Courting Miss Adelaide

by Janet Dean

  She wouldn’t write another article on suffrage until she’d gotten William out of that house. Change for women wouldn’t come overnight. But harm to the children could. How could she ensure their safety?

  Three days had passed since Charles had spoken with Addie, but she never left his thoughts. Determined to protect her, at night he’d watch her window until her light went out, then he’d patrol the streets. When the sun rose in the eastern sky, he’d give up his watch. He didn’t bother going home to sleep, but bunked on a cot in the back, tossing and turning until Teddy arrived and the smell of brewing coffee dragged him out of bed.

  Across the way, he saw Adelaide and Emma chatting with Mary and his nephews. Obviously, Addie didn’t miss him. Nor had she thanked him for printing her third column or criticized him for placing it on the back page. Instead, since their argument, she’d gone on with her life while he’d become a man of stone, unable to function at work, unable to smile, unable to sleep. What had happened to the stoic newsman he’d been? He hardly knew himself.

  Remembering the way she laughed, her scent, the essence of Addie, left him longing to talk to her. He left the window and walked to his desk.

  Teddy glanced his way. “You’re up and down so much, you’re making me dizzy. Why don’t you go over there?”

  “Where?” Charles said feigning ignorance.

  Teddy chuckled. “To Miss Crum’s hat shop, where else. You’ve been watching the place all week. Wouldn’t it be easier just to go over there?”

  Charles dropped into his desk chair. “I’m the last person Miss Crum wants to see.”

  Teddy took a seat across from him. “You two have a spat?”

  Charles leaned back, focusing his gaze on the ceiling. “You could say that.”

  “Women have a way of squeezing an apology out of us men sooner or later. Tell her you’re sorry. Take her a new apron or something.” A rumble sounded from Teddy’s stomach. He dropped his foot to the floor and unfolded his body from the chair. “I’m heading home to dinner. My advice is to take her flowers and if you’re really in trouble, a nice brooch, too.”

  But Charles knew flowers and trinkets wouldn’t solve this mess. He’d destroyed Addie’s feelings for him. He wondered why he cared. She represented everything he’d run from most of his life—family, God, marriage. So why did he feel like he’d lost a part of himself? The good part.

  When the door to the paper opened, he scowled. Teddy better not have returned to pester him.

  Mary poked her head in the door. “Are you busy?”

  “No, come in.” Seeing his sister-in-law’s happy face took the frown off his. “Where are my nephews?”

  “They’re out front in the wagon nibbling on some of Adelaide’s cookies. I decided I could afford a luxury so I bought one of her hats.” Mary spun around in front of him, letting him admire it from all angles. “Do you like it?”

  “Very much. It suits you.” Charles stared at the hat that had lain in Addie’s capable hands. For some unknown reason, he brushed a hand along the silky rose hugging the brim.

  “Why thank you, kind sir,” Mary said with a laugh.

  A lump rose in Charles’s throat. “How is she?”

  “Pretty good, considering you tossed her out of your life like yesterday’s news.”

  “I did not. She tossed me out of her life.”

  “Well, if she did, she must have her reasons. She looks almost as miserable as you.”

  Addie looked miserable? Not when he’d seen her across the way. Did she miss him? Or was she frightened and unable to sleep? Charles circled the room, his gaze never leaving the millinery shop. He hadn’t worried like this since his childhood, when he’d listen for his father’s footsteps.

  Could he protect Addie any better than he’d been able to protect Ma and Sam?

  He stopped beside the window and hit his palm against its frame. “If I could only be sure she’ll be safe. It’s driving me crazy. I watch her place all night.”

  “You what?”

  “With everything that’s happened over there, I’m keeping an eye out for trouble.”

  Mary stepped to his side and straightened his collar. “No wonder you look dreadful.” Studying him, she tapped a finger against her lower lip. “Sounds to me like you’re in love.”

  He groaned.

  “There are easier ways to protect her.” She cocked her head. “You could marry her.”

  And open her to heartache? Never.

