Diamond Duo (31 page)

Bertha looked away, her face on fire. “Annie’s not his wife.”

Papa cleared his throat. When she glanced at him, he appeared as red as she felt. “I don’t like it, Bertha Maye.”

She swallowed hard and peered into his face. “I don’t either, Papa. But I told you some of Annie’s story. Can’t you see? She needs my help.”

He looked straight ahead again, his face grim. His mustache twitched as he chewed one side of his bottom lip then the other. “You know it’s a mighty heavy burden you’ve shouldered. Are you certain it’s your load to bear?”

Her heartbeat quickened. “It’s cost me dearly. I need to see it through.”

He released a heavy breath, gave a curt nod, and spurred on the horse. They rode up Vale Street in silence, Papa’s Irish temper still seething beside her.

When they pulled up to Brooks House, Bertha started to climb down. “Wait here. I won’t be long.”

Papa latched onto her arm. “There’ll be none of that.”

Frustrated, she plopped back. “Sorry, I forgot. Hurry, please.”

“I ain’t referring to helping you down.” He pointed at the door, his face crimson and mottled like a ripe red plum. “I mean there’ll be none of you going inside there alone.”

She heaved a sigh. “Papa, listen. I’ll inquire at the desk first. I promise not to go near her room until I’m sure he’s gone out.”

“I’m going with you, Bertha. To the lobby, at least, until I’m satisfied you’ll be safe.”

“Papa–”

“Else we leave here right now!”

Bertha winced and drew back. Papa never raised his voice to her. Defeated, she nodded. “Very well, then. Let’s go. But please. . . let me do the talking.”

After looking around the grounds in front, they passed through the doors of Brooks House and checked the lobby and parlor and then the dining room out back. Feeling like a player in
one of Annie’s Broadway shows for all their skulking about, Bertha gingerly approached the desk.

Thomas, Dr. Turner’s porter, leaned over the registry, his lanky elbows planted on each side. He glanced up as they drew near, his face lighting up at the sight of Bertha’s papa.

“Well, well, well. Mr. Biddie, suh. How you? You catched any mo’ dem big old catfish?”

At the mention of his favorite subject, Papa’s bright face matched Thomas’s glow. “I ain’t been fishing any more since that day. Too much work around the house.”

“What? Too busy to fish? Mr. Biddie, that’s way too busy.” He chuckled then pursed his lips, the picture of innocence. “Well, dat’s a shame, ain’t it? I reckon since you ain’t using yo’ secret catfish bait, ain’t no reason you cain’t tell me what goes in it.”

Papa jabbed his finger in Thomas’s face. “A worthy attempt, laddie. You’ll not be gettin’ it out of me that easy.”

They laughed together; then Papa leaned in toward the desk. “Doc Turner around?”

“Naw, suh. Went home fer a spell. He be back over here directly.” He pointed at the well-appointed parlor. “You folks mighty welcome to wait.”

Bertha stepped closer and lowered her voice. “Maybe you can help us. Do you happen to know if the gentleman staying in number four is in his room?”

Thomas started around the edge of the desk. “No, ma’am, Miss Bertha, but I’ll be glad to find out.”

Papa clutched his arm. “Let’s not do that, son. We don’t necessarily want to see him, just wanted to know if he’s home.”

Thomas gave Papa a blank stare. “Yes, suh, Mr. Biddie. But it won’t trouble me none to go see if he’s in there.”

Footsteps in the hallway sent Bertha’s heart rumbling like loose boulders. She jerked around to find Jennie Simpson limping into the foyer. Jennie stopped to stare, probably because none of the Biddies ever came inside the hotel.

“Well, I swear, if it ain’t little Miss Bertha. Afternoon to you,
as well, Mr. Biddie, suh.”

Bertha hurried to her. “Afternoon, Jennie. Tell me, have you been cleaning the rooms?”

Her long lashes fluttered, and she pointed at her ankle. “No, ma’am, I ain’t s’posed to.”

For the first time, Bertha saw it was swathed in white cloth.

Smiling, Jennie turned her foot back and forth so Bertha could get a better look.

“Mercy, what happened?”

