Daylight Comes

by Judith Miller

  She stepped close to the child and tapped her toe in front of him. “I do believe you’ve taken this orphanage work to the extreme, Truth. It’s one thing to go down there and volunteer a few hours of your time. However, I find it disturbing that you’ve begun bringing them home with you—especially this one.”

  “This one? You speak as though he’s less than human, Aunt Lilly. His name is Jacob.” Truth grinned at the child. “Isn’t that your name? You’re our little Jake, aren’t you?” She cooed the words at the little boy, who gurgled and crawled toward her in helter-skelter fashion.

  “Oh, forevermore, Truth. He isn’t your little anything. That child is an orphan. I fear you’ve decided to replace your own child with one of these homeless ragamuffins.” Lilly grimaced and shook her head.

  “Don’t you see the problem in all of this? You’re a bright young woman. It’s highly probable you can have another child. And even if you don’t, you and Moses can lead a fulfilling life without children. In fact, if you aren’t tied down with a child, you’ll be able to devote more time to helping Moses achieve his political goals.”

  Truth scooped the child onto her lap and bounced him up and down. “Don’t you pay any attention to that heartless woman.” She purred the words at the little boy and nuzzled his neck before looking at her aunt. “Helping at the orphanage was Moses’s idea. He is delighted to have me bring the children home.”

  Lilly drew near and dropped down beside Truth. Jake held out his arms to the older woman. She ignored his chubby outstretched arms and instead directed her attention at Truth. “He wanted you to get out of bed; he wanted to have his wife back. Drastic measures were required to entice you back into some sort of normalcy. Now that you’ve seen life goes on, though, I think you could find opportunities to further Moses’s career rather than whiling away your time wiping drippy noses and playing games. It’s time you matured and proved you’re worthy of a man such as Moses.”

  Truth hugged Jake close and then set him back on the carpeted floor. She tossed the ball and watched as his arms and legs propelled him forward in perfect synchronization. Rolling onto his hip, he looked over his shoulder and grinned at her when he arrived at the colorful plaything.

  “Seems your Bible knowledge doesn’t include the part about lov- ing and caring for widows and orphans.”

  Lilly groaned. “Please, Truth. Don’t drape yourself with a cloak of self-righteousness. After all, since my return from Colorado, I’ve observed your selfish behavior. You’ve manipulated and attempted to coerce both your husband and your sister. So please don’t embarrass yourself by using the Bible in an effort to prove your point.”

  Truth winced at the retort. Although her aunt was correct, and Truth had admitted such behavior and asked God for His forgiveness, she wouldn’t confess her sins to Aunt Lilly. In fact, she wished her aunt would leave so she could enjoy her time with Jake.

  Instead, her aunt called Dovie from the kitchen and requested the maid prepare tea. Truth sighed. Tea meant her aunt would be here for at least another hour. She’d have little time alone with Jake, for she needed to have him back to the orphanage before suppertime. The little boy had become one of her favorites, and she’d even spoken to Moses about the possibility of adoption. Although he’d not yet met Jake, Moses had lovingly agreed to consider the idea. Truth had hoped he might be home in time to meet the child today. However, with Aunt Lilly standing watch, it mattered little if Moses arrived.

  She didn’t want to discuss Jake’s possible adoption in front of her aunt, especially after Lilly’s earlier remarks.

  Lilly went back to the window and peered outdoors. This time she immediately dropped the sheer curtain back into place and peeked through a tiny slit. Truth watched as the scene unfolded and wondered if her aunt would soon press her nose to the glass. “Has something interesting captured your attention?”

  Lilly immediately jumped away from the window. “I believe I see someone I know. I do dislike rushing off, but please offer my apologies to Dovie. I won’t be staying for tea.”

  Truth couldn’t imagine who or what had sparked Lilly’s early departure. Nevertheless, she was thankful for the reprieve. Assuring her aunt the tea preparations were of little consequence, she bid the woman good-bye and lifted Jake into her arms before going into the kitchen to deliver the news.

  Dovie grinned as she removed the kettle from the stove. “Good!

  Yer aunt Lilly makes me as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a roomful of rockers.”

