The Captive Within (A Prairie Heritage, Book 4) (15 page)

Mrs. Brewster returned our plate in person today, the one
we filled with Marit’s ginger cookies and sent home with her and Mr. Brewster.
She apologized for keeping the plate so long.

“Truthfully, Mrs. Thoresen, I’ve been remiss. I have wanted
to bring it sooner, but . . .” I waited for her to finish her
thought, which she finally did, in a great rush.

“Miss DeWitt is terribly wrought up regarding your, er,
school. All the neighbors have discussed it and have agreed that, to date, your
presence has only been a credit to the neighborhood. Why, just the improvements
to the grounds have been a marked advance given the state they have been in for
so many years!

“Unfortunately, our wait-and-see decision has rather
incensed Miss DeWitt. Since she has not been able to garner the support of the
neighborhood, she has taken her cause to other like-minded women. I’m afraid
they are bent on seeing your venture discredited.”

The poor woman hurried on, quite as though a mad dog was
chasing her. “I wanted you to know that she is planning something. I don’t know
the particulars, but it has to do with the furnishings shop your daughter and
her husband have opened.”

She leaned toward me and whispered very seriously.
“Please do not think Mr. Brewster and I have anything to do with her plans!” I
assured her I would not think badly of her and thanked her for her concern.

Lord, we have encountered more difficulties this year
than I could have imagined! So, of course, as soon as she left, I wanted to
telephone downtown and warn Joy and Grant, but instead I am bringing all these
concerns to you!

You already knew all about Miss DeWitt and her schemes,
didn’t you, Father? I no longer trust in my own strength or abilities. They
will not suffice! Rather, I choose to trust and believe you will defend us
against Miss DeWitt’s accusations, for your word declares that you will defend
us.

And so I cast the care of this situation on you. I know
you care so very much for us. We also wait in faith for the police to recapture
Morgan and Su-Chong.

Lord, we trust you.

—

That afternoon Rose told Joy and Grant of Mrs. Brewster’s
visit. They, in turn cautioned Billy, Corrine, and Sarah.

“As you said, Mother Rose, we can do nothing but trust the
Lord with this,” Grant agreed. “We will pray; however,
we will be watchful
as well
, asking the Lord to guide us when the time comes.”

Rose watched Sarah fold her hands tightly together. The girl
had come a long way in her walk with the Lord since the morning she had truly
surrendered to him. Morgan’s escape had shaken all of them and elicited many
worried questions. Rose had led them to daily confess their trust that God
would see justice done.

Your heavenly Father will walk with you through this,
dear Sarah!
Lean on him,
Rose encouraged silently.

—

Pastor Carmichael called upon Palmer House later that
evening. The household had attended Calvary Temple a few Sundays now, but as
yet had not introduced themselves to the pastor. The young man, dressed in
ordinary clothing, somewhat worn but presentable, apologized for not being
expected.

“I pray you will forgive my unannounced visit,” he whispered
to Rose. “I do not have a telephone, and Pastor Jamison has given such a
glowing account of your work, I could wait no longer to make your acquaintance.
On Sundays I am much too occupied to greet newcomers.”

“Pastor, you are welcome,” Rose assured him. Billy, Marit,
and little Will had retired upstairs after dinner, as had Grant and Joy, so
only Rose, Mr. Wheatley, and the girls remained to visit with him.

Rose conducted him to the great room rather than the parlor,
as he had expressed a wish to meet everyone in the house. Many of the girls
were clearly flustered at their unexpected introduction to the preacher, but he
soon set them at ease, asking easily about the renovations to the house and
their further plans.

“I heartily commend you all,” the pastor told them, “and am
praying for your continued good work! In fact, I wish to ask more questions, if
I may be allowed?”

Just then Breona and Gretl entered the great room with two
trays of tea and cakes. As they began to serve, Rose introduced them to the
young pastor. Gretl curtsied and handed him a plate with a slice of chocolate
cake; Breona came after and settled a cup and saucer beside him.

“It’s Miss Byrne, is it?” Pastor Carmichael asked.

“Yis, sir,” Breona replied softly.

“I thank you kindly,” he added.

Breona colored a tiny bit and said nothing further, but Rose
noted that the pastor’s eyes followed Breona around the room. Finally he turned
his attention to Rose again.

“Mrs. Thoresen—and all of you, in fact—I believe you have
been to Calvary Temple and have seen what God is doing in our services?”

“Yes,” Rose replied. “I have come away so blessed and
refreshed!”

He nodded. “I am glad indeed. The Lord is moving mightily on
the hearts of many. And we have seen several . . .
young
ladies
come to the Savior and seek a new life in him.”

He cleared his throat. “One of my questions, perhaps a
delicate one, is to ask if you are open to receiving new . . .
household members?”

