Daylight Comes (22 page)

Her father chuckled softly, holding the pipe stem between his teeth. Macia knew what he was thinking; at least she thought she knew. He was likely remembering the many times when she’d objected to his fatherly decisions—particularly his decision to move west. She knew now his judgment had been sound. She shuddered to think what her life would have been like had she married Jackson Kincaid, the beau she’d had back in Kentucky.

Macia tied the black satin ribbons that edged the collar of her dark gray cape. “You’ll talk to Mr. Faraday this afternoon—before you come home for supper?”

“As long as you and Camille realize this may prove to be a futile effort.”

Macia retrieved her reticule from atop the desk. “I have faith in your ability, Father. I’ll look forward to hearing what Mr. Faraday has to say for himself.”

CHAPTER
26

M
acia shifted in her chair. She’d thought supper would never end. Then, to make matters worse, her mother hadn’t gone directly to bed after supper as she usually did; she’d decided to remain downstairs and stitch on her latest piece of needlepoint. Macia had attempted to lure her father into his library for a private conversation, but he hadn’t seemed to get the hint. If she was to hear her father’s report about his conversation with Mr. Faraday, she’d be forced to wait until her mother retired for the night. She’d tried to read, but lacked the ability to concentrate. The few times she’d been able to catch her father’s eye, he had merely smiled and continued reading his paper.

When she could bear the waiting no longer, she asked to be excused. “I believe I’ll go upstairs and prepare for bed.”

Her mother folded her needlepoint and placed it in her sewing basket. “Excellent idea, my dear. I believe I’ll go upstairs, too.” Mrs.

Boyle kissed her husband and then took Macia by the hand.

“Macia,” Mr. Boyle said, “would you consider fetching me a glass of buttermilk before you go upstairs?”

“Buttermilk?” she asked.

He nodded and winked. Evidently he was going to tell her about his meeting with Mr. Faraday. She kissed her mother good-night and hurried off to the kitchen. Stretching, she reached to retrieve a glass from the upper shelf of the cupboard as her father entered the room.

He replaced the glass. “Merely a ruse, my dear. I do not want a glass of buttermilk.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “Let’s go into my library and talk.”

Macia settled into one of the comfortable overstuffed chairs and wrapped a wool throw around her shoulders. No fire had been started in the room, and the March winds seeped through the windows, leaving the library very chilly.

Dr. Boyle rubbed his hands together. “A bit cold in here this evening.” He eased into a nearby chair.

Without fanfare, he told her what she’d been waiting to hear. He’d met with Mr. Faraday. As her father had expected, the pharmacist denied misusing any medicine and stated he understood the liquor laws. Mr. Faraday had said he couldn’t imagine who was passing along erroneous information.

“Mr. Faraday appeared genuinely affronted by the accusations.”

Her father rested his elbows on his knees as he leaned toward her. “I’d like to believe I’ve wrongly accused him, but I fear he’s a man who has lost control over his life. Like those who have need of alcohol coursing through their bloodstream, Mr. Faraday is obsessed with his gambling. And until he admits he has a problem, there is little anyone can do to help him.”

Macia’s shoulders collapsed as she listened to her father’s verdict. She knew he was correct, yet she longed to carry some words of encouragement to Camille. Drawing the wool throw close around her neck, Macia wondered what it would take before Mr. Faraday changed his ways.

Her teeth chattered as she slowly rose from the chair. There was nothing more to discuss. She would talk to Camille in the morning.

“Thank you for trying, Father.”

He took her hands and held them between his own. “Pray for him, Macia. That’s all we can do at this juncture.”

She knew her father was correct, yet she wondered if Mrs. Faraday, Camille, and Jonas didn’t deserve her prayers more than Mr. Faraday!

“I’ll answer the door.” Macia tucked a blond curl behind one ear and waved to Gerta.

Gerta’s rosy cheeks rounded into the shape of two ripe apples as she thanked Macia. She realized how peaceful their home had become since Fern’s departure. With her sweet disposition and constant smile, Gerta made a pleasant addition to their family.

A lace curtain covered the door’s oval window, obscuring Macia’s view. Although she couldn’t clearly distinguish who stood on the other side, she knew the caller was a woman—unless men had taken to wearing skirts. Her wandering thoughts immediately dissipated when she pulled open the door. “Camille! Whatever is the matter?” Startled by her friend’s ashen complexion and solemn countenance, Macia tugged her forward. “Come in. We’re having breakfast—come join us.”

