Читать книгу Through the Shadows - Karen Barnett - Страница 11

Chapter 4

4

Elizabeth fiddled through the stack of silk handkerchiefs. How many would she need? The trunk lid yawned open like a hungry alligator, but she’d yet to add a single garment from the pile strewn across her bed. Last time she’d traveled to San Francisco, she’d packed her nicest things in preparation to attend Robert’s wedding. It didn’t seem likely she’d need frilly evening gowns or lace-covered day dresses for a teaching position. She dropped the handkerchiefs back in the drawer with a sigh, sending up a swirl of fragrance from her lavender sachet. Elizabeth gathered her simplest skirts. All of the instructors at the ladies’ college wore muted browns and grays. Unfortunately, other than her russet walking skirt, everything she owned seemed to be in spring colors.

I might not be suited to teaching. Her mind wandered back to the three girls she’d seen at the oratory. She’d been so busy focusing on Miss Cameron, she hadn’t even thought to speak to them. Within a few days, she’d be standing before an entire classroom of Chinese students. What if they didn’t like her? Elizabeth held up her pink skirt with its matching floral jacket. She could almost picture the girls laughing silently behind their hands.

She sank onto the bed, the thought weighing upon her shoulders. When she’d picked out the pretty rose jacket, she’d imagined herself playing piano on the big stage of the Orpheum Theater. Her dreams had blossomed into thoughts of touring Europe. She’d spend languid afternoons buying hats and gowns in Parisian boutiques and evenings performing at the finest concert halls.

Teaching sewing to Chinese slave girls? It had never crossed her mind until last night. Was it a call from God, or an impulsive plan of escape?

Her concert dreams had been scattered like so many dandelion seeds to the wind. Elizabeth clenched her fists, her nails pressing against the tender skin of her palms. She opened her hand and studied the long fingers—Tobias called them a divine gift. Her stomach roiled. The very idea of touching a piano brought a sour taste to her mouth.

She needed a new dream.

Elizabeth jumped to her feet and folded the pink skirt together with a more serviceable blue one. Likely as not the girls would appreciate a little color in their teacher’s wardrobe. She folded her lace blouse and flowered jacket, adding them to the pile. Striding to the wardrobe, Elizabeth retrieved several shirtwaists and petticoats. It didn’t make sense to agonize over every choice. If her wardrobe offended, she’d simply make something new when she arrived. Her first demonstration piece could be a dowdy schoolmarm dress.

A gentle rapping on the door stilled her hands. An ache settled in the back of Elizabeth’s throat. If only she could avoid this conversation forever. “Come in, Mother.”

The door swung open, but her mother remained frozen on the threshold, eyes dark. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this, Elizabeth. We’ve had our differences before, but you’ve never run off on me.” She clutched a folded quilt to her chest, like a child in search of comfort.

“I’m not running away. The Mission needs teachers. Besides, there’s nothing for me here.”

Mother crossed the room, her quick footsteps silent on the rag rug. “How can you say such nonsense? What will I do without your help at the charity auction? And the library luncheon?”

Elizabeth folded a set of winter stockings. “You don’t need my help. I’m hopeless at such things.”

Mother sat on the edge of the mattress and pulled the quilt into her lap. “I wish you’d consulted me before you committed yourself to such a ridiculous venture. I’ve never even heard of this mission. If you wanted to serve a worthy cause, there are plenty right here. Why must all my children hightail it off to San Francisco?”

Elizabeth crouched down to peer into the shadowy recesses of the top drawer. “Ah, there they are.” She drew out a pair of white gloves wedged in the rear corner. “Not all of your children—only three of us.”

“You shouldn’t leave me like this.”

Elizabeth stopped midway between her bureau and the trunk. “Like what?”

“Alone.” Mother’s shoulders rounded.

She hadn’t seen Mother like this since Robert—always her favorite—left for medical school, years ago. She never anticipated such a reaction for her own departure. “It’s not so far. And it’s only for a year.” She swung her arm toward the window. “Ethel and Jane both live within a mile. I’m not leaving you alone.”

“Your sisters have their own lives.”

The muscles in Elizabeth’s back coiled. “So do I.”

“They have husbands, children. No time for their mother.”

