Still, Forever, Promise

by D. L. Merritt

  “What is it?”

  “That’s the woman I ran into last night.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Speechless, he could only nod.

  Ms. Kennedy wasn’t the only spirit haunting the manor. Sarah remained too.

  Brianna continued to dig through the other pockets, squealing with delight when she came upon another letter. This one was addressed to Sarah. She moved beneath the windows and sat down in a dusty wicker rocking chair to open the first of Sarah’s letters while Riley returned the items to the trunk, stacking them neatly one on top of the other, as they’d found them.

  Brianna skimmed through the pages. They didn’t reveal anything of vital importance. Sarah wrote about her daily activities, always mentioning how much she missed James. She told him she prayed every night for his safe return and yearned for the time when they could leave Fairmont and begin their new life in another town where no one knew her as the girl from the town brothel.

  The third letter referred to Sarah’s best friend, Becky, who’d been ill for days. It didn’t look like she was getting any better, despite Ms. Kennedy’s personal physician coming every day to check on her. The letter described Sarah’s weekly trips to the river, where she would sit under the tree where James had carved their heart and where he’d proposed. It somehow made her feel closer to him.

  Brianna had found her mystery couple.

  Sarah ended all her letters in the same fashion as James: Still, Forever, Promise.

  Riley interrupted to ask her if she’d found anything important.

  “So far, they’re standard love letters. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

  “This has been a waste of time. We already knew James died in the war and Sarah committed suicide, so what more did you think you could get from coming here?”

  “I’m not so sure she killed herself. She writes about how much she wants to have a large family, and she was pregnant when she supposedly committed suicide. I don’t think she would ever hurt an innocent child . . . unless she didn’t know she was pregnant.”

  “Or the baby wasn’t James’s, and she couldn’t face telling him the truth. She did work in a brothel.” Riley wandered off to the opposite side of the basement.

  Brianna continued to read the rest of Sarah’s letters. The true cause of Becky’s death came in the fifth one. Sarah confirmed Becky was pregnant. Ms. Kennedy found out and demanded she have an abortion. This hadn’t surprised Sarah. All the girls knew the house rule. No one was allowed to have children, and Ms. Kennedy went to great lengths to enforce that policy.

  In the days that followed the abortion, Becky experienced high fevers, chills, and excessive bleeding. Brianna suspected Becky either hemorrhaged to death or died from infection.

  Sarah went to the police and even wrote a letter to the editor of the newspaper about the cover-up in Becky’s death. She wanted everyone to know the truth. The paper refused to run it, and the police closed their investigation. Sarah feared her friend would never find justice.

  Becky was Sarah’s only friend, and now that she was dead and James was gone, her loneliness was unbearable. Every night she would stare out her window at the mountains, dreaming of the life she would one day share with James.

  Sarah’s the shadow in the window. How sad that she relives that moment in time, a moment when she still had hope?

  Brianna went back to reading, fascinated by the love Sarah had for James, and how it came pouring out in her letters. Since she’d fallen in love with him, she could no longer endure the unwanted touch of other men. His promise to help her escape from her life of servitude was the only hope she had. Her dreams were simple. She prayed for a chance to finish school and become a teacher.

  Sarah admitted to practicing her teaching skills on the other girls at the manor. She taught several of them to read and write. She wanted them to have a chance for a better life should they be lucky enough to find a way out of Ms. Kennedy’s employ.

  She also wrote that when they left Fairmont, James would no longer have to struggle in the mines. They could buy a plot of land where he could farm while she taught at the local school. Their children would be free to get a good education and grow up to become whatever they chose.

  In the next to last letter, Sarah mentioned she had a secret to tell James, but it could wait until he returned. They would talk when he was home safe.

  Was her pregnancy the secret?

  Brianna skimmed to the end and was surprised by the maturity in Sarah’s words.

