Unending Devotion (Michigan Brides #1)(77)

“Apparently orphan girls are good for something, huh?”

“What happened? What did he do?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to know, but anger pushed her up to her knees, and she grabbed Daisy, forcing her to turn over and face her.

“From the very first day, he made me uncomfortable with his attention and his too-wide smiles.” Daisy twisted away from her, as if she were ashamed to look at her. “Eventually, he started touching me. Not openly—almost like the bumps and brushes were accidents.”

Lily wanted to scream at her to stop. She didn’t want to hear anything more. She couldn’t bear to think she’d pushed Daisy to live with the Wretchams. If she hadn’t, none of the heartache would have happened.

But Daisy continued in a monotone. “Finally one day, when Mrs. Wretcham was gone visiting neighbors, he found me alone in the barn. One of the cats had just had kittens. They barely had their eyes open . . .”

Lily closed her eyes to block out the scene. But suddenly all she could see was Daisy kneeling in the warm hay with the earthy scent of freshly harvested wheat all around and sunlight streaming in one of the windows. The downy fur of the kittens, their rumbling purrs and soft mews comforting her.

“He tried to kiss me. And when I wouldn’t cooperate like he wanted, he pulled me into one of the empty stalls, and . . .”

Revulsion swelled in Lily’s throat, and for a moment she had to fight a wave of bitter nausea. She wanted to weep at the picture of her sweet little Daisy being hurt in that way. How had she let this happen to her? How had she failed to protect her sister so horribly?

“After the first couple of times, I didn’t fight him anymore,” Daisy said weakly. “But I didn’t want to stay there—”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Lily’s voice caught the edge of a sob. “Why didn’t you come to me? I could have helped you.”

“What could you have done? Taken me to live with the sick woman and grumpy old man you were staying with? And let him have his way with me too?”

“Oren wouldn’t have dreamed of defiling you.” If only she’d let Daisy live with Oren and Betty in the first place. “He protected my honor more times than I can count.”

Daisy shrugged, as if she didn’t believe her—or care. “When I heard about how much money girls were making in the taverns in the lumber camps, I figured I could go for a few months, make my fortune, and then come get you.”

The pressure of the stifled sobs in Lily’s chest threatened to cut off her breathing. She could only imagine how dirty Daisy must have felt after losing her innocence to Mr. Wretcham, how defiled, how violated. Had she also felt hopeless? Had she decided that since one bad man had used her, she was unworthy of any good man?

“Oh, Daisy.” Lily squeezed the words past the tightness in her throat. “I wish you would have let me help you.”

Daisy didn’t say anything. Instead she reached for the oval picture frame on the bedstead table—the miniature portrait of their parents, the only thing either of them owned to connect them to the family they’d once had so briefly.

Lily had taken it out of her sack earlier and placed it where they could both see it. For all they’d been through, they were still a family. And from now on, they’d never be apart again.

Daisy ran her finger around the corroded silver edge. The unsmiling faces of their parents stared at them.

Lily had wanted to show her parents she’d found Daisy, and maybe they’d be happy with her again. But for some reason, their eyes were still as accusing as always.

With a sigh, Daisy placed the frame gingerly back onto the table, facedown.

Did she feel their censure too?

“I want you to know I still love you,” Lily whispered. “You’re still precious to me.”

Daisy reached for her hand and slipped her fingers into it.

Lily squeezed. “I’ll make sure no one ever hurts you again.”

“I’m okay, Lily. Really I am.” The color had come back into the girl’s face, and she hadn’t vomited that morning. She’d even been able to eat a little breakfast from the tray Mrs. McCormick had brought.

“Maybe you’ll be able to take a bath later,” Lily said, only because Mrs. McCormick had already offered to have the maid draw up hot water for them. “They have a real bathroom with a big tub.”

Daisy’s eyes lit. “I’ve never had a bath in a real tub.”

Lily thought back to all the years they’d had to stand in line for baths. Only the first few in line had ever gotten anything but cold, dirty water. “We might not have had much, but we always had each other.”

“Remember when we’d lie on our bed together at night and play the ‘what if’ game?”

Lily smiled. All those years in the orphanages, before falling asleep each night, they’d snuggle together in their narrow bed and one of them would start the game by saying “what if . . .” and fill it in with something they longed for.

“Do you remember when I said, ‘What if we could have our own room, with a big bed, with warm blankets’?”

A sudden lump lodged in Lily’s throat. She nodded.

Daisy gazed around the luxurious suite, taking in every elegant item. “What if this were really ours?”

The lump in Lily’s throat pushed higher.