Diane T. Ashley (31 page)

“But she’s still—”

“I know.” He interrupted her protest with a raised hand. “You are my oldest child, and I’ve always been proud of the way you’ve shouldered the responsibility for raising both of your sisters. In a way, they are your children.”

Lily could feel the frown on her face. What did he mean? Yes, she loved Camellia and Jasmine in the same way she loved her children. Wasn’t that the way it was supposed to be? Shouldn’t she want the best for them the way she did for Noah, Magnolia, and Benjamin? Of course, Camellia was settled. She had a husband and a home—a family of her own to raise. But Jasmine was different. Jasmine still needed her.

“I’m speaking to you now as a parent, Lily. Don’t you remember the first time Noah scraped his knee on your gangplank?”

A picture formed in her mind of that day almost five years ago. Noah had been barely able to walk, but he had pulled away from her hand, insisting he could cross to the
Water Lily
by himself. Papa’s voice described the scene exactly the way she remembered it. A bright spring day, the river overflowing its banks as it often did. “Noah fell and scraped his knee.” She felt Papa had vindicated her concern. “But he could have fallen into the river. He might have drowned.”

“That’s true, Lily. Isn’t that why you and Blake taught him how to swim? In case he ever did fall overboard? You didn’t try to stop him from exploring the world. You gave him the tools he needed to conquer it. You have to trust that you and your sister have outfitted Jasmine so she can face whatever obstacles life throws at her. You won’t always be there for her, Lily.”

“I can be there for her now, though.” Lily wasn’t ready to give up the argument. She glanced at Camellia for support. “What would you do if we were talking about Amaryllis?”

Instead of taking her side, Camellia laughed. “I don’t think comparing the needs of my three-year-old is quite fair. Like Papa said, Jasmine is twenty years old. Remind me again how old you were when you purchased the
Hattie Belle
, your first boat?”

“That’s different.” Lily voiced the objection, but it didn’t ring true, even to her own ears.

Camellia raised her hand and held up one finger. “When you were even younger than Jasmine is right now, you bought a boat”—a second finger went up—“moved Jasmine and me onto it”—three fingers—“took off for New Orleans without any idea of what we would find there”—a fourth finger—“and failed to tell us the true identity of our captain.” She dropped her hand back into her lap.

Lily felt misused and misunderstood. Everything she’d done had been for them, after all. To make sure both Camellia and Jasmine had choices. “It didn’t turn out too badly, though, did it?”

“Of course not.” Papa’s emphatic answer made her feel a little less betrayed. “That’s exactly the point, Lily. All three of my daughters have a bit of the Anderson stubbornness, and you are determined to make your own way in life.”

Comprehension dawned. Unshed tears made her eyes sting. The tip of her nose was probably crimson.

“I know we all wish Jasmine had chosen a more proper vocation.” Camellia sighed. “But we cannot force her into the mold we would choose.”

“Do you think she’s safe?” Lily felt one of her tears escape. She swiped it away with an impatient finger. “I’m so scared she’ll make a mistake she can’t recover from.”

Camellia’s eyes widened. “She’s got a Pinkerton detective with her. David will make sure she’s not swept away. And I predict he’ll bring her back to us as soon as he thinks she’s had enough of freedom.”

“Why don’t we take our fears to Jesus?” Papa’s face rediscovered its smile. “He has promised to listen to our hearts’ desires.”

Lily nodded. “I’m sorry, Papa.”

He patted her shoulder. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about, Lily. You love your sisters. I know that. Sometimes you just get a little eager to solve all their problems for them.”

Camellia moved from the sofa she’d been using and plopped down between Lily and Papa. Reaching for both their hands, she squeezed her eyes shut. “Thank You, Lord, for watching over Jasmine. We know You love her even more than we do, and we are putting our trust in You to call her back into Your fold.”

As her sister spoke, Lily felt peace soak into her heart. When Camellia stopped, she took a deep breath. “God, please help me to lean on You instead of my own strengths, which are puny beyond belief. Thank You for my family, for a father and a sister who have my best interests at heart, even if they are a little harsh at times.”

