“It’s not a respectable place for a lady to go,” Colman told her.
Ivy tossed him a carefree smile. “I’m not going there to dine or stay—it’s a mission of mercy.”
Colman grunted. Mercy for a McLean woman who had clearly chosen the wrong path in life. He reminded himself that Jesus loved the woman at the well who’d been with a whole string of different men. Although that wasn’t the kind of Bible story he wanted to be telling from the pulpit.
Ivy grabbed her basket and the sack of belongings she’d packed in case the child was slow in coming. Colman glanced toward the window of his room. He really should go see if the landlord had packed up his belongings, but he couldn’t leave Ivy alone, and he certainly couldn’t take her to his room. It would just have to wait. That and going to see his father. First, he needed to escort Ivy to the hotel and make sure she would be safe there.
Taking Ivy’s sack, Colman offered her his arm. She smiled and looped her hand in the crook of his elbow. He liked the sensation of it. They headed for the rail bridge with its one lane for auto traffic and crossed over to the hotel sitting high on a bluff overlooking the river. The massive brick building was grand, and he could feel Ivy tensing as they drew near.
Maybe she wasn’t quite so confident as she pretended.
Colman had an idea. He guided Ivy to the first floor of the hotel with its array of businesses. Earl Nichols sold groceries and soft drinks out of a store on the ground floor. They’d start there. Stepping into the small store was far less intimidating than the grand lobby above. Earl came out from the back and smiled like he’d been waiting for them to arrive all day.
“Well look what the cat drug in,” he said and clapped Colman on the back. “I heard you run off to hunt Jake McLean and got kidnapped.” He waggled his brows. “’Course, some folks said you changed sides in the feud, but I been knowing your family long enough to guess that ain’t the truth of it.”
Colman shifted from foot to foot. It hadn’t occurred to him that there’d be rumors about his absence. Shoot, he’d been gone for two months. He should have realized folks liked a good story too much not to come up with one.
“I’ve been preaching over around Hinton,” he said.
“That ain’t near as entertaining, so it must be the truth.” Earl turned his attention to Ivy. Colman was relieved that he didn’t flinch at her colorless face. “And who’s this pretty lady?”
“This is Ivy Gordon. She’s here to look after Maggie.”
The older man sobered. “Glad to hear it. Maggie’s a good girl who was trying to turn her life around. It’s just too bad . . . well, that’s not my story to tell.” Earl patted Ivy’s hand. “You catch babies, do you?”
“My mother did, and I’ve helped.” She ducked her head. “Most folks don’t want me to tend them, though.” One hand strayed to her cheek. “But I’m real good at treating illnesses and hurts.”
Earl nodded. “Sounds like you and Maggie will do just fine together. Folks turn their noses up at her, too.”
Colman felt itchy. He was uneasy for some reason he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Maybe it was just having been away for so long. “Can you show us Maggie’s room?” he asked.
“Cain’t leave the store, but it’s easy to find. Go up the back staircase to the third floor. Her room’s at the far end of the hall on the back side of the hotel.” He shook his head. “No need to waste the view, I guess.”
Colman thanked him and led Ivy out of the store. If they were lucky, they wouldn’t see anyone along the way. Earl called out as they passed out the door. “Be careful if you go back into town. Like I said, there might be some who misunderstand why you’ve been away all this time.”
Feeling Ivy tense beside him once more, he gave her hand a quick squeeze and what he hoped was a reassuring smile. Misunderstandings . . . he hadn’t thought about what kind of trouble that might cause.
“What do you mean she’s not at home?” Serepta looked at Charlie like he was speaking a foreign language.
“Miss Ivy and that Harpe preacher gone to Thurmond to see to a woman having a baby. Hoyt told me they might be gone a week or more.”
“Who’s going to look after Emmaline?”
Now it was Charlie’s turn to give her a disbelieving look. “I reckon you and me are. Unless you’ve got someone else in mind?”
Emmaline walked in then, her dress buttoned up crooked. She marched up to Serepta. “I got dressed by myself.”