The comment stung. “Because I’m not married, my life is not my own?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Elizabeth.” Mother pushed to her feet. “I’m concerned. If you were marrying and moving to the city, I wouldn’t worry. But you’re going off to some mission—”

“I need a change. I can’t stay here. Not while . . .” Elizabeth threw the handkerchiefs into the trunk, the delicate squares dropping out of their neat folds and fluttering down. Not while Tobias still occupies every thought.

Mother drew up to her full height. “I forbid it.”

“I’m a grown woman.”

“Then act like it. Don’t run off the moment things grow difficult.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes for a moment, determined to unravel the knot growing in her stomach before she said something she’d regret. “If only you could have heard Miss Cameron’s plea, you would understand.” She laid a hand on her chest. “I felt God’s call, Mother. As clear as I hear your voice right now.”

Her mother huffed. “I thought God called you to be a concert pianist. Look how quickly you threw it away—after years of training. Why should this be any different?”

Elizabeth sucked in a defensive breath, blinking back tears. She’d never be able to explain to Mother why the remaining concerts had been canceled. She simply couldn’t risk Tobias exposing her secrets to the world—or worse—to her family. “Working at the Mission will focus my heart on others.”

“Chinese children.”

“God’s children.”

Her mother fell silent. After a long moment, she scooped up the folded quilt. “So much like your father. You’d think of seven offspring, at least one might take after me.” She paced to Elizabeth’s side, her face softening. She held out the quilt, one wrinkled hand placed on top. “I want you to have this.”

Elizabeth lifted her gaze. “What is it?”

“Your grandmother’s quilt. She stitched it for me when I was a hair younger than you, but every bit as headstrong.” The hint of a smile softened the lines around her mouth. “Perhaps you do take after me . . . a little.”

Air rushed from Elizabeth’s lungs. She threw both arms around her mother, the precious quilt crushed between them.

***

Charles couldn’t help but admire the dawn light glowing against the new buildings lining Market Street. Stepping through the door of the Flood Building, he was careful to wipe the road dust from his shoes.

He hadn’t been to the new office yet. The firm had been in temporary quarters since the devastating earthquake and fires. Uncle Silas had raved about this new location—centered in the heart of San Francisco’s rallying financial district.

“Need a lift, sir?” A young man in a crimson uniform pulled back the elevator’s ornamental iron gate with a flourish.

Charles stepped in, trying not to think about the mechanics needed to make such a device function. He’d ridden in them before, but it always made his stomach queasy. “Thank you. Ninth floor, if it’s not too much trouble.”

An easy grin crossed the young man’s angular face. “No trouble at all.” He flipped a switch and inched the crank lever to the right. “Ninth—McKinley and McClintock, right?”

“That’s correct.”

“I’m still getting acquainted with the names. Only been at this post a few days. Lots to learn.”

Charles curled his fingers around the railing. Hopefully, the operator knew how to stop.

“But Mr. McKinley—he’s memorable.”

“Why is that?” Charles pushed back his hat to get a better look at the attendant.

“He doesn’t deign to speak to fellows like me, outside of requesting a floor. But you can tell right off, the fellow’s influential. Power oozes from every thread of his jacket. Probably not one to be crossed—if you know what I mean.” The operator slowed the car, overshooting the floor by a couple of feet and easing it back down.

“Yes. I believe I do.” Charles adjusted his collar as the man unclasped the gate and retracted it. “Thanks for the lift, Mr. . . .”

“Clemmons, sir. Eugene Clemmons. Thanks for asking. It’s an honor to be of service.” He stuck his hand out.

Charles dried his palm on his jacket before grasping the thin hand. “Um—it’s Charles.”

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Charles.” Eugene stepped back inside the elevator. “Have a good day, sir. I’ll see you on the way down.”

Charles stepped back, contemplating using the stairs from now on rather than explaining his personal connections to the young operator. Would he ever be viewed as a powerful force? It’d take more than a tailored suit to accomplish such a lofty goal.

Hurrying down the hall, he paused at the door, admiring the etching on the frosted glass. McKinley and McClintock, Attorneys at Law. He might not be the McKinley to which it referred, but he hoped to earn a place, regardless. Charles took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders as he entered the office.

A clerk lifted his gaze from the stack of papers at his desk and rose to his feet. “May I help you, sir?”

