BY:

MARCIA RICE FLEETWOOD

MARTHA SHEPHERD lay in her bed unable to close her eyes for sleep. She had heard the clock tower bells chime the hour as two o'clock. The nighttime thundering outside the cozy apartment brought the perfect end to a day filled with as much mystery as heartache. It seemed fitting...after all ...it was Halloween.

The jack-o'-lantern was still sitting with its candlelight invitation, though the time for tricks and treating were hours past being over. She had allowed the holiday decoration to continue its ghostly glow in hopes he would offer a comment when he decided to wander home.

Suddenly, the front door few open with a cold wet burst. The tiny light flickered its last flame. Her first thought was that she hadn't latched the door securely, however, her eyes focused on the Professor Harrison Wenteworth.

He was firm in his stand, his brow distorted by rage and soaked by the rain. He glared towards her. "If you think you can pretend to be asleep; so you won't have to face my questions...you are sadly mistaken!"

CHAPTER ONE

Mr. Henry Shepherd was a fine man, a pillar of strength to his church, his community, and to his three daughters. All of whom he had raised without the nurturing of their natural mother. His parental efforts, however, were aided by the presence of a governess, who came to their employ after years of countless others who hadn't stayed long, for one reason or another.

Though Mr. Shepherd and the governess, Miss Belinda Abernathy, behaved in a respectable manner, it was quite obvious to the girls they had a fondness for one another. The idea of their father and Miss Belinda was accepted, after all she was a kindly and familiar face who masterfully instilled moral virtue in three unsuspecting females--and had done so without a heavy hand.

Henry Shepherd was a wealthy and a handsome man who had made his money managing the payroll accounts of a Southern Indiana steel manufacturing company. He sported a thick head of salt and pepper hair with a broad handlebar mustache, that his girls favored in their toddler days.

When his little girls had grown into young women he was as much proud of their achievements and the quality of their character, as he was in himself for getting them there.

It was, however, much to his dismay, that Martha, the older of the daughters, had chosen a life of study and career as opposed to settling down with a husband to raise much desired grandchildren for his golden years. He considered it quite peculiar that she had no desire even to accept any of the many offers of social engagements by the city's most eligible young men. Her stunning beauty was unmatched by any other in comparison. She upheld an air of dignity and standoffish poise that was often mistaken as being just plain snobbish. Mr. Shepherd had rather believed Martha was simply 'shy.'

Martha Elouise Shepherd stood a lithe five feet, eight inches tall. Her posture and graceful stand quite becoming for a woman well past the age most girls opted as ideal to wed. Adding to her feminine charm was a thick mane of long

brown hair, sable in color, with highlights of dull red, that shone in the North Kentucky sun. Her deep brown eyes could be as haunting and as mysterious as her chosen future, yet, as gentle and as full of innocence and curiosity as a new born fawn.

He had taken to favor the belief that Martha's cool temper and quick wit were learned from what little instruction she had had of her mother. Young Martha was barely five years old when her mother passed. He also contributed her total disregard for the idea of family life as a future because hers had been so unjustly ripped away at an early age.

His younger girls were twins, and more of a handful than he had ever expected--for girls. Also for the fact that their oft-times unlady like and mischievous behavior followed the more placid, gentle character, as that of their older sibling.

Kay and Faye Ann, respectively, had more of a lust for adventure and a passion for the excitement of life. Perhaps, for the fact that their birth was the death of their mother. They excelled in sports and in getting themselves into foolish trouble with Mrs. T. Kirkland-Hines, at the Hine's Finishing School for Girls.

Kay and Faye Ann were never, it seemed, without the company of friends. Nor were they ever without the company of a gentleman companion--or two. Requiring for,rather demanding for, their young suitors to shower them with the expected trinkets of candy and flowers when the came to the house to call. Most often their dates for the evening would be selected by the elaborate gifts of such sentiment.

The girls tended never to fuss or to argue, as was the common household rule, for which it almost never had to be reminded--excepting for the subject of marriage.

Mr. Shepherd was fastened to his father's rule; that his daughter's marry in the order of their birth, as was the custom when he was a youth.

Kay had, at one time, chosen a fiancee', but soon became bored with the idea of having to wait on Martha. It was quite obvious he older sister had no intentions of yielding to her family's pressure, or to the attitudes of society. Her calling was for an independent life-style, doing some purposeful work for the benefit of mankind. A calling for which her father adamantly respected, nearly as much as he disapproved of.

