Hidden in a Whisper

by Tracie Peterson

  “I’ve always heard that expectant mothers are radiant, but you are fairly glowing,” Rachel declared. “Close that door and we shall retire to my living quarters and make ourselves more comfortable. That way no one will be inclined to interrupt us.”

  Simone did as she was instructed and joined Rachel in her private suite. “This is lovely,” Simone said upon seeing Rachel’s small sitting room.

  “Yes, Fred Harvey has been most generous with me. I have all the privacy in the world back here.”

  “I should say so.”

  Rachel gave her a short tour. “I have my bedroom set up on this side in order to buffer myself from the noise of the lobby. It’s a snug fit, as you see, but by putting the dresser at the end of the bed, I’m able to give the bedroom a little bit of separation from the sitting room.”

  “This is a wonderful quilt,” Simone commented, running her hand along the top of the bed.

  “I purchased it from the ladies’sewing circle at the church. They call the pattern Crown of Thorns, and I think it is absolutely marvelous. However, Reginald calls it English Wedding Ring.”

  “Reginald? Who’s that?” Simone questioned, her perfectly arched brow raising ever so slightly.

  Rachel laughed. “He’s the chef for Casa Grande.”

  “And he’s seen your bedroom?”

  Rachel felt her face grow hot. “Certainly not. He caught me walking home from the church sale. As I came in through the back door, he saw me and commented on the quilt. That’s all.”

  “But you must be good friends. I mean, I’ve never heard you refer to any man, save my Jeffery, by his first name.”

  Rachel bit at her lower lip. She had hoped for a quiet moment to share her heart in regards to Braeden. “Well, Reginald insisted, and I didn’t see any harm in it. I mean, you remember how I felt about maintaining a closeness among staff members when we were back in Topeka.”

  “Of course I do,” Simone replied, watching Rachel very carefully, “but you seem awfully preoccupied, and Jeffery told me there was a man here at the hotel who was upsetting you. Someone from your past.”

  Rachel nodded. “Come sit with me and I’ll explain.” She moved away from the bed to her sitting area and offered Simone one of the two high-backed, thickly cushioned chairs. Once they were seated, she continued. “Jeffery was right about there being a man from my past here at the hotel. But it isn’t Reginald. The man is Braeden Parker. He’s the manager for the hotel.”

  “I see,” Simone replied with a grin. “And is he the reason you suddenly seem so nervous and pale?”

  Rachel laughed, but not with her usual enthusiasm. “No, that’s caused from trying to straighten out my girls and make certain they work in perfect order.”

  Simone smiled. “I should be here with you.”

  “Yes, you should. How dare you go and get pregnant on your wedding night?” Rachel teased. “Have you seen the doctor yet?”

  “I have. He says that I am the picture of health. Of course, he hasn’t seen me in the morning with my head bent over the washbasin.”

  “Have you been terribly sick?”

  “No, not really,” Simone replied. “I’m fine so long as no one mentions food before eleven-thirty. Poor Jeffery. He’s had to start taking his morning meal down at the cafe or up here. I can’t even stand the smell of food cooking. But after the morning passes, I feel much better.” “I suppose that’s why they call it morning sickness,” Rachel commented. “I think it’s pretty normal,” Simone answered, “but one of my neighbors informed me that she was never sick in the mornings but suffered terribly at night. So apparently there’s nothing routine or regulated about having a baby.”

  Rachel nodded. “I would imagine each case is pretty much unique—like the babies involved.” She reached out and took hold of Simone’s hand. “I’m so very happy for you, Simone—and for Jeffery too. I know you’ll be a wonderful mother.” She felt the words stick in her throat as tears filled her eyes. She dropped Simone’s hand and looked away.

  “What is it, Rachel?” It was now Simone’s turn to voice concern. She reached for Rachel’s hand and squeezed it gently. “Please tell me. Jeffery said you are hardly yourself, and I can see that now for myself.”