Charles strode forward, determined to leave his quivering nerves outside in the hall. “I’m Charles McKinley. Here to see my—to see Mr. Silas McKinley.”

The clerk’s chin jerked upward. “You’re—you’re . . .” His head bobbed on his skinny neck. “Of course, sir. I’ll let him know you’re here. Please, have a seat.” He gestured to a row of chairs before disappearing into the back.

Charles’s mind wandered back over his visit with the King family. Considering his uncle’s skill with investments, it seemed odd that he’d allowed their situation to become so dire. Even so, Miss King’s abrupt decision struck him as unusual. Hopefully, it came from a deeper conviction and not a knee-jerk reaction to his visit.

The clerk reappeared, his gangly limbs seeming to arrive a moment before the rest of him. “You may enter, Mr. McKinley.” His voice tightened upon speaking Charles’s last name.

Charles snapped up his bag and jumped to his feet, following the man past stacks of wooden crates.

“I must apologize for the mess. We’re still unpacking.” He paused at the end of the hall and opened the door, gesturing for Charles to enter. “He’ll be right with you.”

Uncle Silas clutched a telephone receiver, his fingers knotted around the device as a scowl drew down his face.

A tremor raced through Charles’s chest. Not in a good mood, then. He let his gaze wander the spacious office. The light from the large window gleamed off the rich wood paneling, so glossy Charles might have shaved by its reflection.

Uncle Silas glanced up, quirking one bushy gray brow. He lifted a hand from the blotter and gestured toward a seat located opposite the desk. Reclining in the high-backed swivel chair, he grunted into the receiver. “Nonsense, Cecil. You’re in this position because I deemed it appropriate, don’t give me any of this voting foolishness. You answer to me, and I say the business needs to relocate. He can’t expect to open a trinket shop on the most prestigious corner in the new financial district.” He rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to hear excuses. If you can’t get it done, I’ll find a man who can. In fact, I’m sitting across from a rather likely looking candidate right now.”

The words sent a chill through Charles. A candidate for what?

Uncle Silas cleared his throat and spun the chair toward the window. “I’m glad to hear it. I don’t want to drive past that eyesore, again. Have him out by nightfall.”

Charles sank into the seat and laid his palms on the edge of the tall desk, feeling like an undersized grammar school student. An odd combination of cigar smoke and furniture polish accosted his nose. If this were his office, he’d crank open those tall windows, first thing.

His uncle laid the receiver on the cradle and grunted. “Insufferable man. Why don’t they realize this is our chance to build this city right from the ground up?”

Charles swallowed. “From the looks of things, San Francisco appears to be recovering nicely.”

Uncle Silas pointed a crooked finger his direction. “If you ask me, the earthquake did us a favor. Cleaned house. We could use this opportunity to construct a showpiece of the West. But, no—folks want to put everything exactly where it was.” He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. “How did it go with the King woman?”

Welcome to the firm. Good to see you. How was the ferry ride? Did his uncle always skip the pleasantries? Charles skidded through his thoughts in an attempt to select the most pertinent information to report. “Mrs. King was quite welcoming. She seemed to understand the situation and be open to solutions.”

His uncle smiled, sitting forward. “Good, good. After her son showed up demanding answers, I feared she might be handing the reins over to him.”

Charles scooted closer to the desk. “I’m more concerned about the younger Miss King. She seemed put out over their predicament and quite vocal about her concerns.”

Uncle Silas flapped his hand. “Inconsequential. She’s a minor child.”

Charles drew the file from his bag. “I’m sorry to correct you, Uncle, but she’s no more a minor than I am. She’s twenty years old.”

“Twenty? How is that possible? Why, she was only in pigtails . . .” He squinted, as if searching his memories. “Well, I suppose it’s been a few years since I was last there. Same thing happened with you. I visit once and you’re a freckled-faced tyke in short pants. Now you sit before me a full-fledged attorney.” He ran a hand across his graying hair. “How old are you? Eighteen?”

“Twenty-four.”

He grunted, rubbing a hand across his eyes before replacing his spectacles, the chain dangling next to his jaw. “And that makes me an old man.”

Charles didn’t succeed in hiding his smile, the tension easing from his shoulders. “As I was saying, she’s highly agitated, throwing around wild accusations.”

His uncle drew back. “What sort of accusations?”

