Maude joined them on the front lawn as Mr. Chesnut brought lounge divans and cushions around from storage in case they had anyone who would need to recline on the porch after the ordeal.
Jack tapped Maude’s shoulder. “Dad says get Uncle Robert’s room ready.”
“He’s coming here?”
“He ain’t comin’ here, sis. Mr. König, that German guy who saved me, is.”
“What?” Her heart pounded against her ribs. “Why?”
“He got hurt rescuing Doc Cadotte’s daughter and granddaughter.”
Maude gasped. “They were on board?”
Jack scowled. “No, they just swam out there to look at the wreckage, you silly girl!”
Bea whacked Jack on the arm. “That isn’t funny.”
“Neither is Mr. König being hurt again, but he’s real bad off this time.”
All the air seemed to have been sucked from Maude’s lungs.
“He’ll be all right.” Jack slapped her back so hard, she thought he’d rammed her corset boning into her rib cage. “But you two best go get the room ready.”
“When will he arrive?”
“All them folks are all right because of our men saving ’em. So I think they’re gonna tend to Mr. König and bring him over soon.”
Within twenty minutes, Bea, Jane, and Maude had tidied the room and put fresh sheets on the bed. Jack’s distinctive footsteps pounded up the stairs.
“Stan, Dad, and Friedrich are here now.” He stood in the doorway, panting.
Maude sank onto the bed. Her breath caught in her throat. With the excitement, her breathing had become difficult. But she had to calm herself. In. Out. In. Out. She willed her breathing to slow.
“You all right, Muddie?”
“Maude!” Her cousin Stan’s voice carried up the stairs. “We’re gonna bring Friedrich up.”
Mr. Roof, their handyman, held Mr. König up on one side while the other arm was draped around Stan.
Maude’s heart raced. “He’s so pale.” She quickly pulled the bedcovers back.
Friedrich groaned.
“He’s also mighty big.” Stan and Mr. Roof turned and positioned the injured man so he could sit on the bed.
Maude pressed back against the wall. How was she going to put her feelings aside and help him recover?
“We’ll get him situated, daughter. François will reexamine Mr. König in the morning.”
Chapter Fourteen
The Lord’s Day. Gott sei Dank. He’d survived and rescued the mother and baby. Something wet trickled down his cheek. The door to the room opened.
“How are you doing today?” Maude leaned over him, the scent of rosewater and soap carrying with her.
“Fine.” He turned his head to the side to wipe the moisture from his cheek.
“Let me fluff your pillow.”
Ben groaned as he leaned forward, and she quickly puffed up and rearranged his pillow. When he rested his head again, she pressed a cool hand to his forehead.
“You’re a little warm.”
With her in the room, ja, he was getting a little warmer.
If he wasn’t in so much pain, Ben would be thrilled to be in this position—lying in a comfortable bed under the same roof as Maude. She’d sat beside his bed most of the night, despite her father’s admonition that she get some sleep.
Jack ducked his head in the doorway. “Doc is here.”
“Good.” Maude squeezed Ben’s hand. “He’ll take good care of you. I imagine he’s worn out after checking on everyone injured or who’d swallowed water yesterday.”
Staccato footsteps brushed up the steps. Dr. Cadotte entered the room, placing his bag on a nearby empty plant stand. “Reinjured, I hear, but I cannot fuss at you, Mr. König. God bless you for saving my daughter and granddaughter. I can never repay you for your kindness.”
“We all were eager to help. Glad to do so.”
Cadotte grasped Ben’s hands in his own and pulled. “Let’s get you up.”
The pain, while still present, had calmed. Was he so seriously affected that he required continued care in the Wellings’ home?
“I think I will be fine, Doctor.”
But this could be his chance to find out what was going on in the Welling household. Perhaps if he stayed he could help Maude.
“Nonsense. Let me check you.”
He’d not lie. Perhaps he might emphasize his pain. But when Cadotte began jabbing at his ribs, Friedrich yelped. No feigning anything there.
