Ask a Shadow to Dance (4 page)

She recognized practically everyone in the room now. They must have been on another deck when she came in before—otherwise, she really had taken a wrong turn and found a new room. She searched the crowd for the Captain. He stood next to the far exit, where he’d been when she went out to get some air—and to get away from Andrew. Why hadn’t she seen the Captain when she came back inside and found all the strange people? He noticed her attempt to gain his attention and came straight away.

“Is there something I might help you with, Mrs. Westmoreland?”

“Yes, Captain, thank you.” Andrew started to protest, but she cut him off. “Please don’t interrupt, Andrew. You know how your father always hated when you did that.” She almost gasped at the fury in his eyes. “Captain, my stepson is curious about docking procedures. I wonder if you might enlighten him.”

He took a long look at Andrew, scowling. They hadn’t gotten along well on the trip, thanks to Andrew’s arrogance and purporting to know everything there was to know about riverboats. Lisette had called upon the Captain before, and prayed now his patience hadn’t run out completely.

His scowl changed to a curious smile. “I would be happy to instruct your stepson in the art of docking a riverboat.” He turned back to her. “It might take a bit of time.”

“That would be splendid, Captain. I knew I could count on you.”

The Captain took Andrew in tow. She would have to send a gift to the Captain once home again. The trip from New Orleans would have been far more unpleasant without his help.

With Andrew safely occupied, for a while at least, she continued the search for Doctor Stewart. All the unfamiliar people had disappeared, along with the doctor and the strange room. She still felt slightly faint, yet completely awake, having no idea where she’d fallen asleep to dream about Doctor Stewart, but she supposed it didn’t matter. He seemed so real, yet impossible—because the lighted bridge was impossible, as well as the lighted buildings along the riverfront.

She decided to go back to the next deck, to see if the dream might return. At the door, she waited while an elderly gentleman with a handlebar moustache opened it for her, then went outside. The landing was empty.

She went up the wide staircase to the third deck and stopped at the railing overlooking the bow, where she’d spoken to Doctor Stewart before. Several couples meandered about the deck now, but there was no sign of the doctor. The riverboat eased around a bend in the river. As expected, there was no sign of any bridge ahead, and the only lighted building in Memphis was the Tennessee Brewery. Aunt Portia had written that the Brewery now had its own generator and left the lights burning after dark.
Beautiful. The dream she’d had of dozens of buildings lighted along the river had been spectacular, especially the pyramid. If she needed proof she’d been dreaming, that amazing sight certainly provided it. With Mr. Edison’s invention of the light globe, it surely wouldn’t be long before the vision became reality—except for the pyramid, of course.

Lisette gazed at the river. It was tranquilizing—almost enough to blot out reality. She stood at the bow of the
Cajun Star
, feeling the vibration of the huge paddlewheel dipping rhythmically into the dark waters of the Mississippi. It would be easy to get lost in the fantasy of being utterly alone, responsible for no one but herself.

She closed her eyes, reliving the ordeal of burying her husband one month ago in New Orleans. A vile man, he had treated her with contempt during the eight years of their marriage. Gathering her possessions, arranging their cartage to Memphis, and fending off Andrew’s disgusting advances and innuendos in the wake of his father’s funeral had made Lisette want to disappear. But Andrew was on this boat, following her to Memphis, where she would face another ordeal. She had no intention of allowing Andrew to stay at the Morgan home.

The wind gusted from the starboard now and didn’t seem nearly as strong or as cold as from the larboard. She had learned the terms from the captain when he’d escorted her on a tour of the
Star
the second day on the river. Two years ago, Mark Twain had published a book about the Mississippi and his experiences as a steamboat pilot. Once she reached Memphis, she would buy a copy and learn more about this amazing waterway.

Andrew stood with the captain on the deck below, arms crossed over his chest, his boredom on display for everyone. Shifting position, he happened to see Lisette watching and gave her such a bitter scowl, she turned away immediately.

