“I’d be honored. Thank you.”
“McKinley . . .” The missionary tipped her head as she studied him. “Are you related to the late president by chance?”
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. How many times had he answered the question during his law studies? “No, I’m afraid not.”
Miss Cameron cupped her hand against the girl’s hair as the child burrowed against her side. “I should be going. I need to get the girls to bed—we’re staying with the minister’s family—and then I have business to attend to later this evening.”
“Business?” An inkling grew in the back of Charles’s mind. “Do you mean a rescue? Here in Sacramento?”
“The problem is not isolated to San Francisco, Mr. McKinley. Whenever I travel, I receive pleas from girls in the local communities. How can I refuse to render aid?” She laid one hand on her hip. “And though some would counsel me to focus on politics, I cannot refuse the call God has placed on my life. Where He leads me, I will go.”
Where He leads me . . . Charles pondered the words as he walked Miss Cameron and her young charge to the back of the room to meet the other girls. Had God placed this burning desire in his heart, as well?
***
Elizabeth lingered by a potted palm in the outer hall, nibbling at a hangnail. She’d sent Lillian home with another friend in hopes of speaking to the missionary alone. The assembly hall emptied, the shuffle of footsteps falling silent, but still Mr. McKinley monopolized Miss Cameron’s attention.
Elizabeth pressed a hand to her trembling midsection. Perhaps she should go home and think about this. Pray about it, Papa would say. Her throat tightened. If she waited, she’d lose her nerve. Her father had also encouraged them to live for God and to serve their fellow man. She’d failed on the first part; perhaps she could redeem herself in the second.
The voices grew louder as Miss Cameron and Mr. McKinley approached the doorway. Elizabeth steeled herself, her back as taut as piano wire. She stepped out of the shadows and into their path.
Mr. McKinley’s eyes widened. “Miss King—I didn’t know you were still here. Did you need something else?”
She forced herself to meet his eyes, however briefly. “I’d like a word with Miss Cameron, if she has a moment.” Elizabeth turned to the dignified woman, the missionary’s plumed hat making her appear even taller than the young attorney.
The oldest of the Chinese girls took the hands of the two smallest and led them to a nearby bench.
The lawyer gestured to Elizabeth. “Miss Cameron, allow me to present Miss Elizabeth King. She’s the daughter of one of my clients. I was . . . delighted . . . to encounter her here this evening.”
Miss Cameron took Elizabeth’s hand and shook it warmly. “A pleasure, Miss King.”
“Actually, we’ve met before.” A fluttering took up residence in Elizabeth’s stomach. “In San Francisco—last year, at my brother’s wedding.” Elizabeth spotted confusion in the woman’s eyes. “Dr. Robert King and his wife, Abby?”
Miss Cameron’s face brightened like a gas lamp turned on high. “Abby and Robert, of course! Abby is a dear friend to the Mission. I’m afraid I was unable to stay long enough to make everyone’s acquaintance that day. You’re Robert’s sister? And Ruby’s?”
“Yes.” Elizabeth swallowed, her throat as dry as day-old toast. Was she really going to do this here, in front of Silas McKinley’s nephew? She reached deep within, drawing from a well of inner strength she’d thought lost months before. “I was quite moved by your words—your stories.” She cleared her throat in a vain attempt to steady her voice, “If you were sincere about needing teachers, I’d like to offer my services.”
Mr. McKinley’s jaw dropped.
A wide smile crossed Miss Cameron’s face. “I was in earnest. Our English teacher recently left to marry one of the trustees, and we’ve been without a sewing or music instructor for far too long. What subject interests you?”
Not music. Elizabeth bit her lip. “I graduated from one of the finest schools in Sacramento, but I do not hold a teaching certificate.”
“Our girls don’t care about such formalities. What matters is the heart.”
“I took high marks in English and composition. And I’m told I sew quite well. My sister Ruby taught me everything I know. She’s the truly gifted one.”
Miss Cameron touched the lace trimming Elizabeth’s sleeve. “Did you make this? It’s exquisite.”
