Through the Shadows

by Barnett, Karen;

  “Detained?” Charles swallowed his bite. She was being far too modest. “Members of a Chinese tong abducted one of the students from under the nose of two prison guards. From what Miss Cameron told me, Elizabeth stormed a rooftop and demanded the girl’s freedom.”

  Eyes widened around the table and forks stilled. Ruby turned to her sister. “Is that true?”

  Elizabeth’s cheeks reddened. “He’s exaggerating. But, yes. I accompanied Miss Cameron on the rescue, and we succeeded in recovering Tien Gum.”

  Robert laid down his fork. “Elizabeth, I don’t like you putting yourself in such danger. What if these men had been armed?”

  She shrugged. “I couldn’t let them take her. Word was they were going to move her to Idaho in an attempt to escape our reach. I shudder to think what sort of life she’d have there.”

  Charles took a bite of the roast, the tender meat practically melting in his mouth. Elizabeth King’s courage impressed him. In one week, she’d gone from socialite to crusader. No wonder she’d reacted poorly when he explained his reasons for not helping the Mission. She could stand up to kidnappers and brothel owners, but he couldn’t contradict his own uncle?

  Elizabeth straightened in her chair, as if warming to her subject. “These girls are subjected to unimaginable horrors at the hands of men. And they never asked for this life. Most were brought to our shores under false pretenses—promised jobs or marriages to successful merchants. They took the risk to help their families back home. Instead, they ended up as slaves to men’s baser desires.” Her gaze flickered between her brother and Charles.

  She counts me in the same camp. Charles’s stomach fell.

  Robert held up a hand. “Perhaps this is a discussion better held until we can speak in private.”

  Her nostrils flared. “Don’t dismiss me like a child. You say you want me safe, and yet you care nothing for the safety of those girls.”

  The doctor scowled. “They are not my sisters.”

  Mrs. King touched her husband’s arm. “And their brothers are not here to protect them.” She glanced up at Elizabeth. “We are proud of you, and you know the Mission is dear to my heart. But please, do be careful. We love you.”

  Elizabeth fell silent, her gaze settling on her plate.

  Charles studied Elizabeth, as if seeing her for the first time. The young woman had grit, as his father would say. Determination, compassion, and beauty all in one package. He never thought such a thing possible.

  Unfortunately, she despised him.

  ***

  Elizabeth lifted a stack of dishes from the table, the hum of conversations blurring into a peaceful lull around her. Gerald’s mother had succeeded in redirecting the conversation by offering pie, and it seemed everyone around the table breathed a sigh of relief. Everyone but Elizabeth.

  How dare Charles McKinley horn in on her evening with her family? Why wasn’t he off at some dinner party with his uncle and a room filled with sparkling politicians and their well-mannered wives? He’d made it clear he’d have nothing more to do with the Mission Home. Her father’s estate was clearly bankrupt. What reason did he have to stay?

  She glanced down the table to where he sat conversing with Gerald over a cup of coffee. A smile danced around the young man’s face, as if he felt more at home here than she did. She paused, her gaze sliding along his strong jaw and muscled arms. She pulled the stacked china close and headed for the kitchen. It took more than a handsome face to turn her head. She’d already endured the consequences of such folly.

  Ruby met her at the drain board. “I’ll take those. I think Robert is getting ready to invite Mr. McKinley into the parlor to discuss Father’s accounts. Do you want to join them? Or should I drive you home to the Mission?”

  Home . . . Mission. For a few brief moments, she’d forgotten what awaited her at the end of the day. She needed to prepare for tomorrow’s class. She hadn’t even stopped to wonder how Tien Gum fared after her harrowing experience.

  “What’s the matter?” Ruby’s lips turned down. “You look as though you’ve lost your best friend.”

  “No, nothing like that.” Elizabeth put her arm around her sister’s waist and laid her head on her shoulder. “I’ve just enjoyed spending time with you and Abby today. Part of me doesn’t want to leave.”

