Through the Shadows. Karen Barnett

be wasting our time with him. I, for one, have an engagement this evening.”

      Her mother rose to her feet. “Mr. McKinley is our guest. I will not have him flown at in such a manner.”

      The young man jumped up, a glint appearing in his eyes. “I assure you, Miss King, my uncle didn’t send me to woo anyone.” He paused. “I believe I can help.”

      “I think we should hear him out.” Mother pressed a hand to her heart.

      Elizabeth locked her gaze on the attorney. “Are you afraid to conduct business with my brother, or do you think it’s too complex for a physician to understand, too?”

      He placed both palms on the table and leaned forward, matching her stare. “Are you saying your mother is not competent to manage her affairs without a man present?”

      A flush climbed Elizabeth’s neck, settling under her lace collar.

      He turned toward her mother. “I can present my recommendations here, or we can wait until after the meal. If you’d prefer I make an appointment to speak to your son, I’d be more than happy to do so. I also have another engagement this evening, so it would be preferable to expedite my proposals without further interruptions.”

      Her mother nodded. “Let’s retire to the parlor. Elizabeth, you may join us or not, but you will remain silent. I will not have our guest harangued further.”

      As they departed, Elizabeth sank back into her seat. She lifted the water glass, but her trembling hand splashed the icy water down the front of her dress, chilling her to the skin. She dabbed a napkin against the damp silk, the image of the young man’s wide brown eyes tugging at her heart. He hadn’t deserved such venom. Why must she make a mess of everything?

      Her forthright manner had cost her much over the years. Add such a weakness to a stained past, and she could forget ever walking down the aisle. Elizabeth closed her eyes. Not that marriage was ever her goal . . . at least, not exactly.

      Lord, help me.

      Chapter 2

      2

      Elizabeth hurried up City Hall’s marble steps after her friend. The church bells tolled, echoing down the busy street. “We’re going to be late.”

      The cascading flowers on Lillian’s hat jounced as she climbed. “If you’d met me at six like I asked, we’d have had plenty of time. Tell me more about this attorney fellow. Was he handsome?”

      “He was insufferable. A pompous, overdressed stuffed shirt—like those Brookstone Academy boys who lived to quote Sophocles and Euripides.”

      Lillian smiled. “I nearly married one of those boys, remember?”

      Elizabeth reached for the ornate brass handle, pulling open the heavy door. “Temporary blindness. You eventually came to your senses.”

      Her friend cocked a pale eyebrow as she stepped through the doorway. “And hasn’t anyone turned your head? You haven’t had time for me in months. I’d assumed some special fellow consumed all your attentions.”

      A wave of heat washed over Elizabeth, and she lifted a hand to her cheek. If anyone—even Lillian—guessed her indiscretion, she’d never survive the gossip and disgrace. This secret was between her and God, assuming she could gather the courage to speak to Him about it. Elizabeth followed her friend through the entrance, careful to keep her skirt out of the way. “I’ve decided men aren’t worth the trouble. Who’s speaking tonight?”

      A few well-dressed women stood in the marble-lined vestibule, lingering outside the door of the meeting room. The sound of children singing floated out into the hall. Elizabeth stopped in her tracks.

      “About that . . .” Lillian grasped Elizabeth’s hand and pulled her toward the assembly hall. “The orator is Miss Donaldina Cameron from San Francisco’s Presbyterian Mission Home. I heard her speak in Oakland last June.”

      “Mission? I thought this was a Stanton Club meeting.” Elizabeth’s skin crawled. “You didn’t tell me this was a church event.”

      “Miss Cameron works with girls rescued from slavery in Chinatown. Their stories will break your heart. Come on.” Lillian gave her a knowing glance. “You can’t even walk by a street urchin without sharing your coins.”

      Elizabeth’s feet dragged across the tile floor. She couldn’t face a missionary. Not now. But the music—and Lillian’s expectations—pulled her forward. Elizabeth smoothed a hand across her skirt, trying to ignore the perspiration dampening her palms. No one knows.

      Few openings remained in the packed room. Lillian guided her down the side aisle to a couple of empty spots near the front.

      Three Chinese girls stood on the platform, their smooth hair shining under the electric lights. Their gentle voices rose and fell to the tune of “Safe in the Arms of Jesus.” Elizabeth couldn’t resist smiling at the sight of the smallest girl—perhaps only six or seven—her embroidered red tunic making her resemble a bright peony.

      Elizabeth sidled past knees and feet, taking care not to tromp on anyone’s toes, and tucked into her seat with a sigh. A woman’s massive Gibson Girl hairstyle blocked most of Elizabeth’s view. Ridiculous. If she tips her head, she’ll fall over. Her sister Ruby often styled her red curls in such magnificent updos, but Elizabeth preferred to maintain a sleek knot at the back of her head. It seemed silly to spend hours on one’s hair when there were so many other things to do.

      The girls sang two more hymns, their voices as pure as garden wind chimes. The littlest one stepped forward, a wide smile brightening her round face. After a nod from the woman at the back of the platform, the child folded her hands and began to sing. Elizabeth leaned forward, her fingers twitching as she contemplated an arrangement on the piano.

      I’m but a stranger here, Heaven is my home;

      Earth is a desert drear, Heaven is my home;

      Danger and sorrow stand, round me on every hand;

      Heaven is my fatherland, Heaven is my home.

      Elizabeth and Lillian joined in the applause as the girls returned to their seats. Elizabeth edged a few inches to the side to get a better view of the tall, thin woman taking the podium, her hair glinting like Mother’s best silver.

      “No truer words have been sung.” A hint of a Scottish brogue colored the woman’s words. “Yoke Soo and her twin sister came to our shores at the tender age of four, but within hours the children were on the auction block. Yoke Soo began her life in America as a Mui Tsai—servant child.”

      The poor little dear. Elizabeth studied the people in front of her. Two seats down, she couldn’t help but admire a muscular set of shoulders, clad in an elegant suit. The man’s light brown hair seemed familiar. When he turned to speak to the woman on his left, Elizabeth’s breath caught in her chest. Charles McKinley? She’d assumed the young attorney would be visiting with another client, not attending a public meeting. Would she never be free of the man? Elizabeth shrank down in her seat, no longer caring whether she could see the platform.

      The woman at the podium expounded on the girl’s heartbreaking story, but the words failed to penetrate Elizabeth’s dour mood. The lady ahead of her leaned past her neighbor to whisper to Mr. McKinley. His head turned, the profile unmistakable.

      Elizabeth pressed a handkerchief to her eyes. With any luck, she wouldn’t be recognized.

      Lillian patted her sleeve. “I knew you’d be moved.”

      Elizabeth ducked as the attorney glanced back. Perhaps I should leave. She peered down the long row, but a gauntlet of legs and feet prepared to make trouble for anyone who passed. Elizabeth leaned back against the chair. Trapped.

      After a few minutes, she relaxed, turning her focus to the missionary’s stories. The images of beatings, neglect, and hard work pressed on Elizabeth’s lungs. Was she truly speaking of the little child who’d just sung like an