Promise Me Tomorrow

by Lori Wick

  “Have you been there, Quin?” Rusty tried to keep things light for him.

  “No. Aunt Rusty, what will we eat?”

  “What are you hungry for?”

  Quintin only looked at her.

  “Not sure?” she pressed him.

  He shook his head no, and Rusty let it drop. Thinking he might not be hungry for lunch just yet, she considered that they might look around town first. She said as much to Chase.

  “Whatever you want to do is fine. There’s a small livery near the hotel,” he directed her. “When we get near that block, we’ll stop and leave the horses there.”

  Rusty stared up at his profile for a moment, but his look gave nothing away. It never occurred to her how it might feel to have Chase McCandles coldly angry with her. She was learning swiftly that she didn’t like it at all. They made the rest of the journey in silence.

  Once in town, Rusty swiftly saw the livery and directed the pony to the open double doors. She had never personally left an animal at the livery, but she’d watched others do it and hoped it would be as easy as it seemed and not too costly. Unaware that Chase had already handed Shelby’s reins to the young man who approached, she was surprised when he was almost instantly at her side, his hand coming out to help her alight. He reached for Quintin the moment Rusty was on the ground, and the little boy moved away from the horse and toward his companion as soon as his father set him down. Chase stepped over to have a word with the stableboy, and a moment later they started down the street. Rusty wasn’t given time to take care of any of it.

  As they walked along she tried to be calm, but it wasn’t working. The day was going to be ruined if she didn’t find out what was bothering him. Very aware of Quintin’s small hand within her own, she kept her voice light as she addressed his father.

  “Is everything all right, Mr. McCandles?”

  “Yes,” he said without hesitation, but Rusty was not convinced.

  “You’re going to think me fanciful,” she tried again, her voice calm and even, “but I almost had the impression that you’d gotten word from my family and needed to find me.”

  For the first time Chase really looked at her. Her face was pale, and her eyes were sober and vulnerable. He came to a stop, and she naturally stopped with him.

  “I’ve had no word from your family or bad news of any kind. I’m sorry you were frightened about that. I might have overreacted by coming after you,” he began hesitantly, his eyes going down to Quintin at one point. “But I was concerned when I saw you in the trap. Ponies can be unpredictable.”

  “I thought you were angry,” Rusty said softly.

  “No,” Chase assured her truthfully. “It was not my intention to ruin your outing, but I must admit that I never dreamed you’d drive into town on your own.”

  Rusty nodded. She could explain all of her reasons to him, but now was not the time.

  “Will you be home this evening, sir—possibly reading in the drawing room?”

  “That is my plan,” he said, his eyes saying more than his words.

  Rusty smiled at him as if he’d just suggested an outing. She looked down at Quintin, who had been staring up at both of them the whole time.

  “Well, now, Quin, what sounds good to you? Shall we eat or do a little shopping?”

  “I’m hungry.”

  “Very well. Was it the Antlers Hotel, Mr. McCandles?”

  “Yes, they have wonderful food. Shall I show you?” he offered.

  “Please.”

  They weren’t far from the front door of the hotel, and with Chase accompanying them, they were almost immediately seated in the dining room. As a waiter brought them menus, Rusty’s complete attention was on Quintin as she tried to help him decide.

  “Let’s see. They have chicken. Do you want chicken?”

  He stared at her as he’d been doing since she first mentioned eating out.

  “No? Okay, how about pork? Do you like pork, Quin?”

  Again he just looked at her.

  Rusty went back to the menu, read some more, and then turned again to Quintin. She was somewhat flummoxed when she saw that tears had gathered in his eyes.

  “Quin.” Her voice was soft and gentle, the menu put aside. “What is it, sweetheart?”

  He stared at her, tears welling just at his lids but not spilling.

  “Did Mrs. Harding never bring you here?” Rusty tried again.

  He shook his head no, still looking miserable.

  Chase watched all of this in silence but then spoke.

