The Wedding Dress(76)

“What if your letters were the only grounding to sanity he had in the midst of battle? What if marrying Joel wasn’t about you, Hillary. What if it was all about Joel? Only for Joel? What if God loved him so much he gave him a bride before he died? Would that be okay with you? Would it?” Charlotte shifted into gear and off the clutch. The car surged forward, the road ahead blurry.

Hillary tucked forward and muffled her weeping with her face in her hands, her shoulders shimmering with rolling sobs.

Charlotte braked at the residence entrance and smoothed her hand over Hillary’s back. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” She waited, whispering, “Jesus, Jesus,” every now and then.

The breeze through the trees whistled comfort through the car. After a long while, Hillary sat up, wiped her face with the back of her hand, and gazed out the window.

Charlotte shifted into gear and eased on the gas. As she turned onto the road, Hillary reached over and squeezed her hand.





Chapter Nineteen



Emily





Emily sat alone in the downtown holding cell, waiting for Father or Phillip, someone, to rescue her. The block room with a barred door was cold and dark, chilling Emily to the bone. And to the heart.

Mother had come with Jefferson and demanded her release, but the warrant officer said bail must be posted. A thousand dollars. A thousand dollars. A working man’s annual wage. Of course, Father could afford it, but with the banks closed for the day, would he be able to get the money?

As Emily was escorted to her cell, Mother insisted—demanded—the officer give her the cloak she’d brought for her. “I’m off to find your father. Emily, be strong, you’re a Canton.”

But Emily had crumbled, weeping, so limp the officer had to drag her to the holding area.

When the iron door clanked behind her, she collapsed, barely landing on the worn, moldy cot. For long, sorrowful minutes, she heard nothing but her own sobs.

Now she sat against the stone wall, drawing her cloak around her shoulders. The November chill seeped through the concrete wall and gathered around her arms and legs.

She’d envisioned many things about her future. But being arrested and locked in a cell was never one of them.

How humiliating. Devastating. If only she were as strong and courageous as Mother implored her to be. She wanted to quit, promise to never visit Taffy Hayes again. She wasn’t a Canton. She was a coward.

Moving to her feet, Emily gripped the cell bars and pressed her face through a small square, trying to see down the dark corridor. “Hello. Somebody, please. Hello?”

Would they ever come for her? Or leave her to rot, trapped and forgotten?

With sagging shoulders and a weary heart, Emily dropped to the cot again and drew her legs to her chest, trying not to dwell on the dark walls inching in around her. But she could think of nothing but the stony chill in the claustrophobic box.

Who had done this to her? Who hated her so much to swear out a warrant for her arrest?

Emily tossed off her cloak as her thoughts began to boil. This whole ordeal was unthinkable. Downright absurd.

She had no enemies that she knew of. Back on her feet, she wrung her hands, her thumb pressing against her bare ring finger.

The officer took her engagement ring. For safekeeping, so he said. If she’d known she would be held for so long, she’d have demanded the ring be her ransom.

It was certainly worth a thousand dollars. Emily exhaled at the amount. One thousand dollars. Even her bail seemed of absurd proportions.

A steel door slammed. She jumped to the bars and angled her face to see the single gas light glowing on the far wall. Voices drifted toward her, then faded.

“Hey there . . . hello? I’m Emily Canton,” she shouted from the bottom of her belly. “Please release me.”

The voices faded, then disappeared. She sighed. They weren’t coming for her.

What the dickens happened to Mother? To Father? Why wasn’t Phillip racing to her rescue? Hours had passed since she arrived at the jail. Night darkened the street-side barred window and the sounds of commerce had long since faded.

Emily retrieved her cloak and wrapped it around herself. How could they just leave her in here?

A door clicked. Emily jumped up and angled again to see down the corridor. A bright light broke against the wall. A double set of footfalls echoed. The gait and stride didn’t ring familiar. But then a face, a very familiar, handsome face rounded the corner.

“Daniel.” Emily stretched her hands through the bars, her pulse drumming in her ears. “What are you doing here?”

He gathered her hands in his. “I was going to ask you the same.”

“I’m accused of breaking a Jim Crow law.”

He laughed, removing his cap, bunching it in his hand. “What Democrat did you make angry, darling?”

“Do you think this is funny, Daniel Ludlow? I’m behind bars. Look around. I’m locked in this dank, dark, cold place. For what? Hiring Taffy Hayes to make my dress and visiting her shop.”

“Now you know what it’s like to be on the other side. You’ll have deeper compassion for others who are falsely accused.”

“I do have compassion for them.” Though in recent light, she’d doubted the depth of her commitment. “Did you come here to make fun of me?”