“So I see.” Serepta glanced down and noticed that the child’s unbuckled shoes were on the wrong feet. She started to correct the error, then stopped. “And you’ve done a fine job. Is there anything that might need adjusting?”
Emmaline wrinkled her nose and thought it over. “My shoes feel funny.”
“And what shall we do about that?”
The child chewed her lip and looked at her shoes. Then she plopped down on the floor, removed both shoes, switched them, and stood again. She grinned like she’d solved the world’s biggest problem.
“Shall I buckle them for you?”
Emmaline narrowed her eyes. “I want to, but it’s hard.”
Serepta nodded. She knew about wanting to do things that were hard. “Then you’ll just have to keep trying, won’t you?”
Emmaline nodded and noticed her buttons. She sat back down and began unbuttoning, buttoning, then starting over again. Serepta lifted her gaze to Charlie. Silent laughter made his whole body shake, and she suspected it was a strain for him not to double over and slap his knees in glee. She looked back down to Emmaline, who had undone all her buttons, revealing an undershirt that was on backwards. She felt her own lips quirk.
Charlie could finally hold it in no more and began laughing in earnest. Emmaline glanced at him and smiled, but then she quickly turned her attention back to her wardrobe. Serepta firmed her mouth but knew her own amusement showed in her eyes.
“Go on then, Charlie. It appears Emmaline will be occupied for some time. And when she has completed her toilette, she can help me count bottles. It seems Mack has recovered more of our misplaced goods.”
Charlie shook his head, and Serepta noticed for the first time that his ebony hair was beginning to show silver, the same as hers. Well, perhaps caring for a four-year-old would help to keep them both young a little longer.
“I’ll be in the kitchen bossing Hallie around if you need me,” he said. He smiled, slow and warm, like pouring boiled frosting over a cake. Serepta couldn’t help but smile back at him.
Ivy knocked softly on the door while Colman watched up and down the hall. They’d come up a back staircase and had only passed three people, all appearing to be well-heeled businessmen. Colman didn’t much like the way they looked at Ivy, then him, as though making assumptions. Ivy was so intent on her destination, she didn’t appear to notice.
There was a brief scuffling inside before the door cracked open. A woman’s light gray-green eye peered out at them. “Who is it?”
“I’m Ivy Gordon. Lena McLean sent me.”
The door opened wider, and they could see more of Maggie, a petite woman with light brown hair swept into a messy twist and a wrapper doing little to conceal her condition. “Come on in then. I swear I might have this baby any minute.” She looked Colman up and down. “You’re both welcome, but your feller might want to think whether he wants to be here for the main attraction.”
A laugh popped out of Ivy, and she turned to Colman, a question in her eyes.
“I need to go see my father,” he said. “I’ll come back to check on you after supper.”
Maggie grunted. “Gets rowdy around here of an evening. Come up the back stairs.”
Colman turned to leave but felt awkward just walking away. He looked back to Ivy, who was looking at Maggie with an expression of wonder. He reached out and touched her shoulder. She turned that intense gaze on him, and he felt warmth travel through him like music. “Stay in the room with Maggie. I’ll be back for you.”
&nb
sp; Ivy smiled, all light and joy. “I know you will.” Then she stepped through the doorway and eased it shut behind her. Colman stared at the closed door before finally giving himself a shake and making his way back out of the hotel. She’d be fine. No reason she wouldn’t be.
By suppertime, Serepta wondered how she’d survived raising her own children. Or more to the point, how they’d survived it. Mack turned up late in the afternoon with another load of liquor crates. Serepta watched him unload them into an outbuilding with her arms crossed while Emmaline drew in the dirt at her feet with a stick.
“You seem to have found a regular supply of my missing goods.”
“Sure did,” Mack said. She was surprised by how strong he was. She would have thought he’d go soft while away at school.
“Is there more yet?”
Mack frowned. “Maybe.”
“It would be more convenient if you would arrange to take these directly to the point of distribution.”
