Written in the Heart

by Judith Stacy

  Allowing Caroline to take the lead, Stephen waded into the mass of tiny, wiggly bodies.

  “It’s not that I don’t like children…exactly,” Stephen said. And that was true. He did like children, albeit from a distance.

  “I know,” she said, and smiled up at him. “You certainly give Joey everything on this earth he could possibly want—materially speaking, of course.”

  She stopped to talk to a little boy who was holding a cookie in each hand and whose cheeks were puffed out with at least two more. It occurred to Stephen how pretty Caroline looked today, wearing a mint green dress and a straw hat with a wide brim and orange, white and green ribbons on the crown.

  He thought she always looked pretty. But today, right now, kneeling down helping the child with his cookies, getting crumbs on her skirt, she looked especially pretty.

  They walked across the lawn together. Richard and Brenna were helping at the petting farm. Caroline scooped the bunny from the wire pen and held it for a little girl too frightened to do it herself. Gently she took the child’s hand and helped her stroke the rabbit’s soft fur. Caroline’s face lit up when the little girl smiled.

  As they made their way through the yard, Caroline never hesitated to stop and talk with any of the children, wipe a dirty mouth, clean a sticky hand, listen or offer a hug.

  “It’s all right for you to talk to them,” Caroline said.

  Stephen forced a small laugh. “I guess they don’t bite, do they?”

  “Well, they might.” Caroline grinned.

  He put his hands in his pockets again and kept walking.

  Delfina kept the reporter entertained until Stephen and Caroline found them in the crowd and Stephen made some appropriate comments about the events of the day. The artist, who had already sketched several scenes in his notebook, drew one of Stephen before he and the reporter announced they had all they needed for the story and left.

  Caroline helped with the ice cream. Servants were there to oversee the children, but Caroline couldn’t seem to detach herself from them. It was a side of her Stephen hadn’t seen before.

  After all the children were served, Caroline sat with Stephen and called Richard and Brenna to join them, and they ate ice cream together.

  “Caroline, this is a wonderful day,” Brenna said. “The children are having a marvelous time.”

  “Yes, they are.” Caroline’s smile faded. “But seeing them breaks my heart. They have so little.”

  “Maybe we should do this more often?” Richard suggested.

  “That would be so nice,” Brenna agreed.

  Stephen bristled. “We’ll have to think about that.”

  “Joey’s having a delightful time,” Brenna said.

  They all turned to see him seated at the table, talking nonstop to the little boys around him.

  “He didn’t even want to stop for ice cream,” Brenna said.

  “It’s good for him,” Richard said, “being around boys his own age.”

  Stephen paused in midbite as the others stared at him. He lowered his spoon.

  “I’m not changing my mind about you two taking him to the park, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he said.

  “But Stephen, an occasional change in his routine is so good for him,” Caroline said. “Isn’t that right, Brenna?”

  She nodded. “A child needs exposure to different situations.”

  “I’m not disagreeing with that,” Stephen said. “My concern is for two women alone, responsible for the boy for a whole day.”

  “Stephen—”

  “I’ll go with them.”

  They turned to Richard, not sure it was he who had spoken. He shifted, then said, a little louder this time, “I’ll go with them.”

  “You will?” Caroline asked.

  Richard glanced at Brenna. “If you have no objections, that is.”

  She dipped her lashes. “If you’re sure you’d like to go.”

  “As long as you don’t mind.”

  “If it’s not too much of a bother for you.”

  “I don’t want to inter—”

  “It’s all set,” Caroline declared. “The three of us will take Joey to the park on Sunday.”

  “Is that all right with you?” Brenna asked Stephen.

  He paused with his spoon halfway to his mouth, and a little boy raced by, jarring his elbow. Strawberry ice cream splattered onto his shirt and necktie.

  Stephen frowned, concerned about his clothing rather than the child who’d caused the damage.

  “Damn,” he mumbled, picking up a napkin. “This was my favorite necktie.”

