A Light For My Love by Alexis Harrington Page B

leaned
toward her. "I know that, China. You've done enough already. Just
housing and feeding these men, seeing to their injuries and
sickness—I couldn't put a value on that."
    They sat in silence for a few moments. Then a
notion struck her. "Maybe we can ask for donations—you know, create
a boardinghouse fund, like a charity. There are a lot of people who
agree with you and the work you're doing. You could ask for
contributions from businesses and the sailors themselves. After
all, this is for their benefit."
    The league had received donations all along,
but sporadically, the way a street beggar collected pennies. The
money paid some of the printing costs for the leaflets Dalton
distributed, but not much more. A concerted effort, China thought.
That was what they needed.
    Dalton grinned suddenly and stood. He didn't
smile often, and she was glad that he harbored no anger toward her
for talking to Jake. "Good idea, China. That's why I need you—for
your good ideas and your brave heart. And you have been brave." He
put out his hand as though to touch her arm, then apparently
thought better of it.
    "I'd best be going. Until that house is
ready, I'll still have to bring men here. We'll just be as careful
as we've always been."
    They parted outside the door. Dalton slipped
away again into the misty night, and China made her way back to the
kitchen. Thankfully, no one was present when she came in; she was
relieved that her absence had gone unnoticed. She removed her shawl
and hung it by the stove. Then, remembering that she'd forgotten to
give Captain Meredith his medicine, she picked up a blue tonic
bottle. She left the kitchen and stopped in the hall to pluck a
spoon from a drawer in the china cabinet, then went in search of
the old man.
    Half a minute later, Jake walked in through
the same kitchen door and quietly closed it behind him. He was
cold, damp, and cross, but glad that he hadn't had to spend another
second in the rain waiting for China to come out of that goddamned
carriage house.
    *~*~*
    Late the next morning, China vigorously
pushed the carpet sweeper across the hall runner near the front
door. Navigating the awkward contraption into the front parlor, she
ran it over the deep pile of a blue Persian carpet, one of the few
in the house that she'd not yet sold. Finally stopping to rest, she
brushed off her skirt and sank into a velvet armchair by the cold
fireplace. She rested her elbows on the chair arms and glanced
around the elegant room. The front parlor didn't see much use
anymore—after all, except for one or two of Aunt Gert's friends,
they never had company these days. That was just as well. She'd had
to sell several pieces of furniture from this room, too, and now it
had an empty look about it. No matter how artfully she tried to
arrange the remaining pieces, the room was simply too big for its
contents.
    Still, China wasn't sorry that she'd decided
to keep this house. It was her anchor, an enduring constant in a
life that had changed so drastically she barely recognized it
anymore. But it was a big house and a lot of work to maintain. The
sweeping, mopping, and dusting never ended.
    Once she'd had only to direct a capable staff
to do both the heavy cleaning and the daily work. Young as she'd
been, she possessed a natural skill for running a large house. She
dressed in pastel ruffles and flounces and sat at her writing desk
in the back parlor answering correspondence, paying bills, or
planning teas and luncheons. Sometimes she did needlework, as did
all the proper young ladies in her circle, embroidering linens with
snowy monograms and delicate floral sprays for her burgeoning hope
chest.
    Now everyone in the house used the sheets and
towels—and Cap wiped his nose on the napkins—that she'd so
meticulously stitched and crocheted edgings for, once intended for
a different future. Money was too scarce to let perfectly good
linens sit yellowing on a shelf, layered with lavender sachet and
old