway. Before she could walk any further, Misty pulled Mary’s arm and tucked her into a hallway.
“What are you doing here, Mary? Why aren’t you in Georgia?”
“I can ask the same about you, Wilhelmina,” she answered back, her words seeped with hatred.
“Don’t call me that,” Misty spat, looking around for anyone who might have heard. “That isn’t my name here.”
“Why did you go, Misty? Why did you leave me?” Mary asked, ignoring her earlier statement. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s a long story…” Misty started to say. “I don’t understand why you aren’t at home with Mama.”
“Mama is dead,” she spat out.
“Oh no, she can’t be.”
“You wouldn’t know because you left me there, with her. You could have taken me with you!”
“You were so young. Where I was going, I couldn't take you because I couldn’t take care of you. The best place for you was to stay in that house.”
“With Mama. But she was never the same, without you. I needed you!”
Tears started to stream down Mary’s face. Misty tried to grab and console her, but Mary escaped from her grasp. “There are so many things you wouldn’t have understood, but I had every intention of coming back for you.”
“I waited for you! I always had hoped you would come back for me, and yet you never did.”
“I wish I could tell you why I had to leave that night…” she started, but even then, after all these years, Misty knew the wounds were too deep for her to exercise them in this immediate conversation.
“And yet you still can’t?” Misty yelled, before leaving the hallway and walking towards the hallway. “You don’t have to worry about your friends finding out about your past from me. I can tell from your face you don’t want them to know. But don’t act like you’re my sister now,” she yelled again before disappearing from sight. Misty fell to the floor, wondering what she had gotten herself into.
Chapter 5
John couldn’t get the image of Misty out of his mind, as he rode his horse home that night. She looked so lost. Her eyes appeared distressed, but he didn’t have time to pursue it. There was a disturbance at the bar and he had a few more calls to check out at the ranches around the outskirts of town. There were more fences broken and more cows missing. It was becoming a dire situation; if the town lost any more cattle, he didn’t know what was going to happen. They were all looking to him for guidance, and for once he didn't know where to begin. He decided he was going to sleep for the night in the sheriff’s office. It would be better for him to be as close to the city as possible. He would stop at his parents’ ranch to visit his sister before the end of his night, though.
Beatrice was his younger sister, by ten years. She was a bit sickly and couldn’t get around much. When John was younger, he had thought one day the ranch would be his to work on, but his dream died along with his father. His sister oversaw the farm operations and he had a few hired hands to take care of some of the small stuff. He would pop through as often he could, usually when Beatrice would start begging for a visit, otherwise, he tried to stay in town as best as he could. Occasionally he would send George up to the ranch just to check on her and help out and he would return with alarming messages from his sister to bring John back to the ranch as soon as possible.
He rode his horse out of the main pasture towards the house. Nothing had changed since his parents had lived there and he had hoped that it would stay that way. It was a shrine to their presence. Although he missed the place terribly, sometimes if he stayed too long he felt hopeless sadness wash over him. His parents were dead, and they were never going to come back, no matter how hard he went around chasing the ghosts of his past.
Beatrice was already at the porch, grinning from ear to ear as John dismounted from the horse. “Bea, you didn’t have to come all the way out here; I could have met you inside,” he said as he leaned over into her embrace. She was small and fragile looking; John could wrap his arms around her twice. They were always quite the opposite in looks and in statures, and many people in town had made jokes of them not being related. John had always laughed it off; even though they may not look alike, he knew based on personality that they were truly siblings.
When he backed away from her, she leaned against the post again for balance. “I haven’t been out of the house all day, it was nice to take a bit of a walk. The boys, they spoil me so much.” She held out her hand and John took it. “But it would be nice if my big brother were to walk me back inside.”
John gladly walked her back into the small front room of the house, which consisted of a few chairs and a heater in the corner of the room. It was built by their grandfather, as one of the first settlers in this part of the town. He barely remembered his grandfather, but he would always remember his stories as they were relayed to them both by their father. When he sat his sister down into one of the lone chairs, he looked around. “Where are Henry and Mathis?”
Beatrice motioned for him to sit next to her. “It was getting late and cold, so I thought it would be best if they went home for the night. Henry had told me his wife is almost ready to give birth.”
“I’ve seen her around town. She looks very ready to let go of the heavy load she is carrying,” John said with a wink. The hired hands tended to a bit of chores here and there, which earned them a bit of extra money and provided relief for Beatrice. The ranch wasn’t necessarily thriving, but it was enough to get his sister by. The men also offered her a bit of company for the times John couldn’t come around to pay her a visit. He had tried as best he could, but as the town started to grow in population and size, it was hard for him to find any time for himself.
