Gold Mountain by Karen J. Hasley

Author:Karen J. Hasley [Hasley, Karen J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Outskirts Press, Inc.
Published: 2012-01-10T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

When I stepped into the breakfast room the next morning, I said involuntarily, “Ruthie! You look tired. Why don’t you skip church this morning? God will understand.”

“Understand what exactly? That I stayed out too late carousing and so cannot keep the Sabbath Day?” Her tone made my comment sound like a recommendation to kill the family cat.

“First, from someone who has spent a little time around sailors, let me assure you that dancing with your husband and drinking punch is not carousing. And you have to think about the baby.”

My sister’s face, even with smudged circles under the eyes and pale cheeks, got a set, stubborn look that told me I should concede defeat because she had made up her mind and would not change it, whatever sensible idea I put forward.

“Well, you can nap this afternoon, I suppose, while I go collect Suey Wah from 920.”

Ruth accepted my compromise and asked hesitantly, “Dinah, when you got home last night, did everything seem all right to you here at the house?”

Because I had been expecting her to bring up my behavior of last night or my feelings about Jake Pandora, I heard Ruth’s question with something close to relief because that was one thing I was prepared and able to discuss.

“Well, the front door was open.”

“What?!”

“Yes, I thought it was strange, too, and I was glad Mr. Pandora was along because he went in first and checked out the house from top to bottom. Of course, the house was empty, and it didn’t seem that anything was missing. Why?”

Ruth shrugged lightly. “Just a feeling I had, that’s all. The sense that something was different. Do you think it was a burglar?”

“No. Nothing was stolen, was it? Maybe the front door just didn’t latch properly. Or maybe”—I paused dramatically—“we have a ghost!” Ruth’s skeptical response was what I hoped for and my ploy to steer the conversation away from last night seemed to work. Mention Jake Pandora casually, like he was no one special—which of course he wasn’t, was he? Was he?—acknowledge the open door, and credit anything amiss that I might have neglected to return to normal to the presence of something unseen and slightly ridiculous. Burglars and ghosts. Perfect scapegoats.

We walked to the Old Presbyterian church, despite Martin’s forceful intention to get a carriage for us. “You’re tired, Ruth, and we can afford to hire a carriage. We could afford to own one, for that matter. It will take me just a minute to find one to hire. They’re always waiting down at the corner. She shouldn’t walk, don’t you agree, Dinah?”

“Yes, Martin, I do. I agree completely and absolutely. However, I can tell from having been exposed to that particular look on my sister’s face for many more years than you that you are wasting your breath about the carriage.” To Ruth, I added, “I hope the fact that you’re distressing the two people closest to you doesn’t get in the way of your worship. I never

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