“’Course I remember Sarah.”
“They’re married and living in Washington.”
Lizzie’s eyes grew big.
Emily enjoyed her friend’s shock a moment longer before relating the entire story. By the end, Lizzie’s face had grown fierce and defiant. “I can’t believe dat no-account Mr. Black shot you!”
“Don’t be so surprised. You, of all people, have seen his true nature.”
Lizzie looked outside, toward the sound of Lark’s enthusiastic squeals. “He an evil, wicked man. You right not to leave Sarah dere.” Tearing her thoughts from her own past, she shook her head in amazement. “I still can’t believe you here.”
“I didn’t know I was coming until just a few weeks ago. I’m afraid my story hasn’t turned out quite as happily as Jeremiah’s.”
“Oh no. Tell me Mr. Jovie ain’t—” Lizzie’s eyes reflected horror.
“No, he’s very much alive. He just…has no interest in furthering our friendship.” She braced herself against a fresh onslaught of grief. Time hadn’t yet lessened its strength. She was starting to wonder if it ever would.
“Oh, Emily.” Lizzie reached across the table to grasp her hand.
“It’s hard, Lizzie.” Her face muscles twitched, but she vowed she wouldn’t sob every time she spoke of it. “I used to think I wouldn’t want all this.” She gestured around the snug little house. “I thought my art would be enough. But it isn’t. Without Jovie, my certification is just a piece of paper.”
Lizzie’s face was a reflection of Emily’s own agony.
“The night of graduation, I kept watching the door, certain he’d show up. He was the one who always insisted I continue my education—he brought me to Baltimore to begin with. I kept hoping, waiting, but he didn’t come. I guess that’s when I knew he never would.”
Lizzie came around the table and embraced Emily, rocking her like she was one of her children. “Poor, poor chil’,” she crooned.
“I’ll be all right, Lizzie.”
“I know, miss. You strong. You ain’t de same girl you was at de beginning of de war.”
How innocent that former Emily now seemed. Her fears had been mere shadows of things she’d never experienced and could not hope to understand, yet the dread of them had nearly paralyzed her. As one by one those terrors all became realities, she’d grown older, wiser, more adept at handling adversity. She’d found strength and fortitude she never knew she had. At the moment, however, strength offered little comfort. Some morning she might awaken with the desire to spring out of bed and embrace life, but right now the only future she could see lay before her like a photographic image—flat, lifeless, and devoid of all color.
***
Days and weeks in the hotel followed a pattern Emily remembered well. She found it easy to keep herself occupied. The maid who had replaced Shannon was an older Russian woman who pushed syllables from her mouth with a thick, heavy tongue. Emily helped her whenever she could. She also assisted Julia with meal preparations and covered the front desk whenever Isaac was away. And each afternoon she reserved an hour to play with her two young roommates. During her free time she began job hunting, landing interviews at two studios and losing out both times to men. She stayed so busy that Christmas caught her by surprise.
As the holiday landed on a Sunday, the family chose to exchange gifts on Christmas Eve. Isaac had brought home a pretty little evergreen from his woodlot the day before, and the entire household decorated it with strings of popcorn, buttons, and bits of ribbon. Now the children were wild with excitement, racing about the lobby in anticipation.
Julia carried a tray of treats in from the kitchen and set it on the coffee table. Putting her hands on her hips, she surveyed the room. “Lawd, don’ you all look festive. Like a page right out of a book.”
The girls came to sit daintily on the sofa, one on either side of Emily, smoothing out their Sunday school dresses like perfect little ladies. Julia winked at Isaac and began handing out cups of mulled cider. “I do believe Christmas be my favorite time of year, with everybody together and happy.”
Malachi had joined them for the occasion, though Lizzie and Ketch were absent, owing to the recent arrival of a brand-new baby girl. He picked up Kaity and set her on his lap. “Are you ready to open presents?”
“Presents!” Aidan screamed from where he still played beside the tree, prompting laughter all around. Isaac retrieved him and swung him into his arms upside down. “Presents come later, you little rascal. First we’re going to read the Christmas story.”
