Josie’s heart plunged down. “You do not think Chadwick’s threat is valid?”
“Like I said, he must motivate the right do-gooder to charge your father. Corruption is a standard around New York cemeteries. Why do you think we went there?” Alvin sighed. “But now, what to do with your ridiculous agreement with that doctor?”
Movement distracted Josie from the guilt of complicating this predicament. Just past Alvin, she saw a figure turning from the bridge. “We must go.”
She pushed past him, praying it wasn’t Braham. She did not want to lie to him anymore. This man was not her father’s farmhand. He was her father’s demon.
As she drew near to the garden gate, the person appeared from behind the promenade of trees lining the canal. Her stomach sank. Audra’s hair flamed from beneath her hood, and she waved frantically at Alvin while she approached Josie. “You, wait,” Audra demanded with a pointed finger at Josie.
Josie swallowed hard, despising taking orders from this woman.
Alvin rushed over to them both. “What is it?” He searched Audra’s face with an intensity Josie had never seen from the man. His eyes sparkled vibrantly, and his mouth was set in a genuine readiness to smile. He looked at this woman with nothing less than adoration.
Audra’s attention skipped across Alvin’s face with an uneasy acknowledgment. She then stared at Josie. “I’ve just come from the Bates house to visit my sister. Mr. Taylor would like you to know—” She frowned. “His aunt is dead.”
Chapter Sixteen
Braham walked the minister to the side entrance of the church, thanking him for arriving at his home at such an early hour. The man’s prayers were the last words to echo through the room before Aunt Myrtle’s final breath.
“She would not have had it any other way.” Braham dipped his chin as Reverend Lively shook his hand. “I’ll credit you for her peaceful departure.”
“Ah, you should credit Someone greater than I. I am only acting in obedience.” He winked then patted Braham’s shoulder before disappearing inside the church.
Braham stuck his hands in his pockets and looked around as he shoveled air in his chest. Everything seemed dull—the green leaves were gray, the crisp air was flat. He may have never felt as alone as he did this day. His belonging was null and void as the last two Bateses breathed their last. All family was gone now—at least the family who wanted him around.
He stepped into the main street, not feeling like attending a church service. Something about these past days irritated him. Everything had gone so quickly. Why had he been so caught up in the factory when Aunt Myrtle was so close to the end?
Braham hit the side of his cart. His horse whinnied. “Sorry, boy.”
The church bells began to call to the waking village. The church attendant emerged from the arched door and began to sweep the porch. Braham hurried up onto the bench, not wanting to be caught by the steady stream of folks heading to church. Yet, there was one person who did not know about his aunt.
No matter how much he did not want to face the woman, he had to let her know. Braham turned down Mosgrove Way and stopped along the wooden fence. The high gabled roof and ivy-covered brick cottage was smaller than he remembered. He approached the door, and the scent of medicinal potions hung in the air as if a cloud of the stuff permeated through the walls. He slowed his pace when he heard muffled voices. The voices grew louder, and before he could slink back and avoid an encounter, the door opened.
Miss Young gaped at him, her eyes red and a handkerchief to her mouth. She dropped her hand. “So, I am the last one to know?”
“What do you mean?” His every muscle stiffened as usual around this woman.
“Even a mill girl knew about Aunt Myrtle.” She stepped back, and Josie appeared. “A simple mill girl! You sent Audra to tell her and not me?”
Braham only stared at Josie. “Miss Clay? I—I didn’t expect—”
“Pardon me, Mr. Taylor,” Josie muttered as she stepped through the doorway. “I was collecting an elixir for little Liesl, the bobbin girl.” Her glassy eyes wobbled as she approached him. “I am so very sorry for your loss.” An uneven flush spread across her cheeks, and she began to weep in her arm as she pushed past him.
Miss Young rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “She’s a sweet thing, but I don’t know why she is so upset over a woman she hardly knows.” Daisy sniffled and picked at the lace trim of her handkerchief. Her lip trembled, and she also began to weep.
