Rumors

Ramona scanned the lavish ballroom in search of Stephen. She doubted he would turn up after their row the night before.  He had been less than thrilled with her after their talk and she did not think he would be thrilled to be in her company and though she was furious with him, she still hoped beyond hope that he would turn up. She drummed her gloved fingers on the fine table she sat at and watched the dancers. They spun around in finely dressed clothing, creating a kaleidoscope of color. She longed to be out there, yet it would feel wrong standing up with any other man. A pent up sigh escaped her lips and she continued to watch the dancers, transfixed with their elegant beauty.

“Ramona?!” A high shrill voice rang across the room. That voice could only belong to one person. Squeezing her eyes tight, Ramona turned slowly in her seat to greet the voice’s owner with a ladylike smile.

Theresa Brooks stood before her. Her blond hair styled perfectly in the latest fashion, and a tight evening gown in rose pink clung to her delicate figure.

“Tess?”

“Oh Ramona Ramsey! I never in all my days thought I would see you in New York!” She exclaimed in her singsong voice. “What brings you here?”  

Ramona knew she could never reveal her true reasons for coming to New York, especially to Tess Brooks of all people. Tess was known to be a gossip and she was responsible for turning most of Boston society on its head.

“I am just here visiting with my beau.”

Tess’s high-pitched squeal echoed around the room as she sat next to Ramona.

“I didn’t know you had a beau! I mean there were rumors around Boston before I left, but so soon after that tragedy with William! Goodness Ramona! I never thought…”

“Yes well, he is a lovely man, not at all like William.” Ramona felt the need to defend Stephen, if only to Theresa Brooks. “Where is your husband?” Ramona asked, trying to steer the conversation away from Stephen.

Tess’s face fell a bit. Though she was a braggart, her husband, Edmund Brooks,  was an old bore. Ramona knew Tess had only married him for his vast fortune. But like any lady of society, Tess recovered early. She smiled and with a casual wave of her hand exclaimed “ Oh he is probably at the liquor cart. I am not supposed to be indulging in the stuff of late, as I am in a delicate condition.” She looked at Ramona with eyes that dared her to ask, but Ramona didn’t need to.

“You are with child?” She said, somewhat surprised. She knew Tess well enough to know that this “delicate condition” would not sit well with her. Tess was selfish and vain, not thinking of others before herself. But any new life was a joy to Ramona.

“When is the baby due?”

“Oh not till spring. I am dreading getting fat and ugly, but oh well. Edmund wanted the child so…” Her voice trailed off, and Ramona saw Tess lost in her own world. After a few moments of silence Tess spoke.

“Where is your beau Mona? I would so like to meet this lawyer of yours.”

Ramona raised her brow. “I never mentioned that Stephen was a lawyer. How did you know?”

Tess wove her hand again. “Oh rumors darling rumors.” She said with a giggle.

“Speaking of rumors, have you been in touch with Sarah Turner? I know she was a friend of yours at cotillion.”

Ramona could feel the heat rising up her neck. Tess was never the sort to ask a question without knowing the answer. She decided to be as vague as possible with this woman. The last thing Ramona wanted to do was and fuel to the fire.

“Of course.” She answered simply.

“Well there is talk that she did not conduct herself at all like a lady while at school.”

Ramona clasped her hands in her lap. She could feel her palms sweating under her silk gloves.

“I am not sure what you mean Tess, and besides, I am not one for gossip.” She said looking away.

“Oh yes dear I know. You have always been very prudish and boring that way. As I was saying, there is talk that she left Boston! Her mother went to the police and everything but know one knows where she is. Honestly if I slept with a Scottish lawyer’s son and found myself pregnant, I would leave town too.”

Ramona felt her hear stop at Tess’s words. How on earth could she know that of all things? How could Tess, of all people know Sarah’s darkest secret?

“What on earth are you talking about Tess?” Ramona said in a whisper.

“My goodness Ramona, I thought you of all people would know! All of Boston is talking about it!”

“I have not been home for sometime…” Ramona said, wishing she could become invisible. She was sure she was blushing.

“Tell me dear, have you ever come across an Eric Magathan?”

Ramona gaped at her, surely looking like a fish out of water.

“Ramona?”

Ramona looked up to find Stephen towering over her. Ramona breathed a sigh of relief.

“Stephen.” She said, tears brimming her eyes. She was happy beyond words to see him. He took her hand and kissed it, giving her a little squeeze before looking at Tess.

“I believe Ramona has forgotten her manners. I am Stephen.” He said with a slight bow in Tess’s direction.

Tess giggled girlishly. “Yes, she told me about you. I am Theresa Brooks, but please call me Tess. Everyone else does.”

Stephen gave Tess a warm smile. “A pleasure to meet you Tess. Would you mind if I stole Ramona away for a dance?”

“Oh of course not!” Tess exclaimed.

Ramona looked up at Stephen; hopeful he could sense her gratitude. As she rose, she smiled at Tess.

“I shall see you later Tess, it was a pleasure talking with you.”

Tess gave Ramona a cunning grin. “Yes indeed Mona, it has been.”

As Ramona and Stephen turned to leave, Tess called out.

“Stephen!” She exclaimed. “You never mentioned your sir name.”

“Magathan.” He said.

Ramona looked at Tess. There was something in her brown eyes she did not trust. Behind them were the eyes of someone who could cause a great deal of trouble. Tess knew. And how she knew Ramona could only guess, but by God she was going to find out.

Tess smiled up at Stephen. “It was a pleasure meeting you Mr. Magathan. I look forward to seeing you again soon.”

At that Stephen bowed his head, and lead Ramona to the dance floor.

             By the time the whiskey and brandy had been drunk, Tess helped her husband into their bed. He was drunk, and smelled like cigars. It made her stomach turn and she could feel the baby move in rejection to the smell. She smiled as she touched her hand to her belly. True she was not happy to be with child, but this child was special. This child held a secret, one she was keen to keep secret. Edmund let out a loud snore. Tess grimaced. She hated this stupid man. Slowly she rose from bed and walked to the writing desk. She had to tell him what she knew, so she began to write.

Dear Eric,

            They are here, please come at your earliest convenience.

All my love,

Tessie  

The Black Umbrella

Cold rain drenched Ramona through her clothing. Her skirt clung to her legs and strands of her red hair whipped her in the face as she ran. Her chest began to feel tight, not from running, but from an overwhelming pain that was gripping at her heart. She could not take the hospital any longer, so she had ran. Ran when the doctor told her the news, ran from her father’s arms, ran from the white walls into the grayness of Boston. She passed men and women, who protected under their umbrellas, made quizzical looks at her. She did not care. All she wanted was to run and never stop. Perhaps the past would stay in the hospital room, perhaps if she ran far enough she could keep it inside her. But as it is with emotions, the ache in her heart overwhelmed her and she collapsed, right down into the mud under a tall oak tree, and let a scream of turmoil and grief escape past her lips. Hot tears streamed down her cold cheeks and her body began to shake with uncontrollable sobs. Ramona raised her gloved hands to her face and rocked back and forth, back and forth.

