A Shelter of Hope

by Tracie Peterson

  “If she has to contend with the idea of someone learning her whereabouts, it might well be the reason she says nothing to us about where she’s from.”

  Rachel nodded. “I wondered if maybe her parents are still alive. Or worse yet, if she’s run off from an unreasonable husband.”

  “A husband!” Jeffery exclaimed. “Surely not that. She hardly looks old enough to be employed here, much less be married.”

  “You know as well as I do,” Rachel countered, “that a good many women marry younger than eighteen. Especially out west where women are still at a premium. Besides, we’ve both wondered if she’s even that old. You know it’s true.”

  Jeffery nodded. “I suppose I do know that. Honestly, I’ve wondered about many things since she first came to my office. She was clearly upset from the first question I asked regarding her family and background. I suppose I was just a bit overwhelmed by her. She is a beautiful woman,” he said, reddening at the neck, as if embarrassed to realize what he’d just admitted.

  “Yes, she is,” Rachel replied, ignoring his discomfort. “I don’t know what your thoughts are on the matter, but, Jeffery, I don’t wish to see that child returned to whoever might have done that to her.”

  “Neither do I,” Jeffery answered, seeming to sense an ally in Rachel.

  “Perhaps we should protect Simone by inventing her past for her. Give Mr. Harvey the details he needs, and leave the rest between us,” Rachel replied. She could tell by the expression on Jeffery’s face that he was in complete agreement with her. “I know it’s a lie and it goes against all my Christian beliefs, but honestly, Jeffery, wouldn’t God prefer we protect one of His own? I remember my grandmother speaking of hiding slaves on the underground railroad. They, too, were escaping inhumane treatment, and my grandmother felt that the lies told to protect them were justified in her Christian duty. I may be totally wrong on this, but I can’t help but believe that Simone needs our help.”

  Jeffery didn’t hesitate. “I’ll see to it. Until we have reason to believe otherwise, we’ll think only the best of her and protect her to our utmost ability.”

  Rachel nodded, feeling relieved that he’d not condemned her thinking. She would pray it through later and ask God to show her if she’d strayed in her intentions, but for now Simone needed time to heal. With any luck at all, perhaps no one would need to be told anything about Simone. Perhaps Mr. Harvey would simply trust Jeffery’s judgment and leave it at that. “I’d best get back up there and see what the doctor’s found out.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on things down here, although I’m certain to be no good to anyone,” Jeffery muttered, taking a seat at Rachel’s desk.

  Rachel hurried back upstairs feeling moderate relief at the conspiracy she’d just joined in on. Simone’s secret would be safe with them, of this she was sure. She would do whatever she had to in order to see that the child never again faced another beating. Simone might never tell her the truth of the matter, but Rachel no longer cared. She was entitled to her secrets. She’d already paid the price with the marks on her back.

  Pushing open the door to Simone’s room, Rachel found the doctor just finishing his exam. She frowned at the grave expression on his face. “Is it very bad?”

  “I’m afraid it is. I fear she’s suffered a heat stroke. We can only hope that the fever won’t eat away her brain. You’ll have to bathe her constantly in order to bring down the temperature. Also give her a teaspoon of this every four hours,” he said, handing Rachel a bottle of liquid. “It should help with the fever.” He put his instruments back into the black bag and stood up. “Oh, and try to get some fluids down her. That will help to cool things down on the inside, as well.”

  Simone moaned, and Rachel immediately went to her side. “When will we know something more?” she asked.

  The doctor shrugged. “She could come around right away. Could be a day or two. Just depends on how fast we can get that fever down. She’ll be weak afterward, however, and will need additional rest.”

  “Must you leave?”

  “I’m afraid so. I have others who are just as ill. There really is nothing else to be done. I’ll return in the morning and check on her condition. Should she seem to take a turn for the worse, you can send for me before then, but good luck in finding me. I’ve a feeling I’ll be out most of the night.”

  Rachel nodded. “I’ll see to it that she has constant care.” She turned the bottle of medicine over and over in her hands. “Let me see you out. I need to go downstairs for more ice anyway.”

