by Jody Hedlund
The boy nodded. And when he peered into the water, he shuddered too visibly to be making up his story. Either that, or he was a very good actor.
“One of you want to dive down there and see for sure?” Reinhold asked. “It might just be a deer or calf that wandered off—”
“Ernie said it’s a boy,” explained the friend.
“I ain’t goin’ down there,” the other said at the same time.
Reinhold took off his hat and scratched his sweaty head. Then he rubbed a hand across the back of his sunburned neck. It too was sticky and hot. The pond was as still as a looking glass and seemed to beckon him to jump in and cool off.
He shed his clothing and shoes until he was down to his drawers, then plunged in. Ducking his head underwater, he took pleasure in being submerged. The water was tepid, but it still felt good against his mostly bare body. He swam out to the middle before resurfacing. “Where did you see the body?” he called to the boys.
After the three boys directed him to a spot not far from the shore, he dove down again. The water was so murky that he doubted the boy had been able to see anything at all. Regardless, he swam down until he touched the bottom, which was no more than twelve feet deep. He felt around with his hands, stirring up leaves and rocks and mud.
With the pressure building in his lungs, he flipped around and surged to the surface. “Nothing,” he called.
Liverpool was still up on the wagon bench. “Come on then!” he shouted. “Let’s go.”
“Try again,” Ernie said. “A little to the left this time.”
One more try wouldn’t hurt. Reinhold drew in a breath and dove back down. Once at the bottom, he swept his hand around in a wide arc back and forth. He shifted positions and tried again and was about to give up when his hand grazed something soft. He patted the fleshy object. It took his mind several seconds to register his discovery.
He jerked his hand away and almost gagged.
It was a human face—or at least what remained of it.
Reinhold had to make several more dives before he was able to remove the large stone that had been tied to the corpse. It took even more time to drag the slimy, bloated body to shore. The boys were all too scared and sick to their stomachs to be of any help as he worked to get the body out of the pond.
Once the person was laid out on the grass, Reinhold could see why the boys were retching. The flesh had begun to decompose, and the sight and smell was nauseating. However, the face was still mostly intact. Hopefully the body would be identifiable. Going by the slight size and build, Reinhold guessed the dead boy to have been twelve or thirteen.
Reinhold stood dripping in the grass next to the corpse. There hadn’t been any news recently about a missing boy. Not that he’d heard about anyway. One thing was clear, though. Whoever this boy was, he’d been thrown into the pond on purpose. What other reason could there be for having a stone tied to him, if not to weigh him down and make his body sink to the bottom?
Had the boy been murdered? Had someone drowned him? Or was he killed first and then tossed into the pond?
Reinhold shook his head as he stared down at the poor dead boy. “Any idea who this might be?”
With their hands covering their noses and mouths, the three boys mumbled something about not knowing who it was.
Liverpool hopped down from the wagon and walked over to where the body lay. He looked down at the dead boy’s white, almost translucent face. The eyes and mouth were wide open. “I know who this is,” he said matter-of-factly.
“You do?” Reinhold asked in surprise. Liverpool had been in Mayfield only a week, and most of that time was spent in the Turners’ cornfields.
Liverpool nodded and looked away. “It’s Ned. He’s one of the other kids like me who came to Mayfield looking for farming work.”
“Then you knew him?” Reinhold reached for his trousers and jerked them up over his wet legs.
“Yeah, I knew him. I thought he jumped the rail and left town.”
“Do you have any idea how he ended up here?”
Liverpool peered into the distance, his eyes as black and deadened as the pond scum that stuck to Ned’s body. “I think I know what happened.”
Chapter 17
An urgent knocking on the front door of Elise’s home woke Marianne. She sat up in her bed with a start, her heart pattering hard in her chest. Her feet were tangled in her covers, and her hair spilled in disarray over her shoulders.
Through her open window that faced the front of the house, she heard the knocking again, more insistent than before. Had something happened to Drew?
She wasn’t sure why that was her first thought, except he’d been a part of her restless dreams. She’d had a difficult time falling asleep, unable to put him and their marriage out of her mind. The ceremony was scheduled for tomorrow at noon.
All week she’d kept the thought of the marriage at a distance by telling herself they still had time to change their minds. But the week had passed all too quickly. She and Drew had fun helping Elise in her kitchen. They shucked peas, plucked feathers off chickens, peeled carrots, and a dozen other tasks Elise had given them. They’d spent all their time together either helping in the eating house, taking walks, or playing games with Jethro, their constant companion.
Marianne decided that spending time with Drew in public places was for the best, as even then the heat between them flared all too often. Elise had wryly mentioned she could start a fire in a cold coal stove with the sparks that flew between Marianne and Drew. She hadn’t exactly given her blessing on the marriage, but she seemed to be accepting the fact that Drew genuinely cared about her.
Marianne let her feet slide from the bed to the thick rug covering the floor. She reached for the summer robe Elise had given her to go with the frilly nightdress, slipped it on, and tied it closed while she moved to the window.
She had no doubt Drew cared about her and that she did for him. But should they get married so hastily? The question had plagued her until she’d finally dozed off, only to be awakened by the knocking on the door.