“Twisted it. Near to broke. Wouldn’t be standing here now ’cepting I be about to starve to death upstairs.” She glared at Thomas. “A body could lay up and die for all they care around here.”

Thomas made a tent with his brows. “How you gon’ starve when you find your way down those stairs in time for every meal served in this place? If you ask me, you’re fit enough to work if you’re fit enough to trot around huntin’ up food all the time.” He nodded at her feet, his lips curled in a smirk. “ ’Sides, I just seen you limp out here on the wrong foot. Better not let old Doc see you do that.”

She planted her knuckles on her hips. “Shush your mouth. Why you gon’ lie on me like that?”

Bertha ducked in front of her scowling face and pointed down the hall. “Do you know if Miss Annie Monroe’s, um, husband is in the room with her?”

It seemed a dreadful struggle, but Jennie pulled her attention from Thomas to Bertha’s question. “Who?” Then her frown became a slow grin. “Oh, I know. You mean Miss Bessie’s man.”

“Miss Bessie. Yes, that’s right.”

“He ain’t here. And she ain’t neither.”

Disappointment swelled. Bertha hadn’t considered that possibility. “She’s not here?”

“No, miss. Ain’t seen her since they went off together yesterday morning. The mister, he come back all by hisself that afternoon.”

“By himself?”

“Yes’m. When I went to fetch them for dinner”–she shot a
vengeful look at a grinning Thomas–“Mr. Abe say he already ate over to Miss Woods’s place. So I asked him, ‘What about Miss Bessie?’ He say he left her at the restaurant, and she gon’ be home that night.” She stopped to draw a breath. “Only this morning at breakfast”–a glare at Thomas–“she weren’t there.”

“Not there?” Bertha felt like a parrot but couldn’t stop repeating.

“No, miss. Mr. Abe be sitting at the table by hisself wearing those two big rings of hers.” She touched a finger to her lips. “Or did I see that on Saturday night? Can’t recollect which time, but I seen it.”

The front door opened behind them, and Bertha whirled. Dr. Turner stood in the foyer hanging his coat. Relieved, she clutched at her collar and drew a ragged breath.

Doc turned with a playful frown. “Does anybody work around here when I’m gone? Francis, don’t give these two any more reason to lollygag, if you don’t mind. They manage quite nicely on their own.” He widened his eyes at his two employees. “I’m back now, so get to work.”

Panic gripped Jennie’s face. “Dr. Turner, what about my leg?”

“I reckon you’ve nursed that excuse plumb to death.” He studied her mournful face then slumped his shoulders. “Very well, get upstairs and rest your leg. But I expect you for light duty tomorrow morning.”

Jennie backed away with a sullen look on her face. “Yes, suh. I’ll make it. . .somehow.”

When Jennie turned to follow Thomas from the room, Bertha was almost positive she favored the wrong foot.

Dr. Turner frowned. “Where you going? I said to get upstairs.”

She whipped around. “I’s hongry. Thomas ain’t tended me no way like he should.”

Before Thomas could protest, Doc nodded at the stairs. “Get on up there. I’ll have him fetch your supper in a bit.”

She cut sulky eyes at Thomas and smiled. “Yes, suh, Doc.”

Laughing, Doc shook Papa’s hand. “What can I do for you, Francis?”

Papa nodded toward Bertha. “Nothing for me. It’s my girl here. She’s worried about her friend. Thought maybe you could tell her where she is.”

He turned. “Your friend Annie?”

Close to tears, she only managed a nod.

“Sorry to say she’s not here. We haven’t seen her since early Sunday morning.”

Papa spoke up in Bertha’s stead. “That’s what Jennie said. Do you have an idea where she might’ve gone?”

“I saw her gentleman friend around two or three o’clock yesterday. The lady wasn’t with him. After dinner I asked if she had returned from wherever she’d been, but she hadn’t. So I asked from where he expected her return. He said he left her across the bayou visiting friends.”

Bertha’s head reeled with the information. Annie had friends across the bayou? She’d never once mentioned it. She found her voice. “When she comes back, will you tell her I’m looking for her?”

“I will.” He tilted his head toward the row of rooms down the hall. “For now, you’d best not let him see you here. It’ll just make more trouble for that poor girl.”

