“We must not allow that, Mrs. Thoresen. So I have taken it upon myself to provide the security and protection she and the child will need—and better than last time, I might add.”
“Oh?”
Martha Palmer’s head wagged over her cane. “Yes. Nine men stand on your porch at this very moment. Mr. O’Dell recommended their leader, who hand-picked each of them. They are now in my employ. Two of them will be on guard at all times. An automobile is at their disposal for Mei-Xing’s needs. When she leaves the house, they will accompany her. When she sleeps, they will watch over her and this house.”
As Mrs. Palmer spoke Rose’s brows lifted. “How long will they guard her and the baby?”
Martha Palmer’s eyes narrowed. “As long as there is a threat, Mrs. Thoresen. As long as there is a threat.”
Her voice roughened. “I am an old woman. I have no family other than a nephew I have not seen in years. You may not realize this, but you and the girls in this house are very dear to me—as dear as family can be. And Mei-Xing . . .”
Her voice trembling as she spoke, Martha Palmer declared, “I will not allow anyone to lay a finger on her.”
Rose nodded, grateful. “I thank you, Mrs. Palmer. Your protection will be very welcome to Mei-Xing. To all of us.”
“Good. Then I would like a few words with Mei-Xing—alone, if you please—after which I will introduce the men in my employ. They will assume their duties today.”
“I will send her to you.”
Rose left the room and went in search of Mei-Xing. She found her at the kitchen table with Breona. “Mei-Xing, Mrs. Palmer would like a word in private with you.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”
Mei-Xing entered the parlor and closed the door behind her. “You wished to see me, Mrs. Palmer?”
“Yes, my dear. Come sit by me so I may speak to you.” When Mei-Xing had settled in a chair near Mrs. Palmer, the old woman laid a fragile hand upon Mei-Xing’s.
“Do you wish to continue with me in your previous position?”
Mei-Xing was surprised and at a loss for words. “I-I did not think it would be possible . . . at this time . . . in my condition.” She looked down, shamed.
“My dear, I go out less and less these days. It will not be necessary for you to go into public while you are expecting.”
Mei-Xing thought and then said, “But . . . in a few months, when the . . . baby comes?”
Mrs. Palmer nodded. “When you came to work for me I offered you two options. One of them was to live in my home. I would like you to consider moving to my home again.”
Mei-Xing cocked her head, just a little, a familiar indication that she was thinking. “I thank you for your generous proposal,” she replied quietly, “I am sincerely grateful but . . . but this is my home. I regret that I cannot accept your offer.”
Mrs. Palmer cleared her throat. “I thought as much, but I wanted to see if you might change your mind.”
“I shall be sorry to leave your employ,” Mei-Xing whispered.
“Nonsense. You are not leaving my employ! You will continue living here and I see no reason why you cannot bring the babe to work with you. When he is a little older, one of the maids will watch him when necessary. Let me make myself perfectly clear: I require your services and will make whatever accommodations are needed.”
Mei-Xing drew a shaky breath. “I cannot believe you are being so kind to me. But I . . . will not my having a baby outside of marriage reflect poorly on you?”
Martha Palmer made a noise that held more than a hint of derision. “I stopped concerning myself with what people thought of me a long time ago. I care only for my Savior’s opinion and that of those he has given me to” —her voice caught for just a second— “to love.”
She cleared her throat. “So. You will assume your duties as soon as it is practical. When your laying in comes, you will take as much time as you need to regain your strength. When you come back to work, the child will come with you. Are we agreed?”
Mei-Xing nodded. “Yes, ma’am. You are more than considerate!”
“Posh! Now that is settled, we have but one more piece of business to conclude.”
Mei-Xing looked confused. “I beg your pardon?”
Martha patted Mei-Xing’s hand once more. “I spent some time with Mr. O’Dell before he left for Chicago. You have been a very private person about your past, my dear, but some of that must give way now for the safety of your child, hey?”
Mei-Xing’s head jerked up and her face paled with alarm.
