Maria sighed. “I worried over you more than I worried over any of the other children. And now here you sit, a thoughtful and kind grown woman.” She kissed Hazel’s forehead. “I won’t insist you make any calls you don’t want to make. I trust your judgment.”
No remarks on her beauty or manners would ever mean so much as a genuine observation on her character. “I do wish I could have spared you so much worry.”
“When you are a mother, you’ll know the joy I’m feeling now. It makes no difference that it was a long time coming. Perhaps it’s even a little sweeter because it took so long.”
“I hope I’m as patient a mother as you.” Hazel shifted in her seat, trying to ease the tension in her back from the many hours sitting hunched in a chair beside Matty.
“I hope you get a daughter exactly like you. Then you’ll know just how patient I had to be.” They laughed together. Then her mother’s face grew serious. “I’m glad you’ve begun dreaming of a family.”
“I had stopped believing in love. And that anyone could ever want me, especially while I was at the reformatory. I believed no one would wish to be with a woman with such a record.”
Her mother searched her face. “And now you’ve found reason to believe again. Is that what you’re telling me?”
“I have.” She didn’t shy away. Her love needed no approval. She knew it was a sweet and pure love, but she did hope to have her parents’ blessing. “I watched my dear friend Ina find love with her Duncan. And since I’ve seen you with Father again, I’ve realized that what you have is lasting. I even saw a glimpse of it with Gilbert.”
“He seemed to be a good man.”
Hazel laid her head on her mother’s shoulder and sighed. “I don’t care that he’s not wealthy . . . it seems that everything I wanted before doesn’t matter now. He’s not what I used to dream of, but he’s all I dream of now.”
“You are a good woman. I can think of no better combination.”
Hazel’s time at home passed quickly as she relished the love of her family. The moments with her father were just as sweet as those with her mother. They discussed the past, both eager to apologize for all that had transpired. He was not as affectionate as her mother, but he had his own ways of showing he cared. Little things such as taking her with him when he went out or asking the cook to make her favorite foods.
And of course, she never tired of being near Mathilda and her other siblings. Day after day she sat in the sickroom reading, playing her flute, and telling Mathilda about her time away. Hazel breathed easier as her sister’s health continually improved.
“Once I went to a corn husking, and a man got a red ear of corn. In Amherst, a red ear of corn means the finder gets to kiss the lady of his choice,” Hazel explained one afternoon.
“Did someone kiss you?” Mathilda put a hand to her chest. “Did they?”
“Yes. In front of everyone. Can you imagine?”
Mathilda gasped. “Was it terribly embarrassing?”
“No, it was terribly romantic.” She laughed. When she stopped, she grew thoughtful. “But not all kisses are. Some kisses are all about taking. This man, though, has a way about him that’s different.”
“I hope to be kissed someday,” Mathilda said, sounding very much like Ina had sounded not so long ago—clinging to romantic ideals and hoping for afternoon strolls and bouquets of flowers.
Hazel reached for her hand. “Wait to kiss someone honorable, and wait until it means something. Learn from my mistakes, and remember that kisses are not something to carelessly throw around.”
“Did your kiss at the corn husking mean something?” she asked.
Putting her hand to her cheek, she could almost feel the gentle touch of Gilbert’s lips. “It did. It meant a great deal.”
In her room that night, she penned a letter to Gilbert. She told him about Mathilda’s health and how it was slowly improving. She shared about the numerous times she’d seen Nathaniel’s parents and the joy she found in their home. She rambled on about her siblings and the food the cook was making and the wintry weather.
Everyone is eager to hear my tale. Who knew I’d be so popular? I decline most of the invitations, preferring to spend my time reconnecting with my family, but my days still fill up. At first, I was afraid of going out, knowing Patrick had not been apprehended. But the police are nearly certain he’s fled the city, and I am so tired of living in fear that I have chosen to carry on with life.