  “Tell me, Quintin, where did you eat lunch when you came to the reading room with Mrs. Harding?”

  Quintin began to get out of his chair, but Rusty stopped him with a hand to his arm.

  “You can tell your father from your seat, Quin.”

  He looked at her in misery.

  “We ate at Mrs. Reynolds’,” he said just before he broke down. “I don’t want to eat paper.” With that he began to cry in earnest.

  Rusty looked to her boss. “Is Mrs. Reynolds’ a business or a private home?”

  “A private home. She and Mrs. Harding are friends.”

  Understanding hit Rusty before it did Chase. She moved her chair close and put an arm around him.

  “It’s all right, Quin. He’s never eaten out before, has he, Mr. McCandles?”

  “I don’t know,” Chase admitted, and Rusty felt angry enough to shout at him. Just looking at her, Chase could tell she was upset with his answer, but she didn’t pursue the matter. Indeed, Rusty knew well that now was not the time. She turned her attention to the little boy in her arms.

  “It’s all right, love. Let me tell you how it works.”

  The waiter chose that moment to return. “Is everything all right, ma’am?”

  “Oh, thank you for asking. Do you have chocolate milk?”

  “Certainly, ma’am, or hot cocoa.”

  “I think the chocolate milk. I would also like you to bring the fried chicken with all the trimmings.”

  “For one, ma’am?”

  “For now, yes, thank you, but we’ll also want to see the dessert tray when we are finished.”

  “Certainly. And you, sir?” He turned to Chase.

  “I’ll order later as well.”

  “The first thing we must do,” Rusty spoke as soon as the waiter left their table, “is dry your face.” A soft white handkerchief came from up her sleeve, and just a minute later she had Quintin dry and somewhat calmer. “The next thing we must do is talk about eating in a restaurant.” She had cupped his small face in her equally small hands and made sure that he was looking directly at her.

  “We don’t eat paper, Quintin James McCandles,” she said with a kind smile. “The papers that are given to us are called menus, and we read them to see what foods the restaurant serves. Do you know what I ordered for you?”

  He shook his head no.

  “I ordered chicken and chocolate milk. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”

  “Yes.”

  “I think so too. I just might have the same. And when we’re all finished with our meal, we can have dessert!”

  He nodded, his breath coming with only a small shudder. Rusty smiled into his eyes and waited for him to smile in return.

  “Even though you can’t read, Quin,” she said next, reaching back toward her plate, “I want you to look at this menu. I’ll look over your shoulder and make certain I want to order the chicken, but you just study the words.”

  Rusty placed the large menu card in his hands and then bent so she could see it from his side. All the foods described sounded very tempting, but Rusty’s mind was only half on the words.

  You have no right to grow angry with him, Rusty. You knew the situation when you came. Grow up and stop being surprised by how little he knows about his son!

  With this little pep talk, Rusty sat back in her chair. In truth the chicken did sound good to her, and she was getting a headache trying to read the small, curly letters. She hoped the w
aiter would return soon so she could order a cup of coffee.

  “Are you still going to have the chicken?”

  Until that moment she had not been aware of Chase’s scrutiny.

  “Yes, I am. What did you decide?”

  I’ve decided that we need to talk about more than your coming into town today, but I don’t know how to go about it. Aloud he said, “I’m going with the chicken too.” He set his menu aside. “What plans did you have for after lunch? Are you shopping for something in particular?”

  “No, just a little browsing. My sister’s birthday is next month, but other than that I don’t have anything on my list.”

  “If Quintin needs something, I hope you’ll get it for him. I’m not sure if I told you, but Mrs. Harding saw to his clothing. I have accounts in most of the stores in town, so feel free to shop for whatever he needs. Also, if you find you need something for yourself because of the job, don’t hesitate to purchase it.”

