Promise of Yesterday (3 page)

Chester shifted his weight and squinted out the window of his little room on the first floor of Antrim House. He reviewed his meeting with Marylu. He had been surprised at her beauty. High cheekbones. Moonlit-night skin that set off the glow in her eyes, the color of a golden pancake. But her sass had brought his smile out of hiding, and once he felt the grin on his lips, it seemed he couldn’t stop smiling. His spirits had lifted and soared. A feeling he’d not felt for a long time.

He blinked and reached for his worn shirt, buttoning it on as he crossed the room. He needed to get started on the tables and chairs Mr. Shillito had requested. He finished the last buttonhole and swung the door wide.

A woman stood in the hallway, her back to him, but Chester’s heart slammed against his chest as Marylu Biloxi threw a questioning glance over her shoulder. When their eyes met, she turned and put a hand to her chest. “What you doing here?”

Marylu dropped her hand. “You ‘bout made my heart stop.”

Chester took note of her bright blue dress and crisp white apron, not to mention the curves filling out the clothing in all the right places. He wondered if her statement meant his presence stirred something in her or if he’d spooked her. He donned an imaginary hat and gave her a deep bow.

“Mr. Shillito didn’t tell me you were the one he’d hired.”

Chester pressed his lips together and let the sparkle shine in his eyes, then punctuated the moment with a quick shrug.

“You best be knowing how to work real hard.”

His mind drifted to the many scars across his back, not that he’d been afraid of work or ever caught shirking the rows in the fields down south. No, the lashes had been a matter of pleasing a very unpleasable master. He must have let the melancholy slip into his expression, because Marylu’s eyes grew softer.

“I’m right sure you know all there is to know about hard work.”

To this he bobbed his head. He knew about running, too. Running hard and long and trying to outpace howling dogs on four legs. He knew the racing heart and the prickle of cold sweat and the twist of dread that clinched the gut tighter as each howl got closer and the voices of his pursuers louder.

She put a hand on his arm, and he gave himself a mental shake.

“Make a list of what you need to make room five right again. Drunk man smashed it up pretty bad, and Mr. Shillito wants it put right.”

Chester stood straight as a stick, stuck out his chest, and saluted.

She frowned and mocked anger. “Don’t you be forgettin’ it either, or I’ll have your hide.”

He watched her go, aware of her in a way that was sure to bring him trouble. How could he think for a minute to pin his hopes of settling down on a woman whose soul showed more bravery and courage than he could ever hope to muster?

The man was haunted, to be sure. Marylu knew the interpretation of the expression on Chester’s face. She’d seen it a thousand times as she’d helped Miss Jenny’s father feed the slaves that came to them on those dark nights, long ago. Pain and suffering. Fear so deep it cut her to witness it.

Something else tweaked at her mind. The sight of the faint red around his eyes. She knew what that meant, too. Had seen it too many times in Cooper after he’d spent a long, sleepless night, rocked by his nightmares of the days he’d spent down south.

She pushed the broom she held into the corners of room three and chased a spider away in the process. After Marylu finished cleaning the first four rooms and entered room five, she was amazed to find most of the repairs already taken care of.

Chester hunched over a broken chair, his thick fingers assessing the smoothness of the new chair leg he was sanding. He placed the chair on the floor and braced his hands on corners diagonal from each other and rocked the piece to see if it wobbled. Marylu grinned when she saw that it remained stable and level. Face lit with satisfaction, Chester got to his feet and smoothed down his spiking hair.

“You need a shearing,” she observed.

His eyes glowed, and he ran a hand over his hair and stirred it into a wild fan around his head.

Marylu shook her head at his antics, reached out, and pressed it back down. The springy feel of his hair startled her somehow and stirred her to a heightened awareness of the intimacy of the gesture. She snatched her hand away and swallowed over the sudden ache in her throat. “You get on over to the McGrearys’ tonight, and I’ll sharpen my shears and fix you up.”

His eyes rounded, and took on the look of an excited puppy. He rubbed a hand over his midsection.

