by admin | Jun 12, 2008 | Books
It is time to play a Wild Card! Every now and then, a book that I have chosen to read is going to pop up as a FIRST Wild Card Tour. Get dealt into the game! (Just click the button!) Wild Card Tours feature an author and his/her book’s FIRST chapter!
You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
Today’s Wild Card author is:
and her book:
A Promise for Tomorrow
Randall House Publications (March 25, 2008)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Sara DuBose is a motivational speaker and author of three other novels: Where Hearts Live, Where Love Grows, and Where Memories Linger. Sara is also author of Conquering Anxiety, published by the Presbyterian Church in America. Her other writing credits include numerous articles and stories for publications such as The Atlanta Journal-Constitution, Today’s Christian Woman, Virtue, Decision, The Christian Reader, and Family Life Today. She also appears in several anthologies published by Multnomah and Barbour. Sara received a first place fiction award from Putting Your Passion into Print and a first place fiction award from the Southeastern Writer’s Association. She currently travels as a speaker for seminars, festivals, civic clubs, schools and churches and may be contacted at www.saradubose.com. Sara and her husband live in Montgomery, Alabama. She is the mother of two daughters.
Visit her at her website.
AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Chapter One
It was 2:50 Friday afternoon. In ten more minutes, the bell would ring and we’d be free for summer vacation. I doodled on a piece of notebook paper trying not to squirm, but every little curly-cue I made represented another second toward freedom. Our teacher, Miss Puckett, was in the middle of her farewell address, so I pretended to listen. Actually, I’d become a pretty good pretender during those past nine months. Miss Puckett was so boring.
From the corner of my right eye, I detected a slight movement, and I heard someone in our class said, “What the h_______ . . . ?”
Since I rarely heard anything more than “gol-ly,” I turned to the window by my desk. A round face pressed against the windowpane near me. Nose first. Flat. The eyes set in a wide stare. As I watched, the freak’s hand flew up in a wave. Instinctively, I waved back.
“Flea,” Miss Puckett called. “Face the front. All of you.”
“Who is it?” I heard someone say.
“It’s just a curious child. That’s all.” Miss Puckett had a strange expression on her face. I decided she must be tired of seeing children.
About to obey Miss Puckett’s command, I then saw a second figure—a man. He grabbed the waving hand and pulled it down to his side. The man’s face appeared strained, like someone trying to open a pill bottle with his teeth. Maybe he was scolding the child. I couldn’t tell. Mesmerized, I watched him twist her arm. The child seemed to stumble and then regain her balance. I think I saw her shudder as she brushed against his overalls.
Miss Puckett’s voice again broke into my thoughts, and I belatedly turned to face her. “Gather your supplies, class. The bell is about to ring. Once again, have a good summer. It’s been a pleasure having you in fifth grade.”
Glancing back to the window, I watched the two figures disappear around the corner of the building.
“My pleasure is to get out of here,” Betty muttered. We occupied the two desks closest to the window on the back row. Betty also lived across the street from me. As we scrambled for our books and headed for the door, Betty said, “You wanna race home?”
“No,” I said. “It’s too hot. You go ahead.” I grabbed a wad of hair and held it up from my neck. “Do you have a rubber band so I can make a ponytail?”
“No. Fix it at your house. Say, you’re not gonna hang around here, are you?” Betty glanced back to the window.
“Not for long. But I do want to know who they are.”
“Oh, you’re so nosey. Aren’t you hungry?”
“Yeah, I guess but . . .”
“But what?” Betty countered.
“Nothing.”
“Well, I’m not gonna hang around school one minute longer than
I have to.”
As we left the room, my eyes drifted up to the calendar Miss Puckett kept posted by the door. Friday, May 27, 1955. I’d thought this day would never come. Betty scurried down the hall ahead of me but then called back over her shoulder.
“Can you come over later for a snack?”
“Sure.”
I watched Betty scoot down the steps and retrieve her bike parked next to mine in the metal frame stationed to the left of the front entrance.
Betty was my best friend, but we were about as different as corn bread and ice cream. She was always in a hurry to get home to her paper dolls or child’s embroidery kit. Not me. I liked to take my time, to look for adventure. But, frankly, it was hard to find adventure in Sugar Hill, especially when my dad was the pastor of the Presbyterian Church.
