Diane T. Ashley

by Jasmine

  “Especially when it turned out the dress I made ended about halfway between my knees and my ankles.”

  The picture that formed in her mind made Jasmine giggle. “What did you wear to church?”

  “The same old dress I’d been wearing all year long. Ma made me cut my curtain dress into squares for making a quilt. It was pretty, but not nearly as pretty as the dress I’d dreamed of wearing.” Clem’s giggle joined hers.

  Their shared laughter restored the camaraderie between them. Jasmine began picking up the scraps from the floor when an idea came to her. David had once told her he conducted interviews to get information. An interview was nothing but a bunch of questions, wasn’t it? Maybe she could conduct her own interviews and prove to him that his suspicions were unfounded.

  “Where was your parents’ farm?”

  “A small town in Ohio. The name wouldn’t mean anything to you.”

  Jasmine nodded. This interview stuff was easy. “How long have you been on the Ophelia?”

  “Only a year.”

  “What made you look for a job here?”

  Clem got out her thread and picked up the dress. “You sure are curious this afternoon. Are you checking to see if I would be an acceptable wife for your brother?”

  Feeling like she’d fetched upon a hidden snag, Jasmine blinked. “Of course not. I just thought I’d find out more about you … since we’re friends and all.”

  The needle flashed up and down in quick motions. “I guess that makes sense. But sometimes people don’t want to be asked about their pasts. Some might think you were being nosy or that you were trying to figure out their weaknesses.”

  So much for her future as a detective. Jasmine wondered how David managed to avoid raising people’s suspicions. Especially people who had a reason to hide something from a lawman.

  “I’m sorry. I was just interested in you, Clem. Will you forgive me for being a bother?”

  “You’re not a bother.” Clem pulled on a seam to check its strength. “I just don’t want you to make enemies here. You’re pretty and talented, which is sure to make all the women jealous. Miss Fenwick in particular. Didn’t I tell you earlier that she’s the type to scratch your eyes out? If you go asking her questions, she may push you overboard.”

  “I’ll remember that.” Jasmine checked her appearance in the full-length mirror attached to one of the walls in the dressing room. “Mr. Easley called a rehearsal this morning. If you’re done with me for now, I’ll go read over my lines.”

  “Don’t leave right away.” Clem looked up. “Tell me more about your brother.”

  “I … I can’t.” She escaped before Clem could continue asking her about things she didn’t want to answer. Her interrogation skills would have to improve if she was going to help solve David’s case and get him out of her way.

  “Your garden is so beautiful, Renée.” Jasmine smiled at the petite woman. “I don’t know how you have time to tend it while taking care of your houseful of men.”

  She glanced up at the crescent moon and starlit sky above them, glad Renée had offered to walk through her flower garden instead of sitting in the drawing room while the men finished their dinner. Iona, Brandon’s fiancée, had remained inside, concerned that the night air and pollen would give her a headache.

  Renée settled her shawl around her shoulders. “It does take some time in the spring, but I think it’s worth the effort.”

  “I never enjoyed the work, but the result you’ve achieved is breathtaking.” Yellow daisies, pink and lavender dahlias, and lacy purple carnations swayed gently in the evening breeze. Jasmine breathed deeply, enjoying the fragrances almost as much as the carpet of blooms surrounding them.

  “Your namesake is growing over here.” Renée led her to a trellis in one corner of the garden. Delicate white blossoms peeked out from between velvety green leaves. She plucked a couple of blooms and tucked them into Jasmine’s hair.

  The sweet scent of the flowers brought a smile to her lips. “Thank you.”

  “It’s my pleasure.” Renée put her arm around Jasmine’s waist. “I’ve been praying for your safe return ever since Lily and Blake told us you went missing.”

  Why did she have to bring that up? Jasmine pulled away from Renée’s arm. She didn’t want another homily about setting out on her own. Why didn’t anyone understand her? All during dinner, Renée and Eli’s sons had peppered her with questions about the showboat. She had enjoyed the attention and the admiration.