“Yes,” Martha insisted. “I now know about this baby’s father and his unscrupulous mother. We must take precautions, you and I, to ensure your continued safety and that of your child. To that end, I have made certain arrangements.
“Please tell Mrs. Thoresen that I would see her and you in the great room. And ask Mr. Wheatley to show the gentlemen on the porch to the same room.”
A few minutes later Rose, Mei-Xing, Breona, Mr. Wheatley, Mrs. Palmer, and nine strangers faced each other in the house’s great room. Mrs. Palmer introduced one of the strangers, a tall man with dark brown hair.
“This is Mr. Gresham and his associates. Mr. O’Dell recommended Mr. Gresham, and I have hired him to oversee the safety and security of Mei-Xing, her baby, and this house. Mr. Gresham, will you please outline the details you and I agreed upon?”
“Yes, ma’am, Mrs. Palmer. I am Samuel Gresham. I am an old friend of Mr. O’Dell’s, with whom I believe you are well acquainted?”
When he received nods in the affirmative, Gresham continued. “Mr. O’Dell can vouch for my experience and professionalism in the field of personal security. My men and I, at Mrs. Palmer’s direction, will work in armed, two-man shifts to provide protective services to Miss Li at all times and on all days.”
He addressed himself to Mei-Xing. “Miss Li, once you are acquainted with us, we hope you will feel comfortable with our presence. We will provide automobile service for you to travel from here to Mrs. Palmer’s home and back each day; we will accompany you—discreetly, of course—on any outings; and we will mount a guard on this house at the end of each day.
“While we were waiting outside, we did a surveillance of the house and grounds. You have, I believe, two cottages in the back of the property?” Gresham looked to Rose for the answer to his query.
“Yes,” Rose replied. “Mr. and Mrs. Evans live in one cottage; my daughter and her husband, Mr. and Mrs. Michaels, live in the other.”
“Very good, ma’am. We will include them in our rounds.”
He turned and introduced his men. “Please meet my crew, Misters Donaldson, Morrow, Cluney, Betts, Goldstein, Jeffers, Hicks, and Rawley.” Each man, as his name was called, nodded.
Gresham turned again to Mei-Xing. “Do you have any questions, miss?”
Mei-Xing ducked her head and shook it.
“Does anyone else have questions? No?”
“Thank you, Mr. Gresham,” Martha Palmer signaled the end of the meeting. “Please assume your posts.”
“Thank you, ma’am. Morrow and Jeffers will be on duty until four o’clock today.” Gresham gestured with his chin; his men nodded and filed out.
Minister Liáng stared at the wire on his desk. He smoothed the paper and read it again. Mr. O’Dell would not be returning to Seattle any time soon.
Liáng was frustrated.
Yes, O’Dell’s first wire had confirmed (covertly) that Mei-Xing was safe, yet Liáng, along with Bao, knew little more! They had no details regarding Mei-Xing’s rescue and still had many questions: Who had taken her from the porch of Palmer House last November? Where had she been held all those months and where was she found? Was she in good health? More importantly to Liáng, would he be able to facilitate a reunion between Mei-Xing and her parents?
Aside from these issues, Liáng grew more concerned for Bao each day: Fang-Hua’s men were actively scouring the city for him.
He would be much safer—and I would breat
he easier—if I could remove him from Seattle, Liáng mused. Denver is a good distance away.
Liáng sighed, studied his busy calendar, and came to a decision. His elders would chafe at another absence—had he not taken leave less than six months ago? But Liáng was resolute: He must go to Denver and see Mei-Xing for himself.
I will take Bao with me, he decided. He is in too much danger here. Perhaps the Lord will open a door of refuge for him there.
Joy forced herself to swallow a bite of toast and waited. No, it was not going to stay down. Even as she was losing the little she had put in her stomach, Joy laughed.
Blackie, curled under their little table, whined and watched her with anxious eyes. “I am fine, Blackie,” she reassured him. “More than fine!”
I am truly pregnant! she rejoiced. She could scarcely believe it! Although she was mere weeks along, she knew exactly when she had conceived—the night they had received the news concerning Grant’s health.