Standing at the top of the steps, my eyes gravitated to the familiar yellow bus parked in the bus lane. As usual, the bus driver’s shoulders were slumped toward the steering wheel. Somehow, I sensed he was glad this was his last round. What a boring job, driving 30 elementary and high-school kids back and forth through about 20 miles of Sugar Hill countryside.
Two or three other cars waited to pick up children. I recognized Mrs. Whittaker’s Buick. I knew it was Mrs. Whittaker’s because they were the only family in Sugar Hill with a Buick. Mr. Whittaker held the top spot with our Fairway Mill Company. No wonder he could drive a Buick. And, wouldn’t you know, his daughter, Gloria, had wound up in my fifth grade class right in the middle of the year. They were from Ohio, so Gloria knew more than the rest of us in the “hick town” of Sugar Hill, Alabama. At least, she thought so.
After the bus pulled away, I noticed an old black pickup truck parked across the street. It appeared empty and lonesome, like something you might see in a junkyard. I wondered if it might belong to the strange man who had jerked the girl away from the window.
Then I remembered how the odd couple had turned toward the side of our building. I decided to run down the steps and take the turn leading to the senior high school. Maybe I’d at least see my brother, Rand, and we could ride home together.
Like an old married couple, our two school buildings somehow managed to hold on to each other by a covered walkway at the lower level. A parking lot for teachers sat in front of the high-school building, but we kids used it for fancy bike riding and skating whenever we had the chance.
When I reached the high school, several of my brother’s friends nodded or waved. Rand’s best friend, Frank, liked to tease, so he called and said, “Hi, Squirt. Lookin’ for Rand? He’s already headed home.”
“No, I’m just lookin’. Did you see a weird man and a little girl come
by here?”
“You mean Ole Man Boyd and his daughter?”
“I guess.” I switched my books to the other hip.
“Yeah, I might have seen them earlier. Can’t imagine what they are
doing here though.” Frank rolled his eyes. “That girl can’t possibly go to school.”
“Why not?”
“She’s retarded. Haven’t you heard about Mavis?”
“No, not much. I do know a Mr. Boyd who lives out by the lumberyard.” I tossed my head in that general direction. “And everybody knows about his No Trespassing sign.”
“Yeah, right. Mavis is his daughter and she’s as crazy as a loon.”
Frank wheeled his eyes again, more dramatic this time. “I’ve heard she stays locked up most of the time. Reckon her dad can’t help it since he has to work.”
“No, I s’pose not,” I said.
“Watcha doing down this way?”
“I want to see the girl again. Guess I feel sorry for her.”
“Don’t waste your worry. Ain’t one thing you can do. Boyd probably dropped by here checking for some extra janitor work or something. Besides, isn’t your mama gonna wonder where you are?”
“Maybe. But. . . .”
“Look, go home. Okay?”
“I will in a minute. I hafta go inside to the bathroom.”
Frank gave me a funny grin. I suppose he wondered why I hadn’t thought to do that before leaving the elementary school. I just smiled and headed inside.
To tell the truth, I really wanted to stall, to decide what to do next. Somehow, I’d hoped this summer was going to be different from all the others. Maybe Gloria was right. Maybe we did live in a hick town.
When I stepped into the senior high girl’s bathroom, my stomach churned at the sight. The whole area looked like a crazy person had come through throwing paper towels and bits of toilet paper everywhere. Who had done it? Mavis crossed my mind, but one person couldn’t create this much damage in a quick trip to the bathroom. This mess seemed like a premeditated attack or maybe a misguided attempt to celebrate the end of school.
Suddenly, I wanted to wash my hands, but at the first sink, a pukey
feeling crawled inside my throat at the sight of a large chunk of gooey caramel nestled by the drain. On the mirror above the sink, a large blob of bright pink lipstick formed a grotesque kiss on the glass, blurring the strange dark eyes glaring back at me. In fact, as I studied my image in the mirror, my eyes seemed bloodshot. Maybe it was the lipstick. I frowned at my limp bangs and pale face and decided I’d better get out of there before my lunch came up.
As I stepped outside, the air felt warm and still. Several dark clouds swept across the sky. One cloud hovered over a small pecan grove nearby. Maybe we were in for a storm. The thought of cooling rain cheered me up as I headed back toward the hill.
When I reached the front of the elementary building to get my
bike, Mr. Boyd and Mavis were still nowhere in sight, even though the black pickup remained across the street.
Maybe the couple I’d seen wasn’t them after all. Maybe the creepy man had kidnapped that little girl and planned to take her who knew where. Right then, I decided to squelch the scary thoughts and go home.