  Rachel forced her emotions under control. “It all has to do with Braeden Parker.” She looked up at Simone and tried to smile. “We … that is to say, I … oh, I don’t know what to say.” Rachel shook her head in exasperation. Simone was her dearest friend, and if she should be able to speak to anyone about this mess, it should be her.

  “You two were once very close?” Simone questioned.

  Rachel nodded.

  “You loved him?”

  Again Rachel nodded, fighting back tears.

  “You’re still in love with him?”

  Simone’s words hit Rachel like a slap in the face. Rachel had argued over and over with herself about her feelings. She knew she would never love anyone save Braeden, but she had tried desperately to convince herself that she was no longer “in love” with him.

  She looked up and met Simone’s compassionate expression. That was her undoing. With a sob, Rachel answered, “Yes.”

  “Is he married?” Simone questioned quietly.

  “No.” Rachel pulled a handkerchief from her deep apron pocket.

  “No, it’s nothing like that.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “We were once engaged,” Rachel said with a heavy sigh. “I broke off the engagement because of something someone told me. Something that condemned Braeden as being unfaithful to me.”

  “And were the allegations true?”

  “I thought they were, but now I’m not so sure.” It was the first time Rachel had ever admitted her doubts on the matter. “I took the word of my mother and her friends. They told me Braeden was seeing someone else. My mother was well-known for having knowledge of the neighborhood and those around her. It seemed logical to believe them—especially her … because … well, I’m not a beautiful woman and I had no fortune to speak of. Braeden had plenty of money and a good job. He was well liked and dashingly handsome. I knew it was a wonder that he would even look at me.”

  “Rachel, you are a lovely woman. You have a beautiful face and your figure, well, I’ve heard the girls comment on wishing they were so well proportioned.”

  Rachel sniffed and smiled. “My hips are too wide and my bosom equally full.”

  “Yes, but your waist is small. You have the perfect hourglass figure.” “You’re sweet to say so, but even if I could take pride in my looks, it wouldn’t change the past. I had no confidence in anything about myself then. I was the daughter of a railroad worker. After he died, we were even poorer and my mother had to seek financial support by running a boardinghouse. I’d only managed to meet Braeden because we attended the same church.”

  “Ah, so he’s a believer?”

  “Yes,” Rachel admitted. “Or he was. I haven’t talked to him lately about his feelings on the matter.”

  “Have you talked to him about any of his other feelings?” Simone asked seriously.

  “No. I can’t. Every time he’s near me, I know I can’t speak to him about anything important. I’ve hidden behind a fac ade of anger and snobbery, and I hate myself more each time I walk away and leave the matter unresolved.”

  “So tell him this.”

  Laughing, Rachel dabbed her eyes. “You make it sound so simple.”

  “Why does it have to be hard? You obviously still care for this man. He isn’t married, and you will be working closely together under the same roof. I’d say this isn’t likely to be a situation that will go unquestioned for long.”

  “I know you’re right. I’ve seen him go out of his way to talk to me.”

  “What happened?”

  “I went out of my way not to be talked to,” Rachel replied with a hint of a grin. “I just keep thinking that I’ll accidently open my mouth and out will pour all manner of thought that I’ve kept buried and wo
uld like to keep hidden for good. I mean, what if I suddenly declare my feelings and he laughs at me? What if he despises me for my weakness?” Simone shook her head and let go of Rachel’s hand. Easing back into her chair, she crossed her arms. “You must stop this nonsense of worrying ‘what if?’and talk to him. Take him aside on the pretense of business and force him to listen to what you have to say. Just be honest. If he won’t listen to you, then you will have at least tried.”

  “I’m afraid it isn’t Braeden who refuses to listen. It’s me. I suppose I’m just as afraid of what he might say.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like it was a good idea for us to part company and how he’s glad we never married. I could just see myself baring my heart, then having to watch as he devours it.”

  Simone nodded. “Or you can say nothing and always wonder.”

