Joseph narrowed his eyes. Lord, please help me not to lose my temper. “Francine, what on earth are you doing here?” Her perfume clung to his nostrils like an annoying ant. He took a few steps away from her.
She batted her eyelashes. “I came to see you. Joseph, you have not come to call on me since you took me to the cotillion a month ago. I just wanted to see you.”
He’d never in his entire lifetime encountered such a bold and beautiful woman. Francine may have been beautiful, but her beauty was outward. He just couldn’t warm up to her. A few weeks before he’d escorted her to the cotillion, she’d spotted him feeding the beggars as she rode by in her carriage. He had not realized she’d noticed his actions until she’d boldly confronted him about it on their way to the ball.
“I can’t believe you’d feed those people, Joseph. Your mother told me you give to the Philadelphia charities. You don’t want those people in your bakery.”
At that time, he’d hauntingly realized Francine sounded just like Mother. He didn’t even want to ruin his day thinking about the abhorrent time he’d had at the cotillion.
“Joseph?” Her voice rose, just a bit, as she fingered his shirt. “Why aren’t you speaking to me?”
He eyed Ruth as she continued to pass out pamphlets. She appeared busy, her bonnet covering her dark curls. She glanced his way for a few moments before continuing her chore. Her pretty mouth appeared pinched. Perhaps she was upset about Francine’s unexpected arrival. Hopefully Francine would be on her way so they could return to their duties. “Francine, I’ve been busy.” He showed her the pamphlets in his hand. “I’m in the middle of my abolitionist duties.” He took a deep breath. “Listen, don’t you want to abolish slavery?”
She narrowed her eyes before boldly offering her parasol. “Hold this for me, please.” Another trait of hers that proved bothersome—she commanded him as if he were her personal worker. He swallowed and grasped the handle of her parasol. She then opened her fancy black reticule and removed a folded object. She opened her rose-decorated fan and waved it in front of her face in quick movements. She then accepted her umbrella. “It’s hot out here today.”
“Perhaps you should go back into your carriage.” He was determined to get back to his duties, and having Francine around was not helping with his mission.
She narrowed her eyes. “Does your mother know about your involvement with the abolitionists?” It was no surprise she refused to answer his question about slavery.
He certainly could not lie to Francine, yet Mother’s knowledge was none of Francine’s concern. He’d tell Mother when he was ready. “I don’t want to talk about her now. I’m busy.”
She pursed her red-painted lips and again fingered his collar. “Well, the charity ball is coming up…”
He resisted the urge to groan. The charity ball. Mother had been hinting about the event for the past week, openly wondering why he’d not yet asked to escort Francine. Well, one evening of Francine’s company was enough to last him a lifetime. No way was he going to ask to be her escort. He couldn’t be rude to her, so it would probably be best if she left before he said something he’d regret. He gestured toward her carriage. “I don’t want to make you late, Francine. It appears you were on your way to an engagement. I will speak with you another time.”
He then turned to the next passerby, his back turned toward Francine. He supposed he should help her up into the carriage, but she’d already fingered his shirt twice and openly flirted with him. He recoiled from the notion of giving her yet another opportunity to flirt. As he handed a pamphlet to the dark-suited gentleman, he caught Ruth’s open stare.
Over the next few days, the pretty woman Ruth had spotted on the street haunted her mind.
Francine. That’s what Joseph had called her. Since the day they’d handed out the pamphlets, Ruth had spotted Francine twice. She’d brazenly come into the bakery, bothering Joseph as he waited on customers. His mother enjoyed Francine’s impromptu visits. The two of them had spent a full half hour in his mother’s office. She had even asked Ruth to bring back a pot of hot tea and slices of her cinnamon, fruit bread with butter.
She’d overheard Francine’s praises for the bread through the closed door. His mother had laughed, stating they’d hired a new girl. She’d also made it seem as if Joseph’s business acumen had made their bakery even more successful.
She’d wanted to step into Mrs. Adams’s office and tell Francine that she had helped make their business more successful, and she was most likely the best bread baker in all of Philadelphia. She gritted her teeth as she overhead their chatter behind the closed door. Joseph’s ma still thought of her as nothing more than a hired hand—she didn’t seem to want to acknowledge the talents she’d contributed to the bakery.
Well, there was nothing she could do about that. Lord, help me with my anger. She was here to do a job, and she continued to be grateful for her employment. She didn’t need to think about Mrs. Adams’s chatter right now. She had some more bread to bake. As she kneaded dough, she thought about the dream she’d had the previous night.
In her dream, Thomas had been stumbling in the darkness, blind, unable to see her standing right in front of him. She’d screamed, tried to get his attention. Joseph had stood in the distance, studying her with his intense hazel eyes. Francine had screamed at Joseph, but he’d ignored Francine’s tirade. She’d awakened from the dream, stunned and confused. She’d been so upset she’d had to drink a cup of lavender tea to calm her nerves. She’d finally managed to fall back to sleep.