  “I know you think you’re a grown woman, Jasmine, but in Lily’s mind you’ll always be a little girl who needs her guidance. I feel the same way about my boys. My eyes can see that they’re young men, but my heart knows how vulnerable they are, how much they still have to learn.”

  “Brandon’s about to get married and start a family of his own.” Jasmine liked Iona—a pretty girl from Memphis with a tinkling laugh and big brown eyes that seemed locked on her fiancé. “Surely you don’t still see him as a child.”

  Renée pinched a dead bloom from the top of a rose bush. “But I do, dear. I know how quickly he can forget the lessons his father and I have tried to instill in him. Whenever I look at my sons, I think of Jesus’ parable of the sower. The dangers of this world are so pervasive.”

  Jasmine wanted to scoff, but the serious expression on the other woman’s face warned her to remain quiet.

  Renée swept her hand out to indicate the plants around them. “I’ve seen firsthand how easily seeds can be destroyed. Birds, heat, weeds, all three of the examples Jesus talked about have threatened my flowers.”

  The problem with Renée’s comparison was evident to Jasmine. She might be named after a flower, but she was a person. She had the sense to stay out of the sunlight in the heat of summer, and neither birds nor weeds were a threat to her.

  “It’s only through watchful tending and God’s provision that these plants reach maturity. Even then they can be destroyed if some insect or blight gains entry. That’s how Satan operates. He’s always quick to attack unwary souls. Lily wants you to thrive in the garden of life, but even more than that, she wants to make sure you follow the path God set out for you.”

  That’s what Jasmine was trying to do. If everyone would leave her be. Their problem was not being able to see that her path was not a traditional one. She had so much to offer the world, much more than the women who were tied down with husbands and households.

  Remington opened the door and ran to them, his impulsiveness propelling him forward. “Can I come to the showboat to see you acting?”

  Renée shook her head. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. We don’t want to make Jasmine nervous.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ve had a lot of practice performing for people I know. It will probably make things even easier.”

  Remington begged his mother to attend as they walked back to the house. Cameron was talking to David and his father in one corner of the parlor while Brandon and Iona had their heads together, intent on the magazine she held.

  “We’ll ask your father what he thinks.” Renée pulled off her shawl and laid it on the back of the sofa.

  “Pa, can we go see Jasmine tomorrow?” Remington was as tenacious as a bull terrier.

  Following in his wake, Jasmine wondered if the Thorntons’ youngest son would choose a path his parents approved of. Both Brandon and Cameron seemed more serious, more interested in working in the family business. But Remington was different. Perhaps he would like to join her in the theater. He was only sixteen now. By the time he was old enough to leave home, she would be established enough to give him a helping hand.

  “What did your mother say?” Eli queried.

  “To ask you.”

  Jasmine couldn’t help smiling at Remington’s hopeful expression. “I wish you would. I can speak to the manager about holding five seats for you.”

  “Make it six.” Eli pointed his chin toward his oldest son. “They’re inseparable these days.”

  Th
e engaged couple were too engrossed in each other to realize they were being discussed.

  As she nodded agreement, David cleared his throat. “I imagine we need to get back. You need a good night’s sleep, and I am supposed to tend the boiler in a little while.”

  Renée’s mouth turned down. “Must you go so soon?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  Jasmine would have disagreed, but she had to admit she was tired. Rehearsals, fittings, and two performances had made the day long. She wasn’t sleeping well, either, worried about David dragging her back to Les Fleurs. The idea of resting her head on a soft pillow was so appealing that the sudden need to yawn made her eyes water. “I suppose we should.” She had the satisfaction of seeing surprise in David’s green gaze. Maybe that would teach him that he didn’t know her as well as he thought.

  They thanked the family for inviting them, even managing to pull Brandon away from his love long enough to say good-bye.

