Courting Miss Adelaide (22 page)

“Okay! I like to make people happy. And I like to talk.”

Addie touched Emma’s cheek. “You make me very happy, sweetheart.” She looked at Charles. “It’s nice of you to assume Emma might one day hold a position in government. Perhaps my position on suffrage has swayed the editor.”

Charles chuckled. When he’d made the comment, he hadn’t thought of the implications. He could well imagine Emma getting that choice someday. But, did Addie have to lead the charge?

Toward the end of the meal, the conversation drifted to circulation figures, and Emma caught Charles’s eye.

He tapped Addie’s hand and pointed at the little girl who had nodded off at the table. “Apparently, we bored her.”

Her gaze soft with tenderness, Addie smiled and rose. Charles scooped Emma in his arms, and followed Addie to the child’s room. When he laid Emma down, she opened her eyes. “Do I have to go to bed?” she asked with a yawn.

“You’re sleepy,” Addie said.

While Addie stayed to oversee Emma’s bedtime ritual, Charles returned to the kitchen. As he washed and set the plates to drain, the gentle melody of a lullaby drifted to him.

His mother had sung that same tune to him and Sam. The memories it brought back were bittersweet, tinged with pain and loss, but also with his mother’s kisses and gentle touches. The sweet sound of Adelaide’s voice carried through him, soothing his spirit. For an instant, he wanted to capture the feeling, to stay with Adelaide and Emma, to promise them ever after.

But the moment passed. He had no reason to think he’d be capable of that kind of love. Everyone who’d loved him had let him down. And he’d do the same.

He returned to the task, scrubbing at the pans. He’d best remember what life had taught him and not let a sentimental song give him hope. Nothing had changed. He must take a solitary path.

A touch on his shoulder made him jump.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Addie’s gaze scanned the spotless kitchen. “Looks like my timing’s perfect.”

“I told you—if you cook, I’ll clean up.” He patted his abdomen. “I got the best part of the deal.”

She smiled. Charles reveled in the beauty of that smile.

“Care for a cup of coffee?”

“Sounds good.” He dried his hands on a towel. “I heard you singing. My mother used to sing that song.” He cleared his throat, trying to disguise how much it had meant to him. “Reminded me of the happy times she tried to give Sam and me.”

She laid a gentle hand alongside his jaw. “I’m glad.”

Her touch healed like a balm, releasing some of the pain of his childhood throbbing anew in him. He covered her hand with his. For an instant, he felt whole, reborn, but then he dropped her hand and moved away from her touch.

Adelaide stepped back, giving Charles wide berth. Once again he’d put up an invisible wall between them, still running away from what they could have together. But he wasn’t ready, and she wouldn’t push him. She couldn’t force love. If it had to be forced, it wasn’t love.

Besides, Emma brought enough joy to her life—if Adelaide got to keep her. For that to happen, she had to get to the truth.

Had the sheriff learned anything at the Drummond farm? She wanted to get Charles’s thoughts on the murder. “Why do you suppose Ed Drummond killed his mother-in-law? Do you think he just lost his temper, killed her in a fit of rage?”

“If he killed her,” he said, raising a brow, “he planned it. A garrote isn’t something you just happen to have. She must have posed a threat, at least in Drummond’s mind.”

“Mrs. Hartman? I can’t see…” Her hand flew to her mouth. “Unless she knew Ed beats Frances and threatened to expose him.”

He shrugged. “People are murdered for less.”

“Your job hasn’t made you an admirer of mankind.”

“Some would say it’s made me callous.”

She shook her head. “You may try to be, but you have a kind heart. I see that with Ranger, with Emma, with me.” She took another sip of her coffee. “In the short time you’ve lived here, you’ve earned the respect of the town fathers.”

His brows lifted in surprise. “Why do you say that?”

“Your work with the selection committee, the way the committee agreed with your suggestion to place Emma in my home, Sheriff Rogers’s obvious regard.”

He smiled. “Placing Emma in your home was an easy decision. I knew you’d take excellent care of any child.”

Adelaide reached across the table and put her hand on his arm. “It appears you and I respect one another.”

He laid his palm over her hand. “I guess we do.”

She pulled out the columns tucked into her purse. “I wrote two columns on women’s suffrage.”

“Let me see them,” he said in a weary tone.

