Diamond Duo (25 page)

Bertha gasped. “For heaven’s sake, Annie, those are far too costly. I could never accept.”

Annie met her eyes. “Sadly, I could never offer, or Abe would kill me for sure. He’s tried every trick in the book to get his hands on my diamonds.” Her jaw tightened. “Not that I care two hoots about any of my jewelry, but it’s the only thing left he hasn’t taken.”

She gave a twisted smile, her gaze on the rings. “Besides, if he ever walks out on me, I’ll have these to fall back on. I could at least trade them for a meal.”

“They’re worth a sight more than a meal, Annie.”

Annie closed her eyes and shook her head, as if coming out of a trance. “I think it’s getting late. How long have we been here?”

Bertha stepped to the end of the building to look at the empty street. The chill wind whipping around the corner almost took her breath, and a light drizzle had started. “Way too long.” She ducked in the alley and took Annie’s arm. “Come. Let me take you home with me. You can have my bed, and I’ll take the chaise. Don’t worry–I can fall asleep anywhere, even sitting upright in a chair.”

Annie gave her a sidelong glance. “What are you thinking, Bertha? Your folks won’t allow you to drag someone like me in off the streets, and you know it.” She waved at her clothes. “Especially in a getup like this.”

“They will if I explain.”

“Oh, sugar, can’t you just hear that? ‘Mama, I’ve brought this beaten, half-dressed trollop home to sleep in my bed. I just know you won’t mind.’ ”

Bertha imagined explaining Annie to Mama. She couldn’t conceive of it. Still. . .

Annie must’ve read the struggle in her eyes. “Don’t give it another thought. I know it’s out of the question. Besides, if I don’t go back, it’ll just make matters worse.”

Bertha clutched at her hands. “Annie–”

“He’s asleep by now. Passed out, I should say. He won’t hurt me any more tonight.”

“What about tomorrow night? And the next?”

“Stop worrying about me, little Bertha. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time. Let me get back to the room before Abe wakes up. With any luck, he’ll be sick in the morning after all he drank and stay in bed all day. That’ll be fine with me, because there’s nothing better to do in this horrid rain. You get up on that horse and go home before your parents send a search party.”

Bertha hugged her and for some reason hated to turn her loose. “Let me walk you back to the hotel, at least.”

“No, sweetie. I can’t be seen with you.”

The words made Bertha’s stomach ache. “If you say so, but please be careful.”

“I thought we decided you’d stop fretting over me.”

Bertha shook her head. “I decided no such thing.” She squeezed the hand where Annie held the cross. “Do you promise to think about what I said?”

“I promise. We’ll talk some more tomorrow. All right?”

Bertha tried to hide her pleasure but couldn’t. She smiled so widely her cheeks hurt. “I’ll hold you to that. Good night, Annie.”

“Good night, little Bertha. Now go!”

Back in the saddle, Bertha mouthed a silent prayer when Annie waved and then slipped into the darkness. She whirled her horse into the street and headed for home at a full gallop, unsure of the hour or how much time had passed while they huddled in the alley. She only knew she had fulfilled her duty to God and Annie, so whatever remained of the night belonged to Thad. She’d find a way to make it up to him, and they’d spend every possible hour together until he left.

Nearing her lane, she jumped the narrow ditch to cut the corner and thundered toward the house. At the gate, she leaped to the ground and led her horse to the porch. She expected Thad would have tied his horse out front, but it wasn’t there. She told herself it had to be in the barn, had to be somewhere.

“Bertha?”

Her hand froze on the hitching post. “Papa, I didn’t see you. What are you doing out in this weather?”

“You took the words right out of me mouth. I hope you have a reasonable explanation for turning our hair gray this night. Mama is beside herself, Bertha. She’s taken to her bed.”

Bertha rushed to join him on the porch. “Where’s Thad?”

“And that’s what frets you, daughter? No spare word of concern
for your dear mother, after what I’ve just told you?”

Bertha ducked her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry her.”

He didn’t answer, so Bertha sneaked a peek at his face then recoiled in shock. “Oh, mercy. You’re not crying–?”