“Grief is grief,” Braham snapped. “You of all people should know that.” He spoke harsher than he should, but Daisy had the same coldness as Gerald. Just like they had made Braham feel the size of a fly at times, Daisy’s words had painted Josie as insignificant and unworthy.
He spun on his heel and ran down the path, catching the gate just before it slammed shut behind Josie. She hurried down the lane.
“Josie—Miss Clay?”
The woman paused then turned her head. “Please, sir, I apologize for my outburst. It’s just … just so much.” She continued at a quicker pace. Before she got to Main Street, Braham caught up with her, placing a careful hand on her arm before she turned the corner.
“I am so very sorry for your loss.” Josie held a handkerchief to her mouth, her long lashes lowered beneath the shadow of her bonnet.
“Thank you.” Braham pressed his lips together, the word loss spinning like a bobbin in his heart. “I am sorry that you only spent these last days with her. I believe you two would have been good friends.”
She caught a sob in her handkerchief. “You do not know me at all.” She finally looked at him. Her blue eyes were tinged pink, clouded with anguish more than sorrow. “I am only a mill girl, as Miss Young said. It is all I want to be.” Placing her hand on his arm, she leaned in. “Truly. I want that more than anything in the world. But—” She pressed her lips together.
“But what?” He laid his hand on hers; his pulse sped up past the grief. With Josie by his side, his loss was not seared by loneliness. She was the only person left whom he might depend on. The only person with whom he had been himself. “You are more than an employee, Miss Clay. You have become a friend to me.”
A smile barely tipped at her mouth’s corners but then dropped into a frown. She shook her head slowly as she pulled her hand away from his. “Oh Braham. If only I could be your friend.” She placed her gloved fingertips on his cheek. “That is a wish that can never be met.” Her eyes filled with tears once again. “Please, do not follow me.” She brushed past him, leaving him just as alone as he ever was.
Josie ignored the women gawking at her as she passed them on their way to church. If she was questioned, at least she had good reason. Poor little Liesl had an ailing stomach, and Josie would care for her this morning with the elixir she and Miss Young had made. Josie had nearly made it across the canal before she was stopped. But it wasn’t a mill girl who caught her attention. It was her father.
He stood beside the rail of the bridge. His hands fiddled with the old pocket watch that his own father had given him, and his shirt was missing a button at the crest of his wide belly. He was disheveled like a man would be without the care and attention of a woman. Her throat ached, and she ran up to him. She threw her arms around his neck and began to cry in the coarse fabric of his work coat.
“Oh, my dear Josephine.” He pushed her away gently, a firm grasp on each of her shoulders.
She dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief. “Father, you are here. You look well.” His nose was pink and his cheeks filled with color. Yet his eyes held no cheer. They were dull, drooping with worry.
She swallowed past a lump in her throat. “How is the farm—”
His grip tightened, and he pulled her toward him. A thin layer of perspiration glistened across his forehead.
“Father—” she shrieked. His fingers pierced through her dress like dull knives. He let go and wrung his hands, a low groan erupting from his now trembling lips.
“I fear they
have taken my wits, Daughter.” His wild look frightened Josie.
She rubbed her arms and leaned against the bridge railing, not looking directly at him. “What have they done?”
“They mark each day that passes without a body with a bloody stake at the door.” He wiped his forehead. “They have stolen my feed and my stored vegetables too.”
“How dare they!” Josephine straightened up and looked around for Alvin. “This is enough, Father. Where is Alvin—”
“Alvin told me what you did,” he blurted. “Is it true, Josephine? Does the doctor hold both my freedom and your wages for ransom?”
“Oh Father,” she exclaimed, gathering together his shaking hands. “I had little choice. Alvin is ignoring the bargain he made with Chadwick.”
“Josephine, listen to me now.” He licked his lips. “You must not agree to anything without Alvin’s guidance.” His reprimand knifed at her guilt—and her resentment. “Anything. He knows more than you or I—”
“How could you have depended on such an income, Father?” Josie cried out. “All this time, we’ve been tied to that man and his wicked ways. And you hid it from me—and my mother.”