As I rode past the high school and football field, my mind flashed back to Mr. Boyd’s No Trespassing sign. I remembered Rand and Iriding our bikes down by the lumberyard in the spring. Once we almost crossed his fence, but we chickened out.
When I got even with Corley’s cotton field, two things happened. It
started to sprinkle, and I was aware of something behind me. I hugged the left side of the road and peddled a little faster. A flash of lightening sliced the sky.
Just then, I saw our dog, Splendid, running toward me. She must have wondered why I wasn’t home yet, so she’d come searching for me. The minute she spotted the bike, she hesitated and started wagging her tail. I braked quickly, hoping to tell her to wait. But it didn’t happen. She bounded out into the road. I glanced behind me, recognized the pickup just as Splendid crossed, and yelled, “Stop!”
Then I heard the sound of brakes squealing, and I saw a splotch of blue denim overalls as the driver’s door flew open.
“Git that flea-bitten dog off the road!” the man yelled, stepping into the rain.
The pickup door blocked my view, and I couldn’t see Splendid. Was she okay? I threw my bike into the last thin row of cotton and ran. Half-sitting, half-lying in the middle of the road, Splendid looked limp. I didn’t see any blood, and she didn’t whimper. Then, as I bent over, her tail thumped the gravel. I prayed the rain would stop.
“Did you hit her?” I yelled over my shoulder, my teeth clenched.
“Naw, I didn’t hit the dumb dog, but you’d better git her out of
here before I do.”
Splendid gazed up at me with such sad eyes. I started to pick her up, but then I heard someone say, “She good dog. I touch her?”
The first thing I saw was scuffed white patent shoes, like the kind I wear on Sundays. But these shoes were dingy and definitely too tight for the thick feet they encased. I kept my hand on Splendid as my eyes traveled up the child’s body. I recognized the dress I’d seen in the window but now it hung on her like an old sheet thrown over a chair. And then her face. Flat nose. Blank eyes. Stringy blond hair.
The rain stopped.
Quickly, I turned back to Splendid because I felt her lick my hand.
She carefully staggered to her feet and wagged her tail.
“Are you all right, girl?” Splendid wagged some more. “Are you just
scared?”
“Hug her?” the child asked.
“No, Mavis, the dog might have mange.” The overalls moved forward toward the child.
“My dog does not have mange.” I gave the monster my best stare.
“We took her to the doctor for her shots two weeks ago. She is in perfect
health.”
“Perfect health until she gits killed. You’d better keep her off the
road.” He grabbed Mavis and pushed her toward the truck. “Get back
inside, Mavis.”
But Mavis balked, giving Splendid a longing look. “Touch?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “You may touch.” I met Boyd’s eyes as if to say, Don’t you dare try to stop her. A peculiar odor, or taste, seemed to hang in the air around Mr. Boyd, but I decided it must be my own sour stomach.
Mavis hesitated. Then, like a toddler reaching for an ornament on the Christmas tree, she ran her flat palm across Splendid’s head. Splendid must have sensed her need and licked her arm.
“He like me,” she said, nodding her head like a rag doll. “I had cat,
but he gone.”
“Of course he likes you. You are a sweet girl.”
“I sweet girl?”
“Yes,” I said, “I’m sure you are.”
“It’s time to go, Mavis.” Boyd adjusted the strap on his overalls and
pointed. “Get back in the truck.”
“I go now. Bye, dog.”
On a sudden impulse, Mavis reached down and patted Splendid again, but since Mr. Boyd was already holding the passenger side door open, I don’t think he noticed.
Splendid and I waited on the roadside by my bike as he cranked up. Without looking at me again, he pulled away, and I watched Mavis turn in her seat. I raised my hand at the last minute, and I saw her hand flutter just like it had done outside our fifth grade window.
MY REVIEW:
A Promise For Tomorrow is a nostalgic journey into a small town during the mid 1950’s. Told through the viewpoint of Flea (Fannie Lea), a young pastor’s daughter, A Promise For Tomorrow chronicles her life in Sugar Hill during the summer after fifth grade and the rest of that year. Although the atmosphere of the book brings to mind To Kill a Mockingbird, this book stands on its own and is in no way a copycat.
Throughout this beautifully told story, Flea and her brother Rand enjoy their youthful freedom yet are always aware of the expectations imposed upon them as pastor’s children. Nevertheless, their explorations take them into some dicey situations, one of which haunts Flea for months.
