Page 25

Church was a mistake. Sara realized it as soon as they came through the doors.

It was Mrs. Hobbes who had all but herded her out the door. “It’s the Sabbath,” she’d said when Sara attempted to sneak back to her room after breakfast.

“Oh, but I don’t think—”

“We all go to Sunday service.” Mrs. Hobbes’s voice brooked no argument.

Sara fetched her bonnet and set off beside Mrs. Hobbes, a few steps behind James and Evie.

That disastrous moment in the parlor yesterday evening had only reinforced the need to keep her distance.

Her heart had been frozen so long, she’d foolishly thought herself impervious to attraction.

It was humbling to realize how susceptible she was to a handsome face and a few kind words.

Another minute alone with James and she might have been tempted to step into the circle of his arms.

St. Andrew’s was smaller than the imposing church she’d attended with her father, the facade a warm plastered brick instead of towering limestone. She let out a long breath. She was unlikely to see anyone who would recognize her.

The glare of curious eyes burned into her back as she sat in James’s pew, Evie between them. She kept her eyes on the ground in front of her and her face shielded by the straw brim of her bonnet. The reverend rose and began the service, the words so familiar, they were part of her very bones.

“The Lord also will be a refuge for the oppressed, a refuge in times of trouble.” The minister’s voice pierced her fog, the words calling back to another time, a time she’d prayed expecting an answer.

“And they that know thy name will put their trust in thee: for thou, Lord, hast not forsaken them that seek thee.”

Church had once been her refuge. Outside of books, it was the only place her child’s heart had found love and comfort. But she’d turned her back on this place when Colin died. When God had turned his back on her.

Sara inhaled sharply, earning a glance from Evie. She forced a smile and turned her attention back to the sermon. She shouldn’t put her trust in anyone. Not God. Not even a sweet little girl named Evie.

Her only thought after the service was escape, but they were hemmed in by congregants greeting each other and catching up on the news of the week.

“I heard he’d taken her on.” A familiar voice slid across the aisle, chilling Sara.

Mrs. Cooper.

There was no way to avoid her. Sara was trapped between Mrs. Hobbes, who waited for her turn to shake the minister’s hand, and James, deep in conversation with the man in the next pew.

Mrs. Cooper leaned closer to the woman beside her. “Can you imagine, putting your child’s life in the hands of a laundress?”

Evie’s hand slipped into hers. Sara looked down. Evie smiled up at her and rolled her eyes. Warmth entered Sara’s frozen limbs, warmth that started where her hand connected to Evie’s and spread to lodge somewhere in her chest, rich and sweet.

“Don’t know what they would have done without her, and that’s the truth.” Mrs. Hobbes directed her words across the aisle where Mrs. Cooper and her cronies stood. The curious eyes of the ladies turned to Sara as Mrs. Hobbes told the story of Evie’s near brush with death.

Sara gripped the back of the pew in front of her, unable to credit what she was hearing. Evie’s support was endearing but hardly surprising. But to have the suspicious Mrs. Hobbes defend her was something else entirely.

Finally, they made it to the street. Evie turned to Sara. “Are you hungry? Mrs. Hobbes gets a half day today, so we go to the Inn for dinner. Come on.” She set off in the direction of Cooper’s Inn, pulling Sara behind her.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly...” Her stomach tightened just thinking of the gossip if she were seen sitting down to dinner with Evie and James. And in Cooper’s Inn, of all places.

“Evie.” The edge of warning in James’s deep voice brought Evie to a stop. “It’s also Sara’s half day. She no doubt has things she’d like to do.”

Sara grasped the excuse like a lifeline. “Yes, indeed.” She was planning to visit Granny, but she hesitated to mention it lest Evie would want to come. She couldn’t picture James Kinney allowing that. “I’ll... see you later. Enjoy your dinner.”

She fetched the sack of supplies she’d purchased with the money left over from her dress. Tea and biscuits, soft bread and a wheel of cheese.

Mrs. Hobbes looked up from her seat at the hearth as Sara entered, her gaze as guarded and assessing as ever.

“Thank you... for what you did.” Sara surprised herself at the words that burst out of her mouth. A frozen part of Sara’s heart had thawed at Mrs. Hobbes’s defense. Friendship. She’d almost forgotten what it felt like.

No smile softened the woman’s features. “I won’t have gossip about my lamb. She’s got a hard enough go as it is.”

“Well, I appreciated your words.”

“To think, we trusted that woman with our Evie.” Mrs. Hobbes continued as though Sara hadn’t spoken.

“I encouraged it, you know, her taking classes there.” Sara eased into a chair, not taking her eyes from Mrs. Hobbes.

“Almost broke her spirit.” The housekeeper paused, turning her attention back to her tea.

“It doesn’t look right, a young thing like you staying with no mistress in the house, but I’ll do my best to put a good face on it.

” She sent Sara a fierce glare. “I’ve never seen Evie as happy as she is now.

I don’t want her heart broken.” There was a warning in her voice, a reserve in her manner that didn’t offend Sara.

In a way, it drew her closer, this shared desire to protect one lovable, motherless girl.

“I don’t want that either,” Sara managed, her throat clogged with emotion.

“I’m not a fool,” Mrs. Hobbes continued.

“You’re no more a poor washerwoman than I’m a duchess.

” Sara’s grip tightened around the sack in her hands.

“I suppose you’ve your reasons for keeping mum, and I won’t push.

” She drained her cup of tea, then rose with a smooth motion to face Sara. “I’m glad we understand each other.”

Sara smiled uncertainly and nodded, her mind spinning.

