Love on Assignment

by Cara Lynn James

  “Miss Hale is gone! Why did she leave us?” the little girl asked, panting from her sprint across the damp grass. She pulled on his sleeve, her way of demanding an answer.

  “It was time for her to go home.”

  Ruthie waved a note. “Miss Hale left this for Tim and me, but she doesn’t explain much.”

  Daniel resisted the urge to grab the letter. “She had her reasons for leaving.”

  Ruthie groaned. “I think she left because she feels bad about not marrying you.”

  Perhaps that but so much more. “We’ll all miss her, pumpkin.”

  “Then go after her and bring her back. It’s not too late.”

  Daniel let out a joyless laugh. “No, Ruthie. I’m letting her go.”

  WHEN CHARLOTTE RETURNED home to Bridge Street, relief spilled through her. Her awful charade was finally over. No matter how badly everything turned out, at least she was home safe with her family, and she didn’t have to pretend she was someone else. She dropped her bag at the bottom of the staircase and joined Aunt Amelia and Becky in the parlor. They both hovered around her as she spewed out her misadventure. They listened silently as her aunt poured her a cup of tea.

  “I’m sorry it went so wrong,” Aunt Amelia said as she sat next to Charlotte on the sofa.

  In her wheelchair, Becky kept knitting, but her face drooped in a frown.

  Charlotte stretched her lips into an unconvincing smile. “I might not be in high demand without a reference, but rest assured, I’ll find some sort of job. We won’t starve. I promise you that.”

  Aunt Amelia patted her on the arm. “I do admire your spunk, but you don’t need to put on a brave front for us.” Her hands twisted in her lap and Charlotte knew Aunt Amelia worried just as much as she did.

  “I’m afraid I’m out of ideas at the moment, but Monday I’ll put on my best dress and hat and go to town and find a position far superior to typing for the Rhode Island Reporter.” Exactly what, she didn’t know. But staying at home wasn’t an option.

  Aunt Amelia’s mouth tipped upward in a brave smile, but her eyes betrayed her fear. Without funds they couldn’t pay the roofer and they’d have to go to court. Would they lose their home? No, Charlotte vowed, they’d never end up as charity cases if she had even one breath left in her body.

  Sunday morning she attended the church near her home and sought the solace of the Lord. She believed He’d help her secure a job.

  The next day she donned her best hat and walked to Thames Street where she’d undoubtedly find Help Wanted signs. Surely some shopkeeper needed a strong intelligent woman to sell a thimble or sweep a floor or send out an invoice.

  Oh Lord, don’t let me go without work, she prayed as she glanced at the storefront windows, hoping for a sign advertising a job vacancy. The dry goods store needed a shop boy, not girl, and the shoe shop wanted experienced help. Her feet slowed as she tired. She stopped at the grocery and purchased a bag of white corn meal for Aunt Amelia and a few mint candies for Becky before coming to the Rhode Island Reporter.

  Out of habit she turned toward the door that led to the newspaper’s second floor offices, but stopped mid-step. Her heartbeat raced at such a fast pace it almost hurt. She spun around, ready to flee from regret and hopes dashed when she remembered Mr. Phifer owed her two weeks’ salary. She’d rather have a tooth pulled than face her former boss, but if she didn’t insist on her just wage, he’d never pay. Sending a note would be far easier than confronting him. But ignoring a written request would be easy for him. In the end, she’d have to deal with him person to person. Charlotte took a deep breath, which failed to calm her nerves, and climbed the steps to the second floor.

  She opened the door to the newsroom, glanced at her former colleagues, and tilted the corners of her mouth in a weak smile. Raised eyebrows and tentative smiles greeted her. Undoubtedly they’d all heard the story, at least Mr. Phifer’s or the photographer’s version. Fortunately Jesse Miller wasn’t there that morning. Typewriters clicked as Charlotte approached the editor’s office.

  Charlotte gave a hesitant rap on the door. Holding her breath, she waited on unstable legs.

  She heard a gruff call to enter but didn’t move. Several seconds passed before she pushed on the door and stepped over the threshold.