I think of you often. I think of the hill we walked on together. I think of the corn husking. I think of the look you have on your face when I play my flute. I wonder if you’ve painted anything new and what you’re creating in your art room. Has Alberta come in? If she has, I’m sorry you had to treat her alone. Know you are in my thoughts, though it’d be much nicer if you were in my presence.
I don’t know when I’ll be free to come and see you. Soon, I hope. Until that time, I remain your friend in spirit.
Affectionately,
Hazel
PS: I played my flute today, and I thought of you.
She wanted to include other thoughts in her letter, but some things were better said in person.
“Gilbert, we’ve missed seeing you.” Ina shook the snow from her skirts after entering the dental office. “How have you been?”
He cleared his throat. If he told Ina how he’d been practicing dentistry in mechanical motion and moping around each evening, he’d sound pathetic. Missing a woman so deeply that he felt it every moment of every day was new territory for him. “I’ve been busy working.”
“You miss her, don’t you?” Ina said. “I miss her too, and I worry about her. Patrick hasn’t been apprehended yet. I hate thinking that he is out there.”
“I worry too, but what else can we do? Everyone in Buffalo is looking for him.” His hands clenched at his sides. “I’ve been giving her time to settle back in and be with her family, but it’s hard being so far away.”
“Have you heard from her?”
“She sent a letter, and she sounds busy and happy. Her family and the entire city seem to be thrilled she is back.”
“I am glad she is happy there, but that does not mean she doesn’t miss you.”
He looked around the office, his jaw flexed. Every corner of it was full of memories of her. “It was simpler before. Now I don’t know what to do or to think. I take care of my patients, go home alone, and wait.”
“You’ve got to let her know you miss her. She told me when we first met that she did not believe in romance. But later she confessed she did. You are the only one I can think of who could have changed her stance. You should be honest and tell her how you feel.”
“I have not kept my feelings a secret.”
“You could . . . you could offer a grand gesture.” Ina, who could do no wrong, had a mischievous look on her face. “There must be something you could do. Something that would shout your love for her in a way only she would understand.”
“Has Duncan ever performed a grand gesture? Is that how he won your affection?”
“He has consistently done the most perfect small acts of love, but there also have been grand gestures.” She put her hand on her heart. “When he takes me on his arm, he holds his head high. I know he’s not ashamed to be seen with me. That was the first grand gesture he gave me. The next was when he let me share his daughter. But for Hazel, it would have to be something different. Something that shows her what’s in your heart and tells her you will love her always. A gift, an act of service . . . only you know what.”
Gilbert rubbed his forehead. “I’ll have to think on it. I haven’t much experience with grand gestures. Or with romance. Or even with women. The fact that I am smitten still scares me.”
Ina laughed. “I think romance scares us all, at least a little. But don’t be so scared that you can’t open up your heart and let her see what’s inside. Whatever you do, don’t think too long. Just act. I want my friend to come home for your sake—and for mi
ne.” She grabbed the door handle. “I have to go. I’m meeting Duncan this afternoon. We’re going to pick out fabric for a dress for Amy to wear to the wedding. But I couldn’t walk past and not say hello.”
Gilbert said goodbye and watched her go, then he sat back in his chair and contemplated grand gestures, hearts, and bold proclamations of love.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
Hazel set her flute back in its case and made her way from the music room toward the stairs. It was getting late, yet she was in no rush to go to her room. But with everyone else in bed, she had no reason to stall. She peered into the sickroom before making her way toward her own bedchamber. Matty rested easily, still not fully recovered but past the worst of her convalescing. It wouldn’t be long, and the doctor no doubt would declare her in good health.
A pounding sounded at the front door. Loud and persistent, then softer and weaker. Hazel rushed from Matty’s room as quickly as she could. Two paces from the door, she froze. Her heart raced as her breath came shallowly and rapidly. Something was wrong. She backed away from the door and tried to yell for help, but her voice wouldn’t obey.
