“We’ll manage,” he said. “A couple days will not cause too much suffering. This time of year, our cotton supply is limited anyway. And fortunately, it is Friday. The women will have Sunday to recover as well.”
Josie marched to the garden gate instead of the front door and held it open for him. He passed through, hesitating as his arm brushed hers. He glanced down at her.
She did not look directly up at him. “You are a good manager, Mr. Taylor.” Her lips were as red as a summer strawberry.
“And you are a good friend.” His whisper moved a golden strand of hair from beneath her bonnet.
She lifted her eyes and searched his. Her color returned to her cheeks. “This is the least I can do. You are too kind,” she muttered, dropping her gaze to his lips but shifting her weight as if she would abandon him in this tender moment. He’d not let her. Without considering any consequence, he leaned over the basket between them and softly pressed his lips on hers. She kissed him back, the sweet taste of peppermint tempting him to linger longer than he should. His chest exploded with warmth, and his heart thrummed, knowing that this woman was more than just a mill girl to him. What had life been before she’d arrived to Gloughton? Josie sighed softly. If this basket wasn’t between them, he’d wrap his arms around her. The woman who’d arrived at the most inconvenient time weeks ago was filling up a space in Braham’s heart that he hadn’t realized was empty.
He gently pulled away and pressed his forehead to hers. Her eyes were closed as he whispered, “Josie Clay, where would we be without you?” He kissed the tip of her nose.
Her lashes fluttered, and her sapphire eyes grew round. She shook her head and stepped back. “Oh Braham, please, do not think so much of me. I am—” Pushing past him, she took the basket from his arms. “Please, do not follow me.” She walked away quickly, the bottles clinking with each footstep, adding to his aggravation.
“You are what?” he called out.
She did not stop but continued into the dim kitchen. The sound of bells stopped him from following her inside. ’Twas eight o’clock, and his duty to the factory must not be delayed any longer.
While the factory remained quiet at the noon meal, Braham chose to stay in his office instead of returning to the empty Bates estate. This would be the first day since he began at the factory that he would not dine with Aunt Myrtle.
He unfolded a napkin that held a hard piece of bread, some berries, and a block of cheese. This was not much different than the rations they’d received on the plantation. Yet, even during those days, he was never as alone as he was now.
Josie’s recoil at his kiss soured any contentment he had found in working today. He ate with little zeal until he could not take another bite. He pushed away from his desk and headed outside.
The day had no chill about it. Braham rolled up his sleeves and soaked in the sunshine. He took long strides across the courtyard to the bridge and then strolled beside the cemetery fence, keenly aware of the distance growing between himself and the garden—and Josie.
Without considering his next step, he turned into the graveyard and soon found himself standing over Aunt Myrtle’s grave. Beside hers, Mr. Bates Sr.’s tombstone read “Loving Father.” If Braham had any say in the arrangements that day months ago, he would have included “Uncle” as well. He could nearly hear Gerald snarl, “More loving uncle than father.”
Braham sat on the bench where he and Josie had spent the evening and took in the peace of this place. Soft billowy lilac flowers hung over the fence close to his aunt’s grave, dusting the air with their perfume. Dappled light danced upon the resting places of the many graves—a promise of life even amid eternal slumber.
Peace found him at last in the tranquil day. He regained his appetite and decided to finish his lunch before the factory started up again. Bidding farewell to the souls who made him the man he was, he returned down the path to the bridge and walked in haste toward the red-bricked building.
The girls filed across the courtyard. He fell back and waited. Audra and Josie were the last to leave the boardinghouse. He ran up behind them, wondering how the ill women were faring. The two women seemed to be in deep conversation. Braham slowed his pace.
Josie’s words were close to begging. “You’ve got to let everyone know you are with Alvin. I do not want any more attention than I’ve gotten already.”
Audra turned to Josie. Her lips barely moved as she spoke. “I am not any longer. Broke it off that night of the funeral. Probably why he went off like he did, drunk as ever, getting himself in trouble.”
