A Love So True

by Melissa Jagears

  Nicholas slipped his arm around his wife and caressed his daughter’s sleeping head. “Maybe you could find a place at church?”

  Evelyn looked at the ceiling, trying to remember if there was a room that wasn’t being used. “I could ask, but I’m pretty sure there are no empty rooms. Though maybe we could put a trunk in the room where the moral society meets.”

  “You do realize you’ll likely get dresses too fancy for the jobs these women would get.” Nicholas settled back against his seat. “They’d need work dresses, which aren’t the kind to be handed down, but rather worn until they’re ready for the rag bag.”

  Evelyn scowled. “I still think the idea has some merit.” She truly did like Nicholas, but the way he logically took the wind out of people’s sails was quite annoying.

  Lydia sighed, likely thinking the same thing, and then yawned again. “What did you come in here for, dear?”

  He pressed a kiss to his wife’s temple. “Just to see you.” He put a hand to her rounded abdomen. “And to say hi to the rest.”

  Lydia’s belly had been a fascinating distraction while they’d talked earlier. It had jolted and jiggled without rhyme or reason.

  Nicholas leaned to press a kiss to her stomach. “Hello in there.”

  Evelyn froze, wondering if Nicholas had forgotten she was in the room.

  Lydia squirmed as if she couldn’t get comfortable. “Why won’t you tell me if you think it’s a boy or girl?”

  He lifted his head and gave Evelyn a side glance before sitting up straight.

  So he had forgotten she was there.

  He cleared his throat. “As I recall, you were quite annoyed that I was right about Isabelle, so I’m keeping my guess to myself.”

  Lydia’s mouth puckered, and she squinted an eye. “But once the baby’s born, you could claim you knew all along.”

  “To be honest, I don’t have any idea this time.”

  Lydia’s eyes widened in shock, as if that was an abnormal admission.

  “All I know is that I’ll love them.”

  Lydia’s face paled. “Them?”

  Nicholas threw her a grin.

  “You’re just trying to make me squirm.”

  “You wanted to know.”

  “But I can’t have two!”

  Evelyn held in her giggle over how Lydia acted as if twins would be the end of the world.

  Nicholas brushed his fingers through his daughter’s curls as he looked into his wife’s eyes. “You’ve gotten large quite quickly, and your pregnancy symptoms are twice as bad as last time.”

  Lydia shook her head slowly, her heavy eyelids fighting to stay open. “Several ladies said they got bigger with each child, and every pregnancy is different.”

  “You wanted to know my guess, love.” He kissed her temple. “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you in a few hours.” He disentangled himself, stood, and nodded at Evelyn before leaving.

  Though Nicholas’s footsteps had faded to nothing, Lydia remained still on the couch, eyes closed.

  She’d known her friend was tired, but falling asleep so quickly was surprising. Evelyn gathered her things as quietly as possible. It was time to get back to the orphanage anyway.

  Lydia took in a big gulp of air and opened her eyes wide. “I just can’t have twins—one’s tiring enough!”

  “You’ll be fine, Lydia. And Nicholas isn’t right about everything.”

  “Oh, but I was so sure the last time it was a boy, and I was wrong.”

  “Lyd, your husband’s rich. All you have to do is ask him to hire you a houseful of maids to help you take care of your brood and he will.”

  Lydia blew out a breath and resituated Isabelle on her shoulder. “I don’t want to do that, but she’s exhausting enough.” Her eyes drifted closed again.

  Earlier when Isabelle had fallen asleep, Evelyn had asked Lydia if she ought to nap with her daughter, but she’d insisted she’d rather visit.

  She should’ve listened to her instinct and told Lydia she’d return another time. “Well, I do have to get going.”

  Lydia’s eyes fluttered open. “I’m glad you dropped by, even if we didn’t get very far in figuring out how to implement your idea.”

  “That’s all right. Maybe when we bring it up at the moral-society meeting, the ladies will have a solution.” Evelyn picked up her basket. “Now I’ll let you sleep.”

  No answer came from Lydia, and a quick glance confirmed her friend’s heavy eyelids had won the war.