One of the hotel guests—the only one who wasn’t somewhere in the city attending festivities of his own—stood up from the chair on the opposite side of the fireplace. A middle-aged gentleman with round spectacles and a mild limp, he smiled at them apologetically. “I’ll just go upstairs and leave you to your celebration.”
“Oh no, Mr. Guiper,” Shannon protested. “You’re more than welcome to stay.”
“No, no. I won’t impose.” And he began a slow limp toward the stairs.
Isaac tucked Aidan under one arm and grasped the man’s elbow, gently guiding him back to his seat. “Please, join us. It’s Christmas, after all.”
Julia handed him a mug of cider.
Looking a bit bewildered, Mr. Guiper took the cup then eased back into his chair. “Very well, then. Thank you.”
Isaac handed Aidan off to Malachi. Grabbing his Bible from the mantel, he began reading from the book of Matthew. It wasn’t the traditional passage about the angels and the shepherds, but the story of the Magi, Herod’s killing of Bethlehem’s children, and Joseph and Mary’s flight to Egypt. Somehow, with the war still leaching so much of the nation’s blood, it seemed fitting to acknowledge the violence that surrounded even the birth of the Christ child.
As he read, Emily couldn’t stop her thoughts from wandering home to Ella Wood. Were her parents celebrating alone this year? Had the Malones been able to join them? Was Abigail with them? Had Darius secured leave or, more likely, was little Elsie celebrating her first Christmas without her daddy? As Isaac closed the Bible, Emily was doubly thankful for the family surrounding her this year.
Isaac looked around at each one of them, a smirk on his face. “Does anyone here know someone we can give all these presents to? Look at this, we have a tree full of them!”
“Give them to us!” the girls screamed in unison, giant smiles lighting their faces.
“Us!” Aidan mimicked, climbing down from Malachi’s lap and racing to the tree.
Isaac laughed and rescued the presents before Aidan tore them all open. Emily had never celebrated Christmas with small children, and watching their delight over every gift increased her own enjoyment. They opened scarves and mittens from Julia, tin animals from Malachi, and two porcelain dolls and a wooden rocking horse from Shannon and Isaac. Emily had made each child a small pillow filled with rice that could be heated on the stove at bedtime to warm tiny toes.
“Would anyone like more cider?” Julia asked. “Or coffee and tea? If someone will help me fetch ’em, I got a tray full of cookies, as well.”
Emily rose. “I’ll help, Julia.”
At that moment, Aidan’s foot warmer went sailing past her head and knocked a glass angel from the mantel shelf. Emily’s quick reflexes saved the knickknack, but her foot slipped on a torn scrap of wrapping paper. Down she went, her ankle twisting sharply beneath her, and landed in a heap on the floor. Wincing against the pain, she tried unsuccessfully to sort out legs, hoops, and fabric.
Isaac lifted her into a chair where Malachi inspected the swollen ankle. “It’s not broken,” he announced after some rotating and prodding. “Only sprained, but it’ll be tender for a few weeks. I’ll fetch snow for a compress to try to get that swelling down.”
“Emily, I’m so sorry.” Shannon set the angel back in place and gave Aidan a stern look. “Do you see what your misbehavior caused, young man? What do you tell Emily?”
The toddler had watched
Malachi’s ministrations with wide eyes. Now he approached Emily, properly sobered. “I sorry, Cousin Em’ly.”
Emily scooped the boy onto her lap. “Don’t you worry about it, Little Man. I’ll be perfectly fine in a few days.”
He hugged her around the neck and planted a very wet kiss on her cheek.
“Come on,” Shannon said, holding out a hand to the tyke and herding all three children into the kitchen. “I believe we’ll take our cookies at the table. Then it’s bedtime for three little elves.”
Isaac collapsed onto the couch holding the sleeping baby his wife had thrust into his arms. Letting out a breath, he stroked Alma’s cheek. “I don’t know if I’m ready for this one to start walking.”
Malachi propped Emily’s stockinged foot on the coffee table and wrapped a length of snow-stuffed cloth around it. “I feel so foolish,” she complained, catching Mr. Guiper’s look of unveiled amusement.
