A Free Heart

by Amelia C. Adams

  “Thank you, Tom. What a nice thing to say.” She looked out across the vast expanse of land to their right. If she turned around, she’d see bustling commerce, shops and tradesmen, the beginnings of a real city. Before her lay the rough, raw potential for more, the empty expanse of nothing and yet everything. She used to think it ugly. Now she wondered what she and Adam would make of this opportunity that had been given to them. “What do you think of Miss Markham?” she asked.

  Tom looked surprised at the question. “Are you asking me as your friend, or as an employee of the hotel, or . . .”

  “Just be honest. Don’t worry about social conventions.”

  He pulled off his hat and scratched his neck. “She reminds me of a chestnut stallion I once helped train. She’s even got the same glossy brown hair and eyes. But that horse had a stubborn streak a mile wide, and he was tinged with meanness. You could only get so close before you’d get kicked, and if you did manage to take a seat, you’d get bucked not ten seconds later. Miss Markham is pretty to look at, but I wouldn’t trust her.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “I had some experience with that myself a little while ago. I’m hoping that we’ve reached an understanding now.”

  Tom looked concerned. “Are you all right?”

  “Oh, I’m fine. I’m tough, Tom—it takes a lot to hurt me.”

  He nodded. “You are tough, one of the toughest. If I had to bet between the two of you, I have no doubt who’d come out on top.”

  “Well, you might as well get that wager placed. I have no intention of losing.”

  * * *

  The first train came in, and the meal was served. After the dishes were washed and the dining room set up for the next meal, Elizabeth climbed the stairs to the second floor, a tray in her hands. She set it down on the small table just outside Miss Markham’s door and knocked. There was no answer.

  “Miss Markham, it’s Elizabeth. May I come in?”

  She heard a rustling sound from the other side of the door, and then a faint, “You may.”

  Elizabeth opened the door and then turned to pick up the tray. She carried it in and placed it on the low table by the upholstered chair near the window. Then she turned to see Miss Markham sitting on the edge of her bed, her eyes red, a handkerchief crumpled in her hand.

  “I noticed you didn’t join us in the dining room, so I brought you some food,” Elizabeth said, motioning toward the tray. “I’m sorry it’s nothing fancy, but it’s delicious.”

  “You’re very kind, Miss Caldwell. Much kinder than I would be in your place.”

  Elizabeth didn’t wait to be asked. She took a seat on the chair and faced Miss Markham. “Can I help? You look distressed.”

  Miss Markham laughed, a sound full of derision. “Distressed? You might say that. I don’t know if you can help, Miss Caldwell. I don’t know if anyone can.”

  “Please, call me Elizabeth. And you have to admit, Miss Markham is quite a mouthful. I’d much rather call you Olivia.”

  Olivia nodded. Then she pulled in a long, ragged breath. “The truth is, Adam doesn’t want me. He never has, and he’s told me so over and over again. I figured I could change his mind, make him see that marrying me would be the best thing he could do. I have connections. I’m well known. Doors would be open to him, he’d be successful in anything he chose to do, and yet he continuously said no. Do you know why that is?”

  Elizabeth could have hazarded any number of guesses, but she sensed that Olivia needed to talk, so she held her tongue.

  “It’s because that romantic fool would rather marry for love than for money or position. He’d rather be happy than rich. And he’s the one who had the right of it this whole time—what would we have had together? A very polite union.” She wiped her eyes. “But with Vivian? They had something wonderful, something that made me jealous. Maybe that’s why I tried so hard to steal him—maybe I thought he could feel that way about me, but I know love’s not that fickle.”

  Elizabeth remained silent, surprised that Olivia was opening up to her like this. She’d expected her to go flouncing off to Adam after their little altercation in the hall. It appeared that she’d misjudged this woman, at least in part.

  “The truth is, Elizabeth, I can’t go back to New York. Well, I could, but not home. My father found out I was coming here, and he told me that if I went after Adam, I could never return.”

  Elizabeth gasped. “No! Why did he say that?”

