Chapter Ten

 

Madame looked hard at Kate. “He’s taking you where?”

Striving for a nonchalance she was far from feeling, Kate said, “He’s taking Ma and me to his farm tomorrow morning. He thinks the country air will be good for her, and the doctors agree.”

“Ah. He’s concerned for your mother’s health. Of course.”

Kate, who’d been staring in the mirror and applying greasepaint to her pallid cheeks in her daily effort to make herself look more like a Gypsy, frowned at Madame’s reflection. “Yeah. You have a problem with that? I think it’s nice of him.”

Madame’s eyebrows waggled. Kate hoped to heaven the woman couldn’t really read people’s thoughts, because her own mind seemed determined to dwell on last night’s kiss. “Darn it, Madame, there’s nothing wrong with this trip!”

“I said nothing.” Madame popped a chunk of cheese into her mouth and chewed.

Her grin irritated Kate. “You didn’t have to say anything. You look like a darned house cat who’s just caught a big, fat mouse.”

Madame chuckled and swallowed. “No, no, Kate. I’m only concerned for your heart.”

“My heart’s just fine, thanks.”

“Hmmm.” A hot pepper followed the piece of cheese.

Kate knew she’d uttered a huge lie, and she feared that Madame knew it, too. Her heart was a mess, thanks to Alex English. Why had he interfered in her life, anyhow? First he’d threatened her livelihood, then he’d usurped her mother and brother, and now he was threatening her virtue. Oh, it wasn’t fair! If she’d been alone, she might have banged her head against the table a few times in an effort to drive out the confusion dwelling therein.

“Darn it,” she muttered. “He’s being nice to my mother. That’s the only thing that matters.”

“Ah.”

Squinting into the mirror, Kate saw Madame nod. No grin this time. Still, Kate sensed amusement from that quarter. Nuts. Deciding there wasn’t anything she could do about Madame, Kate quit trying and resumed applying dark greasepaint to her cheeks. She was really on edge this morning, longing to see Alex, yet afraid of seeing him, too.

He hadn’t been at the hospital when she’d visited her mother this morning, probably because he was at the police station, filing charges against her father. The back of Kate’s neck burned when she remembered last night’s awful scene. She hadn’t told her mother about it, because Ma would only have felt bad and worried, and she didn’t need more worry. She’d had more than her share of worries in her life already.

Ma had looked better this morning, though, which was the important thing. She’d mentioned the proposed trip to the country three times in ten minutes, and Kate had tried hard to be happy with her. She’d failed. She should be happy. It was a good thing that Ma was going to get out of the city and breathe some fresh country air for a couple of days.

Drat it, why couldn’t she keep her priorities straight anymore? Kate thought grimly that she knew the answer to that one, no matter how little she wanted to admit it. She was beginning to care a great deal for Alex English, and she didn’t want to. The fact that she seemed to have no control over her emotions when it came to him bothered her a lot. Kate had made it a policy never to allow her emotions to interfere with her goals. It troubled her that her policy didn’t seem to be working any longer.

Lifting her chin to observe her fading bruises and to determine if she still needed that black band around her neck, she thought bitterly that, until Alex English waltzed into her life, she’d been just fine. Oh, sure, she’d been poor, but she’d been working like the very devil to better herself and her family. It was also true that before she met Alex her father had been a constant threat, both to her and to her mother. But Kate was used to those problems. She knew how to deal with them. She’d armed herself long since to do battle with the life she understood.

She didn’t understand Alex or his life one iota, yet he seemed determined to drag her into it, whether she wanted him to or not. It was all so confusing.

“It’ll be all right, Katie,” Madame said after Kate decided she no longer needed makeup or the black band. Her words startled Kate, who glanced at the spiritualist’s reflection in the mirror.

Madame was looking particularly mysterious at the moment, even though she was chewing. “Will it?”

“Yes. No worries. Everything be fine.”

“Good. I’m glad.” She’d be even gladder if she had a modicum of confidence in Madame’s predictions.