Her mother was gone. Gone, forever. Never again would she play a song for her mother and see her blue eyes sparkle with delight. Never again would she be called “Mony”. How could she be gone? How could Ramona have let that man near her? How could she have loved him? William, with his lies, William with his rage, William with his lust. He had taken her mother from her. She had been so besought by his dark looks and gentlemanly ways she had never seen what he was capable of. She had been fooled by a very convincing actor. Her heart began to pound and blood of rage rushed through her body as another scream flew out of her before she could stop it. She did not care if she was being looked at, she did not care if all the rules of society were being broken. She had left them behind in that hospital room with her mother’s body.

God why did you let this happen? Why? She screamed in her head. She was so angry with God that she could almost not think straight. She leaned her head against the trunk of the tree and felt the cool rain add relief to her hot and angry face. Ramona was surprised that even in her anger she could hear the Lord say one word. Peace.

Peace. Goodness how she longed for it. Time passed, or did it? Ramona was not sure. She spent the time crying to God and waiting for his answers. Finally the peace she had looked for began to consume her and her sobs began to slow. When her crying stopped all together, she began to finally feel the shivers of cold creep up her spine. Slowly she got to her feet and opened her eyes for the first time, letting a raspy breath creep from her lips. She was freezing. At snails pace, Ramona turned her head to take in her surroundings. She was more than a block from the hospital. The walk back would be grueling in this rain. Her father was probably worried sick. Ramona sighed and began to walk back to the hospital, arms crossed, back hunched no resemblance of a lady of high society left in her appearance.

“Excuse me Miss” She heard a soft voice from behind her.

Shocked that someone was addressing her, she spun around to find a tall man with dark hair and green eyes looking at her from under the protection of his black umbrella.

“Are you alright?” He said looking her straight in the eyes. His abruptness took her by surprise and Ramona tilted her head in astonishment that someone would address her in this state. What could she say to this stranger?

“Oh no sir, I am fine. My mother just died at the hand of my fiancé and I just sat for God knows how long in the wet mud.” But instead of this, she made no reply but just looked at him. Hoping that he would find an answer in her eyes and leave her alone.

He looked back at her with a gaze that she had never before encountered, and nodded.

“Here,” he said as he handed her his umbrella. She took it from him not taking her eyes from his.  She began to make a murmur of protest but he held up his hand.

“You need this more than I. Can I walk you somewhere?”

Ramona shook her head, still shocked at this man’s generosity.

“Well then, “ He said (did she detect a small hint of a Scottish accent in his voice?) “You have a blessed day Miss.” And with that he walked away, leaving Ramona sheltered under his umbrella.She tried murmuring a "thank you" but nothing would come. He was already walking out of sight, rain glistening off his dark, curling locks. It wasn’t until she was on the steps of the hospital that she realized she had not even asked him his name. 

Indian Summer

The smell of ink filled Katherine’s head. Every day, in and out she sat at this desk, typing away. Three weeks had past since her last encounter with George. He had left this summer for a holiday with his wife and young son, which meant she had not seen him around the bank. She was happy for this, because there could be no awkward exchanges with him absent. Yet, though she hated to admit it, she missed him with every fiber of her being. How she longed to be wrapped around him in a plush bed in some distant room. Even at the thought of his smile and those hazel eyes she felt her head begging to spin. She needed air. This office was far too stuffy. She walked over to the window that sat just beyond her desk. Boston was becoming far to hot for her taste, even in early September the sun was beating down on the growing city. She forced the window open. Goodness, how long has it been since someone opened it? She looked at the window and saw little blotches of ink smeared on it. Glancing down at her hands she saw that they were covered in ink. She must have gotten it on her while typing the report. Closing her eyes, Katherine leaned against the wall next to the window. Far away, a door opens and closes. A voice makes a greeting to the new arrival. Someone says her name. Slowly she opens her eyes and sees George standing in front of her. The heat of the room begins to over power her. She cannot breathe. The floor seems to be getting closer and closer.

“Katherine?!” “Katie!”

Blank.

One Last Time

Katherine’s hair never stood the way she wanted it to. Her long dark hair hung straight and true, with no bounce or volume to it, not one curl. How she longed for curling hair. Wisps of her hair stuck out here and there, doing everything it could not to look polished. She sighed as she looked at herself in the mirror. Her white skin shone like a china dolls, and her blue eyes sparkled beneath heavily laden eyelashes. She leaned in, close to the mirror to pinch her cheeks to give them a bit of color.  Smiling she turned to leave the powder room for the lobby. She had always loved grand hotels, and this one was no exception. The lobby ceiling was high, and it gave the room a feel of openness. She looked around for the familiar head of curly hair, but could not find it. Disappointed she slumped down in the nearest chair. He had said he would be here. She glanced up at the clock on the lobby mantle, he was half an hour late, just then a deep voice came from behind her.

“Hello Katie May”

Katherine spun around in her chair, and there he stood.

“George” she sighed.

He grinned down at her from beneath his dark mustache and held out his hand to help her out of her chair. She took it, and it was like coming home. She beamed at him as she rose to her feet.

“We don’t have much time,” He whispered in her ear.

She pouted up at him “I know, you are late.” She said with a small hint of bitterness. In truth, she was happy for any time she had with him, regardless of how short.  She looked into his bright hazel eyes and saw the passion that lay beneath them. Her heart began to race. No matter how long they had been together, he still managed to take her breath away. Still holding her hand, George lead her up the stairs, down the hall, and finally to a small bedroom. There was no need to talk, not now. He closed the door behind them and moved to where she stood next to the plump bed.

“How long do we have?” She asked, as George began to unlace her dress.

“Long enough” He whispered against her neck. The hairs around the spot where he kissed stood on end, as a sigh escaped her lips.

“Oh George, it is never long enough.”

They lay in the rumpled bed as the afternoon light shone in through the curtains.  George was wrapped in the sheets and Katherine was as curled around him as she could be, her long hair spread out behind her. Her heart was still pounding in her ears. While they were together, everything was bliss. It was only in the short moments after that regret and shame would flood her. A lump was forming in her throat as she lay there with George, she had to shove the tears deep down inside her, and she could not show him how much she hurt.

“I have to go soon.” He said, his Scottish accent filling the room, and striking her to her very core.

“Does your wife know you are gone?”

“I am not sure, but it wont be long before she does. She is starting to ask questions Katie.”

Katherine grimaced. She knew that Mary would ask questions, because Tom was starting to as well.

“Tom is starting to ask questions too…”

She could feel George stiffen next to her. He hated Tom more that Katherine hated Mary. And, in truth he had cause.

George circled a spot on her arm, close to where he lay. It was still a little blue, she had hope he wouldn’t notice, but George always noticed.

“Did he do this to you?” He asked, very seriously.

