Ruthie glanced up, her eyes brimming with tears. “I fell and tore my beautiful gown. Now I look a fright.” She sniffed, then pouted. “Everyone will laugh at me. And Papa will never allow us out of his sight again.”
“That's not true. Stand up. I'll brush off the dirt.”
When she finished, Charlotte smiled. “There. That's better.” She glanced around for Tim but didn't see him. “Where's your brother?”
“I don't know. I'm afraid I lost track of him when I took a tumble.”
“Don't fret. I shall find him. You stay here, please.” Charlotte unpinned her hat and handed it to Ruthie. “I don't want to lose this. It's not mine.”
As Charlotte approached the edge of the boulders extending into the roiling waters, she paused. Tim was far below, at the end of a trail of hops, skips, and jumps. Stranded.
“I'm coming to get you, Tim!” But the low howl of the wind swallowed her words once again. The boy didn't even glance over his narrow shoulder. “Tim!”
He looked so tiny on that small rock separated from the other boulders by at least a yard. The waves crashed against the stone and rose in a spray to slap the boy. Standing far above, Charlotte tried to find a way down to him. If she waited much longer the breakers would whip up and possibly wash him away. Her heart slammed so hard she felt it could burst through her blouse.
Lord, if You're up there in Your heavenly kingdom, please look down and help me. I can't save Tim by myself. And there's no one else around
.
The professor would help, but by the time she struggled back over the rocks, Tim might already be swept off the boulder. She swallowed hard and started climbing down the pile of rocks. Step by step she descended, jamming her foot into any crevice that seemed solid. Slowly she lowered herself, scraping her hands and fingernails. Her hair pulled from her carefully coifed pompadour and swirled around her face as the wind increased. She glanced up. Yellow-white lightning streaked the sky as dark as an inkblot. Thunder boomed.
As she drew closer to the ocean, she heard Tim's sobs and cries for help. She turned her head. He was looking toward shore. Waves with white caps broke all around him.
“Stay where you are, Tim! I'll be right there.”
Once she reached the lowest boulder on the water's edge she hurried toward the chain of rocks. She'd have to step across several to get to Tim. Slimy seaweed coated the surface and clung to the cracks. The angry waters broke over them and then engulfed them. She couldn't see where to step.
“Help me, Miss Hale! I'm going to drown.”
Spurred on by Tim's panic, Charlotte stretched her leg to the first rock and pushed herself ahead. She teetered on the edge, barely an inch from the water, but she heaved herself forward and regained her balance. She tried another giant step and made it. “I'm coming, Tim!”
But then the leather soles of her shoes slipped on the seaweed, and she collapsed to her knees. Pain reverberated through her body and stole her breath. Then a powerful wave hit her in the face and pushed ice-cold water over her. But she gripped the rock and held on. She gasped for several seconds before she forced herself to her feet. Her legs wobbled.
Bent nearly in half, she stepped to the next rock, and then the next. Looking up, she saw Tim's hand reach toward her. The space between them seemed so far. But she leaned forward, grabbed his hands, and helped him to leap. They embraced for a long moment.
“All right, Tim,” she said. “Off with you, now. You can make it. You've made it past the worst.”
He leaped to the next rock and looked back at her. “Come on, Miss Hale.”
It wasn't quite as easy in high-heeled shoes and a long skirt, as he'd made it seem.
Glancing over her shoulder she saw a wall of water surging toward her. She turned toward Tim but knew she'd never make it back before the waves pounded her. And possibly Tim. “
Go
, Tim!”
Oh Lord, please help me
. She tried to jump to the next rock, but mid-leap the breakers knocked her down and sucked her under. Salty water poured down her throat and she sputtered and coughed while she thrashed around, trying to find the surface. The undertow tossed her like a piece of driftwood, ramming her head against the rocks.
I'm going to die
, she thought distantly.
I'm going to drown. God, please help me
. She fought against the force of nature and gasped until her strength ebbed. Her lungs kept filling with water, and she kept coughing it out each time she surfaced, only to be dragged down again. How much longer could she fight when she had no vigor left? Yet she wanted to live.
Please, Lord. Please
.
