A Deep Divide

by Kimberley Woodhouse

  Dad paced back toward him. “It should only take a few days, so you can tell your mother I will be back by the week’s end.”

  “Mother?” Now Ray was really confused. Perhaps he hadn’t heard correctly.

  “Yes, son.” Exasperation laced his tone. “Tell your mother I’ll be back by Saturday. That way she won’t worry.” His father reached up and scratched his beard.

  Ray couldn’t believe his own ears. Mother hadn’t been mentioned for years. “Dad, are you feeling all right?”

  His father turned and smiled. “Never better, son. Never better.” He bounced on his toes and placed his hands behind his back. “You know, I think it’s high time we expand into hotels. We need more luxury accommodations, don’t you agree?”

  “I think maybe you need to lie down.” Ray stood and walked over to his father. He should telegram their physician at home and find out what was going on.

  “Whatever for? I’m not tired. I do need to speak with Henry, though. I’ll need to instruct him on what to pack. Please send for him, Ray.”

  Another person from the past. Spoken of as if he were still here. Ray searched for how to answer his father.

  “Did you hear me?” Dad looked expectantly at him.

  He cleared his throat. “Uh . . . yes, sir.” Ray stared at his father for several moments, but he had already walked back to the window. It didn’t make sense. He left his father in the room. As he closed the door, he blew out his breath. First Dad mentioned Mother and then Henry. The valet Dad asked for had been gone for more than a decade. Henry’s son was now Dad’s valet.

  What could make his father not know what year it was?

  He went to the room where the valets were staying and knocked.

  John opened the door. “Yes, Mr. Watkins, how may I help you?”

  “May I speak with you about my father?”

  “Of course, sir.”

  “Has he said anything . . . odd to you of late?”

  “I’m not quite sure what you mean, sir.” The man’s voice was clear and steady, but in his eyes, Ray could see the hesitation. The man knew the truth.

  “Has he mentioned your father or my mother as if they are still . . . here?”

  The older man sighed. “Yes, sir. The past few months, he’s carried on conversations with me as if I were my father.”

  “What do you make of it?” Maybe Ray was grasping, but there had to be someone who understood what was going on.

  “I’m sorry, sir. I wouldn’t know. But Dr. Prentiss visited just last month and witnessed one of the episodes. Perhaps you should inquire of him.”

  “John, look, I appreciate the fact that you are loyal to my father and want to protect his privacy. I simply am concerned and if you know anything that could help, please tell me.”

  “I’m sorry, sir. I made a promise.” The man’s eyes were wary.

  “Ah, I see.” His dad had obviously sworn the man to secrecy—and likely threatened him if he broke that promise. His dad was formidable and controlling, even when he was a bit off. “Thank you for your honesty, John.” He paused. “My father requested that you come. He needs some help with packing.”

  “Thank you, sir. I’ll be right there.” The valet dipped his chin and closed the door.

  Ray made his way down the stairs and then sent a telegram off to Dr. Prentiss back in Chicago. Perhaps he could shed some light on the matter. Taking the stairs two at a time, he went back up to his father’s room. As he opened the door, Dad frowned.

  “Where have you been?”

  “I went to speak with John.” Ray searched for signs Dad remembered their earlier conversation. Dad’s face wasn’t the same as it was before. Something was different in his eyes.

  “John is here. He’s getting my things ready for Kingman.” His father was already dressed for dinner. He preened in the mirror and adjusted his waistcoat.

  “I can see that.” Maybe he should try a different tactic. “Are you still planning on returning by Saturday?”

  “Yes, I think that should be enough time to conclude my negotiations.”

  “Negotiations? Are you buying another business?”

  “No. Just hiring some more men. I have a large job for them to do.” He reached for a glass of port and drank the last of it. “Are you about ready for dinner?”

  “I’ll go change right now.” He turned for the door.

  “Good. I’m wondering if we can have our same table but request a different waitress.”