  “That?” Caroline leaned forward, her eyes wide.

  “What’s wrong with it?” Richard asked.

  “Yes,” Stephen said, “what’s wrong with it?”

  Brenna made a little clucking sound and Caroline rolled her eyes.

  “It’s ugly, Stephen,” Caroline said.

  “No, it’s not.” Stephen looked down at his necktie, then up at Caroline again. “Is it?”

  Caroline and Brenna both nodded. Richard shrugged helplessly, then asked, “Why don’t you come with us on Sunday, Steve?”

  Wiping his necktie with his napkin, Stephen shook his head. “Too much work. This Johannesburg situation has to be resolved, one way or the other.”

  Richard saluted Caroline and Brenna with a spoon of strawberry ice cream. “Ladies, Sunday it is.”

  Bone weary, Caroline crawled into bed and pulled the coverlet over her. Her head sank into the feather pillows and she closed her eyes.

  Visions of girls and boys filled her head. The day had been a success, by anyone’s standards. Caroline had hated to see the orphans leave. Little pieces of her heart went with each of them. It was a strange reaction. She’d been around children before but had never felt this way.

  It was so sad for a child to lose a parent. But both? At such a young age? Her mother had died long ago, but she’d had her father, and the two of them had been a family. He’d carried on and made a good life for them.

  But what if it had been the other parent she’d lost? Caroline thought for a moment how differently her life might have turned out. How many children were orphaned because their mothers simply didn’t have the money necessary to care for them? Without a husband, a woman had few ways of supporting a family. There weren’t many respectable jobs a woman could hold down. And most of those paid very little.

  What about women who were too sick to work? Too proud to come to places like the Monterey home and ask for a handout at the back door?

  Caroline thought again of the green-scarfed woman. She’d gotten only a vague impression of the woman’s features, but she’d recognized the envy in her expression as she stood at the fence and gazed into the yard. A deep longing for something she couldn’t have, something just out of her reach.

  Today wasn’t enough, Caroline decided. This Monterey event would have to come round much more often than annually.

  A knock sounded, faint and tentative. Caroline sat up. It hadn’t come from the door, but across the room. A shadow darkened the French doors leading to the balcony.

  Her heart thudded against her ribs. It was Stephen.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Caroline slipped on her dressing gown and tied the sash around her waist. The shadow outside the French doors was tall, hulking. Stephen, for sure.

  She didn’t take the time to wonder what he wanted, why he was here. Her thoughts spun too quickly for that. She opened the door.

  Stephen towered over her in the doorway, his features intense in the dim light. He wore a white shirt, opened at the neck, and trousers—fastened.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked.

  “No, I, ah…” His gaze dropped to her feet, then rose quickly, taking in the length of her. “Did I wake you?”

  Caroline pushed her hair back off her shoulder, conscious of her state of dress, the darkness, their isolation. When she’d met him on the balcony on previous nights it had been b
y chance. This was by design.

  “No,” Caroline said, “I’d just gotten into—”

  Bed.

  Her cheeks burned, sending a sizzle down her body. It arced to Stephen, causing him to draw in a big breath.

  “I didn’t come to the door,” Stephen said, “because I didn’t want anyone to see and get the wrong idea.”

  He cleared his throat and backed up a few steps. “I want to talk to you.”

  Caroline followed him onto the balcony, more comfortable here than in the confined space of her bedroom; Stephen seemed to shrink every room he entered. She rested her arms on the stone railing and let the cool evening breeze fan her face and tug at her hair.

  Beside her, Stephen did the same. Together they looked out over the lawn, at the lights of downtown businesses off in the distance, a few glowing windows in neighboring houses. After a few moments, she sensed him relax.

  “I guess my lawn will recover.” He uttered a short laugh. “Looks like I’ll pull through, too.”

  Caroline smiled. “Then I’d say the day was definitely a success.”

  “I’m not all that comfortable around children.”

  “They’re messy,” Caroline agreed. “Clumsy, thoughtless, awkward—the list is endless, ever changing as they grow.”

