The Stranger's Secrets Read online

  The STRANGER’S SECRETS

  The STRANGER’S SECRETS

  BETH WILLIAMSON

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  May 1863

  The smell of dirt and rotting vegetables filled the room, while the tang of fear coated her tongue. Sarah Spalding pushed herself into the corner, as far as she could, pushing past the cobwebs and insect carcasses. She ignored the whispery touch of the tiny feet as they scuttled over her in a panic.

  Her heart thundered in a crazy rhythm as she sucked in short gulps of the stale air. Footsteps, shouts, and crashes sounded from above her. They were destroying what was left of her home.

  Tears pricked her eyes as she imagined what they were breaking, destroying, or perhaps stealing. There went Father’s favorite pipe against the wall in the study, then Mother’s glass vase in the parlor. By the time they were done, there’d be nothing of her former life but the ghosts left behind.

  Sarah hugged her knees, pressing her face into them. She knew what would happen if they found her downstairs. Even if she was only seventeen years old, she was smart enough to know what drunken Yankees would do to a young girl hiding in the root cellar.

  When she heard her mother scream, Sarah had to bite her lip to keep her own from escaping. God only knew what they were doing to her. All the servants had abandoned them within a year after the war started. She and her mother, Vivian, were the only living souls on the Spalding Plantation.

  Now they may both end up as spirits haunting the very ground that had nurtured them.

  Sarah had no idea how long she hid in the cellar, but it was long enough that her legs began to cramp right along with her back and shoulders. She daren’t move, though, because even the slightest scrape might be overhead. As it was, the men could search the house and find her room, deduce there was another female in the house, and tear it apart looking for her.

  She fingered the hilt of the knife tucked into the sheath in her sleeve and vowed the first man to attack her would be the bloodiest. Her brother, Micah, had taught her a thing or two about defending herself. After he went off to war, she never went without that small knife he’d given her. She even kept it sharpened, just in case.

  There were no windows in the cellar; therefore, no light permeated except when the door was open. So when a flood of bright light splashed over the gloomy room, Sarah almost cried out in pain as her eyes stung from the sudden change. Yet she kept it in, swallowing the howl that threatened.

  “The door leads to a root cellar,” one man said as boots thunked on the top step. “And it’s dark as hell down here.”

  “There food?” another asked.

  “No, the vegetables are all gone. Without anyone to plant and harvest crops, we have no foodstuff to speak of.” Her mother’s voice was still as elegant as ever, but Sarah heard the underlying hate.

  “You ain’t lying, are ya?” The first one sounded cold and vicious. “’Cause I’m gonna go have me a look and if’n you were lying we might have to punish you.”

  “Go ahead and look. There’s nothing to see but empty barrels and crates and spiders.” Funny her mother didn’t sound worried about them finding Sarah. No, in fact, she sounded annoyed the man would question her honesty.

  “I’ll do that.” The boots came down the stairs slowly, giving Sarah ample time to panic.

  Sweat coated her face and ran down her back. The fear turned to terror as the unknown man made it to the bottom of the steps and walked straight toward the corner in which she hid. She prayed to God to help her, to save her.

  But He must’ve had better things to do that day.

  Sarah hid her face, trying desperately to keep herself from being seen, but the soldier must’ve guessed someone was down there. Either that, or he was very clever.

  “Lookee here, boys, we’ve got us a stowaway.”

  A hand clamped on her arm and dragged her out of the corner so fast she slammed her head into a beam, stunning her. He pulled her by the arm, her shoes digging into the hard-packed dirt on the cellar floor. It took her a few moments to catch her breath, and then she found the courage to fight back.

  With a snarl, she kicked her attacker in the knee, then pulled out the knife while he screeched in pain. When he went for her hair, she slashed at his hand. He hissed and released her arm.

  That was all the opportunity she needed.

  Sarah welcomed the rage pouring through her as she jumped to a crouch, knife in hand. She was fortunate to be wearing trousers, although it was against her mother’s wishes.

  “You little bitch.” Her attacker had dark whiskers and greasy, lank hair, and wore filthy clothes over his burgeoning belly. However, the one feature that struck her was his eyes. They were blue like the sky in winter and completely empty, as though he were dead inside. She tightened her grip on the knife and focused on him, truly afraid yet unwilling to let that fear rule her actions.

  When he lunged for her, Sarah knew she wasn’t fighting for her innocence anymore. She was fighting for her life.

  Chapter One

  September 1875, Appleton, Virginia

  Sarah Spalding stood with her back to the room as the conversation went on behind her. At the bay window, she stared out into the blackness of the night, looking for an answer, yet it wasn’t forthcoming. Her friends were arguing about whether or not she should close the boardinghouse while she was gone. As if she wasn’t going to come back, a fact they couldn’t yet know.

  After ten minutes of listening to the bickering, she turned around. They all stopped and watched as she lit a cigarette, then took a puff.