A shudder of revulsion squirmed through her. Andrew, exactly like his father, knew nothing of tenderness or compassion, having impressed Lisette as arrogant and self-centered the moment they met. Her opinion of him had not changed during the past eight years, and the indignities he visited upon her hardened her heart to any fake tenderness he might have shown on this trip. She suspected, though, the captain had seen through Andrew’s charade and knew more of his true nature than he’d admitted.

She pulled a lace handkerchief from the sleeve of her dress and dabbed her eyes and cheeks. Crying would not change Andrew’s presence on this boat, her father’s condition or the past. She learned long ago that tears were no weapons against fate. Yellow fever had claimed her mother, then her father’s health and mind. When the vile disease also killed James, she considered it an ironic gift and determined, after forfeiting eight years to misery and grief, to do everything she could to salvage the potential happiness of the future. Once home in Memphis, she would help Aunt Portia care for her father. Somehow, she would find happiness.

She glanced around, hoping no one had witnessed her distress. Across the deck, next to the railing, stood Doctor Stewart. Was it simply a trick of the moon or yet another dream?

She dabbed at her eyes again and moved toward him. He looked directly at her, through her almost, as though he did not see her at all, and headed toward the stern. He couldn’t leave. She had to speak to him. She would ask him to escort her home after the boat docked. Such action was improper for a woman in mourning. Aunt Portia might be mortified by such behavior, but she had to have time to talk to him. Obviously, he was no apparition. She was very much awake and intended to verify everything she remembered about their first encounter. As for the lighted bridge, she would try to gain a logical explanation.

“Doctor Stewart!”

He heard.

“Lisette?” He came immediately. “Where did you go? I looked everywhere for you. You have to tell me where you live. I don’t know your father, and—”

“I’ll tell you everything. We have to—”

Andrew’s angry voice interrupted. He bolted up the stairs toward them, with the captain close behind. “Lisa, we’re docking. You don’t have your things ready. What are you doing out here?”

She could see Andrew was furious about what she’d done. Without looking back at the doctor, she pleaded with him, “I have to get out of here. Will you take me home?” When she turned for his reply, he was gone.

How could he leave without her hearing his footsteps or seeing where he went? There was no good reason for him to leave so abruptly, without saying good-bye, and no way off the deck except by the stairs on the far side. He had to be on the boat somewhere.

She hurried toward the far staircase, but Andrew caught her before she reached the top of the steps.

“What the devil are you doing? Your behavior tonight has been abominable!” He clutched her arm so tightly, she almost cried out in pain, but bit her lip instead, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

His fingers dug into the tender flesh of her upper arm until fresh tears stung her eyes. “You’re hurting me. If you don’t release me this instant—”

“Mr. Westmoreland, I’ll ask you to step away.” The captain’s expression broached no alternatives. In another moment, he would be on Andrew like a hawk on a mouse.

Andrew released her, his lips drawing back over his teeth in a gruesome smile. His tone changed when he spoke to the Captain.

“No need to worry. I was coming for … my step-mother … to tell her it’s time to prepare for docking.” He turned back to her. “Lisa, what must you be thinking? Everyone inside is waiting to tell us good-bye.”

“Thank you, Captain, for your assistance. Sometimes my stepson forgets his own strength.” At home, she would shut Andrew out of her life forever. She clung to that thought; desperate to believe it could be true.

The captain glared at Andrew, clenching one fist repeatedly.

“I need to get my things from my quarters,” she said. “Everything is packed and ready. Captain, would you accompany me, please? Mr. Westmoreland can see to his own baggage.”

“I would consider it a pleasure to escort you, Mrs. Westmoreland.”

“Thank you.”

Andrew didn’t like it, but had no choice in the matter. “Very well. I’ll wait for you on the dock. We’ll go directly home so you can rest.”

