Through the Shadows. Karen Barnett

Uncle Silas’s reports had left unanswered questions in Charles’s mind as well. “I understand.” He reached out and touched her arm, a second wave of protectiveness sweeping over him, perhaps a result of Josephine’s memory. “I live not far from the Mission. If you should need anything—anything at all—please don’t hesitate to contact me.”

      The expression in her blue eyes softened. “I appreciate your concern. But I can watch over myself. And if anything happens, my brother and sister will be nearby.” She moved toward the door.

      “Of course.” He pressed the derby onto his head and touched the brim, a hollowness opening in his chest. “Sometimes even brothers and sisters aren’t enough to keep the world at bay.”

      She cast a steadfast glance across her shoulder. “Then it’s a good thing I can take care of myself.”

      ***

      Elizabeth hurried down the sidewalk, regretting the falsehood she’d told Charles McKinley. Something about the man triggered unwelcome flutters in her chest. Gooseflesh spread down her arms as she considered his strong shoulders and easy smile. She’d not even shaken off the sensation of Tobias’s touch and now a handsome attorney turned her head? What would become of her? Lord, help me.

      Let him believe her decision was triggered by her family’s economic situation. She couldn’t bear for him—or anyone else—to know the truth.

      She hustled down the sidewalk, determined to be out of sight before the lawyer noticed no cab awaited her. Elizabeth ducked into a shadowed alley, easing between wooden crates and cans of refuse lining the back doors of businesses. The sun had long disappeared from the evening sky. Pulling the cloak tight about her shoulders, Elizabeth walked as fast as her stiff shoes allowed.

      A man stepped out of one of the narrow doorways, light spilling out around his bulky form. “Miss? You lost?”

      She jerked back a step. “No. I—I’m just taking a shortcut. I turned down the wrong street.” Her throat constricted. Her mother would be furious to discover her here. Only disreputable women skulked around in dark alleys at night. My reputation is all I have left, and even that’s hanging by a shoestring. Her gaze flitted down the path to the street beyond. Elizabeth gestured with a shaking hand. “My father is waiting out there.” Another lie. God must have already given up on her.

      The man stepped out of the glare and grinned, displaying a row of crooked teeth. He slapped a hand against the metal can. “You got nothing to worry about from me, Miss. I’m just taking out the trash. You hurry on, though.”

      Elizabeth bobbed her head, her hat sliding to one side. “Yes, thank you. If you’ll excuse me . . .” She picked up the edge of her skirt and dashed through to the main street. She slowed her pace, quelling the commotion in her heart as she turned toward home.

      The attorney’s words flooded back into her thoughts. “I hope you haven’t allowed your feelings to sweep you into a situation you may regret.” She folded her arms, gripping her elbows as she walked. Her emotions had led her down every single path she’d ever walked. Why change now?

      Chapter 4

      4

      Elizabeth fiddled through the stack of silk handkerchiefs. How many would she need? The trunk lid yawned open like a hungry alligator, but she’d yet to add a single garment from the pile strewn across her bed. Last time she’d traveled to San Francisco, she’d packed her nicest things in preparation to attend Robert’s wedding. It didn’t seem likely she’d need frilly evening gowns or lace-covered day dresses for a teaching position. She dropped the handkerchiefs back in the drawer with a sigh, sending up a swirl of fragrance from her lavender sachet. Elizabeth gathered her simplest skirts. All of the instructors at the ladies’ college wore muted browns and grays. Unfortunately, other than her russet walking skirt, everything she owned seemed to be in spring colors.

      I might not be suited to teaching. Her mind wandered back to the three girls she’d seen at the oratory. She’d been so busy focusing on Miss Cameron, she hadn’t even thought to speak to them. Within a few days, she’d be standing before an entire classroom of Chinese students. What if they didn’t like her? Elizabeth held up her pink skirt with its matching floral jacket. She could almost picture the girls laughing silently behind their hands.

      She sank onto the bed, the thought weighing upon her shoulders. When she’d picked out the pretty rose jacket, she’d imagined herself playing piano on the big stage of the Orpheum Theater. Her dreams had blossomed into thoughts of touring Europe. She’d spend languid afternoons buying hats and gowns in Parisian boutiques and evenings performing at the finest concert halls.

      Teaching sewing to Chinese slave girls? It had never crossed her mind until last night. Was it a call from God, or an impulsive plan of escape?

      Her concert dreams had been scattered like so many dandelion seeds to the wind. Elizabeth clenched her fists, her nails pressing against the tender skin of her palms. She opened her hand and studied the long fingers—Tobias called them a divine gift. Her stomach roiled. The very idea of touching a piano brought a sour taste to her mouth.

      She needed a new dream.

      Elizabeth jumped to her feet and folded the pink skirt together with a more serviceable blue one. Likely as not the girls would appreciate a little color in their teacher’s wardrobe. She folded her lace blouse and flowered jacket, adding them to the pile. Striding to the wardrobe, Elizabeth retrieved several shirtwaists and petticoats. It didn’t make sense to agonize over every choice. If her wardrobe offended, she’d simply make something new when she arrived. Her first demonstration piece could be a dowdy schoolmarm dress.

      A gentle rapping on the door stilled her hands. An ache settled in the back of Elizabeth’s throat. If only she could avoid this conversation forever. “Come in, Mother.”

      The door swung open, but her mother remained frozen on the threshold, eyes dark. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this, Elizabeth. We’ve had our differences before, but you’ve never run off on me.” She clutched a folded quilt to her chest, like a child in search of comfort.

      “I’m not running away. The Mission needs teachers. Besides, there’s nothing for me here.”

      Mother crossed the room, her quick footsteps silent on the rag rug. “How can you say such nonsense? What will I do without your help at the charity auction? And the library luncheon?”

      Elizabeth folded a set of winter stockings. “You don’t need my help. I’m hopeless at such things.”

      Mother sat on the edge of the mattress and pulled the quilt into her lap. “I wish you’d consulted me before you committed yourself to such a ridiculous venture. I’ve never even heard of this mission. If you wanted to serve a worthy cause, there are plenty right here. Why must all my children hightail it off to San Francisco?”

      Elizabeth crouched down to peer into the shadowy recesses of the top drawer. “Ah, there they are.” She drew out a pair of white gloves wedged in the rear corner. “Not all of your children—only three of us.”

      “You shouldn’t leave me like this.”

      Elizabeth stopped midway between her bureau and the trunk. “Like what?”

      “Alone.” Mother’s shoulders rounded.

      She hadn’t seen Mother like this since Robert—always her favorite—left for medical school, years ago. She never anticipated such a reaction for her own departure. “It’s not so far. And it’s only for a year.” She swung her arm toward the window. “Ethel and Jane both live within a mile. I’m not leaving you alone.”

      “Your sisters have their own lives.”

      The muscles in Elizabeth’s back coiled. “So do I.”

      “They have husbands, children. No time for their mother.”

      The comment stung. “Because I’m not married, my life is not my own?”

      “Don’t