Nervous energy coursed through my veins. I nearly hoed through the toe of my boot while I waited for him to finish stabling Merlin. When he stepped out of the barn, I motioned him over. “Can we talk?”
Abel looked oddly relieved. “I’m glad you asked.” He pointed to a path leading toward the apple orchard. “Why don’t we go for a walk?”
We moved slowly, the space between us feeling miles wide. The winding footpath across the yard carried us into a small circle of trees. Apple blossoms, long-fallen and brown-edged, crushed under our boots. I spied a small wooden swing, motionless on a low limb. Sinking onto its seat, I wrapped my hands around the timeworn ropes.
Abel leaned against the tree’s trunk, his face deep in shadows. “I need to tell you something,” he said again.
“I already know about Della.” There was iron in my voice.
“You do?” His light brows lifted. “How?”
I dragged my feet to stop the swing. “I saw the two of you.” Standing, I stepped onto the seat so we were at eye level with each other. “On the porch. I just want to know why.”
I left my other questions unspoken: Was it because of Maeve’s attack? Because he thought I might be unbalanced? Because I’d wanted to leave Arkansas? Or because I simply wasn’t enough somehow?
Abel rubbed at the back of his neck. “Everyone said Della and I would be a fine match, ever since we were kids. I don’t know why it took me so long to agree.” He took a bracing breath. “I’ve just come back from Della’s. I asked for her hand in marriage. And she accepted.”
My pulse exploded inside my ears. I gripped the ropes harder, feeling as though I were spinning.
Abel fixed his eyes on the trampled apple blossoms at our feet. “I know this is hard to hear, but I owe it to you. What happened between you and me … I shouldn’t have let you kiss me. Or kissed you back. It was a line I was wrong to cross.” He looked at me then, full on. “I hope this doesn’t end our friendship.”
I could feel myself crumbling from the inside. “Is that all I am to you now? A friend?”
“I thought maybe we were more,” he said. “For a while, I thought there might be a future for us. But I know you’ll be leaving for New York again as soon as you can. You’ve got a whole life planned out, and—”
The outrage that swelled in my throat threatened to choke me. “Does Della know about what happened with us?”
“Not in detail,” he admitted. “I think she assumed you and I were interested in each other, but there’s no misunderstanding now.” He looked down, lashes grazing his cheeks. “She knows I love her.”
My legs suddenly felt numb. Slowly, I lowered myself onto the little swing. “I see.” My voiced flattened under the weight of humiliation and loss.
“I never meant to lead you on,” he said. “But I know I did just that. You’ve got every right to be furious with me. Just please don’t let this pull you away from Della.” He clenched his hat in his hands, searching my face, waiting for my agreement.
In that moment, I buried any lingering hopes for a future with Abel. The final shovel of dirt showered down when I realized that, while he felt badly for me, my battered emotions were nothing compared to his worry that Della might be upset.
I wanted to rage at him. To let loose the tears that burned behind my eyes, tell him that I’d started to love him and a traitorous, unstoppable part of me still wanted to, in spite of what he was saying. But I did none of those things.
“I have no reason to hold a grudge against Della.” The words were ashes on my tongue. “I only hope, for her sake, that you don’t play her for a fool.”
“I never would.” His earnest expression made me want to be sick.
“Big Tom and Hettie are working in the hayfield,” I said, realizing they’d known what Abel’s outing to Della’s had been about. That was the cause of their troubled quiet this morning. The Weatheringtons, at least, had cared about how this engagement would hurt me. “They’re probably waiting for you.”
Abel pushed away from the tree trunk, taking a hesitant step toward where I sat in the swing. Broken shade scattered shards of light across his face. “Very—”
“Verity, please.” I twisted the rope until I faced away from him. Childish, perhaps, but I couldn’t let him see my face contort with pain. “Tell Big Tom and Hettie I’ll be there soon.”
For an aching few breaths, I thought he’d say more. He didn’t, and I listened as his footfalls faded and died. I untwisted the swing only when I was sure he’d be out of sight. Then, legs pumping and arms straining, I swung as hard and high as I could.
