Whirlwind (15 page)

Encouraged by her praise, Arthur stayed interested in the activity for quite a while. When his energy flagged, Daniel carried him back to his nanny. He sat down, stretched out his legs, and grinned. “I do believe that was a record for my son. He’s usually bored with something after three or four minutes.”

Miss Fairweather took a nappy from her valise and began changing Arthur. “Children long for their parents’ attention. Your son is blessed that you make time for him.”

Daniel absently toyed with his son’s baby curls as Arthur continued to lie on the grass. “It’s why I’m going to Texas. Business had me traveling a good portion of the time. When Henrietta was alive, Arthur had her; with her gone, I need to be with him.”

Miss Fairweather didn’t say anything for a moment. She looked at him, her gaze radiating unmistakable compassion. “My condolences on your loss.” Her eyes grew misty. “A son cannot take the place of a missing spouse, but I hope that in the years to come, he’ll bring you sweet memories of her. I do know that you’ll be a wonderful father to him.”

All the women he’d known were cool and proper. Miss Fairweather didn’t pretend to have their reserve, and her lack of artifice made the honesty of her words count for full measure. “Thank you.” He didn’t want to spoil the moment by saying anything more.

Just off to his left, the Statue of Liberty rose in her majesty—a symbol of hope for a better life. Looking at her, then looking back at Miss Fairweather, hope flourished within him.

He’d fill Arthur’s life with love and safety. Just as he’d shown him how to kick a ball, he’d teach him all of the skills a boy wanted and a man needed. With Miss Fairweather’s imagination and big heart, Arthur’s life would be saturated with fun and tenderness. Working together, they’d ensure Arthur lacked nothing.

Arthur plopped into Daniel’s lap and stuck out his arms. Stubby fingers opening and closing like winking stars, he said, “Buddy peassss.”

“Here you are.” She opened her bag, pulled out Buddy, and gave him to Arthur.

“Coo!”

“You’re very welcome.”

She pulled a rabbit out of her bag.
The realization thoroughly entertained Daniel. He sat and watched as she picked up her crochet—just as she’d picked up the unraveled mess of his son’s world and with careful attention and a deft hand brought back order. “My son’s not the only one who ought to thank you. I should, too—for all you’ve done.”
And all you’ll do in the future.

“It’s been my pleasure.” The crochet hook continued to move, but not with smooth, agile swoops and twirls. Biting her lip, she worked more furiously, then abruptly shoved everything back into her bag with a silent sigh. “You’ve no notion how relieved I am to stay with Arthur. At the outset, I promised myself that I’d enjoy him for the voyage and let go at the end. All too soon, I knew I’d set myself up for heartache. He’s such a loveable child.” Tears glossed Miss Fairweather’s eyes.

Wariness set in. “Why are you distressed if you’re glad to continue on as Arthur’s nanny?”

“I am. Glad, that is. Truly. It’s just that I miss my girls. They really weren’t mine, I know. But after four years of doting over them, teaching them, and tucking them in at night, Audrey and Fiona . . .” Her voice grew too thick with tears for her to say anything more.

“Ahhh. I see.” She fell in love with Arthur in a matter of days. How much more devoted must she be after years with those girls? If anything, that made her all the more essential for his son. He waited a moment. “How old are they?”

“Audrey’s eight and Fee’s just six.” She blotted away her tears and steeled herself with a deep breath. “I know where they’ve gone to school. Yesterday I wrote to them and mailed the letters from here. Since I could give them a return address, they’ll be able to write back.” She let out a teary little laugh. “Audrey will write; Fee will send pictures. And I wrote during Arthur’s naptime. I don’t want you to think I’d ever—”

“When Arthur is awake, you couldn’t possibly sit down long enough to pick up a pen, let alone write your name. As he learns to occupy himself, though, there’s nothing wrong with you writing the girls while you mind my son. I’d be a sorry excuse for a man if I asked you to tend my son with diligence and affection, yet expected you to forsake those same tender emotions you’ve developed over the years for those girls. In fact, since Arthur is an only child, I would hope you’d make every effort to seek out playmates for him. His little world should be full of friends.”

“Little friends,” she echoed in agreement.

Something about the brave tilt to her shoulders as she set aside her handkerchief tugged at Daniel’s heart. Miss Fairweather ached to hold “her” girls, yet she showed the courage to venture forth and risk her heart once again—all for the sake of his son.