  He whirled around. “What is wrong with Miss Edwards?”

  “I think she’s a gold digger. You pay her entirely too many compliments. And attention. I’m putting my foot down. Those walks of yours need to come to a halt.” His father was definitely back to his normal self.

  “That is no way to speak about Miss Edwards. She is well deserving of every compliment I give to her, and she is definitely not a gold digger.”

  “How would you know such a thing?” Dad gave him a pointed look and shook his head. “It’s high time you were married. A few years ago, I thought I had a suitable arrangement for you that included a merger that would have been outstanding for Watkins Enterprises, but . . .” He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll arrange a suitable marriage for you—someone who will bring as much to the table as you do.”

  “I would like to choose my own wife, Father.” It was probably said with more force than necessary, but he wasn’t expecting this train of conversation. And he definitely wouldn’t allow his dad to put a stop to his seeing Emma Grace. It was ludicrous.

  “You must be quite vehement if you call me Father.” Dad looked at his watch and chuckled. “Very well, I’ll let this drop for now. I don’t wish to be late to dinner.”

  “Dad . . . listen. There is someone that I am interested in. I have been waiting for the right moment to let you know.”

  “It’s about time you worked on it.” His father clapped him on the shoulder. “You can tell me about her over dinner. How much money does her family have?”

  “I sent a telegram today.” Emma Grace fiddled with her gloves as she walked with Ray along the rim. Their walks had become the highlight of her day.

  “Oh?”

  The clouds hung low in the sky tonight. “To Mr. Scott—he’s the man I told you about, my grandfather’s solicitor.”

  Ray kept his steps in time with hers. “What did you say?”

  “I spent a tidy sum, that’s for certain. But I asked him if I was required to marry Wellington—you know, if he could force me—because of the contract, or if there could be a way out that would appease him.”

  “Did you hear anything back?”

  “Only that he fears that I am in danger, but he didn’t tell me how or why. He said he’d contact me tomorrow.” She pulled off her gloves and shoved them in her pocket so she wouldn’t wear a hole in them with all her fidgeting. “I’ve been afraid of Wellington for five years. I haven’t even seen the man in ages, and yet, in my mind, he’s some sort of monster that is chasing me. After my father was killed, I felt my only choice was to hide. But now I just want it to be over. To find answers.”

  “It’s best to wait and hear what Mr. Scott says. Wellington may not be the only one looking for you, you know.”

  She scrunched her brow. It had been easier to put a face and name to the one chasing her all these years. But what if Ray was right?

  He shrugged. “I’m not trying to make you worry, but you said there was more than one man who held a contract with your father. In this day and age, not everyone cares about whether or not what they’re doing is legal. Whether he put them up to a competition to win your hand or not, only one man can marry you and gain control. Any one of them could be after your father’s fortune. Or for that matter . . . your father’s killer. Who wouldn’t want to ensure their inheritance? You just happened to foil their plan by disappearing.”

  She reached to the back of her head and felt where the bump had been. When she’d been attacked, she thought that
was the end. Wellington had found her. He had won. But then it all came out about the theft at the Hopi House. Chuma had come to see her the next day, and as soon as Emma Grace had seen that her Hopi friend wasn’t hurt, she’d been able to relax a bit more.

  “Does it give you a lot of pain?” Ray stopped and stared at her. His gaze was caring. Kind. Why couldn’t more men be like that?

  “I’ve had a constant headache since it happened, but it is beginning to ease.”

  “You really had me worried. Over the last few days, I’ve had lots of time to pray and to think. I can understand why you are tired of running, of living with this constant fear, the black cloud hanging over your head all the time. I don’t know how you’ve been able to bear it.” He reached forward and took one of her hands in his. “I want you to know that I will be here for you through it all. I want to help you.”

