“I’m sorry,” Rose gasped as they turned the corner by Jasper’s house.
“Don’t talk nonsense. That fire’s not your fault.”
Technically, they had started the fire. But neither of them had realized that it would so quickly get out of hand. Or spread to the entire building.
Please, Lord, Mary prayed. Let everyone get out safely.
She should have stayed behind to help. But then Rose coughed again, and Mary knew that Will had been right to send her home with her sister.
“It’s not much farther,” Mary said, putting her arm around Rose and helping her the last few feet to the stairs leading to the imposing Jackson mansion.
They’d barely set foot on the first step when the front door flew open, and Emma Jane came rushing out. “What happened?”
“There’s a fire at The Pink Petticoat. Jasper and Will are helping get people out. Rose needs a doctor.”
One of Mr. Jackson’s men came and grabbed Rose, carrying her into the house, while another rushed past Mary, presumably to get the doctor.
“Are you all right?” Emma Jane examined Mary as she arrived at the top of the porch.
“I’m fine.”
Emma Jane led Mary to a sitting room that looked too elegant and immaculate to hint that it had been full of people only hours before.
“I’ll ring for some tea.”
The absurdity of such a statement made Mary want to laugh, given that the clock in the hall said that it was two o’clock in the morning. Who would want tea at such an hour? But as Mary examined the lines on her friend’s face, she knew it was best to keep Emma Jane occupied and not focused on the fact that her new husband was in a burning building.
“We should send word to Frank, as well. I’m sure he’ll want to know Rose is safe.”
Mary forced herself to sit on one of the rather stiff-looking chairs. This perfect room was a far cry from the comfortable sitting room at the Lassiters’. Emma Jane looked equally uncomfortable in this space, taking a seat across from Mary with her old sour expression firmly planted on her face.
“Mr. Jackson has already seen to it.”
Stiff, formal. Like the old Emma Jane who was too prickly to approach.
“You call your father-in-law Mr. Jackson?”
Emma Jane sighed. “Mrs. Jackson requested I do so. I’m not yet family, it seems.”
Poor Emma Jane. “You married their son.”
“Who didn’t even stay until the reception was over.”
“I’m sorry.” Mary wasn’t sure what else to say, and her words hardly seemed sufficient to cover her guilt in allowing Jasper to be a part of Rose’s rescue.
Mary moved to the edge of her seat. “I should see to Rose.”
A maid bustled into the room with the requisite tea tray. Having spent some time working as a maid in Ohio to help support her family, Mary pitied the poor girl, who’d likely still have to be up at dawn to tend to her regular duties.
“That’s not necessary, miss,” the maid said, as she arranged the tray on a nearby table. “The doctor’s just arrived, and he’s asked for privacy. I’m to come get you when she’s able to have visitors.”
The Jacksons, it seemed, had everything in hand. And from the expression on Emma Jane’s face, this was going to be the rest of Emma Jane’s life. Emma Jane poured the tea and handed Mary a cup. She wanted to say that she didn’t want it, nor the sandwiches so nicely displayed upon the tray. But she found, as she took her first sip, that she was parched. She hadn’t had anything to drink since she’d gone in search of lemonade at the reception.
The reception seemed as if it had happened decades ago, not the mere hours that had passed. Emma Jane, too, had aged, turning back into her former self, filled with a resignation devoid of light.
Emma Jane asked about the events of the evening, and Mary recounted them as best as she could. “Mary!” Frank burst into the room. “I came as quickly as I could. Polly and Maddie remained at the house in case one of the children wakes, but Gertie has gone to the sickroom to see if she may be of assistance to Rose. You’re uninjured?”
Mary nodded slowly, realizing that if she had been injured, she wouldn’t have noticed. Upon reflection, her body felt tired, sore, but nothing that needed treatment. Except a deeply wounded heart.
Unfortunately, no salve for such things existed.
“How bad is the fire at The Pink Petticoat?”
Mary glanced at Emma Jane, not wishing to alarm her friend, but also knowing she couldn’t keep the truth from Frank, particularly when he might be of assistance.
“I don’t think there will be anything left. The smoke was terrible, and Will and Jasper went to rescue a man trapped under fallen beams.”
The horrible images flooded her mind again, especially as she recalled the people scrambling for the exits. “Those poor women,” Mary said, tears filling her eyes. “It’s our fault the place burned down. Rose and I only meant to start a small fire, enough to distract that terrible Ben, but something happened, and there was a loud noise, and suddenly the whole place was engulfed.”
Frank wrapped his arms around her. “It’s all right. The kerosene in one of the lamps must have ignited something flammable. I know you wouldn’t have intended to cause anyone harm.”
Though his comfort was reassuring, it wasn’t enough. Mel’s lifeless body clung to the inside of her memory like sticky goo. “Part of your ministry is helping those women. They’re going to need a place to stay. Can you help them?”
Helping them wasn’t the pastor’s responsibility. “That is to say, I would like to help you help them. I don’t approve of their lifestyle, but a wise woman taught me that many of those women are not in