Josie gaped at her. “You know—” She saw Braham and swiveled toward him. “Mr. Taylor. I did not know you were there.”
He gave each woman a cordial grin. “I apologize for sneaking up on you. It appears that I am running a bit late.”
Audra tucked an auburn strand into her bonnet and stepped aside. “Well then, you better go ahead of us. You have more at stake than we do.” She smirked. “What with running an entire factory and all.”
His throat tightened. Audra and her sister, Minnie, had seen Braham rise from the poor orphan down south to the businessman in Gloughton. He never cared for Audra’s biting intentions hidden in seemingly general terms around unknowing folk.
Audra feigned knowing more than she should as a simple factory girl. Perhaps because she was another soul saved by the late Mr. Bates. Minnie and Audra were scooped up as children—orphans needing a place in this world—and assimilated to the Bates household as well-cared-for servants. Neither of the sisters had received such a rise to position as Braham. Every remark from the elder sister, Audra, was laced with bitterness. Braham had won more favor than she ever would. And, unlike Braham, who’d gained the elder Bateses’ attention when he arrived at Terryhold, Audra did not receive one bit of attention from Mr. Bates or Aunt Myrtle. Aunt Myrtle despised the thought of raising girls and assigned Minnie to household duties and ushered Audra to the factory floor as quickly as she could. Even if Audra was never kind, Braham did feel sorry for her. He ignored her attitude toward him as best as he could.
“Miss Jennings, you may go ahead. I must ask Miss Clay about the absent women today.” He motioned with a wave of his arm, trying his best not to scowl at the woman. She stuck her nose up and strode away. He was perplexed by the conversation he’d overheard. Audra had been seeing Alvin?
Well, that might explain another reason why the man kept showing up around Gloughton.
A thread of sympathy for that man, caught up in Audra Jennings’s heartstrings, wound its way into Braham’s thoughts before he caught Josie’s quizzical look.
“Well?” He clasped his hands behind his back. “How are the patients?”
“I have given each woman their portion. I expect their stomachs will have settled by this evening.”
“Good.” He rocked on his heels, wondering if her embarrassment earlier had to do with the rumor she’d mentioned to Audra. He had not heard such a rumor. “I want you to know that rumors around here are just that—rumors. Most folk do not take them to heart—” He swallowed hard. “I do not take them to heart. If that is why you were so upset—”
She folded her lips together and smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Taylor.” A sorrowful lift of her brow spoke more than her words. He wondered if she regretted their last encounter, yet the gloom that filled her eyes made him suspect there was something deeper perplexing her. Why was she adamant that Braham thought too much of her?
He tried to gather words that would keep her close and not cause her to run. But Josie’s sadness turned to serious consideration, and she said, “Of all the folks here in Gloughton, I am truly thankful that you do not take any rumor to heart.” She placed her hand on his chest, reached up on her toes, and kissed him on the cheek.
Before he could say or do anything, she left his side for the second time today.
Fawna was frantic, once again, when she met Josie in the foyer at the end of the day. “You must come quick. The women are worse th
an before.”
Josie did not catch her bonnet as it fell to the floor. She left it as she rushed up the stairs. “I administered the elixir myself. How could they be worse?” she exclaimed.
“They’ve been sleeping the afternoon away.”
“That is good. They need rest.”
“Yes, but now they are awake, saying their stomachs are on fire.” She was at Josie’s heels. “Perhaps we should call for a doctor. The closest one is twenty miles away. We would have to ask Mr. Taylor to hire the fastest messenger.”
“That might be a good idea.” Josie was thankful Dr. Chadwick’s reach was not as close as the nearest doctor. She hurried to the rooms on the second floor. The ladies were in much pain, holding their stomachs, perspiration glistening on their foreheads.
“Here, try some more. You must try.” Josie held up a spoon of the elixir to Molly O’Leary, whose face was screwed up tightly as she groaned.
