Tapestry Of Tamar

by Reece, Colleen L.

  Gordon glanced up from the piles of paper on his desk, his mind still on upcoming cases. Hood’s first words, however, drove out all thought of even the most pressing duties.

  “I’ve failed.”

  Gordon gasped. The look of misery on his secretary’s face showed he didn’t speak lightly. “You mean about finding Miss O’Donnell?”

  Hood nodded and bit his lip, obviously perturbed. “Unless she’s left San Francisco, she’s better at hiding than I am at finding her.” He spread his hands in a helpless gesture totally unlike his usual calm approach to the daily routine. “I followed up on your hunch she might pull a double double cross and contact her brother Richard, which I believe she did. I hotfooted it to his boarding school and could tell by the way he buttoned his lip that he knew something. He would have undergone an inquisition before telling me anything though.” A sheepish grin of admiration lightened his gloom. “Had to respect the kid. Anyway, I talked myself hoarse promising him we had Carlos’s word Tamar wouldn’t be hounded into marriage if she came back. The little devil raised one eyebrow and said, ‘If I happen to hear from her, I’ll pass on what you say.’ ” Hood’s imitation brought a smile to Gordon’s lips.

  “Since then, nothing. If any of the elite had hired a music teacher, the servants would know. I’ve talked with them all, in addition to visiting the different schools that include musical instruction. No young lady with red-gold hair and dark eyes has even applied.”

  “What do we do now?” Gordon caught some of his secretary’s heavy mood and his heart sank. He thought of the innocent girl alone and with dwindling funds, and his indignation against Phillip Carlin and Lorraine O’Donnell flared still hotter.

  Perhaps that same indignation put new spirit into Hood. The younger man crossed his legs and a slow smile crossed his features. “We wait. Two hundred dollars can’t keep her forever. Sooner or later, Miss Tamar O’Donnell is going to have to creep out from her hidey-hole and find work. When she does, we’ll find her.”

  five

  Tamar had left the solicitor’s office feeling like a thief and despising herself for it. Mother and Father had left her the money, had they not? When the heavy fog lifted, so did her spirits, giving her the courage to march straight to the bank and cash her inheritance.

  The friendly cashier almost proved to be her undoing. He counted out bills in cadence with a running monologue about her upcoming wedding, proud he recognized her from the rotogravures that had heralded the Carlin-O’Donnell nuptials.

  “If ’twas me getting married and being a pretty young lady, I’d tuck this away as a nest egg,” he babbled and failed to see her involuntary start. “Never know when a body will need to have a bit put aside of their own.”

  “Thank you,” Tamar quietly said and slipped the money deep into her woven Mexican bag. As soon as she could get to a private place, she would hide the money in her garments. She forced herself to give the cashier a dazzling smile. “I might just take your advice.”

  She turned away, aware that his gaze followed her. Her heart thumped. The cashier would remember her, but she felt certain he would offer little information to those who came seeking her. She had seen the combination of wariness and sympathy in his eyes and wondered if his well-meaning comments were merely friendliness. Perhaps they were based instead on personal knowledge of Phillip-with-two-l’s. She shrugged. What difference did it make? She had funds to keep her until she had time to find a plan.

  First she must contact Dick. Her lips curved in a smile. Now that she’d escaped the oppressive Nob Hill mansion, life lay ahead as an adventure. Her part was to outguess her brother and Lorraine, Phillip, and anyone else who might trail her. They wouldn’t believe she would dare to get in touch with Dick. Still, she must be careful.

  A few hours later, tucked in a clean but plain second-story room in an obscure boarding house, Tamar struggled over a message that would tell Dick everything but others nothing. Her fingers ink-stained, she at last sat back and reread her epistle.

  Dear Dick,

  The bird you love flew out of the cage today. There’s little chance of finding it, for it’s sure to seek a nest of its own choosing. Don’t worry about it—the wings were never clipped, and now it can sing with joy.

