Her Secret Shame

by Christine Sterling

  And she could see it herself, as she watched him from afar, wondering if he was as good as they say, or if he was simply too good to be true. And if he was as good as all that, would he ever be interested in her? There was nothing good about herself and she knew it. The shadow of her past, the depth of her mother’s betrayal, it followed her wherever she went. No matter how hard she tried to escape it. There was always someone who knew who she was and where she came from.

  Samantha folded the last of the sheets, setting it inside the basket with the others as Misty stripped the bed of its dressings. “It seems he has taken an interest in you.”

  Misty shook her head, trying to keep her own heart rate slow. “What would make you think that?”

  “The way he looks at you,” she said, giving her a knowing look. “I can tell when a man starts to have feelings. I saw that same look in Seth, in Tom, and now I see it in his eyes too.”

  Misty laughed. “I think it’s just wishful thinking on your part. Not everyone wants to be married, you know. I’m pretty content in my status now.”

  “But for how long?” Samantha asked, curiously. “Do you want to be like Clover?”

  Misty hadn’t thought about marriage, not since that night five years ago when she left everything behind and started her new life. She had decided long ago that she would devote her life to helping others and not think of her own. It was one of the reasons why taking the job for the O’Donnell house was so appealing. It was as if she could disappear behind another family. “I never considered it. I always thought marriage was not something for girls like me.”

  “Girls like you?” Samantha asked.

  From her tone, Misty knew she had misstepped. It would be a lie to say that Misty had never thought about marriage. A part of her had always fantasized about it, what her life would be like after she had married the man she was destined for. And there was even a time where she thought that there would be someone for her. But that chance was gone now, and she wasn’t about to go chasing dreams she knew weren’t meant for her. “For servant girls, like myself. I never thought I would have the opportunity.”

  Samantha smiled, walked over, and grasped Misty’s hand. “But you aren’t a servant girl, not anymore. You don’t have to live by your past. Here, in Black Hills, we are all afforded a fresh start. Look at myself, look at Elizabeth! We all had pasts, but here, we were able to start over. You just need to let yourself fall in love.”

  Misty looked into Samantha’s pleading eyes and sighed, “That is easy for you to say, but we are in separate places.”

  “I know I’m not a good example, as I was apprehensive too, but I really do believe that if you give it a try, John could give you a very nice future. And if you so choose, you can still work here in the hotel, if that is what you are worried about.”

  It wasn’t what she was worried about, as she withdrew her hands from Samantha’s. “I appreciate your concern, but I have no time to think about love and marriage, when I have so many chores to do.”

  Samantha looked as if she wanted to say more, but there was a cry of a baby in the next room. “Oh dear, it seems that Madeline is awake. I should help Elizabeth. With Tom away, I’ve wanted to help as much as I can before my own,” she added, holding her own belly. “I do like talking to you, Misty. We should see each other more.”

  Misty smiled. “I would like that very much,” she said, as she led Samantha to the door. She waved at her as Samantha exited into the room across the floor, before Misty closed the door behind her. She turned around and leaned against the closed door, thoroughly exhausted from their conversation. Although she wished her circumstances were different, she knew her fate was already decided long ago and nothing she could do now could change it.

  Chapter 3

  Misty, Fifteen

  Misty strained her hands as she dragged Mary through the streets. “Mary, hurry, or we are going to be late,” she said to her little sister. Mary made it a habit of looking through every single store front they encountered, even though none of them had changed from the last time they walked through town. It was as if she was trying on purpose to make them late.

  “But Misty, why must we hurry? I don’t want to have dinner with Mr. Carson.”

  For the past two years, every Thursday was a long-standing date that Mr. Carson would come to their house to eat dinner and then their mother would politely ask them to retire to their rooms while she chatted about business. Misty had always known their business discussions were carnal in nature, but she was starting to wonder if her ten-year-old sister was starting to suspect something was amiss.

  Misty also knew that Mr. Carson’s behavior towards her was alarming, and she tried to avoid him. He had started to make comments about Misty’s maturity and how she looked so much like her mother. It made her skin crawl and she wanted nothing more than to leave the table. She suspected that her mother was also noticing, so more and more the dinner time was starting to shorten, and they would be dismissed.

  As they walked down the street, towards the pharmacy, she could hear the whispers around her. She knew what the town said about her family, her mother especially. She was starting to build a reputation and Misty was starting to notice it was not just Mr. Carson that had been intimate with her mother. Whispers of “whore” circled around her, sticking like mud. She could shake the rumors, even though she knew they weren’t rumors. She just hoped Mary hadn’t heard any of it.

  Misty was already feeling the ramifications of her mother’s actions. All her friends had stopped calling around her house, no doubt because their mothers didn’t want their children associating with the “whore’s daughter.” Even when she went into town, the shopkeepers would give her dirty looks, reluctantly taking her money. It was why her mother didn’t leave the house mostly anymore, only taking house calls from her list of many gentlemen or a scary older woman that had cruel eyes and smelled of smoke and death that coordinated these evenings.

