A Love So True

by Melissa Jagears

  Evelyn scanned the mansion’s windows, looking for smoke, listening for wailing, but nothing was alarming. She pushed the carriage as fast as it could go. “What is it, Miss Mulpepper?”

  “Your father—he’s collapsed,” she hollered.

  “What?” Evelyn stopped in her tracks, but her mother fled up the hill like a spry chick.

  “Mr. Lowe sent me to find Mr. Parker. We need a doctor right quick!”

  Evelyn found her legs again and rushed after her mother. “Is he alive?”

  “Yes.” But the way Miss Mulpepper’s voice ended with a questioning intonation, there was little doubt she thought his state might be temporary.

  Momma ran in calling Daddy’s name, a terribly sad crack in her voice.

  Miss Mulpepper chewed on her lip and looked between her and the carriage house.

  “Go help my mother.” Finally under the portico, Evelyn grabbed Hope out of the carriage. “I’ll get Mr. Parker.” Careful not to go so fast that she would trip while holding the baby, she strode as quickly as possible toward the stables.

  She’d just claimed she was too busy to be moral-society president, but how could she run a women’s home and orphanage if Daddy wasn’t around?

  Oh, God, don’t take him away. I don’t know what we’d do without him.

  26

  David pulled in under the mansion’s huge two-story portico and hopped down from the seat of his factory’s little buggy. He brushed the dust off his slacks and blinked the grit from his eyes. He was completely unpresentable, but then, he hadn’t been invited to the orphanage either, he’d just . . . come.

  This past week, he hadn’t been able to think of a reason to visit that wouldn’t look like he was coming just to see Evelyn—which he was. Figuring out how to court a woman without being obvious was quite the challenge.

  But then he’d remembered her mentioning it was important for the orphans to have good male role models.

  She certainly wouldn’t be suspicious if he came to throw a ball with Max, Robert, or Scott, tickle Ezekiel, or swing Alex until she was dizzy. Maybe he wouldn’t even talk to Evelyn much. If she had feelings for him, and he planted himself nearby, maybe she’d feel just as antsy to be closer as he did.

  He strode toward the door and used the reflection in the fancy Tiffany glass insets to fix his hair with finger combing. The shouts of children sounded from out back. He knocked on the door halfheartedly, but after half a minute he headed off to the backyard. He didn’t need a servant’s formal welcome anyway.

  The high-pitched whine of one particular young voice grew, coupled with the escalated screaming he’d heard from the baby the last time he’d been here. Surely someone needed help, so he sped up. And yet the sound of laughter and children calling out to one another belied there was anything immensely wrong.

  Around the corner, a line of children walked atop one of the garden’s short stone walls, and a group chased each other near the mansion. In the middle of it all, Evelyn was crouched down beside a boy of perhaps six, pinching his nose while tipping his head back, with a toddler girl wrapped up in her skirts.

  But where was the baby? He looked around for the adult who was failing to comfort the infant but saw no one. The closer he got, the louder the cry, but Evelyn clearly didn’t have her, and with all the children’s noise, he was having difficulty pinpointing any specific sound within the chaos. “How’s it going?” he called out.

  She turned to him, and her shoulders slumped in a sigh, though he sure didn’t hear it amid all the crying and hollering. Ah, there the baby was, in the grass on Evelyn’s other side, arms and legs waving furiously.

  “Not good, I’m afraid.” Evelyn turned her attention back on the blond boy and pushed his head back up. “Truly, Lawrence, if you don’t keep your head up, you’re going to be bleeding all day.”

  “Sorry.” He tilted his head down, and Evelyn tilted it back up.

  Another boy came whizzing past, and David pulled up short to keep from getting run over.

  The chaser was more considerate and swerved behind him.

  David bypassed Evelyn and picked up the tiny baby, amazed at how rigid her body was. He tried to bounce her as he’d watched Evelyn do the other day, but she only screamed louder.

  “Miss Wisely! Peter pulled my hair.” A young girl with red braids ran over and burst into tears.