  She left it unsigned. Dick knew her middle name was Joy and would understand the symbolism of the rest of the note. She could imagine his wide grin when he read it and the way his black eyes would snap when he destroyed the seemingly harmless lines. Tamar sealed the note in an envelope, printed an address, and rode on a cable car to the end of the line before disembarking. She idled along an unfamiliar street to where she could post her note without attracting attention. She caught another car back but made sure to get off several blocks from her new boarding place. A lump of loneliness in her throat, she crept back to her barren room and threw herself on the bed, determined to plan her course of action.

  Tamar hadn’t reckoned with the need her healthy young body had for sleep. The night before she had been too busy to close her eyes, and now the release from strain tugged at her eyelids. “I’ll sleep just a few minutes and. . . .”

  She awoke to growing darkness and the kindly voice of her landlady calling, “Miss Darnell? Supper in fifteen minutes.”

  Darnell? Tamar struggled up through fathoms of sleep. Whose voice called, and why did it say Darnell? Bewildered, still half asleep, a hasty glance around the unfamiliar room brought it all back. Tamar O’Donnell was now Joy Darnell, alone and friendless in a rented room.

  No, not alone and not friendless. A verse learned at her mother’s knee whispered in the weary girl’s heart, I will be with thee, I will not fail thee nor forsake thee. A rush of tears threatened. “God, are You here?” She hadn’t really prayed since the train wreck. Now she slipped off the bed and to her knees. “Thank You for helping me this far. Please don’t leave me. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  She remained still for a moment, then got up and surveyed her meager wardrobe. A small smile brightened her face as she remembered how she had stowed her black clothing under a low-hanging tree, then claimed her inheritance wearing the green voile. She had worn it to the bank as well, then slipped behind thick branches and reappeared in her “crow” costume.

  Now, her white waist and long dark skirt would do. She pulled her hair severely back and covered it with the hated veil. The black cloth dimmed her hair’s gleam.

  To her relief, Tamar found that the boarding house table held ample and well-cooked food. She was even more relieved that the widowed landlady made no effort to quiz her, and neither did the other boarders. If they wondered at her youth, they kept it to themselves, and “Joy Darnell” slipped into their midst with less effect than a small pebble tossed in a pond.

  Each morning Tamar left the boarding place, spent the day walking and thinking, then returned about the same time as the others, who all had jobs. She smiled a lot and said little. Even when the kind landlady patted her shoulder and remarked how nice it was to have her there, Tamar only smiled.

  A week passed. Two. Tamar faced a major decision. Should she pay for another fortnight? She’d been forced to make a few purchases and the money was growing low. She must work, but where? Finally, after much prayer, she boldly went to her landlady.

  “I need a position,” she said. “Could you write me a recommendation?”

  “Of course, child. But why don’t you get one from your present employers?” The good-hearted lady’s brow wrinkled.

  “I—I can’t.” She twisted her hands then looked up. “You see, the circumstances—”

  “Don’t say another word. I understand. Good girls like yourself don’t have it easy in today’s world. I’ll wager you’re running from some worthless man.”

  “In a way.” She hated having to skirt the truth.

  “What would you like to do? Care for children? Just this morning o
ne of my ladies said she heard that Mrs. Wilson is frantic. She and her husband were all set for a trip and their children’s companion quit without notice. The Wilsons need someone to look after four-year-old Dora and Donald—they’re twins.” She stopped talking long enough to rummage in a pile of papers until she found a clean sheet. “Let’s see.” She read aloud as she wrote, “Miss Darnell is a perfect lady and her character is beyond reproach. Anyone fortunate enough to have her in their home will rejoice over her gentility and quality.” She signed it with a flourish, blew on it until the ink dried, then tucked it in an envelope. “This will do, I think, but I’m sorry to have you go.”

  “I must.” Tamar bit her lip.

  “You’ll let me hear from you—and if things don’t go right with the Wilsons, you come right back, you hear?”

  “Thank you.” She clutched the precious recommendation. No need to ask where the Wilsons lived. One of the newcomers to Nob Hill, they had purchased and refurbished a large mansion several blocks away from the O’Donnells. Did she dare work there? Why not? Though she knew of Mrs. Wilson, she had never met her—and the last place Carlos or Lorraine would seek for her would be in the nursery of a home in their own neighborhood.

