The Gifted (47 page)

Outside the air carried the feel of rain. Abigail would be very unhappy with her if her elaborate curls drooped. And who knew what would happen to such a frothy dress if rain dampened it? Abigail, who had been trying to instruct her in the worldly rules of proper ladylike behavior, would be bound to tell her a lady didn’t rush out into a storm. For any cause.

A hand grabbed her arm and jerked her out of the light spilling from the door back against the side of the building.

“Shh,” a voice hissed in her ear. “Dr. Hargrove sees me, I’ll get sent packing.”

“Abigail!” Jessamine was unable to see the girl clearly in the shadows, but she didn’t need to see her face to know something was wrong. “Whatever is the matter? Have I done something wrong?”

“No, no. But I had to come warn you. So you could warn him.” She stopped and pulled in a shaky breath as she squeezed Jessamine’s arm harder. “I’ve got to try to make sense even if none of it makes sense. But I knew you’d want to help him. Since you love him.”

“Who? Tristan?” She started to lean out to peer around the open door to see if she could see him, but Abigail jerked her back.

“Yes, Tristan. Who else?” Abigail’s whisper came out with force. “Jimmy heard two men talking behind the barn about arranging an accident to befall him.”

“An accident?” Jessamine couldn’t take in the words. Lightning flashed and the garden was filled with gray shadows. Seconds later a jarring boom rattled the windows behind her. The storm had arrived. “You mean to hurt him? Who would want to do that?”

“I don’t know. Jimmy didn’t see their faces or recognize their voices.” Abigail brushed her damp hair back out of her eyes. “He didn’t want me to come tell you. He doesn’t think they meant it. He says the gentlemen here are always going on with this or that foolishness and this is probably only some kind of joke that will do nothing but get us fired if we raise a stink. But your young man getting shot out in the woods was no laughing matter. I think you should warn him whether it turns out to be a real danger to him or not.”

Lightning flashed again and revealed Abigail’s distraught face for just a moment. That even more than her words made Jessamine’s heart begin to pound. “What did they say they were going to do?” She had to know what to tell him.

“Something about an unfortunate accident down by the lake.” Abigail gave Jessamine a little shove back toward the door. “Now go. He can tell Dr. Hargrove. If I get fired, I’ll just get fired.”

Jessamine’s heart was beating so fast she could hardly breathe as she stepped back into the ballroom. The musicians continued to feverishly play their fiddles and guitars as if in hopes of covering up the thunder outside. It seemed to be working, for the dancers who whirled past her were intent on their pleasure and giving little notice to the storm blowing their way.

Her father and the princess swept by. His eyes were on Laura’s face, and he gave absolutely no sign of seeing Jessamine. She jerked her skirts back and worked her way around the edge of the dance floor past those waiting their turn with a partner when the music stopped. Tristan was no longer among them. She scanned the room but couldn’t catch sight of him anywhere. Not among the dancers or the watchers.

The music throbbed in her ears matching the panic growing inside her. Why would he have left the dance with the evening just starting? He had to be there somewhere.

A touch on her arm stopped her. “My dear, what’s wrong? Are you frightened by the storm?” The lady leaned close to speak directly into Jessamine’s ear so she could hear over the music.

“Oh, Mrs. Cleveland, I didn’t notice you there.”

“I know. You were looking quite frantic. No reason to be ashamed though.” The woman smiled at her. “I’ve always thought it shows a healthy respect for nature to be worried when lightning starts flashing, but we should be quite safe inside here. Dr. Hargrove’s hotel is built very sturdily.”

“Oh yea, I’m sure you’re right.” Jessamine looked toward the window as if only just remembering the storm.

Mrs. Cleveland frowned a little. “If not the storm, what has you so concerned?”

“I need to find Tristan.” Jessamine wanted to spill out the whole story Abigail had told her, but if Tristan was actually in danger, she’d already wasted too much time talking.

The lady’s frown grew deeper and Jessamine decided it might not be any more proper in the world to chase after a man than it was in the Shaker village. So she tried to swallow her panic and pretend a calm she didn’t feel as she said, “I had a message to give him from a friend.”

The frown eased out from between Mrs. Cleveland’s eyes, but she kept studying Jessamine as though unsure of whether to believe her or not. “How odd. You wanting to give him a message when he just got a message delivered by one of the servants.” Her eyes sharpened on Jessamine. “To be quite frank I thought the message might be from you.”

Now it was Jessamine’s turn to frown. “Why would you think that? Sister Abi—” Jessamine stopped and bit off Abigail’s name. “I mean my maid told me he plans to propose to Laura this night.”

“So I’ve also been told, but if that is his plan, things are not going very smoothly with Laura dancing with your father and Tristan taking off out the front like he’s on a mission.”

Jessamine looked toward the front. The lake was in front of the hotel.
An unfortunate accident by the lake.
Abigail’s words stabbed through Jessamine’s mind. “Perhaps I can catch him,” she said as she turned away from Mrs. Cleveland.

“Wait, Jessamine.”

The woman tried to hold Jessamine’s arm, but Jessamine pulled away from her. There was no time. Even now, she might be too late. “I’ll explain later,” Jessamine called over her shoulder. She was relieved when the woman didn’t take a step to follow her.

Outside a dash of rain swept across the porch and sprayed Jessamine. She paid it little mind as she rushed down the steps and found the path toward the lake. Lightning crackled through the air and nearly blinded her as the thunder following it was almost instantaneous. Only a fool would be out in this storm. But she couldn’t turn back.