Adelaide handed them over. “I own the paper, too, and I want the first of these to run in the next edition.”

Charles glanced at the sheaf in his hand. “Then I don’t have much choice, do I?”

“I’d hoped you’d want to support the women in this community, that you’d want to support me.”

“I do support you.”

In many ways he did, but not in the most vital ones.

He read the pages in his hand and lifted his gaze. “You sound very convincing.” He studied her. “You’re determined to teach women to be courageous, to expand their sphere of influence, their focus, no matter the cost. Are you sure you’re ready to take such a risk?”

That question weighed on her. “Yes, my mind is made up.”

“I hope you’re prepared for the consequences.”

A shrill scream brought them to their feet and sent them racing to Emma’s bedroom. Adelaide’s heart pounded in her chest. Had Ed gotten into the house?

They found Emma cowering under the covers, quaking. Weak-kneed with relief, Adelaide sank onto the bed and gathered the weeping child in her arms. Charles sat beside them.

“He was here!” Emma wailed.

“Who?” Emma didn’t say who lived in her nightmare, but Adelaide never doubted the man’s identity. “It’s only a dream,” she crooned, rocking the little girl on her lap. “You’re fine.”

Charles put his arms around Adelaide, around them both. Soon Emma quieted and Adelaide sang the lullaby she had earlier. This time Charles joined in, his deep baritone blending with the melody. Emma fell back to sleep.

Nestled in the comfort of Charles’s arms, Adelaide let her song trail off to a soft hum, and then looked at Charles. A sense of oneness passed between them. Charles cared for Emma, cared about her, too, or he wouldn’t be here this evening.

Filled with contentment, she gently laid the sleeping child on the bed. Pulling up the covers, she kissed Emma’s soft cheek. Then she and Charles slipped out of the room.

I can picture us doing that with our own children.

Suddenly, aware he stood behind her, his breath warm against her neck, she turned toward him.

He raised a hand to cradle her chin. The waiting was unbearable, though surely only a few seconds passed while she wondered would he?

And then he lowered his mouth to hers, the feel of his lips gentle and sweet. Her breath caught and she swayed toward him, clinging to his lapels for support. She was taking a huge risk, but her heart refused to listen. His kiss dismissed every coherent thought in her muddled brain. Her eyelids drifted shut, her heart insisting she belonged here.

He pulled away and lifted his palm to her face.

“You pretended to want a meal, but I suspect you came because you were worried. Thank you for watching Emma and me.”

“Don’t forget to lock up,” he said, tucking an arm around her.

They walked downstairs together. At the door he gave her a hug, then slipped out. Leaning against the frame, Adelaide closed her eyes, remembering his scent, the roughness of his jaw under her palm, the timbre of his voice.

Her pulse skipped a beat.

Was it possible? Did Charles love her?

Or was he just as scared as she was by what had happened?

Adelaide woke with a start. Something, some noise had awakened her. Slipping from her bed, she tiptoed to the window and pulled back the curtain. The street was empty. In the moonlight, everything looked peaceful, but a nudge of disquiet sent her to her bedroom door.

She turned the knob, opened it a crack and listened. She didn’t hear anything, but she slipped out the door, and padded down the hall. Snuggled under the covers, Emma slept peacefully.

Tension fell from her shoulders as Adelaide headed back to bed. Whatever she’d heard—a tree branch in a strong gust of wind, perhaps—everything looked in order. She drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Fifteen

T
he next morning, Adelaide came down the stairs with Emma on her heels, complaining about school.

“You have to go, Emma.” Adelaide said automatically. “Did you remember your lunch bucket?”

Emma liked recess and her teacher, but she hadn’t yet caught up with her work. Maybe if she—

The thought stuttered to a halt, and so did Adelaide. Emma collided into her back.

“Emma, go back upstairs.”

“But—”

“Do as I say.”

After making sure Emma obeyed, Adelaide crept down the remainder of the stairway. Seeing no one, she exhaled the breath she’d been holding. Pulse hammering, her gaze darted about the showroom.

Unwound from bolts, pastel ribbons dangled from mirrors and cabinets. Smashed silk flowers and papier-mâché fruit were hurled around the shop. On the floor, fabric lay in twisted heaps. Hats, with crushed crowns and bent brims, settled where they’d been flung.