Camellia’s choked laughter made her grin.

“Lord, our Father, the One who loves us beyond all understanding, we give thanks to You for sending Your Son to die on the cross for our sins. Sometimes we forget who is in control. Please forgive us for that. Be with my wondrous daughters in all their endeavors. Strengthen them, be with them, and help us all remember Your promises. You’ve created us for Your pleasure and called us for Your purpose. We rest in You, Lord … Amen.”

The parlor door opened as her father ended their prayer. Lily could tell by the looks on Blake’s and Jonah’s faces that they had heard at least some of the conversation.

“Have you solved all the problems of the world?” Blake’s question made Camellia giggle once more.

“I may wring Lily’s neck. Would you believe she complained to God because Papa and I were giving her a little advice?”

Except for Lily, everyone in the parlor laughed. Camellia patted her knee before returning to her former seat on the other side of the tea table.

Blake took her place between Lily and her father, his concern plain on his features.

Lily fished in the waist of her skirt for her handkerchief, wiping away the telltale tears that had slipped down her cheeks during their prayer. “Everything’s fine, honey. They were just setting me straight.”

Her husband’s dark eyebrows climbed toward his hairline. “They’re braver than I am.”

This time Lily was able to join in the laughter, even though she swatted her husband’s shoulder. “Don’t you start on me, too.”

As Papa told his sons-in-law about his intentions with regard to Tessie, Lily mused about the advice she had received from him and Camellia. If she wasn’t going to look for Jasmine—and she was beginning to agree that it would be a poor idea—maybe it was time for her to take that trip Blake had his heart set on. At least she would have something new to focus on. Something that would have nothing to do with the paths her sisters chose.

T
he
Ophelia
remained in Memphis for longer than planned because of the number of people attending each performance. Jasmine realized the Easleys wanted to rake in all the money possible, but she was ready to head north. She didn’t want to look out into the audience and realize Lily had caught up with them. And she was anxious to begin rehearsing for their Fourth of July production, a series of one-act vignettes on the highlights of America’s founding. Clem had told her it would end with everyone on stage singing patriotic numbers. Jasmine hoped she could fake her part in the singing since she couldn’t carry a tune in a bushel basket.

Jasmine was still excited about the production because Mr. Easley had slated her for the part of Princess Pocahontas. She would finally be the star on stage instead of second fiddle for Tabitha. If only they would leave Memphis.

Over the past week, life had fallen into a humdrum rhythm. The manager gave the actors mornings off unless they flubbed their lines the night before. She had visited Renée and Eli Thornton once but usually spent her mornings with Clem, helping the other girl with the never-ending work of keeping the costumes mended and altered.

The only times she saw David were immediately after each evening performance and before the dinner meal, when he escorted her and Clem back and forth from their room. She suspected it was his way of covering his real goal of hanging about to look for evidence. The more time that passed, the more she became convinced he was on the wrong trail. But she’d given up trying to convince him.

A part of her was anxious for him to stay with them. She’d grown accustomed to his protective presence. Besides, he needed to remain on board for as long as it took for him to agree with her staying when he did leave.

“I don’t believe it.” Clem’s voice held more than a trace of irritation.

Jasmine put down the chemise she was stitching. “What’s wrong?”

“Angelica has pulled another seam apart.” Clem dug into a large bag that held scraps. “I don’t have the right color to make a patch.”

“What color do you need?”

“Magenta.”

Jasmine snapped her fingers. “When I was in Tabitha’s room last week, a torn scarf was lying on her chair. I wonder if she would donate it to the cause.”

“You and Tabitha sure have gotten close lately.”

“She’s writing to some of her theater friends about me.” Jasmine didn’t know why she felt defensive. It wasn’t like she was betraying their friendship. Clem had no wish to become a famous actress.

“Humph.” Clem took out her scissors and started removing the stitches on Angelica’s dress. “I hope you don’t wake up one day and find her knife planted in your back. Women like Miss Barlow never do something unless it will benefit them.”

“Maybe she wants to relive her glory days through me.”

“Perhaps.”

