A Wife by Christmas (6 page)

After packing up her books and papers, she walked to the end of the hallway and entered Mr. Colbert’s office. His secretary, Rita, stood at the file cabinet leafing through papers.

“Is Mr. Colbert in?”

The secretary spun around, grasping her throat. “Oh, Miss Henderson, you gave me a start. I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Sorry.”

“No, Mr. Colbert has gone home for the day.”

Ellie pressed her index finger to her lips. “What time will he be in tomorrow? Can I make an appointment to see him?”

Rita walked to her desk and flipped pages on a large black book. “He has a meeting in the morning outside of school.” She frowned. “This is new. It looks like he wrote in a visit to see Mr. Ridley at the blacksmith’s after the meeting.” She glanced at her. “I guess that’s where he works.” After closing the book, she smiled. “I’m not sure about that meeting since he made it himself, so I can’t really say what time he’ll be back here.”

Ellie’s stomach clenched. She had to get to him before he saw John’s father. “That’s all right, Rita, I’ll see him some other time. Thanks. Have a good evening.”

“You, too,” she answered and returned to the file cabinet.

Ellie left the schoolhouse and walked home. Cool, crisp air made for a brisk stroll in the late afternoon sunshine. She passed two young boys throwing a stick for a dog, and a group of little girls playing with their dolls. It saddened her that John Ridley had to live with such a horrible man. Imagine beating a woman dying of cancer! He should be horsewhipped himself.

Unfortunately, no idea on how to keep Mr. Colbert from seeing John’s father had come to mind by the time she reached the blue and white Victorian house on Meridian Street where she rented a room. Mrs. Beamer greeted her as she stepped into the hall. Ellie hung her coat and unwound her scarf, still deep in thought. She headed down the hall to her first floor bedroom.

“Supper in ten minutes, Ellie,” Mrs. Beamer called as she walked past her and back to the kitchen. Smelled like chicken tonight. Her landlady certainly knew how to cook. She should have asked Mrs. Beamer to help her with the ham and potato dish disaster.

Her stomach fluttered and a flush rose to her face when she remembered the kiss Mr. Colbert—Max—had given her. Goodness! She fanned her face with her hand. What had ever possessed her to allow such liberties? What must he think of her? A harlot, most likely. She’d never felt all those wonderful sensations before. If anything, it left her curious as to what would come next if they’d been somewhere else. Somewhere all alone.

She shook her head. It would behoove her to remember Max Colbert embodied the type of ideas she despised. Nothing had changed between them. She still believed he looked for a way to have her fired.

After a quick wash with the pitcher of water in her room, Ellie smoothed her hair back and left to join the other women at the table.

Later that evening, Ellie and Rose strolled arm in arm on their way home from another Women’s Rights meeting. After exchanging hugs and promises to see each other in the morning, they parted ways, and Ellie continued to the boarding house. Once she reached Eleventh Street, she made a detour and headed toward Evergreen. Within minutes, she stood in front of Mr. Colbert’s boarding house.

She should walk right up that porch, ring the doorbell and ask to speak with him. She cringed. Women knocking on the door of a bachelor boarding house at night would be labeled ‘fast’ and with a ruined reputation, Mr. Colbert would have grounds to fire her.

There had to be another way. However, time grew short. Quietly, hoping no boards on the porch would creak, she climbed the stairs, knelt down, and peeked in the window of the front parlor. Five men occupied a couch and two chairs, a few reading the newspaper, two others in a deep discussion. Mr. Colbert was one of the newspaper-readers. She sat back on her heels and sighed. If only she could get the envelope with the money back, he’d have no proof to show Mr. Ridley tomorrow.

Carefully, she went back down the stairs. She pulled her coat collar closer and shoved her hands in her pockets. Defeated, she slowly continued her walk home when she glanced to the side of the boarding house. The scant moonlight cast a light on a wooden ladder lying on the ground against the house.
No, don’t even think about it. You can’t do that.

Yes, she could. If she climbed into Mr. Colbert’s room and found the envelope, he’d have nothing to show Mr. Ridley tomorrow. It wasn’t really stealing, she told her conscience. It belonged to her. She would merely be recovering her own property. Before her conscience could come up with a better argument, she hurried to the ladder and lifted it. Heavy. For sure, she couldn’t drag it far.