  She flashed him one of those knowing woman smiles. “Then she’d be safe. And probably get to keep Emma.” She gave him a hug. “And you’d both own the paper. Marriage would take care of all your problems.”

  He studied the floor. “I can’t do that.”

  Mary folded her arms. “The trouble with you, Charles Graves, is you’re in love and won’t admit it, even to yourself.”

  He jerked his head up. Everyone talked about love as if it were the simplest thing in the world. He knew better. “I’m not even sure I know what the word means.”

  “What you want is a guarantee. There’s no guarantee with love. No guarantees for anything worth having. Like my boys out there.” Charles’s gaze settled on Michael and Philip perched on the wagon seat. “I’m both mother and father to them—doing the best I can. I suppose they could grow up and break my heart. But maybe, just maybe, they’ll make me proud.”

  Her voice cracked with emotion. She swiped at damp eyes. “Well, I’d best be going.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek. “My advice, Charles Graves—don’t let a woman like Adelaide Crum slip through your fingers.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  On Sunday, Charles stood outside the imposing edifice of the First Christian Church. He tugged at the tie choking his neck, buttoned and then rebuttoned his jacket and adjusted his hat. Through the open windows of the church, a song drifted on the cool morning breeze. A long time ago, he’d sung the familiar tune.

  Bowing his head, he let the song “What a Friend We Have in Jesus” flow through him, the words soaking into his parched soul. The song promised peace—if he prayed. But he couldn’t. Not since his childhood prayers had gone unanswered, destroying something between him and God. Charles swallowed past the lump in his throat. If only he could find that serenity, serenity that had been missing most of his life. Maybe inside the church he’d find the answer, find his way back to God, to that promise of peace.

  He tried to lift his foot, to climb the steps leading into the house of worship, but he couldn’t move. Sweat beaded his forehead, and the lump swelled in his throat until he felt he’d suffocate. He bent over and dragged oxygen into his lungs.

  A cloud passed between him and the sun, covering him in shadow. A sudden chill streaked down his spine.

  He couldn’t move. Couldn’t pray, couldn’t worship.

  Too much stood between him and God.

  Listening to the sermon and singing praises, a blessed peace stole over Adelaide, along with the conviction that whatever happened in her life, God sat on the throne, controlled the universe and would take care of William and Emma. If only Charles would attend services, he might find a measure of peace.

  She and Emma rose for the benediction and afterward followed the parishioners into the aisle. At the door, they shook hands with Pastor Foley then walked down the steps.

  “Adelaide, wait up!”

  Recognizing that voice, Adelaide led Emma to one side as Fannie emerged with James. The couple moved toward them and Adelaide noticed Fannie walked with grace. Why, she looked like a lady right out of Godey’s. Pleased some of her lessons had taken root, Adelaide smiled.

  Fannie tugged James forward. “Adelaide, have you met James Cooper?”

  “Yes, I have. We’ve run into each other a time or two.”

  James’s eyes twinkled. “She means that literally, too. I almost plowed her down one morning.”

  She wanted to ask James about Charles, but didn’t. “No damage done.” Adelaide grinned. “This is Emma Grounds.�
��

  The couple greeted Emma. Then Fannie smiled. “I read your articles. They were wonderful.” Adelaide’s face must have revealed her surprise because Fannie giggled. “Since I’ve met James, I’m reading the paper.”

  “Unfortunately, not everyone agrees with you,” Adelaide said.

  “Really? Well, it makes perfect sense to me. We ladies are people, aren’t we?”

  Emma touched Fannie’s hand. “I’m a people, and someday I’m going to be a dip…dip…lomat. Mr. Graves told me so.”

  James lightly tugged at the ribbons on Emma’s hat. “Well, if women get the vote, and I hope they do, you’d be my first choice for a diplomat, Emma.”

  Fannie smiled adoringly into James’s face and he beamed back, looking equally besotted. “Wasn’t the service uplifting? Did you hear James singing? He has the most beautiful voice.”

  “Fannie thinks I’m a great singer because she can barely carry a tune.”

  Fannie giggled. “That’s true.”