A Promise For Tomorrow is the story of one young girl’s dedication to doing what is right and the effects her compassion, courage, and faith have on others in her life. I would recommend A Promise For Tomorrow to anyone who enjoys a slow paced, nostalgic look back at recent history.
by admin | Jun 11, 2008 | Books
It is time to play a Wild Card! Every now and then, a book that I have chosen to read is going to pop up as a FIRST Wild Card Tour. Get dealt into the game! (Just click the button!) Wild Card Tours feature an author and his/her book’s FIRST chapter!
You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
Today’s Wild Card author is:
and her book:
A Bride so Fair
Barbour Publishing, Inc. (April 1, 2008)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
CAROL COX is a native of Arizona, whose time is devoted to being a pastor’s wife, mom to her grown son, and a home-school teacher to her daughter, church pianist, and youth worker. She loves anything that she can do with her family: reading, traveling, historical studies, and outdoor excursions. She is also open to new pursuits on her own, including genealogy research, crafts, and the local historical society. She plans to write more historical inspirational romance, in which her goals are to encourage Christian readers with entertaining and uplifting stories and to pique the interests of non-Christians who might read her novels.
Other Novels by Carol:
Fair Game, Ticket to Tomorrow, Land of Promise, Golden Gate Gazette-Love and Suspense Make Headlines in Historic San Francisco
Visit her at her website.
AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Chapter One
SEPTEMBER 1893
Stop, thief!” ?The commanding bellow cut through the pleas-ant chatter of the crowds strolling the grounds of the World’s Columbian Exposition.
Emily Ralston shielded her eyes against the noonday sun and scanned the gaily dressed fairgoers on Government Plaza, trying to spot the source of the commotion.
A lanky youth burst through a cluster of women and children on the far side of the plaza, scattering them like tenpins. Shrill exclamations followed him as he bolted past the ladies to the middle of the open area, where he slowed and glanced quickly from one end of its broad expanse to the other.
A stocky man in shirtsleeves charged through the same group, evoking more outraged squawks. He stopped short, gasping like a winded horse while he scanned the crowd.
“Hey, you!” he bellowed and started off in hot pursuit of the boy. In his haste, he collided with a young matron holding a small girl in her arms, nearly toppling them to the ground. The man halted long enough to steady the pair, although the infuriated look he cast in the boy’s direction showed his longing to continue the chase.
At the man’s angry shout, the fleeing youth looked over his shoulder and picked up speed. Emily saw him snap his hand to one side and watched a paper container arc through the air and disappear behind a potted palm.
Emily recognized the signs of someone doing something he shouldn’t. She balanced on the balls of her feet, poised for action. She could never keep up with the long-legged adolescent if she tried to follow him across the fairgrounds, but there was more than one way to foil a troublemaker.
The boy changed course and pounded across the pavement in her direction. Emily smiled. She waited until the last instant before he reached the spot where she stood then stepped into his path.
“Stop right there!” she demanded.
The boy’s eyes flared wide when he saw her blocking his escape. His feet scrambled for purchase as he veered abruptly to the right. Just as he passed, Emily darted forward and nabbed him by the ear.
“Ow!” The lad looked down at Emily with an astonished expression. “Leggo my ear!” He made as if to wrench himself out of her grasp, but a quick twist of her wrist brought him to his knees.
Emily allowed herself a brief moment of smugness. It wasn’t the first time she had been victorious against an opponent larger than herself. Growing up at the Collier Children’s Home had given her plenty of time to learn how to equalize a difference in size.
The stocky man raced up to them, puffing like a steam engine. “Thank you, miss,” he gasped. “That was quite a catch.”
Taking command of Emily’s captive, he seized the boy by his upper arm and jerked him to his feet. “Where are the goods you stole, you young guttersnipe?”
The look of alarm slid off the boy’s face, to be replaced by a cocky grin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course not,” the man mocked. “Why were you running, if you hadn’t just stolen a package of Cracker Jacks right off the counter of my stand?”
Emily felt her jaw go slack. Cracker Jacks? She had risked her own safety for nothing more than a container of the new popcorn, peanuts, and molasses confection?
Looking more confident by the second, the boy shook his head. “I was just walking along, and you started shouting and chasing me.” He shrugged. “I thought you must be crazy. No one could blame me for running when someone so much bigger than me was on my tail.”