Which bedroom would be his? She snuck around the house, studying the second floor. The room to her right had a small light burning, and the only windows with both shades pulled down, precisely halfway. Both of them. She smiled. There couldn’t be two men in one boarding house with such a penchant for orderliness. It had to be his. If it turned out it not to be, she would go through the other bedrooms until she found Mr. Colbert’s.

Sweat broke out on her forehead. She must be crazy. She would be sneaking around the bedrooms of bachelors. Good Lord, what was she thinking? Her body racked with shivers. She rubbed her palms over her upper arms and continued on home. Two minutes later, John Ridley’s sad face floated into her mind. He would be beaten. His poor dying mother would be beaten.

She had to do it.

The ladder weighed a ton. She winced when a small piece of wood embedded itself in her palm. She managed to get the ladder up and held her breath when she leaned it against the house. Someone may have heard the thump it made. Her stomach knotted. When no one raced out the front door yelling for the police, she started to breathe again. Inhaling deeply, she started up, one step at a time.
Don’t look down.

As she reached the top, she shoved the window open, and stood still to listen for someone shouting at her. No sound except the thundering of her heart. She took two steps more and leaned over the windowsill. As she pushed her body forward, her foot hit the side of the ladder, and it crashed against the house, banging into the column on the porch before landing with a whoosh on an overgrown mulberry hedge. Panicked, she slid the rest of the way in, falling hard on her shoulder with a thump.

Mrs. Davis jerked as she placed the tray of cookies and tea on the mahogany table in the parlor. “What was that noise?”

Five men looked toward the window. “Wind must be kicking up,” Andrew said, returning to his newspaper.

“No, that wasn’t wind. I distinctly heard a noise upstairs.” She turned to Max. “It sounded like something fell in your room. It came from the front east corner.”

He’d been concentrating on a story about newly discovered political corruption, and didn’t hear anything. “Are you sure, Mrs. Davis? I can’t think of anything in my room that would fall over.”

“Yes, I’m sure. Or it could be a burglar upstairs. It makes me nervous to think someone may be in the house.”

Women. Always rattled about something. He’d have no peace until he went upstairs and checked. With a deep sigh, he placed the newspaper aside and left the comfortable leather chair. “I’ll check.” He headed up the stairs.

He entered the room and immediately sensed something different. The window. It was wide open, and he hadn’t had a reason to raise it in weeks. Another thing caught his attention. Someone or something was breathing. And breathing hard. And whimpering. He moved to the lamp on his dresser, raised the wick to provide more light. A soft glow surrounded the image of... “Miss Henderson!”

“Afraid so.” She sat propped against the wall, legs sprawled, wincing as she held her shoulder.

“What in all that’s holy are you doing in my room?” All the air left his lungs and he sat on the bed, facing her. “Did you just climb through that window?”

She nodded.

“Mr. Colbert, is everything all right upstairs?” Mrs. Davis called from the bottom of the staircase.

He raced to the door. “Yes, Mrs. Davis. Nothing to be concerned about. You were right, something fell over in my room.”

“Well that’s good news. Are you coming down for your tea?”

“No. Thanks anyway, I’m feeling a bit tired. I think I’ll turn in early. Good night.” He shut the door and returned to the bed.

“There are so many questions jumping around my brain, I don’t know which one to ask first.”

“I understand.” She shifted. “Could you please help me up? I seem to have hurt my shoulder.”

“Of course.” He reached down, and helped her sit on the bed. Realizing what he’d done, he hopped off the bed as if it would burst into flames.

He ran his fingers through his hair. “Why are you in my bedroom?”

“That question seems like the best place to start.” She winced as she moved her body to face him. “You have something of mine that I came to get.”

Max stared at her wide-eyed. “I don’t have anything of yours, and if I did, why not get it from me tomorrow at school?” He walked to the window, looked down, grimaced, and then shut it.

Her gaze followed his movements. “Because by the time you get to school tomorrow, it will be too late.”

“Perhaps you better explain.” He grabbed a chair from in front of his desk, turned it around and straddled it. As far away from the bed as he could get.

Ellie went through the story of John Ridley and his unfortunate family. When she finished, she placed her hands in her lap and slumped.

