Chapter Eight

 

Alex had learned Kate’s address from Hazel Finney. After he was pretty sure Kate was out cold—he didn’t suppose one could ever be completely certain about anything around Kate—he leaned out the window and told his driver where to go. Frank, who still sounded as if he were finding all this vastly funny, said smartly, “Yes, sir!” and drove off.

As far as Alex was concerned, nothing about this latest incident was at all funny. Irate and frustrated, he crossed his arms over his chest and frowned at Kate as the coach jolted along.

She was a pretty thing once one got past her prickles. He knew she had bright, bright blue eyes. He also knew she had a sense of humor, although she was so defensive about everything, sometimes the humor got buried under the strain of all the other things going on around her. That she had a capacity for great love and loyalty was a given. That she’d suffered greatly in her life was also a patent truth.

Evidently, she was the only girl in a family of boys. A violent, dipsomaniacal father, a sick mother, two brothers and Kate. Quite a family. From talking with Hazel Finney, Alex had learned that Kate had pretty much run things for most of her life. That was a load of responsibility for such a small thing. He couldn’t figure out why she was so dashed reluctant to allow anyone to help her.

She stirred, and he leaned over, ready to catch hold of her if she tried to bolt. He wouldn’t put it past her to leap out of a moving carriage if she was still mad at him. A small white hand lifted to her brow. Alex frowned at that hand and that brow. She ought to be wearing gloves. Ladies didn’t go out of doors without gloves. He wondered if she didn’t wear them because she was stubborn and difficult, or because she couldn’t afford them.

Her wrist was awfully tiny. He frowned at it, too, thinking it was smaller than it should be, although he didn’t have vast experience with ladies’ wrists. He wondered if she skipped meals. Probably. Young women always seemed to be obsessed about their weight. Kate Finney didn’t appear to have any extra fat on her at all.

Visions of a couple of the young women he’d grown up with flitted through his mind’s eye. He hadn’t paid a whole lot of attention to them, since he hadn’t been in the market for a wife, but he didn’t recall them being all sharp edges and spikes, as Kate was. His own sister, Mary Jo, was nicely rounded—too nicely, he sometimes thought. All of the other females he knew were softer than Kate Finney, in speech, attitude, and shape.

As long as Kate was immobile, Alex decided to examine her more closely. She always seemed to be in motion when they were together. She never allowed herself to relax in his company. Dash it, why weren’t her brothers more involved in their mother’s care? Mrs. Finney had given birth to all her children; surely, it shouldn’t be Kate alone who cared for her.

He’d managed to work up quite a fit of pique against Kate’s brothers, when she stirred and moaned softly. Her eyelashes fluttered. Because he couldn’t seem to help himself, Alex reached for her hand and held it gently in his. “Are you all right, Miss Finney?”

She moved, as if she were going to try to sit up. Alex tightened his hold on her hand. “Don’t shift around. You fainted, and you shouldn’t sit up too quickly, or your head will swim again.”

“No.” She gave her head a weakish shake.

“No, what?”

“No, I don’t do things like that.”

“Like what? Fainting? I can assure you that I didn’t knock you out, if that’s what you’re going to say next.” Dash it, she’d scarcely awakened, and he was already feeling oppressed and picked-on.

She stopped struggling and again pressed a hand to her forehead. “I didn’t think that.” She shut her eyes.

“Does your head ache?”

“A little. I feel sort of lightheaded.”

A suspicion that had occurred to him before occurred to him again. “When was the last time you ate anything, Miss Finney?”

“Ate? When did I . . ? Heck, I don’t know.”

“We had breakfast this morning. Did you eat again today?”

“Oh. Yeah, I remember that. It was good.”

“Answer my question, dash it, and stop equivocating.”

“I’m not! I don’t even know what that word means.” She shut her eyes again. Before Alex could blow up, she muttered, “I don’t guess I ate again. I think I forgot.”

Alex buried his face in the hand not holding Kate’s. “Good Gad, Miss Finney, you’re a true piece of work, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Kate said sullenly. “Stop holding my hand.”