Katherine looked away, careful not to look into those eyes, eyes that always found the truth.

“He is hurting you again Katherine!”

“No more than you are hurting me George!”

He looked at her in amazement. “I have never… I would never…”

“The wound you have done to my heart is just as bad, if not worse so do not pretend to be the better man.”

“I am a better man!” His accent was growing thicker, and louder. Red color was flooding through his pale skin.  Katherine sat up and got out of the bed, searching for her clothing that was scattered around the room. She could not cope with the overwhelming guilt that was starting to flood her.

“You cannot compare yourself to Tom.”

“Katherine he hits you! He cannot be a good man.”

“Oh? And you are so perfect? You who cheat on your wife?”

The blow had worked, just as she knew it would. George looked as if he had been slapped across the face.

“This is different…”

“This is no different.” She said cutting him off. “Every sin is equal in the eyes of God.”

George still tangled in the sheets, remained in the bed as Katherine dressed herself.

The silence between them was so tense she could scarce draw breath. The words to follow had to come had to be said.

“George, perhaps we are fooling ourselves.”

“What do you mean?”

“Every time we meet we end up having the same argument. I think that- that we cannot do this any more.”

George bolted upright.  “What?” He whispered.

Katherine turned to him, her shoulders angled back. She had to do this; the weight in her chest was too full.

“We are married. I think maybe Tom will leave me alone if he stops suspecting I am unfaithful. I need to protect myself, and my heart cannot take this anymore.” Tears were beginning to fill her eyes, and she turned away.  

“Katie, no. Please. I cannot loose you again.”

“You lost me George Ramsey the moment you married Mary.”

“Katie…”

“This is the last time I will meet with you. Good bye George.” She said, and before he could talk her into staying, she opened the door and ran right out of the hotel.

A Visitor

My Dearest Stephen,

My search for Sarah is not going well. I have been all over New England and still I cannot find one trace of her. I am starting to believe that she told me a lie about her going to Maine. I am also starting to believe that I will never find her, and I am not sure what frightens me more. As of now I am heading to New York, I think this is where she is, something I think I have known all along. Where else could she be so well concealed? My train should arrive at Grand Central sometime this evening. I am planning on staying at the Plaza Hotel; you know the one that opened a few years back? I know back when we said goodbye that I told you I wanted to do this alone, but I fear that I must abandon my pride and say that what I said then no longer applies. I miss you so very much. Please, my love, I need my port in the storm. Please come to me, joining me in New York my dearest friend. I will send you more details upon my arrival. I hope to see you soon.

All my love,

Ramona

Stephen felt a grin stretch across his face. She wanted him to join her! He was happy that she had had the experience of independence that she had needed, yet Stephen had missed Ramona with every breath he had taken since she had left Boston in search of her half-sister. He raced with boy like speed to find his trunk. He dove under his bed, and found it, coated in dust when the bell rang.

“Damn!” He swore as his head collided with the bed bottom. Emerging from beneath his bed, and covered in dust, Stephen nursed his bumped head. He heard the Butler answer the door below, but could not hear who was being greeted. Stephen lugged his trunk to the top of his bed, and began to hastily pile clothes into it. So emerged in his packing he did not hear the door to his room open, and was taken by surprise when out of the corner of his eye he saw a shape in the doorway. He jumped, making a yell of surprise and amazement when he saw his brother, Eric standing in his room.  Eric looked very much like Stephen. His hair was lighter, and he had gray eyes, but he was still sturdy and strong like all Scots men. He was dressed in travel clothes, and had his hands in his pockets.

“Eric?” He said, sounding more confused than jubilant. His last encounter with his brother had not gone well. Eric had stormed out of the house after an argument they had had about his studies and money. He had not seen his younger brother in months, nor had he any idea he was coming home to Boston, for they did not keep a correspondence.

“Hello Steve” Eric said, a tone of cockiness in his voice that Stephen loathed. He supposed the tone was due to the fact that Stephen, covered in dust and shirt un-tucked, looked a mess. Stephen squared his shoulders, and straightened up.

“What are you doing here, Eric?” He asked, bitterness clinging to every word. The euphoria that had held him captive with the reading of Ramona’s letter was evaporated, now all he felt was the pent up resentment towards his brother that had held him captive before he had met Ramona. Eric gave him a coy smile, and walked farther into the room.

“Mother wrote to me, and I have business with a… a friend of mine.”

Stephen took that to mean that Eric had some rendezvous with a woman he had met in college, that or worse.

“You know you are not welcome in this house.”

Eric smirked at him in response. “Mother told me to come, and this is her home.”

Anger boiled through Stephen’s veins. “You know as well as I that this is my home now, Father left it to me in the will.” Stephen saw Eric’s brows crinkle at this retort. He hated being the younger brother, and Stephen, always playing the role of the elder brother played off this hatred like a game. He knew it was childish to play off his brother’s childhood resentment, but at this moment he did not care. The minute Eric had taken his inheritance and abandoned his family; Stephen had all but counted his brother as dead.  It was taking every fiber of his being from beating Eric to a pulp where he stood.

“Where are you going?” Eric asked, looking at the trunk, overflowing with clothes.

“Not that it is any of your concern, but I have business in New York.”

“Oh?” said Eric, sounding amused. His tone perturbed Stephen to no end. He turned his back on his brother, attempting to continue packing.

“Out of curiosity Steve, would this “business” happen to include a Miss Ramona Ramsey and a Miss Sarah Turner?”

Ice flooded Stephen’s veins, as he quickly took control of his fear. He was a lawyer after all. He would put his education to use. Slowly he turned to look at Eric.

“What do you mean?”

Eric’s smirk reemerged on his face. “You know exactly what I mean. And there is no use in pretending you don’t know. You see I have had a letter from darling Sarah.”

And the cool disposition Stephen was trying to exude escaped him.

“You … you know Sarah?” He stammered. But how? When? None of this made any sense.  Eric walked over to Stephen’s dresser and picked up a baseball that had been sitting there. They had played catch with it years ago. Now his brother tossed it up and down, as if the ball was Stephen himself. “How do you know Sarah?” Stephen asked, trying to sound as assertive as possible.

 “In the biblical sense.” Eric replied, chuckling as he continued to toss the ball up and down. Stephen’s heart began to pound when it dawned on him what his brother meant. Stephen looked into Eric’s cool calculating gray eyes.  Regardless of how Eric knew Sarah, one thing concerned him above all else.

“How do you know about Ramona?”

Eric stopped tossing the baseball, and looked at his brother.  A grin as cold as his eyes spreading across his face.

“Oh Stephen, the question is not how I know what I know, but how much I do know. And more importantly, what information I have that can reunite you with your darling little ginger girl.”

“It seems we have much to discuss.” Stephen said through clenched teeth.