  The doctor took up his hat and headed for the door, with Rachel following close behind. She couldn’t help but feel great frustration in his noncommittal answers and inability to reassure. It wasn’t his fault, she knew, but it would have been so much more comforting to have had him shrug the entire matter off as being nothing more than Simone being overworked and overheated.

  After he’d gone, Rachel went to her head waitress, Bethel Anderson. “Simone has possibly suffered a heat stroke, and she’s gravely ill. I’ll need you to help me by reassigning her station and splitting the work up between the other girls.”

  “Will she be all right?” Bethel asked.

  “I don’t know. But it will be my job to see to it that her fever abates. Mine and God’s,” Rachel added with a hesitant smile. “Remember her in your prayers, Bethel, for only the Lord can truly see her through.”

  The girl nodded, and Rachel moved toward the kitchen. “I’m putting you in charge, Bethel, but you can always come to me with any problems.”

  Rachel hurried into the kitchen and sought out Henri. His interpreter, Raymond, was now duly employed as a chef’s assistant and seemed to find the work to his liking. Especially given that his handsome, elfish appearance seemed to attract every girl working in the eating establishment. It was difficult to reiterate that Mr. Harvey’s rules included no dating between Harvey employees when the girls were busy making calf eyes at Raymond. When Rachel approached them, both men came to attention.

  “I’m afraid Miss Irving is quite ill. She has a high fever and the doctor believes her to have succumbed to heat stroke.” She paused long enough for Raymond to interpret the message to Henri.

  The testy cook grimaced and grabbed his head. “Non. This is bad,” he managed in heavily accented English. Raymond had been working to teach the older man English, but it came hard to the chef, and he seldom even tried to speak with anyone other than Raymond or Simone.

  “Yes, it is,” Rachel replied. “I’m taking more ice with me, but I would appreciate it if you would send one of the girls upstairs with a new supply on an hourly basis. It’s imperative that we keep Simone cool.”

  Again Raymond relayed the message, and after Henri shot back a reply in rapid-fire French, the man turned back to Rachel. “He said you may have anything you need, and if you would allow, he will prepare a broth that often helped his mother in treating the family whenever they were ill.”

  “That would be wonderful,” Rachel replied, moving to the icebox.

  Henri hurried forward with a large bowl, and before Rachel could even bother, he had opened the box and chipped away a large chunk of ice. He held it up to her like an offering, and with it Rachel took her leave and hurried from the room.

  She had just reached the stairs when Jeffery appeared. “How is she? What did the doctor say?”

  Rachel paused and tried to smile reassuringly. “It’s the heat, just as you feared. I’m to keep her cool by bathing her through the night. I’ve put Bethel in charge of the House, and between her and the manager, I’m sure everything will run in top order.”

  “I wish I could do something.”

  “Pray,” Rachel suggested. “That’s about all any of us can do.” Jeffery nodded but said nothing. “I’ll send word to your hotel if anything changes.”

  “I’d rather stay here,” Jeffery answered. “Could I just sleep in your office?”

  Rachel knew it was against the rules, but she also knew Jeffery
’s feelings for Simone. “Just this once, but stay out of sight.”

  Jeffery nodded. “I will. And, Rachel,” he added, causing her to turn once again, “please don’t hesitate to send for me if I can do anything to be of assistance.”

  “I will,” she assured. “I promise.”

  Jeffery sat at Rachel Taylor’s desk long into the night. He kept vigil in silent prayer, reminding himself that even though he’d never been given to great shows of faith, he did believe in God’s ability to heal the sick. He thought about the times he’d spent in church listening to flowery sermons preached from highly ornate pulpits. His mother felt it very important to be seen in church on Sunday, and the O’Donnell family pew was never without a crowd of well-dressed family and friends, all in order to prove to the good Lord and society the faithfulness of the O’Donnell clan.

  But such things did little good in situations like this. Jeffery found it impossible to remember a single verse or idea that had been preached to him. He wanted to pray in a way that would please God—wanted to make sure he included all the right words and acted in just the proper manner, but in truth he wasn’t at all sure he knew what the correct manner should be.