  “I don’t know what you could do, Ray, but I appreciate it. I do.” She pulled away and went to sit on a rock at the edge. “When I first came here, all I wanted was to have a family of friends who I could trust and live out my days with as I hid here. But as soon as I started feeling connected to people again, I realized what I’d been missing. And then it wasn’t enough to hide here. I want more.”

  He came over to sit next to her. “You know . . . I didn’t know what I was missing in my life until I met you, Emma Grace. I understand what you are saying.” His words were hushed, but the sincere look in his eyes sent a tingle all the way down to her toes.

  No one had ever treated her like Ray Watkins did. She barely knew the man, and yet she felt like she’d known him for years. How was that even possible? As she stared into his eyes, an overwhelming need to be loved washed over her. She shook her head. She couldn’t go there right now. “Ray, I’ve made a decision I need to tell you about. You’ve helped me do it, actually.”

  “Okay.” He pulled back an inch or two, like the magic of the moment had been broken. She hated that she had done that, but she wasn’t ready to give credence to her feelings. Not yet. There were too many unknowns in her life. Too many risks and she didn’t want to put him in danger too. Especially after she said it out loud.

  “I’ve decided to tell the truth about who I am. No matter the consequences to me. All this time, I have lived in fear. But no more. My biggest hesitation has been about putting others in danger.” She looked down at her hands. “I couldn’t bear if something happened to . . . to you. Or to anyone else here.”

  “Emma—”

  With a lift of her hand, she stopped him. “I need to finish.” Pinching her lips together, she summoned all of her courage. “If I want to have a future . . . if I want to have friends and a family—real friends and . . . love—I’ve got to tell the truth. And then maybe I can do something to help others. Like Caroline’s little brother. You heard how much his medical bills are piling up. Maybe I can pay back all the men who negotiated contracts with my father. To be honest, I want my inheritance after all. But I want to sell off my father’s holdings and company and use the money to help other people.”

  He didn’t react at all like she’d expected. In fact, he didn’t react at all.

  Instead, he reached for her hand again. “Will you stay here?”

  “I’d like to. I don’t want to leave a legacy like my father did. He hoarded money for years and all for what? To have his child kidnapped? To get killed? To have me running for my life? No. I don’t want anything to do with the money. I just want to give it away. If I need to remain a Harvey Girl for the rest of my life in order to support myself, I will. But I will do it without hiding.”

  “What made you change your mind? You said you thought you would have to hide forever.” His thumb rubbed circles over her fingers.

  “Your Bible. And you.” She pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket with her other hand. “Ruth told me a verse and I memorized it. I kept saying it over and over again: ‘I sought the Lord, and he heard me, and delivered me from all my fears.’ That was when I started talking to God. Seeking Him. Then when you lent me your Bible, I started looking for verses on fear. Frank gave me a few, and Ruth gave me a few, and then I found several on my own.” She held out the paper to him. “But these are my favorites.”

  Romans 8:15—For ye have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear; but ye have received the Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father.

  Proverbs 29:25—The fear of man bringeth a snare: but whoso putteth his trust in the LORD shall be safe.

  Second Timothy 1:7—For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.

  Psalm 34:4—I sought the LORD, and he heard me, and delivered me from all my fears.

  “When I was attacked the other night, I thought for sure that it was Wellington who’d come to kill me. I had been praying and talking to God and begging Him for answers to all my questions, and then I remembered what you told me about trying to do it on your own and failing. That it was simple: Don’t be afraid, believe.” She lifted her face to the sky. “And so I did.”

  18

  He’d been watching her all day. As soon as the train arrived, he went straight to the dining room and asked to be seated at one of Emma Grace’s tables.

  The picture didn’t do the woman justice. She was quite beautiful. Even with her hair pulled tightly back and those ridiculous glasses on her face.

  He’d found her.

  She had no idea who he was as she’d been serving him all day. There was no fear in her face.