Arthur crawled out of his lap and toddled over to her. Pressing Buddy’s ear to his nanny’s cheek, he exclaimed, “Mmm-ah! Aw bear.”

“All better,” she agreed. Setting aside her obvious heartache over the girls, Miss Fairweather kissed both Arthur and Buddy.

Then Frank and Isabelle returned. Frank cleared his throat. “I spoke to General Burns, the deputy here. It turns out Scotland Yard sent a transatlantic telegram. They think a murderer sailed away on the
Opportunity
.”

Isabelle shuddered. “That means there might have been a murderer right next to us that whole voyage!”

Frank continued. “Any tall, dark-haired man on our ship who’s between twenty and forty has to be cleared.”

Outrage transformed Miss Fairweather’s features. “Whatever happened to the American notion of innocent until proven guilty?”

“We’re not processed yet.” Daniel caressed Arthur’s downy hair. “The agreement between Britain and America obligates them to hold us until the Crown releases us.”

“How long is it going to take?”

Daniel wondered that himself. “No telling. These delays are trying my patience.”

Isabelle leaned forward. “They mentioned that we need to be careful about our valuables.” She touched her throat. “Mama’s locket is safe. Millie, maybe you’d better take off Grandma’s cameo and hide your bracelet beneath your cuff. Frank, do you suppose we ought to take the money from our sewing baskets and have you keep it?”

“No.” Frank shook his head. “Divided up, it’s safer than if we keep it in one place.” He patted his wife’s hand. “The twopence is what counts the most.”

A twopence? Daniel kept his expression neutral, but it took discipline. If a twopence was the largest denomination of money they had . . .

Frank smiled at him. “The traditional twopence Isabelle wore in her shoe for our wedding is special.” He took it out of his inner jacket pocket. “It’s the one her mother and grandmother carried, as well. Her grandfather etched this cross on it, and we’re saving it for the next generation.”

“And Millie,” Isabelle tacked on. “She’ll use it when she’s a bride, too!”

Daniel looked at Millicent. It took no imagination to picture Millicent Fairweather as a bride.
Mine.

The primal reaction shot through Daniel’s mind so savagely, he froze. He’d buried his wife nine months ago and decided at that time never to marry again. He had a son, and that was good enough—or so he thought back then.

Mine.
The word Arthur shouted possessively about his little toys suddenly became his father’s.

Arthur already wiggled his way into Miss Fairweather’s heart. What would it take for me to court her into opening her heart to me? I can’t deny the attraction. It’s been there from the start.
He smiled.
But it’s not about what I’d want in a wife. The issue is if I’m able to be what God would require of a husband.

I’m not going to rush into this,
he promised himself.
Whirlwind romances are for fools.

Twelve

A
s night fell, Daniel and Frank went to the men’s dormitory. Frank looked about. “Good thing Millie’s with Isabelle. Being in a place like this is bound to bring back bad memories.”

“I gathered they’d attended an academy. How old were they?”

“Isabelle was barely ten. Millie’s four years younger.”

“She was only six?”
She was nothing more than a baby!
“Who could send away their flesh and blood like that?”

“Their uncle. According to my wife, a distant relative wanted Millie. Millie begged for her to take them both and threw quite the tantrum when she refused. As a result, both girls went to the academy.” Frank sighed. “Isabelle still holds herself to blame. Trying to console Millie, Isabelle promised her they’d always stay together. She never imagined her pledge would cause Millie to forsake the opportunity for a normal life.”

“Adults ought never have placed the girls in such straits.”

Frank shook his head. “It got worse. By the time Isabelle turned fifteen, their uncle had squandered the family funds. Isabelle found a school that would allow her to work in exchange for keeping Millie as a student. It was her way of honoring her promise.”

“Your wife is to be commended.”

His praise garnered a smile. “Isabelle’s a remarkable woman. She’s fretting over our being apart and Arthur’s not being with you.”

“God willing, we’ll all be on a train together tomorrow.” He grimaced. “Those little girls Miss Fairweather cared for—they’re about the same ages she and Isabelle were.”

“Exactly. It’s stirred up nightmares for Millie and my wife, as well.”

A man entered the dorm with another gentleman who held a sheet of paper. “Attention. I’m Tilson, superintendent of the watch. If I call your name, you’re to line up.”