Her father rushed past her toward the door, joined by an older male servant who was dressed in his nightclothes. She pressed her back against the wall, leaning on it for support. Memories assaulted her from all sides as she remembered the night Nathaniel was brought to her injured. She tried to keep the memories at bay, but they battered her.
Her father flung open the door. Hazel pressed her eyes shut, wrapped her arms around her middle, and held her breath while she waited.
“Hazel, help us.” Her father’s voice roused her senses. “Quickly.”
She forced her eyes open, only to see a woman collapsed in the entryway. Her father and their servant knelt beside her. Hazel regained her strength as she rushed to their side to offer assistance. The woman wore nothing but tattered clothing. Her hair was a mess of wet tangles—from the snow perhaps. Her disheveled appearance was certainly cause for alarm, but it was the blood on her face and arms that Hazel found most shocking.
“What happened?” her father asked while lifting the woman and making his way toward the parlor with the woman weak in his arms. Hazel shivered as they walked by her.
“Patrick Harper. Charlotte told me to come here.” The woman rallied, her arms coming around Hazel’s father and grasping him tightly around the neck as though she feared uttering his name would somehow bring the man himself.
Hazel and her father shared a startled glance. Who was this woman?
“Lock the doors,” Hazel said, now fully engaged. “Someone must fetch the police and a doctor.”
“Do as she says,” her father snapped at their servant. “I’m sorry,” he said, correcting himself. “It’s important.”
Hazel followed after the servant. “Quick as you can, go out the back door and tell the police to come. Send for a doctor, then send word to Gilbert Watts in Amherst. Pay whatever you must to get the message out quickly. Tell him I need him.”
“Yes, miss. I’ll send word right away. Don’t you worry.” He left, and she prayed he would go quickly.
Sending for Gilbert was hasty and impulsive, but with each beat of her heart, she felt certain his presence would somehow soothe her nerves and do her heart a world of good. She’d missed him. Every day her heart had ached for him, but now with a threat looming, she needed him.
Her mother came down the stairs, wide-eyed and afraid. “What’s going on? I heard commotion.”
Hazel told her all that had occurred. “You should sit with Mathilda. The police have already been sent for.”
“Yes, I’ll sit with her. But you must tell me if anything changes.”
“I will.”
Her mother went back toward the stairs. “I will tell your brother to keep everyone upstairs. I don’t want them in the way.”
Over the next hour, Hazel bathed and saw to the unexpected guest’s wounds. The doctor sent word that he would come soon and apologized for being unable to make it right away. The poor girl slipped in and out of consciousness, limiting their ability to question her and giving them reason to fear for her life. She was weak, terribly injured, and obviously malnourished. Eventually, she drifted into a deep slumber. While she slept, Hazel’s father asked, “Do you suppose she’s . . . that she’s a fallen woman?”
“I don’t know.” Hazel pulled the blanket up tighter around the sickly woman’s shoulder. “She may be. When I look at her, I see a girl with a story. Like my friends at the reformatory.”
“Hazel—”
“Father, I lived with girls like this for five years. Girls who were desperate or abused or who’d been misled.” She looked at the face of the young woman. It was hard to gauge her age, but Hazel guessed she was sixteen or seventeen. So young and still with her whole future ahead if only she could escape the past. What horrors had she seen? “I won’t judge her even if she is a woman of the night. No one is unredeemable.” She hadn’t meant to say the last bit with so much force, but she’d come to believe it in such a personal and powerful way that the passion in her voice could not be helped. “I’ll sit with her if you want to go to bed.”
“I’ll wait up for the police and the doctor to arrive.” He stared at her for a long moment. “Bless you, child. Your vision is clearer than mine.”
He left a moment later when the police announced themselves through the door. Hazel was alone with the poor sleeping waif. She could think of no other ways to ease the girl’s suffering, so she leaned back in her chair, but then the girl moaned.
“It’s all right,” Hazel cooed. “You’re safe now. Can you speak?”
