Courting Miss Adelaide

by Janet Dean

  Nestled in the comfort of Charles’s arms, Adelaide let her song trail off to a soft hum, and then looked at Charles. A sense of oneness passed between them. Charles cared for Emma, cared about her, too, or he wouldn’t be here this evening.

  Filled with contentment, she gently laid the sleeping child on the bed. Pulling up the covers, she kissed Emma’s soft cheek. Then she and Charles slipped out of the room.

  I can picture us doing that with our own children.

  Suddenly, aware he stood behind her, his breath warm against her neck, she turned toward him.

  He raised a hand to cradle her chin. The waiting was unbearable, though surely only a few seconds passed while she wondered would he?

  And then he lowered his mouth to hers, the feel of his lips gentle and sweet. Her breath caught and she swayed toward him, clinging to his lapels for support. She was taking a huge risk, but her heart refused to listen. His kiss dismissed every coherent thought in her muddled brain. Her eyelids drifted shut, her heart insisting she belonged here.

  He pulled away and lifted his palm to her face.

  “You pretended to want a meal, but I suspect you came because you were worried. Thank you for watching Emma and me.”

  “Don’t forget to lock up,” he said, tucking an arm around her.

  They walked downstairs together. At the door he gave her a hug, then slipped out. Leaning against the frame, Adelaide closed her eyes, remembering his scent, the roughness of his jaw under her palm, the timbre of his voice.

  Her pulse skipped a beat.

  Was it possible? Did Charles love her?

  Or was he just as scared as she was by what had happened?

  Adelaide woke with a start. Something, some noise had awakened her. Slipping from her bed, she tiptoed to the window and pulled back the curtain. The street was empty. In the moonlight, everything looked peaceful, but a nudge of disquiet sent her to her bedroom door.

  She turned the knob, opened it a crack and listened. She didn’t hear anything, but she slipped out the door, and padded down the hall. Snuggled under the covers, Emma slept peacefully.

  Tension fell from her shoulders as Adelaide headed back to bed. Whatever she’d heard—a tree branch in a strong gust of wind, perhaps—everything looked in order. She drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The next morning, Adelaide came down the stairs with Emma on her heels, complaining about school.

  “You have to go, Emma.” Adelaide said automatically. “Did you remember your lunch bucket?”

  Emma liked recess and her teacher, but she hadn’t yet caught up with her work. Maybe if she—

  The thought stuttered to a halt, and so did Adelaide. Emma collided into her back.

  “Emma, go back upstairs.”

  “But—”

  “Do as I say.”

  After making sure Emma obeyed, Adelaide crept down the remainder of the stairway. Seeing no one, she exhaled the breath she’d been holding. Pulse hammering, her gaze darted about the showroom.

  Unwound from bolts, pastel ribbons dangled from mirrors and cabinets. Smashed silk flowers and papier-mâché fruit were hurled around the shop. On the floor, fabric lay in twisted heaps. Hats, with crushed crowns and bent brims, settled where they’d been flung.

  She moved from behind the counter and stumbled through the debris, picking up a hat. “Oh, no.” The crown had been slit.

  The culprit had dumped her desk drawer, along with the bigger drawers holding supplies, but strangely had not tinkered with the cash register. She picked her way to the front of the shop, noting a shattered pane and jagged pieces of glass scattered on the floor. Someone had reached through the opening and unlocked the door. Without thinking, Adelaide turned the lock, though the broken pane made the gesture meaningless.

  The noise she’d heard last night must have been breaking glass or perhaps the bell. No, the bell had been torn from its moorings.

  A thought slammed into her. A thought so unwelcome she shook her head, trying to shake it loose, but it stuck tighter than flypaper to a shoe.

  Only one person could have done this. Ed Drummond.

  If I’d come down to investigate, what would have happened then?

  He could easily have come up to her living quarters, could have plucked Emma from her bed.

  Perspiration broke out on her forehead. Nausea washed over her. She lunged for the back door and deposited her breakfast in the flowerbed, then leaned against the brick, wiping a shaky hand over her mouth.

