“It’s probably nothing.” Rachel shrugged, turning away from the window and setting her mother’s plate of biscuits and gravy and cup of coffee on her favorite table. “Although I have to agree with you that it is awfully early for her to be up and about.”
“She’s up to no good!”
“What would make you say such a thing?”
“Because that child is always getting into one form of trouble or another!”
“She and Jasper are probably just playing house in the woods.”
“The woods!” Eliza exclaimed with fright, her eyes growing wide and her hands rising to her cheeks. “What if she were to run into some wild, rabid animal? What if she wasn’t looking where she was going and carelessly tripped over a log and broke her arm in the fall? All this is to say nothing of bug bites, poisonous plants, snakes, or any number of other things that could hurt her!”
Inwardly, Rachel winced; she should have known much better than to put the idea of Charlotte traipsing around the woods into her mother’s head. Now she would be beside herself with worry until the girl finally returned home, and then would only get better once she had given her granddaughter a proper scolding laced with warnings of all the terrible accidents that could happen to her when she was out of sight.
Rachel knew that her slip of the tongue had come about because of all the many things swirling around in her head. It had been a little more than a week since Zachary Tucker came to her with his offer to purchase the boardinghouse, and every day she expected to find him once again at their door, demanding an answer. Her nights were filled with worry about the reaction she felt certain to receive when she told him that they would not sell their home; she wondered if he would set about ruining all of their lives the way he had destroyed Archie Grace’s.
While there was still a part of Rachel that daydreamed about all that they could do with the money being offered, she knew that her mother’s decision remained the right one. It was clear from what Eliza had told her that Zachary could never be trusted.
The other matter still playing on her mind involved Jonathan Moseley. Since the afternoon he had made his repulsive advances she had managed to stay far away from him, or at the very least made certain that there were other people around. At meals, he was as talkative as always, regaling anyone who would listen about his success as a salesman and his grandiose plans for the future. But in between the ever-present smile and witty banter, she occasionally saw him looking at her with an eye that told her his intentions were far from wholesome. He would approach her with his lewd remarks and grabbing hands yet again; it was only a matter of when.
“You should follow her,” Eliza said, breaking into her thoughts.
“What?” Rachel asked in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“The next time that Charlotte heads off to wherever it is that she’s taking all of these things, I think you should follow her. It’s the only way we would know without any doubt that nothing is the matter.”
“You’re overreacting!”
“I am not!” her mother answered defensively. “You said it yourself that her being out at such an early hour isn’t normal. What’s wrong with being absolutely certain she’s safe?”
“She’s just a child, Mother.” Rachel sighed. “This is the sort of thing that a girl her age would do… just as Alice and I did. We ran around in those same woods. Why can’t you let her have the same fun… the same freedom?”
“Because I know all too well what it feels like to lose a child.”
“Alice wasn’t a child anymore. She was a grown woman.”
“And I lost her all the same,” Eliza said as tears came to her eyes. “Isn’t the fact that Charlotte isn’t a grown woman—that she isn’t capable of truly knowing right from wrong—reason enough to find out what she’s up to?”
With all her heart, Rachel knew that this was an argument she couldn’t win; her mother always seemed to have an opposing answer. Her own worries and insecurities had grown so great in the years she’d locked herself in her room that she couldn’t help projecting them onto others, particularly Charlotte. She would be so worked up over what could be befalling her granddaughter out in the woods that Rachel was certain she wouldn’t eat even a forkful of her breakfast.
She can worry all she wants… but she’ll worry alone!
“If you want to know what she’s doing,” Rachel said, “follow her yourself.”
“You know that I can’t do that,” Eliza answered in exasperation.
“The reason you can’t follow her is that you won’t,” she declared as she picked up the empty breakfast tray and headed for the door. “Because you choose to stay in this room.”
“This isn’t about me,” her mother said just before her daughter shut her door. “You never know what she might have found in those woods.”