  “You!” he growled. “What do you want, Miss Hale? Out with it. I haven’t time to waste.”

  Charlotte straightened and lifted her chin. “My pay. I neglected to pick it up when I quit my job.”

  The red in Mr. Phifer’s ruddy complexion darkened to purple. “The nerve! What makes you think you deserve any pay?”

  Charlotte stepped closer. “I worked hard and I deserve compensation.”

  “You deserve nothing,” he boomed as he came around from his desk. Halting only a hair’s breadth away, he towered above her.

  She took a step backward, hitting her head against the hard wood. “Nevertheless, you must pay me.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  Her body melted to jelly. “I’ll—I’ll tell everyone I know that you refused to give me my just wages. I know quite a few Newporters, and they might not take kindly to your unfairness. They might even stop buying your newspaper.”

  “Get out of my office and never darken my door again.” He wagged a beefy finger at Charlotte.

  “I shall collect my wages from the bookkeeper right now. And don’t try to stop me, Mr. Phifer.” She opened the door and stepped into the newsroom, still shocked by her own audacity. She headed for the bookkeeper’s office, her heart hammering in her chest, and only started to breathe again when he didn’t follow her. He was going to let her collect her salary and leave!

  Five minutes later, with her money safely in her reticule, Charlotte rushed down the staircase and out into the noise and bustle of Thames Street.

  Thank You, Lord. I couldn’t have done that without You. She leaned against a storefront window and slowly regained her equilibrium. Without His courage she never would’ve demanded her salary. Feeling better, she strolled down the opposite side of Thames Street in search of a position. But at least her pay provided a short reprieve, and she was more than thankful.

  A WEEK LATER Daniel spent the afternoon helping Mrs. Finnegan and the children pack books from his study shelves. After emptying the top shelf, he turned to his desk. He hadn’t expected to ever move from Summerhill, but he’d easily found a buyer through word of mouth. And the prospective owners were anxious to move in.

  Clearing off his desk, he discovered an envelope inscribed “Newspaper Columns.” Inside he found all his writings organized with explanatory notes. Charlotte’s work. He bit his lip. Her absence still stung.

  His mother shuffled into the office, her hair carefully done up with her best diamond-studded pins. A long strand of pearls hung around the neck of a fancy ruffled blouse as if she expected company. She probably did. Mr. McClintock visited faithfully each day, always bearing some small gift. A book, a box of sweets, a bouquet of carnations or roses. At least she has found love.

  “You’re looking chipper today,” Daniel said as he placed Charlotte’s envelope in a packing crate.

  “Indeed, I am. My dear friend Mr. McClintock and I are going for a carriage ride. There’s nothing like bracing sea air to restore one’s health.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.” He opened another drawer.

  Vivian slid into the chair with the broken springs. “You need to throw away this piece of junk.”

  He nodded. If they were staying he’d eventually have a footman cart it up to the attic. But a move required he rid the entire house of his paraphernalia, including every “treasure” stored away. Perhaps he should have allowed Charlotte to clean it out when she first came. Or maybe her seemingly generous gesture was merely a trick to gain access to a likely hiding spot for his personal things. His chest compressed as he considered Charlotte’s spying. He’d trusted her implicitly. His mother sighed, obviously reading his face. “I’m sorry to leave Newport, but I’m
more than happy to leave Charlotte behind. She tried to ruin your life, Daniel.”

  When he’d returned home from Spring Creek Lodge, he’d told her about the incident with Missy and the photographer from the Rhode Island Reporter. She’d smirked as if she’d always known Charlotte’s true character. Perhaps she had. Yet, despite the overwhelming evidence, he believed Charlotte’s boss had misled her. And he couldn’t forget how desperately she needed her salary just to survive. Now she lacked a job. He hoped she’d secure a good one quickly.

  He should feel far angrier than he did, but he couldn’t forget the enjoyment they’d had with the children and the lessons she’d taught him. He’d never again leave their care solely to others, not even to his mother.

  “Charlotte deceived me, but she’s repented, and I forgive her. At first I was angry, but after a while I realized she was trapped by her situation. She didn’t want to mislead me, yet she felt she had no other choice. Eventually the Lord gave her the courage to confess.”