  When her heartbeat slowed, she trudged to the well and primed it, then pumped the handle until water splattered at her feet. She filled her cupped hands with water and rinsed her mouth and face, removing every sign of her weakness.

  Dropping to her knees, she turned to the One who controlled the universe. “Thank you, Father, for your protection. Please, let no harm come to Frances, Emma and William. Give me wisdom, Lord, and courage.”

  Feeling stronger, she rose and dashed inside. She found Emma sitting on her bed, her face pale. “What’s wrong, Miss Adelaide?”

  “Someone broke the glass in the door last night. Probably boys looking for excitement, but at first it worried me. I’ll get it fixed.” She patted Emma’s knee. “Better hurry or you’ll be late.”

  Avoiding the usual way out, Adelaide led Emma through the kitchen and onto the open-air landing at the top of the back stairs. By keeping up a rush of conversation all the way to school, she avoided any questions from Emma. Before school let out for the day, she’d have order restored.

  After settling Emma in her classroom, Adelaide took the teacher aside. Though she doubted Ed would grab Emma in broad daylight in a schoolyard full of children, she asked the teacher to keep a close eye on Emma during recess.

  The terror she’d experienced earlier turned to anger. The worst kind of coward, Ed Drummond preyed on women and children. How could Frances stay with him? After the sheriff’s visit yesterday, hadn’t she suspected Ed of killing her mother?

  Adelaide’s steps slowed. She hadn’t walked in Frances’s shoes, hadn’t known the fear that could control and subdue the spirit. Like Charles’s mother, Frances had few options. She must be terrified for her own life or for the lives of the children.

  Down the way, Charles crossed the street, his stride purposeful. On the boardwalk in front of her shop, he stopped.

  “What’s this?” He pivoted toward her. “Addie, what happened? How did this pane of glass get broken?”

  Adelaide pulled the key out of her purse and unlocked the door. “Ed Drummond broke in last night.”

  “Ed Drummond was here, in your shop?” He followed her inside. “It looks like a cyclone struck. Are you and Emma all right?”

  Before she could answer, he pulled her into his arms. The magnitude of what had happened struck full force and she laid her cheek against the rough fabric of his coat.

  “He didn’t come upstairs?”

  Charles believed Ed Drummond had done this.

  “No.” Relieved to have him here, to share the burden hanging heavy on her, tension eased from her body. “Last night a noise awakened me, but when I checked around upstairs, nothing looked amiss. I didn’t come down here.”

  “Thank God.” He picked up one of the damaged hats, poking a finger through the slit in the crown. “This is a warning, Addie.” He dropped the hat onto a chair and laid his hands on her shoulders. “The sheriff needs to see this. Will you be okay while I’m gone?”

  “Ed Drummond wouldn’t bother me in broad daylight. Cowards prefer the dark.”

  “If he feels cornered, he might do anything. Now stay put until I get back.” He gave a lopsided grin. “No cleaning until after the sheriff has investigated.”

  He’d tried to lighten the mood by teasing her. Adelaide forced the corners of her mouth up. “You’d better hurry, then. I won’t be able to resist the urge for long.”

  Sheriff Rogers poked around and admitted he couldn’t find any evidence of who had vanda
lized the shop, so she and Charles went after the mess like pigs after slop. Well, at least Adelaide tackled the task in an orderly fashion while Charles roamed about the showroom, accomplishing little.

  “Addie, is this something worth keeping?”

  Adelaide left the pile of bric-a-brac she sorted to look at Charles’s latest treasure. He held two pieces of a papier-mâché apple in an open palm, a question in his eyes.

  “No, it’s damaged beyond repair.”

  “This apple doesn’t tempt you? With a dab of glue—”

  She smiled. “No amount of glue will fix that apple.”

  He tossed it away. “If only Eve had had your strength.”

  Adelaide giggled. With Charles here, she didn’t get much done, but still, she treasured his presence.

  A few minutes later, a tickle along her jaw sent a shiver spiraling down her spine. Charles stood over where she sat, sporting a lazy grin and trailing the tip of a feather down her neck. “Maybe if you pressed them in a book?” Charles held out a handful of colorful feathers.

  “Their spines are broken. Please, put them in the trash.”