Alex obliged, although he didn’t want to. What was it about this infuriating girl that stirred all of his gentlemanly instincts, anyhow? She certainly didn’t appreciate them. She didn’t appreciate him. Be that as it may, he found himself again leaning out the coach window and directing a command to his driver. “Take us to my hotel, Frank.”

“What?” Kate’s shock propelled her into a sitting position.

As Alex had anticipated, her abrupt change of altitude made her head swim. She uttered a small cry, pressed her hand to her head, and leaned back against the cushion. “Nuts.” Her voice had sunk to a whisper.

Irked—Alex knew exactly what she feared from him, and he resented it—he said, “Don’t fret, Miss Finney. I don’t plan to ravish you. The only place where it would be proper for us to eat together this late in the evening is the restaurant in my hotel, so that’s where I’m taking you.”

“But . . .” She didn’t finish her sentence. Perhaps she’d begun to think sensibly, although Alex doubted it.

“No buts. You need to be fed, and I’m going to feed you.”

She turned away from him. Alex presumed from this that his expression was rather forbidding. He didn’t alter it. This was the first time Kate Finney had been too weak to fight him, and he aimed to cling to any advantages, however slight.

“You don’t have to do that,” she murmured after a minute.

“I don’t have to, but I’m doing it.” He leaned over, took her chin in his hand, and turned her face so that he could look her in the eyes. “Dash it, Miss Finney, are you trying to kill yourself? What do you suppose will happen to your family if you don’t take care of yourself?”

“That’s what Madame said.”

“As well she might. And what did you answer her?”

“I didn’t.”

“Well, it’s about time you thought about it, young woman. Your mother needs you.”

“She doesn’t. She’s got you now.”

“For God’s . . . I don’t understand you, Miss Kate Finney. If you think for one minute that I would be a satisfactory substitute for you in the eyes of your mother, you’re even more daft than I took you for. And, before you ask, I already thought you were about the craziest specimen I’ve ever come across.”

She frowned at him. “Nuts.”

“It’s not nuts. It’s the truth. You’re absolutely infuriating. One minute you’re telling me you don’t need any help, the next minute I find your mother languishing in the Charity Ward of Saint Mildred’s, the next minute I meet your brother, who’s trying to invest what little money he has to help your family, and the next minute, you’re fainting at my feet for lack of food. Now you tell me. Is that crazy or not?”

“Not,” she muttered, but she didn’t sound as if she meant it.

Alex let go of her chin. She didn’t look well to him. His health, always robust, had accustomed him to thinking little about health in general. His life, unlike Kate’s, however, wasn’t fraught with challenges other than those he encountered in his farming business. His challenges were plentiful, but not especially dire.

Kate’s entire life looked dire from where he sat. Kate Finney shook up his notions about life in general, as a matter of fact. Her existence in his world had rocked his serenity and buffeted his complacency. Dash it, she was worse than a thorn in his side. She was more like a broken leg. Or a violent toothache.

But he was getting away from the present problem. “That’s not the point. The point is that your mother needs you more than she needs me or anyone else in the world. It has become painfully obvious to me that you’re about the only person in your family with a brain and a modicum of common sense, although—”

“I am not!”

Alex squinted at her. She looked as if his words had stung. Curious. “You’re the one who bears all the responsibilities,” he pointed out.

She sucked in a breath. He expected her to use it to revile him. Therefore, when she spoke after hesitating for a few seconds, her words surprised him.

“That’s not fair to Walter and Bill, Mr. English. They aren’t very good with sick people, but they both help a lot with food and rent and stuff. And they keep a watch out for our father, too. That’s the most important thing anybody can do at the moment.”

“Is it? Do they?” Alex was glad to hear it, although he opted not to withdraw his condemnation of her brothers until he learned more about them. So far, the only thing he’d noticed that either brother had done for Kate was make a few investments.

“Yes, they do. Darn it, they’ve supported the family for years. We all have.” She glanced away from him. “You know good and well that our father’s no good. It isn’t fair, but it’s the truth, and my brothers and I know it. We all pitch in, and we have done forever.”

