The Maverick Preacher (13 page)

“I am.”

“When I find Emily, I’m coming back.”

You’ll never find her.

Adie pivoted and strode down the path. What she saw filled her heart with terror. Flames were licking the back wall of Swan’s Nest.

S
he had to get to Stephen and wake her friends. Hiking up her skirt, she raced by the vegetable patch, coughing as the air turned into orange smoke. When she passed the carriage house, she saw fingers of flame shooting up the back wall of Swan’s Nest. Someone had lit the woodpile on fire. The house itself hadn’t caught, but the wood siding and shingled roof made it a tinderbox. Adie ran for the back door, but the heat intensified, forcing her to race to the front of the house.

As she rounded the corner, the door opened and her boarders came out in wrappers and white night rails. They looked like a flock of frightened swans. She searched and found Stephen in Mary’s arms.

Pearl cried out. “There’s Adie!”

Bessie ran forward and hugged her. “You scared us to death. We couldn’t find you!”

“And Josh,” Caroline cried. “He’s not in his room!”

“I’m right here.”

Adie turned and met his gaze. Behind him she saw billows of smoke. A roar filled the night. Had the fire spread to the house? The jewelry…The journal…She had to get them. She
needed Maggie’s jewelry to survive. Even more important, the trunk held answers for Josh. She broke from Bessie’s grip and ran through the front door.

“Adie!”

The cry came from Josh. She heard the pounding of his boots as he ran up behind her. He grabbed her arm, but she broke loose and sped up the stairs. Smoke filled her nose and eyes. An orange glow pushed into the hallway, but she didn’t see flames. Her bedroom was at the front of the house, far from the fire but still vulnerable if the roof caught.

She ran into her room and headed for the bureau where she kept the key. She grabbed it, spun around and came face-to-face with Josh.

“Get out!” he shouted. “
Nothing
is worth your life.”

“This is.”

She crouched in front of the trunk and inserted the key. Clanging bells signaled the arrival of the fire wagon. As she worked the lock, shouts from the street followed the smoke through the window. She heard Pearl sobbing and Mary yelling for her to get out. Josh stared at her in disbelief.

She opened the lid and tossed the contents on the floor. A swatch of fabric she’d used for curtains fluttered into a heap. Leftover yarn landed in a tangle. At last she grasped the velvet bag holding Maggie’s jewels, her picture and the journal. She felt Josh’s eyes on her hands, watching as she lifted the bag.

The instant she stood, he tugged her out the door and into the hallway. Smoke choked her as they hurried down the stairs. If the roof caught, she’d lose the house. The thought terrified her, but not as much as losing Stephen or even the journal. Without it, Josh would never know the truth about Emily.

When they reached the street, she risked a glance at Josh and saw questions in his eyes. The noise of the crowd, the smoke
and the roar of the flames made it impossible to speak, but she knew the night wouldn’t end without him hearing the truth.

Lots of women had red velvet bags…or did they? Josh couldn’t block the picture of Adie on her knees, risking her life for the sake of a bag that looked like the one Emily had used to hide her jewelry. He’d seen the bag only on occasion, but he recalled the gold drawstrings.

“All able-bodied men! We need help!”

The call had come from the fire chief. Josh wanted to grab the bag and look inside, but the fire took priority. He gave Adie a firm look. “We’ll speak later.”

Before she could argue, he hurried to the back of the house where the woodpile was engulfed in flames. The chief directed him to the bucket brigade. Other men followed. A few women, too, including Mary and Caroline. Gallon by gallon, they hauled water from the well, passed it down the line and threw it on the fire. As the flames died, the night returned like a dark blanket falling from the sky.

When the fire chief approached with a lantern, Josh accompanied him to inspect the dying embers. Satisfied the fire wouldn’t reignite, the chief looked at the back wall of Swan’s Nest. Smoke had stained the white paint, but the siding hadn’t caught fire. Whoever set the blaze had inflicted more fear than damage. It struck Josh as the kind of tactic Dean would use.

Deputy Morgan joined them. “It’s arson.”

“You’re certain?” Josh asked.