Camille touched her right hand to her stomach. “I couldn’t bear to eat right now, but if your father is here, may I speak with him?”

Macia reached to remove Camille’s cape from her shoulders, but her friend shook her head. “I can’t stay. I must get back home to Mother.”

Macia led the way into the dining room, thankful her own mother had decided to take breakfast upstairs this morning. There would be fewer questions. Her father’s eyes widened as the two young women entered the room. He pushed his chair away from the table, but Camille waved for him to remain seated.

Macia nodded to Gerta and the servant immediately scurried from the room. Taking Camille by the arm, Macia seated their visitor to her father’s left. While Macia sat down across the table, Camille perched on the edge of a tapestry-covered chair as though ready to take flight.

Dr. Boyle looked back and forth between the two young ladies. “Is someone going to tell me what this is about or am I supposed to guess?”

Camille traced her finger across the edge of the linen tablecloth. “My father has disappeared. He’s gone—for good, I fear.”

“What’s that? Someone’s disappeared? A kidnapping or runaway?” Harvey burst into the room, his eyes alight with excitement. When he noticed Camille, his features grew somber. “Sorry, Camille. I didn’t realize . . .” Harvey dropped into the chair beside Camille.

“We’re discussing a confidential matter, Harvey.” Macia motioned for him to leave.

But her brother didn’t budge from the table. Instead, he took Camille’s hand and patted it as though he’d been soothing distraught damsels all of his life. “How can we help you, Camille? Who has gone missing?”

She hesitated, but Harvey nodded his encouragement.

“This must remain confidential.” Her words were no more than a whisper. “Nothing in the newspaper.”

Harvey’s features remained solemn as he pledged his agreement.

Camille fished a handkerchief from her pocket as she began the story. “Father came home for supper in a foul mood last evening. He ate in silence. Soon after, he departed, saying he’d be late and my mother should go on to bed.” Her voice grew softer, and she dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief. “I never heard him return, but he must have come home sometime during the night, for all of his clothing and personal items are missing from the house.”

“Are you absolutely certain?” When Camille stated that she was, Dr. Boyle massaged his forehead. “I shouldn’t have gone and talked to him. Perhaps none of this would have occurred.”

“No. I’m the one who asked for your assistance, Dr. Boyle. You wouldn’t have spoken to Father had it not been at my urging.” Camille didn’t linger over the news of her father’s absence for long. “If we’re unable to continue operating the pharmacy, we’ll lose everything. I’ve learned a great deal working alongside my father, and if you will lend me assistance as needed, I believe we can eventually turn a profit.”

“You’ll be willing to help, won’t you?” Macia looked pleadingly at her father.

“I believe it would be best if I spoke directly with your mother, Camille. I wouldn’t want to undermine any plans she might have for the future.”

Camille’s shoulders drooped. “I suppose I have no choice. Thank you, Dr. Boyle. And I’m sorry to have interrupted your breakfast.”

Macia pushed away from the table as her friend prepared to depart, but Harvey shooed his sister aside. “I’ll see Camille to the door. You and Father can proceed with your breakfast.”

Her father chased a forkful of scrambled eggs across his plate.

“Hmm, cold.” His lip curled after he’d swallowed the eggs. “I think I’ll settle for bread and jam instead.”

Macia passed the bread plate to her father. “I didn’t realize Harvey and Camille had become more than friends. Did you know?”

Her father took a thick slice of crusty bread from the plate. He shrugged as he liberally spread the bread with layers of butter and strawberry jam. “I knew Harvey was interested in her; I didn’t know if Camille had feelings for him. From the looks they exchanged just now, it would seem that she does.”

Macia picked up a piece of limp bacon but then put it back on her plate. Likely it would be no more appetizing than the cold eggs.

“Seems I’m always the last to know what’s going on.”

Her father chuckled. “Now, I doubt—”

“Father! Come quick!” Harvey’s shout echoed down the hallway.

Dr. Boyle jumped to his feet and raced toward the front door. Harvey and Camille stood on the front porch, anxiously pointing in the direction of the river. “Mr. Johnson says for you to hurry. And bring your bag! There’s been an accident down at the river.”

Without stopping to put on her coat, Macia rushed outdoors. She folded her arms across her chest and hastily rubbed them to ward off the icy chill in the air. She had hoped for more information, but when she could gain nothing further from her brother, she returned indoors.

Her father had already shrugged into his heavy coat. Macia handed him his fleece-lined leather gloves as he grabbed his medical bag from the table and then hurried out of the house.