  Ruby squeezed her close. “You didn’t seem to be enjoying yourself at dinner. I hate to see you quarrel with Robert.”

  “I know.” Elizabeth bit her lip. “I shouldn’t let him irk me so. He still treats me as though I’m the little girl he left at home when he moved away.”

  “He’s concerned. We all are.” Ruby’s pale blue eyes shimmered. “But I understand how much this means to you.” She set the plates in the soapy water. “And whether or not you approve, I think Mr. McKinley—Charles—is quite taken with you.”

  “What? No, you’re mistaken.” Elizabeth’s throat grew tight. “I think . . .” she glanced back at the door to make sure the man wasn’t lurking nearby. “I think he feels responsible for me. Father’s estate was his first assignment.” The words sounded hollow. Why was Charles constantly turning up? A shiver ran down her back. He couldn’t be smitten with her. She’d been rude at their first meeting, and cold to him, really, since then. And then today . . . her stomach dropped. Once again, her temper had ruled the day.

  No matter. She’d already failed one relationship. The last thing she needed was another. And if Charles was concerned for his reputation—as he’d suggested today—she’d clearly be the wrong choice.

  Robert poked his head into the kitchen. “Do either of you wish to join us?”

  Ruby shook her head. “You can fill me in later. I want to tackle these dishes before Mae gets ahold of them. She’s done so much today, she must be exhausted.”

  Elizabeth let go of her sister’s waist. “Should I stay and help?”

  “No, you go on ahead. When you’re done, one of us will drive you home.”

  Elizabeth followed Robert through the dining room, running quick hands over her skirt to brush away any stray crumbs. Spotting Charles at the door to the parlor sent a flush to her cheeks. Ruby shouldn’t have said anything—now she’d never get the idea out of her head. She squinted her eyes and tried to picture him on the back of a horse, as he’d described in the garden. She couldn’t quite manage it, though he did have the broad shoulders of one who bucked hay for a living.

  When his gaze met hers, she lifted her chin and turned away. The last thing she needed was for him to think she might be interested.

  As they settled into the room, she folded her hands in her lap. She would remain calm, quiet, and demure—even if it killed her.

  Charles opened the case and drew out several file folders. “I have a complete accounting of your father’s investments, dating back to ten years before his death. It seems he entrusted my uncle with the task of investing his savings, which included the bulk of your grandfather’s estate.”

  It doesn’t sound as if he should have trusted Silas McKinley with anything. Elizabeth nearly choked, keeping the words inside.

  Her brother sat forward in his chair. “May I see them?”

  “Of course.” Charles moved to a seat closer to Robert and spread the papers across a low table. “These are the most pertinent records here. This document details the investments still current at the time of the earthquake.”

  Robert lifted the paper. “It looks like he invested in several buildings in the downtown area. Did any of these structures survive the quake?”

  “They were all damaged in the quake, but completely destroyed by the fires.”

  Elizabeth sank back against her seat. “All of them?” So much for staying silent.

  Charles glanced up, lines forming around his brown eyes. “Yes.”

  Robert folded both hands and rested his chin against his knuckles. “Insured, as your uncle claimed?”

  The attorney paused, a twitch obvious above his jaw. “Yes, but since the structural damage was done
during the earthquake, fire insurance doesn’t apply.”

  The breath leaked from Elizabeth’s chest. Mother would be ruined. “You said your uncle was a partner in these investments.”

  “And he suffered losses as well.”

  Robert flipped through the stack of papers. “I’d heard some of these insurance decisions were being challenged in court. Have you confronted the insurance companies about covering these losses? Certainly they’re duty-bound to cover some of the investments. I walked the city during those three days of fires. The buildings may have been damaged by the initial shock, but it was the flames that gutted the structures—that and the army using dynamite to clear firebreaks.”

  “Many of the companies are paying 100 percent of the claims, regardless of the situation. I’m afraid yours isn’t one of them.” Charles ran a hand across the back of his neck. “Some denials are being contested. A few have been overturned.”

  “But not ours.” Elizabeth swallowed down the burning sensation growing in her chest.