“Maude, help me get his shirt off.”
He’d slept in Peter Welling’s nightshirt when they’d been unable to find pajamas that were long enough for him.
“Me?” Her voice squeaked.
“I made your father lie back down—his heart is out of rhythm again.”
Ben noticed a look of concern cross her face, but then she tilted her chin up as if fighting off fears.
“What happened last night?” she asked. “Do they know?”
“Two ships didn’t see each other. The foghorn sounded, but it wasn’t enough warning.”
“I’m so glad no one perished, but were there many serious injuries?”
“Thank God, Dr. DuBlanc from the Grand came to help and Aunt Virgie rode down with her herbs and remedies. She was especially useful when it came to treating the children who’d swallowed a great deal of water.”
“Oh my.”
“And Rev. and Mrs. McWithey put up a dozen families at the church last night. The island ladies are feeding them this morning. There will be a short service and prayers, but the pastor felt the best thing parishioners could do today was to help these folks get settled into their lodgings and to try to bring whatever can be spared for those who’ve lost almost everything.”
“That sounds like our logical pastor.” A faint smile flickered on Maude’s beautiful lips. “Father sent word last night to the dray drivers, asking them to work today, and they agreed.”
“Yes, and all the shop owners save one have opened for those who need to purchase goods.
“It could have been so much worse,” the doctor added. “There could have been much loss of life had the men hesitated at all. Your father ran that group like a drill sergeant with the army. Brought back my memories of all those soldiers up there at the fort.”
“And Father overdid it?”
“Of course. You know him.”
Cadotte squeezed Ben’s shoulder. “Can we get you up? We need to make you more comfortable, and I’m going to need to re-tape your ribs.”
Maude and the doctor helped him stand up, but then Ben released their hands. He tried to unbutton the sleep shirt, but any movement brought searing pain.
“Help me get that off,” the doctor ordered.
Her cheeks bloomed pink. “But he’s wearing no pants.”
Cadotte rolled his eyes. “If he had them on, you’d take those off, too.”
From her horrified expression, Ben wondered if she’d never seen a man bare-chested, much less in his birthday suit. “I have sleeping shorts on, Miss Welling.”
When Maude hesitated, François glared at her. “Cadotte women do their duty. Duty over modesty, my dear. Don’t forget that.”
Had she ever in her life forgotten this maxim? She and her uncle began to disrobe Friedrich. She tried to be careful as she unbuttoned the front of his shirt. When she glanced up at his face, he was observing her from beneath heavily lidded eyes. Her heart skipped a beat.
When they’d gotten him down to Father’s undershirt, which strained against his back, she hesitated, mesmerized by the dark tufts of hair that covered his broad chest at the base of his neck. François lifted from the back and she pulled up in the front, blushing deeply when she saw that his entire muscular chest, down to his trim waist, was covered with thick dark hair. She felt like covering her face and running from the room.
“Stay while I examine him, Maude.”
She swallowed as he quickly poked and prodded Friedrich, turning away when he cried out.
> Finally he stopped. “You’ve reinjured your ribs. I’d like you to rest here for another day or so, eh?”
“Ja.”
Friedrich’s pallor concerned her. “Can you leave something for the pain?”
François gestured to the bed. “Let’s get him back to bed, and then I’ll give you some laudanum.”
After they got Friedrich settled and covered up, François went to his medical case and pulled out a corked glass bottle. “I’ll need for you to give this to him and then sit with him for a while.”
Maude repeated for him a mandate she’d received growing up: “Cadotte women don’t abandon their posts.”
“Exactly.” He gave her a half smile and winked as he left. “They’re practically perfect. Or are supposed to be, anyways.”
She exhaled a huff, but he laughed.
When her uncle finally left, Maude collapsed into the chair beside the bed. Tears threatened to spill over her cheeks. She was exhausted by dealing with this new and intriguing man’s injuries. And being forced into what felt like an intimate situation drained what was left of her emotional reserves. But she must be strong.
