Stone Creek 2 - A Wanted Man by Linda Lael Miller

Author:Linda Lael Miller
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2012-07-11T08:50:48+00:00

-11-

"Of course you'll go to supper at Sam and Maddie's tomorrow night," Mrs. Porter said, standing in the doorway as Lark helped Lydia into one of her own nightgowns, having just given the child a sponge bath. Directly after taking her leave from Mabel Fairmont, and coming straight home with the ragged bundle clenched in her arms, Lark had saved Lydia's aunt the trouble of disposing of the little girl's pitifully few clothes by stuffing them into the belly of the cook-stove.

Lark sighed. She hadn't wanted anything, in a very long time, as much as she wanted to accept Maddie's kind invitation—except, of course, for Rowdy Rhodes, and that was a very different kind of wanting.

"Lydia will be just fine here with Mai Lee and me," Mrs. Porter insisted. "Won't you, dear?"

Lydia managed a little nod and drifted off to sleep.

"Come and have tea," Mrs. Porter told Lark, and though she spoke kindly, there was an underlying note of command in her voice.

Lark, her energy renewed after the brisk walk to and from the interview with the recalcitrant Mabel, felt restless. She wanted to march right down to the school-house, fling open the door and ring the bell, announcing to all and sundry that classes were resuming now.

There would be no point to that enterprise, of course, since so few of the children—many of whom lived well out of town, along trails and roads buried under snow— could be realistically expected to attend.

So Lark followed Mrs. Porter into her kitchen and resigned herself to sitting down and sipping tea. This was inordinately difficult, since she was besieged by a strange, urgent sense that she needed to prepare for some impending crisis.

Mrs. Porter brought the teapot and the usual elegant cups and saucers to the table. Mai Lee was out on some errand, and they had the place to themselves, though Mr. Porter's coat, hanging on one of the pegs by the door, neatly brushed and aired, as though he might appear and put it on at any moment, belied the fact.

"Did you speak to Lydia?" the landlady asked, standing to pour tea for both of them and then sitting down. "About Nell Baker's coming for her, I mean?"

Lark sighed. Toyed with the handle of her teacup. "I asked her if she knew her aunt—though I didn't say the woman would be on her way to Stone Creek to fetch her as soon as there's a thaw—and she said she'd never met her. Apparently, Lydia's father and Miss Baker corresponded."

"What kind of person do you suppose she is?" Mrs. Porter fretted.

"I wish I knew," Lark said. Given her druthers, she would have raised Lydia herself, but Miss Baker was a blood relation, the child's maternal aunt, and as such she would have a legal advantage. "She can't be worse than Mrs. Fairmont."

"Mabel Fairmont," Mrs. Porter said, "is nothing but a trollop."

"Was it—" Lark paused, bit her lower lip, then made herself ask the question, well aware that contained an implicit accusation. "Was it common knowledge in Stone Creek that Lydia was living in squalor?"

Mrs.

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