Heart Appearances (Truly Yours Digital Editions Book 560) (13 page)

Clenching his jaw, Brent gave a brisk nod.

“You better head back to the station. I’ve told you all you need to know, and I have a train to catch. The ship I’ve signed on with leaves at morning’s tide.” Bill threw Brent a crooked smile. “I sound like a sailor already, don’t I?”

Hardly,
Brent thought, but didn’t say it.

“I’ve heard a bit of gambling goes on aboard ship—with or without the captain’s knowledge. Lady Luck and I have always been soul mates. I doubt I’ll have a problem finding my place with the boys.” He winked.

The ride back was quiet, and Brent relived the conversation in his mind. Didn’t even a morsel of decency remain in his brother? Was he truly a lost cause as their mother had once stated?

When they pulled up to the station, Brent faced Bill. “For what it’s worth, I want you to know I’m praying for you. I have been for a long time. You’re still my brother, regardless of everything. God keep you safe.” He held out his hand.

Bill studied it a moment, then looked up at Brent in surprised confusion. After a short time, he took his brother’s hand in a firm shake. “You know, Brent, sometimes I really do wish things could have turned out differently.” He paused as if he wanted to say more, then seemed to change his mind and jumped down from the wagon.

His jovial manner returned. “You may have always been something of a fuddy-duddy, but you’re an okay guy in my book, little brother.” Tipping his hat, he offered Brent one last devil-may-care grin. “Don’t take any wooden nickels!”

Brent shook his head as he watched him jog to the platform. Bill was the one running for his life due to wrong choices, and he was telling
Brent
not to do anything stupid? Deep concern for his brother’s welfare engulfed him. The righteous anger and betrayal Brent felt when Bill’s nefarious actions caused him to be ostracized as a schoolmaster had at some point melted away without his realizing it.

“Keep safe, big brother,” Brent said under his breath as he watched Bill disappear around the corner. “Dear Lord, keep him safe. Help him to find You. Send perfect laborers into his path, people to whom he would listen. In fact, as muleheaded as he is, perhaps an episode with a burning bush might prove more beneficial.”

He grinned at the thought of such a meeting.

❧

Darcy counted her remaining prize money from the poetry contest. Whatever should she do with it? She’d bought all she wanted. Charleigh didn’t seem to need it or want it, for that matter. And Darcy didn’t think she should single out any of the boys for fear of causing rivalries among them.

Hearing a horse, she moved to her attic window and looked down. Brent drove the wagon through the gates, along the lane toward the barn. Chickens squawked, scattering from the path. Darcy’s first thought of why the chickens were running loose and not in their pen was followed by the shock of seeing Brent in a new suit—a warm golden brown one, classically styled.

She ran down the stairs and out the door. With lifted skirts, she ran to the barn. The chickens gave loud protests, skittering out of her way.

Brent climbed down from the wagon and faced her in the shade of the barn’s overhang. The suit was good for his eyes and skin tone—much better than the drab color he’d worn before.

“You bought a new suit,” Darcy blurted when she could catch her breath.

Brent cast a disparaging glance at his clothes. “The tailor made this two weeks ago. The previous customer was unable to pay for it after ordering alterations. Surprisingly, it fit, though it’s not something I would have picked under normal circumstances. Yet I could no longer wear that paint-speckled suit. Here at the reform it wasn’t so bad, but in town, to do so was embarrassing.”

“Well, I like it,” Darcy said with a decisive nod. “It does something for you. Makes you look less stuffy.”

The corners of Brent’s mouth turned down at the compliment-gone-wrong, and Darcy quickly changed the subject. “How did the chat with your brother go?”

“He’s decided to become a sailor and is going to sea.”

Darcy wasn’t sure how to reply. She thought Brent should be pleased that his brother had left the criminal life. Yet he looked far from happy.

Brent stared at the black-feathered hen that strutted and pecked at the ground near his shoes. “Why are the chickens running loose? Who has the job of tending them this week?”

Darcy thought a moment. “Frank,” she said hesitantly.

