“I hope supper was to your liking,” Camri said.
“It was. Both the company and the food.” He remembered Ophelia’s Bible and reached into his coat pocket. “I have somethin’ for ye. It’s from Ophelia.”
“Something for me?”
“Aye.” Patrick handed her the Bible. “Ophelia wrote to me in a letter that she wanted ye to have it.”
Camri opened the front of the Bible, shaking her head. “I’m deeply touched.” She gasped. “This is a family Bible.”
“Aye. ’Twas our granny’s. She gave it to Ma before she left Ireland, and Ma gave it to Ophelia.”
Camri closed the book and pressed it back into Patrick’s hands. “I can’t take your family’s Bible.”
He pushed the Bible back toward her. “It was Ophelia’s final wish that ye have it. I’ll not be takin’ it back.”
“But it’s something that should be handed down through your family. There are records here that you’ll want to keep.”
“I’ll be keepin’ the records elsewhere, ye needn’t worry.” He smiled. “I’m glad for ye to have it.” He wasn’t about to tell her that Ophelia’s desire was for them to add to those records by making a family together.
Camri looked at the Bible and gave a slow nod. “I’ll take it for a time, but please promise me that you’ll let me know if you want it back.”
He felt a deep sadness. “Aye. I’ll be lettin’ ye know.”
While Judith played on, Patrick thought of his sister’s letter and her comments about not letting love slip away without a fight. Was it possible love could exist between two people from such different walks of life?
He glanced at Camri, who was looking again at the list of family names in his granny’s Bible. The soft glow from the electric lights and fire in the hearth created a sort of halo around her head. Her chocolate brown hair seemed to take on a reddish tint, making him smile. Maybe there was a bit of Irish in her blood.
Camri seemed to sense his gaze and looked up. She had a single tear on her cheek, and he couldn’t help but reach out to wipe it away.
“Ye shouldn’t be cryin’.”
“I can’t help it. I know it’s a time of celebration, but with all that’s happened and Caleb still lost to me, I don’t feel like celebrating.”
“Aye. ’Tis well I understand, but ye cannot bring those souls back to us through tears.”
“My mother used to tell me that God keeps all of our tears in a bottle. It says so in the Bible. I think I’ve cried more since coming to San Francisco than in all the years prior. I’ve never been given to great emotion—at least not that I showed.”
“Ye kept it in places hidden.” Patrick gave a nod. “Just as I do.”
“Yes, I suppose that’s true.” She leaned back. “I’ve always considered myself so well-educated, but as I sit here, none of that matters. I would gladly trade my knowledge and education to bring my brother back, to have made your sister well . . . even to keep Henry Ambrewster from being murdered. I’ve come to see myself as a prideful woman who really knows very little, and it shames me greatly.”
“But ye’ve a heart of repentance and”—Patrick hesitated—“love. I’ve seen yer kindness to yer friends and others. Ye’re a good and godly woman, Camrianne Coulter, and ’tis pleased I am to call ye friend.”
She met his gaze, and in her eyes, Patrick saw a reflection of his own longing. Maybe Ophelia was right. Maybe they were meant for each other.
Without giving himself a chance to think it through, Patrick took Camri’s hand. “I thank ye for makin’ this evenin’ bearable. I dreaded goin’ home to empty rooms. Sittin’ here listenin’ to Judith play . . .” He glanced up, only to realize that sometime during his conversation with Camri, Judith and Kenzie had left the room. They were now quite alone.
Camri seemed to notice the girls’ absence at the same time. “It appears we’ve been deserted.”
“Aye, but I don’t mind.” He looked deep into her brown eyes.
She shook her head. “I don’t either.”
The fire popped and crackled as a log shifted in the hearth, but otherwise the room was silent. For all intents and purposes, they might have been on a deserted island. Patrick found he suddenly wanted to tell Camri about his life, about making peace with God, and about his growing feelings for her.
“Yer brother has been a good friend to me. We took to bein’ friends even before I was accused of murder. Whenever he’d come to the worksite with papers for Da, he and I would spend time in discussion. Mostly about God.”
