Through the Deep Waters (31 page)

My Dear Miss Hubley
,

Thank you again for accepting my invitation to the Calico Ball. I have never attended a dance before, and now I know what I was missing. But I think the reason it was so special is because I was there with you
.

It was good for us to talk and get to know each other better, but there is still so much I don’t know. I find myself wanting to know everything. So I am going to ask you some questions that you can answer in your letter to me. Please ask me anything you want to know, too. I will do my best to answer
.

Here are my questions:

Miss Mead told me you were raised in wealth. Was your money lost when your mother died and that is why you work as a chambermaid?

I could see how much you liked talking about Samson and Gideon. Did you have dogs at your house?

When I was a boy, my favorite day of the year was my birthday because Ma baked a chocolate cake and I got presents. I still have the carved wooden dog my grandfather made for me when I turned six. I will be twenty-five on January 11. When is your birthday, and what was your favorite birthday present when you were a girl?

I suppose that is enough prying for now. I look forward to your reply
.

I remain faithfully yours
,

Amos Ackerman

He still wished he’d had prettier paper, and his penmanship could be neater, but for a first letter he was satisfied. He folded it and placed it inside the cover of his Bible so he wouldn’t forget it on Sunday. Then he yawned, tiredness striking. He should be able to sleep now. He extinguished the lamp’s flame, then felt his way to his sleeping room. In the dark, he skimmed down to his long johns and flopped onto his bed. The straw-filled mattress felt good
after his long walk from town. He yawned again, ready to succumb to sleep. But before he allowed himself to drift away into slumber, he sent up a brief prayer.

Lord, thank You for giving me this evening with Dinah. Please give her good dreams to carry her through the night. Amen
.

Dinah

Dinah couldn’t sleep. Or perhaps, more accurately, she refused to sleep. She wanted nothing to cloud the sweetness of her blissfully wonderful evening with Mr. Ackerman. If she closed her eyes, the nightmares would surely come just as they came every night. She’d already laid out a sheet of plain paper and the stub of a pencil when she returned to the room, but Ruthie had fussed about wanting to sleep, so Dinah had set the items aside. But they beckoned to her from the dresser top.

She slipped from the bed and tiptoed to the dressing table. By pawing around, she located the paper and pencil. She tucked the items underneath her arm. Then she lifted the globed lamp in one hand and cradled the little tin of matches in the other. Holding her breath, she crept out to the hallway where the light wouldn’t disturb Ruthie.

After quietly closing the door behind her, she removed a match and flicked it on the doorframe. It flared to life, making her squint. She touched the tiny flame to the lamp’s wick, and then she blew out the match and waved away the pungent smoke. For several seconds she stood as still as a mouse beneath a cat’s scrutiny, listening for any signs her nighttime activities had awakened any of the other girls. But only silence greeted her ears.

Relieved, she set the lamp on the floor and sat beside it, taking care not to bump it. Using her bent knee as a desk, she flattened the paper and gripped the pencil between her fingers. Although she’d struggled to write school assignments and had only written letters to Rueben—hardly the same as writing to a potential beau!—she found words flowing easily onto the page.

Dear Mr. Ackerman
,

Thank you so much for inviting me to the Calico Ball. I have never had as much fun as I did this evening. You were a perfect gentleman—

Her heart caught as the meaning behind the simple statement rose up to torment her.

—and I couldn’t imagine a better escort. I especially enjoyed our dance at the end of the night. From now on “Roses from the South” will always be my favorite song
.

She paused. Was the statement too personal? The admission came from the center of her heart, a place she tried to shield. But in the end, she chose to leave it. It was the truth, and there were so many things she had to keep secret. She would be transparent whenever she could.

Your idea to write letters is a good one, and I look forward to getting to know you better as time goes by. Thank you for your kindness to me, Mr. Ackerman
.

Sincerely yours
,

Miss Dinah Hubley

She held the page at arm’s length. The content was short but heartfelt. Would he expect more for a first correspondence? She wanted this letter to be perfect in every way. She found nothing to fault in her penmanship, at least. Over time, as she grew more comfortable in her relationship with Mr. Ackerman, the length of her letters would increase. She could be satisfied with a short one for now.

Her eyes felt scratchy, and she set the letter aside and rubbed her eyes with her fists. Her mouth stretched in a yawn, and she rested her head against the
wall, allowing her eyes to drift shut for a moment. Behind her closed lids she envisioned the ballroom with its swags of fabric and scattered rose petals. She saw Mr. Ackerman hold his arms open to her, tenderness shining in his eyes. The sweet melody of “Roses from the South” sang through her memory.

A smile formed on her lips without conscious thought. With the pleasant sights and sounds filling her head, she eased into sleep.

Ruthie

The alarm clock’s clang roused Ruthie. She clumsily swatted at the clock until she managed to silence the discordant sound. Balling her hands into fists, she enjoyed a leisurely stretch and then reached over to tap Dinah awake. To her surprise, her arm descended on an empty slice of mattress.

Sitting up, she searched the room. Her confusion mounted when she realized the lamp from their bureau was missing. Where could Dinah have gone during the night that required a lamp’s guiding glow? If Dinah had sneaked off to meet Mr. Ackerman somewhere and Mr. Irwin found out, she’d be in terrible trouble. Torn between aggravation and worry, Ruthie flung herself out of bed and scrambled into her robe. Then she charged for the hallway.