Then she felt someone grab hold of her arm and pull her from the roiling waters. To safety. She leaned into a damp jacket and chest, coughing up seawater. Tears streamed down her already wet face.
She looked up. “Daniel.”
“Charlotte,” he returned tenderly. Professor Wilmont picked her up, moved several paces higher, and then carefully sat down, holding her close.
“Thank you for saving my life,” she said through chattering teeth.
“Thank you for saving my son. He wouldn't have gotten back without you.” The boy edged into her line of vision, staring at her with wide eyes.
She smiled and rested her head against Daniel's chest, not caring how inappropriate it might be. “IâI've never been so close to death before. I was so frightened.”
“Are you alright, Miss Hale?” Ruthie asked as she scrambled over the rocks toward the trio. Tim buried his head in his father's shoulder.
“I shall be fine in a minute or two.”
The professor didn't make a move to leave. “I thank the Lord I got here in time. The weather looked threatening and the three of you weren't back, so I had to search for you. I didn't expect to find you in such danger.”
Lightning split the blue-black sky and another thunderclap sounded. Daniel rose, with Charlotte still in his arms. “Come, children. I'm afraid it's time to take our leave from the rest of the festivities.”
AS SOON AS Charlotte said good night to the children that evening, she returned to her own room, read her Bible for a while, and then reached for the stack of Professor Wilmont's newspaper columns. She'd already sorted them into topics. Not all pertained to politics as Mr. Phifer indicated. Many spoke of God's love and faithfulness and living the Christian life in harmony with the Lord's plan and purpose. Then she came across one with the word
truth
in bold print. Her eyes skimmed the page, but she couldn't pull her gaze away.
The Lord Jesus Christ claimed He is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. Lying is antithetical to God, to His truth, and to our Christian calling. “That by two immutable things, in which it was impossible for God to lie, we might have a strong consolation, who have fled for refuge to lay hold upon the hope set before us” (Hebrews 6:18). To follow in His footsteps we must not lie either, even when it's difficult to be honest with others or with ourselves. Falling into the sin of dishonesty will destroy our relationship to the Lord and also to the people we associate with in our daily lives. Honesty is a reflection of one's inner character. A liar must hide his lies, a deception that's often not easy.
Charlotte laid the paper down, leaned back in her overstuffed chair, and closed her eyes.
Lord, I'm just beginning to know You, and already I am failing. I understand why You'd be displeased with me when I can't even manage to tell the truth. But Lord, I have my reasons and they're good ones
. She couldn't allow her family to starve, now could she? Yet somehow she didn't feel justified. Nagging doubts corroded into her stomach like acid. If God understood her predicament and approved of her actions, then why didn't she feel some sense of peace?
Charlotte read one more verse. Proverbs 11:3, “The integrity of the upright shall guide them: but the perverseness of transgressors shall destroy them.” Groaning, she put the columns back on the chest of drawers and slid into bed.
Lord, please show me what to do
.
THE FOLLOWING EVENING, as the grandfather clock in the foyer struck seven, the children started upstairs to dress for the college band concert. Charlotte followed. Still weary from the trauma of the night before, she yearned for the comfort of her feather bed and light quilt, not an evening out. They were halfway up the staircase when the doorbell rang.
Charlotte stopped and looked around. She waited while Mr. Grimes answered the door in his stiff, formal manner befitting an important staff member.
The butler stepped aside for a beautiful, curvaceous young lady of medium height with the air of a
grande dame
. She tossed back platinum blond hair topped with a plumed hat that tied beneath her chin with gauzy streamers. The gaze from her light blue eyes passed over the butler and settled on Charlotte as she descended to the foyer. The girl appraised her with a cool haughtiness before she turned back to the butler.
“I'm here to see Professor Wilmont.” The girl strutted into the foyer, silk skirts rustling. “My name is Miss Melissa LeBeau. Will you tell him I'm here?”
Charlotte's heart fluttered. This was Missy, the girl Mr. Phifer hoped would charm Professor Wilmont and bring about his destruction. She was the student talking to the professor on the corner of Cove Road the other day. She'd seen them!