“The news about their financial losses must have been a great shock to the family. Miss King suggested their investments might have been mismanaged.”

Uncle Silas banged a hand on the desk like a gavel. “Most of the city took a financial loss. Why should the Kings be any different?” He pushed to his feet, the empty chair rotating slowly on its axis. He strode to the window and stared out over the view. “Leave it to a snip of a girl to claim her losses count for more than ours. Does she realize how many of my own assets incinerated during those three days? I’d invested in the same properties as William King, plus several other buildings. Many crumbled in the first shock, the others brought down by dynamite during the fire. The army thought explosives were the only way to stop the conflagration. My house was one of the last to burn.” He huffed, turning away from the view. “And I’m supposed to worry about her finances. Twenty years old—what does she know of loss?”

A shudder passed through Charles. He’d read about the disaster, but hadn’t realized how deeply it had impacted his uncle. “It must have been terrifying.”

“My life’s work went up in smoke. I paid a team of men a mighty sum to haul our records across the Bay to safety. If I hadn’t saved the documentation of every client who owed me money, I’d have been destitute—sleeping in one of those pathetic relief shacks, like any other yokel. It was a good day when I saw the last of those ramshackle cabins carted out of Golden Gate Park.”

“Father wouldn’t have allowed that to happen. You could have lived with us.”

“My brother knows I was never intended for ranch life.” Uncle Silas turned away from the window with a scowl. “And neither are you.”

A prickling sensation climbed Charles’s back. How easily his uncle saw through him.

“I always sensed you were destined for greatness. First, we’ll establish you here in the firm. Show me how hard you can work, and I’ll see you get into politics. A councilman, for starters, perhaps. But I plan to have you in the mayor’s office before long.”

Mayor McKinley. He could do so much good from the mayor’s seat. Charles grabbed the reins on his thoughts, determined not to let his dreams run away with him. “Uncle, I just arrived.”

A gleam appeared in Uncle Silas’s eye. “Oh, you haven’t arrived yet, boy.” He turned and gazed out at Market Street. “But you will.”

***

Elizabeth gripped her case, a long coat draped over one arm. Ever since the ferry came to rest against the dock, sweat had trickled down her back beneath her tailored jacket. Remembering the bay’s chilly fog from her last visit, she’d dressed in extra layers. Now as she lined up with the other passengers to disembark, the sun’s rays beat down, cooking her. The boat deck swayed under her feet. She couldn’t wait to get somewhere quiet where she could shrug off this jacket and wool vest. Likely as not, that wouldn’t be until she arrived at the Mission. Her stomach quivered at the thought, her zeal fading with every measured step.

The porter smiled as he helped her down the gangplank. “Welcome to San Francisco, Miss.”

She pulled the case close to her hip, as if it would work as a shield against her fears. Elizabeth followed the stream of passengers heading for the Ferry Building and scanned the crowd for Ruby.

Her sister stepped from the crowd, waving a gloved hand. Her red hair sparkled in the sunlight, lace ribbons trailing from her sage-green hat. “Elizabeth!”

A wash of emotion swept over Elizabeth as she rushed into her sister’s arms. “I’m so relieved you are here, Ruby. I’m completely wrung out.”

“Of course you are, sweetheart. I felt the same way when I arrived two years ago.” She pulled her close. “Oh, how I’ve missed you!”

Elizabeth laid her cheek on her sister’s shoulder, biting her lower lip to keep from bursting into tears like a lost child.

Ruby’s husband walked up to join them, a smile on his face. “Sisters reunited. A good sight.”

Elizabeth pulled back, keeping her grip on Ruby’s hand lest she disappear into the crowd. “Dr. Larkspur—Gerald—it’s wonderful to see you again.” Elizabeth diverted her gaze from the empty sleeve folded and pinned above his elbow. Ruby had written of the surgery, but it was still difficult to see her brother-in-law with only one arm.

He took her case and leaned down to place a kiss on her cheek. “You should have seen Ruby’s face when we received your letter.”

A laugh bubbled up in Elizabeth’s chest, chasing away the malaise that had crept over her. “I guess this is a little out of character.”

A blast of air escaped Ruby’s lips. “Not at all. My altruistic sister volunteering at a mission? It’s a perfect match, if you ask me. How many lost kittens did you bring home when you were little? Now you’re going after lost girls.” She wrapped her arm around Elizabeth’s waist. “You’ve grown up while we weren’t paying attention.”