“You are nothing if not practical, Mother.” He shook his head and thumped the last crate. “Shall I take this one down to the depot?”
“Your brother arranged for someone to stow the goods. Ask him where it would be best to take this one.” She cocked an eyebrow. “And any others.”
“Jake hasn’t had much use for me lately.”
Serepta kept an eye on Emmaline as she began gathering rocks and building what looked like a nest out of them. “Really? Or is it you who doesn’t have much use for him?”
Mack laughed, leaned against his truck, and crossed his arms. “It goes both ways. You know he’s a wastrel.”
Serepta smiled without it reaching her eyes. “Perhaps you could guide him. It would be ideal if the two of you learned to work together. If this family enterprise continues to grow, there will be plenty of responsibility—and income—to go around.”
“Would that please you?”
Serepta hesitated at the unexpected question. Please her? “It would please me to know what I have built is in good hands.” She continued to watch Emmaline’s hands as they stacked stones with surprising dexterity for one so young. “It’s late to start training someone else to take over.” She looked into Mack’s eyes and saw his expression harden.
“I agree,” he said. “Maybe I will have a talk with Jake. Perhaps we have more in common than we realize.”
chapter
twenty
The hike up the mountain to his father’s house seemed steeper than Colman remembered. He was panting by the time he reached the porch, the July sun too hot against the top of his head. He thought his father would be outside, but the single chair on the porch sat empty and the house felt too quiet.
“Dad? You here?” Colman called out as he leaned against the doorframe to catch his breath.
From the darkness of the front room he heard a stirring. “’Bout time you came around.”
“You got word, didn’t you?”
“Eventually. You know Webb. He does things in his own time.”
Colman flinched. This was as close as his dad would come to accusing him of causing worry. He could have written. He could have sent word another way, but he’d been too wrapped up in his own troubles. In the dim room he could just make out his father sitting in a sprung armchair with an old towel draped over the back of it. His dad looked thinner, more worn. Or maybe he’d always looked that way and Colman was just now noticing.
“Sorry about that.”
Dad raised one hand and let it fall back to the arm of the chair. “No harm done. You back to stay?”
“Not sure. I brought Ivy—she’s a healer—to tend one of the girls over at the Dunglen.”
His father coughed. “You been over there? I ain’t been since before I married your ma.” His grin came fast, out of nowhere. “She didn’t think that place was suitable for a married man. I told her how Jesus spent plenty of time with shady folks, but she didn’t buy that argument.” His grin faded. “Can’t say as I minded doing what she wanted.” He sighed and thumped the arm of his chair with a fist. “Your plunder’s in there in the bedroom.”
Colman furrowed his brow. “My things? What do you mean?”
“When you didn’t come back, Walt down to the bank cleaned out your room and rented it to somebody else.” He levered himself to his feet. “He could’ve just tossed it all. Guess it was a kindness that he brung it to me. Some of the Harpes ain’t too happy about you running off to the McLeans. Guess they don’t quite believe this preaching business.”
Colman followed his father into the one bedroom in the house. He hardly ever came in here. The covers were rumpled, and the mattress was sunken on the right side where he supposed his father slept. The left side that would have been his mother’s was perfectly smooth, her pillow covered with a lacy sham. Colman felt a lump form in his throat but pushed it back down. A pasteboard box sat on the dresser holding his spare clothes, one pair of dress shoes, two books, a wheel-tapping hammer, a picture of his mother, and a pocket watch. Colman had never seen all his worldly goods gathered together before, and he was surprised at how few there were.
“Can I leave this stuff here?” he asked.
“Sure. Where’re you staying?”
Colman hadn’t thought that far. Somehow he’d had the idea his room would still be waiting for him. “I don’t know.”
“You’re welcome to stay here. I’ve slept on that sofa more’n once. It ain’t bad.”
Colman nodded, took out the photo of his mother, and set it on the dresser. “Appreciate it. How about I rustle us up some supper? And then I’d better go check on Ivy over at the hotel.” His father’s answering smile brought the lump back to Colman’s throat.
