Into the Flames

by Multi-Author

  “I don’t know. Around, I guess. Drug store, maybe, or the Starlight.” The Starlight Diner was a popular lunch spot with the locals, especially when the tourists weren’t in town.

  “Son of a bitch.” Eli slumped down onto the bench. “Is that all you heard?”

  Holland nodded. “Why. Something else happen too?”

  “Not that anyone needs to know about.” What would it do to Nettie’s reputation if word got out she was staying at his house—even with two reputable chaperones? He pondered that for a minute and then reminded himself that there wasn’t a viable alternative. The hospital would give her father access, and even the police wouldn’t stop him, since most of them were old-fashioned enough to believe a woman was her parents’ property until she married. If the Websters had been home, he could have taken her there, but they wouldn’t be for almost a month. He couldn’t take her to his mother at the family summer home. She’d stick Nettie in the servants’ quarters at best. No, the best plan was to keep Diana with him and if anyone asked, Diana’s friend Nettie was staying to visit while Di was in town.

  “Well, it’s your funeral if he sneaks up on you with a hammer in the back of the head.” Holland shrugged. “Heard he’s a bit of a firebug, too.”

  “Where’d you hear that one?” Miserable though the idea was, it tallied with Eli’s observations of the Price property. Damn, maybe it was time to pay Barker another visit, if only to prove that when Eli made a threat, he meant it.

  Holland scratched his head. “Oddly enough, from your brother, I think. He’s at your mom’s house for the weekend, and I was there working on the greenhouse this afternoon.”

  “Alex.” Diana had told Eli that the second-oldest Lawson was in town. It was one more reason she’d so readily agreed to relocate. Of all the siblings, Alexander was the one who somehow rubbed the others wrong. “Damn. He’s got to be up to something.”

  “Price or your brother?” Holland pulled on a light work coat and his everyday hat.

  Eli popped his fedora on his head. “Both.”

  * * *

  Nettie didn’t need anyone to wake her after two hours. An hour after Diana left, Nettie found herself awake—and bored out of her mind. Yes, she hurt all over, but her mind was racing, mostly with incredulity about being here, in Eli Lawson’s home.

  He’d stacked all her belongings in the room, so she didn’t have to ask anyone for a magazine. The book of poetry she’d been re-reading the day before—had it really only been twenty-four hours since she’d crawled up to her room?—waited with the others on a side table. A luxurious window seat beckoned, the stars out now, winking in the black velvet sky. Limping only slightly on her bound ankle, she turned on a second lamp and crossed to the table, settling herself in the cozy space, which even had a blanket waiting to be draped over her legs—a little awkward one-handed, but she managed. She opened the book, waited until her vision stopped jumping around on the page and read over the familiar lines. Since she was alone, she allowed herself the luxury of reading a few poems out loud.

  “Stone walls do not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage…”

  The door, which hadn’t been latched, pushed open. “Minds innocent and quiet take that for an hermitage.”

  “Eli, you know Richard Lovelace.” Well of obviously he did. She could be such a ninny when it came to him. “Are you all right? Was anyone hurt?”

  He waved off her question and stalked toward her. “What are you doing out of bed?”

  “Reading.” She held up the book. “And this window seat is wonderful. It’s almost like being in bed, but easier to sit up.”

  “The doctor said bedrest.” He stood directly in front of her, close enough so she could see he’d singed another eyebrow. “This is not a bed and you didn’t fly here. Which means you were up. Walking.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” She closed the book and dropped it into her lap. “Quit fussing so. I’ve sprained my ankle before; I know what I can manage. I’ve also been to the washroom. I utterly refuse to use a bedpan, and I don’t see anyone volunteering for help with that anyway. The doctor gave me a crutch. I can manage short distances.” It had felt lovely to brush her teeth. The doctor and his nurse had cleaned her face to deal with the various cuts, but come tomorrow morning, she was washing that too, assuming she could manage with her cast. Don’t get it wet, had been the physicians number one command.

  “Well, now you’re going back to bed—unless you need a trip to the washroom first.” He put both hands on his hips and stared into her eyes, a silent clash of willpower.