  Evelyn quietly pulled the door shut behind her. As she treaded softly toward the front, Sadie’s gauzy-capped, dark blond head poked out of the morning room’s double doors. “Miss Wisely, may I speak with you?” She padded out of the room, clasping her hands tightly in front of her.

  “Of course.” Had Sadie been waiting for her this entire time?

  “Is the Thacker boy still at the orphanage?”

  “Yes.” Lawrence had been withdrawing into himself even more lately, sitting alone near the front-door window most every day, as if his sister might come strolling by but wouldn’t stop unless he was waiting. Daddy had been trying to give him lots of attention, but the boy wasn’t responding as they’d hoped.

  “It’s about his sister.”

  Evelyn clamped onto Sadie’s wrist. “What do you know?” Please, God, let it be something good.

  But considering the way Sadie worried her lip, Evelyn’s heart wasn’t beating with hope.

  “Do you know a Miss Rosie Cheeks?”

  How she hated the prostitutes’ pseudonyms, highlighting their physical assets instead of who they were. “Yes, I do.” Rosie was a cottage girl who made Evelyn’s insides ache. She was her age, with a two-year-old girl she guarded like a she-bear. Rosie was the nicest prostitute Evelyn had met so far, though she had little education and was a bit off-kilter. “Have you talked to Rosie? Sadie, you shouldn’t go anywhere near that area of town. If anyone finds out—”

  She held up her hand and looked around with wide eyes. “I know. I wasn’t there. But the man who lives to our east has a butler Franklin’s age. They like to talk, and when I’m taking out trash, sometimes I overhear them. You know how the subject of the red-light district gets Franklin riled, and considering if he ever found out what I was . . . Well, I’m ashamed to say I took my time emptying buckets so I could listen.” Sadie’s shoulders sagged. “Anyway, it seems Rosie is a favorite of the master next door.”

  Evelyn had caught glimpses of the plumbing store owner in the district a few times, so she knew he wasn’t the most upright of men. But she could’ve done without knowing who he “liked.”

  “Between Franklin’s usual rants about ladies of the night, I caught that Mr. Tomberlin was put out with Rosie for not taking customers at the moment. He sent his butler to find out why. Seems she’s tending a young woman with a newborn. His description of the girl makes me think it might be Lawrence’s sister.”

  “You’ve seen Annette before?”

  Sadie nodded. “Once when I took a batch of peanut brittle to the orphanage. The butler said the young woman had huge freckles and wild curly hair.”

  Those were indeed Annette’s most telling features. But Annette hadn’t been prostituting herself out and had claimed she would never do so.

  Had that been a lie?

  Evelyn tugged her gloves on. She couldn’t go home until she found out. And here she was, once again leaving her parents alone to watch the orphanage longer than she’d promised. Soon they’d stop letting her go visit anyone, lest she never return. “Could you send someone to the orphanage to tell my parents I’ll be late?”

  “I could have Pearl do that.”

  “If Mr. or Mrs. Lowe get upset that she left her post, tell them it’s my fault.” At Sadie’s nod, Evelyn went out of doors, hoping Nicholas had walked instead of taking his driver.

  Indeed he had. In the quaint little carriage house out back, Mr. Parker was currying one of the horses. Nicholas had yet to buy an automobile, likely becau
se Mr. Parker wasn’t interested in learning to drive one. Nicholas seemed to enjoy walking and likely didn’t want to let go of Mr. Parker since he needed a flexible job to care for his wife with dementia.

  “I’m so glad you’re here, Mr. Parker.”

  He turned with a smile, his white hair in desperate need of a trim. “Miss Wisely, what can I do for you?”

  “Could you take me to the row of shacks behind the Wet Whistle?”

  His smile instantly died. “It’s been a long time since a lady asked me to drive her to the red-light district, and after that harrowing night, I’m not keen on doing so again.”

  “I bet that was Mrs. Lowe.”

  “Yes.” He absentmindedly rotated the brush in his hands.

  “And nothing bad happened to her, right?”

  He pointed the brush handle at her as if he were staring down a wayward child. “Luck was what that was.”

  “I only need to check on someone. I’ll do it alone, if I must.”