Yes, they’d spent almost every waking moment together over the past month of traveling. She’d gotten to know Drew better than she had almost anyone else. He’d finally opened up and shared about his past. Maybe not everything, but it had been enough for now.
Besides, if they were going to be traveling together for at least the next month, wouldn’t they be better off married? Then they wouldn’t have to worry about falling prey to temptation or about any further improper conduct, especially in front of Jethro.
But was their physical attraction enough to justify getting married?
She pulled back the curtain and peered out at the dark street and then down to the door. In the moonlight she caught a glimpse of Drew’s blond hair.
Her breath caught with renewed worry. She’d been right to have the premonition. Something was wrong. “Drew,” she called, sticking her head out the window.
At the sound of her voice, he stepped away from the door. She didn’t have to see his face to sense he was tense with anxiety.
“What’s wrong?” she asked in a loud whisper.
“Jethro’s sick,” Drew answered. “He’s burning up with a fever.”
“I don’t understand. He was fine when I tucked him in earlier. He had a runny nose, but that was all.”
“He woke up crying and complaining of a sore throat.”
“Did you send for the doctor?”
“Yes, he’s with Jeth now and so is Mrs. Gray.”
“I’ll be down as soon as I can,” Marianne said.
Drew nodded. He’d come to care deeply for Jethro as much as she had. He was a special little boy who’d taken up residence in both of their hearts.
Marianne hurried to get dressed, not bothering to fix her hair. Instead, she rushed downstairs and reassured the young maid who’d responded to the knocking that she could go back to bed and that she didn’t need to awaken Elise, who would only reprimand Marian
ne for leaving with Drew in the middle of the night.
With Drew’s hand in hers, they ran back to the depot and clattered breathlessly up the stairs. The doctor was closing up his leather case as they tiptoed into the room. The lantern on the bedside table was lit and illuminated petite Mrs. Gray, who had pulled a chair up to the double bed and was holding a cloth against Jethro’s forehead.
“How is he?” Marianne asked, releasing Drew and stepping to the bedside.
“Sleeping again,” Mrs. Gray whispered.
The lantern’s glow turned Jethro’s face a sickly yellow. His red hair was curly from his perspiration and stuck to his face. His breathing was quick and shallow. Otherwise, Marianne couldn’t see anything else wrong with him.
“I believe he has the measles,” the doctor said. “He’s showing the early signs of it—inflamed eyes, a few white spots in his mouth. But we won’t know for certain for a day or two more, when or if he develops a rash.”
Everyone knew that measles was highly contagious. But Jethro hadn’t been around anyone who had the illness. “Where could he have caught it?” Marianne asked. “Are there any reports of the measles in Quincy?”
The doctor shook his head. “Not at the moment. Even so, we’ll need to keep him quarantined. We can’t take any chances.”
“Of course.” She reached for the boy’s hand and held it. Children—especially younger children—died every year from the measles. A new worry seized her heart. What if Jethro didn’t make it? Because of his years of malnutrition, he was weaker and smaller in stature than other seven-year-olds.
As if sensing her anxiety, Drew slipped an arm around her waist. “He’s stronger than he looks, Marianne,” he reassured her. “If he does have the measles, he’ll make it through just fine. You’ll see.”
She nodded and took strength from Drew’s embrace and also his confidence.
The doctor picked up his bag and moved toward the door. “If any of you haven’t had the measles yet, I suggest you leave now and quarantine yourselves.”
Nothing would make Marianne stay away.
Drew pulled back to meet her gaze, but she avoided it. She wasn’t leaving. Before she could say anything in her own defense, Drew muttered angrily under his breath and at the same time swept her off her feet into his arms. Cradling her against his chest, in three long strides he was out the door and already starting down the stairs.
“Put me down this instant!” she insisted.
“You’re going back to Elise’s house and staying there.”
She wiggled in his arms, trying to free herself from his hold. “Jethro needs me.”
“Mrs. Gray is with him.”
“But he doesn’t know her. When he wakes up he’ll be worried, and he’ll want me.”
“I’ll be with him too.”
She tried to free herself again, but Drew was strong and his hold unbreakable. He didn’t stop until he barged through the front door of Elise’s home, this time making enough noise to wake the entire household. He barked orders to the maid and followed her up the stairs as she directed him to Marianne’s room. Once inside, he stopped in front of the enormous canopy bed.
“If I put you down, do you promise you’ll stay here?” His voice was firm.
She hesitated. She didn’t know if she could follow through on such a promise.
“Please, Marianne,” he said more gently, “if not for your sake, then for the sake of others. Think about the people you’ll expose. You don’t want that, do you?”
“No,” she whispered. She didn’t realize there were tears on her cheeks until Drew bent and kissed a spot below her eye where a tear was escaping. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face against his chest as more tears trickled down.
“It’ll be all right, darlin’,” he whispered against her hair.
“What’s going on?” Elise asked. She was standing in the doorway, holding a lantern high. The light fell over the rumpled bed and the two of them in their intimate hold.
Marianne pulled back from Drew. As if realizing how compromising their situation appeared, Drew lowered her to her feet but kept his arm around her to steady her.