His captor looked at Emily with a glint of humor shining in his eyes. “It doesn’t look to me like it takes all that much in the way of size to get you under control.” His grin faded, and he gave the boy a shake. “Now where are the Cracker Jacks you stole?”
The boy shrugged again. “I’m telling you, you’ve got the wrong person.”
Emily broke into the exchange. “Then what was that I saw you throw away?”
The youth paled, and the vendor turned his attention back to Emily. “You saw him throw something?”
“Behind that potted palm over there.” Emily walked briskly toward the plant and reached behind it, retrieving a paper package that rattled when she shook it. She returned to the waiting pair and held out the parcel. “Is this what you’re looking for?”
The man took it with a grateful smile. “Thank you, miss. I’ll be obliged if you’ll stay around until I summon one of the Columbian Guards so you can tell him what you saw.”
Emily shook her head. “I’m sorry. I work at the Children’s Building here on the fairgrounds, and my lunch break is nearly over.” From deep within the massive Manufactures Building, she heard the clock in its alabaster tower chime the three-quarter hour. If she wanted to keep her job, she’d better get back to work and look sharp about it.
The man’s face fell. “If you don’t, it will be my word against his. I left my nephew watching my stand so I could catch this young rascal, and who knows what kind of mess he’ll have made of things by the time I get back? The least you can do is help me out.”
Emily wavered. Her supervisor took a decidedly dim view of tardiness, but the smug expression on the boy’s face decided her. “All right, but only for a moment.”
It took far longer than that for the guard to finish taking
her statement. With the thanks of the vendor ringing in her ears, she set off once more toward the Children’s Building. In the distance, she heard a clock chiming the hour.
“Oh no.” She glanced from side to side, taking note of the throngs of people dotting the broad walkways. None of them seemed to be paying a bit of attention to her. Taking heart from this, Emily hiked up the hem of her skirt, planted her hand on top of her hat to keep it from blowing off, and sprinted headlong across the plaza, paying scant attention to the gleaming white buildings as she raced over the bridges spanning the lagoon to the Wooded Island and then to the far shore. From there, a quick dash put her at the front of the Children’s Building.
She slumped against the outer door with one palm pressed against her heaving chest. When she managed to catch her breath, she pushed the arched door open and stepped inside. If she could assume her seat behind the reception desk before—
“Your lunch hour ended precisely three minutes ago.”
Emily skidded to a halt and turned to face the gaunt woman standing against the opposite wall. “I’m sorry, Miss Strickland. I—”
“If you plan to continue working here, Miss Ralston, I would suggest you make it a point to be punctual.” Her supervisor’s cold stare left no doubt about her disapproval.
“Of course, ma’am.” Emily ordered her knees to quit shaking and tried her best to appear composed as she hung her straw boater on the hat rack and walked toward her desk. Lucy Welch, her blue eyes shining with sympathy, rose from the heavy wooden chair to let Emily take her seat.
Emily cast a grateful look at her friend; then she turned to bestow a wobbly smile upon the woman and boy who stood waiting in front of her desk. “How may I help you?”
“Could we finish here, please?” The young matron tapped her foot and looked daggers at Emily. “I would much rather be outside viewing the fair instead of waiting for you all to sort yourselves out. I’m not certain I want to leave Alexander here if this is any indication of the competency of your staff.”
At the edge of her vision, Emily saw Miss Strickland’s rigid posture grow even more erect. She fumbled with the heavy black book that lay open on her desk. “I apologize for the delay. I wouldn’t have been late, except—”
“Excuses are unacceptable.” Miss Strickland’s harsh voice broke in. “I don’t tolerate tardiness for any reason.”
Emily clamped her lips shut to hold back the explanation she longed to give. She ought to have known better than to tarry long enough to give the Columbian Guard her version of what had transpired, but she couldn’t find it within herself to let that boy get away with stealing the vendor’s merchandise.
She looked up at the boy’s mother and forced a smile. “If you’ll just give me some information, I’ll check Alexander in and you can be on your way.” She entered his name and his mother’s in the ledger then pinned a numbered tag to the boy’s back and handed his mother a claim check bearing the same number. “Please keep this in a safe place. You’ll need it when you come back to pick up your son. Miss Welch will take Alexander to the gymnasium. I’m sure he’ll enjoy that.”
She beckoned to Lucy, who had been hovering in the back-ground, then turned back to the boy’s mother. “Enjoy your time on the grounds. He will be well cared for.”
