Unending Devotion

by Jody Hedlund

  “Just to rescue Frankie,” she said. “Then you could bring her here and never go back.”

  Maybe he could use the money Dad had given him to buy Frankie’s rescue. “I’ll do my best to get Frankie out. But I can’t stay here.”

  “You could if you found some other way to earn a living.”

  His gaze snapped up to hers. “I can’t do that, Lily.”

  “Why not?” She kneeled on the edge of the love seat. “You’re a talented man. You could do anything you wanted.”

  “I already told you that lumbering is all I’ve ever known.”

  “But after everything that’s happened lately, I thought you were beginning to see the problems and you’d be ready to leave them behind.”

  He scrambled to make sense of what she was saying. “Yes, I can admit there are some aspects to the business that aren’t the best—”

  “Aren’t the best?” Her voice rose an octave. “How can you see anything good, especially after all that’s happened with Daisy and Frankie?”

  “Now, that’s unfair, Lily.”

  “You know as well as I do that lumbering lays waste to the land and feeds an appetite for lust and greed among the men for money, whiskey, and women.”

  “Aren’t you being judgmental? It’s an industry like any other—like salt works that line the river or the commercial fishing out in the bay.”

  “I’ve witnessed for myself just how depraved the lumber industry is. And you can’t convince me otherwise.”

  He stifled a groan of frustration. “Look, I don’t want to get into another argument with you over this today. McCormick Lumber is in my blood. It’s what I do. It’s who I am. I can’t just walk away from it.”

  “You can’t? Or won’t?” Her voice turned low.

  Uneasiness lodged in his gut. “If I walked away from it, I’d have to turn my back on my family—and my dad. I can’t do that.”

  “And you know after all that’s happened that I can’t go back to the debauchery, especially not with Daisy.” Her eyes flashed with determination.

  His stomach rolled. He wanted to defend himself, to remind her of all that he’d already done to stand up to Carr, the risks he’d taken to help in Daisy’s rescue. But he clamped his jaw. He had the feeling all the defense in the world wouldn’t satisfy her. She’d only want more sacrifices from him than he could give.

  Her jaw was set with a firmness that indicated the strength of her passion in the issue. Her passion was one of the things he loved about her. How could he ask her to change who she was for him? And what right did she have to expect him to give up everything that was important to him?

  “Maybe we’re just too different,” she finally said. “Maybe we’re destined to live two separate lives.”

  He nodded. He didn’t want to agree with her, but he couldn’t add up the situation any other way. He couldn’t stay in Bay City, and she couldn’t live with him among the lumber camps.

  “It’s probably best for us to just go our own ways.”

  Her words sliced his heart.

  For a long moment, she gazed at him with wide expectation, almost as if she wanted him to contradict her.

  But how could he disagree? They were as different as summer and winter.

  He didn’t say anything.

  A shadow fell across her features, and he turned away from her before he could read the disappointment in her eyes.

  “Good-bye, Connell.” The finality in her voice pierced his heart again.

  “Good-bye,” he whispered through a tight throat.

  And when the swish of her satiny skirt moved away from him out of the room, he ached to run after her and fight for her, fight for them and what they could have had together.

  But he lowered his head and let her walk out of his life.

  Chapter

  22

  The ache in Lily’s heart pressed against her lungs and made breathing difficult. She had no desire to speak past the constriction in her throat.

  Thankfully, Daisy was in one of her talkative moods and hadn’t noticed how quiet she’d been all morning.

  Lily stretched out next to Daisy on the bed and stroked a silver-handled brush through the girl’s hair. The curls turned into waves under her deft hand, just the way they always had when Daisy was younger.

  Lily’s toes grazed the large flat stone at the end of the bed. Even with the heating stone and the thick quilt for warmth, she couldn’t keep from shivering.

  Or from thinking about Connell.

  “I’ve never seen lovelier gowns than those Maggie purchased for all the girls,” Daisy said, lying on her side and staring at the flames in the marble fireplace. “The dresses were always gorgeous colors.”

