Thursday's Child (Out of Time #5) (4 page)

Mrs. Nolan did more than that. She gave them a tour of the entire building, from the kitchens to the laundry. She spoke very highly of their private benefactors, but no matter how generous, they were always in need of more.

While the orphanage wasn't as Dickensian as Simon had feared it would be, it was far from the home these children deserved. Whether they'd been left parentless from cholera or yellow fever, accident or disaster, there were over fifty children here and many more in other orphanages around the county.

Simon had read about the orphan trains from large cities like New York where thousands of homeless children were shipped off like cargo to farming states in hope of being taken in. In rural places like Natchez, the healthy boys were probably “adopted” out and trained as farm hands locally. The girls faced a more difficult path. Women had few options in the 1850's and a poor woman fewer still. The future for these poor children was anything but bright.

“And this is our boy's dormitory,” Mrs. Nolan explained as she led them into a room lined on each side with a dozen small beds. “We can expand and house up to seventy-five children, but that puts a strain on resources in a most dire way.”

A few of the boys looked up and stared at their visitors, their eyes already hardened by a life of disappointments. One small boy just looked frightened and confused and quickly hid under his blanket and Simon felt a surge of guilt for having thought his childhood compared to this. He'd wanted for nothing but affection. These children had nothing, nothing at all.

Elizabeth slipped her arm through Simon's and gave his bicep a comforting squeeze. “Simon?”

The understanding and warmth in her eyes were almost his undoing. She tugged on his arm slightly and nodded toward the doorway. He cleared his throat and gave the boys one last look before following Mrs. Nolan on the rest of her tour.

They ended in the girls' dormitory, a mirror of the boys on the opposite end of the building. Elizabeth took the lead then, asking questions and finally circling around to their intent. “We understand that you lost a child recently. A Mary Stewart?”

Mrs. Nolan's face dropped in genuine sadness. As much of a drill sergeant she'd been with the boys outside, it was obvious she cared for the children in her charge. “Poor girl,” she said as her eyes drifted to an empty bunk at the far end of the room. “She'd just come to us, too. Perhaps a month. Passed away just a week before her eighth birthday.”

“What happened to her family?” Elizabeth asked.

“Mother abandoned her, near as I can tell. Doctor Walker brought her to us, but she was ill and there was nothing to be done, I'm afraid. The ague, you see.”

Elizabeth cooed her understanding. “And the father?”

Mrs. Nolan shook her head. “Nowhere to be seen, I'm afraid.”

Of course, her father could be dead, but there was a much more likely possibility that he'd never been present at all. The thought of it made Simon's temper flare.

A loud crash came from another room followed by a scream and then peels of laughter. Mrs. Nolan frowned. “Will you excuse me for just a moment?”

“Of course,” Elizabeth said and Mrs. Nolan hurried, trying to look like she wasn't, toward the door. She closed the double doors behind her, but it did little to muffle her angry rebukes.

Elizabeth stifled a laugh and turned her attention to a nearby bed where a little girl with big round eyes sat playing nervously with her doll. “Hello, my name's Elizabeth's. What's yours?”

The girl answered softly. “Megan.”

“And who's this?” Elizabeth asked pointing at the girl's broken doll and sitting down on the bed next to her. The girl was shy at first, but Elizabeth could charm the birds from trees and it wasn't long before the little girl was smiling and delightedly telling her everything about her doll, Annie. A few other girls gathered around.

Simon lingered by the door. The girls were clearly far less enamored with him than with Elizabeth. Except for one. He'd seen her when they'd first come in. She stood apart from the others, halfway in and halfway out of the door at the far end of the room. Her hair was long and straight and a lovely shade of chestnut. Her little round face was pale and sad. She stood on tiptoe, nervous and frightened, as if she wasn't supposed to be there at all. When she saw him, her expression was almost one of surprise. She'd quickly hidden herself behind the doorway, but he saw her peeking out, watching him. He could see a small blue ribbon tied to her wrist. After a few minutes, when he caught her leaning further into the room, he offered her a smile.

Slowly, almost afraid to let it come, she smiled back. Emboldened, he took a step toward her when the doors behind him opened and Mrs. Nolan came bursting back into the room. “That Wilkins boy will be the death of me yet! I'm so sorry to have kept you waiting.”