Looking somewhat mollified, the woman slipped the ticket into her reticule and turned to leave. Just before she reached the door, it swung open. A man in the uniform of the Columbian Guards smiled and held it open for her; then he stepped inside. His glance wavered between Miss Strickland and Emily before he approached the reception desk.
She stared up at him, panicking at the thought that her attempt to do the right thing was going to cause her even more difficulty. “I already told the other guard everything I know.”
Miss Strickland raised her eyebrows and moved toward the desk with a firm stride. “Bad enough to be tardy. What other trouble have you gotten yourself into?”
“It’s no trouble of this young lady’s making.” The guard stepped to one side, and Emily realized a small boy encased in a heavy woolen coat stood behind him. The tall guard lifted the toddler into his arms and smoothed the boy’s tousled blond hair. A smile lifted the corners of his dark mustache when the boy sniffled and snuggled against his shoulder.
Then he turned the smile on Emily, and she felt as if a giant vacuum had sucked all the air out of the room. She stared open-mouthed until Miss Strickland prodded her between her shoulder blades. Emily sat bolt upright and felt her face flame. “How may I help you?”
Before the guard could respond, Miss Strickland leaned toward Emily and looked her straight in the eye. “I expect a high degree of professionalism from you, Miss Ralston. Your attitude reflects on the entire staff of the Children’s Building. Please keep that in mind.” Her heels clacked against the floor as she crossed the open court that occupied the center of the building and disappeared down one of the side corridors.
Emily drew her first easy breath since the larcenous boy had crossed her path. She knew perfectly well what she had to do, and she could do it much better without her supervisor looking over her shoulder. She nodded a greeting at a couple who entered with two small children in tow then turned back to the waiting guard.
“I’m sorry for the interruption. What can I do for you?”
The dark-haired guard hiked the child higher on his shoulder. “This little fellow seems to have lost his family.”
Emily took a closer look at the little boy, noting the tear streaks on his cheeks. He couldn’t be more than three years old. She felt her heart go out to him. Standing to put herself on a level with the child, she adopted a cheerful tone. “We have lots of things for you to do until we find your parents. Would you like to stay here while this nice man tries to find them?”
The youngster buried his face in the guard’s neck and shook his head. “I want Mama.”
Emily swallowed hard. She reached up to rub his back with a gentle touch. “What’s your name?”
The boy sniffled again then raised his head and looked at her. “Adam.”
“All right, Adam.” At least he was old enough to tell her that much. Emily turned toward the desk and pulled the ledger over to her. “I’ll write your name down here in this book, and then a friend of mine will come to take you to a room with lots of toys. You can play with them until your mama comes for you. Doesn’t that sound nice?”
Adam rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. Emily could see his lower lip quiver.
She dipped the pen in the inkwell and wrote “Adam” on the next blank line. She hesitated a moment with the pen poised in the air. “Do you know your last name?”
Adam shook his head.
“Do you know your mama’s real name?”
He gave the same response.
The guard drew nearer and said in a low voice, “Some people found him over by the north bandstand. When the performance was over, everybody walked away but this little guy.”
The father who had just entered with his family stepped forward. “Excuse me, but I couldn’t help but overhear. I thought I recognized the boy. My family stopped to hear the performance at the bandstand, too. We saw his mother leave. I thought at the time it was awfully peculiar for her to go away and let such a young child stay there on his own.”
The guard turned an intense gaze on the man. “You saw her leave?”
“That’s right. In a hurry, too. She was practically running.”
“Could you give me a description?” The guard set Adam down beside Emily, and the two men moved a few feet away.
Emily checked the couple’s children in, half her attention on the task at hand, the other half focused on the story the father told while the guard made notes in a little notebook he pulled from his pocket.
“She was a nice-looking woman,” the man said. “Blond hair, dark blue dress.”
“With a gored skirt and a lovely shirred bodice,” his wife put in. “Very up-to-date. Her hat was trimmed with matching silk ribbon and ostrich feathers.”
Her husband chuckled. “Trust a woman to notice all the details of fashion.”
Emily handed two claim checks to the children’s mother and rang the small brass bell on her desk to summon Lucy.
Lucy appeared a moment later and gave all three children a bright smile. “Are you ready to come with me?” She bent to take Adam’s hand, but Emily motioned her away.
“Just those two for now,” she said. “Come back in a few minutes, and I’ll explain.”