Rose nodded, too. Several girls looked to her for her
answer. “We are, Pastor.”

He sipped his tea thoughtfully. “The Lord has brought five
of our congregation out of this way of life. They are doing well, although the
transition was difficult and sometimes dangerous. Lately two of the ladies have
gone out onto the streets to share what the Lord has done for them—but always
accompanied by several strong men charged with protecting them.”

He met and held the gaze of several of the girls. “I know
how force and brutality were used against many of you. I would never wish you
to be in danger of such abuse again and I would, personally, stand between you
and any who would ever attempt to harm you.”

Turning back to Rose he said, “May I ask you, when we are
sharing the Gospel on the street, may we speak of your house as a refuge?”

Rose nodded her acquiescence. “But for safety’s sake, we
have thought that our location should be withheld until a young woman is ready
to make the decision to leave. Perhaps when she is, we could come to the church
and meet with her, explaining what is required for her to stay at Palmer
House.”

“I agree with you, Mrs. Thoresen. I would not wish any of
the men who, er,
manage
these ladies to know your location.”

Breona gave the conversation half of her attention as she
minded the tea things, shuttling between the kitchen and great room to refill
the tea pots. But she found herself listening for the pastor’s voice.

Loik foine music, ’tis
, she thought idly, smiling.
Then she blushed a little. Just a very little.

~~**~~

They did not have to wait long for the attack Mrs. Brewster
predicted to break. Two mornings later Grant, who had entered from the back
door, unlocked the front entrance to
Michaels’ Fine Household Furnishings
and
turned the “Closed” sign to “Open,” ready for another day of business.

He was met by a knot of women clustered on the walk just
outside the door. They stared daggers at him through the glass. At their fore
was Miss DeWitt.

Grant stepped out of the store. “Good morning, Miss DeWitt.
Good morning, ladies.” Grant already deduced from the signs they carried why
they were there.

One sign read,
Do Not Patronize This Store
. Another,
in bold red, declared,
House of Ill-Repute
! Yet another boasted,
Do
Not Buy Your Furnishings from Fallen Women
. Instead of responding to
Grant’s greeting, the women turned up their noses and began walking an oblong
circuit the length of the shop, holding their signs high.

They were picketing the store!

“How long will they do this?” Joy asked, worry creasing her
brow. It was nearing noon, and not one customer had crossed the lines of women
demonstrating in front of their shop. A small crowd had gathered across the
street, pointing at the protesters and chattering to themselves. New passersby
joined the assembly while others, having watched their fill, continued on their
way.

“Surely they must be getting weary,” Corrine observed. “They
have been walking for three hours now.”

“If you watch closely, they take turns taking breaks,” Sarah
pointed out. “I have counted twelve ladies, but only nine march at a time.
Three walk toward the park every 15 minutes and then return and relieve three
others.”

“They are well-organized, I’ll give them that,” Billy
answered wryly.

“What are we going to do, Grant?” Joy whispered.

“We are going to pray.” He gathered the store staff around
him and, within view of the protesters, they held hands and bowed their heads.

At closing time Grant locked the doors and turned over the
“Open” sign to “Closed.” The protesters smiled broadly and congratulated each
other. Not one customer had entered the store all day.

The next day the women and their signs returned. And the day
after that. Each morning Grant and Joy gathered their staff and prayed for a quarter
of an hour. Then they busied themselves cleaning the store and reorganizing
their stock.

On the fourth morning, around 11
o’clock, Martha Palmer’s liveried driver pulled up in front of the store and
stopped. The elderly woman was impeccably dressed as was her usual manner.

Aided by her companion, Mei-Xing, Mrs. Palmer slowly stepped
out of the car and steadied herself with her cane. The group of protesting
women considered the formidable old lady warily.

Most knew her by sight. All knew her by reputation.

“Pardon me,” Mrs. Palmer said clearly. “You are blocking my
way.” She began to hobble toward the shop’s front door with Mei-Xing following
closely behind her.

The women, unsure of what to do, parted for Mrs. Palmer. All
but Miss DeWitt. Scowling at the timidity of her followers, she placed herself
between Mrs. Palmer and the door.

“Good morning, Mrs. Palmer,” she said, twisting her sour
face into what might be construed as a smile.

“Good morning. It’s Miss DeWitt, isn’t it?” Martha Palmer
asked, looking up at her.

“Why, yes, it is.” Miss DeWitt was somewhat flattered that
Mrs. Palmer knew her by name. She smiled again.

“Well, now that we’ve cleared that up,” Martha replied
tartly, “would you kindly move out of my way?”

“Pardon me, Mrs. Palmer, but may I draw your attention to
our efforts here today? We are protesting this store and its patently dishonest
presentation of itself as a respectable establishment.”

