Hidden in a Whisper (30 page)

“Mr. Parker, you have a great deal to explain,” Esmeralda said in a low, calculated tone.

TRA CIE PET ERS O N “I suppose you might think so,” Braeden replied, “but this isn't at 188 all what it looks like.”

“I don't want to hear lies,” the old woman continued. “I've heard enough lies in my lifetime. You are clearly out of line here, and I want to know what is going on.”

At this, Ivy managed to get to her feet and, still grasping her bodice, stumbled to where her aunt stood. “Oh, Auntie, it was terrible.

He came here, he said, to see you. I thought it rather silly since you were at the celebration and everyone knew you'd be there.” She swayed a bit on her feet. “I told him he could wait here for you, but then he asked for a drink—” “That's a lie!” Braeden roared.

Ivy looked terribly frightened and backed up a step. “Well, it wasn't for him, as it turned out. He forced me to drink it. In fact, he forced me to drink a great deal. See for yourself. The glass and the brandy decanter are over there.”

All four of them looked to where she pointed and sure enough there was a half-filled glass and a decanter with less than two inches of amber liquid still inside.

“That was nearly half full,” Esmeralda declared, looking to Braeden for explanation.

“I had nothing to do with her drinking,” he replied adamantly.

“She came in here drunk and started throwing herself at me.”

“Oh really, Mr. Parker? You come here knowing I won't be here, then expect me to believe it was all for decent purposes?”

“I don't care what you believe,” Braeden replied, but his glance went to Rachel and his eyes seemed to plead with her to believe him innocent.

Rachel couldn't think clearly, much less determine who was telling the truth. She knew Ivy was prone to deception, but was Ivy capable of pulling off something like this?

“He made me drink,” Ivy continued, “and then he became too friendly with me.” She let loose a stream of tears. “I'm ruined,” she declared, nearly causing Rachel to scream out loud in fear and frustration. She put her hand to her mouth, as if to stop any sound from coming forth, but her action caused Reg to move closer. His protective stance became more personal as he drew her to him supportively. For a moment, Rachel actually welcomed his touch.

Braeden scowled at this but turned his attention back to Ivy and her aunt. “She is hardly ruined. She did nothing but throw herself at me—and it failed. What you saw was my attempt to calm her down and get help. I was merely placing her upon the sofa in order to keep her from falling down. Look at her. She's swaying back and forth as if she were a flag in the wind.”

“Liquor has that effect on a person, Mr. Parker,” Esmeralda stated severely.

“He's ruined me, Auntie. He doesn't care now that he's done the deed. You have witnesses,” Ivy said boldly.

“Whether she's ruined or not,” Braeden replied, “has nothing to do with anything I've done or not done. She's angry because I've rejected her for another, and she means to see me pay for it.”

“Oh, Braeden, you're just being mean. That's not at all what you told me earlier,” Ivy sobbed. “You made me believe you cared. You said we'd always be together and that—” “It hardly matters what was said earlier,” Esmeralda declared. “What I really want to know from you, Mr. Parker, is whether I send for the marshal or the preacher.”

Rachel could take no more. She turned on her heel and ran for the front door. She couldn't bear the look on Braeden's face, nor the smug gleam of satisfaction in Ivy's drunken expression. She hurried down the front steps of the mansion, catching the hem of her gown and nearly falling down the final two steps. She righted herself quickly, and as she raised her head, she saw the church just across the street. It seemed to beckon her forward. It offered her comfort and hope. But no doubt it was locked up tight and would afford her no refuge. And right now, in her deepest desperation, she didn't want to take the chance that someone would follow after her, allowing no means of escape. Especially if that someone turned out to be Braeden.

Without giving another thought to what she was doing, Rachel cut across the well-kept lawn of the Needlemeier estate and made her way deep into the gardens. There were quiet spots of refuge along the pathway, stone benches and wooden swings, any one of which could afford her privacy and silence. But Rachel needed something more than this. She needed solace. She needed to hear the voice of God speak comfort to her heart.

Moving deeper into the gardens, away from the hot springs and the laughter of lingering resort guests, Rachel found a secluded bench and sat down to weep. Here, far from the festive lighting of Casa Grande, the blackness seemed to enfold her like a mother's arms. The junipers and mesquites shielded her from the brunt of the chilling breeze, but the coolness of the night seemed unimportant compared to the icy foreboding that stabbed at her heart. Suddenly she felt more weary than she had ever felt in her life. It was all too much to deal with, and down deep in her heart, all she longed for was a long, silent sleep.

“Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”
She remembered the verse from Matthew. “I need that rest, Lord.” She sighed and gazed into the trees.

For several moments she did nothing but draw strength from her surroundings. The heavy scent of juniper and pine assaulted her senses, and the canopy they formed made her feel rather secure and hidden from the world. A glorious aroma of flowering shrubs and meticulously tended flower beds blended with that of the trees, painting a picture in scents more wondrous than the human eye could imagine. But as lovely as this was, Rachel could hardly appreciate the majesty.

Her ear caught the melodious rippling of the hot spring as it flowed down a series of falls. The sound soothed her nerves and helped her to relax. Pulling her shawl tighter, Rachel leaned back against the bench.