It was with much reluctance, Henry Shepherd finally agreed that Martha was exempt from the marriage custom, providing she honestly and actively pursued a course of study--for which he would finance. After all...it was to his thinking...surely her college expenses couldn't match the cost of a fancy and elaborate wedding and dowry.

With all reasoning of his savings set aside, perhaps, she would change her mind once the reality of the hard work ahead of her had set in, thus making the less worldly challenging idea of marriage more appealing to her. And who knew what the future might hold? His daughter would be going to a new environment, meeting new acquaintances; surely even the most particular of women could find a favorable beau, with shared interests. One, of course, with more worldly wisdom then the choice of common gentlemen from her home town.

When the announcement was made, and his decision finalized, it was met with cheers of joy from the twins, as well as from Martha. To her father's surprise, his oldest girl had already inquired of and had arranged a plan for a preview visit at a State College in nearby Indiana.

He was relieved to learn that her chosen college in the Ohio River Valley was near enough for frequent family visits,however,it was too far to travel daily,making the consideration of her taking an apartment a necessity.

The thought of his girls growing up was one thing, but leaving home was heartfelt by a man who adored them, and had given them whatever common thing he could to assure their comfort and their happiness.

They were not, by far, the richest family in Elvington, Kentucky--but rather, lived more comfortably than others.

Their home was a two-story classical colonial, that was built in the 1880's. It had aged with character over the next thirty-five years, accepting with dignity the additions of electric, telephone, and natural gas; though some modifications were necessary with the introduction of an indoor flushable toilet.

The house was as elaborate as it was practical, with its graciously inviting porch wrapped around the entire front and one side, lending charm to the Sunday afternoon social events the twins would have when the weather was warm. It was also a private oasis for a lazy Summer's day rest--spent rocking in one of the three heavily varnished gliders.

The gliders were hidden from view of the street by a curtain of veiling sweet pea vines and lady ferns. No Kentucky yard would be complete without the landscaping of dogwood trees, forsythia, mock orange,and, of course,the beds of colorful flora; of which were tended lovingly by the hands of Miss Belinda and an occasional neighbor woman, with the added benefit of gossip.

Inside the grand home were four large rooms--downstairs. The sitting room, the dinning room,the kitchen, and their father's study. Each room was papered in a heavy floral pattern and decorated with old, but, well kept pieces of furniture--bought with comfort and necessity in mind rather than the fashion of its design.

The siting room, with its magnificent player piano, was the gathering place for the family's social leisure; saving conversation of a more serious nature for the dining room.

Sitting in the center of the dining room was an overly large, hand lathed, cherry table, topped by an elegant Irish lace runner, that was, for most of the Winter months, buried under a pile of text books, thrown haphazardly by the young ladies coming home from school. When meals weren't being served and savored by the family--the table lent its self to a good number of other uses, as for study, creativity, and for games. At late, however, its disarray had tapered off to an occasional group of organized library books that Martha would leave unattended. The sudden change of focal point being blamed to the fact that Kay and Faye Ann had finished their instruction, and were more often out pursuing entertainment, rather than creating it.

Mrs. McIntosh was the family's only house servant, though she had no patience with the girls, and her domestic skills were lacking, her experience in the preparation of meals were highly favored. She was a woman of obvious Irish decent with all the characteristics believed common for the women of that country. Mrs. McIntosh had a head full of flaming red hair and green eyes as sharp as her tongue, and though, no one had ever laid eyes upon Mr. McIntosh, it was agreed to, by anyone who had ever heard the cook speak of him, that he could outfox the devil himself.

Martha often sat on the screened porch beyond the kitchen, pretending to be reading or writing some important piece of literature, when in actuality, she was listening to the cook ranting and raving about her husband's inconsiderate rudeness, to whatever delivery man would be foolish enough to lend an ear.

Mrs. McIntosh never had a kind word to say about the man, yet, went home to him every night after her daily duties were finished for her employer.

It was this cruel display of marital life and the expectancy of it that turned her off to the whole affair. The bold insinuations and insults, along with the assortment of complaints, led her to believe, for the most part, that men were, by nature, crude an insensitive sorts--with the exception, of course, of her father.

Certainly Martha had more to offer to life than the disappointment in her mate. She admired her sisters ability to take what they wanted from the young men who chased them in hopes of a courtship; and the twins without so much as a concern that they might be hurting their feelings. Martha also envied them.