“It seems we do,” said Eric. And with that he placed the ball back on the dresser and exited the room. Stephen looked at his trunk, then at the ball, and finally at the door. Sighing and saying a silent prayer for strength, he followed 

Known and Unknown

The white stone seemed to shine in the grime of the city. Putting her shoulders back, just as her mother taught her, Ramona climbed the marble steps, hoping and praying she would find her sister within these doors.  

Reaching the top of the steps, Ramona was stretching her gloved hand towards the brass knob on the door when she heard her name.

“Ramona! Ramona!” Shivers bolted up her spine. Only one voice in the world could say her name like that. She spun around and there he stood.

“Stephen!?” She exclaimed with amazement. Tears filled her eyes and before she knew it she was running to him. She flung herself into his arms and held him tight. He was so solid and firm. Real. She inhaled his smell and looked up, searching for the familiar green gaze, and she found it. His eyes were sparkling and she noticed they were also a little damp from tears, yet a smile was spreading across his face.

“I have missed you so much!” She said her voice full of breathless delight.

He chuckled in response “And I you my love.” My love. Oh! He still loved her! It had been more than a month since she had last seen him. Since she had last been in his arms. Ramona had almost forgotten the warmth and safety that she had come to know there. She looked up into his green eyes again. She had expected him to come when she had asked in her last letter, but one thing puzzled her. New York had hundreds, goodness thousands, of people how did he find her here?

“How?” She asked, “How did you find me?”

Stephen bit his lip. It was a nervous habit of his. “It is a long story Mona. I would much rather tell it to you at your hotel.” She looked up at him with even more bewilderment. Stephen answered her look at once.

 “I know where Sarah is.” 

A Man's World

"Jim_MEY!"
"Damn!"  She had jumped so hard that her finger had slipped and now three "f's" resided in the center of her perfect typed copy."
"Best run, word has it that good ole' Charlies on the warpath and all the junior editors are in an extra pissy because of it."  She nodded and reminded herself not to simper- it had taken a good month for her to remember not to try to flirt her way out of trouble here.  She still had to pinch herself to remember to answer to "Jimmy;" on her very first day she had almost given herself away when she hadn't reacted with enough gusto to the questionable pictures of showgirls that one of the copy editors had provided.  Sighing she pulled the cover over her Underwood No. 5, her pride and joy and her only possession of any value.  When she had first moved to the city she had paid for it dearly; ruefully running her hand over her slowly returning brown locks she wondered what her friends and family would think if they could see her now.
The editors office was never a safe place for an aspiring reporter, you were twice as likely to get fired as you were to get words of praise.  Steeling herself she pushed in the door.
"About time, Mullen.  Sit."  She did, reminding herself to keep her legs spread wide and not cross her ankles as her cotillion teachers had once so forcefully instructed. 
"Now, I've read your latest article."  She kept her eyes on her knees, barely letting herself breath.
"And It's horse shit.  Mullen, you've got a good brain for prose but no one cares about this nonsense.  People want a REAL headline, Bobby Millers been writing up a piece on prizefighting and I'm fixing to run it on the front page."
"I'm sorry sir, I just thought-"
"Stop thinking!  I don't pay you to think, I pay you to write."  She sighed, inwardly.
"Yes sir."
"Now, I have an assignment for you, something that people really do want to read about.  Some society lady from Boston is in town and she's throwing a charity ball down at the Metropolitan Art Museum, go see if you can chat her up, get her story.  Shouldn't be too hard of a job, pretty ladies, plenty to eat-after the shit you send me I shouldn't be rewarding you like this."  She nodded, rising and brushing her trouser legs off as she did.
"Saturday night, nine pm.  Oh, and Jimmy?  Don't give me any more of this shit."  He slapped her article into her chest and she turned, letting the door close behind her.
Back at her desk she slid the rejected article into her bag.  "Hundreds of Women Assaulted by British Police in Brutal Attack against Peaceful Protesters."  Her British brethren would have to wait.  Silently she cursed whatever Bostonian aristocrat was making her leave her impassioned writing for a night of silly talk and town gossip.  Reaching her hand into her pocket she let her fingers graze the black velvet box that she had taken to carrying with her.  Timothy no doubt had given up the ring for lost, along with his would be betrothed- but somehow by holding the ring she felt closer to him and closer to home. 
Though she hated to admit it, Sarah was just a little bit homesick. 

One Step Closer

Ramona bustled around the crowded streets of New York. She had been here a week, and still she could not grow accustomed to the amount of people that lived here. Where did they all come from? There did not seem to be enough buildings to house all of them, yet still they came ever pushing and shoving onto the busy street. Every time she stepped off the front steps of The Plaza, she felt as if she were taking a plunge into the sea, yet this sea was made up of bright colors, and at times just as unforgiving as the water.

Today, Ramona was sure she would make progress. She could feel it in her bones. Her eyes fell to the address she had scribbled in haste. Why was it she could never read her own handwriting? One Times Square, 1475 Broadway was her destination.  Ramona felt the crowd jostle her to and fro as she made her way to Broadway. In no time she was there. Standing in front of the New York Times building. The white stone seemed to shine in the grime of the city. Putting her shoulders back, just as her mother taught her, Ramona climbed the marble steps, hoping and praying she would find her sister within these doors.  

Clues

Rain streaked the windows of the rolling train. Ramona watched as the raindrops blend together in a watery blur. She leaded her cheek on the cool glass, and the heat from her breath created fog on the icy window. For it being summer, the weather outside was unbearably bleak. Sarah’s letter lay crumpled in Ramona’s gloved hand. She had read it so many times she feared that the ink would soon disappear from the page. Her search in New England had not been productive. She had worn herself almost thin looking for her lost friend.  If she did not find Sarah at the next location she would abandon her search.  Ramona’s mind flickered back to a night, like this, when she and Sarah had curled up on Sarah’s bed to talk about the future. Sarah had gone on and on about being a writer. It was that night that she had shown Ramona her works under her pen name James Mullen.

Ramona bolted upright. James Mullen. Her mind raced with a swirl of uncontrollable thoughts. She un- crumpled the paper and found the line she had look at so many times:

Where I go, I shall no longer be Sarah Turner.

It all fit! She knew where to look now, though it would not be easy...   

Ramona could hear the echo of Sarah’s lark sounding voice, “One of these days I am going to New York. I will show the world that a woman can write just as well as a man. And you will come with me, wont you Mona?” 

New York! Ramona’s mind wheeled and turned, then the jubilation came to a startling halt. New York was one of the larges cities in the country, far bigger than Boston. How in the world was Ramona going to find Sarah in that city?

Father, she prayed, how am I going to find her? How?  Then it came to her from the dark shadows of her memory. A newspaper. Sarah had to be at a newspaper, and Ramona was going to search every single one till she found her friend. 

A Port in a Storm

Tears streamed down Ramona’s face as she lay on her bed. The afternoon light was shinning in her yellow room, far to bright for her discomfort. Her chest ached as she pictured the look in Sarah’s eyes when she had confessed the “truth”. The letter Sarah had sent her lay wrinkled at her side. Ramona’s eyes found the paper and she held it before her, blinking it into focus.  