The couple took their leave of their children. “We’ll be back when your mother has worn me out seeing all the exhibits she’s interested in,” their father joked.
When the door closed behind them, the guard walked over and knelt beside Adam. “I’ll go out and look for your mother now. You can stay here with Miss. . .” He looked up at Emily.
“Ralston,” she supplied.
“Miss Ralston.” He gave her another one of those smiles that made her stomach do flip-flops. “She’ll make sure the people here take good care of you.”
The little boy’s chin wobbled, but he turned to Emily and placed his hand in hers. “Hello, Miss Rost—Ralt—”
Emily smiled down at him. “Why don’t you call me Miss Emily?”
Adam nodded, his expression solemn. “Miss Em’ly,” he re-peated. His quick acceptance sent a rush of maternal feelings through her.
“Why don’t we take off your coat?” she suggested. “It’s lovely weather today, and I think you’ll feel much better without it. I’ll make sure we keep it safe so you don’t lose it, all right?”
Adam hesitated then allowed her to pull the heavy coat off. Emily bit her lip at the sight of the sailor suit he wore, with its middy blouse and knee pants. This child was just too precious for words!
While she tried to make Adam more comfortable, the guard left to go search for the child’s parents. A moment later, Lucy hurried back into the reception area. “What was it you couldn’t tell me before?”
“You’ll have to wait a little longer,” Emily told her. “Adam, this is Miss Lucy. She’ll take you to those toys I told you about.”
The little boy studied Lucy then reached out to take the hand she extended and toddled off beside her.
Free of responsibility for the moment, Emily propped her elbow on the desk and rested her cheek on her palm. She stared at the front door, lost in thought.
“He is a handsome fellow, isn’t he?” Lucy’s voice came from right behind her.
Startled out of her reverie, Emily jerked upright and banged her elbow on the edge of the desk. She yelped and glared at Lucy.
“Sorry.” Lucy’s unrepentant grin belied the sincerity of her apology. “I didn’t mean to make you jump. . .that much, at least.” Her grin faded. “And I truly am sorry about what happened with Miss Strickland. I tried to cover for you when I saw you were late, but she came in and caught me at it.” She wrinkled her nose. “I should have known it wouldn’t work.”
Emily sighed. “It’s all right. It was my fault for not being back on time. I knew Miss Strickland wouldn’t be happy about it, but she positively glared at me!” She rubbed her sore elbow and winced. “I hope she doesn’t fire me. I don’t want to lose the first job I ever had.”
“First paying job, you mean. You’ve been a hard worker ever since I’ve known you. And don’t worry about Miss Strickland. Did you know she has already gone through six receptionists in the four months the fair has been going on? I got that from Ruthie Lawson in the Day Nursery.” She looked over her shoulder and lowered her voice. “And they weren’t all fired by Miss Strickland, either. Some of them got so fed up with her demanding ways that they up and left. People just don’t do that on a whim, as hard as jobs are to find these days.”
“But that’s my point. People are hungry for jobs right now. She knows she doesn’t have to keep me here.”
Lucy snorted. “Listen to me. While you’re sitting here checking children in and out of the building all day, I have a chance to talk to the other employees. You are the best receptionist they’ve had yet. Everyone says so.”
Emily hoped her friend was right. The thought of losing her job was always an underlying fear. With the silver crash, masses of people were unemployed, making it harder than ever to find work. But even if jobs were as plentiful as the sand on the shores of Lake Michigan, she would hate to leave the Children’s Building. Providing a safe, nurturing place for children to play and learn while their parents saw the fair was a task she could embrace with her whole being, and taking part in such a worthwhile endeavor filled her with immense satisfaction.
She had to admit that Lucy was usually right in her assessment of any gossip she managed to overhear. Maybe she could relax. . . just a little, anyway.
Something pulled on her sleeve, and she realized Lucy was shaking her arm.
Emily blinked. “Did you say something?”
“Back in dreamland again?” Her friend sighed then took on the air of a patient teacher. “I said you never answered my question about the guard. Don’t you think he’s handsome?”
Emily reached for a stack of papers. “I suppose so. I didn’t really notice.”
Lucy snorted again. “Of course you didn’t.” She moved toward the back of the building. “Call me when you need me.”
The front door swung open again, and Emily whirled around, wondering if the guard had accomplished his mission so quickly. Her heart sank when she saw the slender man who stood before her dressed in a double-breasted serge jacket and flannel trousers.