“I’m guessing I can find something to feed you as well.” With all his hand-waving, even if born of necessity, he must work up an appetite. But how did he eat without a tongue? She wondered, too, if he got tired of trying to communicate everything with his hands and gestures. To have to be quick to act out everything he wanted to say, not to mention patient enough to wait for the person he talked with to interpret what he meant. It must make him feel very isolated. “Cooper says he knows you, that you got kin ‘round here.”

His nod came slow, and the sadness returned to pull his face into a frown.

She wondered why he hadn’t moved on to see his family already. “You not here to raise trouble, are you?”

He shook his head.

“See that you don’t. We don’t like rabble-rousers. We got ourselves a church. You do church, don’t you?”

His eyes went round and dull for a fleeting minute but lightened into a gentle glow, accompanied by an enthusiastic nod. He spread his arms wide as if to take in the whole room then pointed to the chair he had been working on. His puppy eyes locked on hers, and he raised his brows.

“You did a fine job, Chester.” She folded her arms and grunted. “But if you ever dare to walk across any floor of mine with your muddy boots again, I’ll pluck you bald one hair at a time.”

Chester gave a look of mock horror and covered his head with his hands.

Marylu bit down hard, but a single laugh squeezed through. Chester’s laughter joined hers, until both of them were gasping for breath.

That bit of merrymaking sustained Marylu through the long morning. Chester, too, seemed lighter of spirit when she left to go to McGreary’s Dress Shop in the afternoon. Announcing herself as she opened the back door of Miss Jenny’s shop, Marylu hadn’t moved three full paces through the back door when Miss Jenny stuck her head out of the nearby storage area.

Jenny’s huge grin mirrored the look she had given Marylu the previous day when making her hot grease comment. “I don’t guess I have to ask what has you so cheery looking. I heard Levitt Burns’s wife whispering something about the ‘mute,’ as she called him.”

“That’s full nonsense.”

“The ‘mute’ part or that Mrs. Burns was whispering?”

Marylu sent her a look.

Her friend’s smile spread from ear to ear. “Mrs. Burns will be in later today to drop off some mending and order some new dresses. I’ll let her know you said she was full of nonsense.”

“Wouldn’t do you good to open your mouth at all. She wouldn’t let you drop one word before she trampled you ‘neath a mouthful of her own.”

Miss Jenny juggled two bolts of cloth. “So you didn’t see him?”

“I saw him.”

“It’s good to see you so happy.”

“Ain’t no happier than usual.”

Miss Jenny giggled in response, clearly unconvinced, and passed the bolts of cloth to Marylu. “These need to go out on the table, and then the hem needs to be put in Miss Rosaleigh’s wedding dress.”

Glad for a change in topic, Marylu plucked the bolts from her employer’s arms. “You finished her bonnet?”

“It came together nicely this morning. Good thing, too, because I’ve got to start on Mrs. Carl’s order.”

“You’re working awful hard.”

Jenny paused in pinning a pattern to smooth blue cotton. “It helps fill the hours. If not for you and Cooper, I don’t know what I’d do for company.” She smoothed the wrinkles in the paper and continued pinning.

“You could give Aaron a chance. That Sally is a little too flighty for him. Pay him some attention, and he’ll be sure to notice.”

Scissors appeared in Miss Jenny’s hand. She gave a practice
snip-snip
then set to work cutting around the edges of the pattern. Marylu waited for a response, surprised when none came, not even a blatant denial of the suggestion.

They worked at their respective tasks for more than an hour, interrupted when Mrs. Burns entered the store, cheeks flushed and hair slipping down from the combs, forming ringlets around her face.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Burns.” Marylu watched Miss Jenny welcome the woman. They conferred on materials for a good ten minutes before Jenny faced her. “Could you lay out some patterns for Mrs. Burns, Marylu? I’ve got to get this dress basted.”

Marylu did as instructed, laying out the patterns on the long display case, as Mrs. Burns expressed interest.