They stared somberly at one another. Frank was tied with Joel as the third boy to go to the carnival. Because of Frank’s negligence, there was no longer a tie.

“Miss Evans, it wouldn’t be wise to allow Joel to attend the carnival,” Brent said as though reading her mind. “On the outside he’s shown an aptitude to change. However, I don’t think we’re observing a genuine change of heart, as the other boys seem to have had. To put it bluntly, I don’t trust Joel and don’t want the responsibility involved in taking him away from the Refuge.”

Darcy chewed on her lower lip. She didn’t trust the boy either. There was something about the look in his eyes when she would suddenly turn and catch him watching her. As if he were waiting for a certain moment—though to do what, Darcy had no idea.

“Then what’ll we do, Guv’ner? We can’t change the rules this late in the game. We’d look dishonest—promising the boys one thing and then not living up to our part of the bargain.”

“I didn’t say that the decision would apply to all the boys. Only to Joel.”

“I understand,” Darcy said impatiently. “But if we did such a thing, the others would think we don’t stand by our word. Maybe it wouldn’t affect them directly this time, but they’d remember what we did, sure as I’m standin’ here. And we may wind up with discipline problems because of it.”

Obviously upset, Brent pulled off his glasses and cleaned the spotless lenses with his handkerchief. “Had I known Joel would catch up to the others, I might not have agreed to the idea. I sincerely didn’t believe he would win. You and I both know that Joel is just waiting for an opportunity to run. He talks incessantly of finding his father. Suppose he decides to escape while we’re at the carnival? What then?”

“Michael will be with us,” Darcy countered. “The boys know better than to act up with him around.”

“Yet suppose that doesn’t prove to be the case when Joel’s in a public, unrestricted area? Suppose the lure of freedom proves too powerful for him?”

Darcy put her fists on her hips. “As for supposin’, suppose the sky falls down around our ears like it did for Chicken-Licken in that children’s book I read last year? Suppose a felon ambushes the wagon on the way to the carnival and holds us up? Suppose a blizzard hits the county—in which case, this conversation is moot because there wouldn’t be no carnival!” She shook her head. “You do too much supposin’ and not enough trustin’ in the Lord, Guv’ner.”

Brent held up his hands in a gesture of surrender, the temples of his glasses dangling from his fingers. “Very well, Miss Evans. If Charleigh and Michael agree, then obviously I’m outvoted. Still, I want you to know that I’m not in favor of taking Joel.”

“You’ve made that clear as windowpane glass. But I think we should give him a chance.”

Brent gave an abrupt nod. “I have a test to prepare. I’ll see you at dinner.”

❧

Days later, while Brent waited for Darcy and Michael to round up the three winners—Joel, Tommy, and Lance—he stared into the cloudless aquamarine sky and wondered again what he’d allowed himself to get into. He watched a formation of birds in their flight south. The scene reminded him of a postcard he’d seen recently detailing a fleet of ships in two neat rows, forming a V. He wondered about Bill and what he was doing. Had his desire to enter the seagoing life given him satisfaction? Or regret? Was he safe from the gangsters’ clutches?

A door slammed, and Brent peered over his shoulder. Herbert leaned against the rail of the stoop, Lance next to him. Both redheads had their arms crossed while they talked. The resemblance between the two was striking. They could have been brothers, with their freckled faces and bright eyes full of mischief.

Herbert’s expression was envious, but at the same time he seemed grateful. The dressing over his eyes had come off two days ago, and the doctor declared it a miracle that the boy suffered no permanent damage to his sight. He had commended Darcy for her quick thinking in rinsing Herbert’s eyes. Darcy had looked uncomfortable at the praise but nodded, saying, “It was Mr. Thomas’s idea. All the prayin’ every one of us did sure must have helped some too.”

Brent thought about the young woman who’d come to the establishment a year ago. In fact, it seemed lately all he did was think about her. A truth that did little to please him. Twice in past months, he’d actually entertained the notion of courting her, then blinked at the absurdity of such an idea and quickly set his mind to the work at hand.