"Good morning, Father." Martha remarked pleasantly, seating herself at her usual place at the table. "Where are Kay and Faye Ann this morning?"

His brow dropped, forming the deep indention of a harsh wrinkle across his forehead. "Aren't they upstairs?" he quizzed.

Martha shook her head from side to side, hoping that her sisters hadn't taken off on some lark, though it was highly unlikely , as they usually required her to cover for their absence, knowing Father wouldn't be pleased, without a good explanation, should any of his daughters miss a meal.

"Perhaps Mrs. McIntosh or Bendy..."(as she so lovingly called her governess) "...have seen them this morning."

With the last syllable of her remark still humming, the kitchen door popped open. Mrs. McIntosh appeared carrying a steaming silver tray piled high with blueberry waffles and link sausages. As it was not customary to be served before the entire family was seated, she quickly extended an apology. "My regrets, Mr. Shepherd, Sir." she curtsied, "I should have taken the good sense to look."

"Never mind." he grumbled in a displeased tone, impressed that she obviously didn't have a clue to the where abouts of his wayward daughters. "Leave it."

Mrs. McIntosh sat the tray into its wire holder, that had already been placed on the table before they sat down for breakfast , and removed herself back into the safety of the kitchen, and away from a father who's children were missing. Though she had never heard of him striking his daughters, his voice alone, could rattle the bones of the dead when he was agitated.

"I've been worried." he announced. "Kay has been seeing a young man...and hardly a proper young man."

"What are you implying?"

"I feel Kay thinks that I've given her my blessing, by telling her she wouldn't have to wait a turn to marry. It's as if I've opened a gate for her." He lowered his head and continued, "And of all the young men in this city...of all things...Miss Nester's nephew."

Martha knew. Practically the entire neighborhood knew the rumor that Miss Nester was not the boy's Aunt--she was his mother. Martha also knew her father. Henry Shepherd was too good of a Christian man to hold the shame of Adam Nester's birth against him, as a neighbor, but not as a son-in-law.

"I'm afraid, if I demand an end to it..." he paused, sighing, rubbing his heavy hand across his face, contorting it in disgust, "...she is of age."

Suddenly the front door snapped shut. "Good morning." Miss Belinda sang. She was followed into the dining room by Kay and Faye Ann. All seemingly chipper and fresh for breakfast.

"We were going to start without you!" Mr. Shepherd barked. "What on this earth was so important, that you had to traipse off without a word, and without a proper breakfast?"

The governess frowned. "We didn't mean to alarm you, Sir, no one was up yet, so we went for a jaunt down the walk to see the day lilies growing along the fence row a couple of streets over. They bloomed out overnight, and their color is quite a spectacle."

"I'll just bet...quite a spectacle, indeed!" he scolded, "God fearing women to be out for a tour of the town at such a disrespectful hour!"

"Father!" Martha quipped sharply, settling his rage like a frightened turtle pulling back into it's shell for protection. She concluded, "What Father is saying, is that he was quite worried."

Martha, no doubt, had a way with her father; the mood changed.

"I understand that's a sure sign that Fall is here. Is this true, Miss Abernathy?" Mr. Shepherd inquired, his voice calm and apologetic.

"Indeed." she nodded cautiously. "When you drive the auto to the ferry this morning--you really should drive by and see." Suggesting that if he needed any assistance in finding the place, she would be more than happy to accompany him.

After quick breakfast, and a promise to Martha to accompany her to the college for a serious look about the campus, he and Miss Belinda took off in the old Model H for a morning drive before he headed to the ferry that transported both him and the auto across the Ohio River near Madison.

Martha eyed her sisters curiously as they sat picking at the luscious food on their plates as if it had little appeal. It didn't take intuition to tell something was wrong. "Father was about to blow smoke." she announced in order to excite a conversation.

Kay breathed out heavily, as if she had been holding her breath. "We like to never made it back on time." she confessed. "We had gone down to Barrett's barn last evening for a dawn party after Father went to bed."

"...And you are just getting home?" Martha gasped.

Faye Ann interrupted, "Don't look so shocked, sweet sister. You make it appear as if we had done some horrible thing...I assure you...we did not. We were just out having some fun." she snapped, tossing her muddy brown hair in defiance.

Martha charged, "My surprise wasn't meant because of your choice to attend an all night social...but if Father was to find out...he'd have your skin. And...Bendy covered for you?"