  James, I have spent the past month thinking about our situation. I know we didn’t meet under the best of circumstances, but we may not have met at all if I wasn’t working for Ms. Kennedy. We have faced many challenges in our lives, and I choose to look at those challenges, not as obstacles, but as opportunities. We both know that life doesn’t always give us what we want, but we have survived whatever the world has thrown at us. We must embrace life, the good and the bad, because it is all a part of the journey. We can make our life whatever we choose if we can put the past behind us and move forward. I know in my heart we are meant to be together. I pray you feel the same.

  Despite the horrible situation Sarah had found herself in, she continued to have faith in life, in people, even in herself. She admired Sarah for her fortitude and wisdom.

  Brianna moved on to the last letter, where faint water stains littered the pages. She wondered if these were from Sarah’s tears. From the opening sentence, Brianna realized this letter was different from all the others. It was a Dear John letter.

  “Riley! I’ve found something.”

  “Coming.” He joined her carrying a silver-plated candlestick. “What is it?”

  Brianna stared at the candlestick and then at Riley. “You do know this isn’t a garage sale?”

  Riley sat the candlestick down on a nearby table. “I wanted to see if it was authentic or a reproduction. Anyway, what did you find?”

  “I know what the scandal was that caused the rift between Henry and James.”

  “You found it in the letters?”

  “The last one. Remember Cynthia mentioned Henry wanted to go into politics?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Well, when Henry heard James intended to get married, he had Sarah investigated. When he found out she was a prostitute, he flew into a rage, said it would ruin his political career. He wouldn’t tolerate a woman like Sarah becoming a part of their family. He came to Fairmont and confronted her with what he’d found. He tried to bribe her with money. She refused the bribe but told Henry she would break off the engagement. She never wanted to come between the brothers. Family should always come first. Look what she did to save her family. She understood how hard Henry worked to raise himself up out of poverty, and that he only wanted to protect what he’d built. From the little I’ve discovered about Sarah, she was an unselfish individual.”

  “That could explain her reason for committing suicide. James was her one chance of getting out of the brothel. Dying may have been her only option,” Riley said.

  Brianna agreed, but had a nagging suspicion that Ms. Kennedy might have had Sarah killed to keep her quiet.

  Riley stood next to her chair and watched her open James’s final letter. As she read to herself, he peered over her shoulder.

  Once she was finished, she wiped away the tears with the back of her hand. Riley patted her shoulder and cleared his throat. She thought she saw tears glistening in his eyes. He’s not so macho after all.

  Brianna clasped the letters to her chest and grabbed the roll of money off the floor. With Riley behind her, they headed back upstairs.

  They found Cynthia reading a novel in the living room.

  “There you are! I thought you might be thirsty after digging around in all that dust. I hope you like lemonade,” she said as she poured them both a glass from a silver pitcher that rested on a serving tray atop the console table next to her. “It’s fresh. I made it this morning.”

  Brianna and Riley nodde
d.

  “Please have a seat and make yourselves comfortable,” Cynthia said, motioning toward the cream-colored Louis XVI settee.

  Brianna brushed off the dust and dirt covering the back of her pants before sitting on the valuable antique sofa. She surveyed the room, admiring the décor. Two yellow-and-cream-striped upholstered armchairs served as classic bookends to the stone-encased fireplace. Two 18th century French side tables sat in front of the casement windows in the castle-keep-style niches surrounded by limestone. The room, decorated in the French country style, was elegant and yet cozy.

  “Did you find what you were looking for?” Cynthia asked.

  “I did.” Brianna held up the packet of letters. “Sarah wrote these, with the exception of this one.” She held up James’s last letter. “I learned a great deal about their relationship. I can’t thank you enough for allowing us to come here. I’m closer to understanding why Sarah would’ve committed suicide.”

  Cynthia gasped. “She killed herself? How awful. She must have been young if she was engaged to James.”

  “She was only sixteen.” Brianna decided not to enlighten Cynthia on Henry’s part in the lover’s breakup or that Sarah was a prostitute. What purpose would it serve now? James and Sarah’s relationship was a tragic love story that didn’t have a fairy tale ending.