With the door to her mother’s room closed behind her, Rachel hurried down the hallway toward the staircase. The second floor of the boardinghouse contained four small bedrooms whose doors all opened onto the hallway, which began at the head of the stairs, wrapping around until it reached her mother’s room at the end. A railing guarded the inside of the hallway that opened to the foyer below.
Other than her mother’s room, only one space was currently occupied; the third door from her was Jonathan Moseley’s room. With the empty tray clutched in hand, she stepped quickly down the hallway, eyes on the carpet runner at her feet, hoping beyond hope that she would make it to the staircase undetected by him.
But just as Rachel was halfway down the hall, having made the first turn that would lead her to the stairs, the door to Jonathan’s room was suddenly flung open and the loathsome man practically leapt into the hall, blocking her path.
“My dear Rachel!” Jonathan cried with clearly fake surprise. “What a lucky coincidence that I would run into you just as I was about to head out and attempt to sell some of my wares,” he explained as he gave a hearty slap to his worn traveling case. “But as my mother used to say, luck often has a way of smiling upon the truly blessed.”
Rachel doubted that luck had anything to do with their encounter; it was far more likely that Jonathan had heard her earlier arrival on the stairs and had waited for her to return, one ear pressed tightly against the door in an attempt to hear her coming back down the hallway. The thought of his conniving made her sick.
“I was just taking my mother her breakfast,” she said simply as she tried to step around him but, as she moved toward the wall, Jonathan took it as an opportunity to get even closer, coming so near to her that she uncomfortably stepped back.
“I must say,” he said, giving his lips a lurid lick, “that you look every bit as lovely as usual today.”
Rachel found it impossible to return the compliment. Although Jonathan was dressed in his finest clothes, a checkered wool suit with a primly knotted bow tie, he was anything but handsome. With his heavily pomaded hair and the nearly overpowering scent of flower water mixed with unwashed body odor, he was disgusting. Considering his other physical flaws, Rachel figured that it would be a miracle if he managed to sell anything.
Memories of their encounter at the wash line came unbidden to Rachel’s memory; the vile way his lust-filled eyes had roamed across her body, the nauseating things he had said to her, and particularly the feeling of her skirt being lifted and his hand running up her leg.
If it hadn’t been for Uncle Otis…
In the week since Jonathan had harassed her, Rachel had made a promise to herself that she would avoid being caught alone with the man. But trapped in the hallway, far closer to him than she ever wanted to be again, she knew she had made a mistake.
“Good luck with your work,” she said flatly. Once again, she tried to maneuver around him, but she hadn’t moved but a step when his hand shot out and snatched her by the arm. His grip was tight, his fingers hurting as they dug into the soft flesh.
“Not so fast,” Jonathan warned.
“Let go of me,
” Rachel snarled, angrier than a stirred-up hornet’s nest.
“Never, my dear.” He smiled with a mouth of ugly teeth.
Furiously, Rachel tried to shake her arm free, but her protests only made him clamp down harder. Desperately, she tried to hold back the tears that began welling in her eyes.
“I do hope you’ve had time to reconsider my offer from last week,” he said.
“There’s nothing that would ever make me change my mind!”
“Oh, how I do love that defiant streak in you,” Jonathan crowed, his eyes as cold as any wolf. “But there is no argument that can be made strong enough to prevent us from being together. Quite frankly, you would be a fool not to see that a woman of your humble beginnings could greatly benefit herself by being with a man such as myself.”
With surprising strength, Jonathan tugged at Rachel’s arm and pulled her crashing into his chest. So close to the man, his face mere inches from hers, his beady eyes dancing in their shallow sockets, she couldn’t help but feel a revulsion far greater than she had ever known before. He was so near, so uncomfortably against her that she couldn’t even crane her neck in the almost impossible hope that Otis would once again intercede.