“Where am I?”
“You’re at the Bradshaw home. I’m Hazel, and we’re caring for you the best we can. A doctor will be here soon.” Hazel kept her voice soft. “Will you tell me your name and what’s brought you here?”
“Lizzy,” she whispered through cracked lips. Hazel brought a cup of water to Lizzy’s mouth and helped her drink. “Patrick came to the brothel all raging mad a week or so back. He was yellin’ and screamin’ about how everything was ruined. We all knew to stay away from him when he got like that, but this time was different. There was no avoiding him.”
“What happened?”
“He kicked over tables and acted like a man out of his head.” She paused and caught her breath. “He grabbed me by my hair and drug me out of there with him. I fought him, but he was so strong.”
“Did no one try to stop him?”
Lizzy shook her head. Her scared eyes turned sad. “No one cared. Some of the girls might have, but they couldn’t do nothin’.”
During her time at the reformatory Hazel had heard many tragic stories. Tales of women fighting to survive and struggling to feed themselves and painful stories of neglect and violence. She’d heard hundreds of stories but still she felt the sting of Lizzy’s.
“How did you come to find me?”
“He kept me with him for a week, beatin’ on me and doing whatever he liked. He was always yellin’ about Hazel Bradshaw and how he’s gonna kill you. Says you ruined everything and are gonna pay for it. Says he should have killed you before.” Lizzy pushed herself up in bed and winced. “He drank so much, he passed out before tying me up tonight. I ran away and went to Charlotte’s, but she was too scared that Patrick would come there. She said for me to get help from you. She told me where you lived, said you told her she could come by if she ever needed something.”
“I did say that. I meant it too. Where is Patrick now?”
“He’s out of his head. I ain’t seen nothing like it. I think when he wakes up, he’ll come here and do everything he said he would. I think he’ll kill you if he can. He’ll kill me too. I didn’t know where else to go.” Lizzy started breathing hard and heavy. Hazel feared she’d go unconscious again. “He’s gonna kill us,” she said over and over, trembling with fear.
“Hush.” Hazel rubbed her arm. “Try to calm yourself.
We’ll guard the house, and you’ll be safe. I’m glad you came here. We’ll take care of you. You needn’t worry now.”
With Hazel’s calm assurance, Lizzy settled and soon drifted back to sleep. Hazel went to find her father, who was with the policemen, discussing the predicament. She told them what Lizzy had told her.
“Did she say where Patrick was located?” a tall officer asked.
“No. She’s quite despondent and overwhelmed right now. I don’t think I’d be able to get an answer from her. But she’s certain Patrick is going to try and kill me. By tomorrow she may be able to think with a clear mind.”
The officer nodded. His eyes were intense but sympathetic. “Capturing Patrick Harper is high on the department’s list right now. They want him brought in before he can get away. His list of crimes is nearly endless. Don’t you worry, miss, we will put an end to your troubles.”
“We could guard this house tonight, and tomorrow we can get Patrick’s location from the girl. The chief can determine the best course of action then,” the shorter, less animated officer said. “We shouldn’t be hasty. Besides, the girl says he’s drunk and unconscious. I don’t think he’ll come anytime soon.”
“No! I want my family safe.” Hazel stood and paced the floor. “I could go somewhere else.”
“Stay here. It’s easier for us to guard one house than several. And I’d imagine he knows you are here, so your family is in danger already,” the first officer chimed in. “But he might be all talk and never come. I wouldn’t be surprised if he leaves and we never see him again.”
“I just sat next to a girl he beat. And that happened while we all thought he was gone. We can’t be too careful.” Hazel let out a puff of air. “I wouldn’t assume anything of him. He’s clearly mad.”
“That woman’s a—”
“I don’t care what you think she is. Any man who would lay hands on a woman is a monster.” There wasn’t time to set these men straight on everything, not with a criminal looming close by. “I was afraid of this.”
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