“Tell me, what has stopped you from visiting me?”
John sighed, removing his hat, and laid it on the table between him. He relayed a few gossip items he had heard in the town, to generate a bit of small talk, before delving into the story of the cattle rustlers. “Because of this, I was thinking that maybe it would be good if you were to come into town. It isn’t really safe for you to be out here all by yourself.”
Beatrice remained silent for the moment, her face unemotional before her lips turned into a slight frown. “I don’t really want to leave my home. I like it out here.”
“But I don’t think it’s safe for you to be out here without anyone to watch you.”
She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her legs. She was wearing pants; she had stopped we
aring dresses long ago because they hindered her ability to really walk. “We don’t have any cattle. And I’m not really alone. Henry and Mathis are out here for most of the day. And I do know how to shoot a gun, if necessary,” she said, with a wink.
John still wasn’t convinced. “It would make me feel better if you were in town, just so I could keep an eye on you.”
“John, you worry too much about me. I’ll be fine. What you should really be working on is trying to find out who is behind all this cattle ‘napping.”
That was easier said than done. “I don’t know what to do, to be honest.”
Beatrice held her head in her hands, looking up to the ceiling thoughtfully. “Oh, I know! Maybe you can set a trap.”
John raised an eyebrow. “A trap?”
“Yes! And I could help you.”
“Beatrice…” John started to say.
“Don’t be ridiculous! I would love to help you,” Beatrice said, as she started to ramble.
John sat back, listening to his sister, he thought he didn’t have the heart to tell her no. He hadn’t seen her so energized in ages, so he decided he would let her have this; he had no other ideas. What harm could it do?
That’s the third time she had seen Clover talk to Mary in the past few hours, Misty thought to herself, as she watched her sister from across the kitchen. The two were in front of the stoves, with Clover stirring a big pot and Mary gazing wistfully behind it. Mr. Higgins was out for a few hours picking up some supplies, so Clover, Mary, and Misty were in the kitchen preparing for the afternoon supper. It had been a few days since Misty had her confrontation and Mary was doing everything to avoid her sister. Misty had tried to find ways to get Mary alone, so they could have a frank discussion, but Mary had evaded her at every turn.
She had only been in the hotel for a few days, and Clover had already gone out of her way to try to make conversation with the young girl. Misty knew this meant nothing good.
“Misty, what are you doing?” asked Emma, as she came into the kitchen to grab some extra dishes to set the tables in the dining area. Misty looked down at the cutting board. She was so upset, she wasn’t paying attention to the tomatoes she was cutting for the salad. Instead of little squares, the tomatoes resembled watery mush.
She scraped the mess into a pile and pulled another tomato. “Sorry, I was just distracted,” she said under her breath. Emma gave her a curious look before she gathered the necessary dishes and slipped out of the room. When Emma left, Misty set down her knife and marched over to where Clover and Misty were giggling in the corner. “Mary, I need to show you where the spices are,” she said, as she went to grasp Mary’s hand.
Clover interjected, yanking Mary from Misty’s grasp. “She knows where the spices are. They are right here,” she said, pointing to the shelves above their head. Misty groaned. She wasn’t too savvy when it came to fibbing with an audience. “Don’t you have to finish cutting those?” Clover added, looking beyond her to the three tomatoes that still lay on the counter. Both girls went back to the pots, carrying on a conversation that Misty was too upset to pay attention to.
Misty felt herself fuming. She stopped to think, trying to find a way to get either Mary away from Clover, or Clover to leave the room. Then a thought crossed her mind. She paused her cutting and listened carefully. “Did you hear that? I think Emma dropped a glass.”
Both women stopped. Clover strained to hear a sound. “I didn’t hear anything.”
“You didn’t? I could have distinctly heard glass break.”
Clover sighed. “That girl is so clumsy; I should go see.” She turned back to Mary. “Make sure you stir that pot. I’ll be right back.”
When Clover was gone, Misty turned to her sister. “You shouldn’t talk to her. She is going to give you nothing but trouble.” Mary seemed to ignore her sister, facing the pot and stirring it with the wooden spoon Clover had left. Misty came up closer, leveling herself to stand next to her. “Mary, I’m only looking out for you. If you would just let me help you.”
“I don’t have to listen to you. You are not my mother.”
Misty rolled her eyes. “Yes, but I’ve been here for longer than you have. I know exactly what she is looking for. You shouldn’t get involved.”
Mary threw the wooden spoon back onto the counter next to the pots. “And what if I want to get involved? It’s none of your concern.”
“Mary, stop being childish.”
“I don’t need your help, Misty. I was doing well on my own for a while, and I’ll do well on my own even without you looking out for me.”
