Love on the Line - Deeanne Gist [83]
She helped Georgie to her feet. “Well, let’s get you to bed, then. But first, I need you to show me how to operate that switchboard out there.”
Georgie paused. “The switchboard? Why?”
“I told Jay I was staying the night, and while I’m here, there are a few phone calls I want to make.”
Yawning, she allowed Mrs. Patrick to guide her into the living area. She explained the basics, then fell into bed—corset, boots, and all. Memories immediately bombarded her. She forced aside the thought of being tied to the bed. Of being threatened. Of being freed from it. For now, all she wanted was to escape into blessed oblivion.
Chapter Twenty-Six
A yelp of fright escaped Georgie as a booming cannon awoke her.
Mrs. Patrick hurried into her bedroom. “It’s all right, little one. That’s just the Brenham Field Artillery announcing the opening of Maifest.”
The events of the night filled her again as thoroughly as sunlight filled her bedroom. She placed an arm over her eyes. “What time is it?”
“Almost nine. Luke’s been by once already with the float. I told him to take it to my house so Jay could hitch it up to our horse. But he’ll be back for you right soon. So get on up now and I’ll help you with your toilette.”
Pushing herself to a sitting position, Georgie immediately noted the empty hatboxes had been removed. On the door of her wardrobe hung Luke’s favorite gown of maroon with the epaulets and beaded fringe.
“Come on.” Mrs. Patrick helped her to her feet. “Let’s get you dressed.”
At some point, the woman had found time to change into a gold silk festival gown and to adorn her dark red hair with a stunning hat of tulle.
“You look gorgeous,” Georgie said, admiring the hat’s beaded net overlay with intricate embroidery.
“Thank you, dear.”
For the next forty minutes, Mrs. Patrick fussed over Georgie, helping her remove her wrinkled linsey-woolsey and underclothes, then replace them with fresh underpinnings before changing her bandages.
“Luke specifically requested you wear this.” Mrs. Patrick shook out the gown’s freshly brushed skirt. “It’s just the thing, I think. Its long sleeves and lace trim will keep your bandages well hidden.”
Without protest, Georgie allowed herself to be dressed, then guided to a chair Mrs. Patrick had brought in from the kitchen.
Laying her hands in her lap, Georgie closed her eyes, relishing the feel of having someone comb out her hair. She felt like a princess with a lady-in-waiting.
Humming a soft tune, Mrs. Patrick clamped some celluloid pins in her mouth. “What hat do you usually wear with this dress?”
Moisture filled her eyes. “They burned it.”
Mrs. Patrick paused, her gaze meeting Georgie’s in the mirror. “They burned it?”
“Yes. Every hat in the room was thrown into the fire.”
Sorrow tugged at her lips. “Well, I’ll fix your hair especially nice, then.”
She was as good as her word, arranging Georgie’s hair in an artful profusion of tucked-in curls. Stepping back, she admired her work. “Lovely. Now come outside. I have something to show you.”
Georgie assumed she wanted her to see the Mai tree, but Mrs. Patrick led her to the back porch instead of the front. The unmistakable chirping of baby birds pulled Georgie’s gaze to the starch box. Mr. Bluebird slipped inside just as the missus slipped out.
Euphoria filled her. The second set of eggs had hatched. She scanned the trees. The cardinals had yet to build their nest, but they were never very far. She could hear their vibrant, musical voices, but could only spot a flycatcher and two thrushes. A monarch butterfly lifted from the yellow buds of her sumac bush. It flitted to the side yard, passing an old farmer’s wagon, its bed filled with hatboxes.
She slipped her hand into Mrs. Patrick’s and squeezed. “You didn’t have to have a wagon brought around. I would’ve found some way to dispose of the boxes.”
A smile played at Mrs. Patrick’s lips. “Go look inside them.”
“What?”
“Go on.” She shooed Georgie with her hands. “Open them.”
She hesitated. Truth was, she didn’t want to. She had no desire to touch anything those men