# # #

Alex was still reeling from the battle he and Kate had waged on Friday night when he set out with Frank on Saturday morning to pick her up at her lodgings. She’d put up a nonsensical fuss about this part of the weekend’s agenda. He’d only prevailed by telling her that if she dragged her suitcase to her mother’s hospital room, he wouldn’t take her to the country with them. He was certain she hadn’t believed him, but she’d given in when he then told her he didn’t intend to make a scene on the sidewalk, and if she wanted to continue arguing about it, she’d have to talk to herself because he was leaving.

God almighty, the woman drove him crazy. He couldn’t understand why he cared so much about her.

As soon as Frank drove the team around the corner and the carriage approached the butcher shop, Alex glanced out the window and felt his lips tighten. Kate stood on the trash-strewn, unpaved sidewalk, a shabby carpetbag beside her. Both the bag and the girl were waiting for him.

Dashed woman hadn’t even stayed in her room long enough for him to carry her bag down those dismal stairs. The memory of her flat caused a shudder to pass through him. He hated the thought of Kate living over that cursed butcher shop.

Alex was frowning out the window when he saw Kate reach down to lift up the bag. In defiance of a lifetime’s worth of lessons in manners and deportment imparted by his parents, he shouted at the top of his lungs. “Leave it there!”

She jerked upright as if she’d been pinched and frowned back at him. Furious with her, with himself, and with the forces that had shaped Kate Finney’s life, Alex didn’t even lower the steps of the carriage when Frank pulled up in front of her. He jumped down, still shouting. “Dash it, let me pick up your dashed bag!”

“It’s not that heavy,” she said sullenly.

“I don’t care how heavy it is. I’ll put it on the baggage rack.”

“Fine.” She heaved a huge sigh to let him know how silly she thought he was being.

Alex gritted his teeth, lifted the bag, glanced up to see Frank staring down at him with a good deal of surprise, and wondered what was wrong with him—Alex, not Frank. Frank was the one who should be handling the luggage. It was his job. Yet Alex had leapt out of the carriage like a man possessed and grabbed Kate’s carpetbag as if it contained pieces of gold. Frank was right: He must be losing his mind.

Consoling himself with the certain knowledge that no man could survive a long acquaintanceship with Kate Finney with his sanity intact, he set the bag in the luggage compartment and tied down the canvas flap. He stopped being surprised to find Kate waiting for him to help her into the carriage as soon as he remembered he hadn’t let the steps down. He flipped them down now, and took Kate’s arm before she could scramble inside without his assistance. She didn’t pull away from him, which he couldn’t help but consider some sort of victory on his part, although he didn’t expect it to last.

Banging on the carriage ceiling, he said, “Hospital, Frank.” Then he sat back and studied Kate, who occupied the bench seat across from him.

Pale face. Pretty brown hair drawn back into a severe bun. Ridiculously small hat with a pink flower attached to it. Well-tailored pink traveling suit that Alex suspected she’d made herself. Old boots, patched and polished and laced with new shoestrings. White gloves.

White gloves?

Yes, by Gad. White gloves. Glory be, the woman was actually wearing gloves for once. Small handbag that she’d made and embroidered herself unless Alex was much mistaken. She looked perfectly respectable and trim. She was, in fact, a living, breathing miracle sitting there across from him.

“Quit staring at me.”

Startled, Alex realized he had actually been staring. He tore his gaze away from her and directed it out the window. “Sorry.”

“Hmph.”

Frustrated and impatient, he snapped, “Listen, Kate, will you please climb down from your high horse for a minute?”

As he might have expected—actually, as he had expected—she bridled. “My high horse? What about your high horse? Darn it, I wasn’t being silly when I suggested meeting you at the hospital! It made perfect sense, and it would have saved a lot of time.”

“It made no sense at all, you mean, and the amount of time it would have saved would have been minuscule at best. At worst, you would have strained something, carrying such a load so far, and spoiled the weekend for everyone. How did you expect to get a bag containing clothes for you and your mother to the hospital without help, pray tell?”

“Who said I’d be doing it without help?”

“You did!”