  Nettie yawned, costing her the contest. It turned simultaneously into a giggle and a gasp of pain. “Do not make me laugh,” she muttered. “And I finished washing up—well, brushing up, anyway.” She held up her cast.

  “Then bed.” He gently scooped her into his arms and deposited her back in the center of the large bed.”

  She yawned again. “What time is it?”

  “Nearly eleven.” He pointed to a clock she’d forgotten was on the night table. “I’ll back at one to wake you.”

  “You really don’t need to. My head is feeling better.”

  “Too bad. Unlike some people, I can follow a doctor’s instructions.” He covered her carefully and tucked the soft blankets around her. Having him loom so close, after his strong arms had held her, made her stomach quiver. He smelled of smoke, but under it was a faint trace of aftershave and sweat that was irresistibly attractive. To her disappointment, he pulled back, his gaze still locked with hers, which made her breathless. “There’s a glass of water you can reach, and a bell if you need anything else. My sister and I are both light sleepers. We’ll hear it if you call.” He feathered a soft kiss across her forehead and left, leaving the bedroom door open a few inches.

  “What if I need you?” she whispered. She’d read enough, she knew what she was feeling was desire. What she didn’t know was what to do about it. She’d never been in this situation before.

  * * *

  Dr. Lexington arrived bright and early the following morning. Since she’d been woken by Mrs. VanCleve at seven with a breakfast tray, Nettie was already awake when the doctor arrived half an hour later He was middle-aged, with silver spectacles and the beginnings of a paunch. More importantly, his smile was sincere and filled with concern, unlike her father’s physician, Dr. Rollins, who only seemed to see his patients as a source of income. It was he who’d informed her that she’d killed her mother by bringing home the scarlet fever, despite much of the town having been infected.

  This time Diana remained in the room instead of the disapproving nurse, which Nettie found much more comfortable. The doctore seemed satisfied with Nettie’s progress, but demanded a promise of one more day of bedrest, with short excursions to the window seat only for an hour once or twice a day. With a deep sigh, Nettie promised. She didn’t much feel like running about anyway. All her bruises ached today, and some were starting to itch. Her arm still throbbed, but her head was clearing. She did convince him to allow four hour sleep shifts instead of two. Small victories were still victories, she supposed.

  Still unable to manage much in the way of solid food through her swollen lips, she ate Mrs. VanCleve’s oatmeal with cinnamon and honey. From now on, she decided, that’s the way she was going to fix it as well. She had to remind herself not to lick the bowl. Diana disappeared through the bathroom adjoining their two rooms. She started water running in the tub and then returned with a large shopping bag.

  “Come on. I’m sure you can’t wait to take a bath.” A teasing smile curved her crimson lips.

  “How?” Nettie pointed to her bound arm.

  “Ta-da!” The first item Diana pulled from her shopping bag was an oiled cotton tablecloth, the kind you could simply wipe down with a damp rag and use again.”

  “Trust me, darling. You know I always have a plan. No frogs this time, though.”

  They both chuckled over the shared memory. Nett
ie sighed. “I missed you, when your family moved to Chicago for the school year. Still, I’m glad they kept this as their summer home.”

  “Me too. I understand why Eli stays. If Randolph’s office wasn’t in Chicago, I’d have him move to Carstairs in a minute. There’s something much more I don’t know—real about being here than circulating among the bored snobs on The Golden Mile.”

  She put her arm around Nettie and helped her out of the bed and into the bathroom. The perfume of jasmine filled the air from the bubbles in the bath water. Nettie found herself stripped of her nightgown and seated on a small vanity stool, while Diana wrapped her arm first in a towel, then in the oilcloth, before tying it up with twine like a butcher’s roast.

  “Now, I’ll turn my head while you drop your drawers, but hold onto my shoulder with your good arm while you step into the tub. Did I ever tell you I helped nurse Randolph’s mother when she was ill? You can relax, Net. I know what I’m about.”

  Nettie did as she was told, cautiously using her uninjured foot to step into the shallow but frothy water. “You have gobs of money. Why not hire a nurse?”

