Head in the Clouds (2 page)

An unseen weight pressed down on Adelaide’s chest until she could scarcely breathe.
No. Please, God. It can’t be.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Proctor.” The woman flexed her fingers slightly, tightening her grip on Henry’s arm. “I’m Caroline Belcher. Henry’s wife.”

Chapter 2

The Bible taught that truth set a person free, but Adelaide had never felt more trapped. She wanted to slap Henry’s face and spit on his shoe. She wanted to strike out at the woman who held the arm of the man who was supposed to be hers. She wanted to weep over her shattered dreams. Yet she did none of those things. After all, the woman had been kind to her, and the boy with the wide eyes didn’t deserve to have his illusions destroyed. One disaster stemming from this meeting was more than enough.

Choking down the bile that burned the back of her throat, Adelaide nudged her lips into a shape she hoped resembled a smile. “It is an honor to meet you, Mrs. Belcher.”

The woman dipped her head in acknowledgment. “Will you be in town long?”

“No. My business concluded earlier than I anticipated. I’ll be taking my leave shortly.”

She wanted to take her leave right then—saddle Sheba and ride off, far and fast. But courtesy demanded she stand her ground and pretend there wasn’t a volcano of emotions erupting inside her.

“We really must be going, Caroline. You know how much clerical work waits for me at home.” The source of her trouble became her rescuer as Henry tugged his family toward the door. Undoubtedly he cared more about protecting himself than her, but she was too glad to see them go to care about his motives.

“Good evening, Miss Proctor.” He failed to meet her eye.

“Good-
bye
, Mr. Belcher.”

The instant the family exited onto the street, Adelaide hoisted her skirts and ran for the stairs. Her empty stomach didn’t matter. The curious hotel guests didn’t matter. The fact that she was still gripping the mangled newspaper in her hand didn’t matter. All she cared about was escape.

When the door to her room clicked shut behind her, she threw herself onto the bed and sobbed. She smothered her anguished moans in the white feather pillow that the hotel maid had plumped so beautifully and cried until it became a soggy mess. Once she ran out of tears, anger took over. First she got mad at the pillow for being so wet and clammy and hurled it across the room. Then she turned her ire onto the unsuspecting mattress, pummeling the ticking with her fists.

How could he abuse her trust like that? He intentionally led her to believe he was unmarried. The cad! She had given up everything for him. Her job. Her friends. Her self-respect. The scoundrel probably had a woman at every train stop between Longview and Abilene. Women to divert him during those long, taxing business trips. Widows. Spinsters. Lonely women who were overly susceptible to his charms. Women easily led astray. Women … like her.

A sorrowful groan vibrated in her chest. How could she have been so foolish? She should have suspected something was amiss when he never spoke of their future in any detail and offered only vague promises that really were no promises at all. Now here she was, nose running, eyes puffy, arms sore from tenderizing a hotel mattress, all over a man she’d never really loved in the first place. To be honest, she didn’t mourn losing
Henry
. She mourned the loss of the dreams he represented. Romance. Family. An arm to lean on and a warm, masculine smile that belonged to her alone. She had bought into his snake oil, believing it to be the cure for what ailed her heart. Yet his restorative turned out to be plain old sugar water—sweet at first but worthless in the end.

Wrung out, she slid off the side of the bed into a limp pile of self-pity. She rested her head against the badly wrinkled coverlet that hung askew over the edge of the bed and turned her recriminations in one final direction.

“Why did you let this happen, Lord?” Her voice, scratchy and weak, wobbled over the question. “You let a man of deceit prey on one of your children. Why didn’t you protect me from him instead of leaving me to flounder around by myself?”

Stung by the injustice of it all, Adelaide hit the mattress a final time, then jabbed her finger at the ceiling. “I prayed about this, God. You know I did. For weeks I asked you to show me what to do about Henry. I petitioned you for wisdom. I pled for guidance. And all I got was silence. How is that supposed to help?”

No answer echoed through the rafters or even whispered to her heart. God didn’t seem to be on speaking terms with her at the moment, and she had no idea why. Yelling at him probably didn’t help matters, but David had ranted often enough in his psalms, so it must be allowable in times of extreme distress. Still, her tirade felt a tad irreverent.

Looking up out of the corners of her eyes, she mumbled a quick apology, then turned around and leaned her back against the bed frame. She exhaled a heavy sigh and drew her knees to her chest, hugging them tight. Her head fell forward as she curled into herself.
Why has God abandoned me?
She knew he never promised his followers a trouble-free life, but he did promise to always be there for them. So why wasn’t he? Why was he silent?

Too weary to ponder the mind of God any longer, Adelaide wrapped her fingers around the bedpost and hoisted herself to her feet. She hobbled over to her trunk and pulled out a clean cotton nightgown and held it to her breast as she wandered toward the window that overlooked the street.

The sky had cleared considerably since her arrival, but one large cloud lingered. White and rimmed with gray, it hovered directly above the saloon across the street, bringing to mind a Bible story she used to teach her students. Of course in the Bible, God’s cloud had hovered over the tabernacle, not a saloon, but still, it was a symbol of his guidance. A tiny flutter stirred in her heart. Could God be trying to tell her that he
was
with her?

Adelaide stared at the cloud, waiting for … something. Some kind of message explaining what her next step should be. But the cloud just hung there, as if suspended on an unseen thread. Hazy, undefined, and completely unhelpful. Adelaide sighed and turned away from the window. She tossed her nightgown onto the bed and sank into the upholstered armchair in the corner, tucking her feet under her the way she used to do as a little girl in her father’s study.