  “It’s not that.” Stephen touched his hand to his chest and said softly, “Childhood hurts.”

  He was talking about his own childhood. Emotion swelled in Caroline until her chest hurt, too. She wanted to reach out to him but knew he’d back away. She didn’t want to lose this moment with him.

  “Your childhood hurt,” she said. “Seeing those children today reminded you.”

  Stephen was quiet for a moment. “I was twelve when my parents died. Thomas was eight. We weren’t sent to an orphanage, just shuffled around for a while until Uncle Colin agreed to take us.”

  “That must have been awful,” Caroline said. At least when her mother died, her routine hadn’t changed. Her father had been there, comforting and supporting her.

  “Uncle Colin had our photograph taken the afternoon we arrived at his home,” Stephen reminded her. He looked away. “So we wouldn’t forget, he said.”

  It was the photograph she’d found among Kellen’s belongings in the attic. The boys in their threadbare, ill-fitting clothing. Thomas, younger, appeared thrilled at arriving at their new home. Stephen had carried the burden of the truth for the both of them.

  “Didn’t your uncle want you and your brother?” Caroline asked.

  “He did. I’m certain he did,” Stephen said. “But there was always that…something….”

  Caroline couldn’t stand it another moment. Desperate to comfort him, to ease the worry lines in his face, she reached out and touched Stephen’s forearm. And as she knew would happen, he pulled away.

  Stephen straightened and drew in a deep breath, casting off his mood and changing the subject.

  “There’s something I need to talk to you about, Caroline.”

  Her heart ached. She didn’t want to talk about anything but Stephen and what he’d been through. She wanted to know everything about him. She wanted to crawl inside him and know him as well as she knew herself.

  He pulled her in that way. She’d felt it before. Right from the very beginning he’d had the power to do that to her.

  Stephen Monterey devoured her. Smothered her. Took over her mind, her thoughts, controlled her actions in an indirect way.

  At first, Caroline had been frightened of it. She’d tried to run, ignore him, go on with her own life. She hadn’t been able to. Something about Stephen wouldn’t let her.

  “It’s about your employment here,” Stephen said.

  His words jarred her from her thoughts, reminding her of all the times she’d spent with Delfina instead of working.

  “Have I done something wrong?” she asked.

  “Yes, in a way.” Stephen leaned an elbow on the stone railing so he wasn’t quite so tall. “Richard told me you seemed upset today that I’d alerted a Pinkerton detective to our theft suspect, and that he might to go jail.”

  “Yes. Mr. Acres.” Caroline glanced down at her hands resting on the stones. Richard, such a dear man, had noticed her concern and passed it along to Stephen. But what did he think? That she was silly? Stupid?

  “I don’t want you to worry over what’s happened,” Stephen said gently. “You should be proud of what you’ve done.”

  “Proud? That I’ve possibly sent a man to jail?”

  “That you’ve accomplished what you set out to accomplish,” Stephen said. “You had a job to do and you did it.”

  “But, Stephen, jail…”

  “You have an extraordinary skill, Caroline. It’s not your fault you caught a thief—it’s the thief’s fault for having stolen in the first place.”

  She gazed up at him. “Do you think so?”

  “Actions have consequences,” Stephen said. “Rudy Acres, if he’s the guilty party, made his own problems when he decided to commit the thefts. He has to pay for what he’s done.”

  “I can’t help feeling responsible, somehow.”

  Stephen touched her shoulder, turning her to face him. “You did the right thing, Caroline. And no one should ever feel bad for doing the right thing.”

  Her insides warmed, melting away the guilt she felt over naming Rudy Acres as the prime suspect.

  Caroline smiled up at him. “Thank you for saying that.”

  He gave her a quick nod. “You shouldn’t waste a moment’s concern on the likes of Rudy Acres. And if it turns out that you’re right and he’s the thief, don’t be afraid that he’ll retaliate in any way. He’s a penny-ante crook and no real threat.”