Just what exactly did Mrs. Hobbes understand about her?

She wished she were brave enough to ask.

But that could lead to a conversation she had no intention of having, to memories of her father and a glittering world she didn’t believe in anymore.

She was Sara O’Connor now. Sally Ballantine was dead and buried and destined to stay that way.

The house was quiet without Sara. He and Evie read in front of the parlor fire, waiting for the sound of her return. At least, that’s what it seemed, for they both started at every noise and Evie rose more than once to peek out the window.

“She’s back,” Evie said finally, running to the door.

But Sara wasn’t the same woman who’d left three hours earlier. Her eyes were wide with distress, her mouth trembling.

“What’s wrong?” He couldn’t mask the panic in his voice.

“I... I’m sorry, sir. I’d have given more notice, but—”

She was leaving them. “You can’t give notice.” His voice rose. Didn’t she know how much Evie—how much they needed her?

“Mr. Kinney, please. Granny’s sick. I need to go back.”

Evie ducked in front of him. “Oh, no. Does Granny have what I had?”

“No, no.” Sara sent Evie a reassuring smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “She hasn’t been well for months now.” She took a shuddering breath and her eyes flew back to James, filled with worry and fear. “It’s her heart. I only came back to get the doctor. And to tell you.”

“What did he say?”

Her throat worked. “He won’t come.”

James ran a distracted hand through his hair, his mind fixated on one point. “It’s not safe. It will be dark soon.”

“I’ve lived in Irish Town for years. I know how to watch out for myself.” Her lips firmed.

“You can’t go there alone at night.” Even to his own ears, he sounded harsh. His smooth-spoken ways seemed to desert him around her.

Sara let out a sigh that was more like a shudder. “I must. She was so weak... I’ve never seen her like this.” Her eyes grew bright with unshed tears. “I don’t know how much time I have, but I need to go. She’s all I have left of Colin.”

Colin. Her husband. James cursed himself for being an insensitive clod. She was hurting and he was snapping orders as though she were a clerk in the courthouse.

“Mrs. Hobbes,” he called down the hall to the kitchen. “Would you pack some bread and cheese we can eat on the way?”

Sara followed him. “Mr. Kinney, what are you about?”

“I’m taking you, of course.” He bent down to peer into Evie’s bright, curious eyes that were following every development. “Run to the livery and order the carriage, poppet.”

Evie nodded and dashed out the door.

“There is no need to put yourself to so much trouble, sir. I can walk.”

“You’ll get there twice as fast in the carriage.”

She looked down. “I know how you feel about Irish Town. There’s no need to expose yourself to it.”

He took a step closer, crossing his arms. “You know precious little about me, Sara O’Connor, if you think that.” Maybe once he’d avoided Irish Town, but he’d learned to see past the dirt and stench to the good people who lived there. Sara had taught him that. “I’m coming.”

For a moment Sara stared, her mouth slightly open as though she didn’t know how to answer him. “Well. I... Thank you.”

Evie darted in the door. “I told them to hurry,” she said, catching her breath. Her eyes were hopeful. “May I—”

“No.” James took one look at her and shook his head. “You’ll stay here with Mrs. Hobbes.”

“But Papa—”

“Evangeline Kinney, you will do as I say.” He saw the mulish tilt to her chin and bent to whisper into her ear. “Sara will worry about you if you come along. She’ll be afraid you’ll take sick again. She’s already upset, you can see that for yourself.”

They both looked at Sara, who paced the front porch, her eyes trained for the first sight of the carriage.

Evie nodded. “All right, Papa.” Evie held up her arms and he hugged her tightly. She tugged his head down to her level and whispered into his ear. “Make sure you bring her back.”

James nodded. “I will.” He’d make sure Sara got safely to Granny, ensure everything possible was done to help her. Then, he’d make sure Sara came back here where she belonged.

His carriage turned out of the mews and stopped in front of the gate. James tossed the stable boy a coin and held out his hand to help Sara up.

She paused with one foot on the step and her eyes met his, full of an emotion he couldn’t name, half worry, half relief. Her fingers tightened around his for a moment before she took her seat. After all she’d done for him, he was finally able to do something for her and it made him... happy.

Daylight was beginning to fade as they set off and the wind was sharp with the smell of snow. She must be cold in her bonnet and shawl, though she gave no sign of it. She sat perched on the edge of the seat, as though she could urge the horses faster with the momentum of her body.

“Is she your mother-in-law?” he asked, unable to curb his curiosity any longer.

Sara’s face was serious, the corners of her mouth turned down in sadness.

“My grandmother-in-law, though she was more like a mother to Colin than his own.” She bit her lip and James primed himself to ask another prying question.

Thankfully, she continued. “She raised the grandchildren while the parents worked. When Colin and I married, she was the only one who supported us.” Sara paused, clearing her throat.

“My family didn’t... approve of the match. ”

James sat back, letting her words sink in. “But after your husband died, surely you could have gone back...?”

“They cast me off, said I was dead to them.”

James imagined never seeing Evie again. Impossible. What sort of family would make a pronouncement like that?

“Granny O’Connor is the only reason I survived. She gave me a home and taught me her trade.” Sara’s voice broke and he fought the urge to put an arm around her.

“I’m sorry.” He was conscious of the inadequacy of the words, but they were true, nonetheless. He was sorry her family had rejected her, sorry she’d had to work so hard just to stay alive. He was sorry she’d been working for him instead of caring for Granny.

He flicked the reins, urging the mare forward. He couldn’t go back and change the past, but he could do everything in his power to get her to Granny O’Connor in time.