He held up a kerosene bottle. “I found this in the street.”

The chief took the bottle and sniffed. “It’s kerosene, all right. Even without the bottle, I’d know this fire was deliberate.”

Josh had known it, too. “It started fast.”

The chief grunted. “Woodpiles don’t catch on fire by themselves. Someone gave it a hand.”

“Did you see anyone?” Morgan said to Josh.

He flashed on the moments before the blaze. He’d been about to kiss to Adie. She’d been in his arms and he’d felt a rush of love that couldn’t be denied. He’d been overwhelmed and hadn’t seen anything except Adie turning her back.

“I didn’t notice a thing,” he said to Morgan.

“I did.”

The men turned and saw Pearl with Mary and Bessie flanking her sides. A wrapper covered her night rail, but nothing could disguise her belly. The men looked discreetly at her face.

“What did you see?” Morgan asked.

Pearl, always pale, looked fragile in the moonlight. “I couldn’t sleep, so I went to the window for air. I saw a man hurrying down the street. A few minutes later, I smelled smoke.”

The deputy frowned. “What did he look like?”

“Short and stocky.” Pearl took a breath. “Do you know Horace Jones?”

The deputy raised a brow. “He’s Franklin Dean’s driver.”

“It could have been him.”

“But you’re not sure?” he asked.

“It was too dark.”

The fire chief traded a look with Morgan. Both men knew the repercussions of accusing Franklin Dean.

Pearl looked at Josh. “We could have died tonight. If I hadn’t been up and the roof had caught—”

“It didn’t,” Mary said. “We’re fine.”

“It’s still my fault.”

Josh made his voice gruff. “Don’t you dare blame yourself.
You
didn’t light the fire.”

“That’s right,” Bessie added.

Pearl nodded but only slightly. She looked close to giving birth in the street. Josh turned to the fire chief. “Is it safe to go inside?”

“The fire’s out, but I won’t say it’s safe.” His expression hardened. “Whoever set the fire could come back.”

The women paled at the implication. The flames had been doused, but the arsonist was running loose. Josh wondered if Adie and her friends would ever feel safe again. As Mary and Bessie led Pearl into the house, he went in search of Adie. He spotted Caroline first. Next to her stood Adie, clutching Stephen and swaying in a gentle rhythm. He searched for the velvet bag and saw it clutched in her hand, dangling below the baby’s back and partially hidden.

When Caroline saw him, she whipped a hankie from her pocket and tried to wipe his face. “You’re covered with soot.”

He brushed her hand aside. “Not now, Caroline.” He couldn’t take his eyes off Adie and the bag.

Adie avoided him by looking at Caroline, who’d fallen three steps behind. “I guess we can go inside.”

“Not yet.” He’d waited long enough for answers. He turned back to Caroline. “I need to speak to Adie in private. Would you take Stephen?”

Adie shook her head. “It’s late. Tomorrow—”

“Now,” he said gently. “Please.”

Caroline reached for the baby. “Go on, Adie. It must be important.”

He could see the battle in her eyes, but she kissed the top of Stephen’s head, then handed the baby to Caroline, who turned to Josh with a wistful smile. “Good night, Reverend.”

She finally understood. “Good night, Caroline. And thank you.”

As she walked away, Adie looked both terrified and calm, like a prisoner resigned to an execution.

Josh guided her up the steps and into the parlor, where he lit a lamp and turned up the wick. He wanted to see every flicker of her eyes. She flinched, but she didn’t turn down the
brightness. As she sat on the divan, Josh dropped on to the armchair, watching as she set the velvet bag in her lap. Looking down, she pulled the drawstrings and removed a black leather journal. She laid the book flat, laced her fingers across the binding and met his gaze. “I have a confession to make. Stephen’s not my flesh-and-blood son.”

His neck hairs prickled.

“His mother was my best friend. She died giving birth. She made me promise—”

“Her name,” he said.
“Tell me her name.”

“Maggie Butler.”