At the mention of her mother, her father’s shoulders drooped, and his bushy eyebrows tipped up. “It was for her,” he mumbled.
“Well then, just as you’ve told me before. There are consequences for our actions.” She bristled at his excuse. “And now look where we are.”
“Well, you’ve added salt to the consequence, haven’t you?” He licked his lips and wiped at his forehead again. “I fear the creditors will return.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but her father continued, “Now we are at the mercy of that doctor more than ever. You must do well tonight, Daughter.”
Her stomach soured. Josie was suddenly aware of the bottle in her pocket. She might need the elixir for herself. At least she’d been as forthcoming with Braham as she possibly could be. There was no possible way they could be friends. Not when Dr. Chadwick would receive his dear aunt’s body just across the bridge from his beloved factory.
Her father shifted his weight and sighed.
Lord, give me strength.
She walked past him. “Come, we’ll have breakfast, and I will gather some provisions for you to take home.”
She was stuck between two men—one whom she’d loved all her life, and one who stirred something inside her she’d never felt before. Her loyalty to one was an inevitable choice at the expense of the other. How could she choose between affection and her very own blood?
Josie waited for him to catch up and hooked her hand on his elbow. “This will soon be over, Father.”
The lantern swung from one hand, the lilacs hanging in the other. People abandoned the graveyard one by one as the darkening sky drank up the light of day. Soon, only Josie, Braham, and his servant were standing alone beside the coffin. Josie raised her eyes to the moss-covered tombstones in the older part of the cemetery. To her surprise, Alvin stood on the steps of the Gloughton tavern across from the cemetery’s main entrance. She had expected that he would not appear until the light had been extinguished.
Braham let out a jagged sigh. “Come, let us return home, Minnie. She’s to rest.” He shifted his weight, turning to Josie. “I thank you for coming … even if—” He lowered his head. Josie’s heart slumped at the distress she’d added to this man on Mosgrove Way. She’d convinced herself that ending their friendship was for his good. And it was, especially after hearing and seeing her father’s despair.
“Please, forgive me for my behavior yesterday morning, Mr. Taylor. This is your time to grieve—not mine.” There could be nothing between them. He would want it that way if he knew what was about to happen.
After a quiet that shook with tension, Braham spoke. “Will you join us for supper, Miss Clay? Not for me, but for my aunt? She would want you there.” His face was pale, his eyes weary. Josie’s heart tightened. She wanted to comfort him. If the outcome were different, her greatest desire would be to comfort this man.
“Please, Mr. Taylor. I’d like to stay here awhile longer.” She began to shiver.
Braham tilted his head. A question flashed in his eyes. “Come now, you are cold. It is time to go.” He took off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. Its warmth instantly relieved her shaking. This would not do. The longer they delayed, the worse this evening would drag on.
She put the lantern at her feet and returned the coat. “I would like some time to pray.”
Josie did not lie. She was desperate for peace.
“Very well.” Braham nodded to Minnie, and they began to leave, stepping away from the halo of the yellow lantern. “Do not stay too long,” he called out in the gloomy dusk.
Please don’t leave me.
Her soul cried after the man who had captured her heart. From the corner of her eye, Alvin slithered down to the bottom step of the stoop, his full body waiting just beyond the streetlamp. She stood in the lantern’s glow while he was hidden by darkness.
This man made her heart recoil.
Yet he was the door to her family’s freedom from this work. She ground her teeth and tried to soothe herself with a fragrant inhale of lilacs and soil. So much life filled her senses as she preyed on death. She remembered her mother’s lessons on the different parts of the plants that were useful. Josie treasured the time spent among Mother’s dried herbs, still emitting the aroma of growing plants yet useful in their lifeless stems and withered leaves. They would bring healing and goodness.
Bile filled her throat.
Josie’s eyes blurred as she stared at the wooden box at her feet. This deed would be abhorred by those who loved this woman. Braham would be disgusted at such a crime. It wasn’t worth it, was it? For what? Money, a farm? Was there no other way?
