A giggle behind her meant Linore had heard Louise’s sharp comment.
Louise inwardly sighed. Why couldn’t she hold her temper around Priscilla? She would have much to confess tonight, but for now, she had to relieve Mrs. Calloway of the responsibility for three spoiled girls.
“I plan to return to school after dinner. Priscilla, Adeline and Esther, I expect you to join me.”
“Why not Linore and Dinah?” Adeline protested.
“Because they are on schedule with their homework whereas you are not.”
“But there’s no school,” Priscilla pointed out with marked disdain.
“There will be. I intend to ask Mrs. Evans to resume classes tomorrow.”
She hoped Fiona would agree.
* * *
Jesse tried again to sort through the letters, but he just couldn’t. None of them measured up. None came close to Louise’s virtues. Not one mentioned an interest in science. Though the admirable skills of cooking, sewing and cleaning were mentioned, no lady hinted at the sort of valor that drove a woman to rescue a boy she only knew by acquaintance.
Frustrated, he shoved the letters aside and grabbed his coat.
He needed a walk.
The evening was quiet and calm. The crescent moon offered little light, but the lamplight spilling from houses and businesses was enough to light the way. Above, the lighthouse pulsed its beam across the water. He couldn’t walk for long. He needed a nap before taking over at midnight.
The school was dark except for windows on the upper level. The students must have returned. Briefly he wondered if Louise was there. He assumed she lived at the school in order to watch over her charges because she always seemed to be there, but she might be staying at the boardinghouse for now.
“Watch out!” cried a woman as he brushed past, barely missing her.
He turned back but only slowed his progress. “I’m sorry, ma’am.”
It was Fiona Evans, and she was not pleased.
He halted, chagrined.
Mrs. Evans didn’t hold back. “Mr. Hammond, first you refuse to honor your commitment at my school and now you nearly knock me off the boardwalk.”
“I’m sorry,” he managed to cough out before she continued. “I will make it up to you.”
“You could pay me back by resuming your lectures.”
Jesse knew manipulation when he saw it. And her efforts were undoubtedly spurred by her belief that he and Louise were a perfect match. Yet it could not be, not if he wanted a houseful of children.
“Mrs. Smythe will do an excellent job.”
“Mrs. Smythe? I thought you were on friendlier terms.”
“It is proper to refer to all but family and close friends in a more formal manner.” He ducked his head. “If you won’t be needing me further, I have to be on my way.”
“To where?”
Where indeed? Saying he needed to work through the most important decision of his life would only lead to more questions.
He glanced ahead. The store’s lights were still on. “To the mercantile.”
“Ah. I thought for a moment you were going to the boardinghouse, but Louise moved back to the school this afternoon.”
That answered that question. “I’m glad to hear she is well.”
Fiona’s gaze seemed to pierce through him. “She does owe her well-being to your quick actions. Thank you, Mr. Hammond.”
Jesse squirmed. “No thanks are needed. Anyone would have done the same. Moreover, your husband was the one who brought me to the correct location. Greater thanks go to the two of you for opening up the hotel to those who lost their homes.” He glanced again at the store. “I’d better hurry before they close.”
At last she let him go, and Jesse wasted no time getting to the mercantile. The door was still unlocked. He pushed it open, jangling the bell.
Roland looked up from his position at the counter. “Jesse! What can I get for you?”
“A wife?” Had those words really come out of his mouth? He forced a chuckle, as if to indicate he was joking. “Mr. Blackthorn insists a head keeper has to be married. I figure it’ll improve my chances of getting a lighthouse of my own.”
“That explains it.”
Jesse instinctively went on guard. “Explains what?”
“Why you’re getting so many letters from women.”
“There’s more?” Jesse hated to ask.
“A lot more.” Roland pulled two handfuls from the cubbyhole.
Jesse stared. “You’re joking.”
“Absolute truth. Look yourself.”
It took a few minutes for Jesse to examine every return address. He could only set aside one letter from his sister. The rest were written by strangers.
“You placed an advertisement,” Roland said.
“How did you know?”
“I’ve seen it before. More than one man in this town has gone that route.”
Jesse held up both stacks of envelopes. “How am I supposed to choose? And there’s more back in my room.”
“Have you written to any from the first batch?”
“I don’t know where to start. What if I make a mistake? It could be a catastrophe.”
Roland chuckled. “You sound like Garrett.”
“Oh? I thought he was married.”
“He is, to one of those mail-order brides like you’re going after.”
Jesse took it in. “How did he decide?”
“Luckily, all three women showed up in person, thanks to the wording on that fool advertisement.”
“Are you saying the advertisement was a bad idea?”
“It wasn’t ever intended to be published. Isaac and Sadie got a hold of an ad that I wrote as a joke and had Mrs. Calloway send it to a New York newspaper.”
“Oh, no.”
“Three women showed up: Amanda, Fiona and Louise.”
It was all coming back to Jesse. Mrs. Blackthorn had told him a little about this. “But I thought there were four.”