She smiled. “That sounds like Caleb. Mother was always surprised that he didn’t go into the ministry. He did study it, you know.”
“He would have been good at it. He always seems to know what a person is thinkin’. I was strugglin’ deep in my heart. My ma had taught me to put my trust in the Lord, but her death and Ophelia bein’ sick, not to mention the growin’ troubles we were havin’ with our business . . . well, it caused me doubts and made me angry.”
“At God?”
“Aye.” He still held her hand, and since she hadn’t tried to pull away, he took that as a sign that she approved. “Ophelia likened me to wrestlin’ as Jacob did. I suppose ’twas a good way of seein’ it. I just couldn’t understand how God could allow such sufferin’.”
“There’s certainly a lot of it,” Camri admitted.
“I’ve seen it all of my life. We always stayed with our own people—livin’ in Irish neighborhoods and keepin’ Irish ways. I learned to speak the Irish before I could speak English.” He smiled. “Ma always said ’twas the language of angels.”
Camri smiled. “I’d love to hear you speak it sometime. I’ve come to enjoy your brogue.”
Her radiant expression caused his heart to beat a little faster. “That brogue can get me into trouble, ye know. A great many folks don’t hold much appreciation for the Irish.”
She sobered. “I know, but as you probably learned from Caleb, those things don’t matter much to our family.” She turned but still didn’t pull her hand away from his. “Patrick, I know I’ve been prideful regarding my education and opinions on it. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel bad because of it.” She lowered her gaze. “I’m ashamed to say that I thought myself so forward in my thinking and attitudes. I thought I understood the world and what was needed, but coming here, I’ve learned I don’t know nearly as much as I thought. God has opened my eyes to a great deal, including the realization that I was putting far more trust and importance in my education than in Him.”
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, causing her to look up again. He smiled. “Seems we’ve both been wrestlin’ with Him.”
She bit her lower lip and nodded. She was so close. Her face was only inches away, and Patrick could sense that she wanted him to kiss her as much as he wanted to.
But something held him back, and when Kenzie and Judith entered the room, it was the perfect excuse to get to his feet. Camri set the Bible aside and rose as well.
“Ladies, I thank ye for havin’ me to supper. It did my heart good. I hope I didn’t put too much of a damper on yer evening.”
Kenzie spoke first. “Not at all. You had every reason to be morose, but I didn’t find you to be that way at all. I’m glad you agreed to share our company.”
Judith stepped closer to add her agreement. “Death of a loved one is never easy. I still miss my mother. There are even times I start to turn and tell her something only to remember she won’t be there to hear it.”
“Aye. I’ve had that same experience. But time does ease the pain, and I know I’ll be seein’ them again in heaven. It’s for sure not the same as them bein’ with me in the here and now, but ’tis a promise of what’s to come. I find a great deal of comfort in that.” He looked at Camri and smiled. “But for now I must be takin’ my leave. Ye’ve got work tomorrow, and so do I.”
“Would you . . . I mean, tomorrow evening . . .” Camri stammered and looked to Kenzie and Judith for help.
“I think she’s trying to ask if you’d like to join us tomorrow for supper,” Kenzie interjected. Camri and Judith nodded.
“I thank ye for the offer, but I have a job that’s gonna keep me busy in the evenings.” He wasn’t about to tell them where he’d be working or what he was really trying to do. He still had no idea how the dance hall fit into Caleb’s disappearance.
“Well, just know that you’re always welcome here,” Camri murmured. “I’ll get your hat and coat.” She quickly left the room.
Patrick nodded to Judith and Kenzie. “If I’m not to be seein’ ye before Christmas, I wish ye merry.”
“Merry Christmas to you,” Kenzie and Judith said in unison, then looked at each other and laughed.
Patrick chuckled at their amusement. “Farewell to ye, ladies.”
He followed in the direction Camri had gone and found her waiting with his hat and coat. He took the coat from her and pulled it on. “I’ll be glad for this on the walk home.”
