A Perfect Silhouette Page 17

  Mellie leaned closer to the candlelight and smoothed the wrinkles from the letter as she attempted to read the scribbled note. She squinted, gasped, and turned to Phebe. “Oh, Phebe, I am so very sorry. I know how much you loved your little brother.” Rather than providing comfort, Mellie’s words seemed to offer little consolation.

  Phebe continued to rock back and forth. “It’s all my fault. Forgive me, Lord. It’s all my fault. Forgive me, Lord.” Over and over she repeated the incantation.

  Mellie knelt in front of Phebe. “His death is not your fault, Phebe. You told us that he was a sickly child. From your mother’s letter, it appears he contracted the croup and that led to pneumonia. His frail body was unable to fight off the infection. I don’t understand why you’re holding yourself responsible.”

  Phebe swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’ll tell you why.” She hiccupped and gulped a lungful of air. “Instead of sending home money so that my folks could buy enough firewood to keep their rooms warm, I spent my money on lottery tickets.” She withdrew a handkerchief from her skirt pocket and wiped her nose. “I was so sure I would win, and when I did, they’d be all set for a long time to come. They’d be able to afford a doctor for Timmy whenever he was sick, they’d be able to buy medicine and food, and they wouldn’t have to worry about having enough wood to heat their rooms or whether they’d be able to pay the rent. Don’t you see, Mellie? If I would have sent my money home, Timmy would still be alive.” She hunched forward and once again began to rock back and forth.

  Mellie grasped Phebe’s hands in her own. “I know there’s nothing I can do or say to ease your pain, but the three of us love you, Phebe, and we know your intentions were to help your family. If you’d like to go home for a visit, I’m sure the overseer would grant you permission. You’re a good worker, and they’d let you come back after you’ve had some time at home.”

  Phebe shook her head. “You read the letter. Ma said there was no reason to come home—they’ve already buried Timmy.”

  Mellie nodded. “But it might give you some peace to go home and spend a little time with your mother and father.”

  “No. I think it would make it harder. Ma didn’t say so, but I know they blame me.”

  Mellie rocked back on her heels. There was nothing she could do to change the situation, but she could ask God to grant her friend peace and comfort in the days to come. In the meantime, she’d do her best to offer Phebe solace and reassurance. She knew Cora and Clara would do the same.

  The three girls had comforted Phebe until she fell asleep several hours later. Though exhausted, they sat on the bed across the room, each of them saddened and weary.

  Mellie turned to the twins. “Did the two of you know Phebe had been purchasing lottery tickets?”

  They shook their heads in unison. Cora sighed and glanced toward the other bed. “Before you came home this evening, she said she hadn’t been sending much money home since the shops in town began selling those lottery tickets. She showed them to me. I couldn’t believe she’d purchased so many. I do wish she would have said something to one of us. We could have tried to convince her it was foolish. She thought if she bought enough tickets, she’d be sure to win, but when she received that letter, she blamed herself and said she’d never be able to go home and face her family.”

  A cloak of darkness wrapped around Mellie’s heart. The life of a small child had been lost, and who could say what other tragedies would occur before the merchants stopped selling those tickets? The cost of this lottery was far too great.

  Chapter

  eighteen

  THE NIGHT HAD BEEN LONG, AND NONE OF THEM SLEPT well. Phebe was restless and cried through most of the night. Even when Phebe was quiet, Mellie’s sleep had been interrupted by thoughts of what had happened. As the night wore on, remembrances of her niece and nephew marched through her mind, and tears had pricked her eyes. She couldn’t imagine the depth of Phebe’s anguish.

  After hearing the sad news, fearing that Phebe would be overcome with grief, Mrs. Richards agreed that one of them should remain home from church to be with her. Clara insisted she be the one to stay behind, and Mellie didn’t argue with her. She doubted she would win. Clara seemed to feel a deep responsibility to care for Phebe, perhaps because she’d been the first one to speak with Phebe after she received the news. Or perhaps because Clara wanted to reveal God’s love to her friend.