Roland grinned. “Pearl wasn’t actually responding to the advertisement. She was hired to teach school, but she talked her friend, Amanda, into answering it.”
“Well, at least I don’t have to face these women in person. There must be at least as many letters here as I already received. What am I going to do?”
“Eliminate the ones that won’t work and write a letter of regret. Then whittle down the remaining candidates by asking for more information.”
“I suppose I could do that.” Jesse pondered what to ask. Maybe if they liked science. No, that was liable to bring an enthusiastic if untrue yes. He’d have to word it carefully, perhaps ask what topics they most enjoyed in school. Those answers would definitely narrow down the field.
“But if you want my honest opinion,” Roland said, “go with the one who stirs your heart, the one you can’t stop thinking about, the one who drives you crazy.”
“Why would I want to marry a woman who drives me crazy?”
“For variety and spice. Life will never be dull. Trust me on this.”
Jesse fingered the letters. By those criteria, not one respondent deserved a positive response. Only one woman fit.
* * *
The next two days Louise watched for Jesse, hoping and praying that he’d decided advertising for a bride was a mistake. If he had tried to pay her a call at the boardinghouse but left because she was busy, he would call at the school now that life had settled into more of a normal pattern. Not that routine was like before. How could it be, with the hotel and boardinghouse filled with those who had lost their homes? Every plan was thrown into the air. The festival seemed frivolous. Wreaths were inconsequential. These people needed real help, but Louise didn’t know how to do it. With Fiona busy bet
ween the hotel and the school, she had hoped to discuss ideas with Jesse.
He never called on her.
She waited in the parlor after supper. She looked out the windows every morning after the lighthouse beam was extinguished, hoping to see him loping down the dune. Each day she was disappointed. What had she done? Considering he had carried her from danger, she’d expected he would call to wish her good health if nothing else. But they had established a deeper bond than mere acquaintance. He might consider her only a friend, but he had grown dear to her.
So she waited. Surely he would come to the school. She could not go to him, since she must stay with the girls at all times. He would know that, wouldn’t he?
That evening she settled in the parlor with her favorite book while Priscilla played piano. The girl was talented, but the sonatas jangled Louise’s nerves. Why didn’t Jesse call on her?
She thrust aside her copy of Pride and Prejudice, unable to fathom why Lizzie held such prejudice against a man of obvious good character. In the past those scenes would make her laugh or shake her head knowingly. Now they smacked too much of truth. Had she not judged Jesse incorrectly? According to Matthew’s gospel, she wasn’t to judge at all. Judge not, that ye be not judged. Oh, how easily she failed.
Restless, she hopped up and paced the length of the parlor and back again.
“Is something wrong, Mrs. Smythe?” Priscilla asked pointedly, her bright blue eyes too reminiscent of Jesse’s.
“No. Just restless. I can’t help thinking about all the displaced families.” It wasn’t the only thing on her mind, but it was all she could reveal to Priscilla. “Where will they go for the winter? Along with their houses and farm, they must have lost all the food they’d stored up. They don’t even have a spare set of clothing.”
Priscilla resumed the Mozart concerto.
Louise sat back down and picked up her book. She read the same page three times, while her thoughts drifted between Jesse and those who had lost homes. How selfish to think of romance when people were hurting.
Priscilla completed the piece with a flourish and then turned to Louise. “I suppose they will make do on the charity of others. Father contributes heavily to such funds.”
The simplistic, dispassionate response set Louise on edge, and she had to remind herself that Priscilla was only echoing what her parents had taught her. Unfortunately, the money her father gave to Chicago charities would never reach a town like Singapore.
“We shall have to turn to each other,” Louise said firmly. “I wonder if Mr. Stockton will allow the families to live in empty bunkhouses when the lumberjacks aren’t passing through.”
“What’s a bunkhouse?” Adeline asked from her perch beside Priscilla, where she turned the pages of the sheet music.
“It’s like a dormitory or orphanage,” Priscilla sniffed, “with everyone jammed together in one room.”
Louise saw Linore stiffen and suspected a retort was on its way. Dinah held her tongue better than the redhead.
“Not exactly,” Louise clarified. “It’s a cabin that houses several workmen. If you’ve walked around town, you’ve seen the vacant buildings.”
“Those are cabins?” Adeline’s mouth gaped. “They’ve got holes in them.”
“They aren’t perfect,” Louise admitted, “but it would give families a chance to stay together with some measure of privacy.”
“What would?” Fiona breezed into the room, looking somewhat pale and decidedly unhappy.
“We were just contemplating ways to give the displaced families a home until they get back on their feet.”
“Oh.” Fiona didn’t appear to even hear Louise.
“We must do something before winter sets in.”
“I suppose.” Fiona looked fidgety, something that was completely opposite normal. “Mrs. Smythe, may I speak to you? In private?”
The girls looked at each other and would no doubt speculate once their superiors had left the room. Louise’s heart skipped a beat. Had Jesse paid a discreet call, knowing the girls waited in the parlor?
She followed Fiona, who led her to her office.
Odd. There was no reason for Jesse to meet her there unless something bad had happened.