  Olivia pressed her lips together. “He says I’m a spoiled, pampered child who needs to learn what it means to be told no. He blames my mother for my behavior, and he’s right. He’s utterly right, and I’ve been sitting here all this time wallowing in his rightness.” She wiped her eyes again. “I owe you an apology, Elizabeth. I came here thinking I could bend Adam to my will. Several months out here on the very edge of the world should have convinced him to give me another look—or at least, that’s what I thought. But you’ve put that sparkle back in his eyes, the one he lost when Vivian died, and I was a fool to think I could ever put it there.”

  “Do you love Adam?” Elizabeth asked, her voice soft.

  “I’m not sure I know what love is.” Olivia looked at her handkerchief, grimaced, and pulled another one from her reticule. “But whether or not I am, I promise, I’m done trying to interfere. He’s happy, and I should be happy for him.”

  “Thank you, Olivia. I very much appreciate that. And I hope that your decision brings you some peace.” Elizabeth thought for a moment, her brain spinning. She knew what it was like to have nowhere to go, and she wouldn’t wish those feelings on anyone—even a woman who had tried to destroy her happiness. “What will you do now?”

  “I honestly don’t know.” Olivia waved her hand at the corner of her room, where all her trunks were stacked. Elizabeth counted six from where she sat. “I brought everything I own with me because I was so sure I’d be marrying Adam. And now it seems that all I have are trunks of dresses and worthless frippery. I don’t like what I see when I examine myself, Elizabeth. That’s why I do it so rarely.”

  “I don’t know if this suggestion appeals to you at all, but Adam has been looking to hire two more girls,” Elizabeth said slowly. “Do you have any housekeeping skills?”

  Olivia threw her head back and laughed. “I’m easily the least skilled person you could ever meet. I’ve never even made a bed.”

  “Are you willing to learn?”

  Olivia stood and walked over to the window. She pulled back the sheer covering and looked outside. Elizabeth knew what she was seeing—a town as different from New York as a cowboy from a banker. “I could learn,” she said at last. “I can’t promise that I’d be any good at it, but I’m willing to try.”

  “That’s wonderful. I’ll go talk to Adam about it right now.” Elizabeth stood, but then paused. “You said I was very kind.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “Allow me to be unkind for a moment. I’ve extended my friendship, and I’ll speak to Adam about hiring you. But you must always be aware around me, and if I find that you have done anything to try to ruin my wedding or my marriage, you will truly be without a place to go.”

  Olivia nodded. “I understand, and I would expect nothing less.”

  Elizabeth returned the nod and then left the room. Perhaps she was making a mistake by taking Olivia in. Time alone would tell.

  Chapter Six

  Harriet stood next to Agatha and Elizabeth in the kitchen, flour up to her wrists. Agatha had agreed to teach the girls how to make her delicious cakes, and Mr. Brody was minding a sleeping Rose. He’d carried her cradle down to his office, and said he could do his accounting while she napped. Harriet smiled—every baby should have a father so attentive.

  They were supposed to be discussing the proper way to make cakes, but Elizabeth had been telling them about her conversation with Miss Markham, and Harriet couldn’t possibly concentrate on both at the same time. “You offered her a job?” she said, incredulous. “After ever
ything she said to you?”

  “I didn’t offer her a job—I’m not the owner of the hotel. But I did speak to Adam, and he agreed that we could try her out. Miss Hampton will train her, and we’ll see how it goes.” Elizabeth sifted flour into her bowl as she spoke, making far less of a mess than Harriet had a moment before.

  “I would have chased her off the property with her hair on fire.” Harriet finally took up her spoon and began to stir. “How long do you suppose she’ll last?”

  “I have no way of knowing. On one hand, I’m grateful for more help around here, but on the other, she may be more trouble than she’s worth.”

  Agatha handed the girls the two cake pans she’d pulled down from a shelf. “Butter and flour these, and then pour the batter in. Harriet, you’ll need to give yours several more stirs before it’s ready.”