The lantern’s flame flickered, yet it continued to cast a steady safe haven for Josie and Aunt Myrtle’s grave. The light was literally a lamp at her feet. Her heart leapt. She nearly smiled behind her black veil.
Her spirit filled with the knowledge of the only way now.
“Wait!” she called to Braham, who was just beyond the cemetery gate.
He spun around. “What is it, Miss Clay?” He turned to Minnie and motioned for her to go ahead. Josie left the lamp and rushed over to him. Alvin shrunk back up the steps and beneath the dark overhang.
Holding her lips as perfectly still as she could manage, Josie whispered to Braham, “Please, don’t leave me.” She could not think fast enough, but once the gravedigger arrived and she extinguished the lantern, she’d never face Braham again. Perhaps not even her own self.
Josie returned to the gravesite and knelt on the cool earth.
Braham followed, crouching beside her. “Why must you stay?” The same skepticism simmered in his stare as the first night they met. She had pushed him away earlier today, and now he put up his own guard. That was wise of him.
“Please, sir.” She folded her hands in her lap and spoke quietly, “I worry.”
“Worry?”
“In my village, there were thieves in the night.” A sharp breeze cut through her and bumps pricked her skin. She leaned close to his ear. “Body snatchers.”
Saying the words strangled her throat. She was a deceiver through and through. The lantern’s flame swelled though, and the heavens seemed to shine bright with stars.
She was a child of light, not darkness.
Braham examined her with a serious look. He asked, “What do you mean—”
Josie put her finger to his lips. “Shh. If there are thieves about, they might be listening.” She moved her hand away quickly, the supple warmth of his mouth lingering on her skin.
Minnie called out, “Sir, the carriage is waiting.”
Braham’s attention on Josie was as vibrant and steady as the lantern’s glow. A new energy emanated from his pitiful state of mourning. Without looking away from Josie, he replied, “Go home without me, Minnie.” He slid his finger along his coll
ar, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “Miss Clay and I shall pray together.”
Josie turned to the gravesite, biting the inside of her cheek. Braham neared her. Her nerves frenzied now. Her rebellion against the devious plan sparked intrigue. The handsome Braham Taylor was beside her. She was not alone, and the flame would continue on, brightening the night she had dreaded these past weeks. There might not be another chance again, with the terrible network’s threats more pressing than even withheld wages. But for now, she’d deter the chance of bearing shame every time she saw Braham Taylor. With him, her conscience would remain as white as snow. No, there was no deceit now, just a blooming comradery—a praying partnership.
Before they could bow and pray, the gravedigger approached with his spade. A pipe hung from his lips. After his word of condolence, they stood to give him room.
Braham took her hand and they sat together on a nearby bench. The lamp rested in plain view beside a tombstone. Its yellow glow bounced from the stone to the blades of grass and gently lit up the profile of the man beside her.
The dirt thumped against the box, and the spicy smoke from the pipe mingled with the scent of disturbed earth. Braham did not release her hand but held her tight. Josie lowered her head and prayed, sensing God was nearer to her than He had been in a very long time.
The thumps of soil continued. Her heart fell more and more prostrate.
When Braham’s arm brushed hers she looked up. His cheek glistened with moisture. The off-putting incense of the smoking man carried upward to the heavens, racing Braham’s prayers to the footstool of the Lord.
Josie continued to pray, tightening her grip on Braham’s hand and ignoring her accomplice beyond the fence who was no doubt fuming.
God would make all things right in this night when darkness plotted. For this one foiled grave robbing, light would prevail.
Chapter Seventeen
Braham opened his eyes to the graying dawn. His arms were wrapped around the sleeping Josie Clay, droplets of dew shimmering on her black skirt. Her head was tucked between his shoulder and neck, and her soft breaths warmed his skin. A mourning dove sang out over the graveyard. The residual sorrow from yesterday’s funeral sat thick in his throat, soothed only by the perfect fit of the girl slumbering by his side.
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