"You could have knocked me over with a feather." Kay laughed. We met her at the front door while we were sneaking in. At that moment we heard Father coming down the stair, so Miss Belinda escorted us back out on the porch, insisted, really. Can you believe it? I could have fallen over from the shock of it."

Faye Ann appeared anxious, "We'll be lucky if Miss Belinda isn't telling Father right now."

Martha reassured them, "I doubt, very much, if she will ever breath a word of it--except to tell you a thing or two."

When they heard the auto rumble and sputter as it pulled onto the street in front of the house, Faye Ann immediately excused herself,and no doubt,went to hide in her room, just in case.

Miss Belinda, alone, walked into the house, complaining that her hair had been mussed because of the fact Mr. Shepherd had insisted the windows be left open.

Kay smiled in Martha's direction from across the table. "I wonder what's to blame for her blouse?" she remarked in a low tone, and just out of earshot from the governess.

Martha glanced over. Indeed! The buttons on Bendy's blouse had been fastened incorrectly; as comical as it was embarrassing.

Belinda Abernathy joined the sisters in the dining room. She had taken a firm stance, setting her hands tight on her hips. Her lips pursed. Kay casually gestured for her to look down at the buttons of her shirting, as if she were politely pointing out a drop of food. If the governess had intended to give Kay a lecture about an obligation to her reputation, she, at that moment, changed her mind.

"I suggest you try to get a little rest." was all she said before disappearing into the sitting room with an embroidery hoop and the sewing box.

Martha and Kay chuckled lightly, so as not to embarrass Miss Belinda Further; both thinking how ironic that two mature adults should hide their affections in shame, motivated, perhaps, by not wanting to disrupt the lives of the very ones who would have approved.

Martha was closer to her sister Kay, than she was to Faye Ann. Not for any particular reason, really, other than Faye Ann carried a chip on her shoulder, and out of respect for her father's rule of a quiet house, Martha simply avoided any sort of unnecessary confrontations with her. The twins had each other, and most generally stayed to themselves and their own interests, turning to their older sibling, not for friendship, but for sisterly advice. Advice Martha gave warmly and lovingly, and without judgement.

Kay respected Martha's family position, and over the years, had developed more of a closeness with her older sister because their personalities were similar. Kinder. When Faye Ann was throwing some kind of a selfish and childish tantrum,Kay would seek out Martha's companionship, until it passed.

"Father tells me you are dating someone steady now?" she encouraged.

Kay's pretty face grew pale. "Does he know about Adam?"

"Yes."

"Was he mad?"

"Uncomfortable, but not mad."

Kay rebounded, "Uncomfortable? Mattie, please tell me exactly...What did he say?

Martha leaned across the table, fixing her dark brown eyes on her younger sister's expression. "Father is afraid that you are in a hurry to marry, now that you can. He fears that you might make a choice you'll regret in the future, that's all. Now..Kay tell me...Are you seeing Adam Nester steadily?"

Kay reached up to unfasten the mollusk shell barrette that was holding her sun streaked, light brown hair to allow it to fall limp across her shoulders. Her tired eyes unfocused on Martha's glare. "I'm really too tired to get into this..." she yawned. "...but, yes. He's not like anyone I've ever met. He told me, if I liked him only for what he could give me, then I wasn't worth his time or his money."

"Didn't that make you angry?"

Kay frowned, her brow giving way to a cobweb of tiny tired lines, hidden by several layers of face powder, in an attempt to freshen a sleep depraved face. "I had never had a gentleman tell me what for, 'cept for Father, of course, and to be perfectly honest with you...I was furious...and quite so. I supposed he had to adapt this kind of stingy attitude, 'cuz he had no money. I swear, I tried to keep my distance...as if he had the pox, but I kept being drawn to him. Silly--I know. Martha, I'd like to say it wasn't serious, but, I adore him so. Father doesn't approve does he?"

"I wish, for your sake, I could say he did." she said flatly, "You know Father as well as I do. He might plague your decision with his own advise, but I hope to think he is more civilized than to try to stop you. He just needs to be certain that this has been well thought through , and is what you truly want. I'm thinking his discomfort comes from the idea that you might be stepping into a difficult family situation, with the rumor and all."

"I've heard the rumor too, Mattie, but I don't care." she insisted, like a child insisting on candy before dinner.

"If I can't love him for who he is, what kind of a wicked being would I be?"