“I'm so tired,” she said aloud. “I'm tired of fighting against the feelings I have inside of me. Feelings of love for Braeden, anger toward Ivy, frustration with Mrs. Needlemeier, and confusion over Reginald.

I'm tired of the whining and complaining of the girls on my staff and the sinister turn of our unknown thief. I'm just worn out from it all. I get up in the morning more tired than the night before, and when I do make it to bed, I toss and turn for hours. God, what's wrong with me? Why can't I seem to find rest and peace?”

She thought of her father, a railroad man in Chicago. He had died only the year before she'd left to join the Harvey House system. He had been everything to her. While her mother was absorbed in the goings-on of her neighbors, her father had taken time to talk to Rachel, share stories, and encourage her.

“I wish you wouldn't have died,” she murmured, remembering his joyful smile. “I wish you were here now to advise me. You could always help me to see the brighter side of my circumstances.”

Sighing, Rachel hugged her body. It was as much to comfort herself as to ward off the cold. “There seems to be so much going on in my life. So much that is out of my control. I thought I had faith enough to get through those times, but maybe I've only been fooling myself. I honestly thought nothing could move me. Maybe I've never understood faith.”

Rachel remembered the scene at the mansion and felt hot tears course down her cheeks. The world seemed suddenly turned upside down, and with it she had been tossed to and fro like a lifeless doll. She had come to Morita with one expectation—to serve and make life more easy for the guests of the resort and, in the process, maybe find an easier way for herself. But her life here had resulted in stress and heartache.

Rachel continued to speak aloud, hoping the sound of her voice would help clear the confusion within her. “It seems I've always anticipated something better than what I found. I come to expect things a certain way—believe I understand them perfectly—and then something happens to destroy my way of thinking. Sometimes it's simply because I believed the words of someone who knew far less about a matter than they were willing to let on. I'd step out in faith that those words were true, only to find they were lies. I've wasted a great deal of time giving myself over to such matters—trusting people who did not deserve my trust.”

But your trust should be fixed first in the Lord
, a voice seemed to say.

How often had she heard her mother say that people often fail you? Hadn't those been her mother's words of comfort when she had gone home completely devastated after her confrontation with Braeden?

Of course, there were different ways of looking at trust, and with exception to the trust she placed in God, Rachel had been otherwise disappointed.
Maybe I expect too much
, she thought.
Maybe I expect a perfection that only exists in heaven. People will always be motivated by hundreds of different reasons, and it isn't my place to judge them
. She knew her own thoughts were wise counsel, but it was hard to find strength in them.

Feeling completely spent, her limbs leaden and useless, Rachel contemplated what she should do. Perhaps she would just doze here in the gardens and when she awoke in the morning, all of her problems would be resolved and the burdens would be lifted.

“In prayer you are responsible to let go of your burdens,”
she remembered Pastor Johnson preaching.
“Remember, God cannot take them—if you will not give them.”
She smiled. It seemed to be very sound reasoning.

“This will not be easy,” she said, remembering the events of the evening. Ivy was a meticulous liar; of this Rachel had no doubt. She had caught the girl conniving against Gwen and others, and it should come as no surprise that she would scheme to get back at Rachel through Braeden.

Haven't I heard her state that she's only looking for a husband of means and then she will leave Casa Grande?
She felt a wash of peace come over her. She stated as a confirmation, “Braeden is innocent. He's merely a victim of her manipulation.”

It seemed so right to believe this, and Rachel took a deep breath and sighed. “I give you this burden, Lord. I give you my sorrow, my worry, my fears, and my doubt. I give all of this to you, but I give something more as well.” She paused and again looked upward. “I give you my trust, my hope, my faith, and my love. I know that you are able to take all of this madness and turn it into calm and peace. I will rest in you.”

Just then voices sounded from somewhere beyond her refuge. Rachel perked up and looked around her in the darkness. Had Braeden come to find her? Or Reginald? She drew a deep breath and realized she would have to face them sooner or later. Reginald had been supportive and kind, and she appreciated the way he looked after her. And Braeden—Braeden deserved her support in this trial. He had suffered by her hand because of her choice to believe in gossip and hearsay. He shouldn't be punished now by the manipulated circumstances fashioned by Ivy's hand. And Rachel was certain that was all the matter amounted to.

Getting to her feet, Rachel picked her way through the brush and vegetation and was surprised to find herself standing not ten feet away from the empty bandstand. The massive structure had been positioned about twenty yards from the hot spring pools and was large enough to contain a full-sized band or orchestra. But the gazebo itself didn't hold her attention for long—rather, the activity at the base of the structure urged her curiosity. Two men had taken off a piece of the latticework and one was now crawling inside, under the bandstand, while the other handed him something. It seemed most peculiar, and Rachel couldn't help but move closer.

When she was nearly upon them, Rachel could see a wooden crate with articles taken from the resort. “What are you doing?” she questioned without thinking of her isolated position.

The nearest man turned around and grinned a gapped-tooth smile at her. “Buenos noches, senorita,” he said, moving toward her.

Rachel backed up several steps, realizing her mistake. She thought to scream but the man was too quick for her. He was upon her in a flash, clapping a filthy hand over her mouth and dragging her backward toward the cover of darkness.

  
TWENTY-ONE