Even now he envisioned her, with her entrancing eyes—as dark blue as the sky sometimes appeared in late autumn after the sun had descended far below the horizon. She’d finally adopted the habit of wearing her dark tresses up, as propriety demanded; but wispy tendrils often trailed at her temples and neck, giving her a delightful air of femininity.

Again the door creaked open. Michael and the last two winners stepped outside. After several seconds elapsed, Darcy followed. Brent blinked, then blinked again, his heart skipping a beat.

Darcy had dressed for the occasion in a cobalt blue dress with a white ruffled inset—obviously an outfit of Charleigh’s that had been altered to fit. Yet Brent couldn’t imagine it on anyone else. The dress appeared as though it had been designed for Darcy, bringing out the rose of her cheeks and the shine of her hair. The blue hat she wore added to the stunning picture.

She stopped in front of him, offering him a puzzled stare. “Somethin’ wrong, Guv’ner?”

Her inquisitive words snapped Brent from his daze. He realized an audience of four watched with amusement and extreme interest. Joel snickered. Brent turned a formidable glance his way and, for good measure, cut it to the other two boys so they would realize from the start that Brent wasn’t about to put up with any nonsense. He didn’t dare look at Michael.

“Guv’ner?”

Darcy’s soft query brought his attention her way. “No, Miss Evans, everything is splendid. Splendid. Allow me to help you to your seat.”

Taking her soft, warm hand in his was a mistake, and Brent broke contact the second she was seated on the driver’s bench. He felt her curious stare but concentrated on taking his seat and slapping the reins on Polly’s back.

Despite Darcy’s attempts at conversation, Brent continued to stare ahead, offering abrupt replies to any questions she presented. At last she gave up with a frustrated sigh and turned to watch the thick line of trees on her right while the wagon continued down the road.

Michael and the boys had entered into some sort of rapid word game. Brent shook his head in amusement at the sudden laughter that erupted from the back when Michael missed his cue—probably on purpose in order to gain the lighthearted response he had. He would make a superb grandfather.

Brent had never known his own grandparents. His only sister, Amy, older by eight years, once spoke about them from the little she remembered before they died. Yet they sounded too wonderful to be true; and as a child, Brent asked if Amy were inventing such paragons of benevolence. Whatever the truth, Brent wished he could have known them. Perhaps then he could better understand the concept of fun.

Much later, he pulled the wagon alongside a row of other wagons and several motorcars parked behind makeshift buildings and tents that were part of the carnival. The sun shone pale from a sky that had turned grayish blue, and the distinct smell of roasted peanuts and something sweet made Brent’s mouth water.

Unexpectedly, he found himself actually beginning to look forward to the adventure ahead. He decided he would do his utmost to relax and have fun—without sacrificing his dignity or principles, of course. Moreover, he would endeavor not to be stuffy, as the women had dubbed him—first Charleigh, then Darcy.

“Well, my lads,” he said, turning to look at the boys with a wide smile. He removed his glasses and placed them in his breast pocket. “Are you prepared to embark on an exciting escapade—one that in all likelihood you shall never forget for the rest of your days on this earth?”

The boys stared. Michael stared. Brent could feel Darcy’s stare.

The smile slid from his face. Had he laid the ebullience on a little thick? Perhaps there was a proper way to relax and have fun—one of which he was unaware. Before the day was through, Brent determined to unveil the secret.

Nine

Casting Brent a peculiar look, Darcy grabbed the picnic hamper.

“Leave it be, Lass,” Michael said. “We plan to return to the wagon at midday and eat our lunch.”

“Of course.” She’d already known that, but Brent’s bizarre behavior had mystified her and made her act without thinking.

“Besides,” Michael continued, “with five strong men to assist, you wouldn’t be thinkin’ we’d let a wee lass such as yourself carry even a small burden? Isn’t that right, laddies?”

The boys responded with a loud chorus of “yessirs.”

Darcy grinned. “Michael, you’re a peach.” She loved the old Irishman. He made her feel like somebody special, like his own daughter.