  Lily slid a hand over the satiny fabric of the garnet gown Mrs. McCormick had so generously presented to her earlier in the morning. Connell’s eyes had lit up when he’d seen her in it, just the way she’d hoped.

  “And Maggie sure knew how to fix our hair.” Daisy’s voice was wistful.

  “Sounds almost like you’re fond of Carr’s wife,” Lily said, swallowing past the ache and trying to push aside all the pain raging through her heart.

  Connell had told her he didn’t want to live without her, but when faced with the choice to return to his work in Harrison or stay with her, he’d chosen his work, the family business, the success of McCormick Lumber.

  She’d hoped he’d changed, that he would want to keep on doing the right thing—fighting against injustice and evil. But instead, he’d fled back to Hell’s Waiting Room, ready to get back to business as usual.

  Besides, even if he had a mind to fight against the problems, how could they possibly make a relationship work if they lived in two different places? She couldn’t move back to Harrison—or to any of the lumber towns—not with Daisy, not now after all that had happened with her.

  “Maggie was always nice to me.” Daisy rolled onto her back and gazed at the ceiling, papered in a print that coordinated with the walls. “She was like a mother to many of us.”

  Lily pushed herself up and sat against the tall headboard, the raised wood carvings pressing into her back. Mrs. McCormick was the kind of mother she’d always dreamed about—the sweet considerate mother their own would have been.

  “Did you know a lot of the girls at the Stockade were orphans, Lily?” Daisy peered at her with wide trusting eyes.

  Lily swept her fingers across her sister’s forehead and then down her cheek, tracing her beauty spot above the edge of her chin. For all the pain she felt over losing Connell, she couldn’t forget to count her blessings. She had Daisy back again. They were together. And they could start over building a new life.

  It didn’t matter that Connell was gone. She didn’t have room for him in her life anyway. Not now that she had Daisy to take care of. They would be busy getting work and looking for a place to live.

  “Most of the girls are really good girls at heart,” Daisy continued.

  “I can’t imagine how hard it must have been for each of you to have to degrade yourself night after night.”

  “It was hard at first.” Daisy’s voice grew faint, and pain flashed through her eyes.

  “I’m sorry.” Lily smoothed the fair cheek of the girl, wishing she could as easily wipe away the painful memories.

  For a long moment, the crackle of the fire was the only sound in the cozy bedroom. The dark mahogany of the bureau and armoire, along with the thick draperies closed against the light of day, deepened the shadows of the room. The dim light from the lamp on the bedstead table reached out to touch the silver decorations around the room and made them glitter—the leaf-patterned edge of the pedestal mirror, the tall candelabras on the mantel, a tiny decorative box.

  The room couldn’t even begin to compare to the cramped, barren bedrooms of the orphanages they’d lived in for so many years, with rows of beds made of sagging, urine-stained mattresses and rusting metal frames.

  She didn’t doubt Mr. McCormick had worke
d hard over the years to accumulate his wealth and the beautiful possessions she’d seen in every room and hallway of the house. But at what cost? The destruction of thousands upon thousands of acres of prime forestland? The callousness to the vile way of living that had accompanied the devastation?

  And now Connell had chosen to follow in the same footsteps as his father. Apparently the success of the business was more important than anything else—including her.

  Pain swirled through her again, as it had since she’d left him in the front parlor hours ago. As the morning had passed, she’d finally given up hope he would barge through the bedroom door and tell her he’d changed his mind.

  He was gone.

  If there had ever been a whisper of anything between them, it was gone now too.

  Daisy gave a long sigh and stared at the ceiling, as if gazing into her past.

  “Why did you do it, Daisy?” The question slipped out before Lily could stop it. She didn’t want to scold the girl. And she didn’t want to make her feel any worse than she already did. But the question had nagged her all winter, and she wouldn’t be at peace until she knew why Daisy had sold herself, body and soul.

