Thirteen

A single tear slipped down Torey’s cheek. Then another and another until her vision blurred, and she was forced to glance up from the letter she was attempting to compose. She knew she could never face Mrs. Crawford without confessing the entire situation and taking a chance Simon might be killed, so she had opted to write a letter instead of risking a face-to-face good-bye.

Amos’s contacts were extensive. Even if he were sitting in jail, he might be able to get to Simon. And as much as she’d like to see her stepfather pay for his heinous crime, Simon’s life meant too much for her to take the chance.

She signed the letter. While she waited for the ink to dry, she walked to the wardrobe. Fingering the cloth of the gowns, she thought back to how excited she’d been to buy the two serviceable gowns and one more church dress to accompany the one she’d bought the day Simon had introduced her to corned beef and cabbage. With a sigh, she closed the wardrobe again without bothering to remove anything. These gowns wouldn’t be suitable in her new life. Mr. Shepherd would buy her silks and satins. He’d never allow her to wear coarser materials or anything less than the best. After all, a man’s reputation must be preserved.

The dresses could easily be made over for Melissa. The girl would be thrilled to have them. Torey smiled a little at the thought and sat to write another note, requesting that Mrs. Crawford present the gifts to the girl.

A knock at the door interrupted her, and she jumped. No one must know of her plans. She gathered a deep breath and tried to sound as normal as possible. “Who is it?”

“Mike. We’re about to decorate the Christmas tree.”

The last thing Torey wanted to do was try to pretend to be festive, but she knew she’d have some explaining to do if she didn’t join the rest of the household for the occasion. Sundown was still a couple of hours away. A sigh lifted and lowered her chest. She had no choice.

“Please tell Mrs. Crawford I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Okay. Uh, we can’t start until you come.”

A smile tipped her lips. According to the children, they’d never had much of a Christmas tree before. All day, the atmosphere had buzzed with their excitement. Torey could imagine how excruciating the wait must be. Still, there were other matters to attend to. “I’ll hurry. I promise.”

She heard the sound of his boots shuffling along the hallway and breathed a sigh of relief that he’d taken the hint and wasn’t going to wait for her.

Slipping the note she written for Simon into her apron pocket, Torey blinked away quick tears. This home represented the first real happiness she’d known since her mother’s death. The first real security.

As slowly as she could, she walked down the hallway to the steps, savoring every inch of the three-foot-wide space, memorizing every crack in the wood. As she descended the stairs, she drank in the scents of lavender and spice. No house had ever smelled as lovely as this one. Wonderful aromas always wafted from the kitchen. Mrs. Crawford used a touch of lavender-scented perfume, and the smell lingered throughout the house.

High-pitched voices drifted from the front room where Nat and Simon had set up the Christmas tree. Torey took a deep breath and detoured to the right, toward the study where she planned to slip the letter onto Simon’s desk. She headed down the main hall, then stopped short of rounding the corner. She heard Simon’s voice speaking over the newly installed telephone.

“Yes, Captain. That’s what I’m telling you. I have discovered the whereabouts of my father’s killer.”

Stifling a gasp, Torey shrank back against the wall. She knew she shouldn’t eavesdrop, but nothing could have driven her from that spot.

“His accomplice has been living under my roof for months, unbeknownst to me.” The bitterness in his voice nearly took Torey’s breath away. He despised her. “Yes. I heard them discussing the matter. The killer seemed to think himself very clever. He’ll be meeting the girl at sundown, and they’ll be leaving together. I do not know where they are going, so I would advise you to take advantage of the opportunity to apprehend them. No. I can’t identify the man. I didn’t see him. I only overheard them.”

Torey’s heart crashed. Simon had heard enough of their conversation to become aware that Amos had killed his father but not enough to realize she’d only witnessed the murder. He believed her to be an accomplice. She fingered the envelope in her pocket. What was the use of trying to explain things now? He’d never believe her.

“I’m not sure of the girl’s motives. She’s had access to all of Father’s documents. I’m sure a search of her person will reveal something.”

The disdain in his tone was unbearable. Slowly, Torey backed away and fled down the hall. She was just about to ascend the steps when she heard Mrs. Crawford’s voice from the doorway of the living room.

“Torey? The children are waiting for you. We’re about to decorate the tree.”

Desperately attempting to compose herself, Torey molded her lips into a smile and turned to face the woman. “Yes, Ma’am.” She searched for an excuse, any excuse to relieve herself of the obligation. But one look at the determination on Mrs. Crawford’s face convinced her of the futility of immediate escape.

With clenched fists, she entered the living room, praying for the strength to keep the tears at bay for just a little longer.

❧

Simon placed the telephone receiver on the box and walked into Father’s study, a weary sigh escaping him. Sorrow upon sorrow. First Father’s death, and now the woman he loved turned out to be involved in the murder.

He sat back in the leather chair, stroking his moustache as he contemplated how he could have been played for such a fool.

“Simon?”

He glanced up at the sound of his mother’s voice in the doorway.

“What is it, Mother?”

“You’re missing all the fun. We thought you might enjoy putting on the star.”

“That’s Father’s job,” he said dully, not sure why he even made such a ridiculous statement.

