“May I have the honor of the first dance, Miss Stone?”
He kisses my gloved hand when I hold it out to him. “You may, Mr. Piper.”
James leads me out onto the floor for a waltz. The assembled guests take this as their cue to find partners. As we settle into the steps and music, I relax. James really is a glorious dancer. No matter why Papa wishes me to spend time in his company, I cannot fault him for his skill on the dance floor. I am in good hands and company as we float across the ballroom. Even so, it feels all wrong. James is not the one I want to dance openly with. Nate is.
“I have been thinking of the perfect time to make our announcement,” James says as we twirl about the floor. “People expect an early announcement, but I say let’s leave them hanging until the end. It will build the suspense and make them think you have jilted me instead of agreeing to be mine.”
“It will be the talk of the society pages once the guests return east,” I agree.
“Exactly.” James smiles as if it is all a silly game to him instead of our lives and future at stake. “I’m glad you have agreed to our union,” he adds. “Uniting the families will be beneficial for all involved.”
“I hope love comes into play somewhat, James,” I remind him. “We should build any sort of attachment on love and not just money.”
“Love?” His fair brow furrows like it is a foreign concept. “Naturally, love is very important to a union, but it is not the only deciding factor when choosing a life mate. The quality of the person and their family is paramount, I believe. I thought we agreed on this, Mercy.”
“You make it sound like a business deal,” I accuse.
“It is,” he says. “Marriage is like merging two companies. There must be something beneficial in the deal for each, or it will fall through. I know divorce is all the rage in some eastern circles, but I shan’t have the taint of scandal touch my family’s name. When we marry, it will be forever. There will be no going back.”
“So, even if we found we chose unwisely and realized it was a mistake, there would be no outlet?” I am not altogether sure I like this new aspect of James emerging.
“There are other outlets acceptable to an empty marriage besides divorce,” he answers.
I shudder at his words. “You speak of dalliances. What of the wedding vows? It is a sin to break them.”
“Depending on the situation. Even St. Peter himself would turn a blind eye to certain ‘dalliances’ as you call them.”
I pull my hands free as the music stops. “Forgive me, James. I am feeling ill. I need some air.”
I push my way through the crowd to the little door leading to the veranda. Once outside, I take big gulps of the cool night air. Must I truly saddle myself to James Piper for eternity? Oh, where is Nate when I truly need him?
I hear a commotion from the kitchen and move to investigate since the veranda extends the length of the grand ballroom and to the adjoining kitchen.
“. . . I scarce believed it meself until I saw the proof. All puffed up like one of them blowfish from too long in the drink. He had sense enough to store identification in his inside pocket, or the coppers woulda had a time identifying him.”
“Identifying whom?” I feel as if I am walking through a dream as I enter the kitchen from the veranda entrance. “What are you all gossiping about when you should work?”
“Oh, Miss Stone!” Cook’s hand flies to cover her mouth. “You needn’t be in here. Off with you now. Enjoy your party.” She makes a shooing motion with her apron. “Off you go. Let us take care of the details in here.”
I shake my head. “Not until you tell me whom you are speaking of. Please, Cook,” I add when she looks reluctant. “You have known me since I was a child. I used to eat bread and butter in this very kitchen and help you bake pies. Please. Tell me.”
“Very well.” She sighs, not relishing the task at hand. “They’ve found Nate Thatcher. Drowned, God rest his soul.”
“Drowned?” My knees give way, and I grab onto the counter for support. “Are you positive? Are you positive it was Nate Thatcher?”
“Bless me, child, I saw him with my own eyes.” Cook makes the sign of the cross over her head and chest. “I wouldn’t believe it otherwise.”
“Drowned,” I repeat as if saying it once more will make it seem real. “Drowned. Forgive me, Cook, I must go.”
I lurch out of the kitchen. I’m not sure where I expect my feet to take me but do not care as long as it is far away from the news of Nate’s fate.
“Mercy? Mercy, wherever were you?” Papa asks as I careen into the grand ballroom. “Mercy?”
I attempt to push past him but stumble. Papa grabs ahold of my arm. “I must get upstairs before I am unable.” I press at my chest, knowing my eyes must appear desperate when they meet Papa’s concerned face. “Please, Papa, I must get upstairs. Please, don’t stop me. Please. I must get upstairs.”
“There she is! Darling, come and share the happy news! I can’t wait another second!” James signals the band to play a sentimental song as he takes my hands and pulls me out onto the middle of the dance floor amidst both mine and Papa’s protests.
“Please, James, no, I cannot.” I shake my head, one fist over my heart. James ignores my protests. Instead, he turns to the gathered crowd and raises a glass of champagne.
“Honored guests, friends, and family, I am overjoyed to announce that Mercy has agreed to make me the happiest man alive. May I present my future wife, the love of my life, Miss Mercy St—”
I collapse on the dance floor. I stare up at the painted ceiling with its cherubs and angels, praying they take me away as they did Nate. I hear James’s voice as if it is coming from far away.
“Mercy? Mercy? Give her air! Give her air, I say!”
Air? How can I breathe without Nate? How can I even live without my Nate?
“Mercy? Mercy, can you hear me? Mercy? Mercy!” James’s voice fades even more into the background.
I see Nate just beyond reach, moving among the guests.
“Nate?” I smile. “Nate, do not leave me. Come back. Please, do not leave me.”
I close my eyes, and he is suddenly beside me. There is a soft glow about him, like in a religious painting, but his smile is the same as always as he holds out a hand to me. “I’m here, Mercy. I’m here.”
I take his hand, feeling light as air. Everything else—the party, Papa, James—seems a long way off. They don’t matter anymore. The only thing that matters is Nate, and he will never let go of my hand again.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Nathan asks for what must be the fiftieth time since we left Open Closed Doors. He’s driving Dad’s car since I don’t feel up to it after experiencing Mercy finding out about Nate’s death, and then seeing her own death in the regression. “’Cause you’re quiet. If you’re not okay, just say so. I’m not sure what I can do, but we can figure something out, okay? Just say the word and we’ll figure something out, okay?”
“She died. She died on her birthday. She died on her birthday.” I’m fixated on that fact almost as much as Nathan is fixating on asking me if I’m okay.