Through the Deep Waters (18 page)

When all the other worshipers had gone and Amos had nearly given up on being able to talk to Miss Mead, the girl finally hugged her mother and shot down the aisle. Midway, she spotted him and stopped so quickly her feet slid on the wood-planked floor.

“Oh! Mr. Ackerman.” Her face flooded with pink, and she repeatedly clasped and unclasped her hands against the white bib of her apron. “You … you’re still here.”

He nodded and stepped into the aisle. “Yes. I hoped to talk to you.”

She glanced out the open doorway and grimaced. “My ride is waiting. I’m on duty in a few minutes. But …” She bit down on her lip for a moment, bringing her fine red-gold brows together. “If I tell the others I’ll be there soon, then … perhaps … we could walk to the hotel?” Her gaze dropped briefly to his bad leg, and the color in her face deepened. She looked into his eyes again, her expression apologetic. “That is, if … if you’re able.”

Amos swallowed a self-conscious chuckle. “Since I don’t own a horse, I walk everywhere, Miss Mead. So that suits me fine. As long as you don’t mind being seen walking with me.” He paused, giving her an opportunity to change her mind. He wouldn’t hold a grudge if she did.

A smile curved her lips. “Let me tell the others to go on without me.” She dashed out the door, her skirts held above her ankles.

Amos followed in his usual gait, and by the time he reached the bottom of
the steps, the hotel’s buggy was rolling away. Miss Mead, her face shiny with perspiration and her cheeks glowing pink, hurried to his side.

“It’s all arranged. They’ll let Mr. Irwin know I’m on my way and will carve this time from my lunch break. So …” She gazed up at him, expectancy glowing in her green eyes. “What did you need?”

Amos held his hand toward the street, and with a little giggle Miss Mead moved in that direction. Amos hitched along beside her, keeping his arm tucked tight to his side to avoid bumping her. “Actually, Miss Mead, I’m worried about something and hoped you might be able to help.”

“I’ll try.” She spoke brightly and seemed to almost bounce as she walked, like a horse being held back by a firm hand on the reins.

“It’s about Miss Hubley.”

“
Her
again?”

Amos stopped and stared at her. He raised one brow.

She came to a stop, as well, and clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes rounding in shock. She lowered her hand, once again clasping her fingers and pressing them to her bodice. “Please forgive me, Mr. Ackerman. That was uncharitable of me. It’s just that … You see, I was just talking to my mother about my feelings toward …” She waved both hands as if shooing away flies. “Never mind me. Dinah didn’t leave service last week because of you. Is that what’s troubling you? If so, you can put your mind at ease.”

Amos set his feet in motion again, relieved when Miss Mead followed along, although with a more trudging pace. “She already told me so, but—”

“When did you talk to her?”

If he wasn’t mistaken, she sounded miffed. He answered cautiously. “I happened upon her this past Thursday when she was sweeping the porch.”

The girl set her lips in a firm line.

Puzzled but determined, Amos continued. “But no matter what she says, something must have happened. She told me she feels unwelcome in church. I thought, since you two work together, you might know why. And I thought, since your father is the preacher, you could help her understand she is welcome there.”

Miss Mead chewed on her lower lip as they stepped up onto the boardwalk and moved slowly past the town’s businesses. Had she slowed her pace to accommodate him, or had her thoughts become so heavy her feet found it difficult to carry her forward?

She finally looked up at him, and the shade falling full on her unsmiling face gave her a grim appearance. “I don’t know why she feels unwelcome in church. I’ve invited her to attend. I even asked her to sit with my family.” A hint of defensiveness colored her tone. “But she prefers to be alone.”

Amos disagreed with Miss Mead’s opinion, but he had no proof to offer as an argument. So he clenched his teeth and remained silent.

“Dinah is nothing like the other girls who work at the hotel. I’ve never associated with anyone from a big city before.” Miss Mead’s pace sped as words poured out in a crisp torrent. “Perhaps her behavior is due to being raised in a larger place. I imagine our little town of Florence is quite a change from Chicago. Big-city people are different, Papa says—less likely to know their neighbors. So she might remain aloof because she’s always been aloof from those who lived around her. Or perhaps it’s the result of being raised in affluence.”