  Silence filled the room for several moments as the two women simply looked at each other. Rachel wished the answer were that easy, but she knew deep inside that the entire matter of Braeden Parker was anything but.

  “I let hearsay destroy my life. Even knowing what the Bible says about avoiding idle talk, I allowed it to influence my choices in life. I refused to trust my heart on the matter because I was young and figured my nai had led me to this place. I never gave Braeden a chance to defend himself because I’d always known my mother to be right about the things going on around us.” Rachel sighed. “I don’t know if we can go back to what we had.”

  “Then don’t,” Simone replied matter-of-factly. “Go forward to something better.”

  “I just don’t know.” Rachel felt overwhelmed and frightened by the feelings raging within her. One minute she was convinced that Simone was right and she was ready to march across the lobby and plant herself in Braeden’s office and tell him everything. The next minute she was certain that as soon as she admitted to having feelings for him, Braeden would mock her and cause her further pain.

  “A wise woman once told me that God does nothing by chance. He has a perfect order for everything. Do you still stand by that philosophy, or was that just a flowery speech for my benefit?”

  “I still believe that,” Rachel finally admitted.

  “Then God must have brought you two together for a reason. And if not for love, then for reconciliation,” Simone said softly. “Either way, you win.”

  “But if he doesn’t return my feelings—” “You’ll be in no worse a state than you are right now.”

  “But he’ll know how I feel.”

  “So your pride gets a little singed,” Simone replied. “At least you’ll know, and you’ll have this matter behind you. Either way, I’m figuring that God is big enough for the job.”

  Rachel considered Simone’s words long after she’d gone. She had very nearly convinced herself that leveling with Braeden was the right thing to do when Reginald approached, declaring that it was time to finish interviewing the last of the kitchen staff.

  “I have two men who should do nicely for the baking,” he told her. “And there’s a local boy, Tomas Sanchez, who is in desperate need of employment. I thought he might work out well as a general errand boy and stocker. He’s only sixteen, but he’s now the man of his family.”

  Rachel thought of the awesome responsibility. “Are there many in his family?”

  “I should say so. He has eight brothers and sisters, a sickly mother, and an ancient grandmother. He’s the only one old enough to seek employment.”

  “Give him the job,” Rachel quickly agreed and dabbed at her forehead. The afternoon heat was quite taxing, making everyone irritable.

  “Would you rather I take responsibility for hiring the bakers? That is to say, I see no reason you should have to add to your labors when they will be under my direct supervision.”

  Rachel smiled. Reginald was always looking for ways to ease her burden. “That would be wonderful, Reginald.”

  “Call me Reg. Reginald always sounds so formal. You Americans are good about putting aside formalities and ceremony—let it be so between us.”

  “All right, Reg,” Rachel replied and smiled. “As hot as it is, I’m not about to argue with you or anyone else.”

  “September is said to be a cooler month. I believe we shall enjoy an enchanting Indian summer, with less severity in temperature.”

  “Who told you this?” she questioned, knowing that Reg was as foreign to this part of the country as she was.

  “Mrs. Needlemeier. The woman is a vast source of information. She informed me where I might find fresh mint. Her gardener planted an abundance, and she has given me leave to harvest it whenever I have need.”

  Rachel smiled. “Nothing seems to escape Mrs. Needlemeier’s attention.”

  “She has a bevy of other herbs in her private garden and has also made these available to the Harvey House. I told her we could pay, but she said that was nonsense and shooed me away.”

  Rachel could well imagine the scene. She dabbed her forehead again and silently wished she could go lie down and cool off as many of her girls were doing. Reg must have sensed her exhaustion because in the next moment, he turned her away from the kitchen.

  “I am perfectly capable of handling this job. You go rest. You are very much like our beloved Queen Victoria. Her majesty is wellknown for her hard work. You are like her in that way and in many others,” Reginald said, guiding Rachel gently to the door of the Harvey Girl’s parlor. “I will bid you good-afternoon and leave you to rest. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to one so lovely and delicate as you, Rachel.”