“That's all right,” Elizabeth said as she gently touched little Megan's cheek. “We were fine on our own, weren't we?” she said more to the girls than to Mrs. Nolan. The girls nodded vigorously and Simon wondered just what she and the little girls had been talking about.

They said their goodbyes to the girls and Simon's eyes sought out the little girl at the far end of the room, but she was gone.

Mrs. Nolan led them back into the main foyer. “As you can see, we have a long way to go before we are where we need to be, but we do our best.”

“Very impressive,” Simon said. “And I'm sure the Female Charitable Society is quite pleased with the work you do.”

Mrs. Nolan waved away the compliment, but it was clear she was pleased. “They give more than money. Some of them. Miss Stanton in particular. Fine woman. Hard worker. Not afraid to march on the front lines.”

“I'd love to talk to her. Do you think that would be all right?” Elizabeth asked.

Mrs. Nolan laughed. “Oh, she'll talk. It's getting her to stop that's the trick.” She jotted down an address and handed it to Elizabeth. “She's not home today, over in Port Gibson until tomorrow. But I'm sure she'd be happy to speak to you.”

“Thank you.”

While they'd talked Simon had dug around inside his wallet. He'd brought more money than they would need. Despite its remarkable number, he felt almost ashamed not to offer more as he held out a five hundred dollar bill. “I'm sure you'll put this to good use.”

Mrs. Nolan's eyes bulged and she barely restrained herself from snatching it from his hand. She managed to compose herself and said, “That's very generous of you, Mr. Cross,” and then added to include Elizabeth, “both of you.”

They gave their thanks for the tour and walked out into the now midday sun. It was hot and still.

Simon let out a cleansing breath.

“Are you all right?” Elizabeth asked.

He nodded.

“We can't help them all,” she said.

He looked down at her. “But we can help the one.”

Elizabeth smiled and leaned into his side. “That we can.”

Chapter Four

Elizabeth found a small twig that looked a little like one of Tim Burton's characters and stuck it into the soft, moist dirt just outside the bark house she'd built. The little hut was the perfect size for a fairy or a borrower or the spider crawling up her arm.

She stifled a scream and shook the spider away.

Simon shushed her and glowered from under the hood of his cloak. Elizabeth whispered her apology and, abandoning her mini-construction site, shifted her position on the large roots of the large oak tree. Score one for the petticoats. If she'd been wearing anything else, her bum would have been sore and cold by now.

They'd been at the cemetery less than an hour so far, but patience and stillness were not on Elizabeth's resume. Unsure how long the trip from town would take them at night, they'd allowed themselves a large buffer to ensure they arrived well before 9 p.m. They'd made very good time and were there with an hour to kill. They secreted their horse and buggy well away from the road in the woods behind them, and then settled behind an enormous oak tree. Its broad trunk, at least seven feet across, great gnarled roots and location, just off to the side of Catholic Hill, made it the best spot to wait for…whatever it was they were waiting for.

This particular section of the cemetery wasn't ideal for a stakeout. Not that any part of a cemetery was, but the poor section of Catholic Hill was nearly bald and they were forced to hide at least twenty yards away. Luckily, the moon was three-quarters full and the clouds hadn't settled in for the night.

The plaintive cry of a young female fox pierced the night, startling Elizabeth. Again. As if to answer, a whip-poor-will began its whistling song. Elizabeth pulled her cape more tightly about her shoulders. The hot day had given way to a cool evening, although it wasn't the cold that made her shiver.

No matter how much she'd seen in her life, sitting in a graveyard at night was just down right eerie. The moonlight touched the marble headstones in the distance and made them appear to glow like ghosts in an old black and white movie, coming and going as clouds traveled across the face of the moon. Trees seemed to shift positions, branches reaching out like arms. Odd sounds from the forest behind her all provoked her imagination to a series of unhelpful thoughts.

Through it all, Simon sat remarkably still. His large dark cloak made him look as mysterious as the world around him. Sadly, he hadn't appreciated her witty Dred Pirate Roberts reference at the store and Elizabeth made a mental note to show him
The Princess Bride
when they returned home.