And now, my darling Mona, I shall not tell you where I am going, except that it is not to Maine. I may once have been pregnant, but now I am utterly without child again. Where I go, I shall no longer be Sarah Turner.

And that was her biggest clue of all. Slowly she got to her feet and searched around for her old hat box and found it on a shelf in her wardrobe. She had not touched it since her mother had died and a thin layer of dust covered the faded pink lid. Lifting the lid she found dozens of folded pieces of paper. Each one had a prayer scribbled on it. It was her prayer box. Every time she had a prayer she would write it down on paper, date it, then toss it in the box. Once the paper was in the box it was in the Lord’s hands.  Ramona carried the box to her writing desk scribbled a prayer on to a fresh piece of paper, dated it, and placed it softly in the box. She put the lid back on then looked around the room. Relief and peace flooded through her veins as she walked back to her wardrobe. She removed simple clothing, a few blouses and skirts, and folded them neatly into her carpet bag. Ramona shrugged on her light blue travel jacked and was tying the ribbons of her hat under her chin when a knock came on the door.

“Yes?” she said, and Gerald opened the door.

“Madame, Mr. Magathan is here.”

Ramona felt hot color flood to her face. How could she have forgotten about Stephen?

“Um… Tell him I will be down in a moment Gerald.” He bowed his head and exited the room. 

Ramona paced the room for a few moments, thinking about what to tell him, then with a deep breath she gathered up her bag and went down the stairs to the Parlor.

Stephen was standing with his back to her, examining a painting of a garden that hung on the wall. His dark locks shown in the sun that streamed in  through the parlor window. Her breath caught in her chest at the sight of him. She wanted to run to him, and it took all of her will power not to.

“Hello, Stephen.” She said.  He spun around and smiled at her. Oh that smile.  Ramona felt her knees beginning to shake. She smiled back at him, but weakly.  His smile faded a little.

“Were are you going?”

Ramona thought for a moment. She could not lie to him, whatever Sarah had said. She would not tell him everything but she could not lie to him.

“I need to go find Sarah. She is in trouble and I cannot leave her alone, she needs me.”

Stephen raised an eyebrow. “What sort of trouble?”

“I cannot tell you, I promised not to tell.”

He nodded solemnly. She knew he did not understand.

“Stephen, I don’t like keeping things from you… But you must know that I would tell you if I could.”

“Mona dear, you do not need to explain anything to me. “ He walked over to her and put his arms around her, holding her tight. She melted into his arms and for a moment time stood still.

“Can you give me an idea of where you are going? “ he whispered into her hair. “I must admit that I don’t like the idea of you traveling alone.” Ramona looked up into his light green eyes and saw that he was truly worried. Her stomach flipped as she realized this.

“Do not worry Stephen, I will be fine. I have prayed about this and know it is what I have to do.”

He sighed and nodded. She knew he would understand in time, but she did not know how much more time they would have. He needed to understand now. She was tired of lies. He had to know.

“Ste” she said (her new nickname for him) “I know my friendship with Sarah does not make any sense to you, but you need to know that she is not just my friend, but my sister.” He raised his eyebrows again. “Well yes dear, figuratively.”

Ramona shook her head. “No not figuratively. She IS my sister, though only half blood. She is my father’s daughter.”

“What?” he whispered.

Ramona sighed. “I don’t know if Sarah knows, I don’t think she does, but I discovered this only a few weeks ago. I was going through some of my mother’s things and found a box buried in the attic. It had letters in it dating back almost twenty years ago.  They were love letters, they were not to my mother, but to my father. And they were signed from Katherine Turner.”  

Stephen’s eyes widened as Ramona spoke, and she knew he was trying to sort all of this out in his legal working mind. She looked at the grandfather clock, time was running out, the train would be leaving soon.

“I am sorry I don’t have much time to explain everything, Ste.” She said taking his hand.  He looked down at her, and she noticed tears were on the brim of his eyes.  Her heart ached.

“Are you crying for me?” She said, placing her hand on his cheek.

“My heart mourns for you Mona. You have been through to much my love.”

“My love?” She whispered, softly, stammering over the last word.  

His ears turned a vibrant shade of red as he nodded.  Ramona’s heart pounded in her ears.

“I love you, Ramona.”  Their eyes met and Ramona could no longer feel the pain she had kept built up inside her for so long. Every thing that had happened with William did not matter. He was in her past, and now, she realized she wanted a new future, a future with Stephen.

“I Love you too.” She said as earnestly and passionately as she could. Tears were beginning to leak from her eyes again. Stephen reached up, and brushed them away with his finger. A large smile was stretched across his face and Ramona could not help but mirror it. 

He bent down and kissed her softly at first, then so full and deep that  Ramona  felt dizzy when they separated. Stephen held her tight for a long time until he spoke.

“Please let me come with you.”  He whispered. Ramona looked up at him and smiled weakly.

“Ste, I have never done anything on my own. I have never known much of the world outside of Boston.  I need to do this alone.  I need a chance to be an adult.” She was trying so hard not to cry. Why did she always get so emotional?

He was looking at her again, with that blazing look that sent shivers up her spine.  Oh how she loved him!

“Then go.” He said softly, his eyes full of tender warmth.  Ramona hugged him again.

“I will write when I get to where I am going.” She said looking up at him again. He nodded and took her hand slowly up to his lips and kissed it. 

“I will not stop praying for you till you are back here.”

“I will return, with or with out Sarah. I just need to know she is safe.”

He nodded again. “Stephen, please do not worry. If there is one thing I know how to do, it is persevere.” She stood on her toes and kissed him. Taking in everything that she could, from his smell to the feel of his hair. Out of breath, she bent down and gathered her things. Looking into his green gaze again, she smiled.

“I love you Stephen Magathan. You are my port in a storm.”

He smiled at her. “Be safe my love.” And with her heart aching, Ramona turned and left. 

Our Place

Bugs swarmed in the summer air as George Ramsey made his way to his destination. The twinkle of stars were barley visible through the rising buildings and glowing lights of Boston, yet he did his hardest to find them as he walked toward the park. The glitter of stars always comforted him, and George knew that tonight was going to be one of the nights that he needed the comfort. In his left hand he held, a now crumpled, piece of paper. On it were scribed only two words: our place. He had known what they meant and when to go there. The summer crickets chirped as he made his way deeper into the park, following a familiar path that lead to a wooden bench. The bench was occupied, as he knew it would be. He approached and the shadowy figure came into focus.

“Hello Katherine.” He said, and occupant on the bench jumped.

“George! You gave me a fright.”

“I am sorry Katie.” He said softly as he moved to sit next to her. In all his years of knowing Katherine she has still managed to keep her youthful beauty. Her brown hair was speckled with gray, but to him she would always be young. Yet tonight there was something different about her appearance. Her hands were clenched in her lap and she had, what appeared to be dark shadows under her eyes that she had tried to hide with ample amounts of makeup.