  One night, when the scary woman was over, Misty snuck downstairs to hear their conversation. She overheard about how her mother was one of the most popular ladies around, as everyone was clamoring to get a taste of her beauty. She was the prettiest and the youngest looking one. The madam had mentioned her daughters, to which her mother had adamantly dismissed, just as she had with Mr. Carson. Misty was thankful that at least in that aspect, their mother was doing what she could for them.

  In the past two years, besides the rumors, their lives had returned to order. They had money again, money they hadn’t had for a long time. Whatever debt their father had left seemed to have been repaid and now their mother was working for their livelihood. But for how much longer? Misty had thought. She couldn’t do this forever. Even if she was the most beautiful woman around, that beauty would fade, and then where would they be? Right back where they started, with nothing to show for it.

  Her mother was starting to become extravagant with her demands when she went shopping, asking for some of the most expensive perfumes or dresses. Misty obliged, but made sure to keep enough money for them to survive. She also gleaned a few dollars here and there to save up money to buy Mary a new doll, which she was holding on to that afternoon. She hoped her mother wouldn’t notice; she always remarked at how Mary should grow up and become a proper young lady. Misty just wanted her little sister to be little for just a bit longer.

  Finally, at the pharmacy, Misty pushed Mary in. There was a ding of the bell. Misty whispered in her sister’s ear. “If you are good, maybe I could ask Mr. Rogers if he has chocolate to sell.” Mary squealed in delight. “Now, just stand over to the side, this shouldn’t be too long.”

  She walked over to the counter, looking for the older Mr. Rogers. However, she was met by a young man, who looked no older than she was. When he turned around, Misty was struck by how handsome he was. He had messy brown hair, strands hanging over his forehead, with large hazel eyes and a small dimple in his cheek. He was smiling at her, with perfect, straight teeth. She was so tak
en aback by him she had completely missed he was talking to her until he repeated himself, asking if she caught what he had said.

  “No, I’m sorry, it seems that I have a bit of wind caught in my ear. What was that you had said?”

  “I was just asking, I’ve never seen you around here before. Did you just move in?”

  Misty smiled, giggling in the same way she had heard her old friends when they were interacting with a cute boy; in a way she herself had scolded them for. “No, I’ve lived here all my life, but I could say the same about you. I haven’t seen you before either.”

  He smiled wider, brushing his hair back so she could see a light scar on his forehead. “My grandfather owns the shop. I’m actually staying with him for the summer until I go back to school.”

  “Mr. Rogers is your grandfather? He’s probably the nicest man on this block.”

  He laughed. “Yes, I have heard that. My name is Ronald Rogers, but you can call me Randy.” He stretched out his hand for Misty, which she took. He had a strong, firm handshake and it sent electric shocks up her arm.

  “I’m Wilhelmina Fields, but I go by Misty.” Misty looked at him, waiting for the recognition. Certainly, he had heard of the whore’s daughter; there was only one Fields family in the city. But if he had heard of her surname, he hid it well, as there was no recognition in his face.

  “Misty, now that is an interesting name. If I dare say, a pretty name. But of course, you are a pretty girl.”

  Misty could feel herself blush. They both stared at each other for a few minutes, until Mary sidled up next to Misty, tugging on her dress. “Misty, I’m hungry. Can we go home now?”

  Misty knew if Mary was complaining to go home, she must be very hungry. She turned back to Randy. “This is my little sister, Mary. We actually came to pick up a few things,” she said, sliding over the list her mother had meticulously written for them.

  Randy took the list. “I’ll go ahead and pick these up for you,” he said, going to the back of the store.

  While he was gone, Mary leaned over and tugged at her skirt again. “Why is your face so red?”

  This made Misty blush even more. “My face is not red.”

  “Yes, it is. It looks like a tomato.”

  Misty took a huge breath, willing herself to not continue to fight with a ten-year-old. But before she could say anything more, Randy had come back, holding a small bag in his hands. “This should be it,” he said, rattling off the total as Misty took the bag and set it in her basket before taking out her money to pay Randy.

  “Well, we must be going. We have dinner plans with mother,” she said, before grabbing Mary’s hand and turning away.

  “I hope to see you again,” called Randy, to which she turned around. They both shared a smile before she went out, with Mary.

  As they were walking, Mary turned and shouted “Hey, what about my candy?”

  Misty ignored the little girl as she almost skipped down the street. She hadn’t felt that hopeful in a long time, thinking that there was a boy that might like her and might be the only boy in the whole city that didn’t know the shadow that everyone else did.

  Chapter 4

  The sun was beating down on Misty’s back as she pushed the shirt up and down the washboard. Sweat dripped down her forehead as she pushed it away with the back of her hand. She looked over at the overflowing basket of clothes she still had to wash, knowing that there were three more just like it. It was days like this where she wished she had the fancy washing machine Mr. O’Donnell had bought Samantha as a wedding gift when she married her first husband. Of course, it was still in Philadelphia and unfortunately, she was here in Black Hills.