“Affluence?” Amos couldn’t hold back the startled exclamation. “Miss Hubley is rich?”

Miss Mead nodded rapidly, the ruffle of her little white cap bouncing against her smoothed-back hair. “Oh, yes. Dinah comes from a wealthy family. She even had a cook in her house! Her own cook—can you fancy that?”

Amos shook his head, astounded. “If she’s from a wealthy family, why is she working as a chambermaid in the Clifton?”

Miss Mead turned the corner leading to the railroad station, her hands held outward in a gesture of helplessness. “I don’t know. But I wonder …”

Amos resorted to a double hop on his good leg as he struggled to keep up with Miss Mead. She seemed to be trying to escape. “You wonder what?”

She flicked a hesitant glance at him and then ducked her head. “I don’t know if I should say.”

Amos caught her arm and drew her to a stop. His hip ached and his breath huffed out. Sweat trickled down his temples. He removed his hat and swiped the moisture away before giving Miss Mead a firm look. “Please tell me.”

Miss Mead released a little sigh. “Very well. I wonder if she came here knowing how many businessmen pass through Florence on the Santa Fe. One of the servers, Minnie, openly proclaimed she hopes to snag a rich husband. I wonder if Dinah has the same intention. After all, she told me she wants to become a server when she turns eighteen. The servers have a better chance of meeting a man than she and I do as chambermaids.”

Amos considered everything Miss Mead had said. Some of her statements surprised him. Dinah came from Chicago? Her family had money? He wouldn’t have guessed such things about her, given her timid behavior and simple attire. If these things were true, she would certainly want more than anything he could offer. His chest constricted. But he shouldn’t think of himself. He still didn’t understand Dinah’s reason for saying she wasn’t welcome in church.

Miss Mead looked toward the hotel, which towered high and proud across the street from the train station. “I need to return to duty, Mr. Ackerman.” Regret colored her tone, and her lips turned down in a pout. “I’m sorry if I wasn’t as helpful as you’d hoped.”

She hadn’t been helpful. Not at all. But he’d never be so unkind as to tell her so. He forced a smile. “Please don’t concern yourself, Miss Mead. It’s apparent you also care about Di—Miss Hubley.”

Miss Mead lowered her head and fiddled with the pocket on her apron.

“If you’d be kind enough to tell her that I missed her in service this morning and continue to encourage her to attend, I would be grateful.”

“Of course, Mr. Ackerman. I’ll … gladly deliver your message.” She turned to leave, then spun to face him again. “Oh! Mr. Ackerman?”

Amos paused, waiting.

“It’s dinnertime. And the dining room is open to townsfolk. Many of them partake of the scrumptious menus Mr. Gindough prepares.” A hopeful smile lit her face. “You’ve got your own jacket today, so you won’t have to
borrow one from the cashier. Mr. Irwin strictly enforces Mr. Harvey’s ‘jackets in the dining room’ rule. Why not come in and have a good meal before returning to your home? I would think a bachelor like yourself would appreciate eating someone else’s cooking now and then.”

Amos rubbed the underside of his chin. The chickens and his pups were safe—he could leave them for a little longer. Good smells wafted across the street from the hotel, making his mouth water. He was hungry, and he’d never treated himself at the hotel, even though he’d heard the townspeople talk about the good cook.

“Roast beef today with whipped potatoes and beef gravy, asparagus in garlic butter, fresh-baked rolls and raspberry preserves, and all the relishes you could want.” Miss Mead cocked her head. Her grin turned impish. “And for dessert
Charlotte di Pesche
.”

Amos reared back. “What is Charlotte dee peshuh?”

She laughed lightly, but he sensed no rancor. “A delectable concoction of spiced peaches and light cake with a custard-like sauce, all topped with sweet whipped cream.”

Amos licked his lips.

Miss Mead giggled behind her fingers. “Have you decided to come in, then?”