She ached to ask Joseph the nature of his relationship with Francine. He was cordial toward Francine. But it was hard to tell if he was smitten with the beautiful young woman. Thoughts about Francine and Joseph twirled through her mind like windblown seeds as she approached the rooming house after work. Miss Tilley occupied one of the kitchen chairs. She nibbled on a cookie while sipping a glass of water.
“What’s wrong, Ruth? You look like you’re about to cry.”
She’d been so emotional since she’d come to Philadelphia. She’d been finding it hard to keep her emotions hidden until she was alone. “Nothing.”
Miss Tilley patted the empty chair beside her. “Come on and sit down. We have a few minutes to visit before we start your lesson.”
She’d been having a lesson every night since the schoolmarm had recovered from her stomach illness. Ruth had started looking at the newspaper. No, she could not read it, but she knew the first letters to some of the words. Oftentimes, she caught herself listening to customers while they talked. When she heard words, she found herself trying to figure out the first letter of the word. She’d been surprised when Miss Tilley told her that cinnamon started with a c not an s, as Ruth had assumed. She still had a lot to learn, and she was grateful the Lord had placed Miss Tilley in her path to teach her how to read.
She pulled out a chair and selected a cookie. Gingersnap, one of her favorites. She consumed the entire spicy cookie and enjoyed a sip of water. She’d not spoken of her weird feelings about Joseph to anyone. But she needed someone to talk to, and Miss Tilley seemed like she wanted to help. She took another sip of water before gathering her thoughts. “I’s…I—” She paused. Miss Tilley had been teaching her the proper way to speak. She’d been trying hard to say I instead of I’s. Sometimes she forgot, but she figured with enough patience and tutoring from Miss Tilley, she’d soon read and speak properly. Maybe Mrs. Adams would then feel comfortable enough for her to wait on the customers.
“I…am confused.”
“Confused? About what?”
She told Miss Tilley about her dream the previous night and about how her heart thudded whenever Joseph was around. She spoke of Francine and about how her interaction with Joseph made her feel uncomfortable. “He is so handsome and strong. Plus, he cares about helping to end slavery.”
Miss Tilley smiled and took her hand. “Ruth, there’s nothing to be confused about. You’re obviously sweet on Joseph. There’s nothing wrong with that. He’s good-looking, charming, and nice as can be.” She cleared her throat. “Are you upset because he’s not smitten with you?”
“Miss Tilley, my problem is, I just can’t get him off my mind. But I needs to. I’m not supposed to be with anybody.”
Miss Tilley frowned and pushed her tin cup aside. “What do you mean?”
“God called me to help people escape from slavery. I’s…I feel the Lord led me here to help people escape through the Underground Railroad.”
“Dear, I don’t understand why that’s a problem. You are helping with the abolitionist movement. So is Joseph. I’d imagine that would make him a perfect beau for you; that is, if he shares your feelings.”
She shook her head. Miss Tilley just didn’t understand. Not at all. “I’m not supposed to be with anybody. I’m spending the rest of my life alone, without a husband or children.” She squeezed the older woman’s hand. “I’m supposed to help men, women, children escape from slavery. I’m going to spend my life helping other people. Alone. That’s what the Lord wants me to do.”
“Oh, Ruth.” Miss Tilley’s kind, thoughtful voice filled the kitchen. Her eyes shone with curiosity, and something else that Ruth couldn’t quite put her finger on. “Why do you honestly feel the Lord has called you to be alone your entire life?”
“Well, I’s…I was going to jump the broom back in Maryland to Thomas.”
“Thomas?”
“My beau in Maryland.”
“What happened?”
Her eyes teared and she wiped the wetness away, unable to hide her pain. “He died, Miss Tilley. He lived on a nearby plantation. He got sick. His master didn’t call the doctor soon enough. If he had not been a slave, I think his master would have called the doctor and gotten him the help he needed. Slavery killed the only man I ever wanted to marry. He been dead for eighteen months now. I still think about him every day.”
“Ruth, I want you to do something for me.”
“What?”
“Pray about it. You’re still not over Thomas, but that doesn’t mean you should remain unmarried for your entire life. Our lives are full of seasons, and maybe you are called to be single, but maybe the Lord wants you to be single for now. After you’re over Thomas, maybe the Lord will see fit to open your heart to a man’s love.”
“I just don’t know, Miss Tilley.”
“Honey, listen to me. Listen to your heart. You like spending time with Joseph. Maybe being with him is part of the process of healing, learning to cope with your pain from losing Thomas.”
Ruth continued to think about Miss Tilley’s advice while she opened her primer to start her next lesson.