Friedrich reached for her hand. “Is there anything Cadotte women cannot do?”
Apparently Father didn’t believe Maude was capable of running the inn, but she bit her tongue. She forced a laugh as she wiped away a tear. “François sounded just like my grandmother and mother. He’s only repeating what he was brought up hearing.”
“This Sadie, is she a Cadotte, also?”
“No.” In some ways her friend was lucky that there had been no expectations of her.
Friedrich’s hand heated hers. She began to pull away, realizing how chapped her palms and fingers were. But he wouldn’t release her hand.
“The jig is up, as they say.” His blue-gray eyes searched hers. “I know you’re a maid at the Grand, as does Captain Swaine, and it won’t be long before Mrs. Fox hears.”
His thumb traced a circle over her palm, which had the effect of unnerving her further. He smiled but then flinched.
Maude pulled free and stood over him. “Are you all right?”
Sweat trickled down his brow. “Ja.” He closed his eyes and leaned back on the embroidered pillowcase.
She stroked his forehead, covered with streaks of soot. She needed to get him cleaned up. “I’m so sorry you were reinjured.”
He pressed his eyes shut tight. “I’ll be all right.”
“I pray you will be.”
“Ja, pray for me like I pray for you.”
He prayed for her? She couldn’t help smiling.
She glanced around Uncle Robert’s room, with its collection of mariner-related objects. Tiny bottled ships lined several shelves. An old wooden captain’s wheel mounted on the wall had pegs hammered into it so Robert could hang his hats. Somehow she pictured Mr. König’s own bedroom in Detroit as large, with a collection of books and art. “I know this isn’t the Grand Hotel, but we’ll try to make you comfortable here.”
“I am most comfortable in this bed—especially with the feather ticking on top.” A grin tugged at his finely formed lips. “How long has this inn belonged to your family?”
“This was my grandmother Swaine’s inn and my great-grandmother Cadotte’s before her, so several generations now.” But no more, if Father has his say.
“And you obviously love it.”
“Yes, I do…. I always thought I’d be in charge here one day.” But her efforts at the Grand to prove herself may have been for naught.
“Why not now? Has something happened?”
She puffed out a breath of air as she sat back down. “I was supposed to marry my childhood sweetheart, and we’d run the inn together. But he married someone else.”
“I’m sorry. No—that is not honest, I’m not sorry.” His eyes lingered on her mouth. “But why should you not be able to run the inn? I’d think a father who allowed you to canoe unaccompanied at night wouldn’t be opposed to you running the inn.”
Should she tell him? With the laudanum her uncle had given him, he’d likely not remember in the morning, anyway. “My father believes he is protecting me. His mother died when he was a little older than Jack. He blamed hard work for his mother’s death. And now with my own mother gone …”
She sniffed back her tears.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to upset you.”
“It’s all right. Since my mother died, he’s been acting so odd. Now he’s saying that he’ll sell the inn—but both my mother and grandmother led me to believe I’d own the inn.” She bit her lip. Mother and Grandmother also said she and Jack would split the remaining businesses but that her father would assist until Jack came of age, unless Maude agreed to run them all. Now none of that seemed to be happening.
When Ben awoke, Maude was gone, and he had a new visitor.
Mr. Welling lowered himself into the wooden chair adjacent to the bed, setting his arms squarely on the armrests. “Thank you for helping.”
Ben attempted to lift his head but then allowed it to flop back onto the rose-scented pillow.
Was his boss sending more work O’Halloran’s way? He knew how things worked. Someone was gone and another journalist tried to take their place, jockeying for a new position.
“Well, I’ve been running a number of businesses on this island for some time.” Mr. Welling stroked his jaw.
“I see.” He didn’t.
“And it’s been thankless work.” The man harrumphed.
His journalist’s mind urged him to focus. “What types of businesses?”
Welling settled back into the chair. “Drays—hauling, carriage rentals, and a few other businesses that my wife and I … managed.”