The more Alex heard about Kate’s father, the more he disliked the man. “Isn’t there something the law can do about your father, Miss Finney?” He didn’t soften his voice, sensing that Kate would get mad if he indicated by so much as a hint that he felt sorry for her.

She heaved a huge sigh. “Naw. They don’t care. They might care if Ma was rich, but even then they probably wouldn’t. They don’t like to interfere in domestic situations.”

“Domestic situations?” Alex could barely wrench his teeth apart far enough to poke the two words out of his mouth.

“Yeah. That’s what Sergeant Maguire calls it. It’s a domestic situation, according to him. The home is sacred, according to the Chicago Police Department. Never mind that a father is a drunkard who regularly beats up his wife and kids. They don’t interfere because the home is not the province of the police department, or they say.”

“That’s absurd.”

“Tell it to the police.”

Alex didn’t inform Kate, but he intended to exactly that. Dash it, the home might be sacred, but as far as he was concerned Mr. Finney had violated his right to sanctuary. The man was a brute and probably should have been drowned at birth, as people did with unwanted kittens. Too late for such a merciful solution now.

“But see here, couldn’t your mother get away? Don’t you have relations that might have taken you in?”

Her eyes opened wide in mock incredulity. “A sick woman and three kids? I don’t know if all of your relations are as rich as you are, Mr. English, but mine don’t have room or food enough to accommodate four more people. Not to mention the fact that my father would probably come over roaring drunk every night until they threw us out of the house in order to get some peace.”

“I see.” Alex sat gazing at Kate and brooding over life’s injustices. If one only looked at it, life was merely life. It had no meaning, really. It was neither good nor bad. It simply was. Life was what one was given to work with for a number of years, and then it was over. It didn’t seem complicated on the surface. It was when people started doing evil things with the lives they were given that everything got confused.

“Stop staring at me.”

Kate’s voice, coming to him, surly, out of the dark, made Alex realize he’d been watching her as he brooded. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to stare.”

She patted at her hair. Her hat had tilted considerably during the past half-hour or so, either during her struggle, her faint, Alex’s carrying her, or as she lay on the bench. She pushed at it and fumbled with the brim. “Darn it.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Can’t find my hat pins.”

“Sit still. Perhaps I can help.” He moved to the opposite bench and sat beside Kate, who stiffened. Irked, he snapped, “I’m not going to do anything but try to find your dashed hat pins, Miss Finney. What do you take me for, anyhow?” Ah, there was one of the little devils. It was hanging, caught in a lock of Kate’s pretty hair. He worked it out, trying not to pull. “Here’s a pin. How many more are there?”

“There’s only one more.”

“Hmmm. I don’t see— Ah, yes! There it is. Here. Hold still for a minute.” This one was still stuck in the hat, but it wasn’t doing much good since that part of the hat dangled from the ribbon tied under her chin. Alex got the pin loose. “Here. I guess that’s it.”

She took the pin, and he moved to the opposite bench. She looked ill at ease, and he wondered what her problem was now.

“I’m sorry. Thank you.”

The two statements, uttered in a muted voice and with humility behind them, hit Alex hard. He leaned over slightly and stared hard at Kate. Her head was bowed, and her hat sat in her lap. Her hands, one of them holding two hat pins, were still and rested on the hat’s brim. She didn’t glance up at him.

“There’s no need to apologize,” he said, surprising himself. “And you’re welcome.”

Her head bobbed once. Alex decided the bob had been intended as a nod. She still didn’t lift her head or look at him. Nor did she rearrange her hat. Or her hair. It looked as if it were tumbling from its pins. She really did have lovely hair, thick and shiny. It was a lovely reddish-brown, and Alex would have liked to see it unbound, in the sunshine.

He wondered what the sanitary conditions were at Kate’s place of residence. He’d bet she didn’t have indoor plumbing or running water. He’d never had to live like that himself, and the thought of Kate doing so bothered him.

Her shoulders twitched once. Alex leaned forward slightly. “Miss Finney?”

She shook her head but didn’t speak. Good Gad, she wasn’t going to faint again, was she? “Are you feeling ill?”