  His mother slumped in the chair, her chin resting for a moment on her tight collar. “It pains me to say it, but you’re a fool, son. When will you stop trusting everyone?”

  Daniel shrugged. “Probably never. But I don’t want to argue about Charlotte. She’s out of our lives forever, I’m afraid.”

  His mother’s face drew in at the cheeks and fine lines seemed to have deepened overnight. Her complexion was tinged with a sickly gray. “Are you feeling well?” he asked.

  She straightened her shoulders. “My energy is still low and every now and again my heart hurts. I spoke to Doctor Lowe and we agreed my little spells are nothing to worry about.”

  “I can fetch him right now if you wish.”

  “Thank you, but I don’t want you to go to any trouble.”

  Daniel stood up. “It’s no trouble, Mother.”

  “There’s no need. Mr. McClintock will be arriving in a few minutes, and I don’t want our visit spoiled by a doctor.”

  Daniel nodded, unconvinced. “Now who’s the foolish one?”

  She bristled. “I’m a grown woman. Don’t you think I’d send for the doctor if I needed him?”

  Daniel raised his palms in surrender. “Of course.”

  Mr. Grimes waddled into the study, an envelope in hand. “A boy delivered this from the college. President Ralston, he said.”

  Daniel slit open the envelope and removed a short note. Professor Wilmont, please stop by my office at your earliest convenience. He read it aloud to his mother. “I wonder what that’s all about.”

  “Oh, do and go find out at once, Daniel.”

  As curious as his mother, Daniel washed and changed from his work clothes into a charcoal summer suit and black bowler. In half an hour he was seated in President Ralston’s grand office, waiting for the academic to get to the point of the meeting. The administrator paced, bending forward, hands clasped behind his back. His furrowed forehead suggested this meeting wasn’t to his liking. His heavy eyebrows twitched.

  “Professor, it’s come to my attention that you’re an exceptionally gifted teacher. Your students give you high praise. In a word, they insist you stay at the college.”

  “Oh?” Daniel murmured, wondering if perhaps some of his students’ parents forced President Ralston to reconsider his forced resignation.

  “So, if you’d like, you may keep your position as Bible professor. And you may continue to write your column with the Newport Gazette.”

  “Just like that?” He couldn’t imagine which students had become his advocates.

  “Yes. I always keep an open mind and listen to all points of view.”

  Daniel struggled to stifle a laugh.

  “Will you remain with us, Professor?”

  “I shall be delighted to continue my teaching duties. May I ask who spoke up for me?”

  The president shook his head. “Many of the students and their parents want you to remain here, but your strongest advocate was one of your students, Agnes Brownington.”

  DANIEL HURRIED TO Summerhill, bursting with his news. His mother’s smile flashed genuine relief.

  “Splendid,” she said to Daniel. And then her gaze slid to Mr. McClintock, seated on the wicker chair beside her. “I would have missed you, Horace.”

  Ruthie threw her arms around Daniel and buried her head in his chest while Tim jumped and whooped like a wild man. Mrs. Finnegan hustled to the drawing room to unpack vases and figurines from the mantel and whatnot shelves.

  Daniel fetched the gig and drove to Bridge Street in search of Charlotte. Surely she’d want to know about President Ralston’s change of heart. He halted the gig in front of Charlotte’s home and knocked at the door. While he waited, children down the block romped on the sidewalk, shouting, playing jacks, rolling hoops. Women with shopping bags and toddlers in hand greeted the little children as they passed by. These were native Newporters, whose ancestors had founded the city by the sea over two hundred and fifty years before, common people whose husbands worked hard for a living down at the docks and in the shipyards.

  The gaunt Mrs. Hillman opened the door a crack, then when she recognized him, she flung it open and stepped aside.

  “Do come in, Professor Wilmont. I expect you’re looking for my niece. If you’ll wait in the parlor, I’ll fetch her.”