“Why should I trust you?” Molly gave Josie a hateful stare.
“Trust me?”
“You took offense to my sharing the rumor about that man. Audra said you were livid. How do I know that you aren’t playing a trick on us with poison and not medicine? I’ve heard of such a thing.”
“I am not that kind of person,” Josie snapped. “Besides, Audra exaggerates. We all know that.” Why would Audra stir up more gossip? She was the person who had been with Alvin. Did she use Josie to take eyes off her? Josie pushed away the dread of Audra sharing more than lies about her but the very truth.
Molly kept her weary eyes on Josie. She was not well at all. Josie softened her tone. “I promise, Molly. My roommates are well enough to sit up and read without an ounce of pain. They benefited greatly from this elixir. The apothecary even helped.”
Molly glowered, gasped, and jerked her body forward. “Please, make it stop.”
Quickly, Molly gulped the elixir down. She pressed her head against her pillow and began to breathe in and out, long and hard.
Josie placed the back of her hand on Molly’s forehead. “You have no fever. That is good.” Molly turned her head away and closed her eyes, continuing with her hard breathing.
After Josie gave the elixir to the rest of the women, she checked on her roommates. Their bright eyes and rosy cheeks shone from behind their books. Josie wished she could show their good health to the ill women and bring them a little hope in their recovery.
After a tense evening helping the girls, Josie retired and fell into a restless sleep. In the middle of the night, she was shaken awake.
Fawna’s eyes were wide beneath her bed cap. “They are worse even still. I’ve sent for the doctor, but I doubt he will come in the middle of the night over aching stomachs. Is there nothing we can do now?”
Josie sat up. “I will get Miss Young. Perhaps she’ll know better than I.” She dressed and hurried out into the midnight hour.
Creeping about at night did not frighten Josie as much as it had as a child. Even though the owl’s hoot shook her nerves, and her boots echoed sharply between the buildings of Main Street, she was not afraid. Perhaps being part of such dark schemes as she had been stole away the fright of being surrounded by it. The thought horrified her. She prayed the rest of the way to Miss Young’s.
Please, Lord, let no darkness come upon me. Show me Your light.
She recalled the lantern at her feet that brightened her decision at Aunt Myrtle’s grave, and the security of Braham’s embrace during that pivotal night. She lifted her fingers to her lips, unable to hold back a smile. As she continued down Main, recalling Braham’s warm breath on her skin and the taste of his lips on hers, her head fell back and she gazed up at the star-filled sky with a quiet laugh of wonder.
Her reflection in a shop window caught her eye. She rolled her eyes at herself, but her smile remained. How she wished she hadn’t walked away from him at the garden gate yesterday. The regret had niggled at her as she ate the noon meal. And then in the courtyard, he tried to assure her that he thought well of her regardless of rumors. How could he be so caring when she had turned away from him hours before? Josie had melted right there in the courtyard, just the same as when he kissed her. That kiss would never be forgotten. No matter how uncertain the future might be for Josie Clay, she’d coddle that moment like a treasure, hidden away for only her to wonder at when the world grew dim. She’d stolen some goodness for herself during this grim season—or more accurately, Braham had offered it to her in the sweetest of ways. Josie almost believed she was toeing the edge of some certain providence with Braham Taylor’s eager kiss and affirming words. Was she deserving of the attention at all?
A prayer burst in her heart that God’s mercy would let it be so.
Josie turned down Mosgrove Way, now unaware of the darkness at all.
She knocked three times on Daisy’s door before she opened it. Once Josie was inside, she put down her lantern and untied her bonnet. “We must figure out something more to give the girls. They are complaining of pain.”
“I do hope it’s not catching. Perhaps they are ill with something bigger than we can soothe.” Daisy fiddled with her braids as she led the way to the kitchen.
“I do not know, but we must try.” Josie took to the mortar and pestle while Daisy lit the fire for the extractions.