Elizabeth glanced between her sister and Gerald. “As Mother keeps reminding me, you’re all busy with your marriages. I decided it was high time I did something worthwhile, since I’m no closer to finding a husband.”

“I met Gerald the day I arrived in San Francisco. Perhaps the man of your dreams awaits you here, somewhere.”

An ache cut through Elizabeth’s heart. If only she’d followed her sister’s example. She’d rather have a one-armed man who loved her fiercely than a two-faced musician concerned only with his own pleasure. “I’ve put such thoughts out of my mind. At least for now.”

They arranged for a porter to deliver her trunk to the automobile, and Gerald led the way to the Ferry Building’s front door. “We’d love to have you stay at the house for a few days before you begin work.”

The weariness dropped back over her shoulders like a cloak. “I wish I could. I told Miss Cameron I’d arrive today and begin classes tomorrow.”

Ruby halted on the steps, her lips pulling into a frown. “She can’t expect you to start so soon!”

“They’ve been short on teachers for months. Everything has been in a transition period since the move. She wants to get the girls on a regular schedule as soon as possible.”

“I’m claiming your next free day, then.” Her sister sighed, taking Elizabeth’s coat over her own arm. “The Mission’s new building looks beautiful. Did you know Abby has friends there?”

The mention of her sister-in-law’s name brought a fresh smile. Elizabeth had spent a couple of weeks with Abby before she and Robert wed, and they’d become immediate friends. “Yes, I remember seeing Miss Cameron at the wedding.”

“Of course. Abby is over the moon about you going to work there. She’s always wanted to volunteer, but . . .” She glanced at Gerald, falling silent as they approached the Larkspurs’ automobile, parked at the curb.

He helped the porter wedge the trunk into one of the rear seats and handed him a tip. “Your brother has concerns about the Mission.”

Elizabeth jerked her head up. “Concerns?”

“It’s nothing.” Ruby squeezed her hand.

A light danced in Gerald’s eyes as he helped Elizabeth into the car. “When he heard your plans, he looked as if he’d swallowed a toad.”

Ruby frowned. “Hush now. You’ll frighten her.”

He chuckled as he walked her around to the opposite side. “Robert’s an opinionated fellow. Elizabeth knows that.”

Elizabeth folded her hands in her lap, her mother’s objections jumping to mind. “Seems to run in our family.”

He gave Ruby a hand up into the driver’s seat. “I never said that. But I agree with the overall sentiment.”

Ruby touched his cheek. “Which is why you love us all so much, right?”

He patted her leg. “Of course. Robert was my assistant and then my partner for a year before I met either of you lovely ladies. I know all about the King temperament.”

Ruby’s laugh rang out. She drew a long filmy scarf from her bag and tied it around her hat.

Elizabeth sucked in a breath, Robert’s qualms forgotten. “Ruby, are you driving?”

Gerald inserted the crank handle and started the motor, the engine roaring to life. “She’s a fine driver. Taught her myself.” He strode to the rear of the vehicle and climbed into the passenger compartment.

“I thought I was the modern-thinking suffragist in the family. Here you are driving an automobile while your husband sits with the luggage. I don’t believe it.” Unless. She glanced back at her brother-in-law. “Is it because of your—your arm?”

Ruby smiled. “No, dear one. Gerald still drives, even with one hand. But then I couldn’t show off for my baby sister.”

Gerald hooked one ankle over the opposite knee. “She’s not only a wonderful wife and a talented nurse, she’s an excellent chauffeur. I’ve been feeling a bit tired lately, too. It’s probably best she drives on days like this.”

Ruby pulled away from the curb and into traffic, guiding the vehicle around a passing delivery wagon.

Elizabeth studied her sister’s profile. Her demeanor had shifted with Gerald’s last comment. Had his cancer returned? Ruby had taken a huge risk marrying a man with an uncertain future, especially since she’d already lost one husband. Elizabeth wrapped her arms about her midsection. The idea that her sister could lose Gerald was almost too much to bear. Elizabeth wasn’t certain if she’d have chosen to marry a man with such health problems. She sighed. Likely as not, she wouldn’t marry at all.