She wished she could come up with a witty remark as easily as Elise would have. But she wasn’t a quick talker and neither could she mask her heartache. “The doctor thinks Jethro has the measles, and now it’s possible I could catch the illness too.”
“How about you, Elise?” Drew asked. “Have you ever had the measles?”
She shook her head. The lantern light cast a pallor over her face and caught the glint of fear in her eyes.
“Then the two of you will keep each other in good company over the next few days while you’re in isolation.”
Elise’s face registered a resignation that Marianne wished she could muster.
“What about the wedding?” Marianne asked. Once the words were out, she felt silly for bringing it up, like a petulant child who’d been denied her dessert. She wasn’t that eager to be married to Drew, was she?
His grin was slow and knowing. “Don’t worry. I’ll check with the reverend tomorrow and see if he’s willing to come here and perform the ceremony.”
“Or perhaps this is God’s way of intervening,” Elise suggested, “giving the two of you more time to think about what you’re doing.”
Maybe Elise was right. Now that Jethro was sick, what was the rush? Should they take more time to think about it?
“I’ve had more than enough time,” Drew said in answer to Elise’s question as well as Marianne’s silent one. “I want to marry Marianne, and nothing will stop me.”
His declaration went straight to her heart, filling it with a warmth that chased away all the doubts she’d had earlier in the night. He reached for her hand and lifted it to his lips. Then he kissed the tip of each finger softly, one after the other. But it was the shining look in his eyes that caused her pulse to patter to a halt.
She knew he was crazy about her, and she couldn’t deny she felt the same way. But was it love or infatuation?
“If the reverend is willing and able,” he whispered, “promise you’ll marry me tomorrow.”
Marianne shifted so she couldn’t see her sister but instead focused on Drew. She brushed the dampness from her cheeks and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Jethro would want them to get married tomorrow. In fact, he’d be disappointed if he learned they’d postponed their wedding on account of his illness. Besides, if Drew was so eager, how could she deny him?
She smiled and nodded.
“Good.” He kissed her hand again before releasing it. “Until tomorrow, then.”
Marianne slept fitfully and woke up tired. Her eyelids were heavy, and with every swallow of her coffee at breakfast she felt something like an ache in her throat. She knew she was only imagining symptoms and that if she caught the measles, she’d know it.
Nevertheless, the morning passed with agonizing slowness. She kept worrying over Jethro and watching out the window for Drew coming down the street, listening for his confident steps or his friendly voice.
Had he really meant what he said last night, that nothing would stop him from marrying her?
Mr. Gray finally came by to let her know that Drew was relieving Mrs. Gray at Jethro’s bedside. The stationmaster’s wife had spent the rest of the night keeping the boy’s fever from spiking higher. Now that Jethro was resting more peacefully, Mrs. Gray had decided to get a few hours of sleep for herself.
Marianne dressed in another new gown Elise had given her, this one a deep amethyst that made her eyes and hair appear darker and her skin creamier. She’d also taken extra care with her hair, even accepting the maid’s help to style it with cascading ringlets.
“You look lovely,” Elise said when Marianne came down to the parlor where they’d decided to hold the wedding. The room had a tall ceiling with elaborate cornices like all the other rooms. A large marble fireplace took up nearly one entire wall and had a gilded mantel mirror above it. The
furniture was simple but tasteful, brightened with colorful cushions that matched the Venetian rug covering the polished black oak floor.
Marianne pressed a hand to her stomach to settle the butterflies that kept fluttering every few minutes. “I only wish Sophie were here.”
“Remember, Sophie wasn’t at my wedding either,” Elise said as she adjusted the bow in Marianne’s hair.
Elise was silent as she walked around Marianne and inspected her, like a mother of the bride. Marianne waited for Elise to say something more, to object, to try to talk her out of the wedding. But she hadn’t said anything of the kind all morning.
“I thought you’d be trying harder today to persuade me against getting married,” Marianne said.
Elise stood back. “Since you’ve apparently made up your mind to go through with this impulsive wedding, I decided I need to be supportive and do my best to help you make it work.”
Marianne had been prepared to defend herself again but instead faltered for a reply. “Then . . . you like Drew?”
“Oh, I like him well enough. In fact, as I’ve gotten to know him better, I like him more every day.”
“But . . . ?” Marianne could hear the hesitation in Elise’s words.
“But I’m still not sure if he’s in love with you or simply having fun trying to woo you. Once the conquest is over, I hope he doesn’t have regrets about getting married.” As usual, Elise’s observations were astute.
Marianne lowered herself into one of the wing chairs and sighed. “Once we’re back in New York City, what if he decides he made a mistake?”
Elise took the elegant chair next to hers. “Has he told you he loves you?”
“No,” Marianne admitted slowly, wondering if the shine in his eyes last night counted. “But I haven’t told him that yet either.”
“Well? Do you love him?”
Marianne picked at a loose thread that dangled from her sleeve. “I think I do.”
“Then tell him so.”
“Don’t you think he should be the one to tell me first? What if he says it in return only because he feels pressured to?”