Elizabeth glanced down at her dress, the blue silk gleaming under the light. “Yes. I make all of my own clothes.”
Miss Cameron lowered her satchel to the floor. “What of your family? Would they object to your leaving Sacramento, Miss King? And are you . . . attached to anyone here?” The missionary glanced between her and Mr. McKinley. “Pardon me for being indiscreet, but I do not wish to hire another teacher only to lose her in a few months.”
Mr. McKinley stepped back, as if Miss Cameron’s implication caught him off guard.
A sour taste rushed into Elizabeth’s mouth. “No. I am not attached.” Most certainly not to this cretin. “And I am the youngest of seven children. All of my siblings are grown and married with families of their own. My mother is quite busy with charity fundraisers, and I believe she would be relieved to see me otherwise occupied. As you already know, two of my siblings reside in San Francisco, so I am familiar with the city.”
“And your father?”
A shade dropped over Elizabeth’s heart. “He passed when I was young. But he taught me the importance of doing good and putting others’ needs before my own.” If only she’d clung to that. She set her jaw. I’ll make you proud yet, Papa.
Mr. McKinley nodded. “Miss King’s father was a well-respected physician. I’m told he often donated his time to help the city’s underprivileged.”
“It seems he passed a legacy to his children.” Miss Cameron’s brows rose as she focused on Elizabeth. “Your brother treated one of my girls after she had a mishap with a cable car, even though his hospital refuses Chinese patients.” She adjusted her hat, resetting the pearl-topped pin holding it in place. “It appears the Mission may have more reasons to be indebted to the King family in the near future.”
Elizabeth’s spirits lifted like a leaf swirled on an updraft. “I can come?”
“I’ll need to speak to the board, but I don’t expect any objections. How soon could you start?”
Elizabeth dug her fingers into the folds of her skirt to keep from clapping her hands like a child. “As soon as you have need of me.”
3
Charles stepped away, giving Miss Cameron and Miss King privacy to discuss their plans. He’d clearly misjudged the young woman. Here she stood, committing a year of her life to God’s service in one of the darkest sections of San Francisco. Did she understand what she was volunteering for? The Presbyterian Mission was no ladies’ academy. She’d be teaching prostitutes and maltreated waifs. He shook his head. Likely as not, Miss King would be the one receiving an education.
The women concluded their discussion and walked toward the children. Miss Cameron collected them and departed with hearty farewells to Charles and Miss King.
Charles took a deep breath, the day’s obligations weighing on his shoulders like the heavy hay bales he used to heft into his father’s barn years ago. A night’s sleep before returning to the city would be welcome, indeed. The firm’s secretary had made reservations for him at the Heritage Hotel. The sumptuous accommodations would be a nice change.
He glanced at Miss King as she fastened a wool cloak over her slight shoulders. His client shouldn’t return home unescorted, especially with those blue eyes shining like an overly excited child. His heart jumped at the sight of her flushed cheeks. “May I see you home?” He offered the crook of his arm with a flourish, praying the gesture displayed the admirable presentation his uncle desired of him.
She pulled the garment close, as if to shield herself from his attention. “My friend has a cab waiting outsi
de.”
Charles dropped his elbow, unsettled by the disappointment brewing in his gut. He’d just met the woman, why did he already feel a sense of responsibility toward her?
Miss King adjusted a tiny hat atop her sleek blonde hair. He could almost feel the smooth strands under his fingers. He shook away the thought, burying his hand in his coat pocket.
As he walked her to the door, Charles considered the future she’d chosen—a path that led her straight to the city he now called home. Would he be seeing more of her? He cleared his throat. “I admire your fervor, Miss King, but I hope you haven’t allowed your feelings to sweep you into a situation you may regret.”
Miss King’s brows drew low over her eyes. “What do you know of regret?”
“More than you can imagine.” The words slipped from his mouth before he could reel them back. His sister never strayed far from his thoughts. Remember why you’re here. “There is no need to rush your decision.”