A miracle, Lord, she breathed. You have given us a great gift, a miracle.
As soon as words “given us” crossed through her thoughts, her heart twisted. Grant would be overjoyed, just as she was, but their delight would be bittersweet, tempered by the doctor’s prognosis: Grant would likely not live to see his child grow up.
Joy wiped her mouth and took a sip of water. Grant had left their little cottage several minutes before to fetch the morning paper from the front porch of Palmer House. That daily task left him fatigued, but he would not give it up.
She sat down and, while Blackie rested his head on her leg, Joy nibbled again on the slice of toast. This time it seemed to settle in her queasy stomach. She turned to dressing for the day.
She had just finished brushing and braiding her hair when Grant returned with the paper under his arm. He sat down on their little sofa and lowered his head to catch his breath. Joy sat down next to him and waited.
“Grant.”
He nodded but had not yet become comfortable in his breathing. A few minutes later he looked up, his face still pale. “Sorry.”
“There’s no call to be sorry, darling,” Joy replied. “But perhaps we should follow Dr. Peabody’s recommendation?”
“You mean for the breathing apparatus?”
Joy nodded. “He declares it will make you more comfortable. I do not like to see you like this.”
Grant thought for a moment. “All right.”
“I will call his office for you,” Joy offered, glad that he had agreed. “But first . . . first, I have something to tell you. Something . . . wonderful.”
“Oh?” Grant teased. Joy grinned, so glad to see his normally cheerful disposition reassert itself. He reached for her and she slid into his arms. “What wonderful news do you have for me, eh?”
“Weeell,” Joy let the word drag until he squeezed her.
“Come on, you little tease!” he laughed. “Just tell me.”
“All right. But I must watch your face as I do.”
She drew away so that they were face to face. She stared into his hazel eyes, the beautiful eyes of the man she fallen in love with. “Grant.”
“Yes, Love?”
“I’m going to have a baby.”
Grant’s face paled further. He stilled, and Joy read the many conflicting thoughts and emotions as they raced across his face.
“Truly?”
Joy nodded. “Yes, truly.”
“We have wanted a baby for a long time, haven’t we?”
Joy nodded again. So many of his memories were still gone; he often had to call on her to validate his spotty recollections. “For years. Are you happy?”
“I . . . I am overjoyed . . . but . . .”
“I know, my darling.” Tears tickled down Joy’s face. “But, please, let us embrace this gift from God and not think of later on! As long as we can, let us enjoy the love and blessings we have.”
“Yes, you are right.” Grant held her and turned her news over in his mind. “Why, I’m going to be a father! Oh, Joy. This is the most wonderful news.”
“Oh, it is, Grant! And I would like to hold this wonderful news just between us, at least for a few weeks. Is that all right?”
Grant kissed Joy’s forehead, then her eyes, her nose, and finally her mouth. “I may not be able to keep it to myself but, as you wish, I will try.”
Later that morning Joy called Dr. Peabody’s office and ordered the breathing machine he had recommended.
“Dr. Peabody requests that you and Mr. Michaels come to the office and receive training on the use of the machine,” his nurse instructed. “Then we will have it delivered. Replacement tanks will be delivered each week.”
Joy wondered how much such a machine and its parts would cost and how they would afford them. She steadfastly pushed those thoughts from her mind.
Dear Miss Greenbow,
O’Dell stared at the paper. Now what should I write? O’Dell had spent two days scribing a thick stack of reports for Parsons, all the while knowing that this letter was overdue and feeling less and less inclined to write it.
And while O’Dell’s reports withheld no detail, however small, regarding his search for Su-Chong Chen and Mei-Xing, his communications with Miss Greenbow—Darla—must be circumspect. Her safety—and Bao’s—dictated that O’Dell not mention certain names or places.
Dear Miss Greenbow,
Although I had intended to return to Seattle as soon as my business in D. was complete, I was summoned back to my home office and could not refuse. You know how many months I have been away from my employer. Management seems bent on exercising its will over my time and pursuits in an effort to recoup a portion of my services lost during my convalescence.