“I heard someone on the trolley mention snow.”
“It won’t snow here. It’s rare as hen’s teeth in these parts.”
He finished doing up the buttons, then turned to take his hat. Camri’s expression held a look of mixed emotions. He could almost guess that her feelings were as unsettled as his own.
“Thank ye again for havin’ me and for bein’ a good friend.”
She extended the hat, but her gaze never left his. “Thank you for comforting me earlier today. You have proven to be a good friend as well.”
He nodded, not daring to speak the thoughts that came to mind. Thoughts that had the potential to put an end to their friendship altogether if Camri’s feelings proved to be different from his own.
“Oíche mhaith agus Dia leat.”
Camri cocked her head slightly. “Which means?”
“Good night. God bless ye.”
She nodded and smiled. “Good night, Patrick. God bless you.”
CHAPTER
20
Christmas Eve services on Sunday morning were what Camri expected. Pastor Fisher spoke of the unimportance of worldly gifts—trinkets bought with money that might have been better used to aid the poor and sick. He stressed that the only gifts worth cherishing were the gift God had given in sending His Son to earth, and Christ’s gift to mankind by dying on a cross. Pastor Fisher concluded with an encouragement that the congregation share the gift of God’s love with each other, as well as giving generously of their money to the benevolence fund.
Camri thought of the poor Irish neighborhood where Patrick lived. Those people suffered greatly because of the attitudes of others, as well as their own lack of education and money. She wanted to do something more to help them, but what?
She thought about talking to Patrick but worried about two things. One, he might feel belittled if she spoke of his neighborhood’s poverty. And two, he might realize just how deeply she’d fallen in love with him.
Camri looked at her gloved hands. They were trembling. She had never fallen in love before. Most of her life she had been solely focused on getting an education and teaching others. Teaching had given her a sense of fulfillment. Working in the women’s suffrage movement had given her a sense of purpose. But now, neither of those things did a bit to still the longing in her heart.
I’m in love with Patrick Murdock.
There was no use denying it, and yet there was also little she could do about it. Not because Patrick was Irish, as some might have figured. Not even because of his state of poverty and lack of education. No, she couldn’t act on her feelings, because Caleb was still missing. How could she possibly put her own desires ahead of finding her brother?
On their walk home from church, Camri continued to ponder the matter. With Henry Ambrewster dead, she had lost not only his help but that of Mr. Johnston. Of course, it was possible she could talk to Mr. Johnston herself and see if he would continue to help her. She had his card, so perhaps it would be acceptable to call. Henry had just died, however, and Mr. Johnston was family, of a sort. She could hardly call on him, requesting his help, when he was in mourning for the loss of his friend.
“Camri, are you even listening?”
She barely caught Kenzie’s question. “What? Oh, I’m sorry.”
“No doubt thinking about a certain man,” Judith said, smiling.
Camri felt her face grow hot. “Well, if you must know, yes. I was wondering who might help me find Caleb now that Henry Ambrewster is dead. Mr. Johnston was supposed to be getting us information, but now I don’t know if he’ll be inclined to help me. After all, Henry’s sister is married to his brother, and the loss of Henry is no doubt great.”
Judith’s teasing look faded. “I’m sorry for teasing you. I know you’re still worried about Caleb.”
Camri shook her head. “I don’t mean to be dismal about it, but I’m truly at a loss. Patrick said he’s looking for whatever clues he can find, but honestly I don’t have much hope anymore. It’s been over four months.”
“You must always have hope,” Judith said, looping her arm through Camri’s. “Like the pastor said this morning, Christmas is all about God’s gift of hope.”
Kenzie had been quiet throughout the morning, but now she nodded in agreement. “We have to have hope, Camri. Life without it isn’t worth living.”
Camri looked from one woman to the other. “I know you’re right. I want to be hopeful. I want to be strong and have no doubts. I’m afraid, however, that I’m weakening in my resolve. How can I hope to find my brother in this huge city? A city rife with murder and corruption of every sort?”