  Somehow Evelyn got an arm around the redhead while keeping her fingers pinched on a wriggling Lawrence. “Calm down, Vera. I can’t have two screamers at once.”

  The girl only sobbed more, though the cry sounded more whiney than hurt. “He’s always pulling my hair. I don’t like him at all.”

  “Stop crying, darling.” She brought the girl’s head down onto her shoulder with a one-armed hug. “That’ll only egg him on.”

  Vera whipped her head off Evelyn’s shoulder, her fists bunched up beside her. “But you never stop him! And he only gets meaner.”

  Evelyn tried to catch Vera’s arm before she fled but missed. The defeated look Evelyn threw David was absolutely heartbreaking.

  He tried bouncing the baby faster, but he’d never been so well acquainted with the word inconsolable before. “You can’t solve all their problems, you know.”

  He obviously couldn’t solve this baby’s problem.

  “I can’t even solve my own.” Her voice was barely audible above the din as she let go of the boy’s nose but wasn’t happy with what she saw and reattached herself. She tried to rise while keeping a grip on the boy’s nose as he stood as well, but the toddler girl was standing on her dress. Graceful was not the word for Evelyn trying to right herself and keep hold of Lawrence’s nose. “Let’s get some ice, otherwise I might be holding your nose all day.”

  David followed after her as she shuffle-stepped toward the mansion. “Who can I give this baby to?”

  She held out her arm, and the lines of fatigue creasing her forehead were identical to the ones she’d sported while caring for Scott. “I’ll take her.”

  She might have a free arm, but she was dragging one child and steering another.

  He bounced the screamer a little faster. “It’s all right. I’ve got her.”

  Surprisingly, Evelyn didn’t protest, just lowered her arm and kept marching Lawrence up the hill.

  David tried to switch the baby so she could see over his shoulder, but she only screamed louder. “Where’s your mother? If I give her the baby, I could get the ice.”

  “The Lowes have a walk-in icebox in the northwest corner of the basement, but you’ll either have to take the baby with you or hand her to me. Unless we can find a maid who isn’t busy.”

  “Why not your mother?”

  “She’s at the old parsonage with Daddy.” She looked over at him, and he was struck by the vulnerability he saw there. When had she ever allowed him to see that many emotions play across her face?

  “He—” Her voice cracked. “Daddy had an apoplectic fit. He’s still alive, but he’s a bit confused. His left arm and leg are sluggish, and he’s not getting around all that well. The doctor gave us strict orders to keep him from noise and activity until he’s improved. Says he should recover . . . mostly.”

  “I’m so sorry.” David rested a hand on her shoulder, and she crossed her free arm over her chest to put her hand atop his. Her simple act of reaching out to him made his heart lift despite the news. “I wish you’d sent me a message. I could’ve helped.”

  She shrugged, dropped her hand, and moved Lawrence through the door to the conservatory. “I don’t know who I could’ve sent. It’s been total chaos here.”

  “Who’s helping you?”

  “The staff.”

  “I mean with the children.” He raised his voice over the baby’s top-of-the-lung cry.

  She looked at him again, the droop of her eyelids obvious. “Just me and the staff.”

  He looked back at the children still running around outside. “Who’s watching them?”

  “I was.”
<
br />   “Scott!” he hollered. The baby startled and surprisingly quit crying.

  The twelve-year-old looked up from where he was building a corral of sticks for Alex to house her two carved ponies.

  “You’re in charge. Keep things running smoothly out here while we go take care of Lawrence.”

  Scott stood up and jogged over, his face still mottled with scarring but his eyes bright with good health. He stopped in front of David and shook his head. “Maybe you should get Max. Some of them won’t listen to me.”

  He chucked up Scott’s chin. “Just keep them out of danger, all right?”

  Scott nodded, and David hurried in after Evelyn.

  Though Hope was only sniffling now, her little body was so rigid he was afraid she’d burst into an ear-piercing scream any minute. He dared to turn her around to get a better grip on her, bracing himself for her complaint, but Hope latched onto his thumb with a vengeance, her tongue tickling. “Do you think the baby’s hungry?”