“Endless equivocation is more your area of expertise, Mr. McKinley. I assure you, I am quite resolute.” Her eyes flashed. “My family’s situation has changed, as you well know. I understand this teaching position will not undo our loss of income, but at least it will prevent me from being a further drain on my mother’s meager resources.”
“I told you, there are ways—”
“More investments?” She sighed. “You expect us to entrust our remaining savings to your untried expertise? After what happened under your uncle’s supervision?”
He bit down a retort. She had every reason not to trust him—the numbers in Uncle Silas’s reports had left unanswered questions in Charles’s mind as well. “I understand.” He reached out and touched her arm, a second wave of protectiveness sweeping over him, perhaps a result of Josephine’s memory. “I live not far from the Mission. If you should need anything—anything at all—please don’t hesitate to contact me.”
The expression in her blue eyes softened. “I appreciate your concern. But I can watch over myself. And if anything happens, my brother and sister will be nearby.” She moved toward the door.
“Of course.” He pressed the derby onto his head and touched the brim, a hollowness opening in his chest. “Sometimes even brothers and sisters aren’t enough to keep the world at bay.”
She cast a steadfast glance across her shoulder. “Then it’s a good thing I can take care of myself.”
***
Elizabeth hurried down the sidewalk, regretting the falsehood she’d told Charles McKinley. Something about the man triggered unwelcome flutters in her chest. Gooseflesh spread down her arms as she considered his strong shoulders and easy smile. She’d not even shaken off the sensation of Tobias’s touch and now a handsome attorney turned her head? What would become of her? Lord, help me.
Let him believe her decision was triggered by her family’s economic situation. She couldn’t bear for him—or anyone else—to know the truth.
She hustled down the sidewalk, determined to be out of sight before the lawyer noticed no cab awaited her. Elizabeth ducked into a shadowed alley, easing between wooden crates and cans of refuse lining the back doors of businesses. The sun had long disappeared from the evening sky. Pulling the cloak tight about her shoulders, Elizabeth walked as fast as her stiff shoes allowed.
A man stepped out of one of the narrow doorways, light spilling out around his bulky form. “Miss? You lost?”
She jerked back a step. “No. I—I’m just taking a shortcut. I turned down the wrong street.” Her throat constricted. Her mother would be furious to discover her here. Only disreputable women skulked around in dark alleys at night. My reputation is all I have left, and even that’s hanging by a shoestring. Her gaze flitted down the path to the street beyond. Elizabeth gestured with a shaking hand. “My father is waiting out there.” Another lie. God must have already given up on her.
The man stepped out of the glare and grinned, displaying a row of crooked teeth. He slapped a hand against the metal can. “You got nothing to worry about from me, Miss. I’m just taking out the trash. You hurry on, though.”
Elizabeth bobbed her head, her hat sliding to one side. “Yes, thank you. If you’ll excuse me . . .” She picked up the edge of her skirt and dashed through to the main street. She slowed her pace, quelling the commotion in her heart as she turned toward home.
The attorney’s words flooded back into her thoughts. “I hope you haven’t allowed your feelings to sweep you into a situation you may regret.” She folded her arms, gripping her elbows as she walked. Her emotions had led her down every single path she’d ever walked. Why change now?
4
Elizabeth fiddled through the stack of silk handkerchiefs. How many would she need? The trunk lid yawned open like a hungry alligator, but she’d yet to add a single garment from the pile strewn across her bed. Last time she’d traveled to San Francisco, she’d packed her nicest things in preparation to attend Robert’s wedding. It didn’t seem likely she’d need frilly evening gowns or lace-covered day dresses for a teaching position. She dropped the handkerchiefs back in the drawer with a sigh, sending up a swirl of fragrance from her lavender sachet. Elizabeth gathered her simplest skirts. All of the instructors at the ladies’ college wore muted browns and grays. Unfortunately, other than her russet walking skirt, everything she owned seemed to be in spring colors.
I might not be suited to teaching. Her mind wandered back to the three girls she’d seen at the oratory. She’d been so busy focusing on Miss Cameron, she hadn’t even thought to speak to them. Within a few days, she’d be standing before an entire classroom of Chinese students. What if they didn’t like her? Elizabeth held up her pink skirt with its matching floral jacket. She could almost picture the girls laughing silently behind their hands.