  Before leaving for church, Mellie carried a tray of food upstairs for Clara and Phebe. When she entered the room, Phebe was sitting on the edge of the bed while Clara brushed the girl’s hair.

  “Thank you, Mellie,” Phebe said. “Even though Mrs. Richards said she told the others they shouldn’t ask me any questions, I don’t think I could go downstairs and sit with them. It would be too uncomfortable.”

  Mellie placed the tray atop one of the trunks. “I’ll be happy to bring your meals upstairs for as long as you like, Phebe.” She smiled at the two girls. “I hope you’re both hungry. I piled your plates so full, Mrs. Richards wondered if I was going to have a second breakfast with the two of you.”

  Clara continued brushing as she met Mellie’s gaze. “I’m so hungry my stomach’s been growling loud enough to wake the dead.” Phebe flinched at the words. Realizing what she’d said, Clara froze for what seemed an eternity. She returned to slowly stroking Phebe’s hair with the fine-bristled brush. “I’m sorry, Phebe. I spoke without thinking. I didn’t mean to . . .”

  “It’s fine, Clara. You can’t watch every word you say around me.” Phebe shifted on the bed and attempted a smile. “I appreciate everything you three have done for me.”

  Mellie removed her good bonnet from a wall hook near her bed. “We know you’d do the same for us, Phebe. I must hurry now or Mrs. Richards will be coming upstairs to scold all of us. Just know that if there’s anything you need, we’ll do our best to help.”

  “Thank you, Mellie.” Tears pooled in Phebe’s eyes, and she looked away.

  “Mellie! We need to leave for church right now!” Mrs. Richards’s voice echoed from the lower hallway.

  Mellie waved to the two girls and hurried down to the second floor, where Mrs. Richards was waiting with her hands on her hips and a scowl creasing her face. “You’re going to cause me to be late for church, Mellicent.”

  Mellie continued along the hall and down the next flight of stairs with Mrs. Richards following in her wake. When they arrived at the front door, Mellie glanced over her shoulder. “Since we are caring for one of God’s grieving children, I believe He will forgive you if you’re late, Mrs. Richards. I think the Lord reserves His wrath for greater offenses, don’t you?”

  Mrs. Richards sniffed. “Since you’ve become an authority on what God thinks, perhaps the members of the clergy would like to visit with you. Most of them don’t claim such deep insight.”

  Mellie sighed, shoved her arms into her coat, and tied her bonnet in place. She walked with Cora, Mrs. Richards, and several other girls who had required Mrs. Richards’s urging to be present for services. When they arrived at the corner of Franklin and Market Streets, Mellie waved to the others. “I need to turn here. I attend the Franklin Street church.”

  Mrs. Richards nodded. “I know where you attend, Mellie.” Ada tried to follow along with Mellie, but Mrs. Richards grasped her arm. “I’m no fool, Ada. You don’t attend the Franklin Street church—you’re hoping to sneak off and return to the boardinghouse. Well, that isn’t going to happen.”

  Ada frowned and attempted to argue with Mrs. Richards, but even without looking back, Mellie knew Ada wouldn’t win. Above all else, Mrs. Richards wanted high praise that she was operating her boardinghouse within her allocated budget and that her girls were following the rules. When she presented her ledgers to the boardinghouse supervisor, Mrs. Richards wanted a balanced financial sheet and, if she had her way, a notation by all the girls’ names that they regularly attended church, hadn’t been absent from work, and had been home by ten o’cl
ock every night. If one of her girls did anything to cause an imperfect report, the rest would suffer. No doubt, Phebe’s illness, along with Mellie’s tardy appearance this morning, had set the keeper’s nerves on edge.

  The bells chimed in the distance, and Mellie quickened her step. There was a bite in the frosty air, but at least the wind wasn’t howling anymore. For that she was grateful. Warmth greeted her as she stepped into the sanctuary and made her way down the aisle. She slid into a pew, leaned back, closed her eyes, and let the sounds of the pipe organ wash over her. The familiar hymns soothed her worried thoughts of Phebe. The pastor stepped to the pulpit, lifted his hand for the congregation to stand, then recited a blessing. The organist played the opening chords of “Hallelujah, Praise Jehovah,” and the congregation lifted their voices in worship.

