month on which she’d written the name. Her voice quivered. “The SS Governor was to leave three days after they arrived. Crossing the Atlantic is supposed to take two weeks. The ship was due to arrive at Liverpool two weeks ago, and then depart immediately for Rotterdam, where they were to take a river barge to Baden-Baden. If all had gone well, they would have arrived at the Kurhaus by now and the money would be en route back to me.”
Clare cleared her throat. “According to the telegram, the ship is two weeks overdue. When was the telegram sent?”
Noah picked it up again. He consulted the clock on the wall. “Early last night. The ship’s company office in New York sent it.”
Clare nodded glumly, hating how little the telegram told her. What had been done to find the steamship? Had other ships been told to look out for Governor on their journeys across the Atlantic? Maybe the ship had been found, and another telegram with good news was on its way to her.
“Anything could have happened,” Noah told her softly. “We don’t know for sure that they’re gone. Don’t think the worst yet.”
Clare pulled back her shoulders. Those kind words were meant to be a comfort, but they felt like a smothering cloud of smoke. She opened her desk’s bottom drawer, exposing her purse. “I need to tell the boys,” she muttered as she stood.
Her little brothers, Tim and Leo, were in school right now, but Clare could remove them for the day. Miss Thompson, their schoolteacher, would understand.
Noah jumped to his feet, stepping quickly sideways to block her exit from the back area of the Recording Office. Mr. Pooley, the other clerk who had been hovering close by, threw a fast look at him. “Don’t tell them yet,” Noah said.
Clare stopped, rolling her own gaze up to his handsome face. Tall and slim, yet as strong as braided wire, Noah Livingstone had a rancher’s frame with tanned features and clear blue eyes. In his day suit, he was a fine figure of a man. If it were any other circumstance, she’d revel in the thought of how close he stood to her. It would warm her the way a stovetop warmed milk pudding. He was everything she could admire in a man.
Clare blinked away the thought. She should be ashamed of herself for that disrespectful notion at such a time as this. Thankfully, Noah had been nothing but professional with her. Still, he was a man she could relish watching anytime, if she was given to such folly.
She gave herself a firm mental shake. Yes, it was a good thing that college had schooled such romance out of her. College, and her mentor, Miss Worth, had taught her that women needed to be strong at all times and independent to the core. There will come a day, Miss Worth often predicted, when women will have as many rights as men. It was time women earned those rights by setting aside simpering affections for the less fair sex.
Men. Boys. Her brothers. Clare’s heart sank. She had to tell them something. Every day, Leo asked about their mother.
Tears pricked her eyes as a difficult realization dawned on her. She was to be their mother and father now.
She’d always been honest with her brothers. Even when she was a mere teenager and was impatient with them, she’d never been anything but truthful toward them. Keeping this terrible news from them felt like a lie to her. No doubt, they would ask again about Mother and Father. It seemed pointless to avoid the inevitable.
They’d always challenged authority, more out of curiosity and love of life than impudence. She would have to tailor that trait now, tell them they were strong enough to handle the loss.
“Don’t tell your brothers anything yet,” Noah repeated quietly, leaning down and tipping his head to interrupt her thoughts. “Let this news sink in first.”
She shot him a fast look. “Wrong choice of words.”
A wry but sad smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. He nodded. “You’re right. I apologize. But think about it first. Their ship is only two weeks late. Anything could have happened.”
Her shoulders ached they were so tight. “My brothers deserve to know.”
“Yes, but not necessarily today,” he answered with a shake of his head. “Give yourself time to think about what you’re going to say. In fact, go on home.”
Clare took the moment to study him. Crystal blue eyes, framed by tanned skin and the tiniest of smile lines, more likely from the sun than any jocularity. Despite the reason for his proximity to her, she wanted that moment to last.
“Why should I go home?” she asked softly.
“You should take whatever time you need to get strong enough to tell them.”
Immediately, she bristled. Wasn’t she strong enough now? Again, her gaze fell on the bank’s letter on her desk. It lay there, wide-open for any and all to read, asking her to make an appointment to discuss the overdue payment.
Something clutched at her. Maybe she wasn’t strong enough. Maybe being a guardian to her brothers these past few weeks had drained her of the strength she would need to take on the role of parent. Tim and Leo were active and needed strong supervision and she would need to be at her best to handle them after they learned about their parents. What if Noah had seen that need where she hadn’t?
She snapped her eyes from the bank’s letter, hating how it reminded her of her troubles. But to lean forward and rip it from the desk as though it was a burning pot on a hot stove would call attention to the fact that the bank needed to see her, that its errand boy had hand-delivered the letter. No doubt, those around her would realize that her father had left her nothing with which to pay his bills.
And yet, Clare thought with a sigh, that news certainly didn’t surprise her. Her mother had often mentioned how her father tended to be flippant about money. Yes, he’d been busy with his work until Mother’s illness worsened so badly that he’d fussed over her incessantly. Her father had been more focused on her health than earning enough to cover their expenses. Late last year, he’d even let it slip that he’d started dipping into their savings.
Clare rubbed her forehead.
“Go home,” Noah told her, the words themselves firm though his tone stayed soft and gentle. “Do you need someone to go with you? I can send for the pastor’s wife. Or would you prefer I walk you home?”
Head still down, Clare stared at Noah’s boots. As usual, they shone. She knew he’d ridden in on his horse and had changed from his cowboy boots to these fine shiny ones. He had such attention to detail. His house was probably immaculate, too.
“Thank you, but no,” Clare answered with a brisk shake of her head. This morning, in her haste to round up her unruly brothers and send them off to school, she’d left their house looking as though a windstorm had barreled through it.
College hadn’t fully prepared her for the life she now faced. She’d taken good housekeeping courses, as all women at that college were required to take, but her studies had mostly focused on moral philosophy, English and geography, and as such, her marks reflected her interests. Good housekeeping hadn’t been her best subject.
Clare lifted her chin and leveled a stare at Noah Livingstone. If he felt she shouldn’t tell her brothers about their parents yet, then she certainly didn’t need to go home to wallow in the terrible news, either. “Nothing can be achieved at home.” Except cleaning it. “I wish to stay here and work.” She paused. “I need my salary.”
With