He nodded and followed Miss Mead to the hotel. Inside, she bade him farewell and dashed off, hopefully to deliver his message to Dinah. He gave his seventy-five cents—nearly the equivalent of four days’ work for a dozen hens—to the cashier, who laid the coins in the cash register drawer so gently they didn’t even clink. Then a young man guided him through the crowded dining room to a table where he joined a family with three children of various ages and two couples, one middle-aged and one older. They must have come on the train because he didn’t recognize any of them, but they smiled a mild hello as he slid into the one remaining seat. He nodded in reply, and they went back to their conversations as if he wasn’t there.

One of the servers—he thought he’d heard Miss Mead call her Amelia—bustled over with a china cup in her hand. “Do you prefer coffee or tea today?”

“Um …” He drank coffee at home. “Tea, please.”

She flipped the cup upside down on the table in front of him, then scurried off. Moments later a second server approached and turned the cup right-side up before filling it with steaming, pale-brown liquid. Amos sniffed it. Although not as stout as coffee, it held a pleasant scent. He took a sip. He set it down. He wouldn’t waste it, but next time he’d get coffee instead.

The dining room buzzed with the voices of guests, the soft
clump
of plates meeting the cloth tabletops, and the patter of servers’ feet. The girls dashed around the room delivering plates of steaming food with such speed, Amos wondered how they managed to avoid running into one another.

And Dinah wanted to be among their ranks …

While he ate his meal—the fanciest food he’d ever had—he watched the servers from the corner of his eye. Especially the short, yellow-haired one named Minnie. Although perspiration dotted her nose, giving evidence of discomfort, she smiled brightly at the men unaccompanied by wives. Miss Mead had said Minnie wanted to snag a husband, and her behavior seemed to prove it. She was friendlier than the other three servers put together, and the others were very pleasant to the guests.

Did Dinah behave this way with the men, too? Maybe she only shied away from him because, as Miss Mead had said, she was wealthy and didn’t want to be friendly to someone who wasn’t of her class. An unsettled feeling filled his stomach, and he pushed away the last of his peach dessert.

The other men at the table each slipped a nickel or dime under their plates when they finished, so Amos stacked up five pennies beside his—the only coins remaining in his pocket. Then he downed the remainder of his tea, which had grown tepid in the cup, and rose as the train whistle blasted.

Since he had no need to board the train, he stepped out of the way of those who did, allowing them to scurry out ahead of him. Then he waited for the other townspeople to leave, knowing his clumsy gait would slow them, too. When everyone else had made their way to the doorway, Amos followed onto the porch. He paused, his gaze unwittingly turning to the place where he’d seen Dinah three days ago with the broom in her hands.

In his mind’s eye he saw her smile. Not aimed at him, but at Samson and Gideon. He tried to recall if she’d ever smiled at
him
. No. Not once. Most of the time she looked at him with a wariness that saddened him. The uncomfortable feeling in his stomach increased. He made his way off the porch slowly, then headed for home. As he walked beneath the blistering sun, he spoke to the One who always walked with him.

“Lord, have I set my sights on something that isn’t meant to be? I don’t know why Dinah—Miss Hubley—keeps coming to mind if I’m not supposed to think about her
that way
.” He knew the Lord would understand. “Maybe my imagination got the best of me, but it sure seemed like she was lonely. Just like me. And maybe she is lonely. But if she’s rich and looking for a husband, she sure isn’t going to look at me.”

He swallowed, his throat so dry the action pained him. He wished he’d asked for a second cup of tea. He squinted skyward at the clear blue expanse. “Maybe it’s best. I don’t have time to court a girl right now, what with trying to get my farm going good and taking care of puppies. And if she’s not yet eighteen, she’s awfully young. But I sure wish I could understand why …”

He stopped. His pulse stuttered, and it had nothing to do with tiredness. “She’s on my heart, God. She has been since the day I found her sleeping on the porch. I’ve never met another girl who stayed in my thoughts the way she has. But if she isn’t churched, I shouldn’t be thinking about her. You warn Your children about being unequally yoked, and I won’t go against Your Word.”

He pushed himself into motion again. “I’ll keep praying for her to come to church. And You keep reminding me to do it. But while You’re reminding me of things, remind me not to think of Miss Hubley in ways I shouldn’t.” He aimed a grimace heavenward and sighed. “It won’t be easy. I’m mighty glad with You everything’s possible.”