  “Oh we did, but I was fond of the old harridan you see. So when the nurse took her day off, I stepped in. It was nice to feel truly useful for a change.” Diana turned to help Nettie ease down in the water, holding her cast out over the rim of the tub. Then she slid over the vanity stool so Nettie could prop her arm on that as she relaxed back into the bubbles.

  “My God, this is heavenly.” Nettie closed her eyes. “I hated to complain but I was feeling a bit rank. Thanks, Di. You’re a good nurse, as well as a good frog-hunter.”

  “Just you wait, Nettie Price. I’m nowhere near done with you yet.” Diana produced a bar of jasmine soap and a bottle of actual hair shampoo. “Now let’s get that braid out, shall we? The doc said there were no cuts or stitches to worry about on your scalp, so we can give everything a good washing—except the arm, I’m afraid.”

  “As long as we can do my hand and fingers around the cast, I’ll be fine.” Nettie relaxed, allowing someone to pamper her for the first time since her mother’s death. “I’ve never used shampoo before. Soap has always worked fine.”

  “Well, it’s supposed to make your hair shinier and softer. We’ll rinse it with a little jasmine water, though, so it will smell like the rest of you.”

  “Good lord. I don’t even want to know what you spent. It makes me feel like a charity case.” Which, Nettie supposed, was the truth, after all.

  Diana made a tsking sound as she massaged the shampoo into Nettie’s long hair. “No. You’re a friend—of my brother’s and mine. And I’m having fun spoiling you. Consider it a trial run for being a mum, if you like.”

  “I make an awfully big infant. And I’m not sure I like that notion any better.” Nettie should object further, but in all honesty, it felt too wonderful. She obediently tipped her head when Diana reached for a silver pitcher filled with scented hot water that had been set aside.

  After washing herself—with a little help where her one arm wouldn’t reach, Nettie lay in the tub until the water began to cool. Meanwhile, Diana carefully washed Nettie’s hand where it extended from the cast, even cleaning under her fingernails and filing off some ragged edges. “Other hand.” While Nettie soaked, Diana gave her a similar manicure on her right side, and rubbed jasmine lotion into both. Once again, Nettie felt like a princess—or an imposter.

  Mrs. VanCleve was brought in to help towel Nettie dry, apply talc under her arms, and get her dressed in a new nightgown. The older woman goggled at the garment as much as Nettie did.

  “Di, this is indecent!” The silk gown was nearly transparent and had no sleeves, so it went on easily over the cast. The neckline was lower than anything Nettie had ever worn.

  “Relax. The bed jacket that goes over it is perfectly modest. No one will see this part unless you want them to.”

  The housekeeper sniffed, but didn’t argue.

  Diana hadn’t lied. The quilted velvet bed jacket was lovely and modest, with mother of pearl buttons up to the lace-trimmed Peter Pan collar, and bell-shaped sleeves that would go right over the cast. Best of all, the blue would match Nettie’s eyes, which was maybe the sweetest touch of all. Matching slippers waited beside the bed, and her hair was towel-dried, braided again, and tied with a matching ribbon.

  “Now for the final touches,” Diana said after an exhausted Nettie had been deposited back in bed. She plucked a gold tube from the dressing table, which seemed much fuller than it had been the night before. “Pucker your lips, like this.” She made the shape of a kiss.

  Nettie was too tired to argue, so she allowed Diana to apply lipstick and use a soft brush to apply a faint coat of powder on her battered face.

  “Here you go.” Diana handed over a silver-plated mirror. “I told you pink would be perfect.”

  Nettie blinked at the sight of herself. It was still her, obviously, and she’d worn blue before, but nothing so fine. She looked—cared for—aside from the black and blue, of course. Maybe even almost pretty. Her eyes misted.

  “Now one last thing.” Diana took away the mirror and replaced it in Nettie’s hand with a small glass bottle. “Jasmin, by the house of Chanel. Just put the tiniest touch on each wrist, for daytime. You can be a bit more liberal if you’re going out at night.”

  Nettie gasped. She read the magazines that came through the bookshop. A bottle—even a single ounce one like this—of Chanel perfume cost more than her monthly grocery budget. “It’s too much,” she choked.