Mother walked to the desk and stared at him from the other side. “I told the children that it used to be his job, and they insisted the honor must now fall to you.”

“I’m sorry, Mother. I’m not in the mood.”

In a flash, she slapped the desk hard with the palm of her hand. “I want to know what is going on between you and Torey. Did you have a lovers’ spat?”

“Lovers’? Don’t be absurd. There’s nothing between myself and the maid.”

A scowl darkened her face. “Oh, so she’s the maid now, is she?”

“She always has been.” Simon tried hard to remain nonchalant. Mother would have to be informed, but for now, he wanted to give her the pleasure of her holiday decorating.

“Perhaps, but it’s obvious you’ve fallen in love with her. I know something’s happened between you two, because she is in the living room right now pretending to have a good time, when all the while, she’s been fighting back tears for the better part of an hour.”

Simon jerked his chin and captured Mother’s gaze. “What do you mean?”

“As if you didn’t know.”

Releasing a sigh, Simon decided to go ahead and tell her. She was going to find out in an hour anyway. “Mother, you need to know something. . .” This was going to break her heart. “Sit down, please.”

Her gaze flickered over his face and she nodded. When she was seated, Simon leaned forward and reached for her hands. With a frown, she slipped her plump hands in his. “What is it, Son?”

“There’s no easy way to tell you this, but Torey will be leaving us tonight.”

Mother jerked her hands from his. “What? What did you do to her?”

“I didn’t do anything, and I’ll explain as soon as you calm down.”

She folded her hands in her lap and nodded. “Explain, then.”

Simon recounted the overheard conversation, carefully watching Mother’s expression. Her lips pressed into a grim line, and her eyes flashed anger.

“And so she will be leaving in a few moments,” Simon concluded.

She shot to her feet. “No, my boy, she will not.”

“Mother, I know you love the girl, but don’t you see? She’s not who she claimed to be. She’s involved with Father’s death and has come to further our grief by finishing whatever it was they left undone.”

“Oh, Simon. I’ve known of Torey’s involvement from the night the Lord sent her to us.”

“What?” Disbelief shot through him. “You knew she helped kill Father and you just stood by and watched while I fell in love?” A sense of betrayal almost as strong as the one he felt over Torey’s actions slithered through him. He felt ill.

“Now, it’s your turn to calm down. I vow we are cut from the same cloth. As to Torey’s supposed involvement, the only thing that girl is guilty of is being in the wrong place at the wrong time and witnessing a murder. She told me that much. And she told me that she ran away for fear her stepfather would implicate her in the crime although she was innocent.”

“She knew, yet she never told me?”

“She didn’t know who the man was. There are no photographs or paintings of your father on the walls. Only in my locket.”

“All right, let’s assume she didn’t know. You did. Why didn’t you tell me any of this sooner? This man could have been locked away months ago.”

“Because, Son, some things are more important than revenge.”

“What could be more important than Father’s killer brought to justice?”

“The condition of your heart,” she said quietly.

A scowl twisted Simon’s face. “What has one to do with another?”

“If I had gone to the police when Torey arrived, you would have had your revenge. And you never would have forgiven the man who killed your father.”

“I can’t forgive him. It’s too much for anyone to ask.”

“And yet our Lord forgave His murderers even while He hung in agony on the cross. Son, I am convinced of one thing. My husband forgave his killer before he took his last breath. How can we do less?”

Tears clogged Simon’s throat at the memory of his father. The pleading in his eyes as the life slipped from him. “Giiieee. . .” Father wanted him to get the man who killed him. He’d said so. Hadn’t he?

Giiieee. . .

The memory hit Simon in the gut. “Father wasn’t saying ‘get him,’ was he?”

His mother shook her head. “He was a righteous man. A good man. He never would have asked his son to exact revenge on his behalf. It wasn’t in his character.”

Giiieee. . .

Simon drew in a sharp breath as he realized what Father had been trying to say. Forgive. Father had been asking him to forgive the man who had murdered him. Tears formed in Simon’s eyes. He’d always wanted to be like his father. Had always striven to be kind to his fellow man, generous to those less fortunate, loving to his mother. All those things he’d witnessed every day of his life. But Simon realized something as the tears formed a stream running down his face. His father had striven to be like one man: Jesus. That’s what had made him so special.

“You’re right, Mother.” Simon took his handkerchief from his pocket. “Father wouldn’t have asked for revenge.”

Mother’s breath released in a slow stream, as though she’d been holding it for a long, long time. “He died as he lived—pure in heart.”

Simon gave a defeated shrug. “So where does that leave us now? I’ve found the killer, and the police are probably waiting right now to arrest him.”

“Police?” Mother’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, the police? Simon, what did you do?”

“I’m sorry, Mother. I called the station house an hour or so ago.”

“Oh, Simon,” she groaned. “I wish you had spoken with me first. Now Torey might be arrested as well. Especially if that despicable stepfather of hers makes good on his threat to implicate her. We need to warn her before she goes to meet him.”

Simon didn’t move. He realized the ramifications of warning Torey. If she didn’t meet her stepfather, he wouldn’t show himself, and would most certainly get away. He loved her, but was his love stronger than his desire to see justice for his father?

In an instant, he made his decision.