“I did not!”

“Dash it, you—” Realizing he’d started shouting again, Alex cleared his throat and forced himself to moderate his sound level. “At all odds, you didn’t let on to me that you had someone would could help you.”

“Oh? So, do you think I should tell you everything that goes on in my life?”

Unable to refrain from rolling his eyes, Alex said, “For heaven’s sake, no, I don’t think you should tell me everything. However, when it comes to excursions in which I’m involved, then yes, I not only think you should have explained your mode of transport to me, but I also believe that you were remiss in not doing so.”

“Nuts.”

“It’s not nuts.”

“Hmph. Either one of my brothers would have been happy to help me help Ma. You know darned well that I have two brothers.”

Alex strained to keep his temper from flaring again. “I thought both of your brothers held jobs. Aren’t they busy during the morning on Saturdays? I’m sure I saw Bill behind the counter in Schneiders.”

He felt a surge of triumph when her lips pursed in frustration. “Yeah, well, I could have found someone to help me.”

“You did,” Alex said more smugly than he’d intended. “Me.”

“Hmph.”

“Face it, Kate, I’m concerned about your mother. Being concerned about your mother includes concern for you, whether you want to admit it or not. If anything happened to you, your mother would be devastated.”

“I know that. What does that have to do with you picking me up at my flat?” Her expression took on even more defiance, which Alex would have believed impossible until it happened. “For your information, I’m not proud of where I live, Alex English. I don’t like having you see where I live. It’s ugly, it’s poor, it’s dangerous, and— well, it just is, is all.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Kate. I know what your circumstances are. Do you think I care about that?”

“Darn it, I care about it!”

“Oh, for . . .” Alex swallowed another hot rejoinder, and reminded himself that she had a point. Not a good point, in his considered opinion, but he could almost understand her sentiments on the subject. He’d most likely have felt the same, if he were in her shoes. God forbid.

She went on. “Do you think I like having some rich swell barge into my life and turn up his nose at me?”

This time Alex considered his outrage more than justified. “I do not turn up my nose at you!”

“Maybe not now, but you did.”

“That’s not fair, Kate.” He felt as if she’d punched him in the heart, as a matter of fact. He was the good guy here, dash it.

“The heck it isn’t. Your nose was stuck so high in the air that first day when you wanted to toss me out of the Exposition, I’m surprised you could see where you were going.”

“That’s ancient history! You’re surely not going to drag that incident into the conversation again, are you?”

Fire flared in her eyes. “Darn it, that incident, as you call it, almost cost me my livelihood! And if you’d succeeded in getting me kicked out of the fair, what do you think would have happened to Ma then?”

“But I didn’t get you kicked out, if you’ll recall. As a matter of fact, since that first meeting, I’ve been trying to help your mother.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t want to at first.”

He sucked in air and held onto it for long enough to suppress his bellow of outrage. After he calmed down a trifle, he muttered, “You’re not a proponent of forgiving and forgetting, in other words.”

“I can’t forget! You scared me to death! You threatened my mother and me!”

“That wasn’t my intention, as even you must understand by this time.”

“Huh.”

“My intention was to protect the integrity of the greatest exposition of American invention and creative expression ever presented to the world. The World’s Columbian Exposition is—is—well, it’s like my baby. I didn’t want your father and you to cast inappropriate shadows over what was intended to be a showplace of all things wonderful in our country.”

She glowered at him. She had a great face for glowering: small, vivid, and glowing at the moment with bright flags of fury. “My father isn’t—”

“Your fault. I know. I admit, and have admitted before, that your father isn’t your fault. You’re doing everything in your power to overcome your father’s influence in your life, and to remove your mother from the brute’s clutches.”

“Yeah, well, it took you a while to admit it.”

“Oh, for . . .” Gritting his teeth and feeling persecuted—he didn’t enjoy remembering his first antagonistic meeting with Kate, since he believed it portrayed him in a less-than-stellar light—Alex said, “I’m sorry that I didn’t understand your situation before we met, Kate. But how could I? And how many times must I apologize for that one mistake? Besides, you must admit that as soon as I learned about your problems, I’ve been trying to help.”