  Evelyn had already made it down the foyer steps with both children still attached. “Of course she’s hungry.” Her voice echoed through the massive entrance. “When is she not?”

  “Then where is her nurse?”

  “Late again. Hey, sweetie, can you open the door for us?”

  The little girl untangled herself from Evelyn’s skirts and reached up as far as her arms would go to grab the handle of a door he’d never noticed, considering how well it blended into the wall. How did Evelyn expect such a short kid to open that door for them?

  “It’s almost dinnertime,” a voice called behind him.

  Caroline stood on the top of the entryway’s little staircase, her apron wrinkled and wet, but she wore a rare smile.

  The little girl let go of the door she’d opened, and Evelyn grabbed it before it shut.

  The little sprite ran past him toward Caroline.

  He turned to see the girl raise her arms up toward the housekeeper.

  “Oh no, Miss Emily. You might get Miss Wisely to carry you, but you’ll just hold my hand. All right?”

  Emily must have been all right, because she grabbed onto her fingers, her chubby, stocking-covered legs marching beside Caroline toward the kitchen.

  David turned to see that he and Hope had been deserted. He crossed over to the hidden door and ducked into the dark staircase.

  The baby’s shudders were clumping together, like clouds coalescing before a storm. He held her out and jiggled her, hoping to stop the tempest from coming, but it didn’t work. Her little mouth turned into the largest frown he’d ever seen, and her screaming reverberated off the stone stairwell.

  One thing was certain—no one could accidentally misplace this child.

  “Down here, David. Mrs. Dewitt’s just arrived. She’ll take the baby.”

  “Oh thank you, sweet Jesus!” Carefully navigating down the dark steps, he kept his big hands clamped around her but held her away from his ears, hoping to save his hearing.

  He’d expected a plump matronly woman to meet him at the bottom of the stairs, but the woman waiting was likely in her late twenties, with a round face and very curly blond hair pretending to be swept up into something elegant, but failing miserably. “I hope you can help her.”

  “I’ll try my best, sir.” She held out her arms but didn’t smile. Not that he could imagine many people smiling if they were handed this bundle.

  She disappeared down one hallway, and Evelyn was halfway down another, steering Lawrence forward quickly now that she wasn’t dragging an anchor.

  He started after her. “I haven’t seen Emily before. Is she new?”

  Evelyn called over her shoulder. “Yes, but she’s not staying. Emily’s mother is . . . in bad shape. Not a sight for a three-year-old, so Caroline brought her home until her mother can take her back.”

  He ached to tell her they shouldn’t send her back at all, but that wasn’t his place.

  She disappeared into a doorway on the left.

  She probably didn’t need his help anymore, but he wasn’t going to leave without making an attempt to talk to her without a handful of children crying around them. Not with the news about her father and the sleepless nights etched across her face.

  Playing and talking with the boys was not anywhere near as important as making sure she was all right.

  But how could she possibly be all right? He might not have ever known his mother, but the fact that he’d never met her overwhelmed him with sadness occasionally. He couldn’t imagine how he’d feel if she’d died after loving him for more than twenty years—he’d always imagined his mother would have loved him more than Father.

  He was just about to turn into the room where Evelyn had disappeared, when Lawrence ran out and smacked into him.

  “Whoa there.” He clasped onto the child to keep him upright.

  The boy looked up at him. “I stopped bleeding already.” And then he slipped out of David’s grip and ran off.

  Evelyn didn’t appear.

  He strode the last few steps and looked into the doorway on his left.

  She stood in the middle of the dark room. Her shoulders were slumped, her head down, and her hands pressed together in front of her as if she were awaiting her turn to kneel before the guillotine.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m tired, is what I am.” She let out a long sigh, and her shoulders drooped even more. “Lawrence stopped bleeding, so I best get outside.”

