A FATHER'S RESCUE
Chapter Thirteen
Mrs. Wallace returned to the building, just
hoping Frances was home. She was her main listener for her tidbits of news.
True, otherwise Mrs. Wallace didn't much care for the woman's habits and such,
but as an audience she was ideal.
Therefore, the landlady could barely contain
her smile when she found Frances in the kitchen, having a late lunch. She heard
sounds from upstairs, assumed it was Michael working on a project, and knew
they would not have to worry about him overhearing.
"Frances, you'll never guess what I
heard from David today!" The landlady was nearly gushing, and Frances
looked up with just the expression she was hoping for.
"What was it?"
"Rose woke up today while Michael was at
the hospital. She heard us talking. David said she was convinced the man is her
father."
It took a lot to surprise the cynical
Frances, but upon hearing this meaty tidbit her mouth fell open in shock.
"You mean her highness may be common folk after all?"
"Maybe," Mrs. Wallace cautioned.
"We don't know that for sure. Her fever just broke this afternoon; for all
I know she could still have been hearing things."
"That doesn't matter." Frances
leaned forward, a nasty gleam in her eyes. "Do you realize the opportunity
we have here? Now we can get some information about the little snob."
The other woman only looked befuddled.
"Listen," Frances explained in a conspiratorial voice. "We both
know she's hiding something. You even said as much. Now a stranger shows up at
our door, and she hears his voice and claims he's her father. Why hasn't either
one mentioned the other before? I'll tell you why. Maybe he's what she's
running from. And he knows she's here, but he's waiting for her to get well
before surprising her. That's why he followed you to the hospital, to get a
peek and make sure it was really Rose in there."
She sat back in her chair, smug and
self-confident. Mrs. Wallace wanted to wipe the smile off her face. How could
she say that kind gentleman would be someone his own daughter would hide from?
But the more she considered the possibility, the more she had to agree with one
thing: Rose was hiding something.
"Well, I still don't see how this is an
opportunity for us," she said slowly.
"Think about it. We can confront Rose
with her secret, and offer to send her father away. For a price, of
course."
"I will do no such thing!" Mrs.
Wallace cried, horrified.
"Fine. I'll go it alone," Frances
said, and left the kitchen.
Mrs. Wallace was left to worry over what
Frances might do. The only immediate help to this that she could see was to
talk to Michael, tell him what she knew, and see what he had to say.
She called him down from the upstairs,
invited him into the parlor, then quickly thought of how to begin a
conversation.
"I'm sorry to interrupt your work,
Michael. I'm glad you'll be doing it for me. But right now, there is something
I need to talk to you about."
"What is it, ma'am?"
"I know you heard, from visiting me
today, that one of my tenants is in the hospital. David spent some time with
her today, and he says that while you were there, she reacted quite strongly.
She says she thinks you...you are her father. Could that be possible?"
"I...I do have a daughter, yes. But I
haven't seen her in a long time."
"Well, the place to start is with the
name. What is your daughter's?"
"Rose," Michael answered
immediately.
Mrs. Wallace nodded. "What does she look
like?"
"Beautiful." His eyes took on a
faraway look, and to her surprise a boyish smile spread across his features.
"She was tall, graceful, with blue eyes, like mine. And flaming red
hair."
Mrs. Wallace nodded again. It had to be the
same girl. Which meant that what Frances said had to be true. Which meant that
Rose, for whatever strange reason, had fled this man's home. And now she had
opened her home to him, even revealed his daughter's whereabouts.
What have I done? she thought.