“I am happy you came.” she said, her voice quivering for a moment.

“You knew I would.” He said tenderly, taking her hand.  He looked up at Katherine and noticed tears streaming from her blue eyes.

“What is wrong Katie May?” He asked, calling her by her old pet name.

Sorrow filled her eyes and she began to cry. “It is Sarah, George.”

“Sarah?” He asked.

“Yes. She has run away, and Tom and I don’t know where she has gone.”

George sighed. Sarah had always been rebellious, bit this was not entirely expected.

“Does Ramona know where she has gone?” He heard Katherine ask through her sobs.

“I do not know. Ramona does not speak to me about her friends.”

“Oh George how can you be so cruel? You know they are more than friends…”

George pressed his lips together. He knew Katherine would bring this up again. All he wanted was to be with her, yet all she could talk about was Sarah.

Sarah. 

“What do you want me to do about it Katie?” He asked, somewhat frustrated.

 She looked up at him, her blue eyes shining with tears. “George,” she said softly “She is your daughter.

George let a deep sigh escape pass his lips. True, Sarah was his daughter, but an illegitimate one at that, and she did not know, at least not to his knowledge. Nor did Ramona, and he was going to keep it that way.

“Katherine I am not going chasing after that girl of yours. If she has gotten herself into trouble then I do not want Ramona’s name tainted by association.”

Katherine looked at him, stunned.

“Tainted by association!” She squeaked, “How dare you! You have never been there for her, not once.”

“Katherine, she is my bastard and nothing more. Besides she looks nothing like me. How can you know she is mine?”

“George she is just like you! She has your brown curling hair, and your pig headed stubbornness. She thinks like you do, always planning her next step. She has a mind, and she is intelligent.”

“Which is proof she is not Tom Turner’s child.” He said sarcastically. Thomas Turner was not known for his intellect. He had bounced around from job to job, leaving the family almost destitute. If it were not for the money George funneled into an account they would be reduced to paupers.

Katherine took his hand and squeezed it tightly, and he returned the pressure.  She had been his sweetheart when he first came to America. Katherine had been hired as a recording secretary for his new bank and they had grown close, first friends, then lovers. Yet Katherine came from nothing, and in turn had nothing. His parents had refused to let him marry her, and they promptly arranged a marriage with Mary Mahoney.  At first George had gone willingly to Mary, yet after their first child had been born she had begun to change. Mary became hysterical and he could not cope. That is when he found Katie again. She took him back, and they started a long lasting affair, an affair that produced a child. Sarah.

“Do you have any idea where she could be?” He asked, as tenderly as he could.

“Somewhere in New England.”  She said softly, and George nodded.

“I will see if Mona knows something.”

Katherine sighed and looked relieved at his words.

“I am not making any promises Katie, but I will try.”

“Thank you George.”

He leaned over and kissed her lightly on the lips, then rose to go.  As he left he heard muffled sobs echoing through the dark night. 

The Train

The rocky coast slipped away, and soon the train was swaying through the trees.  Sarah clutched the carpet bag to her chest.  She was alone in the compartment, her last companion had departed when the Ticketmaster had walked through the hall booming, "Hartford, Hartford, next stop Hartford!" Her traveling jacket was tight, so tight in fact that she had lost control again.  This time in front of Mona.  Damn it, she couldn't become a fainting filly, not now.  Her whole life she had despised women like that, but now that the time was so ripe she was slipping- and she must not falter.  The lying was getting easier now- especially when it was laced with truth.  It would be hours before Mona read her confession; if she knew her friend she would not be able to bear the thought of her predicament easily and would shy away from anything to do with it.  And what a confession. Closing her eyes, Sarah let herself drift off as the train gently rocked and swayed towards her clandestine destination. 

I am most sorry to lie to you. my dearest of friends.  I know that once you learn the truth-the whole truth- there is no hope for further friendship between us.  I will start then at the beginning...

The rain clings to Sarah's hair as she musters her last reserve of energy to heave her trunk over the threshold of the dormitory.  With a groan, the trunk lid gives way and white underthings spring out to sprawl across the wet tile. 
"Oh damn it all to hell!"  A snort from behind her, a young gentleman with grey eyes and an amused smirk stands up from the rocker he had been lounging in. 

 "Watch yourself, or you'll be out of here before you even begin.  Mrs. Mullen, your dorm mother- well they don't call her the dragon lady for nothing."

"I shall try to remember, thank you sir." Fighting to regain her composure is of no avail as a blush creeps slowly up her neck.  "I am Miss Turner, pleased to make your acquaintance." His eyes are playful as he bends over her hand with mock severity.

"My dear, you can pretend at propriety all you wish, but I know you for what you are-" Hoping her look is properly offended, Sarah hazards a smile.

"And pray tell what is that?"

"Why, you're just like me.  Incidentally, my name is Eric."

When I first met Eric, I was so swept off my guard; Mona he was  perfect.  We sat for hours and talked about nothing and everything-we danced and laughed and he had the world and my heart in his hands.  I suppose, in retrospect, he never lied.  He didn't tell me he loved me, he showed me- though in showing I suppose he lied with something beyond his words.  I am getting ahead of myself though.  That fall was perfect, and I lost track of my life, of my classes, of writing you. 

The hours are slipping away as the sun fades over notes, long forgotten in the crisp afternoon air.  Sarah's hair is down, and her eyes are sparkling. 

"And why shouldn't women have the right to vote?  Why, I recall on our last exam that my marks were a full ten points higher than Grant Beauford's, why should he have the right to decide who represents us all to the world?"  Eric is smiling; taking her chin in his hands he tilts her face up and kisses her freckles. 

"You are so charming when you're in one of your passions."  Sarah tosses her curls, impatiently. 

"You, Sir, are exactly the problem.  I am angry, not charming.  Mr. Magathan- Excuse me, what are you doing?  Stop it!  Kisses are not the answer!  Eric!"  Sarah dissolves into breathless laughter and allows his hands to stray to her lace jacket lapels.  In a moment, Eric pauses and meets her passionate blue eyes. 

"I like kissing you, Sarah."  He is almost shy, and for a second she sees not a confident man of the world but a shy adolescent. 

"I like kissing you too.  I trust you."  He smiles, and takes her in his arms once more.  She lets him more easily this time, allowing another wall to fall silently before his wandering fingers. 

The first time I let him love me was both beautiful and horrible.  After, he didn't kiss me or hold me.  In the dark, I wrapped my arms around myself and let the tears fall.  I think it must have left around one in the morning, he didn't wake.  I slipped back across campus, too overwhelmed to even worry about being caught after curfew.  Safe in my room, I resolved to throw myself into my work.  Three weeks later, I had an excellent class average and morning sickness.

"Sarah.  Sarah...Sarah.  Miss Turner?"  Shapes are moving around Sarah's head; somewhere something is clinking metallically.  "Pulse is steady Doctor, it might simply be a case of the female hysterics."  NO!

