Chapter 19 #3
Those two words sent a frisson of fear racing down her spine and raised the hair on the back of her neck.
Her heart leapt into her throat as she stiffened.
Gasping, she took an automatic step back, hands shaking as she stared at the piece of paper as if it were a snake preparing to bite.
She looked wildly around, searching, her heart pounding and ears ringing.
A wave of dizziness assailed her but she managed to sink into one of the chairs without collapsing.
Hands trembling, she picked up the note and read it again and then glanced wildly over her shoulder, looking around.
She saw nothing suspicious. She quickly stood and stepped to the door, slamming it firmly shut behind her before her knees wobbled and she sank slowly to the floor, hot and cold at the same time, her lungs wheezing with irregular breaths.
“No Lord, no …” she nearly cried. “No …” She crossed her arms over her chest and bowed her head, squeezing her eyes tightly shut as she murmured.
“Because You have made the Lord, who is my refuge, even the Most High, your habitation, no evil shall befall you … nor shall any plague come near your dwelling, for He shall give His angels charge over you …”
She repeated the Psalm over and over again until she was able to catch her breath.
She finally looked up, her gaze passing over the old two-burner stove, the small hutch containing cooking supplies, and the worn but serviceable upholstered and carved floral motif walnut settee that Dalia and her husband had carted west with them after the war.
A small bookcase held some old books and bric-à-brac that came from who knew where; a silver elephant, a porcelain figure carved from ivory, and a small ceramic kitten, its pink paint long since faded.
Beyond stood a doorway, the cloth curtain shoved to once side, behind which her and Eliza’s beds stood, a small dresser with an old porcelain lamp atop it. Tears blurred her vision.
“Do something, Chloe,” she muttered to herself, over and over again. “Get up off the floor and do something!”
She took a deep breath and slowly gained her feet, but even so leaned a hand against the doorframe, her heart still racing in fear, making it hard for her to breathe. What can I do? Has Everett found me? Has he been watching me?
Slowly, she opened her hand where she’d crumbled the note and read it again.
Found You
No, it definitely wasn’t Eliza’s writing.
How long had it been there? The paper was well-worn, the pencil lead thick, the writing printed, not written in a lady’s hand, or at least she didn’t think so, so that ruled out Lillian.
Dalia wouldn’t write such a thing either.
The writing didn’t look like Eliza’s. So who—
A knock on the door startled her, so much so that she barely stifled a cry of alarm.
She rose from the floor, crumpled the note and slid it into the pocket of her skirt, swept a hand through her hair, took a deep breath, and opened the door.
Her heart leapt with relief and sank with despair at the same time.
“Nathaniel …” She glanced past his shoulder. “I thought you were at work.”
“I was,” he said, removing his hat. He hesitated. “Look, Chloe, I know something’s bothering you. You’ve been awful quiet lately. My mother’s noticed as well. She asked me to come and see if you are all right.”
She felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment.
Was she that transparent? She tried to smooth her features.
“I … I’m fine, Nathaniel, thank you.” She tried to come up with an excuse.
“It’s just that, well, I’m just trying to cope with everything that’s happened in the past couple of weeks and …
well, there are times when I don’t know what I’m doing. ”
He frowned slightly and then offered a shrug. “You mean with mothering?”
That was as good of an excuse as any. She nodded.
“We’ll heck, Chloe, no one does until they become a parent. You just do the best you can.” He paused. “Do you think you’re doing something wrong with Eliza?” He glanced over his shoulder and around the yard. “Where is she anyway?”
“She’s in the house with your mother. She went to the orphanage with Lillian this morning.” She frowned. “She seems to want to go over there every time Lillian does.”
“Do you not want her to go?”
She looked up at him. “No, it’s not that.” She tried to force thoughts of the piece of paper in her pocket. “I just … I’m not sure if she prefers it over there rather than here with me.”
He stared at her for several moments. “Why would you think that?”
“I … I’m not sure if I’m being a good mother,” she admitted.
That much was the truth at least. Up until she found Eliza at the orphanage, she’d been a terrible mother.
Maybe she didn’t deserve to be one anymore.
How could she explain such feelings to a man like Nathaniel, one who always seemed so confident with his job, with his family, even with Eliza?
Meanwhile, she felt like she was floundering.
“Chloe,” he said softly. “Be patient with yourself. Be patient with Eliza. This is new to both of you.”
That may be, she admitted to herself, yet the secret she held so close felt heavier and heavier by the day. When would she collapse beneath its weight, and what would happen when she did?