SEDUCTIVE SUPERNATURALS: 12 Tales of Shapeshifters, Vampires & Sexy Spirits (207 page)

Lizabeth finally turned and ran down the stairs.

Taylor returned her attention to the injured girl, who was beginning to stir from her faint. “Fill the bowl with cold water and put it on the floor...here. And bring me some more towels.” She pointed to the sink. “Now!”

This time, the rest of the girls obeyed without hesitation. She placed more towels under Audrey’s arm, hoping to reduce the swelling that had already begun. She soon had cold, wet towels placed on her arm and cheek.

Suddenly Audrey’s eyes fluttered open in painful surprise. “My face! Oh, my face!” Her hand flew up to touch her injured cheek, and Taylor deftly caught it in mid-air.

“Listen to me. You’re fine. The water burned you, but it’s not a bad burn.”

Audrey began to whimper, tears rolling slowly down her face.

“It’s going to be fine. Don’t worry. Look how everyone is helping.” The other girls had surrounded Audrey, each on their knees. “And here’s Lizabeth with our ice chips. Good job. They’re perfect,” she said as she put half the chips into a soft clean dish cloth and removed the damp towels from the girl’s cheek and arm. They had already warmed dramatically from the heat of the burned skin.

Audrey looked questioningly, but allowed her to place the cold pack on her cheek.

“Lizabeth, put the rest of the chips in the other dish cloth for Audrey’s arm.”

Lizabeth quickly complied, carefully placing the second ice pack on the reddest part of Audrey’s upper arm.

“The pain should be lessening. Is it starting to feel better?” Taylor brushed a stray honey blonde curl from Audrey’s forehead. She could see the fear in her eyes, and how devastating the thought of a scarred face would be to her.

“It’s better,” Audrey whispered.

Taylor lifted the ice pack long enough to take another look at the burned cheek. “It shouldn’t even blister,” she said, “I think we got the ice on it quick enough—thanks to Lizabeth.”

Audrey smiled, obviously relieved. “I never heard of putting ice on a burn, before. Won’t my skin freeze?”

Taylor recognized that her twentieth century first aid methods were clearly not the current treatment for burns. She didn’t care. If she hadn’t used the ice, there would have been at least some blistering on Audrey’s face, and her delicate skin would probably have scarred.

“Doesn’t the cold make it feel better, Audrey?” Taylor hoped she would just accept the fact that the pain had decreased and not question her method any further.

“Does it really feel better, Audrey?” Lizabeth asked.

“Yes,” she answered, smiling. “It hardly hurts at all, now. How long does the ice stay on?”

“Just a few minutes longer,” Taylor reassured her, “Just until the fire is out of the burn. You just relax for a few minutes. You’re going to be just fine.”

The group of worried young women breathed a collective sigh of relief. They busied themselves mopping up the spilled water, refilling the bucket for the stove, and taking the wet cloths out to the laundry. One by one they left the bathroom, finally convinced that everything was under control and their friend was going to be all right.

Taylor looked up to see Lizabeth hesitating in the doorway. “You want to stay and help?” She could see that she was curious and still concerned about Audrey.

Lizabeth nodded. “What can I do?”

“Let’s take a peek first,” Taylor said, lifting away the ice packs. “What do you think?”

“It looks red still, but different.”

“We’ll leave the cold off for a little while now, and see if the pain returns. If it does, then the ice goes back on.”

Lizabeth knelt down beside Audrey and held her hand. “How does it feel, Audrey? Better?”

“It hardly hurts at all, now. I was so scared...”

“I know,” Taylor said, “a burn on the face is bound to scare anyone. You did just fine, though. Do you want to try sitting up?”

Audrey carefully sat up and gave Lizabeth a quick hug, “Thanks, Lizzie, I’m glad you were here.”

“I’m just so glad everything turned out all right. Thanks to Rose, that is. And you be more careful with these buckets, too,” Lizabeth scolded.

“Audrey, promise me you’ll just rest today and tomorrow, and I’m sure you’ll be just fine. A burn is a shock to the system. I’ll check on you tomorrow.” Taylor could see that the redness was already diminishing, and Audrey’s burns would probably not even need a dressing.
Thank goodness for the icebox.

“Rose, are you a healer?” Lizabeth stared at Taylor with a serious expression. “Can you teach me?”