  The attorney opened his mouth, as if to say something, but closed it again. He shook his head “It’s mostly larger accounts—the banks, the railroad, the newspapers.”

  The words settled in the pit of Elizabeth’s stomach.

  Robert rubbed the bridge of his nose, falling silent.

  Elizabeth scooted forward in her seat. “Why can’t we take our case to court? You’d represent us, wouldn’t you?”

  The shadows deepened around the attorney’s eyes. “I wouldn’t recommend it. The court fees alone would eat up any gains you might see.”

  His words doused any flicker of hope she’d mustered. She lowered her eyes, the smothering truth dropping over her like a blanket. No matter what Ruby said, men like the McKinleys weren’t concerned with people like them. Hadn’t he already said as much?

  14

  Charles sat in the rear of the gallery, scribbling his observations on a notepad. After two weeks of busy work, Spencer had finally allowed him to observe. Not from the defense table, but definitely an improvement.

  The senior attorney strutted past the jury box, gesturing as he spoke. “The photographic evidence clearly shows the building in question was damaged by the earthquake.” Spencer laid both hands on the rail and leaned toward the jurors, his extreme height bringing him to perfect eye level with the front row of men. “I’m sure many of you—like myself, and most of the good folk here in this courtroom—walked the streets of San Francisco on that horrific day. We saw our beloved city hall in shambles. We saw neighbors’ homes pulled apart like dollhouses. We saw whole buildings toppled by the shaking. Do you remember how you felt that morning? Were you thrown from your beds? Did you fear for your loved ones?” He lowered his head, voice shaking. “I know I did.”

  “You may have strolled past the Wright Building on that first morning before the fires ever began—a building rocked off its foundation by the same shock that sent us running into the streets.” He swiveled on his heel and spread his arms wide. “What happens to a building thrown from its moorings? Can it ever be righted? Or is it like Humpty Dumpty from our children’s nursery rhymes?”

  Smiles and faint laughter trickled through the jury box and the audience in the gallery.

  He cleared his throat. “Mr. Morrison wants the Williamsburgh City Fire Insurance Company to be ‘all the king’s horses and all the king’s men.’ But you folks remember how that ended.”

  Spencer pointed to the large map of the fire zone, standing prominently in the center of the courtroom. “The fires didn’t even reach the building until the third day of the conflagration. The building was a complete loss days earlier. In fact, I’d argue that the fires did the plaintiff a favor. Cleaned the slate, if you will.” He faced the jurors once more, his dark brow lowering over his eyes like an executioner’s hood. “Many people lost lives and property in the days that followed. They are the ones who deserve compensation. I put forth that Mr. Morrison is trying to seduce the Williamsburgh Company into providing capital for his next construction project. I ask you, good men of the jury—as we demonstrated earlier, haven’t the adjustors already shown the utmost compassion? They cannot be expected to cover every whim and whiffle of his imagined slights.”

  The plaintiff—a sallow-faced man in a gray suit—bristled under Spencer’s smooth-voiced accusations. He turned and whispered into his own attorney’s ear, but the counselor waved off his attention.

  A sour taste rose in Charles’s mouth. The firm seemed to be fighting on both sides of this battle—wherever the money lay.

  Spencer continued his posturing and orating for thirty minutes, the jury leaning forward and consuming his words like a flock of baby birds waiting for tender morsels. By the end of the day, the jury found for the insurance company, and the building’s owner left penniless.

  The man shambled past, face sagging, and Charles’s spirits sank. Corruption is the lifeblood of this city. How long can I skirt around the edges of the firm’s business before I’m forced to try one of these cases? He strode up the aisle to meet Spencer. Had the man grown an inch during the deliberation?

  Spencer passed him a box filled with files and briefs. “Time to put this case to bed, McKinley. Can you handle the task, or does your uncle need to walk you through it?”

  Charles’s fingers clenched on the edge of the box. “You must be proud.”

  The man jutted his chin. “We can’t stand by while shysters like him shake down legitimate businesses. That money belongs to those who can rebuild this city and make it something great.”