  Brianna pulled the roll of bills from her pocket and handed it to Cynthia. “James had this stashed in his haversack. I thought you should have it.”

  Cynthia unrolled the money, flipping through the bills. “There’s about a hundred dollars in here. I’m surprised no one has confiscated this before now. This proves Henry felt so guilty that he couldn’t even go through his brother’s things. It was almost like James never existed.”

  “Cynthia, would you mind if I take these and make copies?” Brianna asked, waving the letters in the air. “I promise to bring them right back. I’d like to read them again. I only skimmed through them the first time, and I might have missed an important clue.”

  “That won’t be necessary. I have a scanner in my office. I’ll make the copies for you.” She picked up a picture from the table and handed it to Brianna. It was a photo of a young man in uniform. “I remembered seeing this picture of James when I was a child. A family member found it stuffed in one of Henry’s desk drawers, and they put it on the bookshelf in the office. I thought you’d be interested in seeing what James looked like. It was taken the day before he was shipped off to France.”

  Cynthia used her cane to help herself up and took the letters from Brianna. “I’ll make your copies.”

  After she left the room, Brianna and Riley studied the photo. James was an attractive man with straight blonde hair slicked back from a side part. He was tall and slender with a kind face, wide-open, trusting eyes, and an easy smile. She understood why Sarah was attracted to him.

  Riley had swallowed the last of his lemonade and had set it on the silver tray when Cynthia returned. She handed Brianna a manila folder with the copies and a frayed cardboard box.

  “It’s the Distinguished Service Cross. James received this posthumously for rescuing a wounded soldier 100 feet from enemy lines. He dragged the man to safety while dodging heavy artillery fire. The soldier survived. James did not. His commanding officer had him buried, along with many others, near the battlefield in the Somme River region of France. After the war, Henry had a headstone engraved, and he flew to France to place it on James’s grave. He regretted the fight that tore them apart until the day he died. He made a pilgrimage to France every three years until he got too frail to travel. I always meant to go and pay my respects, but I never seemed to find the time.”

  Brianna placed her empty glass on the tray next to Riley’s, and handed the box back to Cynthia.

  James was a war hero. If Sarah had known would it have made any difference in her decision? She could only speculate.

  “It’s getting late, Riley. We should head back.”

  He stood, pulling the keys from his pocket.

  “If you ever unravel the mystery, please give me a call. I’d love to know what happened to James and Sarah,” Cynthia said.

  Brianna hugged her. “I will. I promise. Thank you, Cynthia, for allowing us to invade your home.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m glad I could help, and I’ve enjoyed the company. It’s been awhile since I’ve had visitors. If you’re ever in Charleston again, come by and see me.”

  Brianna promised she would, and she meant it.

  Riley escorted Brianna to the car. Her mind wandered for the entire two-hour drive to Fairmont.

  Death seemed to surround her. First her parents and now all those poor individuals who’d lived in the manor. She knew from experience that life is sometimes hard. There are times when a situation forces you to make a decision you wouldn’t normally make.

  The truth of her parent’s death hadn’t been revealed, but she was determined to do whatever necessary to find out the truth about Sarah’s.

  Chapter 28

  The drive back to Fairmont seemed to take forever. As the car swung into the driveway, Brianna saw a visitor rocking in one of the chairs on the veranda. The parking area was empty. So was the street. How did they get here and why?

  “Who’s that?” Riley asked.

  The Porsche cruised to a stop, and the visitor stood up.

  Charlene? Great! She would have to come today. I wonder how long it’ll take her to ask me who the hunk is. “That’s my business partner,” she replied.

  “Were you expecting her?”

  “No, I wasn’t.”

  Riley parked the car and came around to help Brianna out. She made sure to keep a respectable distance from him as they walked toward the veranda so Charlene wouldn’t read more into the situation then there was. She knew her friend well enough to know she would suspect the worse.