He chuckled. “Don’t be embarrassed, miss. You saved the angel.”
“You’ll have to stay off it as much as you can,” Malachi instructed. “Tomorrow I’ll bring you a cane.”
“A cane? Truly?” She moaned at the absurdity of it all.
When Shannon returned after tucking in the little ones, it was the adults’ turn to exchange small gifts. Shannon passed out pretty hand soaps. Isaac presented several pairs of hand-carved bookends. And Julia had made enough mittens and scarves that Mr. Guiper received some, too. Then Malachi fetched a large box from Isaac’s office and placed it on Emily’s lap. “We all pitched in.”
The box was heavy. Emily tore off the paper to find a wooden crate that had already been loosened. She lifted off the top. Inside was nestled an Ottewill camera, obviously used, but in excellent condition. She gaped at the gift, utterly speechless.
“It’s from all four of us,” Isaac explained. “We’re tremendously proud of you. I only wish we could have attended your graduation ceremony.”
She caressed the smooth wood finish with one finger. “I don’t even know what to say!”
“Take it out of the box so we can see it,” Shannon suggested.
She lifted it carefully, admiring the sleek lines and the shiny brass fittings. The camera was a beauty, constructed primarily for field work with a sliding box-in-box focus and a collapsible design. She could hardly wait to set it up and use it. “Thank you so much!” She beamed. “I’d hug each one of you if I could walk.”
“You stay off that foot,” Malachi admonished. “But once it heals, I’m eager to see what you can do with that contraption.”
Emily fiddled with the camera for the rest of the evening, setting it up, taking it apart, figuring out every feature. Mr. Guiper excused himself soon after the gift exchange. Malachi lingered another hour before taking himself home. His departure and a stream of returning guests brought the evening to a close.
“Best not leave that out here,” Isaac said, gesturing to the camera. “I’ll lock it in my office until we can instruct the children not to touch it. Would you like some help getting to your room?”
“I can manage.” She began hopping across the lobby on one foot, but after three bounds, her ankle pounded its objection. “On second thought, yes, I would.”
Instead of offering support, he simply scooped her up and deposited her on her bed.
Shannon came in after he left and helped her prepare for bed. Then she tucked Emily under the covers and pulled them tight beneath her chin. “Would you like a dose of laudanum?”
Emily rocked her head back and forth on the pillow. She just wanted to close her eyes and let sleep carry her beyond the discomfort. “I’ll be fine.”
“All right, then. Sleep tight.”
Shannon went around to both little girls, arranged their blankets snugly around them, kissed each forehead, and closed the door softly behind her.
Emily nestled into the mattress with a sigh, listening to her cousins’ light breathing. It had been a soul-satisfying evening that gave her enough ammunition to stave off the dark thoughts that often visited in the most vulnerable hours of the night. If she could only drift off quickly…
It wasn’t to be. The ache in her ankle kept prodding her into wakefulness long after she’d worn through every happy holiday moment. She heard the lobby clock chime midnight, then one o’clock, then two…
She envied the pure, innocent sleep of the children. Stuffing a pillow over her head, she flopped onto her side and gritted her teeth against the midnight assault. “I should have accepted the laudanum,” she muttered against the sheet’s cold indifference. Sighing, she settled in to wait for daylight. “Merry Christmas to me.”
***
The next morning, Emily watched the usual Sunday scurry from the comfort of the lobby couch. Julia brought her a breakfast tray, and when the guests began arriving downstairs for their own meal, she had to repeat the story of her accident half a dozen times. Her cheeks blazed anew at her own clumsiness. She should have just asked Isaac to help her to the table where her injury would have been less conspicuous.
Shannon came to smooth the hair from her forehead. “You look exhausted. Why don’t you let me fetch you a few books, and you can stay right here and get some rest while we’re at the Christmas service.”
Emily didn’t require much persuasion. And this time she gladly accepted a teaspoon of medicine stirred into a glass of water. By the time the merry crowd of churchgoers had cleared out and peace descended over the hotel, she was feeling delightfully groggy and pain-free.