  Harriet looked into her bowl. Large lumps clung to the sides, not appetizing at all. She stirred twice as fast. “Do you think she’ll keep her word about not trying to ruin the wedding?”

  “There’s one thing you can depend on,” Elizabeth said as she wiped her pan with butter. “She may try whatever she likes, but she will not be successful. Adam and I are meant to be together, and if that means locking her in the linen closet until after the ceremony, so be it.”

  Agatha chuckled. “I would hate to be the person who got in my daughter’s way.”

  Harriet looked at her batter again. It seemed smoother, but what did she know? She’d never made a cake in her life. “Does this look right?”

  “Much better,” Agatha replied. “Grease and flour your pan, and let’s get these in the oven.”

  Agatha showed the girls how to test for temperature. Well, she showed Harriet—Elizabeth seemed to know all this already, and was just pretending to sit in on the lesson so Harriet wouldn’t feel bad. That was all right. Harriet knew she had a lot to learn and was grateful for the chance. Maybe now she would start to feel more independent.

  “From what you’ve said, Olivia and I have a lot in common,” Harriet said as she took off her apron and hung it on a peg on the wall. “We both left our homes impetuously and are trying to make it in the world on our own.”

  “Do you think you’ll ever go back to Atlanta?” Elizabeth asked.

  “I don’t think I’d be unwelcome if I did. That’s one way in which I’m very glad Olivia and I aren’t alike. But I can’t make that decision right now. Instead, I keep thinking about that letter.”

  “It did stir up some memories and emotions for you,” Elizabeth commented. They walked outside and leaned on the railing that surrounded the porch. A cool breeze was blowing for once, and Harriet closed her eyes.

  “I’d really like to go find Jane. I talked to Tom White, and he says Salina’s just over a hundred miles from here.”

  Elizabeth didn’t answer immediately. Harriet opened her eyes and glanced over at her friend. “What are your thoughts? Should I go?”

  Elizabeth gazed thoughtfully across the landscape. “I think you’d always regret it if you didn’t,” she said at last. “You came all the way here from Atlanta—what’s another hundred miles?”

  Harriet had expected to feel peace when she made this decision, but instead, her stomach tangled up in knots. “Do you think Jane blames me for Sam’s death? It’s true, you know. If he hadn’t come back for me, he’d still be alive.”

  “Hush.” Elizabeth squeezed her arm. “You can’t think like that. Because of you, he died happy, and how many men have that chance? Can you really stop life and death? Are you that powerful?”

  “No, I’m not.” Harriet took in another deep breath. “But will Jane see it that way?”

  “I don’t know Jane, of course, but you’ve said you were great friends. And she must be a wonderful woman to raise someone like Sam. Was his father still living on the plantation?”

  “He was sold when I was about seven.” Harriet shook her head, the unfairness burning in her chest. “I was told that he’d gone to live somewhere else—I didn’t understand that he was being bought and sold like a piece of livestock. He used to bring me branches of flowering peach blossoms, and I’d put them in my bedroom. It made my mother so angry because the petals would drop all over the floor, but I loved them. Then one day, he wasn’t there, and my father said he’d gone to live somewhere else.”

  “Without Jane and Sam?” Elizabeth sounded shocked.

  “Slaves weren’t legally allowed to get married, so in the eyes of the law, they weren’t a real family. They had no rights, and there was certainly no reason to allow them to stay together.” Harriet took a deep breath, trying to fight back the bitter tone that had entered her voice. “Anyway, I believe you were asking if Sam had a strong father figure in his life. He did, until his father was sold. Then the other workers on the plantation stepped in where they could, but I would definitely give Jane the credit for the man Sam became.”

  “Then I believe she’ll hear what you have to say. You should go.”

  Harriet laid her head on Elizabeth’s shoulder. “Thank you. I know you’re right—how could I come this far without seeing it through?” Then a thought struck her, and she raised her eyes to look into Elizabeth’s. “Do you think Mr. Brody will give me the time off?”

  “I can’t speak for him, but I believe he will,” Elizabeth said. “He’s a good, kind man, Harriet. Just tell him what you’ve told me.”

