A Bride So Fair, page 9
part #3 of A Fair to Remember Series
The pair shook their heads in unison. “No luck,” Flynn told him.
Mort stepped forward. “We took the key you gave us and went in the back door of her house. We went through it from top to bottom, but the place looks like she just left for the afternoon.”
“No sign of the boy?”
Flynn shrugged. “Nothing yet.”
McGinty narrowed his eyes. They both wore far too casual an air for two men skirting the brink of disaster.
“We checked with the neighbors,” Mort said, “and the old lady next door who took care of the kid sometimes. Nothing there. We even looked up the little spy you had keeping an eye on your lady friend. He gave us some more places to try, but nothing there, either. Nobody has seen the kid, boss. It’s like he just vanished.”
McGinty kept them waiting while he stared at the opposite wall, turning over different scenarios in his mind. Finally, he spoke. “The fairgrounds.”
“Huh?” Deep creases furrowed Flynn’s forehead.
“She must have had him with her.”
Mort wagged his head. “We never saw no kid, boss.”
“You weren’t looking for him, either, were you? She saw you, and she ran. You told me that yourself.” McGinty spoke his thoughts aloud, following the line of reasoning as it came together in his mind. “Did she tuck him away somewhere? Put him in someone else’s care? If so, the child could be anywhere.”
He laced his fingers and tapped his thumbs together. “But did she have time for that?” He thought over the scenario they had described to him and shook his head. He didn’t think so.
McGinty straightened in his chair. If she gave him to someone, the boy was gone without a trace and the trail was cold. Unless…
“You.” He pulled a couple of bills from his wallet and tossed them toward Mort. The short man snagged them and turned a puzzled look on McGinty. “What’s this for?”
“First thing in the morning, go get yourself a decent-looking suit of clothes. Make yourself look respectable. Then you will present yourself on the fairgrounds and act as though you’ve lost a child. Ask someone where you should look. There must be some procedure they follow.”
Mort pocketed the money and stood as if awaiting additional orders. Flynn eyed him jealously. “Why don’t you let me go?”
McGinty fixed him with a withering stare. “You’re a bit too heavy-handed for this. I want the child back in one piece.” He turned his attention back to Mort. “Be careful. This may be your last chance to find the boy.”
After they left, McGinty sat lost in thought. It might work.
It had to work.
9
“Good morning, Emily.”
Emily, who had been sliding a folder into its place in the filing cabinet, whirled at the sound of her name. She felt her smile fade when she saw Raymond Simmons standing a few feet away from her.
“Good morning, Mr. Simmons.” She took her time closing the file drawer, wishing he would take the hint and leave. Her hope went unfulfilled—he was still standing there when she turned back around again.
He walked over to the desk and extended one arm, presenting her with a nosegay of fall flowers. “Lovely, aren’t they? But the moment you take these in your hand, their beauty will be eclipsed by your own.”
Emily felt her stomach churn. When he pushed the small bouquet toward her, she put her hands behind her back and shook her head. “I can’t accept these.”
He looked startled. “You took the caramels I left the other day.”
“I apologize. I shouldn’t have done that, either.” She stooped down to retrieve them from the bottom drawer and thrust them toward her unwelcome visitor.
Raymond Simmons’s hand closed around the bag, and a bewildered expression spread across his face. “I don’t understand.”
Emily picked up her pen and rolled it between her fingers. “I’m sorry if I have given you the false impression that your attentions are welcome.”
Raymond’s face darkened. “Are you saying your affections are engaged elsewhere?”
Emily opened her mouth, then shut it. She could feel the heat creeping up her neck and knew her face must be turning pink. When Raymond’s scowl deepened, she felt sure he’d noticed it, too.
“Is it that fellow I saw you talking to the other day? Who is he? I’ve never seen him before.”
His voice took on a conciliatory tone. “These are difficult times, Emily. You need someone who can give you security. How much do you know about him? Does he even have a job?”
“He is currently employed here on the fairgrounds… just as you are,” she added pointedly.
“In what capacity?”
Emily drew herself up and lifted her chin. “As one of the Columbian Guards.”
Raymond’s loud guffaw made Emily want to slap him. “My dear girl, you do realize that means he will be unemployed in a little over a month. What then? Are you willing to tie your future to someone who may not have two nickels to rub together by the fair’s end?”
His voice became smooth again. “I’m sure he is attracted to you. After all, you do have a very comely face. But what are his intentions in the long run? Men these days are taking advantage of innocent young women. Think about it, my dear. As a guard, he spends his days roaming over the entire fairgrounds. He may have half a dozen women dangling from his string, and you’re just another bauble to add to his collection.”
Emily drew back and narrowed her eyes.
Smiling as though he knew he’d struck a nerve, Raymond pressed his advantage. “What do you know about his background? Any man can look good in a uniform.”
Emily could feel her whole body tremble. In another moment she would slap him if he didn’t move out of her reach. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Mr. Simmons. I have work to do.”
A quick tap of heels sounded along the adjacent corridor. Miss Strickland rounded the corner and came to a quick halt when she saw only Emily and Raymond in the reception area. “I heard voices. It sounded like an altercation of some sort.”