  “I told you in the letter I sent you last fall.” Daisy flipped away from her.

  Lily reached for a strand of the girl’s hair, but then hesitated. “I know you wanted to earn money so we could be together again. But why didn’t you come to me first before you ran away?”

  She shrugged.

  “I would have figured out some way for us to be with each other.”

  Daisy was silent.

  “We could have gotten factory jobs or we could have gone back to New York—or something. Anything besides . . . giving your innocence away.”

  The idea of her sweet little sister lying with countless strange, dirty men made her stomach ache. The pounding fist of depression threatened to overwhelm her every time she allowed herself to think about it.

  Daisy’s innocence was gone. And now she could never get it back.

  “Oh, Daisy,” she whispered, wishing she could turn back time and keep her sister from making such an enormous mistake.

  “I didn’t give my innocence away,” Daisy said sullenly, as though sensing the condemnation that Lily was trying so hard not to place upon her.

  “It’s okay.” Lily combed the girl’s hair with her fingers, but Daisy stiffened under her touch and pulled away.

  “Someone took it from me.”

  Lily froze. Her heartbeat slowed like wagon wheels in slush, and her fingers became tangled in Daisy’s hair. “What do you mean?”

  “The nice, normal, wonderful Mr. Wretcham? He wasn’t so nice after all.”

  “What?” Dread crashed through Lily.

  “Apparently orphan girls are good for something, huh?”

  “What happened? What did he do?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to know, but anger pushed her up to her knees, and she grabbed Daisy, forcing her to turn over and face her.

  “From the very first day, he made me uncomfortable with his attention and his too-wide smiles.” Daisy twisted away from her, as if she were ashamed to look at her. “Eventually, he started touching me. Not openly—almost like the bumps and brushes were accidents.”

  Lily wanted to scream at her to stop. She didn’t want to hear anything more. She couldn’t bear to think she’d pushed Daisy to live with the Wretchams. If she hadn’t, none of the heartache would have happened.

  But Daisy continued in a monotone. “Finally one day, when Mrs. Wretcham was gone visiting neighbors, he found me alone in the barn. One of the cats had just had kittens. They barely had their eyes open . . .”

  Lily closed her eyes to block out the scene. But suddenly all she could see was Daisy kneeling in the warm hay with the earthy scent of freshly harvested wheat all around and sunlight streaming in one of the windows. The downy fur of the kittens, their rumbling purrs and soft mews comforting her.

  “He tried to kiss me. And when I wouldn’t cooperate like he wanted, he pulled me into one of the empty stalls, and . . .”

  Revulsion swelled in Lily’s throat, and for a moment she had to fight a wave of bitter nausea. She wanted to weep at the picture of her sweet little Daisy being hurt in that way. How had she let this happen to her? How had she failed to protect her sister so horribly?

  “After the first couple of times, I didn’t fight him anymore,” Daisy said weakly. “But I didn’t want to stay there—”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Lily’s voice caught the edge of a sob. “Why didn’t you come to me? I could have helped you.”

  “What could you have done? Taken me to live with the sick woman and grumpy old man you were staying with? And let him have his way with me too?”

  “Oren wouldn’t have dreamed of defiling you.” If only she’d let Daisy live with Oren and Betty in the first place. “He protected my honor more times than I can count.”

  Daisy shrugged, as if she didn’t believe her—or care. “When I heard about how much money girls were making in the taverns in the lumber camps, I figured I could go for a few months, make my fortune, and then come get you.”

  The pressure of the stifled sobs in Lily’s chest threatened to cut off her breathing. She could only imagine how dirty Daisy must have felt after losing her innocence to Mr. Wretcham, how defiled, how violated. Had she also felt hopeless? Had she decided that since one bad man had used her, she was unworthy of any good man?

  “Oh, Daisy.” Lily squeezed the words past the tightness in her throat. “I wish you would have let me help you.”