  Truth chuckled, and both women spun in unison as the front door opened.

  “Oh no. She’s back.” Dovie leaned close and whispered the words into Jake’s ear.

  Thinking the entire matter a game, Jake chortled as he reached out and clutched a fistful of Dovie’s hair. Truth clasped his chubby hand and gently pried his fingers loose. “Sorry, Dovie. Young Jake thinks everything is a game.”

  “Does he now?”

  Truth looked up to see her husband walking down the hall, a sack in his hand.

  “So this is the young man who has captured my wife’s heart.”

  Moses reached out for the boy, who immediately lunged into his arms.

  Truth laughed as Jake clung to Moses. “Seems as though he’s now bent upon winning your heart, also.”

  She followed her husband into the parlor, where he settled the child on his lap and then handed Jake the package he had carried in with him. “See what you think of this, young man.”

  Jake chortled as he slapped at the paper wrapping and finally discovered a shiny, multicolored top. Moses carried him off the carpeted portion of the room. “Now, watch this.” Moses sat down with Jake and pumped the top’s handle up and down rapidly. Jake watched the toy whirl around as it traveled across the wood floor. Flipping his chubby body into a crawling position, Jake chased after the toy. He slapped his hand against the outer rim and giggled in wild abandon when the top flew and clanked across the foyer and came to an abrupt halt against the far wall.

  “He’s a fine little fellow, isn’t he?” Moses commented while Jake crawled after the top.

  “You’re quite right,” she agreed. “He’s not the ragamuffin Aunt Lilly labeled him.”

  Moses rocked back on his heels. “She called him a ragamuffin?

  What a terrible thing to say.” Moses looked about the room as if he expected Lilly to appear from behind the divan. “I didn’t realize Lilly had been here today.”

  “She stopped by unexpectedly and departed the same way. Something or someone attracted her attention when she was looking out the front window. She hastily excused herself.” Truth held her hand atop Jake’s and helped him pump the handle.

  “Strange behavior for your aunt. Perhaps she remembered something that required her attention at the store.”

  Truth shrugged. She didn’t want to discuss her aunt. Right now, she wanted to enjoy their time with Jake.

  Lilly lifted her parasol the moment she departed Truth’s house.

  Careful to keep her face concealed, she walked slowly down the street, intently watching the man walking twenty feet in front of her. His shoulders were stooped, and he leaned heavily upon a cane as he proceeded forward at a snail’s pace. Without warning, he stopped. Lilly crossed the street and looked into the window of the jewelry shop, occasionally peering from beneath the ruffled parasol.

  She peered in the shop window, pretending to be perusing the array of brooches and rings. When the man finally rounded the corner onto Kansas Avenue, she hurried after him. Reaching the turn, she stepped out only far enough to keep the man in view and then silently chastised herself for waiting until he was out of sight. The stranger was nowhere to be seen.

  Closing her parasol, Lilly sashayed past the row of stores that lined the avenue until she reached her millinery. Two fashionably dressed women acknowledged her as they departed the store, obviously completely unaware she owned the shop. Though she lived in exquisitely furnished rooms above the store, Lilly employed a manage
r to operate the shop. Lilly enjoyed creating the hats, and Mildred worked well with the customers. Only when Mildred was in need of a day off did she take over operations.

  Lilly tried to act nonchalant as she entered the store and waved at Mildred. “Any new orders?”

  Mildred held up several pieces of paper. “These should keep you busy.” The woman bent down and retrieved her satchel from beneath the counter. “I didn’t think you were going to return before closing time. Shall I lock the door on my way out?”

  “No need. I’ll go over the orders and then lock up.”

  Mildred hung the key on the hook by the front door. “I’ll see you in the morning.” Mildred’s gloves bowed in a limp salute as she brandished them overhead to wave good-bye.

  Lilly absently bid the woman good-night as she pored over the sheets of paper. Several of the orders would take no time at all, but this one—she tapped her finger atop the paper—this one presented an exciting challenge.