Again, her head shook once.

It wasn’t until he heard a muffled sob that Alex realized she was crying. Kate Finney! Crying! He could scarcely credit it. Reaching for her arm, he said urgently, “Miss Finney! Please, Miss Finney, don’t do that!” He hated it when women cried at him. And Kate Finney, of all people. Crying.

He couldn’t’ stand it. With a lunge, Alex moved to Kate’s side of the carriage. With another lunge, he threw his arms around her. “Please, Kate, don’t cry. Everything will be all right. Truly, it will. I’ll see to it.”

For only a moment, she tried to pull away from him, but he was too strong for her. At last she collapsed in his arms, sobbing as if her heart would break. Alex felt absolutely awful. He did, however, realize somewhat to his shock, that he’d meant exactly what he’d said to her. He was going to make everything all right for her or die trying.

Dramatic, he told himself. Entirely too dramatic. The problem was, he decided a second later, that, dramatic or not, he couldn’t make himself not mean it.

# # #

Kate had never broken down in front of a stranger before. Heck, she’d never broken down in front of anybody before, if it came to that. Kate wasn’t the breaking-down type. The fact that Alex’s arms had felt so good wrapped around her, and that she’d wanted to stay there for the rest of her life, she knew was a bad sign.

“Are you ready now?”

And he was being so nice about it, too. That made it worse. “Almost.” Her throat was scratchy from tears, and her hands shook. Alex said it was from lack of food. Kate feared he was right, too. Darn it. She hated it when people were right about something she’d done wrong.

“There’s no rush.”

“Stop being so nice to me, will you? I’m not used to it.” She stabbed a pin in her hat and grazed her scalp. “Ow.”

“I will not stop being nice to you, so you’d better get used to it.”

“Huh.” Shoot, that had hurt. She hoped to goodness the scratch wouldn’t bleed and get her hat dirty. She imagined she looked like the wrath of God, even without a dirty hat. After she’d arranged her hair and her hat, she forced herself to face Alex.

He smiled at her. “Ready?”

“Listen, Mr. English—”

“Please call me Alex.”

Huh? After one quick spurt of trepidation, Kate realized she didn’t have the strength to work up a good froth of suspicion. Rather, she sighed—she’d been sighing a lot this evening—and said, “Okay. Call me Kate.”

He nodded, still smiling.

“Okay. Alex. Listen, you really don’t need to do this. I’ve got some bread and cheese at home I can eat.”

“You’re not eating a supper of bread and cheese, Kate. Stop fighting me, and come along if you’re ready.”

She mumbled, “I’ll never be ready for this.”

“Why not?”

She flung out her arms. “Because I look like hell! That’s why.”

He squinted at her critically. “No, you don’t. You look fine.”

“I’ll just bet.”

She couldn’t see very well in the dark carriage, but she imagined he was rolling his eyes. “Listen, Kate, if it will make you feel better, you can stop off in the ladies’ room before we dine. You can wash your face or do whatever you think needs doing.”

Ladies’ room? Dine? Lordy, she really, really wasn’t ready for this. Feeling small, insignificant, and overwhelmed, she said, “Very well.” It obviously wouldn’t do her any good to balk. She’d already tried that. Nothing seemed to alter Alex English’s course once he got his mind made up. Pigheaded son of a gun.

She didn’t really mean that. To prove it, she said, “Thanks.”

“Stop thanking me.”

He held out an arm, she took it, he helped her down the carriage steps, and kept her arm in his as they walked toward the Congress Hotel. Kate stared at the elegant facade of the brand-spanking new building and decided she wasn’t surprised to discover Alex was staying in it. She’d seen this hotel from a distance. In passing, as it were. She’d never been inside. People like her didn’t go into hotels like this, unless they were maids hired to clean up after the rich people who stayed here. She’d worked as a hotel maid before, but dancing and telling fortunes paid better. She guessed she was still in a debilitated state when her heart started pounding in trepidation.