This time, I’m all alone…
“Why must you always be so very difficult, my darling Rachel,” Jonathan whispered, his fetid breath warm upon her face. “Though I am a patient man by nature, there are limits even to a man of my stature. Do you get some perverse thrill out of making me wait?”
“Jonathan, I—” she began, hoping that she might somehow be able to dissuade him from his ardor and escape his clutches, but his eyes narrowed to little more than slits and his grip tightened upon her.
“Because there is a limit to how long I intend to keep playing our little game. If you continue to reject our future together,” he explained, his voice suddenly as threatening as a knife’s blade, “then there will be consequences that you will inevitably regret… painful consequences…”
Rachel’s eyes widened at the full import of Jonathan’s words. Where before she had believed that merely rejecting his advances would be enough, that he would finally, if not a bit slowly, come to understand that she had no romantic interest in him, she now knew that she was mistaken. He was obsessed not only with her but with a future he had conjured in his own mind. To obtain that vision, there seemed nothing he would not do.
Horrified, Rachel prepared to scream. But just as she drew breath, Jonathan abruptly let her go, strode past her, and made his way down the stairs. He moved confidently, as if he didn’t have a single care in the world, pausing only when he reached the front door.
“Remember what I said, Rachel.” He turned around to face her, his eyes boring holes with a menacing stare. “The last thing either of us wants is for me to lose my temper.”
Without another word, Jonathan left the boardinghouse.
Rachel draped another damp sheet over the clothesline and paused, wiping the sweat from her eyes. The noonday sun hung high in the sky above her, but the heat it provided was slight; it was the exertion of her task that caused her discomfort. Rachel paid little attention to her work; instead her mind was racing as she thought about Jonathan Moseley, even as her eyes kept close watch for any sign of his approach.
While a few hours had passed since Jonathan had accosted her in the hallway of the boardinghouse’s upstairs, Rachel still felt as if the trauma had just occurred. I cannot believe the boldness and shamelessness of that man! Every time she blinked, she saw the way he had looked at her, felt the uncomfortable touch of his hand upon her, and even smelled the stench of his breath. Regardless, she knew that her troubles were only beginning.
After Jonathan approached her at the laundry line, Rachel had been able to put his advances out of her mind for the sake of her family. But while they still needed to eke whatever living they could out of the boardinghouse, she had begun to doubt that it was worth the danger of providing a room to the salesman. As soon as she finished her task, she was going to march into her mother’s room, demand that Jonathan Moseley be thrown out on his ear, and then…
The sudden slamming of the boardinghouse’s rear door startled her. She turned quickly, expecting to see Jonathan coming toward her, a ridiculous smile plastered across his thin face, eager to resume their earlier discussion, but instead it was Charlotte.
She was in a hurry, running down the short steps before jumping off the last one into the yard and beginning to dash toward the alley. Her dark skirt billowed out behind her skinny legs and her thick blonde braids bounced with every step. Rachel could see that she was awkwardly carrying something in the makeshift pouch she had made out of the front of her blouse. As always, Jasper ran playfully along beside his constant companion.
“Charlotte!” Rachel shouted. “Charlotte, wait!”
Charlotte skidded to a stop, every bit as startled as Rachel had been at the slamming of the door. For a long moment, it looked as if she was torn between resuming her mad run and actually listening to her aunt. She stood teetering, an unsure look on her face.
“Come here for a moment,” Rachel said.
Still uncertain, Charlotte looked back over her shoulder to the alleyway beyond. Jasper stood with his two back legs in a mud puddle and gave an insistent bark; it was as if he was trying to cajole her into joining him, into a return to whatever fun they had planned.
“We were just gonna go and play,” the girl complained. “We weren’t doin’ nothin’ wrong…”
“Don’t make me come over there,” Rachel warned.
Reluctantly, Charlotte did as she was told and trudged over to where her aunt stood; Jasper gave a short whine before joining the girl. As Charlotte walked, she kept her face toward the ground, her small shoulders slumped, but the contents of her blouse remained out of sight.