“And how is my favorite receptionist today?”
Emily pressed her lips together and didn’t answer. She watched as Raymond Willard Simmons III crossed the floor with a swagger that reminded her of a strutting peacock.
What would it take to make him quit stopping by? Emily dreaded his unannounced visits almost as much as she dreaded arousing Miss Strickland’s ire. If only she could tell him to leave her alone! But Raymond’s father was one of the fair administrators, and upsetting Mr. Simmons would upset Miss Strickland. That was something Emily did not intend to do by choice.
She tried to arrange her features in a pleasant expression while Raymond pulled a paper bag from behind his back like a magician producing a dove from his hat.
“Something to satisfy your sweet tooth.” He set the bag on Emily’s desk with a flourish. When she made no move toward the gift, he opened the bag and withdrew a caramel, holding it out for her inspection. “From one of the finest candy makers in Chicago. I hope that when you enjoy them, you’ll think of me.”
Emily kept her smile in place, though what she would really enjoy doing was telling him never to darken the door of the Children’s Building again. “Thank you, Mr. Simmons.”
His broad smile drooped. “I thought we agreed we knew each other well enough to use our Christian names. Aren’t you going to call me Ray? That’s what my family calls me. . . and my closest friends.” He said the last few words in an intimate whisper that was probably intended to make her heart melt. She ground her teeth instead.
“It really wouldn’t be proper.” Emily put all the primness she could muster into the statement.
Raymond moved closer and rested his elbows on the desk, putting his face on a level with hers. “Perhaps that’s true here at the fairgrounds, where my father and I are seen as leaders. But away from the workplace, I see no reason to maintain such formality.” He moved his hand toward hers. Emily immediately began straightening the papers on her desk.
Raymond didn’t appear to notice the slight. “What about going to dinner with me tonight? It’s time you got away from the fairgrounds and that dreary boardinghouse and saw something of Chicago. We could eat at the Palmer House—”
“Without a chaperone? That would hardly sit well with your family, would it? What would they think if word got back to them that you had been seen in public with a young lady they’ve never met?”
Raymond’s face fell, and Emily knew she had scored a hit. His position as a member of one of Chicago’s leading families meant everything to him, and he would do nothing to bring about his parents’ disapproval or to risk their social standing.
Three couples entered and formed a line behind Raymond. Emily lifted her chin and tried to look as businesslike as possible. “I really must get back to work, Mr. Simmons.”
Raymond straightened and gave her a sour look. He opened his mouth as if to say more but settled for a nod and exited, leaving Emily free to enter names and distribute claim checks.
Alone once again, Emily tapped a stack of papers against the desk to square their edges then set them neatly in the upper left-hand corner of her desk. Spotting the bag of caramels Raymond had left, she set it in her bottom desk drawer, out of sight. She didn’t want Miss Strickland to find things in less than perfect order.
While she continued to straighten her work area, her mind turned back to the little boy the guard had brought in. There was nothing unusual about one of the Columbian Guards bringing a lost child to the Children’s Building—it had happened several times already in the two weeks she’d worked there. But something about that little tyke tugged at her heartstrings.
If she could feel such a connection toward a child she had just met, his mother must be frantic. Emily paused in the act of scooping up an armload of file folders. A frown tightened her forehead. Why would anyone go off and leave a child that age alone? And to leave in such a hurry, practically running, the man who witnessed it had said.
She pulled open the file drawer and slid the folders into their places. A woman running through the crowded fairgrounds would be unusual enough to draw notice from any number of people.
Emily wrinkled her nose. She had probably drawn a fair amount of notice herself with her undignified dash across the plaza earlier.
MY REVIEW:
A Bride So Fair is a romance novel with so much more. Set against the historical backdrop of the Chicago World’s Fair, A Bride So Fair is a tale filled with murder, mystery, danger, suspense, romance, courage, and faith. After Stephen finds a lost little boy at the fair, he takes him to the Children’s Building where Emily becomes involved in caring for the child when his mother never claims him. The two are drawn into a web of danger and intrigue that draws them closer together as they endeavor to protect Adam – and themselves. I would recommend A Bride So Fair to anyone who loves a good mystery, historical fiction, romance or all of the above.
Sue Dent hails from Mississippi. She graduated from Mississippi College in 1983. Since graduating she’s sold computers, taught computer classes and has worked as a Technical Specialist IV for the Mississippi Department of Natural Resources.