  Daisy didn’t say anything. Instead she reached for the oval picture frame on the bedstead table—the miniature portrait of their parents, the only thing either of them owned to connect them to the family they’d once had so briefly.

  Lily had taken it out of her sack earlier and placed it where they could both see it. For all they’d been through, they were still a family. And from now on, they’d never be apart again.

  Daisy ran her finger around the corroded silver edge. The unsmiling faces of their parents stared at them.

  Lily had wanted to show her parents she’d found Daisy, and maybe they’d be happy with her again. But for some reason, their eyes were still as accusing as always.

  With a sigh, Daisy placed the frame gingerly back onto the table, facedown.

  Did she feel their censure too?

  “I want you to know I still love you,” Lily whispered. “You’re still precious to me.”

  Daisy reached for her hand and slipped her fingers into it.

  Lily squeezed. “I’ll make sure no one ever hurts you again.”

  “I’m okay, Lily. Really I am.” The color had come back into the girl’s face, and she hadn’t vomited that morning. She’d even been able to eat a little breakfast from the tray Mrs. McCormick had brought.

  “Maybe you’ll be able to take a bath later,” Lily said, only because Mrs. McCormick had already offered to have the maid draw up hot water for them. “They have a real bathroom with a big tub.”

  Daisy’s eyes lit. “I’ve never had a bath in a real tub.”

  Lily thought back to all the years they’d had to stand in line for baths. Only the first few in line had ever gotten anything but cold, dirty water. “We might not have had much, but we always had each other.”

  “Remember when we’d lie on our bed together at night and play the ‘what if’ game?”

  Lily smiled. All those years in the orphanages, before falling asleep each night, they’d snuggle together in their narrow bed and one of them would start the game by saying “what if . . .” and fill it in with something they longed for.

  “Do you remember when I said, ‘What if we could have our own room, with a big bed, with warm blankets’?”

  A sudden lump lodged in Lily’s throat. She nodded.

  Daisy gazed around the luxurious suite, taking in every elegant item. “What if this were really ours?”

  The lump in Lily’s throat pushed
higher.

  “What if we never had to leave this place?”

  “I promise things will be different from now on.”

  “Will they really?” Daisy’s voice was soft, but the doubt in her tone rang loudly.

  “We’re older now. We’ll be able to find work. And we’ll be able to find a place to live—not as nice as this, but we’ll get our own home.”

  Daisy’s eyes locked with hers, and in the depths Lily could see that her sister wanted to believe her. But the specks of too many past disappointments floated in the murkiness.

  “We’ll go somewhere safe.” Lily tried to infuse more hope into her voice.

  Daisy shuddered. “Preferably somewhere far away from Carr.”

  As soon as they could get Frankie, they’d go. “You know he’s been kidnapping innocent girls and forcing them to work for him?”

  Daisy nodded soberly. “I’ve seen him beat several of the girls until they were nearly unconscious. He’s vicious and cruel. And he never let us keep any of our earnings. Not even the extra cash men leave on the bedside table.” Daisy’s voice turned bitter. “One of the girls hid a few dollars, and a few days later Carr found it and bloodied her up with his brass knuckles.”

  “Someone ought to use those brass knuckles on him and see how he likes it.”

  “He’s untouchable.”

  Lily’s thoughts returned to the flyers she and Stuart had handed out in their effort to start the Red Ribbon Society. Not many of the townspeople had been interested, especially when she’d explained her desire to rise up as one against Carr.

  “I don’t understand why he’s so untouchable,” she muttered. “Seems like everyone could stand up to him if they really wanted to.”

  But Carr wasn’t her concern anymore. Nor was the Harrison Red Ribbon Society. Stuart would have to carry on without her.

  “I can’t tell you how many shanty boys Carr’s killed or had his bouncers kill,” Daisy said. “Nobody really knows, except that men disappear all the time, never to be seen again.”

  A tremor of fear wound through Lily. What would happen to Connell when he got back to Harrison? What if Carr found out about his part in Daisy’s escape?