  “Well, aren’t you going to say anything?” Vickie, her oldest friend and voice of her conscience, stood by the fireplace with a glass of whiskey in her hand.

  Sarah looked around at her friends and tried to memorize their faces. Vickie was a curvy, vivacious blonde with a big laugh and a bigger heart. Red and Doreen were the original boarders and considered Sarah their older sister and good friend. The three women meant more to her than any family she’d ever been fortunate or unfortunate to call her own. Their loyalty was unwavering and consistent.

  Lorenzo was the all-around guard at the boardinghouse, an Italian immigrant she’d found when he was a thirteen-year-old orphan eating scraps in an alley. At twenty, he was a handsome man. Unfortunately he’d decided Sarah was the woman for him, although she was too old for him. He’d had a constant melancholy expression on his face since she’d announced her intention to travel to Colorado to be reunited with her brother.

  Micah.

  She hadn’t seen her brother in so long, more than ten years. Not since she’d stitched up the wound in his face and he’d disappeared from her life. Micah had been a battered soldier with more ghosts in his eyes than she could count. His actions that day had added a few more.

  Now it seemed he’d settled in the wilds of Colorado and was getting married in less than a month’s time. His intended bride, Elizabeth, had wired her with an invitation to the wedding, as
a surprise for Micah. Now all Sarah had to do was figure out how to say good-bye to her friends and get on the train in the morning.

  Neither one would be easy.

  “What do you want me to say? It takes weeks to get to Colorado. Then I’m sure I’ll want to stay and visit with my brother. I have no idea when I’ll be back.” Sarah must’ve lied convincingly enough because they all looked like they believed her.

  What she hadn’t told them was she had no intention of coming back, ever. Sarah’s Boardinghouse was closing for good. It had been her anchor in a sea of tumult and uncertainty for many years, but the time had come for it to close. Coward that she was, she couldn’t tell her friends that she planned on staying in Colorado, away from the blood-soaked ground of Virginia, away from the nightmares that kept her from a full night’s sleep in more than ten years.

  Sarah pressed a fist against her stomach. She couldn’t remember a time when her stomach hadn’t been tied in knots. Time and circumstances hadn’t changed much, not enough to untie the Gordian knot she carried like a babe within her. It had become a part of her to the point where if she woke up one morning and it was gone, she would feel a loss.

  “I told you girls you can live here, but the rest of the women have to go. This is no longer a boardinghouse.”

  Red snickered, one titian curl bouncing against her alabaster cheek.

  Sarah scowled at her, cutting off the young woman’s mirth. “Just because I let you do whatever business you want in your bed doesn’t make me anything but a boardinghouse owner. I’ve never taken a cent from any of you except rent money.”

  “What about me?” Lorenzo’s deep voice had the lilt of his Italian upbringing, muted but still there.

  “I’m sure the girls will need someone to keep up the house if they decide to stay. You can sleep in your room in the carriage house, as always.” Sarah couldn’t turn him out. She couldn’t turn any of her friends out. This decision was hers to make, but she wanted to make their suffering as brief as possible. “Look, all of you, the only thing that changes are the women who come and go from here. You can live in this house as long as you like. Considering I don’t know when I’ll be back, it’s just closing the door for anyone else but you. Lorenzo will still be here to protect you.”

  Vickie came over and tried to throw her arm around Sarah’s shoulder, but there was an eight-inch difference in height and Vickie ended up just putting her hand on Sarah’s arm instead.

  “You’re too damn tall, Sarah,” she grumbled as she pushed her heavy blond curls back. “We’re not worried about the boardinghouse. The rest of them girls can go to hell and find themselves another bed to lie in. We’re worried about you.”

  Sarah couldn’t have been more surprised. “Me? Why are you worried about me?” She fingered the knife in her sleeve, its worn grip comforting. “I can take care of myself.”

  “You hired that bitch Mavis Ledbetter to be your companion, instead of asking one of us to go.” Vickie ticked off on her fingers as she added, “You’re closing the boardinghouse. You’ve packed everything you own, including those old books of your daddy’s. And you’ve been moping around here for a week since you got that goddamn telegram.”

  Sarah swallowed, realizing they knew she wasn’t coming back. “What are you saying, Vic?”

  “She’s saying we know you’re leaving for good.” Doreen, the youngest of the crew at twenty-two, had the looks of a doll with tight brown curls, a curvaceous little figure, and brown eyes with the longest lashes known to man.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “You brought life back into us. You saved us and you think we’re going to let you leave without being honest?” Red stood, her gaze hopeful. “Will you let us come with you?”

  Sarah hadn’t expected it and the question hit her with the force of a horse kick. They wanted to go with her? She was trying to close a chapter in her life that needed closing, yet the most treasured pages were trying to slip into her pocket for her new journey. Impossible.

  “First of all, none of you have money to buy a train ticket all the way to Colorado. Second, there’s no reason for any of you to change your lives for me. I love you all, but the answer is no.” Sarah prided herself on being able to tell the hard truths, even if her stupid heart prevented her from doing so on occasion.