“Misty, you must get your hearing checked,” Clover interrupted, returning to the kitchen. “Everything seems to be fine out there. Now, Mary, did you stir the pot?” she continued, pushing Misty to the side. The way the two girls looked at each other, smiling and laughing, Misty couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. It was bad enough that she had to leave so suddenly; and now she had to witness her sister show affection to someone who wasn’t her.
Chapter 6
Misty – Sixteen
Misty couldn’t hide her nervousness as she sat up on top of the hill, waiting. It had been almost a year since they last saw each other and even though they had shared countless letters between each other all year, nothing compared to the idea of being in his physical presence. She missed being able to touch his face, hold his hand, press her lips to his. It was as much thrilling as it was terrifying.
It was hard to sneak out of the house, but she had managed to go undetected. That night was a Mr. Carson night, so she had faked an illness to retire to bed early. Her mother hadn’t been suspicious and looked almost relieved to dismiss her daughter to bed. When Misty passed Mary, though, she did feel a tinge of guilt. The little girl looked up at her with terrified eyes, pleading with her soundlessly to stay at the dinner. But Misty was resolved; it was only for one night. Mary could handle one dinner. And Mr. Carson wouldn’t dare do anything while her mother was sitting there; she wouldn’t allow it.
She looked down the hill, the sun setting in the distance, anticipation buzzing around her. When arms reached around her, she felt herself jump. Then familiar lips kissed the tips of her ears and she felt herself inwardly relax. She turned around to see Randy. He was even more handsome than she remembered. The year had been good to him. His shoulders broadened, and he was a foot taller. His hair was a little longer, although it still curled over his forehead. She leaped from her sitting position into his arms.
He laughed as he caught her, before bringing her up into a kiss. Misty could feel small flutters in her stomach; butterflies, as Randy had described them the first time she had mentioned them. He grasped at her back as he deepened the kiss. She had never done these things with any other boy before; their last summer was full of firsts for her. The first time she had been alone with a boy, the first time she held a boy’s hand, the first time she ever kissed a boy. She couldn’t imagine a life without his kisses. She had waited so long to see him again that she didn’t want to break away from him. But when she felt breathless and lightheaded, she slowly pushed him back, so they could catch their breath.
She stared into his eyes and whispered, “I missed you.”
He smiled, tucking back the strands of hairs that had escaped her hairdo. “I know, my love. Words cannot describe how badly I missed you too.”
While they had never admitted their love for each other, she knew deep in her heart that she loved him and knew that he had loved her. She couldn’t imagine a future without him by her side. She leaned in and kissed him again.
They held each other for what seemed like hours, only kissing and watching the sunset. It was as if time had stopped and Misty could forget that she was the daughter of a whore and that he was the son of a rich businessman. They could just be two young people, just in love. She turned to look into Randy’s eyes. The secret of her mother crawled within her, wanting to break out.
She knew she had to tell him, but she did
n’t want his adoring looks to ever change. What if this secret would change the way he saw her? It changed the way everyone else had treated her. And she knew she couldn’t bear to lose him. He had become the beacon of hope through her dull life. When everyone else had abandoned her, he was there for her.
She had never realized how lonely she was until she had someone to pass the time with.
They sat there for a few more minutes until the night overshadowed them. Randy had wanted to walk Misty home, but she refused. He must never know where she lived, lest he knew of her house and make the correlation between the two. They vowed to see each other the next time, and when she kissed him it wasn’t like an end, it felt like a beginning.
Alone in her room, Misty flipped through the book she was reading. She couldn’t concentrate on the words, only thinking about her sister. How was she ever going to fix their relationship? She knew if she could talk to her, she could make her understand about the choices she had to make.
With her head swimming with thoughts, she decided that maybe it was time to call it a night; as she slipped into her nightgown, she heard a crash in the room next to her, followed by a loud scream. The maid quarters were at the side of the hotel, away from the patrons and Mr. Higgins, whose room was near the primary office, so she knew the noise was coming from one of the fellow maids. It sounded like it was coming from next door, which was Clover’s. When there was another crash, she got up from bed and went into the hallway. The door to Clover’s room happened to be open. She glanced inside and noticed Mary was in the room, her face red with tears dripping down her rosy cheeks.
“You lied to me! You only said I had to pay him attention. You never explained any other behavior. I don’t want to do that!” Mary shrieked, between tears.
Clover looked furious. “How naive are you? What did you believe I was talking about when I had asked you to keep that man company?” She went over and grabbed Mary’s arm, pulling her close in a tight grasp. “He paid a lot of money for you.”
Her Secret Shame (Black Hills Brides Book 3) Page 4