As she tugged the door open, she heard a muffled giggle. She looked across the hall to Lyla, who stood in her open doorway. One door down, Matilda hissed to capture Ruthie’s attention and then pointed. Ruthie peered out and then reared back in shock. There sat Dinah, sleeping on the floor with her head lolling to the side and her nightgown bunched up around her knees. The lamp, still flickering, stood sentinel over a rumpled piece of paper and a stubby pencil.

While Lyla and Matilda continued to giggle behind their hands, Ruthie exclaimed, “Dinah! What on earth are you doing out here?”

Dinah came awake with a start that lifted both of her bare feet off the floor and brought her head up with snap. She released a little yelp, and then her face contorted into a horrible grimace. Clutching her neck, she glared at Ruthie. “Did you have to scare me that way? I think my bones cracked.”

Ruthie snorted. “Your bones are fine.” She yanked up the lamp, scowling at the small amount of oil left in the bottom. “But our oil supply isn’t. You nearly used it all up!”

Lyla and Matilda exchanged smirks. Matilda said, “Does Ruthie snore, Dinah? Is that why you slept in the hallway?”

Lyla teased, “Or did you get locked out of the room last night?”

Dinah jolted to her feet, pressing her palms on the wall to help herself rise. She said nothing to either of the servers as she bent over and snatched up the paper and pencil still lying next to her bare toes. She pushed past Ruthie into their room, and Ruthie slammed the door on Matilda’s and Lyla’s laughter.

Ruthie set the lamp on the bureau and turned to Dinah, placing her fists on her hips. “What were you doing out there? I thought you’d given up sleeping in odd places.” She’d not forgotten finding Dinah asleep behind the wardrobe on her first day in Florence.

Dinah, red faced, crushed the paper to her chest. “I wanted to write a note, but I couldn’t see in the dark, and I didn’t want to wake you by lighting the lamp, so I went into the hallway. And I must have fallen asleep out there.”

Ruthie couldn’t stifle a laugh. Dinah was prattling worse than Ruthie usually did. Maybe she was rubbing off on the girl. “It must have been an important note.”

A soft expression crossed Dinah’s face. “Yes. It was.”

They needed to dress and go down to breakfast, but curiosity held Ruthie in place. “To whom did you write?”

Dinah ducked her head, her cheeks filling with such color she looked as though a fever raged. Her hands convulsed on the paper, which was becoming irreparably wrinkled. Then she whispered, “Mr. Ackerman. A … a thank-you note.”

“So you enjoyed your evening?” Ruthie would never admit how much time she’d spent gazing at the pair of them snug on the settee, lost in conversation while the ball went on around them.

“It was a lovely evening.” Dinah’s tone turned wistful. “But …”

Ruthie’s pulse tripped into hopeful double beats. Might the note be a
means of letting Mr. Ackerman know Dinah was no longer interested in spending time with him? She braved a quavering question. “But you needed a gentle way to tell him … farewell?”

Dinah’s wide-eyed gaze collided with Ruthie’s. “What do you mean?”

“Well …” Ruthie floundered. She wished Dinah were easier to read. She never knew what was going on behind the girl’s pale eyes. “It’s nice that you went with him, since he’s merely a chicken farmer and you hail from a wealthy background. Generally, those of such different social classes don’t mix well. So the two of you wouldn’t be”—she drew on Mama’s word—“compatible.”

Dinah gazed at her for long minutes, her brow all puckered. Finally she sighed. “Ruthie, I am not from a wealthy family.”

Ruthie raised one brow. “But you had a cook.”

Shaking her head, Dinah offered a sad smile. “The owner of the house where my mother and I lived had a cook. So we didn’t do any cooking on our own. We were … employed … there, as well.”

Realization dawned. All this time she’d envisioned Dinah with servants and a lifestyle of leisure, but instead she’d worked as a servant for someone else. The jealous thoughts she’d harbored now made her feel petty and mean. Embarrassment washed over her. Ruthie marched to the wardrobe and reached for her uniform. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

Dinah followed, still pressing the note to her heart as if she needed the message to keep her blood pumping. “I should have.” She touched Ruthie’s arm. “I’m sorry. It was wrong of me to stay silent.”

“It surely was.” Ruthie didn’t mean to speak so sharply. She stepped aside, uniform in hand, so Dinah could get to the wardrobe. “So you’ve decided to …” Her tight throat didn’t want to release words. She pushed her question past a lump of resignation. “To be courted?”

Dinah paused with her hand on the uniform apron. “I don’t know.”

A flicker of hope rose to life within Ruthie’s breast. “You don’t know?”

Dinah took down the apron and turned toward Ruthie. “Not yet. Mr. Ackerman and I are going to”—another blush rose in her cheeks, so girlish and happy a new wave of jealousy captured Ruthie—“get to know each other a
little better first. By writing letters.” She waved the paper she clutched between her fingers. “We’ll leave them beneath the cushion on one of the wicker chairs. So if you find a letter out there, it’s meant for me.”

But he was meant for me
. Ruthie managed to hold the dismayed comment inside. She forced a trembling smile. “I won’t read them. I promise.”

A genuine smile grew on Dinah’s face, transforming her. “I know you won’t. I told Mr. Ackerman we could trust you.”