  Rachel thought his concern to be quite refreshing. She wondered why Braeden couldn’t respond to her in such a tender way. It seemed that whenever they met up, he was always sarcastic and forceful, and Rachel, angry and scared.

  “Thank you, Reg,” she finally said, noticing that he seemed to be awaiting her decision. “I think I will go rest for a little while. I’m sure to be a new person once the sun goes down.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Reg replied. “Then off with you, and I will return to my duties.”

  Rachel nodded and left him there in the kitchen. The parlor was empty as she moved through it to the adjoining hall. She smiled to think of Reg comparing her to Queen Victoria. Rachel had once seen a picture of the woman in a newspaper. It was her golden jubilee or some other sort of celebration. The woman was not at all a pleasantlooking sort, but instead wore her authority in her very expression. She could certainly not be called a beauty, although Rachel recalled having heard that in her youth she had been quite lovely.

  “But youth fades,” Rachel sighed, bringing her hand to her cheek, as if feeling her own face wrinkle and wither. “Time is passing by quickly for me. It won’t be that many years before I’m thirty, and then my life will be half over and I’ll still have nothing more to show for it than this.”

  She looked down the hallway of doors and polished wood floors and sighed. For all her responsibility and the admiration of her superiors, it would never compensate for the lack of love and family in her life. For although she loved her job and even loved her girls, at least most of them, they would never fill the need inside her nor satisfy her hunger for marriage and children.

  “If you have a purpose, Lord,” she said, glancing upward, “I certainly pray you reveal it soon. Otherwise I shall end up as old and wrinkled as Queen Victoria, without the country and family to show for it.”

  NINE

  SET AMIDST AN ARCHED GROTTO, the hot springs at Casa Grande generated an invigorating flow of warm mineral waters that made it a particularly welcome attraction. Even in the heat of summer, the hot springs were sought out by the staff of Casa Grande for entertainment and restoration. With her work completed, Rachel thought a dip in the springs would be just the thing to help her sleep better.

  She donned a bathing suit supplied by the hotel and laughed at the shortness of the skirt. It barely came to the middle of her stocking-and-bloomer-covered legs. The top, with short, fitted sleeves, buttoned up t
he middle to her neck. Rachel had never worn anything so daring and still had trouble believing it acceptable to be seen in such a condition—especially without a corset. She pulled on her robe, took up a book of poems and a towel, and steadied her nerves. The hour was well past the time when most of the staff went to the pool, so she kept her confidence and hoped she might be the only one there. She had no desire to share small talk with any of the girls—most were considerably younger and chattered away about the handsome men they’d known or had seen. Such talk was boring at best, and at worst it depressed Rachel.

  It wasn’t for a lack of understanding, because Rachel knew what it was to daydream about such things. But the pain it stirred deep inside made her miserable, and therefore it seemed senseless to occupy herself with such idle conversation. Besides, she was their supervisor. A motherly, matronly figure who told them what to do and when. And although she enjoyed a closeness with the girls, Rachel knew it didn’t compare to the camaraderie that they shared with one another as peers. They might come to her with their problems, hoping for solutions and an understanding ear, but they were not likely to share their dreams or invite her to partake in their entertainment.

  At least there was Simone, and that was a great comfort to Rachel. Perhaps God had perfectly interceded on Rachel’s behalf by having Simone be unable to work at Casa Grande. Now they could just be friends and not worry after the incidentals of running a business.

  Rachel slipped out the back door and made her way around the side of the resort to where a stone walkway led to a lighted path to the pools. Once the guests actually arrived at Casa Grande, Rachel would wait to change her clothes at the bathhouses that extended off the stone grotto, but for now it was far more convenient to do things this way. She hummed as she made her way in the darkness. Somehow it helped her feel less self-conscious about her appearance. She tried to believe what Simone had told her about having a fine figure, but it was difficult at best. Rachel had always believed that beauty came from within a person, and right now she didn’t feel at all beautiful.