Colman approached the hotel in the gathering dusk. A whippoorwill called from the tree line, and he heard another—probably on the far side of the river—return the call. He swung wide to avoid the steps, angling up to the broad wraparound porch.
“I heard you brought a healer to look after Miss Maggie.”
The deep voice seemed to fall from the sky, but when Colman looked up, he saw it was the hotel manager, Alden Butterfield, leaning on the porch rail and looking down at him.
“I guess Maggie’s not so wild about that doctor you keep on hand,” Colman said.
Alden snorted. “I wouldn’t let him touch me with a ten-foot pole, but his price is reasonable.” He motioned with his head toward the back of the hotel. “I’ll meet you at the back door.”
Colman grimaced and trudged on around. He would have preferred that his comings and goings went unnoticed. But while Alden wasn’t in the running for citizen of the year, he always knew what was happening in his hotel.
Alden stood holding the back door open. “I’m disappointed that you didn’t come see me when you first arrived. I imagine you meant to set that to rights this evening.”
Colman rubbed the back of his neck. “How’s business?”
“Terrible.” Alden let the door swing shut behind them and steered Colman to a staircase he hadn’t used before. It was almost as if he wanted to make sure Colman avoided certain parts of the hotel’s storage area. And that was fairly likely with all the nefarious goings-on at the Dunglen.
“Sorry to hear that.”
“I’ll bet you are. You and all the self-righteous Harpes.” The fair-haired man’s eyes gleamed. “Even the ones who come around when they think no one’s looking.”
Colman flushed, but let the gibe slide away. “Folks around here losing their taste for sin?”
Alden barked with laughter. “Not likely. The problem is automobiles. That and how I hear some of the mines are playing out. It’s easier to drive to Glen Jean or even Oak Hill for entertainment.”
“Guess you’ll have to consider becoming respectable.” They reached the top of the stairs, and Alden held the door open for Colman to enter the hall.
“Respectability is overrated.” Alden flicked a speck of something from Colman’s sleeve. “I’m not too worried. Seems like there’s a
lways a new opportunity to serve the world’s vices.” He winked, then disappeared back down the staircase.
Colman shook off the feeling he’d just been escorted to a cell by a warden. He stepped down the hall and knocked softly at the door to Maggie’s room. It opened a crack, and Ivy peered out at him, the paleness of her sparse lashes making her eyes seem even bluer. She opened the door wider, inviting him into a small sitting room.
“Come in, but you can’t stay more than a minute.” Her eyes were gleaming with life, her complexion almost rosy. “Her labor’s started, but she has a ways to go yet.”
Colman blanched. He hadn’t thought about actually being present when the time came. He knew almost nothing about childbirth and had no desire to learn. “I’m just here to check on you.”
“Oh, I’m fine.” A soft moan came from behind an interior door, but Ivy didn’t appear to hear it. “One of Maggie’s friends brought us some food, although Maggie’s not very hungry. I’ve given her some raspberry leaf tea to help move things along.”
Another groan emanated from behind the door. This time Ivy turned her head toward the sound. Then came a deep, guttural cry, and Ivy flew into the next room. Colman had begun backing toward the exit when Ivy suddenly reappeared and grabbed his arm. “I need your help,” she said, pulling him into the bedroom.
Serepta couldn’t remember the last time she ate a meal with both of her sons. Charlie brought in a platter of deviled eggs and added them to the pork roast, creamed potatoes, and a salad of fresh cucumbers from the garden. The thought that she should invite Charlie to eat with them flitted through Serepta’s head, but she dismissed it with a half smile. This meal was likely to be difficult enough without intentionally adding to it.
“Is Emmaline asleep?” she asked Charlie.
“I doubt it. She kept asking for you.”
The comment pleased her. It was good that Emmaline asked for her rather than her mother or even Ivy. She would go look in on the child once this meal was concluded. She nodded to Jake. “You may serve as the eldest.”
When Silence Sings Page 16