  Before the song had finished, a man’s form moved into Mellie’s peripheral vision, and she edged to the center of the pew. Morgan’s tardiness was unusual, and she had begun to think she wouldn’t see him this morning. During the sermon, she rested her hand at her side. He placed his hand atop hers and gave a gentle squeeze. A quiver raced up her arm. She considered withdrawing her hand, but she needed to feel the warmth of his presence. After what had happened to Phebe, Mellie could use all the strength Morgan could offer.

  She did her best to give the pastor her full attention, though her thoughts wandered back to Phebe on several occasions. She hoped her friend would find the ability to forgive herself for what had happened and understand that her intentions of helping her family, though misguided, had been good. She had hoped the lottery would pull her family out of poverty. Yet, even before the drawing had taken place, her dream had been shattered by death.

  After the final stanza of “Just as I Am,” the congregants made their way out of the pews, stopped to shake hands with the pastor, and dispersed toward their homes, girded by God’s Word and hopefully prepared to accept life’s challenges in the coming week.

  Mellie rested her hand in the crook of Morgan’s arm as they walked down Franklin Street.

  “I was hoping you’d accept an invitation to go ice skating with me this afternoon. The pond is frozen, and I think there’s going to be a large group there. It should be fun. I’ve even managed to borrow some skates I think will fit onto your shoes. Since you don’t have to work, I was hoping you’d join me.”

  His smile was charming, and she didn’t want to disappoint him, but she couldn’t spend her afternoon ice skating. Not after what had happened last night. Even if she agreed to go, she wouldn’t be good company. She’d be thinking of Phebe and her little brother.

  “Thank you for the invitation, but I can’t.”

  “But why? You need to take some time for yourself, Mellie. You know that old saying: ‘All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.’ We all need to play a little, don’t you think?”

  “I do, but not today. I made a commitment, and I need to be back to the boardinghouse by three o’clock.”

  He stopped short and grasped her hand. “Then let’s go to the livery. I’ll rent horses and a sleigh. We can go for a ride, and I promise I’ll have you back before three o’clock.”

  She wanted to agree, yet the rules stated she must advise the keeper if she wasn’t going to return home for a meal—and she hadn’t done so. “I can’t. I didn’t tell Mrs. Richards I wouldn’t be there for the noonday meal.”

  He shaded his eyes and looked down the street. “Isn’t that Mrs. Richards and a couple of the girls from your boardinghouse coming this way?”

  Mellie turned around. “I think so, but—”

  “Wait here! I’ll be back in no time.”

  He took off at a run, and when he’d neared Mrs. Richards, he slowed and walked alongside her. Before long, he was racing back. He panted for breath and gestured toward the boardinghouse keeper. “I asked her permission, and she said it would be fine this once since she wasn’t serving a large meal until supper. She said if we stopped by the house, she’d give us some bread and cheese to take with us.”

  Mellie gasped, surprised by Mrs. Richards’s generosity. The woman wasn’t known for such kindness. “You must have charmed her.”

  “The only one I want to charm is you, Mellie.” He grinned. “So? Are you going to say yes and join me?”

  Mellie nodded. How could she refuse? Besides, she needed to talk to someone she trusted. He would listen and empathize with what had happened.

  A short time later, he helped her into the sleigh and, after a brief stop at the boardinghouse, they were on their way out of town and into the countryside. She was surprised at his ability to maneuver the horse-drawn sleigh along the rutted, narrow road encrusted with muck, snow, and ice. “You act like a man who has handled horses all his life.”

  “I’ve been around my share. I promise I’ll do my best to make certain the sleigh doesn’t tip over. You’re safe with me.” Humor glinted in his blue eyes.

  Along the way, they passed several large estates that sat back from the road, each one with its own private drive and entrances that boasted magnificent porticos. Seeing them, she recalled that Morgan had never described for her the interior of the Stark home.

  “Is this the area where the Starks live?” Mellie asked. “Our conversation was cut short, and I never did get to hear what their home is like.”