  Of all of them, Vickie looked the most hurt. She pulled her hand away from Sarah’s arm and stepped back. Her lips were pressed together so tightly, they were white. “You’re leaving us behind on purpose.”

  Sarah shook her head. “No, I’m leaving me behind.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” Vickie picked up her glass from the table behind the sofa and slung back the rest of the amber liquid like a seasoned drinker.

  “I don’t know if I can explain it.” Sarah shook her head again. “Just know that I’m not leaving any of you behind. You’ll always be part of who I am. But I want to start again—can you understand that?”

  Deep in Vickie’s gaze, Sarah saw the truth. She understood, but that didn’t mean her friend was any less hurt.

  “If it was anyone but family, I might have to stop you from going.” Vickie’s voice had become huskier. “You’re breaking my heart, Sarah.” She held up one hand and walked from the room, her head held high.

  The other two girls followed, leaving Sarah alone with Lorenzo. The naked longing in his gaze made her throat close up. He was such a boy regardless of his age. Lorenzo hadn’t been exposed to the very worst life could offer, but Sarah had cut her teeth on it.

  “I will go with you, to protect you.” He offered a tremulous smile.

  Sarah shook her head. “I’m sorry, but the answer is still no. The girls need you, and will need you more when I’m not here. Take care of them, please.”

  He nodded, then left the room with one last mournful look. Sarah swallowed the curse that threatened to appear as she realized it would be her last evening at the boardinghouse. She was going to start over again, a clean slate in a new place where no one knew her or her past. Perhaps the opportunities there would be more plentiful than in a state still recovering from the ravages of war.

  Sarah might have prayed for good fortune on her journey and destination, but she’d long since given up on the practice. She made her own luck and her own way in life.

  The road to Colorado waited for her.

  In the soft lamplight of her room, Sarah packed the last of her things into her traveling bag. It wasn’t much, truth be told. She had lived simply for so long that possessions had become few and far between. The only indulgence was her father’s books. She’d hidden them from the Yankees and the bastards after the war who thought the house was theirs for the taking.

  One of her fondest and faintest memories was of him reading to her. He had a knack for becoming the characters as he read, keeping young Sarah enthralled. Yet he died right as the war began, leaving her and her mother to fend for themselves in a cruel, hostile world. The books reminded her of a different time, a different life.

  As she packed, a wave of melancholy washed over her. Sarah was leaving behind the house she grew up in, learned in, survived in and became a cynical nearly thirty-year-old woman in.

  It was past time to move on, and she knew it.

  “All packed up?”

  Vickie’s voice didn’t surprise Sarah. She turned to her friend and managed a small smile.

  “More than you know.” She sat and patted the bed.

  Sarah could tell Vickie was still hurt about her leaving, but there was nothing Sarah could or would change. Done was done and the time had come for her to leave.

  “Do you remember when I caught you stealing?” Sarah could picture Vickie eleven years earlier, a little sprite with barely a curve on her thirteen-year-old body.

  “I wasn’t stealing.” Vickie cleared her throat. “I was hungry, so I was only taking food to fill my belly.” She looked as though she almost believed it.

  Sarah burst out laughing the same time V
ickie did. The friends shared a moment of mirth before the mood reverted back to one of sad endings.

  “Of all the people in my life, I will miss you the most.” It wasn’t easy for Sarah to be emotional, even for her best friend. “You and I, we survived together. There isn’t a person in the world I am closer to than you. The good thing is, you are a survivor and life goes on. Perhaps with me leaving you can find your own path instead of trailing along by my side getting caught up in my battles.”

  Full of too many emotions and in need of surcease from all the drama, Sarah squeezed Vickie’s hand. “Now let’s get these bags downstairs and have a drink.”

  Vickie looked at Sarah with so much sadness and even a hint of betrayal in her blue eyes. “I can’t imagine living here without you, Sarah.”

  Sarah waved her hand in dismissal. “You are the toughest person I know. Don’t get all sappy on me now. The sun will rise and you will still be alive and kicking.” She wasn’t about to accept her friend’s emotional well-being into her keeping.

  “I know you don’t like to talk about feelings and such, but I have to say this and then I’ll stop, I promise.” Vickie took a deep breath, the fabric of her blue dress straining against her ample endowments. “You saved my life twice. First when I was a child, hungry, scared, and confused. Then when I was on the edge of leaving life altogether. For that, I will always be grateful. Aside from that, you are my best friend, the one person I can tell my secrets to, and you were going to walk out of my life without saying good-bye. That hurt, a lot, and while I understand it, it’s going to take me time to forgive it.”

  Vickie knew exactly what to say to make Sarah regret her actions, as she damn sure did right then. The opportunity to start fresh had presented itself, and Sarah had jumped at the chance, regardless of anyone or anything else. Hurting Vickie had not been part of her thought process, but apparently she’d done more than hurt her—she’d damaged their friendship.