As she ground the colic root, Josie considered all that had occurred. Molly had accused her of ill-doing without any evidence. A shiver passed through her. What if she had made a mistake and given them something harmful? However, the elixir had worked for her roommates. Sometimes a remedy could affect a patient differently than another though.
“Daisy,” she said, “be sure that you check every item I include. You are wiser than I am in all of this. I do not want to make a mistake.”
What if she already had?
Chapter Twenty
Josie arrived at the house with a new batch of elixir carefully made. Fawna was sitting on the top stair with her elbow planted on her knee and her hand to her cheek.
“How do they fare?” Josie tried to keep the bottles from clinking too loudly as she held her lamp in one hand and her arms wrapped around the basket.
“They are all asleep now,” Fawna muttered. “I will not have this, Miss Clay. This is not a hospital. The girls who are well are worried about catching their illness. They must get rest, but their sleep is disturbed by the wailing of the others.”
Josie sat beside her. “They seem quiet now.” Only the clock in the common room could be heard ticking the early morning seconds away.
“They’re exhausted. The ill girls have come down with the shakes.” Fawna pulled at her cheeks and rubbed her eyes. “I fear the worst, Miss Clay.”
“The worst?” Josie gasped. “No, they are not that bad off—no fever. Trust me, I’ve seen death. This is not that.” At least, not yet. Josie grimaced but tried to remain reasonable. “This illness will just have to pass.”
Fawna stood up. “How long?”
“Hopefully, they will be better by Sunday once they’ve had the elixir.” Josie followed her across the hall to the nearest bedroom. She placed the lamp and basket of bottles on the sideboard next to the door.
Fawna put her ear to the door. “Nobody is stirring.” She sighed.
“I will wake them and give them this—” Josie lifted a couple of bottles from the basket.
“No, you will not!” Fawna hissed. “They’ve kept everyone up well into the night. We’ll not wake anyone earlier than they must get up.”
“But Fawna, we have to get them well—the sooner they take it—”
The woman held up her hand. “I shall give it to them in the morning. Go to bed, Miss Clay.”
A door creaked open, and Audra appeared. “What is this? We are trying to sleep, you two.”
Fawna shooed Josie toward the stairs, shoving her lamp in her hands. The matron then rushed over to Audra, ushering her back into her room.
Fawna gave Josie a sharp look and whispered with great force across the c
ommon area, “We shall wait for the doctor and see what he says. If they are not well by Sunday, then I am sending them home.”
Josie gave a curt nod, disagreeing with the woman’s drastic measure. “Please wake me when the girls are ready for their dose. I am certain they will recover nicely.”
Was she sure though? She eyed the basket sitting in the dark hallway just before slipping up the stairs. The mixture was good. The three recovered women were proof.
Josie prayed for all to be well again.
But the morning came with another hand shaking her furiously awake. The maid Abigail stood over her. “Miss, the doctor’s come and gone. All the girls are worse than ever.”
Josie threw her bedcover back. Liesl was not there, neither were the sisters. “What is the time?”
“It is half past six. Mr. Taylor is down in the parlor with Miss Fawna. They want you to come there immediately.”
“Why did they not wake me?” She hurried to get dressed while Abigail explained that Miss Fawna presumed the doctor would know better, so she let Josie sleep. But the man was befuddled by the girls’ symptoms.
“Did they feel any better when they woke up?” Josie quickly pulled her dress on.
“No, they are weak. Can hardly speak.”
“What? It is only a stomach malady,” Josie exclaimed. Abigail turned her around to button the back of her dress. The maid quickly braided Josie’s hair while Josie laced her boots.
They hurried down the stairs. As they turned the landing on the second floor, Josie spied the basket of elixir sitting where she’d left it last night.
“Abigail, did the women take the elixir?”
“I do not know. The doctor came just as they awoke.”
Josie placed her hand on Abigail’s arm. “Please, take it to them. See if you can get them to drink.” The girl shook her head at first, but Josie insisted with a firm nod and a nudge for her to go.
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