Her heart skipped a beat. Could Mr. Phifer possibly be correct about a relationship between Missy and the professor? How could an intelligent man like the professor be hoodwinked by such an overblown and rather vulgar beauty?
Charlotte cleared her throat. She couldn't let an opportunity to question the girl go by, even if ladies weren't interested in exchanging pleasantries with servants. Perhaps a few friendly words would encourage Missy to reveal something pertinent. The quicker she learned the truth about the so-called affair between this young woman and Daniel Wilmont, the sooner she could return to the safety of home.
“How do you do, Miss LeBeau? I'm Charlotte Hale, the children's governess.”
Missy gave her a curt nod.
“Are you one of Professor Wilmont's students?” Charlotte broadened her smile, hoping to put her at ease.
“Yes, I am.” Missy shifted from one high-heeled shoe to the other and stared at the staircase as if her concentration would conjure up the professor.
“I imagine he's a splendid teacher.”
Missy lowered her chin and looked up through glittering eyes. “Yes, he is. In fact, he's my favorite teacher ever. He's kind and caringâand uncommonly handsome.” Surprisingly, Missy giggled, ruining her facade of sophistication and betraying her young age. She couldn't be much more than eighteen. “You're so fortunate to work with him every day.”
She gave the girl an understanding smile. “Are you a summer student, Miss LeBeau?”
“Yes, I am.”
“What are you studying?” If she kept her chattering, maybe she'd open up.
“I'm only taking Professor Wilmont's New Testament course.” Missy sparked like a bonfire. “I do so enjoy his class. He makes the Bible come alive. He's such a remarkable man. He's interested in all his students, but he's taken a personal interest in me.” She giggled again and then flashed a smug smile, displaying startlingly white teeth.
“How fortunate for you,” Charlotte murmured. She could never believe the professor would fall for such a young woman who dabbed her cheeks with rouge.
Missy's full lips tilted upward. “He's so charming.”
Charlotte chuckled inwardly at Missy's inappropriate comment. “I think you have a crush on him, Miss LeBeau,” Charlotte teased, watching for a reaction.
The girl angled her head. “Well, why not? He's a widower and I'm unattached.”
Charlotte's jaw dropped open. She slammed it shut and eased closer. “Has he truly taken a romantic interest in you?” Her voice cracked. Perspiration seeped from her palms. This was exactly what Mr. Phifer wanted to know.
“Perhaps.” Missy's eyes gleamed like blue marbles.
Charlotte wagered the girl was capable of anything and used to getting whatever she wanted whenever she wanted it. A rich socialite, spoiled and pampered.
The professor strode into the hallway. “Good evening, Miss LeBeau. Please follow me to my office.” His features pinched with a sternness Charlotte hadn't seen before. She trailed behind by a few paces to listen in.
“We had an appointment at the Student Center tonight at six thirty,” Daniel said. “I waited for half an hour, but you never came.”
“I'm so sorry,” Missy said with an insincere pout. “I was unavoidably detained, so I decided to come here instead. Is it a terrible inconvenience?” She leaned forward and plucked a piece of lint from his shirt and reached to straighten his tie. He took a giant step backward as his face flushed.
“There, that's better,” she cooed, unperturbed.
Daniel glanced to the doorway and spotted Charlotte. “I'd like Miss Hale to sit with us.”
“I'd be glad to,” Charlotte said, pleased that he would ask.
But Missy shook her head. “No. I prefer to talk to you in private, Professor.”
He hesitated. “Well, as you wish. But Miss Hale, would you stay close byâin case we need you?”
“Of course,” she agreed.
Missy slid gracefully into the study chair with the broken springs. From the foyer, Charlotte watched the surprise on Missy's face as her silk bottom encountered the wayward spring. The girl squirmed then moved to a more comfortable position on the edge of the chair. Charlotte squelched a laugh. The professor took a seat on the opposite side of the desk and leveled a stern gaze at his student.
Perhaps he was feigning annoyance at Missy to hide their romantic involvement. But was he really duplicitous? Charlotte doubted it.
Professor Wilmont tapped a pencil against the glass top of his desk as Missy murmured in a voice low and satin smooth. Charlotte strained to hear the conversation, catching all but a few words.