  She thought of the wealth of trousseau clothes she had left behind and sighed. Being limited to what she had been able to bring with her had its drawbacks. She had been forced to buy a second waist to go with her dark skirt—but wouldn’t children prefer to see something lighter? Tamar sighed. Perhaps by summer she could get a position farther away and dare to wear her green voile—but not now. “Some bright ribbon will help,” she decided. “I can make rosettes and wear them for color.” With a prayer for help, she tremulously made her way to the Wilsons.

  “What a godsend,” fluffy little Mrs. Wilson gasped. She barely read the recommendation, fired a dozen questions concerning Tamar’s experience with children, and fortunately didn’t wait for answers, then wound up in the nursery where two placid cherubs with flaxen hair and blue eyes played quietly with their toys. When their mother announced that Miss Darnell would be their new companion, their lack of surprise told Tamar she was neither the first nor would she be the last newcomer.

  “And I’m sure you’ll have a perfectly lovely time together,” Mrs. Wilson concluded. “Miss Darnell, your meals will be served up here with the children’s.” She laughed nervously. “After all, a children’s companion is a step above the servants, although of course you won’t be served with the rest of the family.”

  Tamar wanted to laugh. How stunned her new employer would be if she knew she had delegated Carlos O’Donnell’s sister to eat in the nursery! Amused at the snobbish but inflexible rule, she murmured, “Of course.” The less she had to do with the other adults in the house, the less chance there would be that someone might recognize her. Dora and Donald would give her some companionship, and the library she passed with Mrs. Wilson would keep her well occupied during any leisure hours.

  Mrs. Wilson noticed her glance through the library’s open doors. “Feel free to read anything you like,” she invited. “When we return, you’ll need to be careful not to disturb my husband when he is in the library. But for the next few months, you may go in any time.”

  Again Tamar felt like laughing at the pretentious little woman who could be so insulting and never know it.

  “Now, how soon can you come? Today?”

  Tamar hesitated. They hadn’t discussed money. She swallowed her O’Donnell pride and asked, “What is the remuneration?”

  Mrs. Wilson glanced at the patrician chin above the plain black cloak, the steady eyes, then named a figure a good deal higher than Tamar had expected. She paused to silently thank the heavenly Father she was learning to rely on.

  The society woman evidently mistook her hesitation for a bid for a higher wage. “You understand this is just for the time we’ll be gone. Once we get back, if everything has gone satisfactorily—which of course it will—we will raise the figure by ten dollars a month.”

  Red flags flew in Tamar’s cheeks, but she simply nodded and said, “I will go for my things and return this afternoon.”

  “Can’t we send for them?’

  Tamar felt a little thrill. Mrs. Wilson didn’t want her to get away. After Lorraine’s coldness, Tamar was warmed by the knowledge that someone wanted her. “I promise I’ll come.”

  Relief made the little woman more fluttery than ever. “Good. We’ll expect you. You’ll have the room next to the children’s and share their bathroom. You won’t have to do any cleaning, just be with the children. We’ll arrange for the second maid to relieve you one afternoon a week and on Sunday morning, if you care to attend church.” She actually accompanied her new children’s companion to the door. “Miss Darnell, I truly believe Divine Providence has led you to us in our hour of need.” She clapped her hands.

  “I do, too, Mrs. Wilson.” Tamar thought about it all the way to her boarding house. She had no experience with God arranging people’s lives and yet, at least so far, things had turned out well for her.

  The Wilsons departed the next day, and Tamar began her new position. “What do you like to do?” she asked Dora and Donald.

  “Whatever you do,” they told her.

  “Then what are some of the things your other companions had you do?” she asked, determined to get beneath their calm surface. Even her meager experience with four-year-olds told her these two were unusually well-behaved—or were they cowed?

  Eventually, Dora and Donald, reassured by her genuine concern, confided that their previous companions had simply parked the children in the nursery, told them to play with their toys, then settled down with books that Tamar suspected were trashy novels.