  Rusty nodded, but in truth she didn’t have a clue as to what that might be. It was, however, the type of thing she was coming to expect. Chase McCandles was very good at seeing to everyone’s needs without having to get involved. He gave orders in the kindest, most gracious way, and everyone rushed to do his bidding. Rusty had never known anyone like him. His care of those who worked for him could not be faulted—she’d seen this before—but it was as if Quintin were invisible.

  It was a relief to have Quintin’s food arrive. Rusty was able to order her coffee, which took her mind from problems she could not solve. They ate and enjoyed their meal without incident. Afterward, they shopped as planned, and Chase saw them all the way back to Briarly. Anyone looking on would never have guessed at the storm clouds gathering in Rusty’s heart.

  Quintin’s companion knew she was growing more angry with her employer every day and that she must repent of her feelings, but it was not going smoothly. She was fighting God on this issue and spent the rest of the day giving the situation to Him. By the time she put Quintin to bed, she felt at peace. She was able to go to Briarly’s drawing room that evening ready to explain to Mr. McCandles why she had gone to town. She did so asking God to help her take any rebuke that might be coming and to remember: As much as she was treated like a family member, she was still an employee of the McCandles house.

  30

  “I was surprised that you would take the pony trap to town, Katherine.” Chase had wasted no time. He had asked Rusty how the remainder of the day had gone and then plunged right into the subject of that afternoon. He was not angry or upset, but he clearly wanted answers.

  “I wanted to do it for Quintin.”

  Chase still didn’t get it. “I’m not sure I understand. You didn’t seem to have any specific plans. Why did you need to go into town at all?”

  “To give Quintin an outing, and I’d have done so on my second day here if I’d realized he’d never eaten in a restaurant.”

  “But Whit could have taken you; you must realize that.”

  “Yes, I do, but Quin is terrified of the horses. I thought that if we started out with Dobbins, who he’s more comfortable with, we would have taken a positive first step toward seeing that he had nothing to fear.”

  It was just as Mrs. Whitley had told him. Rusty would never deliberately do anything to harm Quintin. He didn’t think her capable of this much forethought, but all of this had been completely planned out, and all for Quintin’s well-being. Without warning, however, he thought of her in the alley in Makepeace.

  “Tell me, Katherine, what would you have done if you’d encountered another group of young men? Had you even thought of that?”

  “I haven’t dwelt on the incident, but yes, I have thought it out. In the first place I would not have taken any short cuts and put myself in an alley, and if someone had tried something anyway, I would have shouted for a policeman. I wonder how bold those men would have been if the eyes of Makepeace had been on them. If something had happened today, I had decided to shout and cause a huge scene.”

  Chase now saw why she had insisted on coming alone on the train. She was determined not to let the past hold her down.

  “Were you not afraid at all?”

  “Maybe just a little,” she confessed, “but I’m trying to work with Quintin on his fears. What kind of hypocrite does it make me to tell Quin not to fear the horses when I won’t even go into town?”

  She had stumped him. He sat and stared at her, at a complete loss as to what to say.

  “May I ask you something, Mr. McCandles?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Did you object to our going to town, going in the pony trap, or both?”

  “My biggest fear was the pony trap. I was afraid that you or Quintin might be harmed if something startled that animal and you lost control.”

  “I won’t take it out again,” she told him immediately. “I can work with Quin around the animals and still leave them in their stalls.”

  “Why is it so important that Quintin be comfortable around the horses?”

  “Because it’s normal,” Rusty said before she thought.

  Chase blinked at her, and Rusty knew she would have to do some backtracking.

  “Normal?” His voice had gotten rather cool.

  Rusty knew there was a wise way to word this subject and an unwise way. She opted for the first.

  “Maybe ‘normal’ is the wrong word, Mr. McCandles. I’m sure it makes me sound arrogant, and I honestly don’t mean to be. The truth of the matter is, I grew up differently than Quintin is growing up.” There was so much Rusty wanted to say, but she stuck to the subject at hand. “I was around horses from the time I was very young, and although I was taught caution, I didn’t fear them. Horses, just like stairways and honeybees, are a part of our world. I don’t want Quintin to be afraid of any of those things—cautious when he needs to be, but not fearful.”