  He used his fork to scrape up the last bite of pie and then washed it down with the rest of his coffee. The dinner hour had come and gone and there were only two people left in the dining room—him and one other gentleman who seemed to know Miss McMurray quite well. Or Miss Edwards, as he’d learned she’d been using as her new name.

  She walked over to his table. “Is there anything else I can get you, sir?”

  “No, but thank you.” He gave her his best smile and stood from the table. He’d go out to the room outside the lobby and watch what she did next.

  “Have a good evening.” She walked away and stopped by the other table again.

  He headed out to sit by the fireplace. From where he sat, he could see the hallway that led to the dining room and the stairs going up and down. If he turned his head, he could see the front door. No matter where she went, he’d be one step behind her.

  It didn’t take long for him to spot her walking side by side with the gentleman from the other table.

  The man held out her coat for her, and she buttoned herself up into it.

  Huh. They must be going outside.

  Well, he would just follow them.

  After they left, he watched out the window for several moments to ascertain which direction they’d gone. Then he shoved his hat on his head and followed.

  The two strolled at a slow pace as they chitchatted and laughed. As they neared the driveway, an older gentleman called, “Ray!”

  “Dad . . . you’re back!” The gentleman with Miss McMurray seemed surprised.

  The father adjusted his top hat. “Yes, and I’ve hired some new men, so the next few days I’ll be quite busy as I instruct them and train them.” The older man looked twice at the woman with his son. “Miss Edwards?”

  “Mr. Watkins. It’s nice to see you.”

  “Humph.”

  The man didn’t like Emma Grace? Hmmm. That could be useful.

  “I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow, son.”

  “I look forward to it, Dad.”

  Mr. Watkins walked away.

  It was time.

  He stepped forward. “Miss McMurray.”

  She put a hand to her throat. “Who are you?”

  Ray stepped forward and pushed Emma Grace behind him with his arm. “I believe the lady asked you a question.”

  The man reached into his coat.

  Holding his breath, Ray prayed that it wasn’t a gun. But he would gladly lay down his life for her.
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  The man pulled out a badge. “The name’s Peter Samson, and I’ve been looking for Emma Grace McMurray.”

  Ray leaned forward and read the badge. “‘Pinkerton National Detective Agency.’” He looked up at the man. “What do you want with Miss McMurray?”

  “I’m here to take her back to Boston with me. There’s someone who is very eager to see her.”

  “Who might that someone be?” He felt Emma Grace press into his shoulder as she spoke. “Mr. Wellington?”

  “Miss, if you’ll kindly come along with me, we will fetch your belongings.”

  “She’s not going anywhere with you.” Ray had never dealt with a Pinkerton before. How much power did they have?

  “Look.” Mr. Samson rubbed his jaw. “I don’t want to have to arrest you, so if you’ll just come with me quiet-like, this can all be resolved.”

  “Arrest me?” Her voice squeaked. “What would you arrest me for?”

  “The murder of your father.”

  “What?!” Ray stepped back with Emma Grace. No way was he about to allow her to be arrested for murder.

  But she came around to stand beside him. “You think I murdered my father?”

  Mr. Samson shrugged. “I think it’s possible. There are several people who do. But let’s not muddy the waters. My client doesn’t think you did, and he wanted you found. I found you. Now it’s time to bring you back.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you, Mr. Samson. How do I know that you’re not here to kill me?”

  “That’s ridiculous, Miss McMurray. If I were here to do that, you’d already be dead.”

  She moved a bit behind Ray again.

  Ray held up a hand. “This has all got to be some misunderstanding. Why don’t we go inside and discuss this in a calm, rational manner?”

  “All right. I’m a reasonable man. Let’s go discuss it, but that’s not to say that you are going to be able to change my mind.” The man held out an arm. “Lead the way.”

  It had taken an hour to tell Mr. Samson the entire story of what had taken place over the last five years. Emma Grace was thankful that Ray had asked for Ruth and Mr. Owens to be fetched before they started because she needed all the support she could get. The private dining room was closed off to prying ears.