  “I don’t know how to pray,” he muttered. “Not truly. I’ve listened to the words of the ministers with all their thees and thous, and honestly it doesn’t mean a whole lot to me.” He didn’t even realize that he was directing his words to God until he looked upward to the ceiling and sighed. “I suppose I’m doing this all wrong, but I do ask you to make Simone well. I don’t know her past, and I don’t care. I suppose that sounds improper.” He paused and shook his head. “If it is improper, don’t hold that against Simone. Punish me for my lack of knowledge and inability to pray, but don’t punish her. Obviously she’s already endured plenty of that.”

  He sighed and leaned back in the chair, wishing Rachel might come through the door and announce Simone’s full recovery. He had no way of knowing how long these things took. If one prayed and truly believed God would do the deed, did it speed things along more so than when one prayed in an uncertain manner? There were just too many unanswered questions.

  Putting his head down on Rachel’s desk, Jeffery thought only to rest his eyes for a moment. There was nothing else he could do, he told himself. But it didn’t ease his concern. Simone Irving lay close to death just one floor above, and for reasons that defied normal thought, Jeffery couldn’t bear the idea of losing her.

  EIGHTEEN

  FORATIME UNA sat in one corner of the room, silently stitching away on Simone’s new gingham dress while Rachel continued her bedside care. The tall Swedish girl had explained that she wanted to finish the dress on Simone’s behalf even if the possibilities of her wearing it to the celebration were slim to none. Rachel thought it a lovely idea.

  “She’ll probably be encouraged by the fact that we continued with plans for Friday. Maybe she’ll see that we had every hope that she would recover,” Rachel said, trying her best to sound encouraging.

  “Ja,” Una replied. “My fader came down with a sun stroke once. He worked too long in the wheat field and Moder found him. He was sick for a good long time.”

  Rachel nodded and continued to bathe Simone. “Of course, Simone is young and strong. Hopefully, and with God’s help, she’ll recover quickly.”

  “Ja,” Una whispered softly and continued with her sewing.

  Rachel looked back at the restless body of her patient. “No. No,” Simone moaned over and over. At least she’s making some signs of life, Rachel thought. Several long hours had already passed in deathly silence, causing Rachel to fear that she might never again regain consciousness. The moaning and thrashing, however, seemed a good sign. Simone was fighting, and that could only be to her benefit, as far as Rachel was concerned.

  “No … don’t.” Simone pushed at imaginary images, then fell silent.

  Rachel could only imagine that Simone fought the same creature who had issued the stripes on her back. What horrors must inhabit the poor child’s mind!

  “Shhh,” Rachel comforted and stroked Simone’s fevered brow with the cloth. “No one can hurt you now. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

  Simone seemed to settle for a few moments, giving Rachel a feeling of hope and satisfaction. About this time, Una wearied of her sewing and readied herself for bed. She offered to help Rachel through the night, but Rachel admonished her to get some sleep.

  “Morning will come soon enough, and you’ll have to work doubly hard to help pick up Simone’s station.”

  Una nodded, knelt in prayer, then slipped into her bed. “It’s still so hot,” she murmured. “I wish we could make it better for Simone.”

  “I know,” Rachel replied. “But God has it all under control. He knows best.” She could only pray that God’s best included Simone’s recovery. She didn’t know how she would deal with the death of one of her girls, should Simone prove too weak to endure her ordeal.

  All through the night, Rachel bathed Simone with cool water. She longed to offer the unconscious girl comfort, especially when her moaning became more intense. The images had apparently grown more fearsome, and Rachel felt herself moved to tears as Simone pleaded for help.

  “Don’t go, Mama,” she cried out.

  “I’m here, Simone,” Rachel replied, not knowing how else to help her. She reached a hand up to touch her furrowed brow. The fever didn’t seem nearly as high, and Rachel began to hope that Simone’s recovery would come soon.

  “Didn’t mean to,” Simone said, thrashing violently to one side. “Didn’t kill him.”