  She gasped. “He might do that? Try and get back at me?”

  “Didn’t I just say not to worry?” Stephen admonished. “He doesn’t know who you are, Caroline, or that you’re in any way responsible. You’re in no danger.”

  “But what about you?”

  Stephen shrugged off her concern. “I’m not the least bit concerned over the Rudy Acreses of the world.”

  “Well, if you’re sure.”

  “I’m very sure.”

  He was so sure, so confident, that Caroline believed him completely.

  “All right, then, I’ll get at those new handwriting samples in the morning,” she said.

  “Let me take care of the consequences,” Stephen said.

  A few minutes passed, but he didn’t release her arm. And she didn’t want him to. She wanted him to kiss her.

  The notion that she’d somehow, in a few weeks time, turned into a shameless, wanton woman didn’t really bother her. She wasn’t shameless about every man who came along. Only Stephen.

  Standing on the balcony, close enough to feel his warmth, Caroline thought she’d scream if he didn’t kiss her. Stephen looked as if he’d explode if it didn’t happen.

  He leaned his head down. Shameless, wanton woman that she’d become, Caroline rose on her toes.

  And stopped when a knock sounded from inside her room.

  They both stopped, inches—agonizing inches—apart.

  Stephen pulled away and released her.

  “I—I should see who that is.” She waved her hand toward her bedroom.

  “You should.” Stephen shifted from foot to foot. “Well, goodnight.”

  “Goodnight,” she said softly. “Stephen?”

  He turned back.

  “Thank you for talking to me tonight about Rudy Acres. You made me feel much better.”

  “You’re far too beautiful for worry lines, Caroline,” he said softly, then disappeared down the balcony.

  Caroline floated back into her bedroom, doubting that her feet would ever touch the ground again. She switched on the lamp at her bedside and opened the door. Brenna waited in the hallway, wearing her dressing gown.

  She glanced up and down the corridor. “Could we talk?”

  “Of course.” Caroline let her in and closed the door
behind her. She offered Brenna a seat on the overstuffed chair in the corner, but she refused.

  “I don’t mean to disturb you,” Brenna said, twisting her fingers together. “I know it’s late.”

  “It’s all right. I wasn’t sleeping, anyway.” Without wanting to, Caroline’s gaze darted to the French doors and the balcony beyond. “And I doubt I’ll get any sleep tonight.”

  “All the excitement.”

  Caroline’s cheeks flushed. Did Brenna know?

  “With the children here,” Brenna explained.

  “Oh, yes, of course. The children.” Caroline tugged on the sash of her robe. “Yes, it was quite a day.”

  Brenna smiled. “Joey was exhausted. He fell asleep in the bath.”

  “He needed a change, just as you said.”

  “Everyone—well, the staff, anyway—knows that you’re behind all the things that have been happening lately. It’s good of you to step in and help Delfina.”

  “I don’t mind,” Caroline said. “In fact, I rather enjoy it.” In truth, it surprised Caroline that she did. This was a side of her that had awakened quite unexpectedly since arriving at Stephen’s house.

  “You’re good at it, too,” Brenna said. “Richard told me that Stephen has a very profitable deal in the works brought on, in part, by the wives of some businessmen coming over for tea and luncheon.”

  Pride swelled in Caroline. “I’m glad I could help.”

  “Of course, Delfina is getting all the credit.”

  “It’s better that way,” Caroline said. “I’m supposed to be working as a graphologist, not interfering with the running of the house.”

  “That’s generous of you.”

  “Thank you,” Caroline said. “But that’s not what you came to talk to me about, is it?”

  Brenna studied her hands for a moment, then drew in a breath. “I’ve decided to leave.”

  “Leave? Leave here? Quit your job?”

  “Yes,” Brenna said, although saying it was clearly painful for her.

  “But why?”

  “I have to.”

  “Don’t you like it here?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Has Joey become too much for you?”

  “Oh, no,” Brenna said. “Joey is a dear. A typical little boy, but a dear one.”