Closing my eyes and leaning back, I felt the strain of my muscles and the wind rushing past my ears. I swung as though I were still a carefree little girl, one who didn’t know that the people I needed could ever go away. Higher and higher I went, until my hair brushed the leaves above, and at the zenith of each swing, I felt myself lift off the seat. For a split second, my body was weightless. I wanted to seize that perfect, airborne moment and fly away.
The feeling of freedom ended. I plummeted back toward the ground, hard and fast, the wind drying the tears on my cheeks.
31
Now more than ever, I had no reason to stay in Wheeler. Miss Pimsler couldn’t come soon enough and free Lilah from Miss Maeve. Perhaps Papa, if he were still scouting the area for phantom dangers, would learn of our departure and return north, too. A twinge hit my heart at the thought of leaving Big Tom and Hettie behind. But it was nothing compared to the wrenching pain I’d feel having to see Della and Abel together every day.
Della came that evening to tell me about her engagement. “It seems silly now, but I was a smidge jealous of you over Abel,” she confessed. “I was afraid he might’ve been smitten with you when you first arrived.”
“No,” I said, with a brittle smile. “He only ever had eyes for you.”
Before she left, Della handed over a telegraph containing Miss Pimsler’s reply. Because of my request, she’d gotten permission to do a welfare check for all the orphan-train children sooner than was her custom. She would be here Saturday morning, the day of the ice cream social.
As the week wore on, I kept up my flawless act. For Hettie and Big Tom, I was an industrious worker. When Hettie asked if I was upset about the engagement, I’d managed to seem perplexed at the very idea.
And I treated Abel with the same bland, inattentive politeness I’d give a stranger I met on a sidewalk as I went about my day. It was a performance so skillful, even Miss Maeve would’ve been impressed.
At dawn on Saturday morning, I’d already been awake for several hours doing my chores by lantern light. I finished gathering eggs from the sleepy, baffled hens, and left the basket on the kitchen table with a note saying I’d gone back to the loft feeling ill.
Then I rode toward Wheeler.
I arrived in town just minutes before the train shrieked its arrival. Miss Pimsler stepped onto the platform, blinking around with weary eyes. I waved to her through the clearing coal smoke. Her tired expression changed to one of concern as she hurried over, dropping her leather traveling bag and taking my hand in her soft, plump one.
“I’ve been worried ever since I got your message, Verity. Are you all right, dear?”
“I’m fine. For now. But I need you to do something for me.” I looked squarely into her eyes. “No, two things. First, I’m going to tell you a story that will sound incredible, but is entirely true. I need you to hear me out. And—”
“My goodness, you begin to frighten me,” she said, looking nervously around the empty platform.
“And the second thing,” I said, taking her by the arm and steering us toward the town, “is that you mustn’t interrupt until I’m done with the story. All right?”
Miss Pimsler nodded, then steadied her large hat. “Of course. Where are we going?”
“To the church. It’s always unlocked.” And just as importantly, likely to be empty.
We nodded greetings to the few c
urious residents we met along the way and crossed the dirt road to the church. The sharp smell of wood polish greeted us as we entered. I settled onto the back pew, with Miss Pimsler taking a hesitant seat beside me.
I looked down at my hands folded in my lap, unsure of how to begin. Morning light filtered through the stained-glass window, shading my skin a deep red. Like Abel’s blood covering my fingers after Miss Maeve’s attack.
“Miss Maeve Donovan is not who she claims to be.” Then I told Miss Pimsler of a young Mary Mayhew and my father, their failed elopement, and the birth of their baby, stillborn in the frigid winter. True to her word, Miss Pimsler listened silently. I explained Mary’s flight to Wheeler and her assumed identity as Miss Maeve Donovan, false niece of prominent banker Reuben Lybrand, and how she wore a bracelet with a broken gold piece that completed the ring my father had given her long ago. “The ring is in Sheriff Loftis’s house,” I said. “I’ve held it in my hands. It has my father’s name on it.”
