It was then she noticed the indents. Shannon bent closer and at the end of her jawbone on one side, she noticed what looked like finger prints embedded into her soft ivory skin. So intent on observing, she did not hear anyone approach.
“What are you staring at?” Walter asked. She jumped at the sound of his voice and spun around.
“Walter—I mean Dr. Franssen—I mean,” she was fumbling with words but it managed to crack his stern expression.
“Here I am known as Walter to friends and family. Feel free to join the ranks.”
“Have you looked closely at your sister? Did you notice anything…off?”
“I was too distraught in the hospital. I fled the room, feeling guilty and sad all at the same time.”
“I don’t think you need feel guilt, Walter. Examine the skin close to the base of her ears and tell me I am seeing things.”
He bent over the body and stiffened, obviously seeing the same tell-tale marks. He glanced upward and she saw the shock. Carefully he imitated the position, the palm of his hand stretching across her mouth and nostrils causing his fingers to land in approximately the same location as those indents that now took on a slight purple hue under the makeup cream that had been smeared on Anna’s face.
“Suffocated?” he asked, as if he had to convince himself. “I never examined her fully, just fled like a coward.”
“How could you know anything was amiss? She’d been on death’s door before,” Shannon said trying to console him.
“It was the bag on the floor beside the bed and powdery drug smeared on the lips that threw me off—seemed the probable indicator to her demise.” Walter dropped in to a nearby chair and buried his face in his hands. She moved alongside and rested a hand on his shoulder. She longed to hold him—to be back in his good graces where he’d expect such solace from the woman he loved.
“Walter—I’m so sorry to add to your grief.”
He leaned back and she could feel his muscles tense. “Janus! He’s the only one who’d do such a thing.”
She bit her lip and was startled by the voice at the doorway. “What are you saying, son?” his father asked.
They both turned abruptly to stare at Mr. Franssen. “We’ve just noticed marks on Anna’s face, like she’d been smothered and the drug planted on her to hide his trail. She didn’t die of an overdose at all.” Walter punched his fist into the palm of his hand but the action only added to his expression of smoldering rage.
The man marched across the room and examined his daughter’s remains. “Your mother must not see this. We men shall handle Janus Arnold when the mourning is over.” He glanced at Shannon. “Can you cover it up so Gabrielle doesn’t notice?”
Shannon turned and pulled out locks of hair that hung down Anna’s back and out of sight, and repositioned the curls attractively around her face and jawline. She took a few of the yellow mums from the vases and arranged them into her hair at the jawline. The mark was covered but the wonderful smile remained to console the heart of Anna’s mother.
“Thank you,” Mr. Franssen said. “That’s perfect.”
“What’s perfect?” came another voice from the doorway. Mrs. Franssen wore a black dress which made her pale face appear more fragile and vulnerable.
“Our daughter looks content, and that smile we love so much tells me she is with the Lord in Heaven. I hope it brings you comfort, my dear.”
Mrs. Franssen approached slowly and joined them at the casket. Tears gathered in her eyes and she clung to her husband for support. “Anna had great potential for a good and lengthy lifetime—to be snubbed out by her own hand is unthinkable. It’s hard for me to believe that life could have gotten so desperate for her and we sat here and did nothing.”
Walter laid a hand on his mother’s shoulder. “We all know Anna would not have let you do anything to help. Don’t go down that road of regret.” He gazed over her graying head of hair, and focused on Shannon. “Someone wise once told me that. We all are free to choose our paths, Mother,” he continued, although his gaze never left Shannon’s face, “and we all bear the consequences of our downfall.”
Shannon’s heart raced as he penetrated her soul with his words. She had choices to make and, in this moment, she’d love to run into his arms and promise him her forever love—but that would be totally inappropriate and would have to wait for a more suitable time.
The family sat in the parlor with Anna that evening, recalling the good times of yesteryears, and often, in good humor, casting the odd remark toward the guest of honor laying still in the coffin. They also seemed pleased to have a stranger in their midst to recite their tales too, which distilled Shannon’s fears of not belonging. She observed how the misery of those who loved the deceased girl lifted somewhat, and determined that the exercise provided a wonderful freedom, enough to give release to stress and grief. Tomorrow the house would be full of mourners, coming to support the family through one of life’s trials that no one is prepared for—burying their loved one.
Shannon would be there to support the man she loved and afterward would bear her heart to him, wholly and without limitations. She’d rather be his wife and the mother of his children than any career spinsterhood could offer. If only she’d told him that when he’d professed his love for her so openly; before she’d witnessed that hurt expression on his face that would haunt her for all time should he now reject her love.
Chapter 10
The next day, carriages began to arrive shortly after lunch, to pay their respects to Anna and the family. Shannon wore a black netted veil over her eyes and Walter introduced her as Miss Tyre, a colleague and friend of the family. Many guessed the connection to her Kentuckian home state and raved about the textiles industry to which her father was well known. The Franssen parents put on a brave front and turned a deaf ear to quiet murmurs concerning the questionable reputation of the wayward daughter.
