More Than a Dream (29 page)
‘‘Mother, is that ink I see on your chin?’’
Annabelle’s mouth dropped open. Her hand automatically went to her chin. ‘‘Oh.’’ She turned and with a swirl of skirts headed for the stairs. ‘‘I’ll be down after I wash up.’’
Elizabeth chuckled to herself. And all those years her mother had been appalled at ink under her husband’s fingernails. Placing her hands back on the ivory keys, she started to play ragtime like she had heard from the pianos of Chicago but instead drifted into ‘‘Clair de Lune.’’ When she felt that all the raucous sounds and smells of the hospital had been washed away, she went on upstairs to take a bath before supper, something she had never before considered a luxury.
Her mother woke her from where she’d fallen over on the pillow while brushing out her hair after the languid bath. ‘‘Supper will be ready soon, or would you rather continue sleeping?’’
‘‘No, I’ll come down. I can’t believe I fell asleep again. Makes me wonder if I’ve contracted sleeping sickness.’’ Elizabeth sat up and stretched her arms over her head. ‘‘You have no idea how I appreciate the quiet, the peace, and the smell of your roses.’’ She leaned over and sniffed a pink cabbage blossom. ‘‘Have you made any potpourri yet? I’m going to want some to take back with me. A hint of home.’’
‘‘Of course, I—’’
‘‘You’ve been too busy?’’ Elizabeth enjoyed the flustered look on her mother’s face. ‘‘I think you like being a woman working outside your home.’’
Annabelle smiled with a tiny nod. ‘‘But don’t tell your father. He thinks I am still doing this as fill-in until he finds someone else.’’
‘‘And has he been looking?’’ Elizabeth dabbed a bit of scent behind her ears and at the base of her throat, taking an extra sniff of the bottle stopper.
‘‘You can be sure I have not reminded him of it. And while my needlepoint has been sadly neglected, we have so many things to talk about now at night. You’d think we’d get them talked out at the office but . . .’’ She raised both hands in a classic shrug.
Elizabeth stood and put both arms around her mother. While the hug was gentle, she packed it with feeling.
Thank you, God, for
caring for my mother in a way I never would have even thought to
pray for. You are so wise and mighty, answering my prayers before I
even think of them. Thank you, indeed
. ‘‘Do you have a special dress you would like for me to wear?’’
Annabelle’s eyes widened slightly before a smile twitched and grew into delight. ‘‘Why yes, this blue-sprigged dimity that we bought in Chicago. I know your father will love seeing you in it.’’
Elizabeth removed the scoop-necked dress with an empire waistline from her wardrobe. Matching blue piping divided white lace from the bodice at the neck and around the hems of the puffed sleeves and also peeked out at the bodice seam, tying in a bow at the front. The same trim decorated the full hemline.
When Elizabeth sat down to fix her hair, her mother took the brush from her hand. ‘‘Let me.’’
‘‘You’re not going to braid it so my eyes go like this?’’ Elizabeth put her fingertips at the outer edges of her eyes and pulled back slightly.
‘‘No, I think I’ll put it up on the sides with curls gathered on top and down in the back.’’ Within minutes she accomplished just what she wanted and stood back. ‘‘You need something more.’’
‘‘I think not. Is there anything that you don’t do well?’’ Elizabeth touched a finger to the curls on top. ‘‘I can never get it to do anything but go into a bun, like at the hospital, or pull it back with a ribbon. Although a braid would probably be better than a bun at work. You saw those triangle scarves we wear to keep our hair back?’’
‘‘Not especially attractive.’’ Annabelle pulled a blue ribbon out of a drawer and threaded a creamy cameo on it before tying it at the back of her daughter’s neck. ‘‘There.’’
‘‘Unattractive, my big toe. They are ugly. Downright ugly.’’ Elizabeth nodded while she looked in the mirror again. ‘‘Thank you.’’
They descended the stairs together but stopped when Phillip and Thorliff greeted them with claps of approval.
‘‘Thank you, kind sirs.’’ Elizabeth bobbed an almost curtsy, laughing with her father. When she looked at Thorliff, she caught her breath. His eyes, that incredible blue, shone with more brilliance than ever.
She’s beautiful
. Thorliff swallowed and swallowed again to force the action past his Adam’s apple. Like someone out of a painting.
Don’t be silly. It’s just Elizabeth
. He ignored that voice, feeling his lips stretch and tilt upward with a mind of their own. The scent of roses wafted down and circled on an air current from the open French doors. Every hair on his body tingled, as if standing to attention. Words like
adoration
and
beauty
and
grace
tripped through his mind and tickled his mouth to further expansion. As if propelled by a sense not his own, he stepped forward and extended his crooked arm.
Elizabeth stepped off the bottom stair as if onto a cloud. She returned his smile, her head slightly tipped to the side as if listening for an inner music.
It is only Thorliff
. She ignored the voice and laid her hand on his arm as though she were a princess meeting her prince.
His muscles flexed beneath her fingertips, responding without his intention. If he turned his head just a bit, her fragrance teased him further. ‘‘It appears your naps have done you well.’’
You sound
like her father or her doctor. Can you come up with nothing more
brilliant than her health, of which you are not supposed to be aware
anyway?
‘‘Ah, did I look so terrible then?’’
Elizabeth Marie Rogers, you
are flirting!
‘‘No, I mean—of course not, I . . .’’
If my neck gets any hotter,
my tie shall burst into flame. Why didn’t I stay at the paper?
Elizabeth smiled, a small smile that along with the slight lift of her eyebrows said she knew she’d sent him into the hinterland to sort out his mistakes.
‘‘Let us search for a breeze on the back verandah.’’ Phillip took his wife’s hand and tucked it within his arm. ‘‘Cook said we have about fifteen minutes until supper is ready.’’