  “I wouldn’t want to toss anything important. I don’t see anything wrong with this.” He grabbed a long-stemmed silk rose from the pile and held it in his strong white teeth.

  Adelaide gave him a playful nudge. “You’re hopeless.”

  Removing the bloom, he hauled her to her feet and slipped it into her chignon. “It looks better here.”

  Cradling her face in his hands, he brushed his lips across one cheek, then to her mouth with a tender and gentle kiss. He tugged her close, pulling her against his chest. “I worry about you.”

  “I’ll be fine.” She prayed God would protect them all.

  She glanced at the clock. If she had to keep supervising Charles, she’d never get order restored. “What I really need is to have the glass replaced. Could you do that?”

  “Are you sure you don’t need me here?”

  No matter what he’d said, he looked desperate to leave. “I’ll try to manage without you.”

  He flashed a grin. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  Charles strode for the door and on the threshold met Sheriff Rogers, holding Jacob Paul by the shirt.

  “I’m taking Jacob in for questioning,” Sheriff Rogers said. “Want to talk to him about a nasty cut on his hand.”

  Air left Adelaide’s lungs. Jacob hated her so much for reporting his arson that he’d destroy her shop?

  Jacob’s dark eyes sparked with defiance. “I didn’t do anything. I cut my hand whittling.”

  Sheriff Rogers ignored the boy’s claim and met Adelaide’s gaze. “His father is meeting us at the jail. I’d suggest you come, too, Miss Crum.”

  Later, inside the jail, the sheriff released Jacob. The boy crossed the room, wearing a scowl on his face, and slumped down in a chair, ignoring his father pacing near the door.

  Mr. Paul pointed his finger at Adelaide. “You’ve accused my son to get even with me.”

  The sheriff cocked his head. “Why would Miss Crum want to get even with you, Thaddeus?”

  “For turning down her request for an orphan, that’s why.”

  Adelaide planted her hands on her hips. “That’s absurd.”

  Sheriff Rogers held up a palm. “Miss Crum didn’t accuse your son. I thought of Jacob first thing. You have to admit, Thaddeus, the boy’s been in trouble more than out.”

  Mr. Paul’s shoulders stiffened. “That doesn’t mean he’s done this.”

  “No,” Sheriff Rogers said, “but that ugly cut on his right hand puts him under suspicion.”

  Jacob shifted in his seat. “I told you, I cut my hand whittling.”

  The sheriff’s eyes narrowed. “Are you left-handed, boy?”

  “I’m right-handed but the knife slipped.” He smirked. “I never said I was good at it.”

  Adelaide folded her arms across her middle. “So show us what you’re working on.”

  Jacob gave a cocky grin. “After I cut my hand, I hurled the piece of wood in the river. There’s nothing to find.”

  The sheriff’s mouth tightened. “Thaddeus, can you vouch for your son’s whereabouts last night between midnight and dawn?”

  “He was home sleeping.”

  Adelaide felt like shaking that smirk off Jacob’s face. The boy had no respect for authority.

  “Did you sit in his room all night?” the sheriff asked.

  “Of course not! This is an outrage. You have no proof my son vandalized that shop.”

  “Not yet, but that cut puts him under suspicion.”

  “He explained that.” Mr. Paul gestured toward his son. “I’m taking him home.”

  The sheriff stood over Jacob. “You’re free to go, but I’ll be watching you.”

  Father and son headed for the door. As Jacob sauntered past, he brushed against Adelaide’s skirts, probably trying to frighten her. Well, he did. After the fire-setting episode, she’d prayed for him. It appeared she had a lot more praying to do. She’d thought Ed Drummond had broken into her shop, but now Jacob appeared to be the most likely culprit.

  The heavy door rattled shut. Adelaide met Sheriff Rogers’s gaze. “How could you let him go? Surely you don’t believe that whittling story.”

  “I have no proof. I can’t arrest him on a hunch or for a bad attitude. I didn’t find red paint at the Paul house, but I did find an opened can of red paint in the alley behind the general store.” He sighed. “Anyone could have painted that threat or ransacked your shop, Miss Crum. Anyone.”