  The man rubbed his forehead and moved toward the carriage. “Today’s young ladies don’t have a lick of sense.”

  Evelyn couldn’t help but smile at being called young. “On the contrary, Mr. Parker, that’s why we ask for your escort.”

  He groaned and stomped off. “Give me a minute.”

  Evelyn stood aside as Mr. Parker readied the carriage while mumbling under his breath. Thankfully, he chose something enclosed. If Annette could be convinced to leave her hiding place, she’d likely need to leave without being seen.

  Though if there was a baby involved, was there any hope Annette could visit her brother at the mansion without causing trouble with the staff?

  21

  Evelyn braced herself as the carriage bumped to a stop on the rutted road in the most dismal section of the red-light district. Evelyn tried to open the carriage door, but Mr. Parker stopped her.

  “I’ll go knock, miss. Tell me what you’re wanting to know.”

  She pushed open the door anyway and descended onto the packed-dirt street. “I’ve no need to sit in the carriage. I’ve been to this section of town to nurse bruised and battered women before.”

  Nicholas’s driver frowned at her, his brow wrinkling. He stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

  “All right.” She patted his arm and pointed to the middle shack. “I’ll be right there.”

  Mr. Parker looked at his timepiece and shook his head. “I should have realized how late it was before I agreed to bring you here. I’m going with you.”

  She wouldn’t fight him. He was right—it wasn’t the best time of day to visit. She forged across the littered road, but at the door of the tiny shack, she hesitated. She’d never before come without being summoned. Glancing behind her, she made certain Mr. Parker was nearby. His expression did nothing to help her find any extra courage. She made a fist and knocked anyway.

  No answer.

  She knocked louder.

  “No one’s here, or they ain’t wanting company.” Mr. Parker grabbed her sleeve. “Let’s go.”

  “I’ll check the windows first.”

  “What?”

  Before Mr. Parker could stop her, she scurried over to the grimy window and peered in, hands cupped against the glass. She might see something she might wish to unsee, but if Annette was in there with a baby . . . Well, no fifteen-year-old mother should be left unattended anywhere near The Line.

  No one inside.

  No sounds either.

  “What are you doing here?” The roughened voice of Old Hattie Williams scared Evelyn upright.

  The only prostitute she knew who didn’t use a fake name shook her finger at her as she came swaggering over. Of course, Old Hattie wasn’t truly that old—maybe late forties, at most—but she was older than most of the women who worked the nights. “We don’t need your holier-than-thou presence here.” Her dark piercing eyes and pointed nose pinned Evelyn to the spot.

  “Let’s go, miss.” Mr. Parker threaded his arm through hers and pulled her toward the carriage.

  She resisted being dragged. “I’m looking for Annette Thacker. Can you tell me where she is?”

  “You’re wanting one of the Annies?”

  “No.” At least she sure hoped Annette hadn’t become the fifth prostitute named Annie who worked in Teaville. “Annette Thacker, fifteen, not a prostitute.”

  Old Hattie threw back her head and laughed. “If you’re not wanting a prostitute, you’re looking in the wrong place.”

  “Where’s Rosie Cheeks, then?”

  “Beats me.”

  “Miss!” a voice hissed from somewhere behind her.

  Evelyn turned, trying to find the hushed yet insistent voice.

  A girl of about seven dashed out. “Miss Rosie went to live at the blue shack near the cemetery last Thursday.”

  She squatted in front of the little blond girl with the most matted hair she’d ever seen. Her flour-sack dress was beyond pitiful. “I’m Miss Wisely. Who do you belong to?” Please, God, let her say her mother.

  “You’re the lady who feeds kids on Saturday near the glass factory, right?”

  “Yes, in the empty lot with the spindly oak tree in the middle.” She held out her hand, hoping the girl would come closer, but the girl only stared at her open palm. “Would you like to eat with us next Saturday?”

  No answer.

  “What’s your name?”

  The girl stared at her for a few seconds. “Lisa, and I’ll think about it.” With a quick pivot, Lisa rushed back toward the dying weeds surrounding the shacks.

  “Wait.” Evelyn stood, but Lisa was already gone.

