23. Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Three
As it turned out, the young woman with the mop was Pastor Mitchell’s daughter, Pauline. She led Jacquelyn across the courtyard to the unassuming white clapboard cottage behind the church. In the back of the house was Pastor Mitchell’s office. Jacquelyn set the thirty-seven cents next to the telephone on his desk and picked up the receiver. It took some explaining for the operator to understand the logistics of the long-distance call, but finally, after the operator spoke with the switchboard in Milwaukee, the connection was made.
Jacquelyn ran her finger over the cloth-covered cord, waiting anxiously. What she wouldn’t give to hear Mildred’s voice on the other end of the line! Darling Mildred, who would certainly sympathize with the suffering she’d endured that day. As soon as she walked in the door at home, she’d request a warm bath and a hot meal .
Still listening, she gripped the cord as if it were a lifeline, feeling Pauline’s eyes boring into her. She wished she would go away. When the operator came back, she said, “I’m sorry, Miss Sheridan, but no one is answering. Please try again later.”
“Wait! Wait!” she cried out, but the sound of the click coming through the receiver indicated it was too late.
“No one is home?” Pauline asked, her tone sympathetic.
“No,” Jacquelyn said. “So odd. Mildred never leaves. She’s very dependable.” She’d never given it much thought until that very moment. Mildred had always just been there for her. As constant as the rising sun. And now, it appeared, she was gone.
Fear gripped her heart and made her question why this would be. What if Eddie had crashed the automobile and now he and Jane were in the hospital? That would explain why neither David nor Mildred was home to answer the phone. Both of them would rush to the hospital if they knew Jacquelyn and Eddie were injured. David had always given her trouble, but his steadfastness, his reliability, was something she valued. Now, she felt as if her grip on the edge of a cliff had come loose and she was tumbling into oblivion.
Her whole world had unraveled.
“So what are you going to do?” Up close, with her wide eyes, Pauline looked much younger. Fourteen at the most.
Jacquelyn mulled it over. The Sheridan money had to count for something in this village. She was going to find someone to help her if it was the last thing she did. She scooped up the thirty-seven cents. “I can tell you one thing—I’m going to be home for Christmas, no matter what it takes.”