“It’s good to see you so well, Marylu,” Mrs. Burns commented. “Thank ya, ma’am.”

The woman drew in a great breath, and Marylu braced herself for the verbal flood headed her way, wishing she was Moses and could part the waters before the flood drowned her.

“I was just telling Jenny the other day how lucky she was to have such a faithful and devoted servant in you. I know how much comfort you and Cooper bring to her. It’s a shame she can’t find a suitable companion. Of course, I did hear that Aaron down at the mill was looking her way, until Sally Worth wore that azure dress last Sunday and sashayed around him until he finally asked her to the church picnic. Though I’m sure you wouldn’t have known about that since you have your own church. You should be having a new member, too. Mr. Shillito hired that mute man who came into town. You seen him?”

Marylu didn’t even bother molding her tongue around a reply.

“I’m sure you did,” Mrs. Burns answered her own question. “He’s a quiet one to be sure, but I guess that’s because of his tongue being cut. Not all of it from what I hear, but enough to make it impossible for him to form most letters. A shame, I’m sure, but right punishment for a murderer, don’t you think?”

“It can’t be true.” Miss Jenny’s mouth pursed. She gave the scissors a snip into the air to punctuate the statement. “He doesn’t look the type.”

“Since when are you one to judge on looks?” Marylu unfolded the large section of material her employer was set to begin cutting.

“Oh, I don’t. He just seems so”—she bent over the table, her brows creased—”gentle.”

Marylu didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer, truth be told, because it was the exact word she would have used to describe Chester Jones’s appearance. Sure, he got sassy with her, but his eyes held a quietness that seemed to show an inner strength. Her skin tightened, and gooseflesh rose along her arms. But that description could fit a lot of men. And she had been wrong before. Maybe Chester wasn’t gentle. Those red-rimmed eyes might hide a deeper problem, and she herself had felt he looked tormented at least once during their morning exchange.

She sighed. No use fussin’ around with thoughts of him anyhow. What with Miss Jenny pinning on the pattern, there was work to be done. Marylu smoothed her hand over the fabric, and she recalled the impulsive touch of her hand upon his hair earlier.

“You’re blushing, Marylu.” Jenny’s eyes sparkled with pure mischief.

Miffed at having been caught woolgathering about the man, again, she opened her mouth then closed it with a snap.

“You look like a fish!” Jenny’s laughter tinkled across the table that separated them.

Heat rose up Marylu’s neck and fanned into her cheeks. She pressed her hands to the warmth and averted her face.

Jenny’s mirth stuttered to a stop. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I don’t ever get to see you so flustered, and I, well, I couldn’t resist.”

Marylu felt her friend’s light touch on her shoulder and raised her head.

“There’s something about him, isn’t there?” Her friend’s eyes were serious now.

Marylu didn’t respond. Didn’t want to. Days ago she would have called herself or anyone else four kinds of fool for thinking there would ever be another man to pique her interest. Now she wasn’t so sure.

But Chester, a murderer? If nothing else, she wanted to know his story. Mrs. Burns’s wagging tongue did little to convince her that Chester was indeed guilty of taking someone else’s life. Besides, she had long ago learned it best not to believe something until she heard it straight from the source.

Jenny picked up the edge of the material and poised to make the first cut. “You know that Mrs. Burns sometimes gets things wrong.”

It was as if Jenny had read her mind. Though her friend’s words were a much kinder explanation of Mrs. Burns’s motive than she would have offered up. “I’ll be making sure of the story. You can count on it.”

Cooper opened his big trap as soon as Marylu stepped through the door and into the kitchen.

“Heard you’ve got yourself some butchering to do tonight.”

She raised a brow and spun a circle at her ear with an index finger. “You finally gone plumb crazy. What butchering?”

Cooper ran a hand over his close-cropped, more-scalp-than-anything hair. “Hair butchering. Chester was wide-eyed over the idea of coming here this evening. If that boy could talk proper, he’d have been spilling words all afternoon.”