Telling herself that she was as good as anyone even if she was poor, that she was in the company of Alex English, who was possibly the most respectable human being on the face of the earth, and that nobody, not even the snobbiest and most highhanded Maitre d’hotel would kick her out as undesirable, she braced herself for an unpleasant experience. However unpleasant it was certain to be, it would also contain food. Obviously, Kate needed food, or she’d never have fainted—and how humiliating that had been—so she would endure.

“The restaurant in the hotel is quite fine,” he told her, as if that would be of interest to her.

It was, actually, but not in the way he meant, Kate was sure. She didn’t want to dine in a fine hotel restaurant. She wasn’t made for that sort of thing. “Good.”

He leaned over slightly and whispered, “Please don’t be ill at ease, Kate. This is just a place to get food for people who aren’t in a position to cook their own. Trust me, eating dinner here is not anything to be uneasy about.”

“Easy for you to say.”

For some reason, when Alex chuckled, she not only didn’t take umbrage, she actually even smiled a little. Maybe Alex was right. Maybe she really did have a chip on her shoulder. A tiny one. Virtually invisible.

Alex squeezed her hand. “That’s the way. Keep smiling, and you’ll do fine.”

“Thanks.”

“Stop thanking me.”

This time it was Kate who rolled her eyes. Nevertheless, he’d managed to ease her apprehension enough for her to make an entry into a hotel that was at least a hundred times more classy than she with more aplomb than she’d anticipated. She wasn’t even embarrassed when Alex pointed out the ladies’ room.

“Here,” he said, pressing a coin in her palm. “If there’s an attendant, give that to her.”

An attendant? Holy cow, fancy ladies didn’t really need help peeing, did they? Kate didn’t ask. She did accept the coin, considered thanking him, decided not to, and went into the ladies’ room. As she’d feared, she looked like the wrath of God. But a little soap and water, and another stab at her hair and hat, and she guessed she’d do all right.

In spite of the glamorous surroundings, which took more than a little getting used to, the meal was better than any other Kate had ever eaten; it was even tastier than breakfast had been. Alex watched over her like a mother hen, forcing her to eat her salad and most of her beef Stroganoff, which she’d never heard of before, but which tasted delicious. Alex told her that some grand duke in Russia had invented it, and Kate was impressed. She, Kate Finney, was eating something with a better pedigree than her own. It was kind of funny, really, but when she told Alex, he didn’t seem amused.

“Stop talking about yourself like that,” he said sternly.

She lifted her head and gawked at him. “Like what?”

“Like that. You’re always disparaging yourself, and I want you to stop it. Starting now.”

She chewed on a piece of the butteriest, most marvelous dinner role in the world and stared at him. After she’d swallowed, she said, “Hey, Alex, you’re the one who first said I was no good, remember?”

His glare was quite good. Made him look formidable or something. With more practice, he’d be able to intimidate people with more than his wealth. “I did not say you were no good. I said we didn’t want disturbances like the one your father caused at the World’s Columbian Exposition. That wasn’t your fault, as you were quick to inform me.”

“I did, didn’t I?”

“Yes. You did. Several times. And, whether it was your fault or not, we still don’t want disturbances like that at the Exposition. The Exposition is meant to be a showcase of American ingenuity, spirit, and know-how. It’s supposed to exhibit the very best in America, and I’m afraid that incident directly contradicted the fair’s purpose.”

“I guess it did.” She grinned at him. “I was really scared of you, you know.”

His eyebrows arched like rainbows above his really quite pretty green eyes. “I don’t believe it for a minute. You stood your ground like General Lee at Appomattox.”

Kate forked up a piece of beef and a noodle. “I thought Appomattox was where Lee surrendered to Grant.”

Alex’s eyes narrowed. “Educated wench, aren’t you?”

Kate grinned some more. “Surprised?”

“A little,” he admitted.

Kate tried to be indignant, but couldn’t work up a good head of steam. She wasn’t surprised that Alex hadn’t expected her to have any schooling. She guessed she did act kind of like a hellion sometimes. Oh, very well, most of the time.

“Did you go to school in town here?”