In the few short seconds before they passed outside into the cool shade, Thorliff wished he could pull his collar away from his flaming neck. Whatever was the matter with him? After all, he and Elizabeth had been trotting up and down the hill, working together at the paper, and even playing croquet a few times, let alone the hours they’d spent arguing over politics, religion, women’s rights, novels read, studies, and even Greek philosophers. So what was going on here?
‘‘I’ve had the funniest thing happening to me.’’ Elizabeth stood between her father and Thorliff, sipping from the glass handed her off the silver tray.
‘‘And what is that, my dear?’’ Phillip handed his wife a glass also before getting one for Thorliff and then himself. ‘‘I do hope you plan to play for us this evening. That piano has been pining for you as much as I have.’’ He looked down at his daughter. ‘‘Excuse me. You said something about funny things? I could use a good dose of humor.’’
‘‘I think I must be getting paranoid. Not even trusting my shadow.’’
‘‘What?’’
‘‘I get the oddest sensation that someone is watching me.’’
‘‘You are lovely enough that I am sure you turn young men’s heads everywhere you go.’’
Elizabeth smiled up at her father. ‘‘That is not what I mean at all. This is more a sinister thing. Even just this afternoon after my nap out here, I thought I saw the lilac hedge move. Just hallucinations, I am sure.’’ She felt a shiver raise the hairs down her back. ‘‘And yet . . .’’
Phillip stared into his daughter’s eyes. ‘‘You are no flibbertigibbet to spook at a shadow. If you feel that again, you will let one of us know.’’
She could tell his response was not a request but an order.
She tried to laugh. ‘‘Surely we are making too much of this.’’
‘‘When did it start?’’ Thorliff asked quietly.
‘‘At the hospital.’’ She shook her head at Thorliff. ‘‘Now you sound just like my father.’’
‘‘Is this what you referred to in your letter?’’ He kept his voice to a low murmur for her ears only.
‘‘Supper is served,’’ Cook announced from the doorway.
‘‘Come now, let us have a pleasant evening.’’ Elizabeth gave Thorliff a nearly invisible nod. ‘‘I’m sorry I brought it up. I thought it would give us all a good laugh.’’ She covered her sigh of relief with a chuckle.
They did not laugh at me, so perhaps I didn’t want
that after all. Oh, I don’t know what I want, other than to not have
that feeling ever again
.
Northfield, Minnesota
‘‘Don’t say nothin’ and ye won’t be gettin’ hurt.’’
Elizabeth struggled against the solid arms imprisoning her. The black covering over her head smelled rank, making her gag.
Dear Lord, what is happening?
‘‘Who are you? What do you want?’’
‘‘Ow!’’
Her heel connected with his shin. She tried to free her arms, kicking and twisting, but while her feet landed more blows, they weren’t enough to deter her attacker.
‘‘Ugh!’’ She grunted as he wrestled her to the ground and, with one knee in her back, roped her feet together, cursing as one final kick connected with what she hoped might be his head.
Not get
hurt? What did he think he was doing to her now?
She twisted her face to the side so she wasn’t inhaling dirt.
He finished tying the rope around her legs, rolled her over and, wrapping it twice around her arms, hefted her trussed-up body over his shoulder and strode off, each step jolting into her rib cage.
‘‘Let—me—go. You—are—making a—terrible mistake.’’
‘‘Shut up, or I’ll be shuttin’ ye up permanent-like.’’
His voice. Where had she heard it before?
Father God, I know
you hear me. Please get me out of this
. ‘‘What do you want?’’ With all the blood rushing to her head and the man’s shoulder in her belly, she was having difficulty thinking.
Think, Elizabeth, think
.
Her captor stopped, his heavy breathing indicating that carrying her was not an easy chore. In fact, she could feel his heart thundering underneath her.
Walking in the twilight had always been one of her favorite activities. On her way to the riverbank this time, she’d heard someone begging for help. She’d stopped and turned to look into the band of trees when someone had thrown a bag over her head in spite of her frenzied efforts to thwart him.
Rage and fear joined hands to lock down her tears. ‘‘Who—?’’ He turned and banged her head against something solid, setting her ears to ringing and her temple to thudding with pain. She moaned, fighting nausea.
‘‘Please, I need . . . air.’’
‘‘Shut up!’’ He started out again, long strides bouncing her tender flesh against his bony shoulder, an arm of steel clamped across her knees.
‘‘L-look, if y-you want money—’’
‘‘I said shut up!’’ He thumped her posterior with a heavy hand.
Lord God, where are you? Please, I beg you, come to my rescue
.
‘‘Elizabeth surely is staying out late.’’
Phillip looked up from the book he was reading to see his wife standing at the front windows looking out. ‘‘She must have stopped to talk with someone.’’
‘‘Folks are really happy to see her home, that’s true. You think she stopped by to see Thorliff?’’
‘‘We can call down there and check. He was going to spend the evening working on his latest story. At least that’s what he told me.’’
‘‘I’ll call Mr. Stromme. Was Thorliff going to work at the office?’’
‘‘Most likely. You know how Henry loves to talk, so there’s not much chance to work there until after bedtime.’’
‘‘I believe I’ll call.’’
‘‘You worry so.’’ Phillip returned to his book. ‘‘Elizabeth’s going to tease you about this.’’ But Phillip put his book down and started to rise when Annabelle came back in the room.
‘‘She’s not there. Thorliff said he hasn’t seen her.’’ Worry dug channels in her forehead.
‘‘Annabelle, dear, our daughter is growing up. She’s even been on her own in Chicago. What could possibly happen to her here in Northfield?’’