Emily smoothed her skirt, hoping she appeared calmer than she felt. “There is no altercation. Mr. Simmons was just on his way out.”
Miss Strickland bestowed a toothy smile on Emily’s unwanted suitor. “So nice to see you, Mr. Simmons. Please give my regards to your father.”
Raymond looked as if he wanted to say more, but he did no more than give a quick nod to each of the women before he left.
Miss Strickland crossed her arms and stared at Emily until she wanted to shrivel up and crawl away. “Those flowers he was carrying. Were they for you?”
Emily nodded and cleared her throat. “He tried to give them to me. I wouldn’t accept them.”
“Why?”
“It wouldn’t be fair to give him the impression that I welcomed his attentions.”
Miss Strickland sniffed. “You’ll never have another opportunity like this in your life. How many chances does a girl like you have to meet a man such as Mr. Simmons, much less attract his notice? The Simmons family is well respected in this city, and you are a nobody. You should be pleased he even deigned to notice you. To turn him down the way you did—it’s absolutely foolish.”
Emily stood still under the onslaught, trying not to look as though Mrs. Strickland’s words cut like blows from a lash. When she saw that Emily wasn’t going to respond, the supervisor raised her arms in the air. “I wash my hands of this. I’ve thought from the beginning that you were a foolish girl. This confirms it. If you don’t have the sense to welcome such an opportunity when it comes your way, I have nothing more to say on the matter.”
She stormed off, and Emily sank down onto her chair, grateful the other woman had left before she could see the anguish her words had caused.
A girl like you. A simple phrase, but one that opened up a wound Emily had struggled with all her life—a deep wound she usually kept hidden under the surface but one that had never completely healed.
Memories of her time at the Collier Home flowed through her mind in an unwelcome stream: seeing children being adopted and taken home to loving families, or being reclaimed by parents who had left them there out of necessity after some family crisis.
But no one ever came for her.
She rested her elbows on her desk and pressed her palms against her cheeks, praying no one would come in to drop off or pick up a child until she regained her composure. Tears coursed down her cheeks as she remembered how she used to build up her hopes then watch some other child find a home. She knew it was because they were prettier, cleverer, or more appealing in some way she could never hope to be.
Finally she had accepted reality and given up the dream of one day meeting a family willing to accept her into its bosom.
The tears kept flowing. At least she had a few people who cared for her. She wouldn’t trade her friendship with Lucy for anything. And Mrs. Purvis was an absolute gem, almost like a mother to her. Look at the way she’d offered to take Adam under her wing. That in itself was a blessing, relieving Emily from having to worry about his well-being all day. Not that she didn’t love him—his unreserved trust had already won her heart—but the strain of trying to keep him from being discovered had worn on her more than she cared to admit.
And it was better for Adam, too. He needed all the security he could get, especially after she had to tell him his mother would never be coming home again. Spending his days with Mrs. Purvis would be almost like time spent with a grandmother. So much nicer than being just one in a crowd of other children or being the target of Miss Strickland’s wrath, should she learn of his presence in the building.
Emily shuddered. She could only imagine the invective the supervisor would have unleashed upon them both if that had occurred. She couldn’t bear to think of a little boy having to deal with that. It was hard enough to cope with the woman’s harsh tongue herself.
But as much as Miss Strickland’s hateful words hurt, Emily knew she was right. Because of some flaw she could not identify and had no idea how to correct, she would never be good enough, no matter how hard she tried.
Yet according to the minister at the church that the children from the Collier Home attended every Sunday, she was accepted by God just as she was. That promise had registered in her consciousness for the first time when she was twelve. She welcomed Jesus into her heart as her Savior with unbridled joy and clung to the promise that He loved her, even if no one else did.
Considering her recent string of half-truths, though, she wondered just how happy He was with her right now. The loneliness she usually managed to hold at bay opened before her like an abyss. She still clung to the hope of heaven, but it seemed everything she wanted in this life was on the other side of that vast gulf.
Including Stephen.
For a fleeting moment, she’d dared to hope that he might be interested in her and that his interest might flower into something deeper. But that hope had died when he saw Adam the night before. She remembered his compassion when he spoke of the dead woman and the way his features had taken on a stony, shuttered look when he learned of Emily’s duplicity.
Could she blame him? How could he trust a woman who told him less than the truth? Maybe she hadn’t out and out lied, but she’d certainly led him to believe something that wasn’t true, and wasn’t that the same thing?
Emily retrieved her reticule and fished inside it until she found her handkerchief. She used the square of cotton to blot her cheeks and wipe the tears from her eyes. She knew her ruse had ruined the possibility of building a deeper relationship with Stephen. But she had to think of Adam, not just of herself. She might not matter, but that precious little boy did. What would Stephen decide?
Lord, please let him make the right choice. The trouble was, things had gotten so mixed up that she didn’t know what the right choice would turn out to be.