Heart in throat, she waited while Fiona unlocked the door and then lit a lamp. The room was empty.
“Please close the door behind you,” Fiona directed. Instead of sitting, she paced to the window and then back, clearly upset.
Louise’s mind raced to other possibilities. Had the influx of non-paying guests pushed the hotel into failure? Would the school soon follow?
“What is it?” Her voice wavered, drawing a look from Fiona.
“No one is hurt, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Louise instinctively breathed out in relief.
Fiona smiled. “I assume your Mr. Hammond is well, though I haven’t talked to him other than when he nearly ran into me on his way to the store.” Her expression sobered. “We’ve all been busy. Very busy.”
“Is that what’s troubling you? You may withhold my wages until business improves at the hotel.”
Fiona stared and then shook her head. “No, that’s not it. It’s simply that I’ve received unbelievable news, and I don’t know what to do.”
Her gaze held such an expression of pain and disbelief that Louise instinctively went to her friend. Fiona wasn’t overly expressive. A simple touch of Louise’s hand to Fiona’s arm conveyed support. “Whatever it is, I will help.”
“Thank you, but this is nothing that any one person can resolve. And yet it affects so many here.” Fiona blinked rapidly. “Sawyer wanted to board the first ship, but I begged him to wait at least until further news arrives.”
Now Louise was both confused and alarmed. “Don’t keep me in suspense. What happened?”
“The fires here, well, they’re not the only fires. Chicago is gone.”
“Gone?” Louise stepped back, a hand to her throat at the sheer magnitude of the statement. She recalled the grand Great Central Station and beautiful buildings between the train depot and the ship.
“What do you mean that it’s gone? A huge city can’t just vanish.”
“It burnt.”
“Some of it.”
Fiona shook her head. “According to the captain and crew of the schooner that just arrived, nearly all of it. There’s hardly a building left standing within sight of the main pier. And many perished. No one knows for certain how many or who they are.”
It was incomprehensible. “A whole great city? Impossible.”
“But true.” Fiona grasped Louise’s hands with urgency. “And that brings us to the dilemma. The girls are all from Chicago.”
“Their parents,” Louise gasped.
“As well as homes and siblings for Priscilla, Adeline and Esther. Even Dinah and Linore have friends living there. What do we tell them and when?”
Louise had no difficulty spotting the problem. “If we tell them too soon, they will want to find their families, but there’s no way to know if their relations survived or even if the family home is still standing.”
“I never dreamed of facing such a thing,” Fiona whispered.
The implications settled in. All five girls might be orphans.
Chapter Seventeen
“Is there any way to send back the letters?” Jesse asked Roland on Saturday morning.
The store was busy at this hour, but he had managed to corner the manager while Pearl waited on customers. The two men stood at the counter, where yet another stack of letters awaited him.
“Not a chance. They’re all in your hands now.”
Jesse blew out his breath. “But they’ll keep coming, and this stack will put the total over sixty. I can’t believe it.”
“Wh
at was the last date you were accepting applications?”
“Last date?” Jesse started. “Uh, I didn’t think about that.”
Roland chuckled. “Seems to be a common problem.”
“What do you mean?”
“Both Garrett and Sawyer forgot it too. Garrett was fortunate, but Sawyer had a lot of writing to do. I take it this means you’ve made your choice?”
He had. A lot of prayer reinforced what he’d felt since the night he’d carried Louise from the fire. Telling her was a huge step, one that could crush his heart worse than Clarice had when she refused him. He had the letters to fall back on, he told himself, but even he knew that a wife on paper alone was a poor substitute for a woman he greatly admired and cared about already.
Louise occupied his thoughts every day. Her grace, her strength and her calm stood far above everyone else. She had risked her life for a boy she barely knew. Even if their family was smaller, she would love each one with all that was within her. That made her the perfect choice—if Louise accepted his proposition. But he wasn’t about to tell that to Roland.
“I’m narrowing it down,” he said instead.
“Ah, some good prospects then.”
“Perhaps.” Jesse had to stay noncommittal.
“Then why ask to send these back? The perfect wife might be in this stack of letters.”
“It’s too much to sort out.” Though Jesse suspected any man would see through that excuse, Roland didn’t seem to notice.
“Just figure out a polite refusal and say the same thing to each one,” the store manager said. “And be glad you don’t have to do it in person.”
That thought struck terror in a man’s heart.
“Imagine sixty women standing in the store. All sizes and shapes and hair colors.” Roland swept a hand from back to front of the store. “One is bound to suit, but which one? A mistake lasts a lifetime.”
If Jesse hadn’t been nervous before, Roland just made it worse. What if pursuing Louise was the wrong choice? He didn’t know her all that well, better than those women who’d written, to be certain, but not well. She hadn’t said much about her late husband, other than his cruelty to her dog. Her reactions told him the marriage was not a happy one. The man must not have left her anything if she had to come to Singapore to find a husband. On the other hand, considering the number of responses he’d gotten to his advertisement, there must be a lot of war widows out there.
Would-Be Mistletoe Wife Page 17