He swiped angrily at his eyes. “Mama wasn’t the only one worried, you know.” He took her by the shoulders and gave a gentle shake. “Where were you, girl? With you all a-flutter over young Thad’s visit, it made no sense that you’d leave.”

“Where is he, Papa?”

Papa looked grim. “Where is he, you wonder? Well, that makes two of us.”

Her stomach lurched. “What do you mean? Didn’t he show up?”

“He came, all right, and found you gone.” He tucked in his chin and furrowed his brow. “Are you saying Thad never found you? That you haven’t been with him this night?”

“Of course not. You’re making no sense at all.”

“Bertha, Thad rode off to search for you but never returned. For his dear mama’s sake, I pray he’s at home warming his backside at the hearth.”

Bertha’s head reeled. She tried hard to grasp what he had said, to lay all the facts in a neat row and sort them out, but they wouldn’t line up. Each time she tried, the only important detail rose to the top and consumed her. She had to find Thad.

“I’ll explain everything. I will. The minute I return. But I have to go bring him back.” She brushed a hasty kiss across Papa’s cheek and rushed down the steps, making it clear to the hitching post before he bellowed from the porch.

“Bertha Maye Biddie! Kindly march yourself right back. You won’t be going anywhere else tonight.”

Unwilling to believe her ears, she turned. “You can’t mean it.”

“Oh, I mean it.”

She shook her head. “But I must.”

“No, miss. Not without good reason. And I’ve heard not a reason, explanation, or apology from you tonight.”

An apology would be easy. She hadn’t meant to hurt them. If
he wanted an explanation, she had one of those, too. Could she find fit words to give it?

She hustled back to the porch and blurted out a short account of her story with the promise to fill in the gaps later. Papa’s hurt, angry expression changed to sympathy and understanding as she spoke of her mission to save Annie.

When she finished with another plea to go after Thad, Papa set his stubborn jaw and shook his head. “Mama will have my gizzard on a spit.”

“Papa, please. This is the most important night of my life. Can’t you at least ask?”

Releasing his breath in a rush, he nodded. “All right, then. I’ll speak to her. I suppose I need to tell her you’re home before she frets herself sick.”

Bertha wanted to mention he’d bawled her name loudly enough to alert Mama and half of Jefferson of her whereabouts. One look at his face, and she decided against it.

Papa opened the door then turned and wagged his finger. “Don’t expect miracles.”

She raised her brows. “Too late. I need a miracle with all that’s at stake.”

He disappeared inside but returned right away, his heavy foot-steps echoing through the house. It didn’t bode well for her cause. It meant Mama wasn’t in the market for Francis Biddie’s blarney.

The screen opened and Papa joined her on the porch. “Her mind is made up. She absolutely forbids it.”

Bertha’s head expected the answer, but her heart clung to hope. “No. Please go try again.”

“She’s in no mood for it, daughter.”

Bertha stamped her foot in anger, and frustration loosened her lips. “Who wears the trousers in this family anyway?”

Silence. Papa held her gaze, but shame veiled his eyes. Bertha bit her bottom lip and wished she’d bitten her tongue. When she uttered the unimaginable words, she’d leaped a forbidden line and didn’t quite know her way back across.

She touched his arm. “Oh, Papa, I’m so sorry.”

He patted her shoulder. “No, sprite. It’s a fair question. And here’s your answer, since you asked. Your mama herself wears the trousers and holds me on a short tether. I allow it because otherwise it’s impossible to live with her.”

Considering the amount of time Bertha spent dancing around Mama’s ire, his words plucked a familiar chord. She’d never considered her papa a fellow survivor of Emeline Biddie, the whirlwind. Seeing him as such forged a kinship that had little to do with blood ties.

“I did try, Bertha. I even asked if I could fetch Thad for you. She said it’s unseemly to disturb the family at this hour.”

Bertha crumpled onto the porch swing. “Blast unseemly! When I’m mistress of a house, I’ll make my own rules. I’ll talk as I wish, dress as I wish, go where I want, when I want, and never, ever wear shoes. If my daughter asks for something important to her, I’ll care more about her feelings than the opinions of others.” She lifted wet, sorrowful eyes to his. “I will, Papa. I swear it.”