Bertha clutched her papa’s arm. “He’s here? Jennie said he wasn’t.”

“Oh, he’s here all right. Not answering the door is all. Paced his room all through the night, according to the other guests. Came down for breakfast this morning but didn’t eat a bite. Said he was sick last night. Stinking drunk, more like it.” He hooked his thumb toward number four. “Been moping in there all afternoon.” He grinned and winked at Papa. “Just between us, I think she finally wised up and left him.”

Bertha couldn’t get outside of Brooks House fast enough. Even with Papa beside her, the thought of coming face-to-face with Abe Monroe raised the hairs on her neck. In her nearly eighteen years, she’d never had to fear a living soul, but something about Annie’s companion stuck pure terror in her heart.

She thought of the day on the bluff when she first saw Annie’s
fear of Abe reflected in those lovely gray eyes. Annie had dreaded Abe’s wrath more than an encounter with the devil himself. Then the night outside the Rosebud, even with Annie’s senses deadened by drink, Bertha had witnessed the depths of her terror.

Maybe Dr. Turner was right. Maybe Annie had found a way to escape.

Bertha jumped when Papa touched her arm.

“I’m talking to you, Bertha. Haven’t you heard a word of it?”

She gave him a tight smile. “Sorry, Papa.”

“I asked if you knew of a place Annie might be hiding.”

She shook her head. “She never mentioned knowing anyone in Jefferson. Of course, we weren’t friends before she came. Annie’s so kindhearted and outgoing, I can’t assume I’m the only person in town who was drawn to her, now, can I?” Bertha had to admit the thought brought a peculiar sensation to the pit of her stomach. A sensation a little too close to jealousy. Jealously blended and stirred with anger and a generous dose of hurt feelings.

How could Annie turn to someone else after Bertha’s offer of help? How could she up and leave town without even saying good-bye? Especially after Bertha’s considerable sacrifice.

Then again, while grieving for Thad, she’d let a whole day pass without finding out what happened to Annie after she left her standing on a street corner in her nightdress.

God, forgive me. I’ve made a real mess of things.

“Bertha, what’s ailing you, lass? I might as well be talking to a picket.”

“Please forgive me. What did you say?”

“I asked you what’s next, then.”

His question ricocheted through the empty chambers of Bertha’s heart, once so filled with fond affection from a friend and abiding love from a man. The same question applied to both Annie’s fate and Bertha’s future with Thad.

She drew a shaky breath. “What’s next? Papa, if only I knew.”

H
enry hadn’t spoken to Sarah since the ugly words he spat at her in the hotel parlor. All the way home he sat silently in the back of Thomas’s wagon, pale and gritting his teeth. When they pulled into the yard, he managed to thank Thomas and the boys, even greeted Dickens on the porch. But then he walked straight to their room and climbed into bed with nary a spare word left for Sarah.

Desperate to be near him, she followed him inside. “Henry?” she whispered. “Don’t you want to eat something?”

He turned his face to the wall and drew up his shoulders. She knew he wanted her to leave, but she couldn’t. Instead, she pulled the shade without making a sound, eased her way to the corner rocker, and sat so quietly in the dim room that he didn’t seem to know she was there.

She watched while he tossed and turned, cried and groaned, twitched and moaned. When his breathing deepened and his face relaxed in sleep, Sarah finally dared to move. Easing her body from the chair, she crept out of the room. To keep the old hinges from squeaking, she left the door open and tiptoed down the hall.

In the kitchen, she sought the comfort of her red tea can. She took it down from the shelf and shook it, and only then remembered she had enough left for one last cup. While the water heated, Sarah
wracked her mind. What had happened to make Henry so angry? What had she done to cause his hateful glare? To lace his voice with spite?

Dr. Eason said Henry’s mind had shut down like a stubborn mule’s. Well, she didn’t believe it. She knew what a stubborn Henry looked like. The sullen man in the bedroom was a stranger she’d never laid eyes on.

Sarah lifted the kettle just as it started to whistle and sprinkled the last bit of her tea leaves over steaming water. Before closing the lid, she watched as swirling color leeched from the dried leaves. Some nameless disaster swirled about her in much the same way, threatening to stain her marriage and darken her happy life.