As a whole, the viewing and the graveside service went off without too many hitches and the light refreshments served afterward provided a time for the men to get back to business, which never seemed to be too far from their minds at any given time. The women politely consoled their friend and Mrs. Franssen appeared to appreciate their encouragement.
Life and death, two unavoidable destinies that everyone would encounter at some point during their appointed span of time on earth. To those who did not know their Creator, the purpose seemed a mystery, a question of debate. Shannon was satisfied that her goals to support the family had been fulfilled, and felt grateful that she was not the center of attention during that sad occasion.
Walter and Mrs. Franssen were both busy with guests, so Shannon slipped away to stretch her legs. She went up the hill toward the now abandoned graveside and leaned against the white picket fence staring at the coffin lying beside a gaping hole—the one that would soon house Anna’s body. Employees would come later to bury the box and cover it with earth. She paused to read the many inscriptions on tombstones in the family graveyard, reciting aloud generations of Franssen’s that had passed on.
Shannon pondered the destiny of man and wondered if any earthlings ever got their paths right—the way God planned it. The easiest appeared to be the well-traveled wide road that offered diversities of alternatives, for to narrow it down to the one clear path that would bring the Creator the greatest joy, was unmistakably harder. To focus on that dedicated route and not sway from its course was the ultimate life challenge that a believer need keep in sight at all times, lest they be led astray.
The question begged to be answered if Shannon had followed the exact trail set before her. She had dishonored her parents, to which she needed to seek forgiveness for such rebellion. As to revolting against the standard quo of an arranged marriage she could not fathom that a caring God would expect that from her. She’d always wanted to be a nurse. Yet, as she found herself musing now, she only wanted to be a wife—Walter’s wife. The mind was fickle and a difficult thing to comprehend. The scripture popped into h
er head, ‘lean not on your own understanding but trust in the Lord.’ That seemed like good advice and she clung to it. Other than the black and white issues presented in the Bible, perhaps He only held her responsible for the things He whispered in her ear, to be achieved in His time, for try as she might, she felt no condemnation from Him that she had become a certified nurse.
She heard a noise behind her and spun around, coming face to face with a sullen looking character.
“Excuse me, sir,” she said, not recognizing the casually dressed man from the guests inside the main house. Perhaps a worker, she decided. “I will leave you in private to say your goodbyes to the deceased.”
As she turned to leave, he grabbed her arm. “No need for you to run away. Did you know Anna?”
“I only met her recently. I am a nurse at the hospital in Maple Grove.”
“A nurse?” he said as he stared at the temporary cross that marked the open grave. “They got her name wrong.”
“Anna Franssen? Yes, I believe she was married. Perhaps that surname will be included on the engraved stone that has been ordered today.” Walter had informed her that one of the family’s friends in attendance apparently owned a quarry and the word of mouth transaction had taken place earlier by Mr. Franssen.
“I doubt it. Don’t think the marriage was popular at the big house.”
“Nonetheless, it happened and her name was changed.”
“That’s the way I see it. Didn’t catch you name?” he asked.
“Nor I yours—it appears we are not a curious pair.” She did not like the fire that lurked behind his steel blue eyes and wanted to make an exit. “Good day.” His fingers tightened around her arm and her flesh screamed in pain. “Let go of my arm, sir,” she stated in her firmest tone of voice.
“I want you to stay. My heart needs healing and you are a nurse—sworn to curing folks, they say.” His eyes bore through her, and his identity suddenly hit her. He was the man fighting with Walter at the train depot the day she’d arrived in town; Anna’s husband and perhaps her murderer.
“What can I do for you?” she asked politely, swallowing the lump in her throat and watching for an opportunity to escape.
“You can tell me why I should let you live while my wife is set to be laid six feet under the ground?”
“That’s an odd question. I have no fight with you.”
“But I do—with your boyfriend. I saw you cozied up beside him on the wagon seat yesterday, when you pulled in here.”
“You’ve been stalking the family?”
“Either you are purposely playing dumb or you honestly don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into being involved with a Franssen.”
“Have I met you?” She decided to play dumb.
He pulled her in close, his smirk revealing yellow teeth caused from the chewing tobacco she smelled on his breath.
“I’m Anna’s husband—the one no one seemed fit to invite to this here event. And I take offense not burying her on my land. She was mine, not theirs.”
“I can’t help you with that,” Shannon said. “Perhaps later, when the guests leave, you should knock on the door like a civil human being and make your request known.”
“Or I could bring you along with me, to help me bury my wife and console me with your company out at the ranch. Maybe you’ll take a shine to the place—Anna never did, but I have hopes for you. Not half bad to look at.”
Shannon did not like that idea one bit. “You’re talking nonsense.”
“We can always chalk it up to delirium. After all, I am in mourning.” He nodded to a nearby bush. “I was just about to load her back in the wagon to make the trip back. You strong? I could use a hand.” He unfastened the latch on the graveside gate and pushed Shannon forward. “You grab one end and I’ll get the other. Don’t want my new woman to strain herself, not yet anyway.”