Carefully, Elizabeth peeked around her side of the large tree trunk and scanned the night. It was disconcerting not knowing what they were waiting for. Considering their past adventures and some of the things they'd read in Sebastian's journal,
anything
could be out there.

Apprehensively, her eyes skimmed along the grass looking for pale zombie fingers clawing their way up through the earth.
Please don't let it be zombies, or vampires,
she added silently. Once was enough. Despite the cold, dead feeling of the surrounding landscape, it was fertile ground for her imagination, and she could feel her pulse begin to race.

Simon glanced over at her and she could see his reassuring eyes deep in the shadows of his hood. It was enough to stop the Kentucky Derby that was threatening to start in her chest, but the anxiety of waiting was starting to prickle along her skin like an electrical current.

Elizabeth felt another wave of the fidgets coming on when Simon sat up a little straighter and reached a hand out to still her. Just over a small rise on the far side of Catholic Hill, Elizabeth could hear something approaching from the North. Even on the soft grass and dirt, there was no mistaking the sound of a horse's footfalls as it slowed from a trot to a walk. At least, she hoped it was a horse and not a minotaur or something half this and half that.

She and Simon carefully peered out from their hiding place and strained to see more clearly in the dark. A cloudbank had settled in front of the moon and what light there was became diffused and shallow. Slowly, a rider emerged from the shadows. She felt awash with relief. It was a man.

He pulled up his horse and eased out of the saddle. Looking around furtively, he hurriedly walked over to Catholic Hill. He wore a large hat and an oversized overcoat; the night's shadows obscured his face.

Simon and Elizabeth kept as still as possible. The last thing they wanted was to be seen, and judging from the man's late-night appearance and nervous body language, he felt the same way.

Even though anonymous crosses marked the graves, the freshly turned earth made it easy to discern which was Mary's. The man walked directly to her grave, clearly there to visit hers and no other.

The man was closer now, but Elizabeth couldn't make out his face. He was still too far away and it was far too dark.

The man stood solemnly over the grave for a long moment before reaching inside his coat. Elizabeth felt Simon tense next to her. She knew his hand had shifted slightly under his cloak and was now gripping the handle of the Colt-45 they'd brought with them.

The man unbuttoned his jacket and pulled out a small bouquet of flowers he'd kept safely tucked away. Slowly, almost painfully, he knelt down and laid them on the grave beneath the cross. As he stood up, something in their direction caught his eye. He looked over quickly to the woods behind where Simon and Elizabeth hid and then stood frozen in place.

Elizabeth spun around to try to see what he'd seen. Her eyes and imagination must have still been in four-wheel drive, because she could have sworn she saw a little girl in a white dress peering out from the wood.

Elizabeth looked back to the man, who was still staring past their hiding place toward the forest beyond. When Elizabeth looked again the fox she'd heard earlier poked its face out of the woods and then disappeared. Elizabeth shook her head and let out a slow breath. Darn fox.

The man shook himself out of his stupor and then, with new urgency, hurried back to his horse. He mounted in one easy step, reined his horse around and rode straight for them.

Elizabeth's heart raced. Had he seen them? Simon's arms pulled her close. He pressed them both into the base of the tree and covered her quickly with his cloak.

The hoof beats grew louder, closer, until it sounded like he was right on top of them. Suddenly, the horse whinnied and shied. He tried to urge the animal on, but it refused, and reared and pranced around nervously. From under the edge of the cloak, all Elizabeth could see were the horse's legs and the man's boots in the stirrups as he dug his heels into the horse's flank. But still, the animal refused to move. It snorted and cried.

Elizabeth wrapped her fingers around one of the oak tree's roots and tried to slow her heart. If he just looked down, he would see them. For a moment, she felt just like a little hobbit hiding from the Nazgul. Except, luckily for her, this rider appeared to be flesh and blood. She hoped.

After a long moment that hung heavy in the damp air, the man grunted in defeat and eased his horse back away. The horse and rider slipped from her narrow view under the cloak. Elizabeth could hear the horse begin to calm, and and then the man urged it on and both horse and rider disappeared into the distance and into the darkness.