  Harriet took a deep breath. “All right. I will. If you promise he won’t eat me for breakfast tomorrow.”

  “I helped make the menu this week, and I’m quite sure there’s no Harriet planned for the morning.”

  * * *

  After that afternoon’s meal had been served, Harriet helped clean up in the dining room, then walked down the hall to Mr. Brody’s office. He always disappeared for a few minutes after each meal service to tally up the food purchased and add everything into his ledger. He jokingly said it was the only way he’d remember to get it done.

  Hoping he was done and that she wasn’t interrupting him, she raised a hand and knocked.

  “Come in,” he called out.

  She opened the door and peeked inside. He still held a pen in his hand, but he laid it down and gestured for her to take a seat. “What can I do for you, Miss Martin?”

  “I’m sorry for troubling you, Mr. Brody. Are you finished?”

  “It can wait. I detest arithmetic, and don’t mind the chance to put it off for a while.” He leaned back and looked at her expectantly.

  “I don’t know how much Elizabeth has told you about my situation,” Harriet began.

  “She hasn’t said a thing to me. If you told her in confidence, you can rest assured that confidence was kept.”

  In a way, that was a relief, but it would have been a bit easier if he already knew a little about the situation. “I know you’re busy, so I’ll spare you every last detail. I will tell you, though, that I was once engaged to be married, and my fiancé was killed tragically. I’ve just learned that his mother lives about a hundred miles from here, and I wondered if I might get some time off to go visit her.”

  “How much time do you think you’ll need?”

  Harriet looked down at her hands, where they were twisted in her lap. “I don’t know, sir. If she’ll see me, I’d like to stay and visit a bit. But she may spin me around and put me right back on the train. I wouldn’t blame her at all if that’s what she did.” She glanced back up. “I understand if you need to tell me no. We’re understaffed, and business is starting to pick up.”

  Mr. Brody nodded. “We are getting busier. But Olivia Markham has just joined us on a trial basis, and I believe we’d be all right without you for a short time. We will, of course, have fewer fiery outbursts around here, which we will miss, but we’ll just look forward to your homecoming even more.”

  Harriet’s lips twitched. “Thank you, Mr. Brody.”

  He picked up his pen again. “Oh, and take Tom up on his offer to go with you.”

  “What?�
�� She quirked an eyebrow. “How did you know he offered?”

  “Elizabeth didn’t say anything to me, but Tom did,” Mr. Brody said. He looked up at her and smiled. “He pled your case, I’ll have you know. He went on for a good ten minutes about why you should be allowed to go.”

  “You knew the whole time? Why didn’t you tell me?” Harriet was torn between amusement and indignation.

  “I wanted you to say only what you felt comfortable saying. I do have one request—wait to leave until after the wedding. Monday would be a good day.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of missing the wedding. Thank you, Mr. Brody.” Harriet stood up, feeling remarkably lighter. Now she just had one more person to corner.

  * * *

  There was only an hour to go before the next train was due to pull in to the station. Harriet knew that Tom would most likely be working on the roof, so she headed there first. Sure enough, there he was, pulling off the last few shingles and throwing them on the ground.

  She walked up to the base of the ladder, not sure at all how to start this conversation. To say that she felt awkward wouldn’t even begin to do it justice. “Mr. White?” she said softly. Maybe if she didn’t raise her voice, he wouldn’t be able to hear her, and she could pretend that she’d tried.

  He looked down. “Oh, hello, Miss Martin. It’s not time for the train yet, is it?”

  “No, we’ve got some time yet. I . . . I wondered if I could talk to you.”

  “Sure. I’ll be right down.” He swung his legs onto the ladder and began his descent. Harriet watched him, wondering what she could possibly say to make this better.

  Tom hopped off the ladder at the bottom and removed his hat. “Here I am. What am I to be scolded for today?” His tone was light, but his words made her feel even more guilty.

  She took a deep breath. “I understand you spoke with Mr. Brody on my behalf.”