  With a renewed spring in her step, she strode off toward the back room. After a mindful look at the shelves, she pulled down several boxes of feathers and artificial flowers, as well as the bolt of net veiling with chenille dots that had arrived only yesterday. If properly ruffled, the veiling would create a lovely effect when fastened beneath the outer edge of the straw hat. Lilly carefully began to gather the netting, startled when the bell over the front door jingled. With a sigh, she dropped the veiling atop her worktable, irritated she’d forgotten to lock the door.

  Reaching the doorway of her workroom, she called out, “The store is closed, but we’ll reopen in the—” She stopped and gasped. “Bentley! So it is you.”

  He leaned on his cane and casually surveyed the shelves lined with perfume bottles and flower-bedecked hats before facing her. “Yes, Lilly. It’s me.”

  Scenes from the early years of her life flashed before her. Notwithstanding his grayish pallor, Bentley Cummings conveyed the frightening and undeniable strength she remembered. She tried to swallow but couldn’t. Her throat felt as though it had been packed with cotton. She leaned slightly to the side and glanced at the front door.

  Bentley shook his head and dangled the key from his finger. “Careless of you to leave your key hanging by the door.”

  Lilly nibbled her lip. He’d barred any escape out the front, and the back door always remained locked. The only key lay beneath her worktable. Her mind raced as she attempted to form a plan. Above all, she must remain calm. Bentley could smell fear.

  She walked forward a few paces and then stopped. She forced a sardonic smile. “You don’t look particularly well, Bentley. I can’t say that the years have been good to you.”

  “Ah, but you, my dear Lilly, don’t look a day older than when I last set eyes upon you.” He tucked the key into his waistcoat and nodded toward the rear doorway. “Why don’t we go back there.

  Passersby may assume your shop is still open if they see us standing here in the aisle, and I’ve already locked the door.”

  No good would come from arguing, so she led the way to the back room and took her place behind the worktable. She picked up the piece of veiling and worked her threaded needle through the edge, pulling it tight to enhance the ruffling. Ignoring Bentley’s amused grin, she continued to work.

  “If you prefer to sit . . .” she said, indicating a chair on the far side of the room.

  He maintained a watchful eye while he pulled the chair to the opposite side of the worktable. “Aren’t you going to ask how I found you, Lilly?” He propped his weight on the cane as he eased onto the chair.

  She looked up from the table and obligingly inquired, “How did you find me, Bentley?”

  His smile was as thinly veiled as the netting she held between her fingers. While she continued to fashion the ruffle, she listened to his tale. Lilly lifted the hat to eye level and gave a satisfied nod. Placing her creation on the counter, Lilly stooped behind the workbench.

  Moments later she bobbed up and dropped an artificial spray of lilacs in front of her.

  Bentley pointed at an artificial magnolia. “I prefer that one. The clump of lilacs is rather gaudy, don’t you think?”

  As he spoke of reading a New Orleans newspaper that lauded Moses’s election as state auditor, she sensed he was toying with her, playing a game of cat and mouse. “I knew you’d follow him. You never could stay away from powerful or wealthy men—preferably both.” His rasping laugh rang hollow. “Did Jarena send you the bounty notice and my letter?”

  “Yes. I received them.” Her fingers trembled as she sewed the net ruffle to the hat brim. She prayed he wouldn’t notice.

  “Then you know why I’m here.”

  “I can’t give you what I don’t have, Bentley.”

  He shifted his weight on the chair and ran his fingers through his thinning gray hair. “Surely you can see that my health has failed. I’m dying, Lilly. I want to find my son before that occurs. Is it so much to ask that you tell me if he’s alive or dead?”

  His words were compelling, yet she must not forget this was Bentley Cummings sitting before her, the man who had placed a bounty on her head. She steeled herself before looking directly into his eyes. His body convulsed in a spasm as a wracking cough besieged him. The powerful man whom she had long feared was replaced by a weakened old man. Her fingers wrapped tightly around the key she’d retrieved from beneath the worktable. If she moved quickly, there would be sufficient time to unlock the back door and race down the alley before he could catch his breath and pursue her. Yet she remained fixed, watching as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and held it to his lips. A deep red streak stained the crisp white linen square.