“Why didn’t you come to me and tell me the story at school?”

“You were already gone by then, and besides, I didn’t think you’d give it back to me.”

He sat back, his mouth open. “Why? What sort of man do you think I am that I wouldn’t feel sympathy for the boy’s plight?”

“I don’t know what sort of man you are at all, Mr. Colbert.” She stood and rubbed her shoulder. “But now I need to get home. It’s almost past curfew time.”

He watched her carefully. “How do you plan to do that?”

“What do you mean?”

“It seems your mode of entry is now lying in the mulberry bush.” He motioned toward the window.

“Can’t I just leave out the front door?”

“And how am I to explain to my landlady, who is now in the parlor enjoying her cup of tea and cookies, how you came to be in my bedroom? Not only is your reputation at risk, Miss Henderson, but so is mine. You’re one of my teachers.”

She blushed a bright red, and sat back down on the bed. “Oh.”

“Yes. Oh.”

“What are we going to do?” She kept rubbing her shoulder and blinking.

Good heavens, tears again? The last time she cried in his presence he did something totally foolish. Best to get her out of his house and back to the safety of her own.

“Simple. We’ll have to go back out the window.”

“But there’s no ladder.” She blinked furiously and wrung her hands. “I’ll lose my room if I don’t get home by ten o’clock. Then I’ll have to move back with my family, and Uncle Jesse will demand to know why, and when he finds out, he’ll send me to a convent, like he’s always threatened.”

At least the man had
some
sense, and knowledge of what direction his niece headed. “I’ll climb out the window and drop to the ground. Then you’ll climb out after me, let go of the window, and I’ll catch you.”

Ellie stared at him for a minute. “Never mind, I’d rather go to a convent.” She headed for the door.

“Stop.”

She remained at the door, her hand on the knob. “You’ll kill yourself, dropping out of the window like that.”

“No, I’m a man. Many a times in my youth I crawled in and out windows. I’ll be fine.”

A bright smile lit up her face as she turned. “You? You climbed out windows?” She shook her head. “I never would have guessed. You sure don’t seem the type.”

“There are a lot of things about me you wouldn’t guess.” His voice lowered, his heart sped up. Why did this woman plague him so? Here she stood in his bedroom, two feet from the large, comfortable bed, her hair and clothes in disarray. He’d already tasted her, knew her feel, her scent. Blood rushed to his groin. He mentally shook himself.

“Come here.” He reached his hand out.

Trance-like, she took his hand and moved in front of him. If he kissed her now, it wouldn’t end until they were both naked and sweating. A very bad idea. For so many reasons. Funny how he couldn’t think of even one right now.

“Mr. Colbert, I need to get home.”

“Right.” He blinked several times, then turned to the window and looked at the ground. “It’s not too far. Once I’m on my feet, you climb out, and when I tell you, let go of the sill and I’ll catch you.”

She swallowed and nodded.

He sat on the windowsill, slid his legs over, and with some maneuvering, ended up hanging from the ledge by his hands. Then dropped. He hit the ground, knees bent, and went down on his rear. He stood, brushed off his pants, and called to her in a loud whisper. “Okay, your turn, just do what I did.”

She stuck her head out and whispered back. “Are you crazy? I can’t do what you did. It’s like you were a monkey.”

“You have no choice. Do it, or you’ll miss your curfew.”

Awkwardly, she put her knees on the windowsill, turned, and ended up leaning on the sill with both elbows, her legs hanging above his head.

“All right, drop,” he whispered.

“No.”

“Yes.”

She twisted her neck and regarded him. “Stop looking up my skirts.”

“What!”

“Shh! I said, stop looking up my skirts.”

“I’m not looking up your skirts.”

“Yes, you are. I’m hanging here in my skirts, and you’re looking up at me.”

“I have to look up if I’m going to catch you.”

“Close your eyes.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. If I close my eyes, I’ll miss catching you.” He barely finished his sentence when she let go, arms flaying. Her bottom hit him in the chest, and they both went down in a heap. She sat on his neck.

“Get up, you’re choking me.” He gasped.

She rolled over just as the front door of the house opened. “Who’s out there?” Mrs. Davis stood on the porch, broom in one hand, a heavy black skillet in the other.