“Hmph.” She turned her head and commenced glaring out the window.

Alex studied her profile, wondering why they were fighting. More, he wondered what they were fighting about. Was it because Kate still resented his misjudging her character and moral fiber before they met? That wasn’t his fault, as even she’d probably admit if she ever admitted anything.

Was it because she was afraid he was taking over her life and her mother? This possibility had some merit. She’d even more or less said it outright once or twice, although since he’d come to understand her extreme sensitivity regarding certain aspects of her life, he’d tried very hard to ease her insecurities on the subject. It gratified Alex that he could help Mrs. Finney and, by extension, Kate and her brothers. They were a worthy family, except for the father, and they deserved a break.

Or was it that kiss? Alex stared moodily out the window and thought about it. He didn’t know about Kate, but he hadn’t forgotten that kiss. Dash it. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to forget it, as a matter of fact. Every time he remembered it, his unruly manhood stood to attention and saluted. He wanted her badly. Very badly.

Although Alex had spent some time in recent months vaguely reflecting on the subject of marriage, he hadn’t considered the sexual aspects of such a union. Except in terms of providing heirs to keep the family business going, he hadn’t bothered to consider the appeal of certain women on a carnal level. He’d always believed that marriage stood apart from carnality, rather as an ideal of perfection. Alex hadn’t considered that the perfect marriage should include sexual compatibility, mainly because such topics never intruded into conversations and he’d never had to think about them. Until that kiss.

Because he didn’t care to brood too long on the kiss, with Kate only a foot or so away from him, Alex decided to review the list of ladies who would make appropriate wifely candidates for him. His lip curled when he thought about Mabel Howell, and he made it stop.

Poor Mabel. She was an all-right sort of lady, but she had a dreadful giggle, buck teeth, and, Alex would swear it, she’d never produced an original thought in her life. Not that Alex believed that women necessarily should be original thinkers. Still and all, he unquestionably required a woman who wouldn’t bore him to death within ten minutes of the conclusion of the wedding ceremony. Besides, the brighter the mother, the brighter the children, and Alex didn’t care to sire dolts.

Then there was Julia Bigelow. Julia was quite pretty. No buck teeth in her mouth. And she was smart, according to all the teachers in the small school both she and Alex had attended during their growing-up years. Alex held no prejudices against ladies who wore spectacles, and he didn’t think Julia’s own eye-wear detracted from her overall attractiveness. She did have a rather declaratory pattern of speech, however, and one always got the feeling Julia was bestowing a particularly gracious condescension upon a fellow by speaking to him.

No. Alex didn’t think he’d enjoy marriage to Julia. In truth, and totally without partiality, Julia was a prig and a pedant, she considered herself superior to pretty much everyone else in the world, and she’d make a very uncomfortable wife.

The notion of Julia rearing his children caused him a pang, as well. He didn’t think children needed to be condescended to and treated like inferior boobies. The notion of Julia treating a child of his loins the way she treated her friends made his blood run cold. Any child of Julia’s would grow up thinking he—or she; Alex wouldn’t mind having girl children—was undeserving and unwanted.

Not that children didn’t require discipline. However, Alex preferred his mother’s mode of discipline, which was delivered with gentleness, love, and a guiding hand, to what he expected Julia would mete out to her offshoots.

So. That eliminated Mabel and Julia. Who else was there? Alex brooded over prospects as he continued to gaze absently out at the city.

Imogene Hamilton. Ah, yes, Imogene. She was a sprightly sort; totally unlike Julia, who was as stiff as a stick, and less giggly than Mabel, who was a brainless nitwit. Alex supposed Imogene was a possibility.

But, really, as much as Alex liked and appreciated Imogene, he’d always thought of her more as another sister than as a sexually attractive female or a viable future wife for him. Imogene and Alex’s second-youngest sister, Elizabeth, had been the best of friends. Still were, he guessed. Alex had been a big brother to both of them, and he didn’t think he could suddenly begin thinking of Imogene as a wife.