“You are, are you?” Martha Palmer twisted her head so that
she could look Miss DeWitt in the eye. “Well, I am here to support this quite
respectable store. Now, for the third time, please give way and allow me to
pass.”

“I . . . I’m afraid I can’t do that, Mrs.
Palmer,” Miss DeWitt stammered. The conversation was not going as she had
anticipated and she flushed, a bit affronted before her fellow protesters.

“Eh? Can’t do that?” Mrs. Palmer chuckled. “Miss DeWitt,
please allow me to demonstrate how simple it is.” She turned slightly. “Miss
Li? Your arm, if you please.”

Mei-Xing stepped to her side with alacrity and Mrs. Palmer
shifted her weight to Mei-Xing’s arm. As soon as she was steady, she raised her
cane a mere six inches and gave Miss DeWitt a sound rap in the shin.

“Oww!” Miss DeWitt hopped aside in obvious pain.

“As I said,” Mrs. Palmer said dryly as she hobbled forward,
“quite simple.”

Most of Miss DeWitt’s compatriots appeared shocked; a few
smothered spontaneous smiles, and one could not quite hold back a titter.
Mei-Xing opened the door to the shop and Martha Palmer hobbled her way into the
store.

“Mrs. Palmer! Good morning—how lovely to see you today!” Joy
was sincerely delighted to see the lady and Mei-Xing.

Martha craned her neck and grinned at Joy. “Heard you were
experiencing some trouble and thought I would come and have some fun.”

Joy’s face fell. “Thank you for coming. We have not had a
single customer in four days.” She looked through the door’s glass. Miss DeWitt
was scolding her followers and pointing at the door. The women picked up their
signs and, as Miss DeWitt gestured, resumed their march up and down the
walkway.

One of the demonstrators, however, was arguing with Miss
DeWitt. As Joy watched, the woman lost her patience with Miss DeWitt, threw
down her sign, and stomped off.

“Look! One of them is leaving!” Joy, Martha Palmer, and
Mei-Xing drew near the door’s window and watched the woman leave. As they did,
Miss DeWitt saw their smiles and turned a bright, angry red. Abruptly, she put
her hand on the door’s knob and pushed her way into the store.

“Now see here, Martha Palmer! I can
not
believe you
actually
struck
me! Why, I could have the police called on you for
assault!” Miss DeWitt had pursed her lips together until they resembled an
indignant prune.

Martha rounded on her. “And I cannot believe you have
committed such egregious defamation of character, Cora DeWitt. I will be in
contact with my attorney this very day regarding it.”

“Wh-what? You cannot do that!” Miss DeWitt sputtered. “Why,
look! There is one of
those women.
Right
there
!” She pointed a
gloved finger at Sarah, who immediately cringed. “The owners promote this, this
place
as an upstanding, reputable establishment, all the while employing
fallen women
as clerks!”

Martha glanced across the store to where the staff was
clustered, watching the exchange between the two women. Joy, seething with
indignation, could no longer contain herself.

“See here! I will not have you disparage my girls in my own
shop!” she cried, advancing on Miss DeWitt. “You will—”

“My dear Mrs. Michaels,” Martha interrupted quietly. “Would
you please be so gracious as to step back a moment and allow me to handle
this?”

Without waiting for Joy’s response, she called to Sarah.
“Miss Sarah, kindly come here.” Corrine and Sarah were standing together and
Sarah glanced at Corrine with panic in her eyes.

“Please, my dear.” Martha repeated. Sarah straightened
herself and walked to the elderly woman. Mei-Xing, off to Mrs. Palmer’s side,
slanted Sarah a sympathetic look.

Once Sarah was near her, Martha Palmer asked, “Miss DeWitt,
is this the young woman to whom you refer?” Sarah managed to stand erect under
Miss DeWitt’s critical scrutiny.

Miss DeWitt, shocked at having to face one of “those women”
began to sputter. “Why, yes, she is! I have seen her at
that house
with
my own eyes!”

Martha’s eyes glittered and she asked softly, “Miss Sarah,
may I ask you a personal question? I only do so because Miss DeWitt is
so
concerned.”

“Yes ma’am,” Sarah managed, feeling as though her throat was
filled with dust.

“Will you please tell Miss DeWitt what Jesus has done for
you?”

“I—” Sarah didn’t know what to say. Her eyes shot around the
room and caught on little Mei-Xing standing behind Mrs. Palmer. The girl’s
ivory face suddenly curved into a confident smile. She nodded at Sarah.

And then Sarah felt it. That warm, comforting peace! She
smiled back at Mei-Xing.

“What are you smiling about?” Miss DeWitt hissed. “Are you
making fun of your betters?”

“No, ma’am. I wouldn’t do that,” Sarah said sincerely. “I
was just feeling the peace that Jesus gives me and it . . . made
me smile.”