The lightning kept flickering like a lamp buffeted by the wind, its flame never completely extinguished. The thunder rumbled over her head as she braced herself for another ear-shattering boom. The rain began in earnest and she couldn’t see a thing. She knew she had started off on the path to the lake, but grass was under her feet now instead of the sandy path. She stopped and brushed her wet hair back from her face to peer through the rain when the lightning flickered.

A prayer rose up inside her that she mouthed aloud into the rain and wind. “Dear Lord, put my feet on the right path. Help me find him, please. I promise to listen better and not be wayward if only you’ll help me find him in time to warn him.”

She felt a stab of guilt for her prayer. It wasn’t proper to attempt to make bargains with the Eternal Father. He already owned everything, and other than a perfect life, a person had nothing to offer him. And nobody could live a perfect life. Certainly not Jessamine. But then what about King Hezekiah in the Bible who was given more years to live? Or King Solomon who was given wisdom. Perhaps not exactly a deal, but a gift. A gift. That’s what she needed. Just the gift of a point in the right direction.
Please, Lord.

The rain slackened a little even as the wind picked up and blew her skirts and bothersome petticoats against her legs. How was a person supposed to run with all that cloth wrapping around her? She grabbed handfuls of her sodden skirt and the top layer of petticoats and lifted it up so she wouldn’t trip as she took a couple of hesitant steps in what she hoped was the right direction.

The storm was like a live thing poking at her from all sides trying to keep her from catching up with Tristan. She’d been wrong to rush out on her own. She should have grabbed her father off the dance floor and asked for his help, but instead she’d run directly into the storm without proper thought. How many times had Sister Sophrena taken her to task for the very same thing? Not thinking things through. But this time it might be a matter of life and death.

She shut her eyes and prayed with her whole spirit, the way she’d seen some of the Believers in meeting surrendering every bit of themselves to the Lord as they lifted their hands and began to shake. The way Sister Sophrena could do even with no visible sign of shaking as she prayed for Jessamine, but with her spirit open and believing. The way she’d heard her granny and the old preacher talk about how prayers could be when the Holy Spirit took over and made intercession with the Lord in groanings that could not be uttered.

And then whispering through her thoughts was Sister Sophrena’s voice.
Engaged in thy duty, fear no danger.
Was she engaged in her duty or was she so out of step her prayers would never be heard?
Pray believing.
This time it wasn’t Sister Sophrena’s voice in her head. It was Granny’s.
When the way gets dark, that’s when you reach up for the good Lord’s hand. He’ll be there, reaching down for you, showing you the way.

The rain and wind didn’t let up, but the calm came inside her as she began to move forward again. The storm kept attacking her on all sides, but she was no longer trembling. Then as the lightning continued to flicker, she caught sight of the glint of water and a man moving toward it.

“Tristan,” she called, but the wind jerked his name out of the air and carried it in the wrong direction. She couldn’t even be sure the man in front of her was Tristan. But she grabbed up her skirts again and began to run.

Tristan thought he heard a voice, but with the wind he couldn’t tell from where. The wind was rising, pushing against his ears, no doubt fooling him. Jessamine wouldn’t have come out in this storm. She would be far too sensible for that. He should have been too sensible himself. Running out into a crashing thunderstorm with no more that a few scribbled words to lead him.

But what if she was there in the storm waiting for him? His mother would be furious because there was no way he could go back to the dance in his sodden clothes even if he was on a fool’s errand here. If she noticed. She’d seemed very happy in the lawyer’s arms dancing past him. As happy as Laura had looked in Sheldon Brady’s arms. They’d made their deal. He and Laura. A promise that required no romance but that would keep everybody happy. Everybody but him. Even Jessamine had seemed happy enough as she sat by the veranda doors, but then she was not there. Then he had the words on the note stuffed in his pocket.

Meet me at the far end of the lake
. Why would she want to meet by the lake? They had never strolled around the lake together. Why not in the garden?

Something wasn’t right about all this. Something he should have stopped and considered before rushing out in the storm. Just as he had rushed out into the woods a couple of weeks ago. Even if he couldn’t remember the reason why he’d ridden into the woods, the end result had been near disaster.

Wet as it was, the hair raised up off the back of his neck. A feeling he had learned to note in the war. A feeling that had kept him alive on more than one occasion.

In the lightning he caught sight of a figure in a cloak up ahead, the hood pulled up over the woman’s head. He pushed aside his caution and hurried forward. He was almost to the figure in the cloak when he realized it was not a woman. His foreboding was warranted.

“What do you want?” he said, but the man didn’t answer as he threw off the cloak that had been hiding some sort of club. Tristan looked around to see how best to escape the man if he came toward him. He took a step back when someone sprang from behind a tree. Tristan stepped to the side, but he was trapped between them. He did the only thing left to do. He spun on his feet, lowered his head and charged straight at the man behind him. He could hear the other man running toward him.

The club caught him a glancing blow on the back of the head. As he fell, he thought he heard his name on the wind again before he sank into blackness.

31

The storm was moving away. With the lightning dimming to a distant flicker away to the east, the black of the night wrapped around Jessamine like a thick, wet blanket. She slowed her steps until her eyes began to adjust to the darkness and she could once more see the glint of the lake water. All at once two figures emerged from the shadows to attack the man she’d been following. Tristan. She hadn’t found him in time to warn him.