And . . . But this was a ridiculous exercise. Alex knew why he’d been wasting time thinking on it, though. He was trying to downplay his attraction to Kate Finney. Although he hated admitting it, he feared the Kate problem was going to require more than a few idle moments spent contemplating other women. Not only did Alex not give a fig about the other women he knew, but the notion of bedding anyone but Kate left him feeling empty. The notion of bedding Kate and degrading both her and himself left him feeling sick.

“There’s the hospital.”

Kate’s simple comment succeeded in dragging his brain back from the dismal contemplation of impossible options. “Ah, yes.”

“I hope they have one of those wheeled chairs, so Ma doesn’t have to walk down all those stairs. She can take a little exercise, but I don’t want her to wear out before we get to the country.”

“I’ve arranged for a chair.”

The skeptical glance she shot him didn’t escape Alex’s notice. He sighed. “I’m not trying to take over your position in your mother’s life, Kate.”

“I know that.” She didn’t sound like it.

“I only want your mother to be as comfortable as possible. It will be a long ride for her.”

“I know that.”

Alex heaved another sigh. Frank drew the carriage up to the front steps of Saint Mildred’s, hopped down from his seat—Alex guessed poor Frank didn’t want him usurping any more of his duties—and flipped the stairs down. Without speaking again, Alex held out a hand. After a hesitation so brief he might not have noticed if he weren’t so exquisitely aware of everything she did, Kate took his hand and descended the steps. Alex followed her, sighed yet again, and walked with her into the hospital.

Mrs. Finney, in a wheelchair, with Sister Mary Evodius standing next to her and beaming like the sun itself, awaited them in the hospital’s lobby. Alex noticed two spots of color in Mrs. Finney’s cheeks, and prayed that they signified eagerness to begin this country trek and not fever. He watched Kate rush up to her, smiling as if she hadn’t a care in the world, and kiss her mother’s cheeks. Mrs. Finney glowed at her daughter.

“You look swell, Ma.”

“Thank you, Katie, darling. Sister Mary Evodius has been taking good care of me.”

“It’s a good thing.” But the grin Kate gave the nun held nothing but gratitude and friendship.

“Good morning, Mrs. Finney. You’re looking bright and pretty this morning.”

Mrs. Finney acknowledged Alex’s comments with a brilliant smile. “This is so kind of you, Mr. English. I’m so looking forward to getting out of the city for a while.”

“I’m glad.” Alex smiled at the nursing sister. “Here, Sister, let me take over this operation.”

“There was no need for the chair,” Mrs. Finney murmured. “I’m not completely helpless.”

“I’m sure of it, but there’s no need to over-exert yourself.” He was sure of no such thing. For all the color blooming in her cheeks this morning, Alex could swear she grew smaller every time he saw her. It was as if she were fading away before his eyes, and his heart ached for Mrs. Finney and Kate.

“I can push her.” Kate’s voice was sharp.

Alex considered telling her not to be foolish, but thought better of it. “If you want to.” He stepped aside. Kate gave him an odd look, almost as if she were embarrassed, although Alex wasn’t sure about that. Embarrassment seemed unlikely from this source.

Mrs. Finney glanced from her daughter to Alex, sighed, and said, “I’m looking forward to meeting your mother, Mr. English.”

“Please,” he said, “call me Alex. And my mother is looking forward to meeting you, too. I’m sure you two will find many things in common.” That wasn’t even a lie, although it sounded funny, even to his own ears.

“Yeah?” said Kate. She sounded absolutely skeptical.

Her mother murmured, “Katie.”

Alex didn’t react. He was getting used to being abused by Kate.

# # #

Kate mentally swore at herself to stop being such a witch to Alex. It wasn’t his fault he was a nice man to whom she was wildly attracted. She knew good and well there was nothing in a future with him, because he was rich and educated and socially prominent, and she wasn’t. She was dirt. She was nobody from nowhere.