He laid a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Don’t stay out much longer, darlin’. There’s a cold wind a-blowin’.” Then he stepped quietly to the door and went inside.

Bertha sat on the damp, drafty porch remembering how glad she’d been such a short time ago. The song she’d warbled to her empty room while dressing for Thad rose up to mock her.

Why does gladness cheer me?

Why everything so bright?

With a heavy heart, she crowded the song from her mind with more fitting lyrics.

Wilt thou be gone, love, wilt thou be gone from me?

Gone, I must be gone, love, I must be gone from thee.

She stood up and walked into the house, furious with her parents, Annie, and God.

Sunday, January 21

B
ertha opened her eyes and grimaced. Her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth and covered with a thick, unpleasant coat–one part mint and three parts glue. The Sozodont. The peppermint-stick flavor of the tooth powder never hinted at the hideous aftertaste. She groaned and struggled to free her arm from the quilt pulled up to her shoulders and saw the green cotton sleeve of her favorite dress. Why was she in bed fully dressed?

A strong sense of urgency fairly lifted her from the mattress, but she couldn’t imagine why. She threw back the cover she’d fumbled for sometime in the night and swung her feet to the floor, shaking the fog from her head so she could think.

“Papa!” she shrieked, scrambling across the cold floor for her shoes. “Papa, come quick!”

Her parents’ startled faces appeared at the door. Papa, still bare-foot and dressed in his nightshirt, rushed to her side. “What is it, child? Are you ailing?”

“I need you to take me to Thad’s house right away.”

Mama, her robe pulled hastily over her gown and her hair tied
up in curls with strips of cloth, slumped against the door frame. “Bertha, for heaven’s sake.”

“I got the idea last night. If we get there before he leaves for the station, we can go with the Blooms to see him off. Mama, I knew you wouldn’t allow me to go alone, but Papa can drive me.”

Papa rubbed the stubble on his chin. “It’s a mite early, darlin’. What time does Thad’s train leave?”

“I don’t know. That’s the trouble.”

Mama squinted down at her. “Don’t tell me you slept in your clothes.”

Embarrassed, Bertha looked away. “With time so precious, I didn’t want to waste it getting dressed.” She finished fastening her shoes, a pair she’d picked to gain her mama’s favor. “I must see Thad before he goes–to explain about last night and ask him to forgive me.”

She stood up and reached for her shawl. “Hurry and dress, Papa. I’ll go hitch the wagon.”

Mama clamped a hand on her arm as she passed. “Just a minute, young lady. No daughter of mine will go calling on a young man uninvited, and so early on a Sunday morning.”

Papa, who had watched from the door without comment, cleared his throat and leveled a warning look at Mama.

Mama watched his face for a second then nodded and gave Bertha a weak smile. “I meant to say, no daughter of mine will go calling on a young man at this hour–without first washing her face and combing her hair.”

Bertha cried out and jumped up to hug her. “Thank you, Mama.”

Mama pulled back and made a face. “You might want to use some of your minty tooth powder while you’re at it, dear.”

Bertha covered her mouth. “I’m afraid the powder might be part of the problem. I’ll rinse with water and chew a sprig of parsley on the way.” She gave her papa a gentle push toward the door. “Go dress, please. My entire future hangs on how quickly you can slip into your trousers.”

He grinned and rocked on his heels, his thumbs hooked in imaginary suspenders. “I’ll go, but did you happen to notice who’s back in rightful possession of his trousers?”

Mama frowned, so he gave her a playful swat on the bottom. “No sass out of you, Mrs. Biddie. And by the by, I’ll expect breakfast on the table when I return. Eggs, fried bread, and black pudding will do nicely.” He planted a kiss on her check and sauntered to the door.

Horrified, Bertha froze, waiting for the anger, the shock and outrage, the whirlwind to spin off and consume him. To her amaze-ment, Mama’s face softened, and she smiled like a smitten girl. When she saw Bertha watching, she ducked her head and followed Papa out the door, as tame as an autumn breeze.