Taylor stared back at the girl. She’d already influenced how this group of women would think about treating burns for the rest of their lives. She needed to be careful. “Actually, I’m really just a gardener. Plain and simple. I just read somewhere you should try to take the fire out of a burn to prevent blisters...and I thought ice would do a good job. It sure worked, huh?”

Audrey and Lizabeth nodded.

“Now you make sure she rests, Lizabeth. I’m counting on you. Now, off to bed with you, Audrey, and I’ll look in on you tomorrow. I’ll finish cleaning up in here.”

Taylor watched the two girls walk down the hall and out of sight. With the rest of the wet towels dropped off into the laundry baskets, she returned to the kitchen to sweep up the shattered teacup, wondering if she might find a replacement at a store in town.

Now she was determined, and the thought of returning to the streets of San Diego was appealing. She returned to her room and chose a simple skirt and blouse to wear. Looking in the mirror, she was again surprised how she was becoming more and more accustomed to her appearance. As a final touch, she added the long hair to the back of her head. Satisfied, she slipped some money into her pocket and walked down the front stairs.

* * *

“How can we help you today, miss?”

After several inquiries of passersby as to where she might go for a single teacup, Taylor found her way back to the same store where Jackson had picked up his vest. This time, though, the shopkeeper was much more attentive.

“Were you interested in a new gown or perhaps a new bonnet?” Charlie asked.

“Actually,” she said, holding out a piece of Ida’s broken teacup, “I need to replace this cup. You wouldn’t happen to have this pattern in stock, would you?”

Charlie took the piece of delicate china from her. “Let me check for you. I’ll be a few minutes, though, because my china storage is way in the back. Please feel free to browse.” The shopkeeper smiled and soon disappeared through a curtained doorway.

Just as she turned to examine some books on a shelf nearby, she heard the bell on the door jingle as a customer entered the shop. She recognized the man as Mr. Johnson, the father of the vagabond family from Mrs. Reed’s café. He looked well-scrubbed and quite happy. Such a contrast to when she’d first seen him.

“Afternoon, miss.”

“Good afternoon. I’m afraid the shopkeeper is in the back looking for a teacup for me.”

“Not to worry. I’m in no hurry today. My name’s Johnson, by the way. My family and I just moved here from Kansas. Have you been in San Diego a while?” Mr. Johnson extended his hand to Taylor.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Johnson,” said Taylor as she extended her own hand. “I’m Rose Martin, and I’ve just been here a short while myself. It certainly is an exciting city, though.”

“I’ll agree with you there, Miss Martin. My family and I have had nothing but good luck since we arrived here. We have jobs and a place to stay and my children are as happy as can be. In fact, I’m here to buy some supplies for Mrs. Reed. Do you know her?”

Taylor hesitated. “Well, I’ve eaten at her café—”

“Well, I’m her new baker,” he interrupted, “so I hope you’ll drop in to try some of my sweet breads and pastries. And my wife is her new bookkeeper.”

Mr. Johnson’s eyes filled with pride when he mentioned his wife, and Taylor could see the sparkle of true love there. “I will,” she promised. “Would Mrs. Reed sell me a loaf today?”

“Don’t know for sure, but I’ll bet she’ll start soon. I used to sell my bread every Friday back home. People liked someone else doin’ all the work, that’s for sure. I ended up taking orders to keep up with the demand.”

Taylor smiled. She couldn’t help feeling pleased at the impact she’d had on him and his family at the café. She mentally made a note to stop by the café soon to check on the rest of his family.

“You’re in luck, miss,” Charlie said, suddenly appearing at the counter with teacup in hand. “We had your pattern tucked away in the last box I checked.”

Relieved, she paid him for her purchase and wished both men a good afternoon. On the busy street, she heard a clock chiming four. She’d have just enough time to slip the cup into the china cabinet and freshen up before Ida returned at five. She was looking forward to her evening with Maylee and the chance to “dress-up” and meet the high society of San Diego.

Forever Rose: Chapter Twelve

Ida carefully pinned a short fall of perfect, mahogany-colored sausage curls onto the back of Taylor’s head, giving it a little tug to confirm its secure attachment. “Now, let me fasten the necklace and you’re all set.”