  The day was unusually hot, being that it was in the fall. She hoped the days would get cooler, so the work would be easier. She already felt she was doing the work for all the maids in the hotel, but at least this work allowed her to be on her own, where she didn’t have to look to interact with the patrons, especially the ones that would get the wrong idea. She scrubbed the shirt back against the washboard a few more times before taking the shirt out to rinse in another nearby barrel. She heard a crunch of dirt near her, so she turned around and saw it was John standing behind her. He tipped his hat, as if to say hello.

  No matter how many times she had seen him, she could never get over how fast he made her heart race. He had such a powerful presence, making every person in the room stand at attention. She had been around men all her life who demanded respect and power, just by sheer existence. They were men, so therefore they thought they should have respect and women were there just to please them. But John had this presence of power that he didn’t need to earn. He just had it. It didn’t scare or intimidate Misty; John’s presence made her feel safe. That was a feeling she didn’t really have with men, especially in situations where she was alone.

  He walked closer to her, electricity filling the void between him. She hadn’t realized she was holding her breath until she felt lightheaded from the lack of air. “What are you doing here?” she asked, trying to go back to her task.

  John sidled up next to her, casting a large shadow over her. “I just wanted to see if you were alright. I heard there was a scuffle with another patron.”

  “Yes. It was a misunderstanding. Mr. Higgins took care of it. Regrettably,” she added.

  John stepped up closer to her. “I saw you crying, though. Are you sure you are alright?”

  Misty let out a frustrated sigh. Here he was, trying to be her savior, but she didn’t want or need to be saved. “Those tears were only for frustration. I wasn’t hurt.”

  “You can’t just have fights with gentlemen just because they look at you,” he said with a chuckle.

  Misty wanted to throw her wet clothes at him. She knew he was trying to make her feel better. Her fear surfaced that John was just another man who thought she was crazy. What she wanted to do was come clean to him, to tell him what was going on in the hotel under all their noses. But she knew she couldn’t say anything. She just gritted her teeth.

  “If this girl works half as well as Misty does, then I will be grateful,” Mr. Higgins said, as Samantha followed him down the hallway.

  “I have it on good authority she does,” Samantha said, clasping her hands together in triumph. “I’m so glad you could hire her. She’s not cut out for ranch life; otherwise, I would have hired her myself. She’s such a sweet girl.”

  “Where is the girl?” Mr. Higgins asked, as they entered the back kitchen.

  “She’s right here,” said Elizabeth Barrett, as she shuffled Mary to the center of the room. Mary was a young girl, no older than eighteen, as Elizabeth had explained to Samantha. She worked as a maid in the home where Elizabeth had been a governess. She had lost her job in Georgia and had traveled on the train to Black Hills to follow her friend and start a new life.

  Samantha had a soft spot for women in need, so when Elizabeth introduced the young girl with the piercing green eyes and jet-black hair, Samantha knew she had to help her in any way possible. Knowing the hotel could use some more help and because she was on good terms with the owner, she tried to give Mary a chance at a different life. The hotel would give her a place to stay and a steady income, until she found someone to settle down with.

  “I’m Mary,” said the girl timidly to Mr. Higgins.

  “And you are eighteen? You look like a little girl,” Mr. Higgins admonished, looking at the girl from head to toe.

  “I just appear young for my age,” Mary said sheepishly. “But I promise I will work hard. I won’t let you down.”

  “Well, I trust you will learn enough to get by. I’ll pair you up with my best maid.”

  The sound of arguing was coming from the back of the kitchen. Samantha looked over, knowing the voices all too well. She smiled. Although Misty could deny it through words, there was no denying their attraction. “I don't need you to come and save me all the time, John.”

  “Well, stop getting into fights!” the sheriff sa
id, his voice echoing through the room. Mr. Higgins coughed to alert them to the presence of company.

  “There is my best worker here! Misty, come and meet our new maid for the hotel!”

  Samantha thought Misty would be pleased to have the help, knowing she was working enough for three workers. But when she saw the shock on her face, Samantha didn’t know if she had done the right thing or not.

  Misty normally was not one for loss of words. It was a trait all her life she had been told was undesirable. People were always telling her to keep her opinions to herself, to watch her words before she spoke.

  But nothing could compare to this moment, as she felt she was staring into the past, present, and future all together. The last time she had seen her sister, Mary, was five years ago, when she had just turned thirteen and was starting to exchange her dolls for pretty cotillion dresses. She remembered tucking her sister into bed that night and telling her how much she loved her. She knew it was the last time she would be seeing her, though the outcome of that night was not as she had thought it would be.

  She never thought she would be seeing her again, but here they were, standing in the middle of the kitchen at the same hotel in the Midwest. There was no mistaking the striking black hair, just like her father’s, and the sparkling green eyes, a gift from her mother. Even before Mr. Higgins had introduced her as Mary, there was no mistaking it. She knew who she was.

  And Mary seemed to know as well, as her face fell from shock to anger in a little less than a few minutes. Everyone around them seemed oblivious to the atmosphere change, except for Samantha, who seemed concerned and John, who noticed the shift in Misty’s posture.

  Misty set the basket of clothes on the table, as John leaned over her. He looked like he wanted to ask if something was wrong, but Misty cast a look towards him, which he seemed to acknowledge as a sign to keep quiet.