O’Dell’s lip curled. Not much of a start to a love letter, Ed, old man, he scoffed. O’Dell set his pen on the desk to finally examine his feelings for the woman to whom he wrote.
Darla Greenbow. Calm, competent, strong. A true friend.
A lover and follower of God, O’Dell added. She had withstood O’Dell in his most cantankerous moods and modeled her faith before him with tenacity and humor.
That he liked Miss Greenbow was evident. A smile touched his mouth just thinking about her. He liked and admired her. And he saw something in her that they shared: They were both “getting on” and were desirous of finding a suitable match and building a family. She would love him faithfully and be an exceptional mother—of that he had no doubt.
Is that all I want? O’Dell queried himself. A suitable wife and a family? That was where his heart was stuck.
I don’t know if I will ever love Miss Greenbow as . . .
O’Dell did not dare complete the sentence. He did not dare fill in the name.
That avenue is closed. Forever, he reminded himself. I must move on and Darla is a wonderful, godly woman.
O’Dell was new to his faith, but not so new that he did not recognize the sweet, soft Voice that pricked at his conscience.
Then she deserves someone who will love her unreservedly.
He sighed. Picked up his pen and reread, Management seems bent on exercising its will over my time and location in an effort to recoup a portion of my services lost during my convalescence. Added, Therefore, I do not know when I will be returning to Seattle.
He hesitated.
I must beg your pardon and ask that you forgive me. Your friendship has been a blessing to my new life in Christ but, given our distance, I feel I should not write again and encourage hopes to which I cannot give myself wholeheartedly.
He ground his fingers into his eyes. I don’t want to hurt her, Lord!
You must speak the truth in love. It is better to hurt than to harm.
Shaking his head, O’Dell penned the final words.
Cordially,
Edmund O’Dell
He stuffed the letter into an envelope and addressed it before his courage deserted him.
~~**~~
Chapter 3
Breona sat on the edge of her bed watching Mei-
Xing sleep in the bed just across the room they shared. Four weeks had passed since Mei-Xing’s return to Palmer House.
Lord, ’tis bein’ ever so grateful I am t’ have my dearest friend back! Breona prayed. Sure an’ she has suffered much, boot I’m thankin’ you for givin’ her back t’ us! We will keep ’er an’ ’er wee un safe an’ loved. Smiling, she headed downstairs to begin the day’s chores.
Later that day Mr. Wheatley answered the front doorbell. “Minister Liáng! Come in, come in! You must have heard our good news!”
“Yes, Mr. O’Dell was kind enough to send me a wire so I would know she had been found. However, he has been delayed in his return to Seattle. With no details about Mei-Xing’s well-being and after reading the accounts of Su-Chong’s death in the newspapers, the lack of information preyed on my mind. I felt I needed to come and see with my own eyes how she is.”
Mr. Wheatley showed Liáng to the parlor. The young minister seated himself but waited far longer than he had expected for Mei-Xing to appear. After half an hour, Rose Thoresen greeted him instead.
“Minister Liáng, it is a pleasure to see you in Denver again. I apologize for making you wait—Breona will bring tea shortly.” They exchanged pleasantries for another quarter of an hour until Liáng, anxious to meet Mei-Xing, spoke candidly.
“Mrs. Thoresen, is Miss Li here? I would like to meet her at last and speak with her.”
“She is here, but it was . . . important that we talk first.”
That was when Liáng noticed Rose’s hesitancy and became alarmed. “Is she all right? Mr. O’Dell gave me no information regarding her ordeal or her well-being!”
Breona entered carrying a tea tray just then. Liáng did not miss the suspicious glare the dark-eyed young woman turned on him. Rose waited until Breona left the room to answer Liáng’s question.
“Mei-Xing is well, Mr. Liáng . . . but before she will meet with you I must have your assurance as a gentleman that you will comply with her wishes.”
“Her wishes?”
Stolen (A Prairie Heritage, Book 5) Page 3