 Struggling against what seems like an endless current of nausea and blinding light, Sarah tries to slow her breathing, counting.  One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight...one, two three four...

"Doctor! She's awake!"  Footsteps clacking across tile and a white jacket comes into view. 

"There, there dear.  Now take this, yes there we go.  Gently."  A piece of cold metal in her mouth, and for a moment everything stills.  A hand brushes sweat from her hair and in a moment the metal is gone and someone is tisking.

"Her temperature is good, nurse I'm going to go call her dorm mother.  Sit with her for a while."  His shoes squeak and a door shuts.  The room is materializing now, Sarah can recognize the school's infirmary.  Closing her eyes she tries to remember how she came here.  A fly, a hot classroom.  Was that only this morning? 

"Oh, dear I'm so sorry."  Sarah tries to focus, the nurse has a kindly round face, and it's filled with concern. 

"What?  What's wrong with me?  Am I dying?  Where did he go...what is he going to do to me?" Her look is full of pity.

"The doctor doesn't know, but I recognize your condition.  You're pregnant, darling." 

The world is spinning again, but this time Sarah won't let it close in.  Fighting, she counts again.  One, two, fifty- she reaches a hundred before she feels safe opening her eyes.

"What do I do?  I was supposed to be a journalist, supposed to be serious- I never wanted to get married this young!"

"Oh, lovely!  He's proposed then?"

"Well no, but now he must, mustn't he?  With a sigh, the nurse turns down the covers and turns towards the door.

"I'll write down the name of a good doctor.  He's gentle, and he doesn't barely leave a scar."

I'm not proud of what comes next.  That doctor, I suppose he was gentler than most, and yet I have never felt more violated.  With any luck, he says, I'll still be able to bear children.  More children.  And now I have a scar on my belly and on my heart as well.  I made the mistake of telling Eric.  He hasn't spoken to me, except for one utterly unforgettable occurrence that still pains me to think of.  And now, my darling Mona, I shall not tell you where I am going, except that it is not to Maine.  I may once have been pregnant, but now I am utterly without child again.  Where I go, I shall no longer be Sarah Turner.  I will miss you, my oldest of friends.  I know Stephen will take the best care of you- else I would never leave.  Give my saddest regards to Timothy, tell him what you must to ensure he does not try to follow.  I have kept his ring as a keepsake of brighter times. Ever yours, Sarah.

The sky had long ago turned to velvety black, and Sarah slipped into the water car that adjoined her traveling car.  There was a small mirror, not much, but enough to wield a knife-her weapon of choice. 

Five minutes later, a young man knocked discreetly on Sarah's car and entered.  A trunk of women's clothing was overturned on the seat, deftly he went to it and fingers through the bustles and corsets, searching.  Plucking out her purse, he stashes it away in his breast pocket, safe.  Pulling out a letter and opening it, he reads, satisfied. 

"Mr Mullen, we are please to accept you as a junior editor at our paper.  Please use this letter as your form of reference and present yourself to One Times Square, 1475 Broadway at your earliest convenience."

Mr. Mullen's blue eyes spark, as he runs through his hand through his newly trimmed hair. 

"Grand Central Station, Grand Central Station, next stop Grand Central Station!"

The Prayer

Stephen sat in his office, surrounded by piles and piles of papers.  Legal documents were scattered to and fro and he was doing his hardest to concentrate on his work. He was supposed to be reading a lengthy contact reguarding Ramsey Bank, but every time his eyes found that name his mind would jump back to a red haired woman with hazel eyes.

It had been an absolute joy to see her enjoy the baseball game. Watching her take it all in was almost like watching a child.  Ramona had not had much of a childhood seeing that it had been lost in the shadows of her brother’s death and her mother’s insanity. He had wanted to give her a fun experience so she could forget about all her troubles for a day. He could tell that Ramona was haunted constantly by the ghosts of her past, and at times dark shadows would cross her bright eyes. He guessed that at those moments she was thinking about her mother. It made his heart ach when he saw how sad she would get.At times he had to stop himself from reaching out and holding her tight. He knew that the rules of society stated that the most he could do was hold her hand and steal a few kisses here and there, yet he wanted more than that. He wanted to hold her so that some of her worry would be given to him.  

He had never cared so much about another person in the world. As a young man, he had buried his head into books, working hard to get where he was, not caring about what happened on the way to success. Even his former fiancé, Caroline, had been a tool to get farther in life. When she had left him, his eyes had been opened to just how selfish he had been. Stephen had almost turned to drinking when a friend of his brought him to the church he attended. Stephen had not really wanted to attend a protestant church service, seeing as his family was Catholic, but it was there that he found what he had been looking for his whole life. 
 He found faith.
 And it was that faith in Christ that had softened his heart and opened his eyes. That had been a year and a half ago, and now he could not imagine his life without his faith.  Every Sunday Stephen would walk down the street to the tall steapled building, with fine stained glass, and friendly people. He had sat in that church hours, even at night when people had left and the streets of Boston were quiet, praying for his family and studying his Bible.

Stephen reached down into a drawer of his desk, and found the now worn leather book. His Bible had been given to him by members of the church and was beginning to fray a little. He carried that book with him almost everywhere, and when he had a spare moment he would take it out and read it.  In those pages he had discovered truth, and most importantly he had discovered love. When he had been courting Caroline he thought he had been in love with her, now he realized he had only lusted after her, not that he had ever acted on it.  She had never cared deeply for him either,  as their marriage had all but been arranged. 

He opened his Bible to 1 Corinthians 13, the chapter dedicated to love.  The chapter described the characteristics of love and what it means. It was one of his favorite passages, espicailly the last verse which read:

“And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love.”  He sat there for sometime, the contract now forgotten, reading the chapter and taking in every word. It was as if the words on the page were breathing new life into his very lungs, into his soul.  He bowed his head in prayer.

Father, you have given me so much in this world, so much that I have taken it for granted. You say in your word that love is the greatest of all things, and you demonstrated that for us when you sent your son to die on the cross. I know I have taken not only your love but the love of my family for granted, and I am asking you now Father, to please let me not make that same mistake again. Lord, you said in your word that it is not good for man to be alone, that we need someone to walk the road with us. Is Ramona the one I am meant to be with Lord? You know my heart, and so you know me, and you must know that I am falling in love with her. Is she the one?

He sat there in the silence of his office, waiting for a reply. He knew God did not always answer right away, but he would listen for the still small voice when it came. Not everyone heard the voice of the Lord, because people forgot to listen for it. But ever since he had been saved Stephen had listend and heard. Now he waited in the quiet of the room, waited till an answer finally came.

Yes.  

Chills shot threw his spine and a rush of absolute joy swam threw his veins. The Lord had given him an answer and he felt it in the depth of his soul. She was the one, the one who he would make a life with, the one he had been praying for.  