She guessed the look she gave him was pretty sour, but she couldn’t help it. “Where the heck else would I go? Some boarding school in France? The nuns run a school for poor kids in my neighborhood.”

“Ah. The nuns. You’re Catholic?”

He said the word as if he didn’t like it much. “Yeah. You got something against Catholics?”

“Of course not.”

She didn’t believe him. She also didn’t blame him, although she hated herself for the prejudice.

As with everything else amiss in her life, she blamed her opinions about the religion of her forebears on her father. The Holy Roman Church wouldn’t allow a woman to divorce anyone even as evil as Herbert Finney. Not only that, but every time he went crazy and hurt her mother, he claimed the Bible told him such actions were justified because a wife was the property of her husband, and the priest said there was nothing her mother could or should do to stop him. He also said that her father should stop beating up on her mother, but her father never bothered to listen to that part.

Kate knew she shouldn’t hold Catholicism responsible for her father’s reprehensible actions, but she couldn’t help it. “Shoot, Alex, I’m Irish. We’re pretty much all Catholic. More or less.”

“I see. And do you attend church regularly?”

She shrugged. “I go with Ma when she’s up to it. I don’t go on my own.” Lifting her chin and giving him a scowl of defiance, she added, “I don’t believe in that stuff. I think the church is wrong about a whole lot of things.”

“My goodness.”

“Are you laughing at me?”

“Don’t climb onto that high horse you’re so fond of, Kate. I’m not laughing at you.” He hesitated for a moment. “Ah, do you mind my asking you how old you are?”

“Why?” She tried to fight it, but Kate felt suspicion inching its way up her spine.

“Because you act like you’re a hundred and ten more often than not.”

If her mouth hadn’t been full of sour-cream sauce and noodles, it might have fallen open in shock. Before she could swallow and respond to his outrageous allegation, he went on.

“I suspect your life has aged you quickly, and you don’t look very old, but you must know that most young women your age aren’t supporting their parents. It usually works the other way around.”

“Maybe where you come from.” Darn it, she was on the defensive again. For a few minutes there, they’d actually been communicating like—like friends, or something.

Alex heaved a big sigh. “I suppose you’re right. I’d still like to know your age. I understand it’s an impertinent question and that gentlemen aren’t supposed to ask ladies such things, but I’m curious. You have to bear so much responsibility.”

“I’m twenty-five,” Kate said, lying.

“Really? You don’t look that old.”

“Bother. You’re a real pain, Alex English. Did you know that?”

He only grinned.

“Oh, all right, I’m twenty-two. Turned twenty-two last November.” She scowled at him defiantly. “Happy now?”

“Relatively. In case you wondered, I’m going to be thirty on my next birthday.”

“Shoot, really? You don’t look that old.”

His grin vanished, and his frown looked pretty serious.

“Oh, heck, Alex, you know what I mean.”

“No,” he said. “I don’t.”

“Nuts.” She flung out a hand. It was the first spontaneous gesture she’d made since entering the Congress. “Most men in my neighborhood are dead before they’re thirty. Or roaring drunks.”

“Good Gad.”

She shrugged. “It’s the truth. I don’t like it, either.”

His expression softened. “Are you worried about your brothers, Kate? Do either of them seem inclined to take strong drink?”

Strong drink? Kate had never met anyone who used words so nicely. In her neighborhood, booze was booze. “No. I think our father cured us of any inclination toward the booze.” She grinned. “And I threatened them with an awful death if either one of them so much as looked at a whiskey bottle.”

“Good.”

Her grin vanished and she eyed him sharply. “My brothers are both good men, Alex. I guess you think they don’t do enough for Ma, but they do what they can. Walter works two jobs, and he wants to get married. He’s been putting it off for a couple of years now, because Ma’s been so sick.”

“He must have a very understanding fiancé,” Alex said dryly.

“Don’t sound so sarcastic, darn it. He does. She’s a very nice person. I grew up with her.”

“Ah. And does she work as a fortune teller, too?”