  James sighed, love softening his normally probing gaze. “Don’t you adore her giggle, Miss Crum?”

  Before giving an answer, Adelaide gave Emma permission to join a group of children playing nearby. “Fannie is Fannie,” she said, hoping that would suffice.

  “That’s exactly what I like about her. There’s no pretense with Fannie.”

  The young woman leaned close. “I guess I won’t need more of your lessons, Adelaide. James likes me just the way I am.”

  James accepted Fannie, giggle and all. Adelaide’s composure faltered. Had she done the same for Charles?

  Having lived without her mother’s approval, she should have understood the need for true acceptance. Taking Fannie’s hands, Adelaide gave them a squeeze. “Thank you.”

  The young woman’s eyes widened. “For what?”

  “For teaching the teacher a thing or two,” she said softly.

  A puzzled expression took over Fannie’s cheery face, and she giggled again. “Me? Teach you?”

  Adelaide nodded, suddenly unable to speak. Why hadn’t she seen the truth earlier? “You’ve taught me more than you know.”

  Later, as the young couple ambled over to talk to friends, Adelaide pondered the lesson they’d unknowingly taught. When you love someone, you accept them for who they are.

  She’d criticized some things about Charles that didn’t matter a whit and had judged him for far more than a messy desk.

  She, of all people, should understand how a painful childhood could damage a person. Charles had suffered at the hand of a church-going hypocrite. She should have had more compassion for his refusal to attend church. Maybe if they’d read Scriptures and prayed together, or if she’d asked Pastor Foley for suggestions, she could have found a way to help him.

  When you love, truly love a person, you help rather than censure. Perhaps her mother had influenced her more than she realized. She hoped it wasn’t too late to change.

  Thursday afternoon, Emma ran across the schoolyard, the pigtails Adelaide had carefully braided that morning flying out behind her and unraveling around her face. Adelaide scooped the little girl into her arms. Hand in hand, they started for home.

  Adelaide squeezed Emma’s hand. “How was your day?”

  “Billy said his papa didn’t like what you wrote in the paper. He said you’re dumb. What did you write?”

  “An essay on why women should be allowed to vote.”

  “What’s dumb about that?”

  “Nothing. Some people don’t like women to make decisions.”

  “Like Tad won’t let us girls pick teams at recess?”

  “Sort of like that.”

  “Well, it’s not fair.” Emma thrust out her lower lip.

  Adelaide patted the little girl’s shoulder, Charles’s words, Life often isn’t fair, Addie, tumbling in her mind.

  Adelaide stopped and bent down, hoping to make Emma understand. “I agree, sweetheart. Everyone in this great country should have a say in who makes the rules.”

  “Can I make some of our rules?” Emma asked, her blue eyes shining with mischief, the unfairness of her life forgotten.

  Adelaide laughed and tugged Emma toward her for a hug. “We’ll have to see about that.”

  Emma grinned and they walked on. Adelaide had started to say Emma could make some rules if she had the wisdom. But men used a woman’s perceived lack of wisdom as their objection for suffrage, putting women on the level of children.

  Her mind on suffrage, Adelaide almost bumped into Frances Drummond huddling in front of the pharmacy, her gaze riveted on Emma and filled with longing.

  Emma’s brow furrowed in concern. “Where’s William?”

  Frances stroked Emma’s cheek. “He’s at the mill with Ed.”

  Before Emma could say more, Adelaide touched her shoulder. “Would you run back to school and get your McGuffey’s reader? I’d like you to read from it tonight.”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll wait for you here.”

  Emma gave Frances a smile. “I’m a good reader,” she said, then dashed off toward the school.

  With Emma out of earshot, Adelaide turned back to Frances, who looked even thinner and paler than the last time she’d seen her. A faded bruise marked her left cheek.

  Frances took a shaky breath. “You and Emma love each other. I saw it in both of your eyes.” Her voice sounded thick, as if tears ran down the back of her throat. “I want to talk to the committee.”

  Adelaide’s heart thumped in her chest, hope galloping through her. “Why?”

  Frances’s eyes misted. “To tell them about…Ed’s abuse. Get William out of harm’s way.”