If only she could go back to Cisco and pretend none of this had ever happened. But that was impossible. The school board had already hired her replacement. She would have no means to support herself. Besides, the humiliation would be unbearable. Whispers about her shameful man-chasing behavior would circulate through town, destroying her reputation. No. She couldn’t go back.

Adelaide opened her eyes and stared straight ahead, focused on nothing but the blank slate that was now her future. Willing herself not to panic, she took a deep breath and dug out the logic that had always served her well when handling problems in the classroom. Granted, solving the mystery of where Beth Hansen’s lunch bucket disappeared to every day after recess wasn’t quite on the same level as her current dilemma, but maybe a similar thought process would produce at least a modicum of insight.

All right. She knew where she wasn’t going—back to Cisco. That narrowed her options down to only a few thousand other possibilities. So how was she supposed to choose one?

She glanced over her shoulder at the window. The cloud still lingered outside. Why did she get the feeling it was there for her benefit? The flutter in her heart returned, stronger this time. God had used clouds to guide his people in the past. Perhaps he meant to do so again.

But a cloud? Adelaide huffed out a breath and crossed her arms over her chest. Could there be a more ambiguous symbol? A fiery beacon in the night sky would be much better. No mistaking that message. Clear. Affirming. Definitive.

Clouds obscured things. They blocked out the sun and made everything gloomy. She wouldn’t be able to see more than a foot in front of her with that in her path.

“Walk by faith, not by sight.”

The verse popped into her mind, halting her mental tirade. Maybe God was speaking to her after all. Just not in the way she’d expected.

The more she thought about Moses and the Israelites wandering in the desert, the more she remembered the role of that cloud. Not only did it lead them, but it contained the very presence of God. Through it he spoke to Moses and filled the tabernacle with his glory. The people never journeyed to a new place until the cloud first moved away from the tabernacle. They waited on that cloud and made no move without it.

Adelaide squirmed in her chair, the tapestry cushions no longer comfortable as a new conviction settled over her. She had moved without the cloud. Folding her arms beneath her breast, she bowed her head.

“God, forgive me for my impatience. I saw what I thought I wanted, and when you made no move to give it to me, I took matters into my own hands. I wasn’t content, and I didn’t trust you enough to wait.”

She inhaled a shaky breath. “I’ve really made a mess of things, haven’t I? I need you more than ever, now. Show me where to go, what to do. And please give me enough faith to follow you even when I can’t see where the path is leading. In the name of Jesus, amen.”

Feeling calmer but somewhat numb, Adelaide relied on habit to steer her through the process of readying herself for bed. A splash of water from the pitcher on the dresser top soothed her face, and the cool cotton nightgown refreshed her body. She picked up the pillow from where it lay in a pathetic wad beside the bureau and fluffed it out as best she could. Then on wooden legs, she straggled over to the bed, arranged the pillow soggy side down, and crawled into the sheets. Half-sitting, she reached for the coverlet, but when she tugged it toward her, something crinkled.

She lifted the blanket and rescued the crushed newspaper that she had pilfered from the hotel sitting room. Stretching it across her lap, she smoothed out the wrinkles with the flat of her hand. The poor thing had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and look how it had suffered. Between the paper, the mattress, and the pillow, she was accruing quite a list of casualties.

As she straightened the interior section, an advertisement seized her attention.

Wanted: Governess for Ranch Owner’s Daughter
Experience and References Required
Apply in person to James Bevin, Esq.
Corner of S. Houston and W. 13
^th
Streets

A giddy sensation vibrated through her middle and sent tingles down her arms. Her cloud was on the move.

The next morning, Adelaide skittered around her room in a dither, wearing nothing but her corset and drawers. Every dress she owned had been flung over the furniture for her inspection. There were three on the bed, two draped across the armchair, and one hanging from the dresser mirror. Why was it that she could make huge decisions like resigning her teaching position in order to chase a man in the blink of an eye, but when it came time to select something to wear, she had the hardest time making up her mind? A frustrated growl rumbled in her throat.
This is crazy. I just need to pick something and be done with it.

The mustard traveling dress was still crushed and stained from the train ride, and the lemon gingham she had worn last night was worse for wear after all the trauma she had put it through, so those two could be excluded. Her butter-cream riding habit wasn’t appropriate for the occasion, either. That left the saffron calico, the pale gold wool, or the sunshine yellow muslin. The wool would probably be too warm now that spring was easing its way into summer. She adored the tiny floral print on the calico, but the solid-colored muslin might appear more professional. She debated for a minute, then grabbed the muslin.

Half an hour later, her credentials tucked away in her handbag and directions from the hotel clerk fresh in her mind, Adelaide set out to find Mr. Bevin.

His building appeared rather dull and nondescript on the outside, but once she walked through the door, a welcoming warmth infused her. The office was decorated in masculine tones, and the scent of pipe tobacco lingered in the air. Burgundy leather chairs formed a seating area beneath a painting that depicted an English fox hunt. She stepped closer to get a better look. A smile curved her lips. She could practically hear the barking of the hounds.

“May I help you?”

Adelaide jumped and knocked the picture off center. Hurrying to set the crooked artwork to rights, she nudged the frame back into a straight line and then spun around. A studious young man sitting behind a polished mahogany desk regarded her through circular lenses.

She cleared her throat. “I’m here to see Mr. Bevin.”

“Do you have an appointment?” He lifted his brows in a haughty manner that put her in mind of the arrogant young men she had met in Boston.

She stiffened her spine and turned her gaze to the side, as if the clerk were beneath her notice. “Kindly inform Mr. Bevin that Miss Adelaide Proctor has arrived as per his invitation. He did not specify an appointment time when he requested my appearance, so naturally I presumed he would see me at my convenience. Now, if you would be so good, sir …” She motioned for him to rise, like a queen commanding her subject.