  “And here I thought it was about justice.” Charles shoved the box under his arm.

  Spencer snorted. “There’s a fine line between justice and business. You need to decide which side of the line you’re going to settle on.” He smoothed his lapels before striding out of the courtroom.

  A long exhale escaped Charles’s lips. He’d ridden to court in Spencer’s auto, but he’d rather return via streetcar. At least he’d be riding with people worthy of his respect.

  ***

  “You’re dismissed.” Elizabeth smiled as the words left her lips, her spirits lifting with the girl’s happy voices.

  The children chattered and giggled as they gathered their things and left the classroom, a few stopping to ask questions or express their thanks.

  As the room fell silent, Elizabeth drew a deep breath, another class complete. Each one seemed a little easier, as she grew accustomed to her students’ odd ways—or them to hers, perhaps. She gathered a few scraps left lying about the room, tucking them into the ever-expanding rag bag. Perhaps she should teach them to quilt, while she was at it.

  She glanced out the window at the street below. Sometimes the Mission seemed like a fortress, wholly separate from the buzzing activity outside. What is Charles doing right now? Her traitorous thoughts focused on the young attorney more often than she’d like, ever since the conversation in Ruby’s garden. How unusual to find a young man who didn’t mind her outspoken ways. Learning he wouldn’t be volunteering with the Mission had pierced her with unexpected disappointment.

  Content the classroom was in order, Elizabeth switched off the light and closed the door. She headed to the kitchen. Mrs. Lee, the cook, had bought several bushels of apples and said Elizabeth could help herself. It would be the perfect snack to tide her over until dinner. An apple for the teacher.

  Even with teaching occupying much of her time, restlessness stalked her. For years, she’d arranged her life around the piano, every free moment in preparation for her next lesson with Tobias. She pushed his image from her mind. Would she ever be able to think about music without resurrecting unwanted feelings? It seemed safer to dream about handsome cowboy attorneys—even if they were off-limits.

  Mrs. Lee bustled around the kitchen, directing three girls through the evening meal preparations. Tien Gum gathered the plates for supper. She offered Elizabeth a quick smile as she balanced the stack against her hip.

  A rush of
warmth raced through Elizabeth’s chest. How close we came to losing her.

  She scooped up one of the apples from the barrel, the lilting sound of music giving her pause. Interspersed with the various noises of meal preparation, faint notes carried through the room, sending a vibration through Elizabeth’s soul. Piano.

  She peeked inside the dining hall, her gaze settling on the back of an ancient upright piano in the corner, the player hidden on the far side. The gentle melody continued, hesitating for a moment as if the player searched for inspiration, but then growing in confidence. The haunting tune pulled Elizabeth forward, the familiar notes of “Amazing Grace” spiraling through the room. She crept around the edges of the far table, holding to the shadows until she could see the form sitting at the stool.

  Little Yoke Soo bent over the keys, her slight form swaying with the music.

  Elizabeth pressed her back against the wall. She’s so young.

  Yoke Soo’s tiny hands curved above the keyboard. A smile toyed at the corners of her lips, as if the hymn—or the simple act of playing it—brought joy.

  Elizabeth reached for a chair. It wasn’t often one encountered such talent, and even more rare to find it in one so small. How many times had Father told her as much? She tugged the chair away from the table, its legs squeaking against the floorboards.

  The music halted abruptly. Yoke Soo jerked her head upward, her braids swinging with the motion. She jumped from the stool and moved toward the door.

  “No, wait.” Elizabeth stepped forward. “Yoke Soo, it’s me.”

  The child stopped, her eyes wide. “Miss, I’m sorry. I know I’m not supposed to be playing.”

  “Why not?” Elizabeth walked to the girl’s side. “It was lovely.”

  “I should be spreading the tablecloths. I thought I’d just play one song.”

  “You got lost in the music.” Elizabeth’s fingertips tingled. How often had she experienced the same, only to discover hours had passed? “You’re very talented.”