Stephen walked south along the walkway in front of the Choral Building, observing the fairgoers within his view. He passed a boat landing on his left and looked across the lagoon to the Wooded Island, where couples strolled along shaded walkways. The placid scene acted like a balm to his troubled spirit, something he sorely needed, ever since the scene at the boarding house the night before when little Adam appeared in the doorway asking for Miss Em’ly.
Even more shocking than seeing the child again had been the realization that Emily had deliberately misled him as to Adam’s whereabouts.
What had she been thinking? He still didn’t understand. The proper thing would have been to notify him or one of the other Columbian Guards, who would have passed the word to the Chicago police, who in turn would have taken the boy to one of the city’s foundling homes.
Policies were set in place for a reason, based on logic and order. But everything fell apart when one individual took it upon herself to circumvent the expected sequence of events and try to deal with the issue in her own amateurish way.
He continued on past the Transportation Building, strikingly different from its dazzling white neighbors in autumn shades of red, orange, and yellow. Before him on his left, the Mining and Electricity Buildings capped the south end of the lagoon.
Had he been wrong about Emily? From the moment they met, he thought there was something different about this girl, something special. Despite their brief acquaintance, he felt drawn to her in a way he couldn’t deny. At first he’d been certain that attraction came straight from heaven. But what communion did light have with darkness? Surely God wouldn’t want him to consider being yoked with anyone who handled the truth so lightly.
Did he really want to consider the possibility of linking his lot to a woman when he would never be sure she was speaking the truth?
His route led him toward the Hayward Restaurant, where delicious aromas wafted out to scent the afternoon air. Stephen’s stomach rumbled, and he looked toward the dining establishment longingly. He couldn’t stop now, not while he was on duty. His stomach protested again.
When he reached Terminal Station, he turned left and entered the Grand Plaza. Sunlight glinted off the golden dome of the Administration Building in the center of the broad expanse.
Off to his left, he saw the white and gold Menier Chocolate Pavilion, where more delectable smells trickled out to tantalize him. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to duck inside for just a moment and pick up something to stave off his hunger until the end of his shift.
Just as he reached the door, a slender, sandy-haired man emerged, and Stephen recognized his friend Seth Howell.
The young pastor broke into a smile when he caught sight of Stephen. “Hello there! I haven’t seen you for a while.”
Stephen sent up a silent prayer of thanks. Seth was just the person to help him sort through this dilemma. Coincidence? Stephen didn’t think so.
Ignoring the rumbling of his stomach, he fell in step with Seth as he strolled across the plaza. “What brings you here?” he asked his friend. “I thought your days of pushing people around the grounds in rolling chairs were over once you became an old married man.”
Seth grinned. “I thought I’d surprise Dinah and meet her when she takes her lunch break.”
Stephen eyed the paper bag Seth carried in one hand. “So the chocolates are for Dinah?”
Seth laughed. “Sorry. They’re already spoken for.”
All right, then, he couldn’t hope for any chocolates. But maybe he could get some answers to the questions that had been plaguing him. “Do you expect her to come out soon?”
“It’ll probably be a little while yet. I got here early to make sure I didn’t miss her.”
Stephen looked around the busy plaza and took a deep breath. “If you don’t mind talking while you wait, I’m in need of some godly counsel.”
Interest sparked in Seth’s eyes. “I’m honored you consider my advice in that category. Why don’t we go over there”—he pointed toward a spot near the entrance to Terminal Station—“so you don’t have to compete with the music they’re playing in the bandstand.”
They found a spot with a clear view of the doors of the Administration Building. Seth eyed Stephen for a moment then held out the bag of chocolates. “I guess it won’t hurt if you eat just one.”
Stephen hesitated only a moment before he reached into the bag and helped himself. He could think better if he wasn’t quite so hungry. The smooth confection melted over his tongue.
“Now what’s on your mind?” Seth asked.
Stephen paused to savor the last taste of the sweet chocolate before he answered. “I find myself in a bit of a moral dilemma.”
Seth gave a barely perceptible start. “Tell me about it.”
“I met this girl,” Stephen began. He stopped when he saw his friend’s wary expression. “No, it isn’t what you think. You see, there’s a child involved.”
Seth’s jaw sagged, and Stephen hastened to add, “It isn’t mine.”
The explanation didn’t seem to clear things up. Seth stared at him, glassy-eyed. “I believe we’re going to need more time to hash this out than I have available before Dinah comes along.”
“I’m not doing this well at all.” Stephen scrubbed his hand across his face. “The child isn’t hers, either.”
Seth reached into the bag and popped a chocolate into his mouth. “I think you lost me there.”
Stephen went back over the whole story, beginning with taking Adam to the Children's Building and ending with his visit to the boarding house the night before, when Emily’s subterfuge came to light.
Seth chewed slowly and held the bag out to Stephen once more. Stephen took another chocolate and waited for his friend to speak.
Seth stroked his chin. “Does she strike you as the kind of person who lies habitually?”
Stephen took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. “That’s just it. Up until last night, I would have sworn there wasn’t a deceitful bone in her body.” He settled the hat back on his head and adjusted the chin strap. “I guess that just goes to show you can’t trust first impressions.”
