Fortune's Journey Read Online Free

Watson, taking Fortune’s arm. “I thought we should walk over together. It’s not good for us ladies to be out alone.”
    Several men stopped to stare admiringly at them as they walked across the rutted dirt road and then down to the general store. Fortune wasn’t surprised. Mrs. Watson was extremely good looking for a woman in her thirties. And while the dress she was wearing, perfect for an afternoon tea in Charleston, was totally out of place in a dreary little town like Busted Heights, it was a real attention-grabber.
    Aaron, looking smug and self-satisfied, was waiting for them at the general store. “It’s about time you got here,” he said. “Mr. Patchett’s about to have kittens.”
    Mrs. Watson laughed. “Get along with you, Aaron. Here, take me up the stairs.”
    She extended an arm, which Aaron took with only the slightest show of reluctance. He was used to such requests.
    Fortune followed them around the side of the store, where an outside stairway led to the second floor.
    She was pleased with the playing space. The oil lamps that Walter and Mr. Patchett had lit revealed the loft to be spacious, with an unexpectedly high ceiling. Better yet, there were several windows to allow them some fresh air. Sometimes it got so stifling when they were acting! She noticed a makeshift stage at the far end of the room and guessed that they probably used it for the musicians when they had dances here.
    Walter, Edmund, and Mr. Patchett were standing at the front of the room waiting for them. They had already carried up the trunk that held most of the properties they would need for the play. Mr. Patchett was tapping his foot and looking impatient.
    As Fortune turned to finish her survey of the room, she became aware of one more person. Jamie Halleck was sitting in a chair against the side wall.
    â€œWhat are you doing here?” she asked disapprovingly.
    He looked startled by the tone in her voice. “I…I just wanted to listen. I asked Mr. Patchett if it was all right.”
    â€œWell, wait till tomorrow night and pay, like everyone else,” she said sharply. She turned away from him and headed for the front of the loft.
    â€œI had intended to,” said Jamie coldly. Fortune stopped. His voice, which had seemed childish, almost afraid, was suddenly deep and masculine. She turned back toward him.
    Before she could speak, he cut her off.
    â€œYou needn’t put on such airs,” he said icily. “You’re not the first actress I ever saw. But I love the theater, and we don’t get much of it here in Busted Heights.”
    Something about the way he said “the theater”—a sense of reverence tinged by longing—reminded Fortune of her father.
    â€œDon’t be so hard on the boy, dear,” said Mrs. Watson, stepping up beside her. She lowered her voice and added, “Remember, it never hurts to have a handsome young man around. It might even keep that scamp Aaron on his toes.”
    Giving Fortune a wink, she patted her shoulder, then turned away.
    Fortune looked back toward the door. Jamie was on his way out. “Oh, all right—you can stay. But don’t interrupt! And I expect you to buy that ticket tomorrow night!”
    He turned back, and Fortune caught her breath at the radiant smile that wreathed his face.
    â€œCan we get started, please?” she shouted, partly to cover her own confusion.
    Walter, who acted as her stage manager, scratched his beard. “Sure thing, Miss Fortune.” Raising his voice he bellowed, “Take your places, everyone!”
    There was a muted grumbling and a moment of confusion as the troupe shuffled into place for Act One, Scene One of The Widow’s Daughter. Fortune took her position stage right and waited for her first entrance, which was some fifteen minutes into the play. Walter barked out a direction, and they began.
    Fortune found herself yawning as Mr. Patchett