She sank onto the bed, the thought weighing upon her shoulders. When she’d picked out the pretty rose jacket, she’d imagined herself playing piano on the big stage of the Orpheum Theater. Her dreams had blossomed into thoughts of touring Europe. She’d spend languid afternoons buying hats and gowns in Parisian boutiques and evenings performing at the finest concert halls.
Teaching sewing to Chinese slave girls? It had never crossed her mind until last night. Was it a call from God, or an impulsive plan of escape?
Her concert dreams had been scattered like so many dandelion seeds to the wind. Elizabeth clenched her fists, her nails pressing against the tender skin of her palms. She opened her hand and studied the long fingers—Tobias called them a divine gift. Her stomach roiled. The very idea of touching a piano brought a sour taste to her mouth.
She needed a new dream.
Elizabeth jumped to her feet and folded the pink skirt together with a more serviceable blue one. Likely as not the girls would appreciate a little color in their teacher’s wardrobe. She folded her lace blouse and flowered jacket, adding them to the pile. Striding to the wardrobe, Elizabeth retrieved several shirtwaists and petticoats. It didn’t make sense to agonize over every choice. If her wardrobe offended, she’d simply make something new when she arrived. Her first demonstration piece could be a dowdy schoolmarm dress.
A gentle rapping on the door stilled her hands. An ache settled in the back of Elizabeth’s throat. If only she could avoid this conversation forever. “Come in, Mother.”
The door swung open, but her mother remained frozen on the threshold, eyes dark. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this, Elizabeth. We’ve had our differences before, but you’ve never run off on me.” She clutched a folded quilt to her chest, like a child in search of comfort.
“I’m not running away. The Mission needs teachers. Besides, there’s nothing for me here.”
Mother crossed the room, her quick footsteps silent on the rag rug. “How can you say such nonsense? What will I do without your help at the charity auction? And the library luncheon?”
Elizabeth folded a set of winter stockings. “You don’t need my help. I’m hopeless at such things.”
Mother sat on the e
dge of the mattress and pulled the quilt into her lap. “I wish you’d consulted me before you committed yourself to such a ridiculous venture. I’ve never even heard of this mission. If you wanted to serve a worthy cause, there are plenty right here. Why must all my children hightail it off to San Francisco?”
Elizabeth crouched down to peer into the shadowy recesses of the top drawer. “Ah, there they are.” She drew out a pair of white gloves wedged in the rear corner. “Not all of your children—only three of us.”
“You shouldn’t leave me like this.”
Elizabeth stopped midway between her bureau and the trunk. “Like what?”
“Alone.” Mother’s shoulders rounded.
She hadn’t seen Mother like this since Robert—always her favorite—left for medical school, years ago. She never anticipated such a reaction for her own departure. “It’s not so far. And it’s only for a year.” She swung her arm toward the window. “Ethel and Jane both live within a mile. I’m not leaving you alone.”
“Your sisters have their own lives.”
The muscles in Elizabeth’s back coiled. “So do I.”
“They have husbands, children. No time for their mother.”
The comment stung. “Because I’m not married, my life is not my own?”
“Don’t put words in my mouth, Elizabeth.” Mother pushed to her feet. “I’m concerned. If you were marrying and moving to the city, I wouldn’t worry. But you’re going off to some mission—”
“I need a change. I can’t stay here. Not while . . .” Elizabeth threw the handkerchiefs into the trunk, the delicate squares dropping out of their neat folds and fluttering down. Not while Tobias still occupies every thought.
Mother drew up to her full height. “I forbid it.”
“I’m a grown woman.”
“Then act like it. Don’t run off the moment things grow difficult.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes for a moment, determined to unravel the knot growing in her stomach before she said something she’d regret. “If only you could have heard Miss Cameron’s plea, you would understand.” She laid a hand on her chest. “I felt God’s call, Mother. As clear as I hear your voice right now.”
Through the Shadows Page 3