  “Well, it’s about time you got back,” Charlene said. “I was worried you’d left town, and I’d have to spend the night in a hotel. I was about to call a cab when I saw the car pull up.”

  Charlene’s voice irritated Brianna. She didn’t understand why it bothered her today; it never had before. Why did she feel this resentment? Or was it shame for being caught with Riley? “I had an errand to run.”

  “And you needed an escort?” Charlene’s voice oozed with disapproval. She glanced at the car. “Where’s Benjie? Didn’t he go with you?”

  Brianna could feel the heat rising up her cheeks. What’s wrong with me? I’m acting like I’ve committed a mortal sin. “He’s in Montreal on assignment.”

  “When’s he coming back?”

  “By the end of the week. You didn’t rent a car?”

  “I knew you had one, so I took the bus from the airport to Fairmont. Then I got a taxi to bring me here.” Charlene ogled Riley. “Who’s the hunk?”

  I knew it. Riley reeked of masculinity, exactly Charlene’s type. “An old friend from high school.”

  Brianna made the appropriate introductions. Riley tipped his head in Charlene’s direction, and then he shook her hand. She held his a little longer than necessary, or at least Brianna thought so.

  “We didn’t have guys at my high school that looked this hot. Did you two date, Bree? If you did, why would you let him get away?”

  With a smirk, Riley interrupted. “You know I’m standing right here.”

  Their laughter eased Brianna’s tension. She looped her arm through Charlene’s and decided to accept the unexpected visit as a nice surprise. “Let’s go inside. I’m sure you’re exhausted from the long flight. Riley, would you bring her luggage in?”

  Once the door opened, Charlene bounced inside, spinning around the reception area. “It looks even better in person,” she said.

  Riley deposited the suitcase at the bottom of the stairs and stood in silence, watching the exchange between Charlene and Brianna with a puzzled look on his face.

  “Would you like to go upstairs and rest for a while?” Brianna asked.

  “
No, I slept during most of the flight. Besides, I’m interested in finding out what’s been going on here,” she said, eyeing Riley.

  Brianna knew Charlene was intrigued with Riley. She had two telltale signs when she was interested in a man—batting her eyelashes, and playing with her hair. Charlene was doing both.

  “An . . . Bree, I should go and let you visit with your friend. Thanks for letting me tag along today. And it was nice meeting you, Charlene.” He headed for the door.

  Charlene grabbed his sleeve as he passed. “You can’t leave yet. I’d like to get to know you better. You have to stay and have dinner with us. I’ll cook. I’m really good at it. Tell him, Bree.” Charlene blinked her eyes rapidly and twisted her hair around her index finger.

  If she keeps doing that, her hair’s going to fall out. Brianna smiled, imagining Charlene bald. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

  Riley looked at Brianna for approval. She didn’t relish spending the entire evening with them both. The last few days had been grueling enough without keeping up the pretense that Riley meant nothing to her. She’d crack under Charlene’s scrutiny. Spending time with Riley had opened up old wounds. Her hatred had diminished. Her feelings had changed. She wasn’t in the mood to try to explain their relationship to Charlene, especially since she couldn’t explain it to herself. With two pairs of eyes looking at her in expectation, she nodded her approval. “Charlene is an excellent cook, Riley. You won’t be disappointed.”

  Charlene beamed. “Where’s the kitchen,” she asked. “I need to see what I have to work with. We might need to make a run to the store.”

  Brianna led the way, glad she’d had the foresight to stock up on groceries.

  Charlene opened the pantry and refrigerator to assess what was available. Clicking her tongue in an annoying manner, Charlene laid a box of pasta, two cans of diced tomatoes, onions, a package of Italian sausage, and spices on the counter.

  “Looks like I have everything I need to make my famous spaghetti. Would you mind if I freshen up first?”

  “Of course not,” Brianna said.

  They walked back into the reception area, where Riley had made himself comfortable on the sofa, his feet propped up on the coffee table.