Could one of the children have skipped school and gone ice fishing or skating at the river? Though the weather remained cold, the ice had probably begun to melt near the middle, where the men and boys tried their luck at catching the big ones and the skaters attempted their pirouettes. She shivered at the thought of someone falling through the ice and sent a fleeting prayer heavenward. Perhaps her father would find nothing more than a stranded animal that had fallen through the ice. Folks didn’t hesitate to call on her father to tend their sick farm animals when no one else was available.

Macia walked down the hallway and then turned back. She donned her heavy coat and a pair of woolen mittens. “I’m going down to the river, Gerta.” Before the housekeeper could reply, Macia hastened outdoors.

The stinging air was cold on her cheeks and she panted for breath. As the cold air seared her aching lungs, she slowed her pace. Rounding the corner of her house, she spied one of the Morris children outside the general store.

She waved to him and then rubbed her hands together, hoping to warm her fingers. “Why aren’t you in school today, Melvin?”

The towheaded boy’s grin revealed two missing front teeth. “Mrs. Markley’s sick, so there’s no school the rest of the week.” He hopped from foot to foot. “I’m waiting to see if they got Lucy outta the river. My ma said I couldn’t go no closer than the general store.”

Lucy!
Macia nearly swooned at the revelation. “Lucy
Malone
?” She grasped the boy by the lapels of his checkered wool coat. “Are you sure?”

The boy’s ruddy cheeks paled. “Yes, ma’am. That’s what Mr. Johnson said, and Lucy Malone is the only Lucy in town.”

She let go of his jacket. A brisk north wind catapulted tiny shards of sleet, and Macia bowed low against the onslaught. Fear gripped her heart as she hurried onward, her leather soles slipping on the patches of ice and snow along the way. Macia now wished she had taken time to change into her boots. The men’s voices drifted toward her as she neared the riverbank. A sense of urgency tinged the men’s shouted commands, and dread enfolded Macia like a burial shroud.

When she finally caught sight of the men, they were clustered along the river’s edge. Her father was on his knees, bending over someone—most likely Lucy. Macia’s heart hammered in her chest as she continued down the path. The packed snow had been worn into an icy path, and she felt herself slip-slide forward, her arms flailing at her sides as she attempted to remain upright. Jeb turned as she approached the group of men. He pulled her close, and she saw the fear in his eyes.

“Lucy?”

He nodded. “Your father says she’s going to make it.”

The chill wind tried to freeze the stream of tears that now flowed down her cheeks, and she buried her face in Jeb’s wool jacket. He held her, his arms strong and reassuring as he whispered into her ear. “She’s going to be fine, Macia. Your father said she would recover.”

Macia knew her father wouldn’t give Jeb unfounded hope, yet that thought didn’t totally eradicate her fear. She needed to see Lucy for herself. “Has she spoken at all?” She lifted her head from his chest.

“Not yet.”

Macia pushed her way forward, where Lucy lay wrapped in blankets while her father diligently checked her breathing.

“Jeb!” Dr. Boyle called. “Her breathing is regular. Let’s get her in the wagon and back to my office.”

“Please come with me,” Jeb implored Macia.

“Of course.”

Jeb carried Lucy to the wagon and climbed in, folding his legs under himself so he could sit and hold Lucy close. Harvey helped Macia into the back of the wagon and she settled in beside Jeb, leaning over Lucy and whispering to her as tears welled in her eyes. When the wagon lurched forward, she looked out upon the gathered group of men. Garrett was staring at her. When their eyes met, she turned away, unable to discern if what she had observed was condemnation, anger, or jealousy. However, there was no doubt Garrett was unhappy.

But surely he could understand her concern was for Lucy’s welfare and not for Jeb. Or was it for both of them? As she watched Jeb lovingly hold his sister in his arms, she couldn’t be certain.

Lucy’s first words were an apology to her brother, immediately followed by a plea for Macia to remain with her.

“I’m not planning on going anywhere.” Macia grinned at the girl. “It seems you’ve become my father’s primary patient. No sooner does he get your leg healed than you heave yourself into the icy river water.” She brushed a kiss upon the girl’s cheek. “I don’t know what we’re going to do with you.”

“Nor do I.” Jeb’s voice cracked.

“Don’t cry, Jeb. I’m going to be fine. I feel plenty good already— just a little cold.” Lucy began to lift the blanket away. “See? I can—” “I’ll have none of that, young lady.” Dr. Boyle immediately stepped forward and tucked the blanket around his young patient.