  Eli walked them to the front door. “Are you sure you don’t want to take our carriage back to the boat?”

  Of course David answered for both of them, claiming the evening too perfect for being cooped up in a carriage. It was a good thing she didn’t mind the walk. Raising her chin, Jasmine marched down the stairs without waiting for his escort.

  He caught up with her in a few steps, of course, reaching for her arm. Jasmine tried to pull free of him, but his grip was too strong. Fine. He might be able to compel her to walk beside him, but he couldn’t make her talk to him.

  “It’s a nice evening.”

  She ignored his puny attempt at conversation.

  “I thought Brandon’s fiancée was a sweet girl.”

  Jasmine kept her lips pressed tight. A nearby street lamp showed her the frown on his face.

  “Do you hate me that much?”

  His question hit her with the power of a lightning bolt. “I don’t hate you.”

  “That’s a relief.” David pushed back his hat and wiped his brow.

  He could be so silly at times. And his highhandedness, his failure to consult her most of the time, proved that he lied. “You don’t really care what I think.”

  David stopped walking, forcing her to halt or risk straining her arm. “I care far too much about your feelings.”

  “You have hidden talents, Mr. Foster. You may earn a role in our next production.”

  “Don’t call me that. Remember that everyone on the Ophelia thinks we’re siblings.”

  She wrinkled her nose at him. “That wasn’t my idea. I still don’t understand why you introduced yourself as my brother back in New Orleans.”

  His laugh was closer to a dog’s bark than a sound of amusement. Shaking his head, he resumed walking. “Did you enjoy dinner?”

  “Yes, more than I thought I would. And she is a sweet girl.”

  It seemed to take him a minute before realizing she was referring to his earlier statement. “What was her name again?”

  “Iona Woods.” She choked back a giggle. What had possessed her parents to choose such a name for their daughter?

  David’s laugh sounded more natural this time. “I suppose it’s better than naming her Piney.”

  Piney Woods. She doubled over with laughter. The sound of their merriment blended together like a harmonious chord, and suddenly she was once again the barefoot girl who loved running across the deck of the Water Lily. Jasmine turned toward him like she would have done back then, putting her hands on his shoulders as she allowed free rein to her mirth.

  It felt natural when his arms went around her, held her close to his chest. For a moment no warning bells sounded in her mind, and when they did she found them easy to ignore. This was David after all, not some stranger.

  His heartbeat thumped against her cheek even as his laughter began to lessen. She knew she should straighten, but it felt so good to be this near to him. David wasn’t as tall as Vance, and he didn’t wear a cologne to compete with the earthy, masculine scent that was uniquely his.

  “Jasmine?” David’s tentative voice made her tilt her head back.

  The walls between them fell with the suddenness of Jericho’s fortifications. The yearning look in his face touched her heart in a place so deep that it almost hurt. She caught her breath and watched as his eyelids drooped low, hiding half of his serious green gaze. On some level she knew he was going to kiss her. She wanted it, wanted to feel his lips on hers, wanted to draw even closer.

  Her blood thickened, slowing her heart and making her ears ring. When his hooded gaze dropped to her mouth, she thought she might die. Yet how could she die when every inch of her was alive in a way it never had been before.

  One of her hands reached up and pulled his head lower, throwing caution and sense to the wind. His lips captured hers, and she felt the earth shake below her feet. Joy filled her as they clung together. It was heady, exciting … and absolutely impossible.

  The warning bells clanged loud and deep. What was she doing? This would never work. It was all wrong. Her hands pushed against his shoulders. “Stop.”

  “Jasmine.”

  “Don’t ever touch me again.” She spat the words at him, picked up her skirts, and started running. She didn’t stop until she reached the Ophelia. But even when she found her room and readied for bed, her mind still ran in directions she dared not follow.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  David wasn’t at breakfast the next morning. After the third female asked her where he was, Jasmine threw up her hands and left the dining hall. Am I my brother’s keeper?