“What are you hiding in your blouse?”
Charlotte shrugged. “Nothin’.”
“Then why do you have your hands bunched up like that?”
There was no answer.
Exasperated, Rachel reached down and tugged one of Charlotte’s hands away, revealing a strange treasure: the leftover biscuits from that morning’s breakfast, one of which fell to the ground. Hurriedly, the girl snatched the morsel from the ground and put it back with the others.
“What are you doing with these?” Rachel asked.
“I was… I was just a bit hungry,” Charlotte mumbled, her eyes never rising.
“Didn’t you get enough to eat this morning?”
“It… it isn’t that…”
“Why can’t you eat them here?”
“We just want to go play,” Charlotte said, finally looking up into her aunt’s face as her eyes began to grow wet with tears. “Jasper and me were gonna go explorin’ and I wanted to make sure we had somethin’ to eat. That’s all it is, honest!”
Rachel stood with her hands on her hips and weighed the meaning of Charlotte’s words carefully. While much of what the young girl said made sense, and it was possible she was telling the truth, Rachel couldn’t help but hear her mother’s words from that morning, a worry that Charlotte was behaving strangely. Though prone to senseless fretting, her mother may have been right, but then there was only one way to learn the truth…
“All right, Charlotte,” she said. “Then you can go.”
The last word was barely out of Rachel’s mouth before Charlotte was off like a shot, Jasper at her heels.
But instead of returning to her chores, Rachel waited until Charlotte had just passed beyond the end of the alley. With more than half of her wash still waiting to be hung, she hastened off to follow.
Chapter Twelve
HURRYING AFTER CHARLOTTE, Rachel did her best to keep the child in sight. Cautious lest she get too close to the running girl and accidentally be seen, she waited behind the depot, darting her head around the corner. The October day had grown colder and she wrapped her shawl closer around her shoulders before once again stepping out and continuing her pursu
it.
Charlotte ran swiftly while holding tightly to her bundle of biscuits. Rachel found herself breathing heavily as she struggled to keep up. If worse came to worst, she thought, she would be able to follow the sound of Jasper’s barking.
After rounding the corner of the depot, Charlotte plunged down a well-worn path at the edge of the woods; Rachel recognized it as a trail that hunters traveled in search of wild game. Tall oak, poplar, and pine trees crowded out the sky, their branches swaying in the gentle breeze. Thimbleberry, sweet fern, and honeysuckle bushes were bunched together on the forest floor, their leaf cover already browned in the face of the coming winter. Rachel moved carefully, more than a bit worried that she would stumble upon a snake among the twists and turns of the path.
Where could the child be going?
All around, birds chirped and squawked, calling out from high in the forest canopy. Squirrels ran furiously about, frantically burying nuts and assorted other tidbits for the winter and spring. Rounding a corner in the path, she startled a pair of rabbits who darted from her into the safety of the underbrush, a rustle of fallen leaves the only sound to mark their passing. So far, she’d been lucky enough to encounter only the most harmless of creatures, but what if she met a rabid skunk or wild dog?
Circling around a solitary boulder wedged into a low gulley, Rachel followed the path as it neared the lake. The surface of Lake Carlson was as undisturbed as glass, save for the gentlest of ripples caused by the autumn breeze. It reflected the orange, red, and purple leaves from the trees on the opposite side. Straining her neck, Rachel caught sight of Charlotte farther ahead, with Jasper frolicking around her.
It had been a long time since Rachel last ventured into these woods. When she and Alice were young girls, surely not much older than Charlotte was now, they had spent hours running about between the trees, playing hide-and-seek with other children. In those days, she remembered being immune to the unseen dangers lurking in every shadow, the pain of a scrape against a tree’s rough bark, or the worry of encountering a pack of snarling wolves. Now she nervously looked about, her heart hammering, ready to bolt at the slightest hint of trouble.
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