“Many.” Not just this inn.
The man rubbed his eyes. Ben’s vision was too blurred to tell if he might be crying.
“I worked hard for all these years, and now I see Robert Swaine coming in to take all that away from me.”
Must stay awake. “How so?”
“If Maude had married, it wouldn’t have been an issue, but now …”
“Maude is lovely.” The words slipped past his lips before he could restrain them.
“I think so.” Welling pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this, Mr. König, but for some reason I trust you.”
“Danke.” He trusted a man lying to him. This was wrong.
“I wish my wife was here so I could talk with her.” Welling blew his nose. He was weeping.
“I am sorry.” Morpheus was pulling Ben down further into a quilt-covered sleep.
“I have to think there was something she could have done about the codicils her mother placed upon her will.”
“A legal matter?” Ben’s mouth felt stuffed with cotton.
“It’s more than that—my mother-in-law as well as my wife convinced my daughter that she should remain on this island. I fear it is becoming like a prison for my son. He must leave to obtain further training and I intend to accompany …”
Sleep overtook him as Welling’s words faded out.
Chapter Fifteen
Another day, another disaster. The other maids commandeered their carts down the hallway, but Maude lingered behind. She sunk onto the low upholstered bench behind the door in the linen room. Empty. Thank God. She wiped her wet cheeks with the back of her hands.
The scent of fresh linens and starch surrounded her, reminding her of wash days with her mother in the winter—when the two of them would fold and put away sheets and blankets in the linen closet. Mother—I miss you so much.
A sharp rap at the door caused Maude to flinch. Mrs. Fox entered and locked the door.
“Listen, I know something isn’t quite right.”
Maude sniffed, and Mrs. Fox handed her a square of cotton cloth to use as a handkerchief.
“Young lady, you don’t belong at the Grand.” The older woman settled beside her on the bench.
Fresh tears welled in Ma
ude’s eyes. “I know, but I’m learning.”
“You can’t keep up with the other girls, which they’re starting to notice.”
“I’ll try harder.”
“Very good.” Mrs. Fox stood, unlocked the door, and left.
The rest of the morning passed in a blur, but Maude had finished all of her rooms on time.
Sadie wheeled her cart down the corridor toward Maude. “Miss Ada wants to see you in her office.”
“Thank you.” Swallowing, Maude pushed her trolley against the wall.
Compassion softened Sadie’s lovely features. “She said pronto.”
Panic built in Maude’s chest, tightening her lungs. Was she being fired? She prayed as she pushed her work gloves into her pocket and then set off.
She entered the parlor outside the chief housekeeper’s office and tapped on the open door.
“Come in, dear.”
Dear?
Only Mrs. Luce called her dear. Maude missed the sweet lady—she should go visit her. She hadn’t seen the infirm woman at recent church events. Without the Wellings carrying her to and fro, Greyson must not have reassumed his responsibility to bring her to services.
“You needn’t bother with Mr. König’s room today—he’s staying elsewhere for a day or two.” Behind those silver frames, Mrs. Fox’s eyes steadily searched hers. “I hear he was quite the hero, during the ship rescues.”
Maude smoothed out her apron and averted her gaze.
“Also, you’ve been reassigned to the front parlors.”
Hadn’t she been satisfactory in the rooms?
The housekeeping manager tapped a pencil on a diagram of the hotel’s layout. “We’ve had complaints that the front parlor and the smoking rooms aren’t being cleaned properly.”
The sensation of tightly knit yarn wound round her lungs began to unravel, and Maude breathed more easily. “Those rooms are the most important. First impressions count.”
Mrs. Fox’s smile grew broader. “I knew you’d understand.”
Maude shifted her weight. “When do I make the move?”
“Now.”
Today?
Maude stopped herself from opening her mouth to protest. The black Ansonia mantel clock on her supervisor’s desk read half past ten. “Did Merry do the early morning cleaning?”
My Heart Belongs on Mackinac Island Page 12