“
I
shall go directly home.
You
may go directly to a hotel.” She pronounced the words crisply and with as much venom as she could muster. Andrew strode off across the deck and down the opposite staircase at double his usual pace.

The captain tipped his hat and followed Lisette down the steps.

“Captain, I wonder if you remember a passenger, Doctor David Stewart. I spoke briefly with him earlier. In fact, he was here when you arrived just now.”

“There’s no one on this boat with that name, Ma’am. I would have been alerted to the presence of a doctor. You say you were speaking to him?”

“Yes, but it doesn’t matter. I must have been mistaken about his being a doctor.” She wasn’t, though. Another piece of the puzzle. If she could get home to her father and Aunt Portia, she would somehow make sense of this.

After making sure the Chief Purser had everything well in hand, the captain insisted on escorting Lisette home to Adams Avenue. “Just to be sure you aren’t bothered on the way.”

Aunt Portia met them at the door with a hug for Lisette and copious thanks for the captain. He handed her baggage through the door.

“I appreciate your help and your kind concern more than you could ever know, Sir. Won’t you come in for some refreshments?” Lisette was weary to the point of exhaustion, but social etiquette dictated the invitation.

“No, thank you. I’d best be getting back to the boat now. If you should have any further difficulty with … your
stepson
… I’ll be glad to help in any way I can.”

She knew he was genuinely concerned for her safety. If Andrew had behaved himself on the boat, this offer wouldn’t have been necessary. It was embarrassing to have drawn such attention to
herself while in mourning.

“I’ll remember. Good night, Captain.”

“Ma’am.” He tipped his hat and left.

Only a few seconds passed before she was back in Aunt Portia’s arms.

“Oh, child, I didn’t think you’d ever get here.” Her tears flowed freely down her softly lined face. “I’m sorry about James, and sorry you had to make this long trip, but, praise the Lord, I’m glad to have you home again.”

“I’m glad to be here, Aunt Portia.”

Her aunt hurried to the kitchen and bellowed at the top of her lungs. “Seth! Seth, where are you?”

In just a moment, a tow-headed boy appeared.
“Yessum?”

“Carry Mrs. Westmoreland’s things upstairs to her room—you know, the one we cleaned yesterday.”

“Yessum.” He grabbed what he could and promised to be back for the rest “in two shakes of a coon’s tail.”

“I swear
, that boy will be a hillbilly until the day he dies. Come into the parlor and sit down. I know you must be about to drop with weariness. I swear, I’ve wished a hundred times—no, a thousand that I could have been with you these past six months, having to care for James during his illness and afterward, with no one but that good-for-nothing Andrew there with you. Did he ever lift a hand to help? I know he didn’t. Lord, but I’ve prayed and prayed for you. Let me look at you. You’re tired; I can see that. You need a cup of tea. I’ll—”

“It’s all right, Aunt Portia. I’m here to stay. You don’t have to say and do everything in the next five minutes.”

She grinned sheepishly. “Forgive me, child. I’ve waited so long, so very long—” She gathered Lisette into her arms and sobbed.

Lisette held her, letting her cry until she was spent. Lisette’s tears came just as readily. Until now, she hadn’t realized how intensely glad she was to be home again.

“Portia? Who is it? Portia, where are you?”

Aunt Portia leaned back.
“Oh, dear. I’d hoped to prepare you before— Well, there’s no time for that now.” She dried her eyes on her apron. “In the parlor, Jacob. Come and see who’s here.”

Lisette’s father stopped at the parlor door and peered in, his expression amused, curious, but little more.

Lisette could hardly breathe. Aunt Portia had written about her father’s spells, his failing memory, the weakening of his mind and body since the fever. It was a miracle he still got around as well as he did. Lisette could see in his eyes, in the deep wrinkles which had settled into his face, it was all true, and more. The tightness in her chest proved heartbreak was, indeed, painful.

“Papa, I’m home,” she managed to say, the words catching in her throat.