“Harrumph!”

“You see, I
was . . .
once one of
‘those women’. You know,” her voice dropped quite low, “a
prostitute
.”

Miss DeWitt drew back a step as Sarah uttered the odious
word.

“I never wanted or chose to be one,” Sarah shrugged her
shoulders. “It was . . . forced on me. Nevertheless, I was one.
It blackened my soul as surely as if I
had
chosen it. When the marshals
freed us and we came to live with Miss Rose and Mr. and Mrs. Michaels, I didn’t
have to do such things any longer, but . . . it didn’t help. I
was still so ashamed.”

Sarah sighed. “I thought just as you do—that I would always
be one of ‘those women’. But then Jesus came to live within me
and . . . everything changed. He washed me as clean as a newborn
baby. Just as the Bible says, I became a new creation.”

She glanced at Mei-Xing, and the
girl’s eyes were shining with pride.
Sarah, still in awe of the truth,
looked at Miss DeWitt. “Jesus said,
If the Son
therefore shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed
. I am free, Miss
DeWitt. Free from my past, free from its chains, even free from the names
people sometimes still call me. I no longer need be ashamed.”

Miss DeWitt stared at Sarah, her
mouth working. Finally she clamped her lips together into a hard line.
“Fiddle-dee-dee! I have never heard such tripe!”

Sarah smiled sadly at her and then
looked to Mrs. Palmer. The lady dismissed Sarah with a nod.

Mrs. Palmer vigorously thumped her
cane on the floor, and Miss DeWitt jumped.
“Miss DeWitt, I have been
wondering why you have such a bee in your bonnet over Mr. and Mrs. Michael’s
efforts to provide these young women with honest employment. I b’lieve I have
figured it out.”

She edged closer to Miss DeWitt and crooked her finger at
the woman. Flustered and more than a bit disconcerted, Miss DeWitt leaned
closer to Martha Palmer’s face.

“I know what Clay Redmond did to you all those years ago.”
Martha whispered, laying one of her bony hands on Miss DeWitt’s wrist.

Miss DeWitt jerked as though she had been shot. She
attempted to pull away, but Martha Palmer was stronger than she looked, and she
gripped Miss DeWitt’s wrist tighter.

“I know he threw you over and your parents had to send you
away. I know they forced you to give up your baby. I know because that
scoundrel Redmond had too much to drink one evening and began to talk about it
at the club.”

Miss DeWitt’s face was bloodless and horrified. Mrs. Palmer
pulled her closer.

“I want you to know that my Chester yanked that sorry excuse
for a man into a corner and told him in no uncertain terms that if he ever
spoke of you again—
to anyone
—he would personally thrash his worthless
hide within an inch of his life.”

“Ohhh!” Miss DeWitt’s eyes were wide in her white face.

“I know you have never gotten over it, Miss DeWitt.” Martha
craned her neck a bit more, forcing Miss DeWitt to look at her. “It has turned
you into a miserable, self-righteous fool. But there is something else I know!
I know that Jesus is waiting—
and he is willing
—to take your shame just
as he took Sarah’s shame. You don’t have to hide anymore, Miss DeWitt. You can
be happy again.” Martha released Miss DeWitt’s hand and she stumbled backwards
just a little.

Miss DeWitt placed both of her gloved hands over her eyes
and gasped out a sob. Then she turned and ran from the store. Her group of
protesters gaped after her until Martha Palmer called to them.

“Ladies! This demonstration is over. Please lean your signs
against the building.” She stood in the doorway, imperious and unflappable.
“That’s right. Just so. And now I would like to invite you inside to meet Mr.
and Mrs. Michaels and their staff.”

Somehow Martha Palmer’s invitation brooked no refusal. After
glancing at each other in consternation, the women filed meekly into the store
and Mrs. Palmer undertook the introductions. The ladies met and shook hands
with Grant and Joy and each of their employees.

And although they made little conversation during the short
exchange, the majority went away genuinely puzzled—and perhaps a trifle
relieved—to have encountered only two sweet, conventionally dressed young women
rather than the flock of brazen, scantily clad floozies of whom Cora DeWitt had
warned them.

After the demonstrators had departed, Martha called Sarah to
her. She grasped Sarah’s hand and pressed her fingers to her lips. “Well said,
child, well said.” She smiled, her neck turned sideways. “Jesus has made you
beautiful and pure, inside and out. And now, by George, you are
fearless
,
too.”

One of her wrinkled eyes winked. “Always live a fearless
life, my dear. Never be afraid to testify to what God has done—and
never
allow
anyone to diminish his great work in you.”

Sarah was struck dumb with revelation.
Fearless
! Yes,
now she could be fearless, too.