Jasmine blew out an irritated breath. “Do you want me to ask her about the scarf or not?”

“Yes, go ahead.” Clem kept her gaze on the cloth in her lap.

Making her way to the other corridor that housed the first-billed actors, Jasmine wondered what Clem would say if she knew Jasmine’s plans for the future included her. Once she was making enough money to support herself in style, she would need a talented dressmaker. Clem had an eye for the right color and style. If she was given free rein to create what she wanted, the result would probably be stunning.

Jasmine was surprised to see Tabitha’s door ajar when she reached it. The actress was usually very particular about her privacy. Her heart thumped as she knocked on the door.

A scuffling sound from the room made her think the actress might be in trouble.

“Tabitha?” She pushed at the door but found she could not open it. “Tabitha, are you okay?”

“Who’s there?” The voice that answered did not belong to Tabitha. Not unless she had learned how to mimic a man.

“David?”

The door stopped resisting her pressure and swung open, revealing David’s blazing green gaze. “What are you doing here?”

Quashing the uncomfortable idea that he might have an assignation with the actress, she put her hands on her hips. “I have an irreproachable errand. What excuse do you have for being in a woman’s boudoir?”

He pulled her inside the room by one elbow. “I’m looking for evidence, of course.”

“In Tabitha’s room? You’ve lost your mind. Do you really think a female can be your culprit?” She noticed he was wearing a workman’s apron. Was he supposed to be on duty on the
Miss Polly
?

David dropped her elbow and stepped back. “No one’s above suspicion, even though I agree that a female is not the probable culprit.”

“If Tabitha catches you in here, she’ll make sure you get sacked. Then what will you do?”

“I suppose I could depend on you to get me the information I need.”

For a moment she thought he was serious. Then she saw the gleam in his gaze. He was about as serious as a clown.

Before she could counter with a biting remark, he raised a hand to signify his capitulation. “She’s gone on another of her shopping expeditions.” He picked up a feather boa from the floor and draped it over the back of Tabitha’s slipper chair. “I saw her leave half an hour ago, so I have at least that much more time before I have to worry about her return.”

“Have you found anything?” She winced at the derision in her voice. The inflection was uncomfortably close to Tabitha’s.

“She spends more on jewelry and geegaws than she can afford on her current salary.”

Jasmine glanced over his shoulder at a large bouquet of fresh flowers. “She has a lot of male admirers. Did you stop to think some of them might be giving her gifts of jewelry and geegaws?”

His shoulders drooped, and David nodded. “I know. But it’s getting frustrating. I have to find something soon or admit defeat.” When David spoke the words out loud, dismay filled her. Not that she needed him, of course. But his presence was reassuring. She even found herself looking forward to meeting him each evening after she had removed her makeup and changed back into her regular clothes. She would miss telling him about her impressions of the other actors and giggling with him over the odd world of the theater. “What about Mr. Easley? Did you find out what he sends Vance to do?”

A half-grin appeared on David’s face. “He’s a passable director, but your Mr. Easley is not much of a businessman. At least not when it comes to mathematics. Vance counts the money for him and takes it to the bank where he gets change. I’m sure that’s what he was talking about.”

“Will you finally admit Vance is innocent?”

“Of bank robbery, maybe. But that man doesn’t have an innocent bone in his body.”

Jasmine found herself unable to argue the point. Vance was much more circumspect whenever her “brother” was around. If David was working on the
Miss Polly
, Vance was becoming more and more insistent toward her. He made personal remarks and touched her with increasing frequency, brushing back a strand of her hair or running a finger along the back of her arm. Jasmine didn’t want to offend him. Vance was the reason she was here, after all. But if he didn’t tone down his gestures and words, she was going to have to tell him in no uncertain terms that she was not a woman of ill repute.

She wasn’t ready to share that side of Vance with David. He was already too suspicious of the man. She turned her attention to the part of the room where she’d last seen the scarf she wanted, her cheeks heating as she caught sight of a pair of Tabitha’s lacy pantaloons. “You really shouldn’t be in here.”

“I’ve seen lady’s undergarments before.” David’s grin widened.