  He wedged himself in the doorway in case she, too, thought about darting past him. “You do know that asking for help isn’t a sign of weakness?”

  “I know.” But she didn’t even look at him, just continued staring at the floor between her feet.

  He stepped into the dungeon-like room and came over to put his arm around her. “Please tell me what you need.”

  Her mouth trembled and her eyes started blinking exaggeratedly. “I just need my daddy.”

  “Oh, honey.”

  Her face was tense, her lips pressed tight.

  He could almost feel the fountain of tears she was repressing. “It’s all right to cry.”

  “I already have.”

  How like her to only let loose her tears if they affected no one but her. “After everyone’s asleep, I bet. But, Evelyn, you don’t have to cry alone.”

  Without warning, she turned into him, wrapped her arms around his chest, and sobbed into his neck.

  He put one arm around her back and reached up to rest a hand against her hair, pressing their heads together. He heard himself shushing her but stopped. He didn’t want her to cry alone, he wanted her to be in his arms, each and every time her life fell apart.

  Her sobs escalated to the point she was nearly hyperventilating. Maybe if he made her answer some questions, she’d be forced to breathe. “When does the doctor think your father can come back?”

  “Never,” she squeaked between sobs.

  He smoothed her hair away from where it tickled his face, then pressed his cheek against hers. “But he’s going to get better, right?”

  He felt her shrug in his arms, her tears slowly abating. How long until she realized where she was and pulled away? He held her tighter.

  “The doctor says he thinks he’ll get better.” Her voice was muffled against his ear. “But that doesn’t mean he will.”

  Her tears returned, and he gave up trying to distract her and just held her instead.

  Her father had mentioned she hid her emotions from her own family, so David wasn’t about to stifle them. He’d count every single tear dampening his shirt an honor.

  After another minute or so, she stilled. She’d pull away soon, so he closed his eyes and held her just tight enough to let her know he cared.

  After a few more sniffs, she did indeed pull away.

  He kept his hand on her arm as she stepped back until it slipped down and caught her fingers. She didn’t take her hand from his, but she did look away while swiping tears with her free hand.

  He kept
a good grip on her. “I know I can’t fix your father, but what else can I do for you?”

  “I’ve already wasted enough of your time.”

  Thankfully she seemed just as content to keep her hand in his as he was to hold it. “How have you wasted any of my time?”

  “The women’s home.”

  “I fail to understand.”

  “I won’t be able to help manage it, and who else besides me is going to do so?” She looked at him with eyes glossy with sorrow. “I have to save all my energy for this place now. Even if you volunteered to come here every day after work, there’s still all the other hours I have to work alone. And if I can’t keep on top of things, I won’t be here much longer—that’s for certain.”

  “The Lowes aren’t going to fire you because you can’t run an entire household and care for a full house of orphans by yourself.”

  “No, but I’ll be replaced.”

  Why would she think Nicholas would do such a thing? Certainly he would see how impossible it was to run this place singlehandedly and get her some help, not fire her. But as she stood holding onto his hand alone in the dark basement, every part of her body drooping in weariness, she likely wasn’t thinking clearly. Though her father wasn’t dead, there was plenty to grieve and worry about. “How long ago did your father leave?”

  “Three days ago.” She sniffed.

  And she’d likely only slept a handful of hours in that time. “What about that young lady who was here when we came back from Mr. Hargrove’s? If you tell me where she lives, I can ask if she has time to help you.”

  “Mercy knows already.” Evelyn rubbed her brow. “She came yesterday for a few hours, but she’s got obligations most every afternoon.”

  With his hand tightly clamped around hers, he pulled Evelyn toward the door. “Are you hungry?”

  She shuffle-stepped behind him. “Not really.”

  “Then let’s get you upstairs so you can nap.”

  “I can’t do that.” She pulled away from him.

  He didn’t let her go. “Yes, you can.”

  “I can’t leave the children alone.”

  “If you can watch them by yourself, then so can I.” He walked a step but halted. “The wet nurse will keep the baby for a while, right?”