His grandmother’s name had been Margaret. Butler had been her surname. His grandfather’s given name was Stephen. Common sense warned him to hear the whole story before he uttered a word, but his temper was flaring bright. He wanted to shout at Adie for hiding the truth. He also saw her suffering and wanted to hold her in his arms.

Her face turned white. “Maggie had an accent like yours. And a brother. A minister…She hated him.”

God, forgive me.

Her fingers clutched the velvet bag. “Her brother said vile things. She was afraid he’d take the baby, so she asked me to raise Stephen as my own. She died minutes later.”

Grief collided with guilt. The guilt smothered his anger at Adie for hiding the truth. He had no right to throw stones at her. He’d started the entire mess.

With her eyes downcast, she lifted a square of cardboard from the journal and held it out to him. “This is a picture of Maggie.”

As he pinched the edge, glare turned the paper white. He slanted it and the whiteness fell away like a drape, revealing a copy of the tintype he’d lost in the river crossing. He couldn’t bear the sight of Emily’s unblinking eyes. Pressure built in his chest. He didn’t want Adie to see him cry, but the tears leaked
from the corners of his eyes. Emily was dead. She’d died not knowing he’d changed. She’d never hear his apology.

“Is it—” Adie couldn’t finish.

“It’s Emily.”

Guilt whipped through him and not just because of his sister. Adie had hidden the truth for weeks. Why? Did she think he’d take her son? He couldn’t imagine wrestling a baby from its mother’s arms. How could she think he’d do such a thing? The thought wounded him as deeply as he’d wounded Emily.

When he looked up from Emily’s still face, he saw Adie holding a strand of pearls. “These belonged to Maggie…I mean Emily.”

They’d once belonged to the real Maggie Butler.

“I have most of her jewelry,” Adie said with pride. “She told me to sell it to support Stephen. That’s how I bought this house.”

“I see,” he managed.

“I’m not a thief.” She raised her chin. “The jewelry belongs to Stephen, not me. That’s why I borrowed to buy Swan’s Nest. I’m paying my share with hard work.”

Josh didn’t think he could hurt any more, but Adie’s confession broke his heart. Dressed in brown, she looked like a sparrow protecting her nest. Wisps of her maple hair feathered across her temple. Her lips moved, then stopped. She tried again to speak, but her voice cracked. Like a fluttering bird, she moved from the divan to the foot of his chair, dropping to her knees and clasping her hands against her chest. “Please don’t take Stephen away from me! I’ll do anything. I’ll be his nanny. I’ll go with you to Boston.”

Shaken and miserable, Josh stared as she told him she’d work as a servant, that somehow she’d pay her own way. Before he found his voice, she clutched his hand. “I’m begging you, Reverend.”

Reverend?
He wanted to be Josh…just Josh.

She bent her neck and sobbed. “Please, don’t take my son.”

Her tears scalded his soul, but he couldn’t be offended. He’d made that threat to his sister. He couldn’t make amends to Emily, but he could give Adie peace. She needed to know Stephen was hers. Just as profound, Josh needed
her
to know
him.

He deepened his voice. “Look at me.”

When she raised her face, he cupped her cheeks in his hands. His voice came out rough. “Adie, you
know
me.”

She sniffed. “Do I?”

“Yes!” He needed her respect, her faith in his heart. “You
know
what I’m going to say.”

Hope filled her eyes. It vindicated him. “That’s right. You’re Stephen’s mother. That will
never
change.”

Bowing her head, she broke into a flood of new tears, murmuring “thank you” over and over. Her gratitude embarrassed him. They were simply two human beings, both flawed, battered by life and in need of kindness. He cupped her chin in his palm. As she looked up, her tears glistened and her lips parted again. Instead of thanking him, she smiled.

He brushed her cheek with his thumb. “I should be thanking you.”

“Why?”

“You gave my nephew a home. You gave Emily peace when she needed it most.”

“She was my friend.”

If her smile made him human in a good way, her tears reflected his limitations. He couldn’t kiss them away. Only God could put a woman’s tears in a bottle and throw it into the sea. Josh had to settle for giving her his handkerchief. He reached in his pocket and gave her the linen. “Here.”