Taylor stood patiently, marveling at Ida’s effortless ability to transform her into a refined, Victorian lady. She gazed into the mirror in disbelief. Before her was a stranger—a very feminine woman draped in yards of shiny, pale blue satin that cascaded behind her in a shimmering waterfall of cloth. Her hair was brushed back from her face so it blended in with the brown hairpiece that hung in flawless curls to the nape of her neck. Ida’s elegant silver and pearl necklace lay delicately around her neck, drawing attention to the heart-shaped neckline that was accented with delicate white lace. The bodice of the dress fastened in back with many small glass buttons and fit as though it were molded to her body.

For the first time in her life, she felt elegant and very ladylike. She had been always been more of a tomboy growing up and had definitely lacked the benefits of a female role model during her teenage years. Her father had always provided a listening ear, but she had mostly resorted to searching the downtown library for books that would answer her questions about men, relationships, sex, and love. When she looked in the mirror, she was surprised at the reflection of pure femininity.

“Rose, you look wonderful. I knew this dress would be perfect on you. It’s a couple of years old, but the style is still acceptable, I’d say, and certainly sophisticated enough to serve the guests of Mr. Shepard tonight.” Ida walked in a circle around Taylor, pausing to smooth and readjust the skirt.

“Well, I sure won’t be able to eat anything—I’ll burst my buttons. Are you positive it doesn’t look too tight?”

“It’s supposed to fit snug,” Ida said, “and it fits you like a glove, my dear, like it was made for you.” She sighed and a dreamy look glazed her eyes for an instant. “I envy your youth, Rose. You have your whole life ahead of you. Before you know it, the wrinkles come and no one thinks you’re beautiful anymore.”

Taylor noticed the change in her voice. “Are you happy, Ida? I mean, you have your own...business and...” Taylor paused. “At least you have your independence, right?”

Ida laughed. “Yes, Rose, I do have my independence—as long as Madame Ida stays three steps ahead of the law, that is.” She looked at herself in the mirror, stroking her neck, maybe searching for the beginnings of a double chin. “And I was smart enough to know when to stop
doing
and start managing. My girls are happy here with me, I think. I pay them a good salary. I keep them safe. Sherman House has been good for all of us, I guess. I just hope this town keeps growing, then I’ll be set for life.”

Taylor gave her a quick hug. “You’re still beautiful, Ida. And look what magic you make for your homely gardener.”

Ida stared at her and then burst out laughing. “You are a strange one, Rose. And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with the way you normally look. But, I’ll admit it’s been a pleasure for me to help you look more like a—well, perhaps like a San Diego socialite—like dressing up a doll, I suppose. You have plenty of good features, you know, and you just need to learn to look at yourself a little differently. Femininity is not defined by your gown or your hair. It comes from within, from liking yourself. From learning more about yourself. Now you scoot downstairs and wait for Maylee. It’s almost time for you to go.”

Taylor followed Ida down the front stairs to wait. Within moments she was seated next to Maylee inside a fancy, black carriage on her way to Mr. Shepard’s home.

Maylee’s non-stop chattering made the trip go quickly, and her excitement grew as they neared their destination.

“Now, Rose, all you need to do is smile and serve the refreshments to the guests as they assemble in the Music Room. Mr. Shepard is a bit odd, sometimes, but his parties are the talk of the town. I’ll be downstairs in the kitchen, most of the evening.”

Taylor gazed out the window of the carriage and gasped, startled to see a familiar building come into view. “Maylee, is that where we’re going?”

“Why, yes. They call it the Villa Montezuma. Isn’t it grand?”

Taylor recognized the bizarre two-story Victorian mansion, with its Arabesque dome and many stained glass windows. She stared at the outlandish roofline that was filled with gables, spires, and turrets and then, finally, focused on the odd onion-shaped dome that was topped by a winged dragon.

Growing up in San Diego, she had visited the restored house many times, and found its eclectic look and exotic ornamentation fascinating. In modern day San Diego it was a museum. Now she would have the opportunity to see the house in its original condition.

“Now, be careful you don’t soil your dress,” Maylee said, “the road is so dusty. Follow me. We’ll go around to the other side.”

Taylor carefully gathered her skirt and stepped onto the walkway.

Maylee led her to the west side of the mansion to use the servant’s entrance. “Watch your step, here, we’ll be going down to the kitchen.”

She followed. Gone was the “old” smell that she remembered vividly from school field trips. Instead she breathed in the scents of a house filled with life. Fresh flowers. Newly waxed floors. The refreshing aroma of clean linens.