Page 37 of A Steadfast Heart
Jo looked back at her. “What education did your ma have?”
“Much like my father wanted for me. Society rules. Dressing nice.” Kaitlyn smiled. “My mother was so beautiful, and she had the prettiest dresses.”
Jo’s eyes turned wistful. “My ma had pretty dresses.”
“You remember seeing them?”
“No. They’re in my closet. They’re not like the calico dresses she wore on the ranch. The ones Pa gave to you.” Something flashed through the little girl’s eyes too fast for Kaitlyn to categorize it. Then her expression settled into longing. “Maybe I could try one on?”
Kaitlyn glanced at the penmanship lesson. But this was the longest conversation she’d had with Jo since they’d met. Maybe that was a bigger step than a lesson.
Besides, one of Amanda’s dresses might be made over to fit her daughter.
“That sounds like a good idea.”
Jo pounded up the steps. Kaitlyn followed more slowly. Had God really told her to share her history with Jo? By the time she’d entered Jo’s room, the little girl had spread a rainbow of dresses onto her bed. She came back out of her closet and added a black skirt and lace-covered shirtwaist to the collection. “They’re beautiful, Jo. Which would you like to try on?”
“The one that’s still in the closet. Can you get it? It’s kind of heavy.”
Heavy? Maybe it had a lot of beadwork.
Kaitlyn crossed to the closet and peeked inside. “I don’t see anything else in there.”
Jo spoke from behind her. “You have to look in the very back. I think it was her wedding dress.”
Kaitlyn stepped into the closet. A whoosh of air warned her, but too late. The door slammed closed, the noise echoing through her chest.
Please, no. Not this.
She turned the handle, rattled it. No use. Locked. The spacious closet shrank around her, the walls closing in.
“Jo, this isn’t funny. Open the door.”
“Sorry. I got chores to do.” Her footsteps faded away as she ran down the stairs.
“Jo! Josephine McGraw! Don’t you leave me here!” She expelled the air in her lungs, struggled to draw in another breath.
Don’t be silly. There is air here. Plenty of air.
Then why did her chest feel so tight?
“Help!” She banged on the door. No one was inside the house to hear her. She’d be here for hours.
Her pulse pounded in her ears.
Think, Kaitlyn. Think.
She dropped to her knees and ran her hands along the floor. No luck. Not that she’d expected to find a wire, since this room had only ever held clothing.
She stood up and beat her fists against the door. Pain exploded in her hands, ran up her arms, but she had to be loud. Everyone was outside. Someone would miss her eventually, but she wanted out of here now. Needed out now.
Her chest expanded, trying to find more air. She stepped back. Only one step to the back wall. She’d never build enough momentum to pop the lock. If it could even be popped.
She tried anyway. Her shoulder crashed into the door and she bounced backward. The door stood.
“Help me!” She kicked the door, her boots offering little protection from the pain.
Some answer to prayer this had turned out to be.
