A Veiled Reflection (13 page)

She had to suppress a scream as she noted a lone figure standing in the darkness. The apparition stood as still as stone—arms raised toward heaven—feet slightly apart. Jillian watched in fascination, wondering who it might be. He stood just far enough in the shadows that she couldn't make out the person's identification, but as if sensing that someone was watching, the figure turned and walked toward the building.

Jillian could now see, much to her surprise, that the man was Little Sister's brother, Bear.

He glanced up at the window, and she knew that he could see her watching him. She thought to drop the shade back into place, but something held her fast to the spot. He considered her for only a moment before heading out of town in a dead run.

Breathing heavily, Jillian crept back into bed, certain now that sleep would be impossible. As she lay awake, tossing and turning, it suddenly dawned on her the reason for Bear's stance in the middle of the street. He had stood directly in front of the Indian Agent office, where Mr. Cooper kept his quarters upstairs. With this revelation, Jillian shuddered. What did it mean? Had Bear planned the demise of this man who had so greatly harmed his sister? Should Jillian tell someone what she had seen?

EIGHT

JILLIAN FOUND IT IMPOSSIBLE
to forget the image of Bear standing in the still of the night, the wind lightly blowing against his clothes and shoulder-length black hair, his hands raised heavenward. It gave her a chill whenever she thought of it, and she wondered if she should at least say something to someone. As the days passed, however, she gradually let the memory slip away, and by the time she received her third letter from home, announcing her mother's desire to send the earl to Pintan to meet Jillian, Bear was no more than a wisp of the past.

The earl has seen your picture and believes you to be exactly what he is
looking for in a wife,
Jillian read.
He is coming west to the Rocky Mountains
to hunt for elk and believes it would be no trouble to make his way to Pintan
.

Jillian nearly dropped the letter right there and then. Her mother was determined to see her married to the earl of wherever it was he hailed from. She sighed. When would she ever be free of her mother's meddling? She looked at the letter again. Why, her mother hadn't even made mention of how happy Jillian was in Pintan. Couldn't she understand that this new life suited her?

Taking up a pen and paper, Jillian hurried to send her mother a reply. There would be an eastbound train at one o'clock, and Jillian intended that letter to be on board.

Glancing at the time, she realized she would be expected to be downstairs helping with the westbound lunch train in fifteen minutes.

She hurried to the task at hand.

Dearest Mother,

Please do not send the earl to see me. The man I told you about, Dr.
MacCallister, has become most dear to me. He has become my best friend,
and I find that I can talk to him about most anything. He is kind and
considerate, and he makes me very happy. I know this will come as a
shock, and I truly meant no disrespect to you or Father, but we have
become engaged to be married.

Jillian looked at the words for a moment. A deep sense of dread and remorse washed over her. How could she tell such a terrible falsehood? She had already steeped herself in this deception of Judith's, and in a short time her contract would be up and she would be free to return home. Her parents would know the truth by then, for there would be no fiance
traveling with her, no husband to remain in Pintan to come back to. She sighed again. This web of deceit was only growing bigger. She thought of Mary's tale of Spider Woman and figured the Navajo deity could not have woven a bigger mess than Jillian had created for herself.

She hurried to complete the letter, stressing her deep love for Mac and adding that she had come to love the territory as well. As she reread the words, Jillian was struck with an overwhelming realization that the latter was true. She had come to love Arizona. The dry climate agreed with her, and the arid terrain appealed to her sense of beauty. She enjoyed the people, at least most of them, and for the first time in her life, she had true friends. Not just friends based on her social standing, but honest-to-goodness friends who liked her and sought out her company.

The revelation swept over her and from it sprang up a joy that was so real and tangible she could almost touch it. “I'm happy here,” she stated aloud. “I'm happy with Arizona and the Harvey House. I'm happy with my friendships, and I love Mary and Mac.”

Love Mac?
Where had that come from? She shook her head and pushed the thought aside. But then as she reread what she'd just written to her mother, she could feel the compelling truth of her words. Mac had become most dear to her. Even now she could imagine his laughing face when she closed her eyes.

She remembered an encounter she'd had with him the evening before when he'd come into the Harvey House. He'd sought her out, making sure she would be the one to serve him.

“I'd much rather talk with you than the others,” he confided. “In fact, why don't you plan to walk out with me after you're all finished in here? I haven't had a decent conversation all day.” He then beamed her a smile and a hopeful look of expectation.

His words had made her feel warm inside—his expression even more so. He always made her feel as if she were the most important person in the world.

“But love?” she questioned, letting the memory go. She looked at the letter again and shook her head.

Surely it was just a friendship type of love. Mac had never shown her so much as the slightest indication that he could feel romantically inclined toward her. He showed her friendship—that was all.

It was rumored that Mac had some great tragedy in his past love life and therefore had determined to spend his life as a bachelor. If there was any credence to the rumors, then Jillian knew there was little hope that he would take a liking to her. But on the other hand, she smiled wistfully, he treated her kindly and discussed matters quite openly with her.

Another memory crept in and took her back to one Sunday when Mac had sat alongside her in the pew at church. He seemed as comfortable with her as she was with him. At least it appeared that way, and perhaps . . . perhaps that could be grounds for the beginning of something more.

Shaking her head at her own silliness, Jillian heard the distant train whistle and knew her time was up. In fact, she was late. She stuffed the letter haphazardly into the envelope, scrawled her mother's name and address, and took the stairs at a run. She nearly mowed over poor Sam in her haste, thrusting the letter in his hand and breathlessly requesting he post it for her on the first train to Kansas City.