  Rachel physically pulled back, unable to hide her surprise. Grateful that Una slept peacefully, Rachel tried to calm the racing beat of her heart. Kill him? What was she talking about?

  Simone continued to moan and twist in the bed until Rachel feared she might hurt herself. Still, every time Rachel tried to restrain Simone, it only caused her to react more violently.

  “No! Don’t touch me! Stay away!” Simone cried out, wrestling against Rachel’s tender hold.

  “God, please help me,” Rachel pleaded. “Give this poor child peace of mind so that her body can heal.”

  Spying the Bible beside Simone’s bed, Rachel picked it up and opened the cover. “‘Darling Daughter, I love you more dearly than my life, and I would gladly give it to save you from harm. Look for me, I am coming back for you, just as Jesus promised He, too, would come back for us one day. Mama.”’ Rachel read the words aloud and wondered at their meaning. Simone had said that her mother was dead. That both parents, in fact, had recently died. What did it mean that she would come back for her? Had her mother gone away only to die before she could make her way back home?

  Rachel tried not to think about it overmuch as she leafed through the pages and began to read aloud comforting words from the twentyseventh chapter of Psalms. “‘The LORD is my light and my salvation: whom shall I fear? the LORD is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?”’ Simone seemed to calm at the words, and, feeling encouraged, Rachel continued to read aloud, pausing only when she came to the seventh verse to rinse out the cloth she had placed on Simone’s neck and chest.

  “‘Hear, O LORD, when I cry with my voice: have mercy also upon me, and answer me. When thou saidst, Seek ye my face; my heart said unto thee, Thy face, LORD, will I seek.”’ Rachel felt tears come to her eyes and prayed that God might hear Simone’s cries of despair.

  “‘Hide not thy face far from me; put not thy servant away in anger: thou hast been my help; leave me not, neither forsake me, O God of my salvation. When my father and my mother forsake me, then the LORD will take me up.”’ Rachel reread the last sentence and thought of all that Simone had told her, and of the words given by Simone’s mother inside the cover of the Bible. “Do you hear that, Simone?” she questioned softly, once again bathing the younger woman’s body. “Even if the rest of the world has forsaken you, the Lord will take you into His care. You must see that He loves you, Simone. He would
not leave you to face this misery by yourself.”

  Rachel realized that she was rambling on, but even if Simone couldn’t hear and understand the words she spoke, they comforted Rachel. In this girl’s heart lay hideous and horrible secrets, the likes of which Rachel had never known. Somehow, some way, Rachel wanted to be a help to Simone. She longed to see her healed physically and spiritually. The pain was evident. The need—even more so.

  Bowing her head, Rachel began to pray and didn’t even realize she’d nodded off until Simone, regaining consciousness, called her name.

  “Rachel,” the weak voice called.

  Rachel jerked awake. “Oh no! I fell asleep!” she exclaimed, meeting Simone’s half-opened eyes. “Oh, you’re awake!”

  Una stirred from her bed but remained silent as Rachel began to question Simone. “Can you understand me?”

  “Yes,” Simone replied in a barely audible voice. “Where am I?”

  “In bed, I’m afraid,” Rachel replied, giving her a smile of encouragement. “You’ve fallen ill due to the heat.”

  Simone closed her eyes, not seeming to understand. Rachel rinsed the washcloth out in tepid water before speaking again. “I’ve been bathing you throughout the night. The doctor thought it the best way to bring down your fever. That and some pretty awful-smelling medicine I’ve been giving you.”

  Simone nodded and opened her eyes again. “I feel terrible. So weak.”

  “I don’t doubt you feel bad, but it will pass. You overdid things, and the heat made you collapse. It’s not all that unusual for Kansas summers. I should have thought better of working you so hard all at once,” Rachel replied, rambling along uncomfortably. How could she ever explain to Simone that she knew about her beatings and that in her fever-induced sleep, Simone had shared some rather revealing fears? Trying to ignore her concern, Rachel continued. “But I promise to see to your care, and you’ll be back on your feet before you know it. I’ve also been praying for you. Una too.”