  Charles closed his toolbox. He’d replaced the pane in the door. Not that new glass would stop anyone from entering Addie’s shop. That insight sank like a stone in his stomach.

  Addie came up beside him. “Thank you.”

  His gaze scanned her face, noting the furrow in her usually smooth brow. What he needed to say would only add to her dismay. “You know, I’ve been thinking. Printing another article on suffrage is apt to stir up more trouble.”

  Her gaze, sharp as a well-honed blade, probed into him. “I can’t believe my political opinions are behind the vandalism or the threat.”

  “Until we know what’s going on, it might be a good idea to keep your name out of the news.”

  Her hand motioned around the room. “Jacob is a troubled kid. He vandalized my shop to get even. Or…” Her mouth went dry. “Ed Drummond wants to scare me so that I’ll stop investigating his treatment of William. It’s ludicrous to think some ordinary citizen could be irate enough to do this.”

  “Don’t be so sure. Suffrage is a hot issue. You’re asking for trouble by—”

  “I’m asking for nothing, Charles. Except the right to express my opinion so that women like Frances and your mother and, yes, even me, can have some control over their lives.”

  “I’m not opposed to your position on suffrage. Can’t you understand? I’m concerned about your safety.”

  “You agreed to print my views. Are you breaking your word?”

  Why must she make this about them? Didn’t she see the danger? He grabbed the toolbox, his jaw as tight as a vise because this stubborn, opinionated woman wouldn’t listen to reason.

  “Have it your way, Addie,” he said, opening the shop door. “You won’t listen to me.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Adelaide gathered another armload of her ruined stock and dumped it into the garbage can, relieved she only had a few more piles to clean up.

  The bell jingled, thanks to Charles who had reattached it to the door.

  Laura peeked in, carrying a napkin-covered plate. “I heard about your vandalism.” Her gaze roamed the shop. “Probably boys running wild,” she muttered. “Why, in my day, the boys tore down and reassembled a carriage on Old Man Hiatt’s roof.” She put the plate on the counter and picked up an unwound spool of ribbon and began winding it.

  Clearly, Laura had no idea of the seriousness of the situation. “This wasn’t a prank.”

  L
aura tucked the rewound spool into the drawer and turned to Adelaide. “It wasn’t? Oh, my. Well, then who did it?”

  “The sheriff found no evidence of who did it. I have my suspicions, but for now, I’d better keep them to myself.”

  Laura’s brow furrowed and she looked tempted to pry, but instead she picked up the plate, peeling back the napkin to reveal the spongy cake beneath. “I brought you a wedge of angel food cake. In a crisis, I turn to sweets.” Laura giggled. “Actually, I turn to sweets when good things happen and when nothing happens.”

  Smiling, Adelaide gave Laura a hug. “Thank you for the cake and for coming. Every time I need you, you’re here for me.”

  “And you for me, dear.”

  Adelaide could put the gift to good use. “This might soften Charles’s resistance.”

  “Resistance to what?” Laura raised her brows, a gleam in her eyes. “You?”

  “More like my words. A couple more columns I’ve written that he’s not exactly eager to print.”

  “For goodness sakes, Adelaide, you already have a business. You don’t need more to do. What you need to concentrate on is that man. Take Mr. Graves the cake and sweeten your relationship.” She shook her head. “This vandalism is a sign you need a man to take care of you.”

  “I can take care of myself. You know that.”

  Laura sighed. “Would it hurt to pretend you can’t?”

  Adelaide grabbed a broom and swept the last of the debris into the dustpan. “Why would I do that?”

  “A man likes to feel needed.” Laura planted her hands on her hips. “All this independence is your mother’s fault.”

  Adelaide straightened. “How?”

  “Because of her, you’ve held in your feelings all those years and now you can’t let them go.”

  Though Adelaide wanted to deny what her friend said, the words resonated inside her. But what did it matter? Letting go of feelings only led to getting them trampled. She dumped the dustpan into the garbage. “I don’t let my emotions control me.”

  “Are those columns about women getting the vote? Lands sake. Don’t we ladies have enough to do as it is, without worrying about politics?”