  Vance followed her into the hallway. “I missed seeing you after the performance last night.”

  Jasmine stopped walking and pinned a smile to her face. At least Vance wouldn’t want to know where David was. “I had to go to dinner with some family friends.”

  “Should I be jealous?” Vance put his hand on the wall above her right shoulder.

  She raised her left shoulder in a shrug. “They’re coming to the boat this afternoon. You can see for yourself.”

  “Something’s different about you today.” He put a finger under her chin and tilted it upward, studying her face.

  Jasmine pulled her head back, banging it on the wall behind her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Vance, leave the girl alone and take this money to the bank. You know what we need.” Mr. Easley’s voice brought scalding hot blood into Jasmine’s cheeks.

  “I have to go.” She ducked under Vance’s arm and ran to her room. Closing the door with a snap, she leaned against it and concentrated on breathing deeply. Rubbing the back of her head, she wondered what Vance had seen in her. Something had changed inside her, but was it obvious on the outside, too?

  The question that had burned in her mind last night returned. Why had David’s kiss been so devastating? The difference between his kiss and Vance’s attempt was like the difference between the painting inside the Sistine Chapel and the scribbles of a child. Vance’s touch had been repugnant, nasty, and wet. With David she had felt as though their souls touched, as though their hearts had been soldered together.

  Was this one of the assaults Renée had tried to warn her about last night? Would her attraction to David destroy the seed of her talent? Her chin hardened. She wouldn’t allow it. With a nod of her head, she straightened and opened the door. She would not be distracted.

  After the third time she had to be cued for her next line, Jasmine realized it would take more than determination to overcome the effect of the previous night. Tears of hopelessness threatened to spill from her eyes.

  “We need a break.” Miss Barlow’s voice rang out across the theater.

  The manager checked his pocket watch. “Be back in thirty minutes.”

  Miss Barlow grabbed her hand. “Come with me.”

  Long nails dug into her arm, but Jasmine was too downhearted to complain. She didn’t even pay any attention when the older woman led her down a separate passage. But when Miss Barlow dropped her
hand and opened the door to her dressing suite, Jasmine balked.

  “Get in here.”

  Jasmine crossed the threshold, her eyes wide. The large room was filled with open trunks overhung by skirts, blouses, dressing gowns, and silk chemises. Feather boas in one corner of the room looked like a litter of kittens, and shoes in all colors of the rainbow were scattered across the floor like autumn leaves.

  Miss Barlow ignored the chaos, picking her way to a slipper chair and sitting. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “I don’t … I—”

  A snort interrupted her. “I thought you were made of stronger stuff than this. You’ve only been acting for a few weeks, but everyone who sees you knows you’re talented. You have something special, something few people—even fewer ladies—have.”

  The color rushed upward again. “Thank you.”

  “I invited you to my room so we can talk frankly, just the two of us.” Miss Barlow settled back against her chair. “You and I have many things in common. I was about the same age as you when I first started.”

  Jasmine wished she could sit down, but she didn’t want to appear too forward by either perching on the edge of Tabitha’s bed or sitting at her dressing table.

  “In some ways those days seem like yesterday. But then I look in the mirror and I realize how long it’s been—almost two decades. I wanted to be rich and famous. I wanted to read about my performances in the newspaper. I dreamed of the whole world knowing my name, of my photograph being the most recognizable in this country, in the whole world.”

  “But you are famous.” Jasmine glanced at all the clothes around them. “And rich.”

  “Pah, this is nothing. And yet it’s all I have.” The other woman stood up and kicked a shoe out of her way. Reaching inside one of the trunks, she grabbed up a skirt. “I wore this on a stage in Virginia the day before the war began. Those were hard days. Never knowing when one army or the other might lock us away as spies.” A harsh laugh came from her throat, and she tossed the skirt down. “Of course I did my fair share of passing along information on troops and plans. All for naught.”