She moved from behind the counter and stumbled through the debris, picking up a hat. “Oh, no.” The crown had been slit.

The culprit had dumped her desk drawer, along with the bigger drawers holding supplies, but strangely had not tinkered with the cash register. She picked her way to the front of the shop, noting a shattered pane and jagged pieces of glass scattered on the floor. Someone had reached through the opening and unlocked the door. Without thinking, Adelaide turned the lock, though the broken pane made the gesture meaningless.

The noise she’d heard last night must have been breaking glass or perhaps the bell. No, the bell had been torn from its moorings.

A thought slammed into her. A thought so unwelcome she shook her head, trying to shake it loose, but it stuck tighter than flypaper to a shoe.

Only one person could have done this. Ed Drummond.

If I’d come down to investigate, what would have happened then?

He could easily have come up to her living quarters, could have plucked Emma from her bed.

Perspiration broke out on her forehead. Nausea washed over her. She lunged for the back door and deposited her breakfast in the flowerbed, then leaned against the brick, wiping a shaky hand over her mouth.

When her heartbeat slowed, she trudged to the well and primed it, then pumped the handle until water splattered at her feet. She filled her cupped hands with water and rinsed her mouth and face, removing every sign of her weakness.

Dropping to her knees, she turned to the One who controlled the universe. “Thank you, Father, for your protection. Please, let no harm come to Frances, Emma and William. Give me wisdom, Lord, and courage.”

Feeling stronger, she rose and dashed inside. She found Emma sitting on her bed, her face pale. “What’s wrong, Miss Adelaide?”

“Someone broke the glass in the door last night. Probably boys looking for excitement, but at first it worried me. I’ll get it fixed.” She patted Emma’s knee. “Better hurry or you’ll be late.”

Avoiding the usual way out, Adelaide led Emma through the kitchen and onto the open-air landing at the top of the back stairs. By keeping up a rush of conversation all the way to school, she avoided any questions from Emma. Before school let out for the day, she’d have order restored.

After settling Emma in her classroom, Adelaide took the teacher aside. Though she doubted Ed would grab Emma in broad daylight in a schoolyard full of children, she asked the teacher to keep a close eye on Emma during recess.

The terror she’d experienced earlier turned to anger. The worst kind of coward, Ed Drummond preyed on women and children. How could Frances stay with him? After the sheriff’s visit yesterday, hadn’t she suspected Ed of killing her mother?

Adelaide’s steps slowed. She hadn’t walked in Frances’s shoes, hadn’t known the fear that could control and subdue the spirit. Like Charles’s mother, Frances had few options. She must be terrified for her own life or for the lives of the children.

Down the way, Charles crossed the street, his stride purposeful. On the boardwalk in front of her shop, he stopped.

“What’s this?” He pivoted toward her. “Addie, what happened? How did this pane of glass get broken?”

Adelaide pulled the key out of her purse and unlocked the door. “Ed Drummond broke in last night.”

“Ed Drummond was here, in your shop?” He followed her inside. “It looks like a cyclone struck. Are you and Emma all right?”

Before she could answer, he pulled her into his arms. The magnitude of what had happened struck full force and she laid her cheek against the rough fabric of his coat.

“He didn’t come upstairs?”

Charles believed Ed Drummond had done this.

“No.” Relieved to have him here, to share the burden hanging heavy on her, tension eased from her body. “Last night a noise awakened me, but when I checked around upstairs, nothing looked amiss. I didn’t come down here.”

“Thank God.” He picked up one of the damaged hats, poking a finger through the slit in the crown. “This is a warning, Addie.” He dropped the hat onto a chair and laid his hands on her shoulders. “The sheriff needs to see this. Will you be okay while I’m gone?”

“Ed Drummond wouldn’t bother me in broad daylight. Cowards prefer the dark.”

“If he feels cornered, he might do anything. Now stay put until I get back.” He gave a lopsided grin. “No cleaning until after the sheriff has investigated.”

He’d tried to lighten the mood by teasing her. Adelaide forced the corners of her mouth up. “You’d better hurry, then. I won’t be able to resist the urge for long.”

Sheriff Rogers poked around and admitted he couldn’t find any evidence of who had vandalized the shop, so she and Charles went after the mess like pigs after slop. Well, at least Adelaide tackled the task in an orderly fashion while Charles roamed about the showroom, accomplishing little.