And then, with a huge breath of air and a prayer, I recounted my confrontation with Miss Maeve. “Abel Atchley’s injury wasn’t an accident. She wants me to keep her secret, and she’ll do whatever it takes to make sure I’m too scared to tell anyone.”
When I was finished, Miss Pimsler was quieter than I’d ever seen her. “And have you told anyone?” she said at last.
“Abel knows who Miss Maeve is, and he figured out on his own that she hurt him purposefully. I told Della Loftis everything. She’s the sheriff’s daughter. And my friend.” I swallowed hard. “Miss Maeve doesn’t realize Della and Abel know the truth. Yet.”
“Have you spoken to the Weatheringtons about this?” she asked.
I shook my head. “The people in this town, including the Weatheringtons, adore Miss Maeve. She’s wrapped them all in her web. Hardly anyone, especially the men on the adoption committee, will believe me over her. That’s why I had to bring you here. Take Sheriff Loftis to her house, tell Miss Maeve you’re there on a scheduled welfare check for all the children or something. The important thing is that you notice her bracelet. Ask the sheriff to show you the ring, if you must. You’ll see they go together. If you doubt me, then confront Miss Maeve about her past. She’ll crack, just like she did in front of me. She—”
Miss Pimsler held up a hand. “I believe you.”
“You do?” That was far easier than I’d anticipated. I didn’t trust things that came too easily.
“When Dr. Pruitt’s belongings were delivered to the society for you and Lilah, we searched through them, as we do with all items sent to our children,” she said. “As I was going through the trunk, I found this.” She unclasped her satchel and withdrew a tintype. Miss Pimsler’s small mouth drew into a bow as she handed me the image.
The hair was darker and the face more youthful, but it was definitely Miss Maeve. The muted sepia tones couldn’t dim the fiery glint in her eyes. She stared boldly out at me, lips parted in a reckless smile. I could see why my father had been drawn to Mary Eve Mayhew. I flipped the tintype over. There, in a confident hand, was a message from the past:
Matthew,
My soul is paired with yours, now and always.
—M. M.
Miss Pimsler cleared her throat. “I thought it might be … upsetting for you to open the trunk and find this memento from your father’s youth. He ought to have rid himself of it when he married your mother.” She sniffed, extending her hand. I dropped the tintype numbly into her open palm. “In any case, when I met Miss Maeve, I thought she looked like the girl in the picture. But it wasn’t until you told me this tale that I knew for certain.”
“So, you’ll help me?” I breathed. “You’ll have Lilah taken from her?”
She stood, tugging at the bottom of her short jacket. “I’ll figure something out. It might be tricky to find Lilah another home. I wouldn’t want her to stay in the area, where Miss Maeve might come after her.”
“But Miss Maeve will be in jail for what she did to Abel, won’t she?”
“Only if the local authorities want to charge her with assault. And even then, she won’t be away for long. It’s in Lilah’s interest to start anew elsewhere. The next train is going to Missouri and—”
“Take both of us back to New York.” My hands clasped as if in desperate prayer. “The Weatheringtons will release me from the indenture, I know they will. If you’ll let us both come back to New York, I’ll find a way to support us. It’s only four months until I’m eighteen now.”
Miss Pimsler’s small mouth tightened, and she fidgeted with the chain of her pendant watch. “I owe you that much, Verity. And I also owe you an apology. I was untruthful with you about why you and your sister were sent to Arkansas.”
I eyed her, wary. “It wasn’t because my parents had history here, was it?”
She shook her head. “Mr. Lybrand made a substantial donation to the Children’s Benevolence Society with the stipulation that the next orphan train come to Wheeler, Arkansas. He offered a home for Lilah. There was never a mention of you in his correspondence. I thought, however, it would be a comfort for you to find a new home near your sister.”