  Realizing this decision cost Frances dearly, Adelaide clasped her hands together to keep from giving her a hug.

  “You’re a good mother. I want you to have both children.”

  Unable to speak, Adelaide covered her mouth, holding back her tears—tears of joy for her, tears of sorrow for Frances.

  “Those articles you wrote in the paper are the reason I’m speaking up.”

  Adelaide could barely comprehend that her words had given Frances such courage. “Would you like me to go with you?”

  “I’d be obliged.” Frances dashed away the tears sliding down her cheeks. “Could we meet in the early afternoon? Ed doesn’t come in from the fields until dark so I should be able to leave without him knowing.”

  “How about two o’clock tomorrow afternoon in the courthouse?”

  Frances nodded.

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?” a gravelly voice demanded.

  Adelaide’s heart skipped a beat. She swung around to encounter the glowering face of Ed Drummond. How long had he been listening? How much had he heard?

  “For…helping Emma with her math,” Frances stammered, resting a tentative hand on his arm. “Where’s William?”

  “He’d better be waiting in the wagon like I told him.” Ed shrugged off his wife’s touch and pivoted to Adelaide. “You’re quite the rabble-rouser, aren’t you? Now you’re trying to turn husbands and wives against each other with your radical ideas.”

  Ed lowered his head and placed his mouth close to Adelaide’s ear. “You aren’t as smart as you think you are, missy,” he whispered, his breath warm on her neck, raising the fine hairs at her nape. “Leave us alone, and let me take care of my family like God intended.”

  How dare he liken his treatment of Frances to God’s design?

  Ed’s lip curled into a snarl. “And stay away from the sheriff, you hear? I won’t warn you twice.”

  Fear slithered down Adelaide’s spine and coiled in the pit of her stomach.

  Ed took his wife’s elbow and stalked off. Adelaide watched the Drummonds enter the law office two doors down, and then expelled the breath she’d been holding.

  She scanned the street. Long fingers of terror closed a stranglehold on her throat. Where’s Emma? She should be back by now. Had Ed g
otten Emma before he joined them?

  Adelaide set off for the school, holding up her skirts and running fast, begging Heaven for Emma’s protection. Soon her breath came in hitches and pain gored her right side. Up ahead, she spotted Emma, swinging along and singing at the top of her lungs. Dropping to her knees, Adelaide thanked God for the precious little girl’s safety.

  Emma saw her and sprinted to her side. “Miss Weaver asked me to wash the slates.” Emma beamed with pride and then held up a tan book. “I got my reader.”

  Rising to her knees, Adelaide draped an arm around Emma’s shoulders and inhaled the scent of soap, chalk, damp skin. She’d never smelled anything sweeter in her life. “That’s wonderful, honey. You’re a big helper.”

  “Where’s Mrs. Drummond?”

  “She had an appointment and couldn’t wait. Would you like to help me sew a hem this afternoon?”

  “Can I thread my own needle?”

  Adelaide smiled at the eagerness in Emma’s voice. “Yes, and you can thread mine, too. If you’d like, you can thread every needle in my sewing box.”

  Emma beamed. “I love you, Miss Adelaide.”

  Adelaide blinked and tears welled in her eyes. Emma’s mouth formed a perfect O and her blue eyes grew round with surprise.

  “I love you, too.” Adelaide gathered Emma close. “So very much.”

  Emma squeezed Adelaide with all the might in her small body. For a moment they remained motionless in each other’s arms, their declarations settling around them, as satisfying as manna from Heaven.

  Adelaide played Emma’s words over in her mind. For the first time in her life, someone had declared feelings of love. How had she been granted this most wonderful of gifts? What had she ever done to deserve it?

  Nothing. Nothing at all.

  God had given her Emma, plain and simple. No one was going to take away that precious gift. No one.

  Later that afternoon, with Laura taking care of the shop and supervising Emma’s homework, Adelaide had gone to the paper to ask Charles to arrange a committee meeting, but he wasn’t there. Teddy had pointed her toward the livery.