Just as she faded into beautiful, soft nothingness, Mr. Guiper crossed the lobby and sank into the same seat he had occupied the night before. “Good morning, Miss Preston. I trust your ankle is improving?”
She had some difficulty fixing on his face. “It feels better now.”
He smiled. “A wonderful drug, opium.”
Emily squinted at him, trying not to slur her words. “Why aren’t you at church?”
“Oh, I thought I’d stay here and look after you.” He leaned back and crossed his legs, eyeing her intently. “Actually, someone paid me a lot of money to locate you. I confess, it was far easier than I thought. You took no pains to protect yourself.”
“Protect myself?” Her brow wrinkled. “From whom?”
“One of your old friends. I won’t confuse you with details in your present state. I’ll simply bring you to him. He’s quite interested in…speaking with you.”
Emily’s eyes rolled as she fought to keep herself awake. “He’s in Detroit?”
“No, I’m afraid we have a bit of a journey ahead of us. But don’t worry. You may sleep the entire way.”
“All right.” Her entire body urged her to stop fighting against it. “But I won’t go with you until—until I know who it is.”
“Can you make no guesses?”
She shook her head.
He considered her with a gentle smile. “Well then. You know him as Thaddeus.”
27
“Thaddeus.” The name rolled off her brain like a nut off a porch roof. It had a nice sound to it. An even, rumbling cadence. She said it again, slower. “Thad-de-us.”
“He was quite excited when he found out you are alive.”
“He thought I was dead?” she asked, blinking up at him.
“Indeed. You bought yourself several months with that one.” He chuckled warmly. “It was quite clever, actually. But alas, someone got careless.”
She strained to remember what he was speaking of, but her mind felt so cumbersome.
He stood then, walking toward her with strong, even strides. “Come on. It’s time for us to go.”
“But I don’t know anyone named Thaddeus.”
“Oh, you’ll remember him soon enough.” He gathered her up, flipping her easily over one shoulder.
Emily giggled. The room looked silly from this perspective. In fact, the entire episode had turned so absurd, she knew she must be hallucinating. Such dreams were often brought on by the administration of laudanum. Ha
dn’t she seen it often enough in the military hospitals?
She relaxed, letting herself float along with her imagination.
She weaved among the dining room tables, bobbing gently with every step. And then the tables were lily pads. She was in the rowboat on the pond in the back pasture. Jack was rowing them to their favorite fishing hole. She sighed deeply, trailing a finger lazily in the water.
Somewhere far away she heard a shout. She turned to look. It was Jovie, calling from the far bank. Jack rowed them closer. Jovie jumped just as they reached him, swamping the boat and dumping them in the water.
She gasped for air. The water was cold. So cold.
And then the pain in her foot shot her back to consciousness.
She lifted her head, disoriented. She was in the hotel’s backyard, coatless, sprawled in a snowbank with her foot twisted painfully beneath her. Five yards away, the dining room’s French doors stood wide open. All ability to reason had turned into fluffy gray wool. Groaning, she dragged herself inside, closed the doors against the bitter cold, and slumped to the floor.
***
She awoke on the lobby sofa to find Malachi and Isaac sitting on either side of the fireplace and watching her with poorly veiled concern. Malachi clapped a stethoscope to her chest the moment she awakened, listening first to her heart and then to her lungs. Then he pulled her eyelids back and checked the membranes in her mouth. “How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Fine. My ankle hurts.”
“That’s to be expected. You took quite a spill.”
“I did?” She glanced toward her uncle. “When?”
“You don’t remember?”
She frowned, trying to push into cloudy memories. “Mr. Guiper was here.”
Isaac’s eyes glinted dangerously. “Mr. Guiper is now enjoying the hospitality of the county jail.”
“What happened?”
Malachi explained how he had let himself into the hotel to drop off the promised cane only to find Mr. Guiper carrying her out the back door. “He bolted when I shouted, but I went out the front and caught him in the drive. After securing him in the stable, I sent the first passerby for the police and went to check on you.”
Ebb Tide (Ella Wood Book 3) Page 29