“Darn you.” If they weren’t in a fancy restaurant, Kate might have thrown a noodle at him. “No. She works at Wanamaker’s as a ladies’ wear clerk. I make a lot more money than she does, but she doesn’t have my—” She broke off abruptly.

“She doesn’t have your what?”

She’d been going to say “guts,” but guessed that might give Alex too much ammunition. “She doesn’t have my responsibilities. Her father is a nice man, and he supports his family.”

“Ah, I see. That makes sense.” His expression seemed strange to Kate, although she didn’t know exactly why. “You’re an unusual young woman, Kate Finney.”

“By unusual, do you mean weird, Alex English?”

He grinned, making Kate’s heart do strange, leapy things in her chest. He had a heck of a grin. He didn’t look at all stuffy when he grinned. “No. I don’t mean weird. I mean unusual. I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

She frowned at her carrots. “I’ll just bet.”

“That wasn’t an insult.”

“No?”

“No.”

She didn’t quite believe him, but she wanted to. She really, truly wanted to.

# # #

Kate had a quivery feeling in her middle as Alex’s coach approached her neighborhood. Although she knew she was being not merely silly, but totally impractical, not to say insane, she had a mad urge to leap from the carriage and run home so he wouldn’t see the dump she lived in.

Reminding herself that she was as good as anyone, even though she didn’t feel like it more often than she did, and also that her circumstances weren’t her fault and that she was doing her very best to better them, she still felt bad about Alex witnessing this God-awful part of town. Garbage lay everywhere. Sanitation was a laugh. Ladies of the night paraded their wares. Drunken men shouted and laughed. Dirty, half-naked children played on stoops. The whole area was characterized by filth, poverty, and desperation, and Kate wanted out so badly, she could taste the longing every time she came home. She was glad for the dark of night, because the neighborhood was even uglier with the sun shining on it.

That was one of the main reasons she loved working at the World’s Columbian Exposition. Everything there was clean and tidy. It was the only place in Kate’s whole life where everything worked the way it was supposed to work. Even her.

She wasn’t there now, however, and the carriage was rapidly approaching her little corner of the world. Kate sometimes thought of her tiny apartment as a refuge in a storm-tossed sea. It might be small, and it might be falling apart in spots, but she kept it clean, and nobody bothered her there. And that, as she well knew, would last for as long as her father remained in ignorance of her address. The mere thought of her father made her lift her hand and finger the fading bruises on her throat. With luck, he was still locked up. Kate wished she believed in luck.

Girding her loins, so to speak, she said, “We’re not too far away now. It’s just down this street and to the left.”

Alex grunted something, and Kate shot him a glance. As she’d expected, he was glaring out the window, looking as if he disapproved of everything he saw. What the heck. She didn’t approve of it, either. She didn’t say anything. After another few seconds, she muttered, “It’s that big gray building over there. The one with the sign painted on the window. The butcher’s shop.” It might smell bad, but Kate would be forever grateful to the old German couple who allowed her to rent the room over their shop. The Schneiders were nice folks.

Without a word to Kate, Alex leaned out the window and gave a command to his driver. The coach pulled up to the curb in front of Schneiders Meats. With a sigh, Kate prepared to climb down from the high life and reenter her own low place in the universe.

“I’ll see you to your door.” Alex’s voice was gruff.

“You don’t have to do that. I know the way.”

“Stop being stubborn, dash it! I’m going to see you to your door.” He pushed the door open, flipped down the stairs and reached for Kate’s arm.

She allowed him to help her down. Why not? It was kind of fun being treated like a lady for once. “Thank you.”

As if the words were pushing past his restraint, Alex snapped, “Stop thanking me! Dash it, I can’t even imagine you living in a place like this.”

The words hit her like a slap across the face. Stiffening, Kate snapped back, “It’s better than where I came from.”

“Good Gad.”

Before she could wrench herself away from him and dash up the stairs, humiliation burning inside her, a loud roar made Kate stop in her tracks. “Oh, God, no!”

Alex tightened his grip on her arm. “What is it?”

As if life weren’t hard enough already. Kate’s heart sank into her resoled shoes. In a voice shaking with rage and shame, she said, “It’s my father.”