Daniel could see the paper was a
wanted
poster. “If I don’t miss my guess, that chap is a representative of the Crown. If he releases us, we could get out of here.”

Daniel and Frank’s names were called along with other young, dark-haired Englishmen. After walking down the line to look at them, the two men in charge held a quick conversation. Tilson then turned to the men. “You’ve all been cleared. First thing in the morning, you’ll be permitted to leave.”

Grinning like simpletons, the other men walked back to their bunks. Frank grabbed Daniel’s arm. “Did you read that poster? See who was murdered?”

“Eber-something.”

Grim as could be, Frank said, “Eberhardt. The man whose daughters Millicent minded.”

“Are you sure?” Daniel didn’t wait for a reply. “Do you know who the closest family is to the girls?”

“There is none. None whatsoever.”

“Then a guardian. Did Millicent ever mention who the girls’ guardian would be?”

“I don’t know if one was ever appointed.” Frank grasped Daniel’s arm. “I’d rather not tell Millie anything about Mr. Eberhardt’s death. She’ll be distraught. Until I can ascertain what’s to become of them . . .”

Daniel demanded, “How will you do so?”

“The butler. I can write the school, too. Millie mentioned the academy the girls were taken to. Surely between the two contacts . . .”

Superintendent of the Watch Tilson was walking by. Daniel strode toward him and Tilson stopped. “Did you need something?”

Pointing at the poster, Frank said, “We saw that. Eberhardt was a widower with two small daughters. There is no other family.”

Tilson frowned. “What a tragedy for the girls.”

“I know the telegraph here on the island must be closed for the night, but this is an emergency. I must send telegrams at once to ensure the children are looked after.” Daniel gave the officer a level gaze. “I mean no slur on your integrity when I state that cost is not a consideration.”

Later, as they walked back from an office after having sent telegrams, Daniel said, “At least now the academy and the butler know how to get in touch with us.”

Frank stopped. “I’ll ask you to give me your word that you won’t say anything about this yet.”

“Of course not. There’s no use putting Miss Fairweather through needless anguish.”

“Isabelle, either. You see, Mr. Eberhardt didn’t come home for months or even a year or more at a time. On Millie’s day off she’d often bring the girls with her, and we’d go on a picnic or out for a little fun. My wife’s exceptionally fond of little Audrey and Fee. That’s why I’m asking for a gentleman’s promise to shelter both Millie and Isabelle from the truth until we can assure them of the girls’ safety and well-being.”

“You have my word, Frank. I’ll do anything I can for them.”

Back at their bunks, Daniel opened his Bible. Frank cleared his throat. “I had Isabelle keep our Bible with her. Do you mind reading aloud?”

“Not at all. I’m reading John. Chapter three . . .” He began reading of the time when Nicodemus went to Christ and was puzzled when Jesus said he must be born again. Upon finishing the chapter, Daniel looked up.

Frank lay across his cot, his head propped up on one hand. “Poor Nicodemus. The simplicity of Christ’s message confused him.”

“In the end, it was Nicodemus who gathered the costly spices for the Savior’s burial.”

“Yeah. It took time, but I guess he finally did accept the truth.” Frank swung around and sat up. “That verse about the wind? Once, when my mother flummoxed my father, he quoted the beginning of that verse and likened women to wind.”

Daniel opened the Bible again and read, “ ‘The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth.’ ”

“Yes, that’s it. Come to think of it, Isabelle’s that way, too. She refreshes and cools me, and yet I can’t ever be quite sure what she’s thinking or why she does things.”

“If Isabelle’s like a wind, then Millicent is a whirlwind.”

Crooking a brow, Frank said, “Oh?”

“She’s the more lively of the two.” Daniel set aside his Bible.

All around them, men found ways to fill their spare time. Playing cards, reading, laughing at coarse jokes; but a pocket of stillness formed between Frank and him. Frank gave him a long, steady look. “I’ll ask you straight out: Are you starting to have feelings for Millie?”

I opened the door. I had to expect him to ask. Had he not, I wouldn’t respect him. Until Millicent marries, he’s her protector.
Daniel’s chin rose a notch. “It’s my intent to pray about it. About her. I didn’t expect to marry again, but I didn’t consider that just as a man can be spiritually reborn, he can also experience a second love life. I’m not going to rush into anything. It’s too early to declare any intentions other than to simply say that I’m seeking God’s will.”