Truth

“Sarah!” Ramona screamed, as her friend fell to the floor.  She jumped from her seat and rushed to Sarah’s side. Ramona shook her, but Sarah would not wake. 

“Mrs. Wheeling!” Ramona shouted, and the stout housekeeper rushed into the room.

“Oh dear! What happened? “

“She fainted! Mrs. Wheeling do you have any smelling salts?”

“Yes, I will be back soon.” And she waddled, quickly from the room.  Despite the housekeeper’s old age, she returned to the parlor in record time. Ramona raised Sarah’s head and Mrs. Wheeling held the bottle of smelling salts under Sarah’s nose.

Gasping, Sarah awoke.

“What happened?” she asked, her voice faint.

“You fainted dear” Mrs. Wheeling replied. Sarah’s blue eyes blinked quickly, as if she were trying to process it all.

Slowly they helped her sit up. Sarah’s brown hair was beginning to tumble down her back, giving her a wild look.

“Is there anything we can get you?” Ramona asked.

“Some wine would be nice”

Mrs. Wheeling nodded and looked at Ramona.

 “I’ll stay with her, you go on.”  And the housekeeper left the room. 

Ramona looked at Sarah. Never in her life had she seen her friend so pale.

“Sarah what happened? We were talking and all of the sudden you hit the floor!”

Sarah was staring ahead, not even blinking.

“I have to go.” She said finally.

“Go, go where?”

Ramona heard indistinct mumbles picking out the words “my train” and “can’t stay.”

“Well you can stay, and you will stay! You just fainted and are in no state to travel.”

Sarah looked back at Ramon, a little color rising to her cheeks.

“You cannot tell me what to do in my own house!” Sarah stated, almost shrilly.

Ramona’s eyebrows flew to her hairline. “Oh, and when have you ever cared about the rules of society?”

Sarah’s brow wrinkled at this retort. Ramona knew that her friend was not used to taking orders from anyone.

“I have to go” Sarah now said, as firmly as she could.

Finally it dawned on Ramona what was going on “Sarah, what are you running from?”

Sarah looked at her, really looked at her, as if she were seeing Ramona for the first time.

“I don’t know what you are talking about”

“Oh don’t play coy with me Miss Turner. You run. It is what you do.” Ramona was astounded that it had never occurred to her before now, and she could feel the acid in her tone.

Sarah was now getting to her feet shakily; Ramona could tell she was angry.

“What are you running from?” Ramona was pleading now.

“Nothing of your concern.” Sarah replied sharply.

“Nothing of my concern? I am your friend! Of course it is my concern! Tell me what is wrong.”

Sarah was swaying a little, and Ramona caught her before she fell again. Holding tight to her friend, Ramona lead Sarah to one of the plump green chairs.  Sarah sat down slowly, holding her head. If Ramona had not seen Sarah’s lips moving, she would never have guessed that she spoke the words that escaped her lips.

“Timothy proposed.”

Ramona looked down at Sarah, her eyes wide.

“What?” she whispered.

“He proposed to me.”

Ramona crouched down next to the chair that her friend occupied. In truth she had been expecting this for some time now. Anyone who had seen Timmy with Sarah could tell that he was madly in love with her. It was only Sarah who pretended not to see. 

“So…” Ramona said, not sure what to say next. She did not think an “I told you so” would be proper.

“So I cannot marry him” Sarah said, and Ramona heard her voice quiver for a moment. It was odd to hear emotion like that in Sarah’s voice. Usually it was Ramona who got emotional.

“Why not?” she asked, guessing what the reply would be.

“Because I do not deserve him. He deserves someone better…”

“Oh Sarah…” Ramona sighed. For how anti-society Sarah was, she could keep secrets as well as any wealthy woman in Boston. Sarah may not have taken to curtsies or dancing at cotillion, but she had mastered the art of secrecy.

Ramona looked up at her friend, and searched her blue eyes for some form of the truth. But the blue eyes were blank and guarded.

“Sarah, you can tell me anything. You know that… don’t you?”

Sarah nodded in reply, but looked away.  Ramona was becoming furious. She hated when Sarah did this! All the secrets, it had to stop.

“Damn it Sarah, Tell me! What are you trying so hard to hide? What!?”

Sarah’s eyes widened again, her mouth hanging open a little. Ramona knew she was stunned that Ramona had cursed and yelled at her. Rarely did she ever loose her temper, but she had to do something to get Sarah’s attention, and it had worked.

 A moment passed before Sarah finally spoke.

“I have been with a man, Mona.”

Ramona closed her eyes, and she felt as if a knife had been stabbed into her belly.

“Meaning?”

Sarah looked at her with a look that said “Do I have to spell it out to you?”  And Ramona blushed.

“Oh…” she said in a small voice. She had not been expecting that, but Ramona had a dark feeling that it was about to get worse. This was just the tip of the ice burg.

“It was a man at school…  A man, whom you now have a connection with.” Ramona inhaled swiftly. They were getting to it now, the deep dark secret Sarah had been hiding.

“Would that man happen to be named Eric?” She asked, even though she knew the answer already. Sarah swallowed hard then she nodded.

Ramona could barley think. How could this have happened? How in the world could this have happened? How could Ramona be falling in love with Stephen, and Sarah and Eric? But she shook the thought from her head. Her mind was too pure to think those kinds of things. She could not even wrap her mind around the very thought of it.  She had to speak before her thoughts tumbled out of control.

“So you are leaving because of all of this?”

Sarah nodded again “What choice do I have?”

“What do you mean what choice do you have? You can stay here! No one need know about any of this.”

Sarah’s blue eyes met Ramona’s, they had a pitying look in them.

“Oh Mona. I wish I could have you innocence, but soon everyone will know my secret and I cannot stay and subject my parents to my shame.”

“But how will anyone know your secret? I mean who has cause to tell?”

Sarah was biting her lip, and Ramona could tell she was contemplating what to tell her next.

“You see Mona, it wont be easy for me to keep this kind of secret… You see it is one that will begin to show.”

The knife was stabbing Ramona in the stomach again. She had not heard right. No it could not be. Not that! Sarah stood up again, while Ramona was still sitting next to the green chair, to stunned to move.

“I have to go…”

Ramona looked up at her friend, and noticed that there were tears in the blue eyes.  Ramona got to her feet too.

“Where will you go?”

Sarah looked away.

“Please tell me! I swear I will not tell a living soul!”

“Maine.” And Sarah rummaged in her bag, pulling out a piece of paper with scribbles on it.

“This is the address. Mona, swear you will not tell anyone, especially Stephen. This is for your eyes only.”

Ramona took the paper and stuffed it in her pocket. Tears were now leaking down her face. She had lost her mother, her fiancé, and now her dearest friend just months apart. She could not bear it if Sarah left, but she knew there was no stopping her.

“Sarah, please be safe.”  And with those words Sarah walked over to Ramona and hugged her tight. 

“Goodbye, Mona” She said. And with that Sarah gathered her bag, and left the room before Ramona could finish blinking.