Given that I was only four when they died of yellow fever, I had only a few memories of my parents. One of them was of my mother scolding me for lying about taking a cookie without asking. Tell the truth, Phillip, even when you know you could get away with a fib.
However, Martha was a stranger to me. I didn’t want Josephine needlessly hurt. If she were to learn Walter’s true character, it should come from me.
“Mr. Baker?”
I returned my gaze to Martha. “Men don’t speak often of matters of the heart.”
“But what about men who face death daily? Don’t they confess their fears? Their loves?”
I was starting to feel rather sorry for Martha’s husband. “I’m not sure what you’re asking.”
“You are sure.”
I didn’t say anything.
“I’ll be clearer,” she said. “Was he in love with Josephine? Was he planning on marrying her as she thought?”
“Respectfully, Mrs. Neal, I’m not sure I know, even if it were for me to say.”
One eyebrow rose. “I see.”
I was afraid she did.
“May I ask,” I said, drawing the words out long, “if his intentions were not completely pure, what would you advise me to tell Josephine?”
She stared at me for a few seconds. Even the baby had stopped chewing on her cookie to focus on me. “I suppose that depends on your intentions. Have you come to hurt her?”
“Of course not. The opposite.”
She gave me a satisfied smile. “May I take a guess, Mr. Baker, about your actual intentions?”
“Of course.” Despite the chill of the train’s car, my shirt clung to my back.
“You’ve fallen in love with her photograph. And perhaps you’ve read her letters, which made you aware of her intelligence and good heart. You most certainly are the one who told Walter what to write about the books.”
I coughed and returned to the view of the landscape.
“You’ve come to get to know her,” Martha said. “To see if your instincts about her are correct.”
“What if I have? Will you rat on me?” I turned back to my interrogator.
She gave me another satisfied smile. “How fortunate that we were to meet today.”
I swallowed and waited for the blow. Was there any other way for her to interpret my actions? Traipsing across the country because I thought I was in love with a girl I’d never met would not be greeted with approval.
“Josephine is my dear friend whom I love very much. However, I also have excellent instincts about people, and I’ve thought from the beginning that something wasn’t quite right with this Walter character. Josephine has been practical and steady her entire life, but in this particular instance, I think she was taken away by the idea of love.”
“Don’t underestimate his charm,” I said drily. “He’d perfected it over time.”
“How long had you known him?”
I drew in a deep breath. I was in too far now. “I knew him for a brief time when we were children. We were at the same orphanage for a year or so. Until he ran away.”
Both eyebrows raised this time. “Ran away? To where, I wonder?”
“In all truthfulness, I don’t know.” He’d run away at twelve, unable to abide by the nuns’ rules. Even during all the hours we’d spent together during the war, he’d not filled me in on exactly where he went or how he survived during the time before he joined the army. I had a distinct feeling that he’d been involved in criminal activity.
“Were there other women? Is he a charlatan? Did he want her money?” Martha asked. “Please, Mr. Baker, tell me the truth.”
“I believe all those things to be true.”
“Believe or know?”
“Know.”
“And the others?”
“All from wealthy families. He was ensuring his future upon his return.”
She was quiet for a moment. Her cheeks had flushed red and she repeatedly tapped her foot as if she wanted to bore a hole through the floor. Finally, she turned to look at me.
“This is what you’re going to do, Mr. Baker. Give it a few days before you tell her of Walter’s true intentions. I’m afraid it’ll drive her away. Kill the messenger, if you will.”
“Yes.”
“Spend time with her. Maybe use a little charm of your own to thaw her out, perhaps show her how much life there is to live.”
“Being charming’s not really my strength. I’ve nothing to offer, really.”
“But you’ve come anyway?”
“Ever hopeful.”
“You’re handsome. That will help.”
I almost laughed. “I am?”
“Yes. Have you not seen yourself in the mirror? Strong jawline. High cheekbones. Sapphire-colored eyes. Enough hair for three men. My husband will be jealous of that, I can assure you.”
“Walter looked like the god of the sun or the like,” I said. “All golden.”
“Yes, I can imagine the type.” She wiped drool from Quinn’s chin with a handkerchief before looking back at me. “One piece of advice. If you win over her family, that’s half the battle. They’re as tight a clan as they come.”
I nodded. “That much was clear from the letters.”
She made a noise somewhere between a yelp and yap. “You did read them. I knew it.”
“I’m ashamed to admit it, but yes. He’d stored them all in a box. I took them with me after he was killed.”
“Did you not have letters of your own?”
“No. There’s no one. Never has been.”
“There should be.”
It was my turn to study Martha. “What makes you think I’m any different from Walter?”
“My parents own the dry goods store in town. I’ve spent my whole life watching people from behind the counter. I can tell an honest man when I see one.”
I had no idea what I’d done to make her think I was honest, but I didn’t ask. She’d figured out everything else rather quickly.
“Her family invited me to stay for the holidays,” I said. “Which astounded me.”
“Get ready, Mr. Baker. That’s just the beginning. In Emerson Pass no one’s allowed to be a stranger for long. Before you know it, you’ll feel like you’ve been here forever.”
As if the train agreed, it slowed as we approached the station.
“Welcome to Emerson Pass,” Martha said. “Where you can belong if you only ask.”
Josephine
The house was quiet the afternoon we expected Phillip Baker to arrive. After lunch, I wandered down to the sitting room, where I found Theo at one of the windows.
Papa was at the office. My sisters, other than Delphia, were all at school. Mama and Jasper were downstairs working with Lizzie on the plans for the holiday festival in town. On hiatus during the war, we’d happily brought back the tradition last season. This was to be our most exciting one yet. We would have lights for the first time. At considerable expense, Papa had ordered lights to hang over our frozen pond and to decorate the tall fir that stood next to the gazebo. There would be food, music, ice-skating, and Santa for the children.