"Do you?" Martha inquired.

"Do I what?"

"Love him?"

Kay remained quiet, as if she were contemplating an answer. Her silence unnerved by the wrenching and twisting of her delicate hands. Finally she spoke, in nearly a whisper, hushed by guilt and fear. "I don't handle Father as well as you do, Martha. Can you report it to him?"

"I can not understand why you would want to resign yourself to the servitude of just one man, when there is so much more out there, and it could be yours for the taking. Then again, I suppose it's just as hard for you to understand my way of thinking. Kay, I think your attitude is quite mature, but, I shall not report it to Father for you. I suggest, you tell him...just as you have told me."

Kay declined the suggestion. "I'm afraid I can't be so bold with Father. I'm also not so much in a hurry to marry as he believes. Adam has never even brought the matter of marriage into our conversations. I assure you, if he does, you and I will have this conversation again. I will need quite a bit of encouragement to face Father."

Martha smiled assuredly, "If Adam Nester proposes to you...by all means...we'll talk again."

"Thank you Mattie," her sister yawned, "I'm exhausted. I really must catch a nap." With this she slipped sleepily from her chair. Ascending the stairs, Kay took each step as if she would fall asleep before she reached the top.

Just as her skirts disappeared above the ceiling line, Mrs. McIntosh poked he head out of the kitchen. Her eyes appeared to be red, her face swollen, as if she had been sobbing. She spoke with urgency in her tone, "Miss Shepherd, please?"

Martha stood, startled at what news she might hear.

"Yes. What is it?"

"I must go." she wailed, unable to hold back her emotional upset. She drew back into the kitchen, allowing the heavy six-panelled door to swing on its hinges.

Martha joined her immediately. The streak of bright sun shinning through the screens of the back porch gave the kitchen an eerie glow. Her eyes were stunned by its brightness. She looked about to accustom them to the brilliance.

The counter was still in its disarray from the preparation of the morning meal. Unwashed dishes were piled in the porcelain sink. The woman was standing in the midst of it all; her face buried in the lavender handkerchief she held in her hand--sobbing wildly. Her arms clutching a sweater and a bag, awaiting her release to go home.

Martha demanded cautiously, "For heaven's sake, Mrs. McIntosh. You look a fright. What is it that disturbs you?"

The cook blurted out some rude remark about her husband, its meaning distorted by sobs.

Again, Martha demanded, as she went to her side, and in a comforting gesture reached a sympathetic hand to her shoulder, "I can't understand what you are saying. Please, dear, you must get a grip on yourself and explain to me what is the matter."

Once more she cried out some horrible thing about her husband.

The sun's glow had softened somewhat, leaving only the muted remains of its gleam as a soft light across the heavily waxed flooring--giving it the illusion of being wet.

Martha had never been called upon to give instruction or reprimand to any household staff, let alone to make the decision to allow the cook the day home. "Shall I get Bendy for you?" she suggested.

"No...Mercy...No." she begged. "I don't want to face Miss Abernathy with this."

Getting a more coherent response, she encouraged, "Then, Mrs. McIntosh, you need to calm yourself down and tell me what has happened. Has your Mister been hurt?"

Mrs. McIntosh stiffened her posture in anger, "I could only wish," she huffed, drying her eyes. "When I lay my head down last evening, my Mister had not yet come in...this is not an uncommon thing. However, this morning, he had not slept in his bed, nor could I find him passed out from overindulgence anywhere else in the house. I could only assume some drastic thing had happened to him. I just had an enlightening conversation with a Mr. Snow, our new delivery man for the dairy, he tells me my man has been courting his sister on occasion, and last evening they ran off together." Her voice was shaking with as much bitterness as hurt.

"You poor dear," she replied sympathetically. "What a horrible thing for an employee of the dairy to say to you. Where was his consideration? I should call his company immediately."

"Please Miss, don't inform his supervisor." she begged. "He didn't know. Mr. Snow thought that he was telling me the good news of my brother, as that is what he had been told Mr. McIntosh was to me. I didn't tell him the otherwise."

"What would you do if I bid you leave?"

"I'd go home and cry the pain away." she stated in a cool, matter of fact tone. "Sometimes this is a necessary thing when we take a man in our life."

Rolling up her blousen sleeves, Martha granted her leave.

As she cleared the table, in an attempt to cover for the cook's absence, she thought to herself, 'That settles that. There will be none of this heartache in my life."