  Daniel followed Mrs. Hillman into the claustrophobic room, overwhelmed by carefully displayed clutter. A few family photographs lined up against the faded wallpaper, afghans draped over chairs, and a vase of yellow daisies graced the side table. He noticed the Bible he’d given Charlotte for her birthday lay beside the flowers. He stood by the fireplace, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. Every nerve in his body jangled like a sack of coins.

  Charlotte entered the parlor, wariness veiling her eyes. She wore a simple violet dress, far prettier than the plain uniform his mother made her wear. “Good morning, Daniel. I didn’t expect to see you again.” By the edge in her voice he knew she expected an explanation. She didn’t project the friendliness he’d hoped for.

  “I have excellent news I want to share, but first I want to give you your pay. You left Summerhill so quickly I didn’t have a chance.” He handed her an envelope, but she shook her head.

  “I appreciate your kindness, but I don’t deserve it. Not when Mr. Phifer was paying me too. But thank you all the same. You’re more than generous.” She glanced at the envelope he placed on a table, but she didn’t reach to pick it up.

  “So, what is your good news?”

  He couldn’t help grinning, even though she stood there, so stiff and inhospitable. “President Ralston reinstated me, so I’ll be staying in Newport.”

  She allowed a small smile to play on the corners of her mouth. “I’m so happy for you and your family. How did that come about?”

  “Agnes Brownington and her father intervened, along with some other parents.” He hoped Charlotte would cheer up at his good news, but her fingers gripped the back of an overstuffed chair and her smile remained uncertain.

  “I’m thankful this worked out in the end, though I deeply regret my part in all your troubles.”

  “But that’s all in the past now.”

  She shook her head. “It’s not that easy to ignore betrayal. But thank you for stopping by to tell me you’re staying in Newport.” She started for the front hallway.

  Apparently Charlotte expected him to follow. He lingered by the mantel, unwilling to leave until he said what he’d really come here to say. “Charlotte, I want you to know I hold no hard feelings toward you. We all commit sin and we all make errors in judgment. God forgives us, so we must forgive one another.” He took a deep breath. “If you’re willing, I hope we can begin again. We can make a fresh start and forget the past.”

  She shook her head. “That’s not possible, Daniel. I’m so sorry.”

  He feared she might resist his clumsy attempt at reconciliation, but he couldn’t let her turn away. “Why? I love you, Charlotte, and I thought you loved me as well.�
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  He shouldn’t have asked that question because he didn’t want to hear the answer. From the dejection tugging at her mouth and dulling her eyes, Daniel knew her response wasn’t the one he wished for. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss away all her reservations. And guilt.

  Her shoulders slumped. “You think you forgive me, and perhaps you really do. But you’ll never forget how I betrayed you, no matter how hard you try.” Her lower lip trembled as she raised her chin and stepped toward the front door.

  “Maybe you’ll reconsider when more time has passed.” Surely she’d realize his love could fill an ocean and drown all her guilt. “You know I’ve forgiven you, but now you must forgive yourself.”

  Charlotte opened the front door and stood back to let him pass. “You’re a good man, Daniel Wilmont. A godly man. And I’m sorry I caused so you much pain.”

  He leaned down to kiss her, but she moved to the side and gently shook her head. “I’m afraid it won’t work for us.”

  His shoulders slumped. “It could if you’d only try to let go of your guilt. Good day, Charlotte.”

  “Good-bye. I’ll miss you, Daniel,” she whispered.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Charlotte clicked the door shut and shuffled to the parlor on wobbly legs. Collapsing into the chair by the window, she watched Daniel’s buggy disappear down the street. He glanced back but didn’t spot her behind the lacy curtains stirring in the morning breeze.

  His buggy turned the corner and he was gone. She already missed him dreadfully. Her chest ached with thoughts of what might have been.

  She’d so wanted to melt into his arms and feel his warmth surround her. She needed his strength and good sense to keep her on track, to see how her life fit into God’s plan. To bring her stability. She could marry him now because he’d be staying in Newport, and most importantly, he knew of her betrayal. He forgave her, but as a good Christian, what other choice did he have? He had to disregard her transgressions or at least try to. But in his heart could he truly forget what she’d done?