  “Nonsense.” Diana took the bottle and leaned over to kiss Nettie on the cheek. “I haven’t had so much fun in years. Wait until I take you to the hairdresser. Fancy a bob?”

  “You will not convince Nettie to cut her hair.” Eli stood in the doorway left open by the housekeeper when she’d left with the damp towels and Nettie’s old nightgown. “Not every woman is a modern like you, brat.” He tugged a lock of his sister’s hair. “Nettie’s hair is lovely the way it is.”

  Lovely? He thought her hair—anything about her was lovely? Nettie blinked up at him in wonder.

  He winked and grinned. “Although the lipstick is a nice touch—as long as you stay with a soft color. No crimson for you. You look a hundred percent better than yesterday, my dear.”

  Nettie shook her head. “The bruises look even worse. They’ve spread out and turned all sorts of greens and yellows…”

  “All signs of healing, which you know as well as I do.” He took a seat in the vacant chair, and studied her face. “You’re overdue for some aspirin, aren’t you? And a nap?”

  Before Nettie could answer, Diana nodded. “She is. That was next on the agenda, after making her feel clean again.” She handed her brother the bottle. “Ta-ta. I’m off for a catnap myself. Have fun you two.” She left through the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

  With a chuckle, Eli handed over two aspirin and then the glass of water from Nettie’s night table. “Don’t let her push you into anything. She can be a real whirlwind when she gets going.”

  “I know. That’s what I always liked about her.” Nettie took the medicine, and then leaned back against the pillows. “She shouldn’t have spent so much money, though. It will take me years to pay her back for all the clothes, the creams and perfumes and so on.”

  Eli took her good hand and rubbed it between his fingers. “Soft—whatever she put on your hands feels nice. But no matter how much she spent, it isn’t even a fraction of her pin money. And taking care of you is making her happy. Don’t worry about repayment. Do a good turn for someone else when you have the chance. That will delight her more than anything.”

  “All right.” She turned her hand in his to shake it. “We have a deal, Mr. Lawson.”

  “I’d think that since you’re living in my house, and my sister’s friend, you could call me Eli, don’t you?” He raised one tawny eyebrow—the one that had almost completely grown back.

&n
bsp; “Eli,” she said softly. “You never go by Elias?”

  “No, that’s strictly my grandfather. Father was usually Junior or later, Andrew, our middle name. What about you? I’ve only heard you called Nettie. Do you prefer Annette, then?”

  Nettie shuddered. “No. Only my father ever used that. And only when he’s angry. I much prefer Nettie, thank you.”

  “I’m sorry. Nettie it is. It suits you anyway. Gentle and sweet.”

  Nettie grinned. “I’m not all that Mr.—Eli. Did your sister ever tell you about the frog incident?”

  He nodded. “Last night. Why? I assume she roped you into one of her pranks.”

  “Everyone did.” Nettie laughed. “Poor Diana. No one would ever believe her. I was the one who talked her into catching the frog. I may look like a mouse on the outside, and I may have let a deathbed promise keep me in a horrible situation, but I’m not always sweet. You might want to remember that.”

  Eli laughed. “I will.” He leaned over to kiss her, this time on the lips, not the forehead. It was quick, but still sent a quiver all the way through Nettie’s bones. “Sleep now. You can be wicked later.”

  She sighed as he walked to the door, and then giggled when he turned to look at her one last time.

  “What?” His brow wrinkled.

  “You might want to wash your face. Tea rose is definitely not your color.”

  Chapter Six

  Eli was losing his mind. Nettie had been staying at his home for nearly a week now. Between her presence and the fact that a rash of fires had been sweeping their little town, he’d gotten almost no sleep. He’d nearly dozed off during a client meeting that morning.

  He was going to have to do something about Nettie. She couldn’t live with him forever, and he swore he’d seen her father lingering outside the house—as if waiting to catch a glimpse of her. She was mending rapidly—her concussion and ankle all but healed and she’d begun to get restless. She kept insisting that come next Monday, she was going back to work at the bookshop. Eli didn’t much care for the idea of her being anywhere that Al could get to her. He hadn’t been able to come up with a plan to keep her safe.