  She couldn’t deny his request, so she told him what she knew. “Only a few months ago I received information from New Orleans that your son is alive. However, I was sworn to secrecy, and I’ll not tell you his whereabouts. He is safe, being well educated, and receives excellent care. Your interference in his life is not welcome.”

  He shoved the tainted handkerchief back into his pocket. “And my money? Would it be welcomed?”

  Lilly shrugged. “I have no idea.”

  “It’s my desire to leave my estate to my son, if he’s truly alive. My will has been drawn to reflect my wishes, and it is in safekeeping at the First National Bank of New Orleans. All I ask is that you send word to my son so that he can file a proper claim upon my death.”

  Supporting himself with the cane, Bentley lifted himself up from the chair. “Will you agree?”

  “I’ll post a letter once you’ve boarded a train for New Orleans.”

  “Agreed.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew the front door key. “You look content, Lilly. Perhaps the West suits you.”

  She came around the workbench and accepted the key. “I’ve discovered it’s not where I live that’s given me contentment. I spent far too many years seeking peace and happiness from the wrong things— and so did you, Bentley.”

  He made no attempt to stop her as she walked past him and hurried upstairs, speaking to him over her shoulder. “Wait just a moment.”

  When she returned, she handed him a small leather-bound Bible.

  “Read this on your way home. It’s where I found my answers. I hope you’ll find yours before it’s too late.”

  CHAPTER

  31

  Nicodemus , Kansas

  Though Fern had looked surprised when Grace arrived, along with the Ditmores and John Rockley, on the doorstep of Truth’s home, she’d welcomed the group with aplomb that surprised Grace. Fern quickly set Arthur to work carrying baggage upstairs while she hastened to remove the dust covers from the furniture.

  Fern glanced over her shoulder. “I’m glad Arthur was home for his noonday meal. Your guests have a good deal of luggage.” She opened the pocket doors into the dining room. “We don’t use the parlor, so I thought it best to cover the furniture and keep the doors closed. I do apologize.”

  Grace folded one of the sheets and shook her
head. “No need for an apology, Fern. You had no way of knowing we would arrive.What else can I do to assist you?”

  “Will they be expecting tea right away? I can set a kettle to boil, and I’ll make a grocery list for Arthur. He can stop at the store on his way home from work this evening.” She stopped long enough to catch her breath.

  “I’ll help you prepare the tea, and we can plan the meals together, Fern.” Grace silently chastised herself. She should have written to Fern. Even if the letter had arrived only a few days in advance, the housekeeper would have at least had some warning.

  Fern raked her hand through her hair and virtually raced to the kitchen. “How long will you folks be staying—so I know how much to purchase?” She asked the question while bolting through the kitchen door. “With just Arthur and me to feed, I don’t keep a large quantity of food on hand. I hope they won’t want fancy food—my cooking is plain. I did a few fancy dishes for Mrs. Boyle, but not much.”

  “Please don’t fret.” Grace tried to reassure her. “You can be sure they’ll be pleased with whatever is served. Why don’t you begin making the tea and I’ll jot down a few items Arthur can purchase for us.”

  The words appeared to have a calming effect. At least Fern had slowed her frantic pace.

  Fern set the kettle on the stove and met Grace’s gaze. “How’s Mrs. Wyman getting on? I was sorry to hear the news about the baby. I should have written to her, but I didn’t know what to say.”

  “Thank you for your concern. Her progress has been slow, but she is doing somewhat better. When I write, I’ll tell Truth you asked about her health.”

  “That would be kind of you.” Fern pointed at a worktable on the far side of the kitchen. “I baked a gingerbread cake this morning. I could make a lemon sauce for on top if you think folks might want that with their tea.”

  Fern certainly wasn’t the same person Grace remembered. She hadn’t had a great deal of contact with Truth’s housekeeper, but from the accounts she’d heard from Macia Boyle, a remarkable change had occurred in Fern’s life. Perhaps it was her marriage to Arthur. Then again, Truth had mentioned that Fern was attending First Baptist— listening to Pastor James on Sunday mornings might have had some effect.