“What if I refuse?” Shannon watched in horror as he opened his jacket and she saw the pistols hanging low on his hips.
“Wouldn’t do that if I were you. I have no qualms in shooting the doctor’s sweetie, but defiling her first would be more to my tastes.”
Shannon needed to buy time. She’d help him in hopes that the Franssens’ would miss her and come looking, rather sooner than later. Her abductor made leaving a sign for them to trail rather easy, as he personally knocked off her hat and tossed it to the side.
“Hate hats with nets that cover your face. A man needs to see the white of the eye to know when a person is lying to him.”
She bent low and grabbed under the box. “Well, don’t just stand there gawking. I can’t move this box alone.” Shannon wondered if she’d be able to budge it at all, but as it turned out, he was as strong as a bull-ox, and all she needed to do was steady it on her side and help steer it toward the nearby bush. Her fingers almost gave way before the casket rested on the back edge of the same wagon that she and Walter had driven from the hospital.
“Get it the back with her,” he ordered, “and stay quiet.
He was kidnapping her. With her footing at the tail end of the back opening still uncertain, he pushed her roughly inside. She suppressed a scream when she landed awkwardly on the casket. She quickly moved to the far side and was barely settled on the floor when she felt the wagon jostle from the breaks being released and the team trudged off. The driver steered the wagon in a round-about way past the house, where from a distance she sadly acknowledged there was no one lingering outside to hail. There would be no immediate help coming to rescue her.
They headed for the roadway that would lead them back the way she’d come. Just before they turned onto the dirt road, while the driver was busy managing the team, Shannon spotted a man leaning against a tree watching their departure. She poked her head outside the backflap and waved vigorously in his direction, and although she felt certain he’d seen the frantic gesture, he threw the stub of his cigar butt on the ground, crushed it under his heel, and walked away—far too calmly to cast any ray of hope within her.
Back inside the house, Walter pulled his mother off to the side, out of earshot of the women that surrounded her.
“Have you seen Shannon lately?”
“I believe she slipped out some time ago. I understand she knows no one here and I have been a poor hostess leaving her to fend for herself.”
“Shannon does not expect you to cater to her needs, today of all days.”
“She does seem like a nice woman. I hope you will stay on for a few days and allow us to get acquainted.”
“There is the hospital, Mother,” Walter said, and for once cursed his self-inflicted obligation to running the organization with the sole efficiency he demanded of himself.
“You need to share the load if you are to have any future at all.” She stroked his arm affectionately. “You are all I have left and I want to see more of you.”
“You shall, Mother, I promise. Shannon’s presence has made me reevaluate my goals. I love her and hope someday she will be my wife.”
“In the midst of such sorrow, that is indeed, good news, son.” She pushed him off. “Now go find her and don’t let her out of your sight until she says yes to your proposal. You are going to propose, aren’t you?”
Walter did not explain to his excited mother how his first attempt had failed miserably, but instead, smiled and said, “I shall put the question to her as soon as this time of mourning has ended.”
“That’s my boy.” She stood on her tippy-toes and kissed Walter’s cheek. “Now, off with you. And see if the help has begun the work at the graveside. I should like to visit my daughter later.”
As Walter opened the front door, he ran headlong into one of the guests and managed to sidestep a collision. He offered his hand, “Simon, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, I am the new attorney for the family. My father passed on last month and I have taken over his accounts.”
“Good luck,” Walter said as his eyes looked beyond him and scanned the area.
�
��Looking for someone?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. The woman I was with earlier. Have you seen her on the grounds?”
“Right—I was taking a quiet moment by the tree on the far side of the laneway, and now that you mention it, I recall where I’d seen her—with you. The woman was in the back of a wagon fleeing the place as fast as the horses would take them.”
“A woman—you saw my woman riding in a wagon, leaving the estate?” Walter pressed him to continue, his voice rising in fear.
“At first I thought her behavior rather hysterical but then assumed she was simply waving. I’m afraid lawyers read bedlam into every situation and I am trying to react to oddities in a saner approach like my father did.”
“Get to the point. Was it Shannon Tyre whom you saw in the back of a wagon?” Walter’s voice edged on irritation at the man’s calm demeanor.
“It may have been. She did bear a strong resemblance—I assure you sir; I am not in the habit of staring at another man’s woman until her face is engraved entirely to memory.”
Walter did not wait another minute. He raced to the barn and sure enough, the wagon they’d brought from Maple Grove was gone. If Shannon were in the back, who was driving? He started to race toward the family graveyard, but halted upon encountering two of his father’s hired men. One carried Shannon’s hat and Walter grabbed it from him.
“Where did you get this?”
“On the ground inside the hole where the missing casket is supposed to go.”
“Missing—what’s missing?”
“The box Anna was laid to rest in is gone and we found this hat at the site. Do you know who it belongs to?”
“Yes, and the wagon from the hospital is also missing. Someone has stolen the body and kidnapped Shannon.”
“Body snatchers?” one of the workers looked doubtful.
A Nurse for Walter Page 9