“Well, do you suppose we could just . . . set aside our worry about such matters for Christmas?” Judith asked in a hesitant tone. “Not that your brother isn’t important. He is, and I pray for him all the time. But . . . well, it is Christmas and . . .” Her voice trailed off, as if she feared she’d said too much.
Camri knew her negative heart could ruin the holiday for everyone. She resolved to do what she could to make the day merry. “I think it’s a good idea to do just that.”
“I know,” Kenzie said, “why don’t we have a Christmas party—a dinner? We can invite my cousin and Patrick. They have no one else to be with, and we wouldn’t want them to be alone on Christmas.”
Judith looked at Camri. “Could we?”
“I think we should.” Camri made a quick determination to put aside all her worries. “Let’s send an invitation to Patrick and Mr. Lake right away. The Wongs intend to visit elsewhere, so we’ll have to prepare the dinner ourselves.”
“Are they spending the day with family?” Judith asked.
“I honestly don’t know.” Camri shrugged. “Mrs. Wong told me Caleb always gave them the day off. She said they would leave early in the morning and probably not return before evening.”
“That’s all right. I can bake quite well,” Judith offered. “I can cook other things too, but baking is my specialty.”
“I can cook,” Kenzie offered. “I’ve made more than my share of meals. We figured to have ham, so that will spread far enough to include other people. We’ll just add another side dish or two.”
“I’ve not had much experience in cooking,” Camri admitted. It was yet another reminder that not all education came from a book. “But I am happy to help with arranging the table and cleaning up afterward.”
“It sounds like we can manage this quite well,” Kenzie replied as they reached the house. “I suggest we get the invitations out right away. Perhaps Mr. Wong would be willing to deliver them for us.”
Camri felt her spirits rise at the thought of seeing Patrick again. “I think he might be persuaded.”
After all their plans were made and the invitations on their way, Judith and Kenzie retired to their bedrooms while Camri made her way to Caleb’s office. She felt almost intrusive being there, even though she knew Caleb would never have kept her from the room. In fact, when she’d last visited, he’d encouraged her to use t
he study for reading or writing letters.
She sat down at his desk and rubbed her arms. They’d kept the room closed to the rest of the house, so it held a damp chill. She leaned back in the leather chair and gazed around the room. She had put everything in order as best she could remember it, but somehow it just didn’t seem right. Of course, the most important thing missing was Caleb.
“Where are you, Caleb?” she asked for what seemed the thousandth time.
She shivered, imagining him beaten so severely that he no longer knew his own name. It was the only thing she could figure had happened. Otherwise he would have sent word.
Unless, of course, he was dead. Lately she’d had to allow that this was a strong possibility. Just the day before, she had penned a letter to her parents and alluded to that very thing. She knew her parents had been fearing such news since before she departed for San Francisco. They weren’t naïve enough to rule out the possibility, no matter how much they wished it untrue. Catherine was even more pragmatic about such matters.
I don’t know what I’ll do if he’s dead. How can I even know for sure unless I see his body?
She pressed her fingers to her temples. She had prayed so hard for answers, for Caleb’s safe return. Yet she had no more idea of what had happened to him than when she’d first arrived. There were, in fact, even more questions, and now they had the matter of Henry’s death to complicate things.
The hall clock chimed four. In days gone by, days when she and Caleb were still at home, they would have been preparing for a big Christmas Eve party. Her parents held one every year and invited all of their academic friends. It had been the finest of parties, with wonderful gifts and food. Camri had always enjoyed visiting with her parents’ friends, but perhaps the most memorable and pleasant moment of all was her father reminding their intellectual guests the true reason for their Christmas gathering.
Just as Pastor Fisher had stressed, Jesus came as a gift to save lost souls. “It’s a gift,” her father had said every year. “A gift that we can accept or refuse, but nevertheless a gift. It comes without cost to us, but of considerable price to the giver. A gift more valuable than gold or silver. A gift of immeasurable value.”
In Places Hidden Page 18