didn’t like her to quit so early, but . . . It wasn’t as if he could dock her pay. After nodding a goodbye to Michael, she tucked the shell pendant design into a pocket. Maybe her work ethic would stir later. For now, she needed to feel the movement of the horse beneath her, to breathe the warm beach air again.
Slipping out the back, she successfully avoided King . But with her first glance at the gold mare, all thoughts of the beach vanished. Someone had draped a frayed and filthy carpetbag over the sidesaddle. Shae looked around, in an attempt to find the owner. But not even a tramp lurked in the alley. Curious, she slipped the bag off the pommel and opened it. A puff of dust made her sneeze twice.
Inside, her fingers brushed what felt like crumbled leaves and then a small square of sewn fabric . When she drew it out, she thought it was some sort of jewelry bag. Something hard and heavy lent the cloth sack weight. How strange. Why would someone leave a piece of jewelry here, where anyone might take it? Intrigued, she loosened the drawstring and poured the contents into the palm of her right hand.
She stared unblinking at the object, her pounding heart the only part of her that dared to move . Tears sprang to her eyes, even faster than her mind’s denial.
No . It couldn’t be. It must have been the dust that choked her. This couldn’t be her mother’s cameo! Yet how could there be another such as this? With a trembling hand, she lifted it, allowing the golden chain to sparkle in the late afternoon sun. Despite a bit of grime, the necklace looked as beautiful as Shae remembered. The pendant’s rich, red-brown carnelian still reminded Shae of blood-bonds, hers to her mother, her mother’s to Ireland. Atop it, layers of creamy ivory depicted the profile of a woman’s head, her tresses curved around her as if with a breeze. A larger brass oval framed the portrait with delicate, intertwined shapes of leaves, flowers, grapes, and exquisite filigree. The quivering of Shae’s hand spread to her entire body. She was certain. Mother’s ! This had to be her Mother’s pendant after all!
Tears blurred the cameo’s outlines, then rolled freely down Shae’s face . Her heart threatened to pound its way through the confines of her chest. Breath came in ragged gulps. The only thing that Glennis took had been her jewelry. So had her mother sent this? Why now? Why at all?
With fingers that trembled until they, too, blurred in her vision, Shae reached into the carpetbag again . Desperately, she felt about the crumbling leaves until she brushed the uneven margin of torn paper. She lifted it, then wiped her eyes so she might read.
It’s not what you think . That was all. No signature, no words of explanation. Just five words scrawled across a torn, old strip of paper. Five words to change her life.
Shae flipped over the scrap and found its back side blank, then turned it again to be sure the words remained . Thin pen-strokes scuttled like crab legs across the fragment; the handwriting looked rushed. And vaguely familiar. Where had she seen it before this?
Might it be Lucius’s ? She tried to picture his script and decided it was possible. He’d had the opportunity as well. After all, he had been last to leave the shop. And he’d left under such wretched circumstances. But if he had held her mother’s cameo, surely he would have given it to her before. Wouldn’t he? Why would he have kept it until the day that he was fired?
Tucking the scrap inside the jewelry sack, she replaced it inside the frayed carpetbag, then untied and climbed aboard the horse . Nausea and confusion competed for attention. Her head ached as her thoughts began to spin out of control. She had to get away from here, to think in peace before her father spied her. Heaven only knew what he might say if he saw this. Heaven only knew how it might hurt him.
Is that what it was meant for ? Could it be a message to wound King? Or was it meant to comfort
Slipping out the back, she successfully avoided King . But with her first glance at the gold mare, all thoughts of the beach vanished. Someone had draped a frayed and filthy carpetbag over the sidesaddle. Shae looked around, in an attempt to find the owner. But not even a tramp lurked in the alley. Curious, she slipped the bag off the pommel and opened it. A puff of dust made her sneeze twice.
Inside, her fingers brushed what felt like crumbled leaves and then a small square of sewn fabric . When she drew it out, she thought it was some sort of jewelry bag. Something hard and heavy lent the cloth sack weight. How strange. Why would someone leave a piece of jewelry here, where anyone might take it? Intrigued, she loosened the drawstring and poured the contents into the palm of her right hand.
She stared unblinking at the object, her pounding heart the only part of her that dared to move . Tears sprang to her eyes, even faster than her mind’s denial.
No . It couldn’t be. It must have been the dust that choked her. This couldn’t be her mother’s cameo! Yet how could there be another such as this? With a trembling hand, she lifted it, allowing the golden chain to sparkle in the late afternoon sun. Despite a bit of grime, the necklace looked as beautiful as Shae remembered. The pendant’s rich, red-brown carnelian still reminded Shae of blood-bonds, hers to her mother, her mother’s to Ireland. Atop it, layers of creamy ivory depicted the profile of a woman’s head, her tresses curved around her as if with a breeze. A larger brass oval framed the portrait with delicate, intertwined shapes of leaves, flowers, grapes, and exquisite filigree. The quivering of Shae’s hand spread to her entire body. She was certain. Mother’s ! This had to be her Mother’s pendant after all!
Tears blurred the cameo’s outlines, then rolled freely down Shae’s face . Her heart threatened to pound its way through the confines of her chest. Breath came in ragged gulps. The only thing that Glennis took had been her jewelry. So had her mother sent this? Why now? Why at all?
With fingers that trembled until they, too, blurred in her vision, Shae reached into the carpetbag again . Desperately, she felt about the crumbling leaves until she brushed the uneven margin of torn paper. She lifted it, then wiped her eyes so she might read.
It’s not what you think . That was all. No signature, no words of explanation. Just five words scrawled across a torn, old strip of paper. Five words to change her life.
Shae flipped over the scrap and found its back side blank, then turned it again to be sure the words remained . Thin pen-strokes scuttled like crab legs across the fragment; the handwriting looked rushed. And vaguely familiar. Where had she seen it before this?
Might it be Lucius’s ? She tried to picture his script and decided it was possible. He’d had the opportunity as well. After all, he had been last to leave the shop. And he’d left under such wretched circumstances. But if he had held her mother’s cameo, surely he would have given it to her before. Wouldn’t he? Why would he have kept it until the day that he was fired?
Tucking the scrap inside the jewelry sack, she replaced it inside the frayed carpetbag, then untied and climbed aboard the horse . Nausea and confusion competed for attention. Her head ached as her thoughts began to spin out of control. She had to get away from here, to think in peace before her father spied her. Heaven only knew what he might say if he saw this. Heaven only knew how it might hurt him.
Is that what it was meant for ? Could it be a message to wound King? Or was it meant to comfort
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