  There was so much more to Rusty Taggart than was first apparent. Chase thought he understood that, but now he saw that he’d missed some important elements. The main difference between Rusty and Mrs. Harding suddenly became very clear to him. Mrs. Harding had taught Quintin manners and all that could be learned through books. Rusty was trying to teach Quintin about life—honeybees and restaurants—the unavoidable aspects of living in this world.

  “I’ve prepared myself for any rebuke you feel I need, Mr. McCandles,” Rusty spoke when the silence lengthened, her heart trying to be thankful for whatever he might say. “If you think Quintin would do better with someone else, I’ll understand if you feel a need to dismiss me.”

  “No.” Chase’s head was shaking adamantly. “You’re not dismissed. That never occurred to me. I want you to stay on. I even think your using the pony trap is fine, just as long as you stay here at Briarly, and Whit or I know of your plans. I’m very pleased with the way you handle Quintin. Please rest assured on that count.”

  Rusty took him at his word. Her heart lifted with the knowledge that he was pleased with her performance. She’d spoken with more bravado than she felt. She would never have given him a word of argument if he’d dismissed her, but she would have missed Quintin like her own child.

  Watching her, Chase knew that this was the perfect time to ask her why she had been upset with him at the Antlers Hotel, but he couldn’t make himself do it. Things were at such a calm right now, and his heart felt light just knowing how much she wanted for Quintin and how far she was willing to go. As with the first night, he could see that she was ready to stand and bid him goodnight. And again, as the first night, something inside of him didn’t want that. He stopped her with a question.

  “Which sister has a birthday next month?”

  It was a remarkably simple question, but it did the trick. They talked of nothing in particular yet touched on everything for the next hour. When Rusty realized how late it was, she was very apologetic.

  “Look at the time!” Rusty came to her feet. “I’m so sorry. I’ve disrupted your entire evening.”

>   “Not at all. I enjoyed our talk.” Indeed, if he could have thought of some other way to hold her, he would have done so, but she was on her way up the stairs just a short time later. Chase Jefferson McCandles, a man very comfortable and accustomed to being on his own, wondered at his own train of thought. Maybe he was more lonely than he realized, but was that possible? How could a person be lonely and not know it? He thought the whole idea ludicrous, but he couldn’t quite dismiss it from his mind. He read for a time, but the question governed his thoughts for the rest of the evening. By bedtime he was even asking himself if it might be time to look for another wife. He was still wondering if the idea had merit when he finally drifted off to sleep.

  “Come on now,” Rusty urged her young charge. “Just pull it off your bed.”

  Quintin’s eyes were saucerlike, but he was doing as he was told.

  “Do I fold it?”

  “No, I’ve got my counterpane, and Mrs. Whit gave me two more blankets.”

  “Why do we need them?”

  “For our fort. You can’t build a fort without lots of blankets and bedspreads.”

  He looked completely at sea.

  “I’ll show you,” she said, but he didn’t reply, following her in silence as they moved into the upstairs hallway and toward the stairs, yards of cloth trailing in their wake.

  They were conquering one room at a time. As the days had passed, Rusty had been showing Quintin that his home was to be lived in, not worshiped. She hadn’t used those words, of course, but by her actions it was slowly dawning on him. He had always been at ease in the breakfast room and his own bedroom, but now he was coming and going into the library, touching books, and even leaving things a little out of order. The kitchen was also a place of comfort now, as right along with Rusty he “stole” cookies and asked for food between meals if he was hungry.

  They had made splendid headway in the bathroom, splashing the walls and getting suds on the floor, all of which they cleaned up before leaving. Quintin looked forward to bathtime as he never had before. They had even played hide-and-seek in the drawing room twice. In one way this game was the most helpful at teaching him to enjoy his home, since it always spilled over to the rest of the house. Today they were headed into the dining room.