Actually, she was nobody from the slums, which was probably even worse than being from nowhere. If she’d been born to a poor ranching family in Texas or somewhere, she might exude a tolerable bit of cachet to the folks in Alex’s circle. But, as ever, her luck ran true. It was uniformly bad.

Perhaps not totally. Her father was in jail again, and with Alex pressing charges, maybe he’d stay there long enough for her to relocate. Again. Maybe her luck was turning. Probably not. Pa would probably find her wherever she went. It irked her that if anybody did the world a favor and shot him dead, it would be the perpetrator of that act of mercy who got sent up the river. If justice prevailed in the world, her father would have died before he’d been allowed to cause so much trouble and terror and pain.

She bit her tongue and didn’t utter a word of protest when Alex gently lifted her mother into the carriage. She even smiled at him. A little bit. He gave her an ironic salute, and she knew he understood her smile had been forced. What’s the matter with me?

An answer eluded her and continued to do so as Alex settled a lightweight blanket over her mother’s knees, then turned and assisted Kate into the carriage. He was a prince of a guy, really. She shouldn’t resent his attentions to her mother, since they were making Ma happy. Ma’s happiness mattered more than Kate’s state of confusion. A lot more.

The carriage ran pretty smoothly on the paved streets of Chicago. Kate had noticed before this that Alex’s carriage rode more smoothly than any cab she’d ever been in. Money could sure work wonders. She shot a peek at her mother’s face, and wished money could work a wonder of a permanent nature for Hazel Finney.

“This is so nice,” Mrs. Finney murmured as the carriage rolled along the highway.

Kate watched with fascination as the houses got farther and farther apart, and green stuff began showing up at the sides of the road and in people’s yards. She’d seen fancy houses before, so she knew that many people who were wealthy enough actually grew grass in their yards for no better reason than so the kids in the families could play there.

A grass lawn sounded sort of like a poor girl’s version of heaven to Kate Finney, who’d grown up playing on the streets. Heck, she’d learned to dodge the milk wagon and the delivery carts by the time she was three. Walter and Bill and the Griswold kids used to make a game of it.

“This is really pretty,” she said, hoping the comment would serve as an offering of some sort to Alex, who didn’t deserve her bad temper.

“You think so?”

He sounded merely curious, so Kate didn’t snap at him. “Yeah. We don’t get much green growing stuff in my neighborhood.” She spoke lightly, because she didn’t want her mother to start feeling guilty.

“True, true,” Mrs. Finney said upon a sigh that set her to coughing. The spasm didn’t last long, although it made Kate’s heart skip and her fear rise up like a monster in her heart.

“You okay, Ma?” Her voice was breathy with worry.

“I’m fine, Katie.” Mrs. Finney took a small flask out of her handbag and sipped from it. “The doctor gave me this. It helps to calm the spasms.”

“I wish we’d had more rain recently,” Alex said, sounding as if he, too, were concerned. “There’s so much dust being kicked up by the horses and the carriage wheels. I think I ought to let down the isinglass windows until we get farther out into the country.

He moved to do so, and Mrs. Finney laid a hand on his arm. “Please don’t do that, Mr. English. I mean Alex.” She gave him such a sweet smile, Kate would have wept if she did things like that. “I’d rather see the countryside than worry about my health right now. I—well, I don’t know how many more opportunities I’m going to have to see this.”

Kate uttered a strangled noise that she hoped didn’t sound like a sob as Alex sank back down onto the seat across from her and her mother. “Of course,” he said. “I understand.”

So did Kate, and she hated it. Very seldom did she allow herself to admit that her mother was dying. When Kate thought about Ma dying, she felt as if her heart were being gouged out of her chest by a monster’s claws. If Ma died, she’d die.

Or she wouldn’t die, which would be worse, because then she’d be left to face the world all by herself. Sure, she’d have Bill and Walter, but they always looked to her for everything. She’d have no one left to whom she could talk, of whom she could ask advice, to whom she could cry if she needed to. And sometimes, although she hated to admit this, too, Kate Finney cried.

Oh, God, please don’t take Ma away from me.

As usual, God paid no attention to Kate Finney.