Because of Rebecca - By Leanne Tyler Page 0,45

soft butter color compliments your complexion.”

Ruth smiled. “Madame Monique made up my face and fixed my hair.”

“She did well.”

A knock sounded on the sliding wooden, glass paned door and the ticket master stuck his head inside the private side chamber. “Tickets please.”

Rebecca handed him their passage stubs and he glanced at them before he smiled and punched the tickets. “Changing trains in Grenada to Memphis. Enjoy your travels.” He nodded and closed the door before proceeding down the corridor.

Ruth let out a breath and smiled faintly at her once they were alone again. “Ain’t you scared?”

Rebecca nodded. “More than I can express in words. But let’s not think about it. We’ll be in Memphis in the morning and no one will be the wiser if all goes as planned.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Here, I brought something to help occupy our time.” She reached into her small valise and produced two hooks and two skeins of yarn. “I find crocheting relaxing.”

“M’ too, miss,” Ruth said, taking a hook and skein.

An awkward silence engulfed the chamber, but neither began a project. Rebecca couldn’t stop thinking about Jared, and she assumed Ruth was consumed with thoughts of her new home.

“Perhaps we should turn down the lamps and try to get some sleep after all if we can.”

She nodded.

Rebecca stood, turned the wicks down on both lamps, and settled herself in the corner. She pressed her cheek against the cool windowpane and watched as the dark night passed. Somewhere between the mingled tree limbs, the moon and stars, her thoughts returned to Jared and his proposal. She’d thought many times about what life they’d be able to build together once this mission was complete. Silently she prayed he’d understand her involvement with Rory, and the need for secrecy. Surely there would still be a possibility for them when she returned. If she returned.

****

The sound of a match striking flint and the smell of sulfur stung Jared’s nostrils. Sharp pain shot through the center of his head as he slowly opened his eyes to the blinding light shining in his face. Blinking, he held up a hand and shielded his eyes from the white light until he was more awake. His surroundings were foreign, but the fragrance that filled the air seemed familiar, strong and faintly exotic.

He sat up quickly. A little too quick. The room began to spin and he slumped back against the silken sheets, their coolness against his skin startling. “Where the hell am I?” he muttered to himself, not expecting an answer.

“Don’t you remember, honey?” a sultry voice spoke to him from across the room, and then the pungent scent of cigarette smoke assaulted his nose. Monique.

He recalled coming here looking for Rebecca because she’d been with his cousin.

“Rory!” Jared bellowed, pushing himself up off the bed. He landed on his feet and staggered toward the direction of the voice.

“How about a drink? Bite that dog that bit you last night to cure what’s ailing you, honey.” Monique caught him before he fell to the floor.

“What am I doing here? In your room?”

She laughed, helping him sink to a sitting position on a step leading to her doorway. “You and Rory tied one on last night, sugar. Don’t you remember? After the two of you beat the hell out of each other, you both drank until you passed out.”

“But I was on a bed?”

“I couldn’t very well let you boys sleep on the floor, now could I? Though I was tempted. Very tempted after the way you carried on. And over that little goody-good when you could have fought over me.”

Jared’s vision slowly cleared as she spoke and he saw the disheveled state of the room. Chairs lay on their sides, pillows were scattered everywhere, a few with stuffing coming from the sides. Pictures in pewter frames hung askance on the walls. He found her attitude toward what they’d done to the place peculiar. Of course, all the events of last night had been strange. He still didn’t know why Rebecca had come here in the first place.

He rubbed the back of his aching head, then his sore jaw and winced when he touched his cut lip. Looking down, he saw his hands were bruised, knuckles skinned. “Where’s Rory?”

“Having breakfast downstairs with the girls. Would you like to join him?”

Jared shook his head, but stopped as the room began to spin again from the sudden movement. “I don’t think I’d keep anything down.”

Monique laughed; patting him on the back then returned to