Miss Pimsler’s flower-laden hat trembled with the force of her agitation. “We had no idea the man was connected with a woman who would prove to be so grossly unsuitable. Mr. Lybrand said he’d known Dr. Pruitt’s family years before, had heard your father had fallen on hard times, and hoped to do a good turn for his little girl by having his niece adopt her.” Her pleading gaze roved the sanctuary before coming to rest on mine. “Surely you can understand. The money he offered helped us provide for our children. Each one in the orphanage is my responsibility. I couldn’t turn down an offer that would help so many and, to my knowledge, harm no one.”
She’d lied, but she’d done what she thought best for those in her care. “You couldn’t have known what would come of it,” I said, at last.
“I’ll have to place you back in the Society Home until your birthday, but then I’ll do my best to find you and Lilah a place of your own to stay. Together.” Her eyes were glassy with tears. “And I’ll make sure Lilah comes to no harm.”
I felt my shoulders unknot a little. “Thank you. But please don’t approach Miss Maeve alone. Take the mayor and the sheriff along when you confront her.”
Miss Pimsler stepped through a pool of blue and green light shining in from the stained glass. “I’ll find Mayor Ausbrooks and Sheriff Loftis right away. We’ll speak to Miss Maeve without delay.”
“I can come with you, if you think it would help,” I said, catching up with her purposeful stride as we left the church.
She shook her head. “It sounds as though the sheriff has an ill opinion of you. He and the mayor will be more likely to listen if we talk in private, I think. After we sort the matter out, I’ll come tell the Weatheringtons what’s happened.”
“We’ll all be at an ice cream social on the courthouse lawn this afternoon. From what I understand, the whole town will be there.”
Miss Pimsler nodded. “I’ll see you then. Now, you should get back to Mr. and Mrs. Weatherington.” She stopped abruptly, turning on her heel to face me. “I’m sorry you’ve had to go through this ordeal, Verity.” She put her hands on my shoulders and looked hard into my eyes. “I’ll put things right. This will all be over soon.”
I watched Miss Pimsler march away toward the town center, off to find Mayor Ausbrooks and Sheriff Loftis. Then I returned to the station to retrieve Lady May, relief and anxiety mixing in a confusing rush in my veins. Overhead, the morning sun hovered in a sky the same summery blue as Abel’s eyes.
I fixed my attention down the dirt road back to the farm. The next time I left this place, it would be on a train headed north, with Lilah at my side. And we wouldn’t come back.
32
I worried I’d face an interrogation when I returned to the farmhouse, but Hettie only asked if I felt better.
“Much better, actually,” I said, after taking a second to recall I
’d left a note claiming illness earlier.
Hettie set me to canning green beans while she busily rolled out pie crusts. The jars sealed one by one with a popping sound, and she nodded happily each time. “We’ll be glad for all the work we’re doing now come winter,” she said.
I didn’t comment. I’d be long gone by then.
I conveniently made myself scarce at lunch, squirreling food away to eat in my solitary loft to avoid seeing Abel. I needn’t have bothered. Through the barn’s double doors, the crunch of Merlin’s hooves drifted up to my hideout as Abel rode away for Wheeler hours before the social. Going early to spend more time with Della, I assumed. I pushed away my dinner untouched.
When I dressed for the social, it was with the enthusiasm of a mourner preparing to attend a funeral. Only the hope that Lilah and I would soon be free made the trip bearable. Hettie laced me into my S-bend corset, and as Lilah had suggested, I wore the white lawn dress I’d been given when we left the Children’s Benevolence Society Home. My attempt to put my hair up didn’t yield the lofty swoop Della always managed, but it was tolerably smooth and tidy. I finished my ensemble with a simple hat circled with a lilac ribbon, adding a pearl hatpin Hettie had loaned me for the occasion.
“You look mighty nice, Verity,” Big Tom said in his soft rumble as I climbed into the back of the buckboard.
“Thank you. I’m supposed to be Jasper Ausbrooks’s guest,” I confessed, “but I’m not feeling terribly social today.”
Hettie looked over her shoulder as Big Tom flicked the reins and we started moving. “Try to enjoy yourself, Verity. Or at least look like you are.” She handed me a pie to hold, adding, “When Abel’s around, anyway.”
Eventide Page 21