  “Yes, they do live near here. We passed their house a short time ago.”

  “Oh, I do wish you would have told me. Would you please point it out on our return?”

  He nodded. “I’ll try to remember.”

  She longed to talk with Morgan about what had happened last night, but she wanted to wait until they stopped to eat. Right now, he was concentrating on his driving, and she wanted his full attention when she told him about Phebe. While she was somewhat interested in the Stark home, she’d been inside many fine estates in Concord. In truth, she was more curious what Morgan thought of such a fine dwelling. From what she’d learned about him, he’d not had the same opportunities she’d experienced in her earlier years. “Why don’t you tell me about the Starks’ home? Were the furnishings lavish? Did they have lots of servants? Did Mr. Stark serve refreshments?”

  He gave her a sideways glance and grinned. “Let me see if I can recall each of your questions. “Yes, the furnishings were lavish. I saw only one servant, but there may have been others. No, Mr. Stark didn’t serve refreshments. Was that everything?”

  She gave him a look of mock indignation. “Tell me what rooms you were in and what they looked like. I want more details.”

  “Details? Let’s see. I went in the rear door—it’s in the back of the house.”

  “Morgan!”

  He tipped his head back and laughed. “All right. The kitchen was large, although I didn’t get to see much more than the huge wooden worktables because the maid hurried me through a hallway, where there were pictures of relatives—at least I would guess they were relatives—hanging on the walls. There was a carpet runner in the main hall, and Mr. Stark’s office was at the end of it. The doors into the other rooms were closed. Mr. Stark sat behind a large desk that looked as though it was made of walnut. There were chairs upholstered in dark colors, with Mr. Stark’s chair covered in leather. Over the fireplace was a painting, a simple bucolic scene with some sheep.” He hesitated. “Oh, and there was an impressive winding staircase leading to the upper floors of the house.”

  “It sounds quite lovely. Did you think it quite remarkable?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t think such a large house is necessary, but yes, it was very nice.” He pulled back on the reins. The horses slowed, then came to a halt not far from a pond. There was a spot where logs surrounded a charred site used for fires to keep skaters warm. After tucking the blanket around her, he jumped out of the sleigh. “Stay here and I’ll get a fire started. I don’t want you to get too cold.”

  Mellie pulled the blanket tight beneath her chin. While this outing had sounded like a wonderful idea a short time ago, she wasn�
��t sure eating bread and cheese in the snowy countryside was the best idea. She peered over the edge of the blanket and watched sparks skitter around the stacked wood, take hold, and send flames shooting heavenward, then settle to a welcoming fire.

  Morgan hurried back to the sleigh, helped her down, wrapped the wool blanket around her shoulders, and grabbed their basket of food. “You’ll be warm in no time. I promise.”

  She hoped he was right. If not, her chattering teeth would prevent her from eating a single bite. He led her to a log he’d brushed free of snow, and once she was seated, he skewered a chunk of bread onto a stick to toast for her.

  He returned a few minutes later with the warm, crispy offering. “Hurry and put your cheese on the bread so it’ll melt some.”

  Mellie did as she was told and then took a bite. The gooey cheese and toasted bread exploded with flavor on her tongue.

  Once Morgan had toasted his piece, he took a seat beside her. By then her thoughts had turned away from food and were focused on Phebe and what had happened last night. “Morgan, I need to talk to you about something.”

  Morgan’s chest tightened. Mellie needed to talk to him about something. Had his lies finally caught up to him? He swallowed hard. “What is it?”

  Sadness washed over him as he quietly listened to Mellie recount the contents of Phebe’s letter. When she’d finished, Mellie shook her head. “She loved Timmy dearly, almost as though he were her own child—likely because he was so much younger than her. Through her tears she told us how she’d cared for him from his birth until she left home and came to Manchester.” She looked up and met his eyes. “Phebe cried so hard while telling us about him that she could barely get the words out.”

  He couldn’t fathom the extent of Phebe’s grief. To have her brother die at such a young age, especially while she was living far from home, had to be overwhelming.