Smoothing her apron, she hurried into the dining room, caught Gwen's disapproving frown, and bowed her head. There were strict rules of convention in Mr. Harvey's establishment, and because of those rules, normal operations ran smoothly and without disruption. An entire dining room full of guests could be fed a four-course meal in under thirty minutes, all because of Mr. Harvey's meticulous order. It only took one, such as Jillian, to put a kink in the works.

Gwen came to Jillian's station, her face revealing her intention to discuss the matter. Jillian bit her lower lip and tried to think of something to say.

“Miss Danvers, I cannot abide you taking time away from your duties. I know there was a letter from home, and while I hope there were no bad tidings, you must know that leaving your station to deal with such a matter is uncalled for.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Jillian replied, realizing she had no defense. Gwen already knew what she had been about.

“Very well, don't let it happen again.”

With that, Gwen went off to the kitchen, and a clanging gong announced the arrival of the train passengers.

Jillian glanced around just as Kate came up to give her a brief pat on the shoulder. “Don't be frettin' none about Miss Carson. She needs ya too much to go a-firing ya. Besides, she likes ya better than just about anyone else here. Ya know it's always been that way.”

Jillian tried to nod, but the truth ate at her. How would Gwen feel about her once she learned that she wasn't Judith? “I suppose I know that,” she finally told Kate, “but there's no excuse for taking advantage of it. I shouldn't have left my station.”

Kate eyed her seriously for a moment. “Ya've changed, Judith. Ya didn't used to care about such things.”

“I am a different person,” Jillian admitted.

Kate nodded. “Aye, I'm supposin' ya are.”

Jillian didn't know if Kate really suspected her true identity, but it wouldn't have surprised her. Still, the Irishwoman seemed to be in no hurry to share her suspicions with anyone else.

The lunch crowd came and went, with Jillian making only minor mistakes. She served the wrong salad twice, spilled soup on the table, and broke one china plate when it slipped from her hands in the kitchen. When the eastbound train came through, slowing only long enough to snag the mailbag, Jillian was already stripping the tables in her station.

“Do you have a table for me?”

Jillian startled and dropped three crystal goblets, spilling the leftover contents out across the fine Irish linen tablecloth. The voice immediately took her back to the revelation of her letter.

“Oh, you gave me a start!” she exclaimed, trying to regain her composure.

“I didn't mean to,” Mac said apologetically.

Jillian then looked into his face. Captured by his gaze, she realized the truth . . . she had lost her heart.

This can't be happening!
she told herself.

She had fallen in love with Mac. And now that she knew it, Jillian suddenly felt quite shy around him. She quickly bowed her head and concentrated on cleaning up the mess she'd just made. “I know you meant no harm,” she said rather formally.

“So what's for lunch?” he asked, sitting at the next table over.

“We have beef tips picante, fried flounder, or curried lamb,” she replied, forcing her focus to remain on the table.
How could I have
fallen for him so easily?
she wondered. “Of course, there are other things. I could just bring you the menu and let you decide who you love.” She felt her cheeks grow hot. “I mean what you love . . . well . . . you know what I mean.”

Mac laughed. “You're in a queer state today. How many dishes did you break at lunch?”

Jillian straightened and glared at him. “I only broke one plate.”

He grinned. “I'm sure Mr. Harvey will be glad to hear that. You didn't douse anyone else in coffee, did you?”

Even as he spoke the words, Zack Matthews walked into the dining room. He immediately sought out Gwen, who blushed furiously when he presented her with a small collection of wild flowers.

“I'd say the good sheriff has taken an interest in your Miss Carson.”

Jillian felt a pang of something akin to jealousy. Matthews was openly showing his affection, and Gwen was happily, although shyly, accepting. In fact, Jillian knew that Gwen had received permission from the house manager to spend time away from the Harvey House in the company of Mr. Matthews.

“Are you feeling ill?” Mac asked softly.

Jillian turned to look at him. “What?” She let her gaze linger on his face. That proved to be a big mistake. Why was it that yesterday, when she hadn't realized her feelings for Mac, she could laugh and joke with him and look at him without feeling her skin go all goosey on her?

“It's just that you look like you're feeling ill. Maybe it's just the heat. I keep telling them that you Harvey Girls shouldn't be wearing black in the Arizona sun. Why can't Harvey dress you all in white?”

Jillian shook her head. “I'm sure I don't know.” She began to gather the dishes.

Turning to take her things into the kitchen, Mac called out after her, “Just bring me the beef tips and some vegetables. You know what I like.”

She nearly dropped the dishes again. His words rang in her head.
“You know what I like.”
She silently thought,
Oh, but you don't know what
I like
.

Feeling rather breathless, she deposited her dirty dishes in the sink, then turned to give Mac's order to the cook. Within a matter of a minute, a steaming order of beef tips sent an appealing aroma from Mr. Harvey's finest china. The cook had accompanied this with buttered red beets and creamed peas with pearl onions. Another plate, which contained several slices of bread, all different in flavor and appearance, was handed to Jillian.

By the time she headed through the kitchen door, Jillian's nerves were getting the best of her.
I'm in love with him. How can I endure
serving him without making a complete fool of myself?

When she arrived in the dining room, Kate was pouring his coffee.
Good,
she thought,
I won't have to stay any longer than to deposit this
food. Mac will have to understand that I have work to do
.