  “I take it we aren’t going home until you check the blue shack.” Mr. Parker’s voice sounded resigned.

  Old Hattie shook her head, her pursed lips and cold eyes unnerving. “You’re a fool to meddle in our business.”

  Evelyn held out her hands to Hattie as she had to Lisa. “What if you needed help?”

  “I’d get it myself.”

  She let her hands fall back to her sides. “If you change your mind, feel free to talk to me.”

  The streetwalker only glared at her before stomping off in the direction from which she’d come.

  On the way to the cemetery, Evelyn stared out the carriage window, hoping there was another blue shack by the graveyard she’d forgotten about. The one she knew of was not fit to step foot in, let alone live in.

  Mr. Parker slowed as they approached the small ramshackle building that teetered on the edge of oblivion. The roof was a patchwork of broken trusses with scraps of shingles hanging on for dear life, the siding owed its color to the few curls of blue paint that had yet to flake off, and all the windows had been busted by many a grade-school boy on a dare.

  Near the back side of the cabin, a dark-blond woman about-faced and rushed through the waist-high weeds surrounding the structure.

  Though the coach hadn’t stopped yet, Evelyn turned the handle and opened the door. “Rosie!”

  The blonde kept hustling for the backyard, the face of her two-year-old girl looking over her shoulder at Evelyn.

  Rosie had never shied away from her before.

  “Miss Wisely!” Mr. Parker pulled his horse to a complete stop, but Evelyn had already stumbled out of the coach.

  She picked up her skirts and rushed into the grasses. “Rosie!”

  The woman abruptly slowed and turned to face her, her expression collected and warm. “Why, Miss Wisely, I didn’t expect to see you here. Did someone tell you I was sick?”

  Evelyn pulled up short and frowned at the woman’s almost welcoming tone. Though they’d talked about her daughter a few times and Rosie had helped her fetch a doctor for a woman once, the prostitute had never greeted her so brightly. Coupled with her running away seconds earlier, Evelyn knew something was wrong. “Why are you at this shack?”

  Rosie glanced at the nearby wall that slumped in near collapse. “Well, when a landlord h
as a prostitute for a tenant, he doesn’t think nothing about hiking rent and asking for it early. Knows you ain’t going to tell the police about it and figures you got nowhere to go. But I found me somewhere.”

  “This isn’t a place to keep a child.”

  “Neither was the last place I was at.”

  True, but at least a two-year-old wouldn’t be strong enough to push on a wall and collapse the roof onto herself at the old place. “I was told—”

  The faint mewl of a newborn was quickly dampened.

  “What did I just hear?” Evelyn headed for the shack.

  “I didn’t hear anything.” Rosie scurried alongside her. “But since you’s here, could you take a look at my girl’s teeth? I think they’re ’bout to fall out, but what am I to do about it?”

  Evelyn looked back at Rosie’s girl but didn’t stop. The little one had her thumb in her mouth and looked content enough—whereas Rosie’s face was flushed and her eyes wide.

  Mr. Parker jogged up. “I think I heard a baby.”

  “It was just my Norah.”

  “That wasn’t a two-year-old’s cry, Rosie.” Evelyn shook her head at the woman’s dodging. “Where’s Annette?”

  “I don’t know an Annette.”

  Mr. Parker led the way to the door and struggled to open it since the door’s top hinge was loose and the bottom corner scraped into the dirt floor.

  In the corner of a room not fit for rats, Annette was slumped over a pile of blankets wadded on her lap.

  Evelyn rushed over and yanked the blankets off. “You’ll smother the baby.”

  “I was just trying to keep her quiet.” Annette’s voice was dull and lifeless. Her eyes were encircled with shadows, and her mouth was a grim line. The girl might have just had a baby, but considering how thin she was, she certainly hadn’t been eating enough to nourish herself, let alone a newborn.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Wisely. I didn’t know what her name was.” Rosie inched toward her, her voice contrite. “All I knew was she didn’t want anyone knowing where she was. I heard her screaming a few days ago, and I couldn’t just leave her. She didn’t know what was happening, but the baby came out all right. She’s insistin’ she’s staying here.”