  “We’re going to be different,” she announced. Four blue eyes sparkled when she counted off on her fingers the games they would play, the walks they would take, and the simple lessons they would learn. Tamar drew on the store of her own rich childhood for ideas. Busy as they were, Mother and Father still had taken time to play with her and teach her about the wonderful world. As a result, she was able to make Dora’s and Donald’s faces grow rosy with color. Their childish laughter livened up the mansion until even the servants joined in the plans to make their dwelling place happy.

  “She’s a dandy, she is.” The cook put their feelings into words. “Never looks down her pretty nose. Never asks a thing for herself, just a picnic lunch for the children sometimes.” She sniffed. “Too good to last. We’ll never keep that one. Not like the others, a pox on them, mealy-mouthed and holding too good an opinion of themselves as what aren’t no better than the rest of us.”

  Tamar had been coming toward the kitchen but stopped at the first words. She stuffed her hand in her mouth and tiptoed back to her own room before the giggles exploded. Nob Hill society might be scandalized by Tamar O’Donnell’s leaving Phillip at the altar, but Nob Hill servants had taken Miss Darnell to their hearts.

  October became November and then in turn December. In spite of an ever-present ache in her heart, Tamar managed to be content with the children. She tactfully handled a potentially sticky situation when Dora sighed and said, “With Mummy and Daddy gone, we won’t have a Christmas.”

  “Won’t have Christmas,” Donald added, blue eyes sad.

  The children’s passive acceptance of their parents’ neglect went straight to Tamar’s heart. Visions of her own happy holidays set her smiling lips into a determined line. “We’ll see about it,” she told the children in her most mysterious voice. “Now run along for your naps.” She thrilled when four chubby arms grabbed her and soft lips pressed her cheeks. In the weeks since she came to the Wilsons, she had learned to love Dora and Donald. Now she considered for a moment, then timidly walked downstairs and entered the kitchen.

  The cook looked up with a smile. “Is it a picnic lunch you’ll be wanting, miss?” A bevy of servants also
smiled at her.

  Tamar shook her head. “No, I need to ask you about Christmas. Did the Wilsons make any arrangements?”

  “Just to see that there’s a good dinner ready before we go to our own families,” the cook said. “If it’s all right with you, we thought we could serve Christmas dinner early, perhaps even at three or four o’clock?” The faces turned toward Tamar showed longing for a little extra time for merrymaking.

  “Why can’t we have our main meal right at noon?” Tamar impulsively suggested. “That way you can clear away and have the rest of the day free.” She cocked her head and added, “I’m sure there will be plenty of food left, and the twins and I will raid the pantry for supper.”

  Loud cries of approval encouraged Tamar to go on. “If it isn’t too much trouble, do you think we could have a little party on Christmas Eve?” She caught the apprehensive looks of the staff.

  “Who would you be wanting to invite, miss?”

  Tamar’s eyes widened. “Oh, no one! I meant a party just for us and the children, with a tree and gifts—the Wilsons did leave presents, didn’t they?”

  The housekeeper nodded. “The mistress and master’s wardrobe are filled with packages.”

  “Perhaps we should wait and give them to the twins on Christmas Day. I’ll find a few things for Christmas Eve,” Tamar planned.

  “So will we.” Distrust gone, the servants gathered around Tamar, and in the next few weeks, they often whisked things out of sight when she appeared. A few days before the holiday, Tamar sought out the cook. “I—I didn’t think of it before, but the Wilsons might not like it if we used the drawing room for our party.”

  “Don’t fret yourself. We’ll put up the tree, pretty as you please, in the drawing room for Christmas Day—but the chauffeur and maids are already decorating the servants’ dining room for our Christmas Eve party.” She sniffed. “The Wilsons might not approve of the children being there, but they can’t object when they aren’t here where they belong. Fine thing, going off at Christmas and leaving the little ones.” A broad smile made creases in her round face. “If master or mistress raises a rumpus about Dora and Donald eating with the servants for once, we’ll just up and tell ’em we knew they wouldn’t want the likes of us stepping out of our places.” She cast a shrewd glance at Tamar. “I’m for thinking you’ll be wanting your Christmas dinner in the nursery, as usual?”