It’s going to feel good to be dressed up for once and not in that uniform, don’t you think?” Meghan laid her primrose gown out on the bed and studied it. Organza, with barely off-theshoulder sleeves of ruffled lace, the dress had been her graduation gift from her parents.
Natalie nodded without looking up, twirling a curl around her finger and reading a letter she’d received that day.
Meghan tried again. “You’re going to look lovely. I wish I could wear pink, but alas, as a redhead, that is one color that is definitely off limits. My hair turns bright orange, and I look like I got sunburned. Redheads have to be so careful about the colors they wear. You, on the other hand, look stylish no matter what.” She sighed and picked up her own letter from home. “Mama wants to know if I can come home for a visit anytime soon or if I have to wait the whole six months. She says the mill is doing fine. The crops are growing well, and Papa is practically living at the mill. Lars sent another letter. I wish he’d write to me. I sent him my address. Still, I suppose when you’re a soldier, it’s all you can do to get one letter written from time to time, and he knows Mama will send along any news. He’s probably somewhere in France; that’s all we know. So much of his letter was redacted, it’s impossible to tell just where he is for sure.”
“Hmm.”
Meghan set her letter aside and went to the mirror to brush her hair. “A whole evening of dancing. Isn’t that wonderful? I haven’t danced since last fall, and that was a barn dance put on by the local farmers’ association. Tonight won’t be anything like that. Did you see the decorations? All those banners and bunting. Flags everywhere. I hardly recognized the loggia. I’ll tell you something, Mrs. Gregory might be a tartar when it comes to following the company rules, but she sure knows how to get things done. She’s more organized than an accountant and more vigilant than a Victorian governess. How many dances do you think there will be? And how many partners? Too bad that train full of soldiers pulled out. If they were here, I bet we’d be danced off our feet most of the night. Though it would seem wrong to take dimes from the very soldiers we’re trying to raise money for, wouldn’t it?”
No response.
Meghan turned from fussing with her hair. “Natalie?”
Tears streamed down Natalie’s cheeks, and she let the pages of her letter fall to her lap. Her hands came up to cover her face. Silent sobs shook her shoulders.
Meghan dropped the hairbrush and knelt by the chair. “What is it? Are you all right?”
She shook her head, still trembling. A small, keening sound escaped her throat, full of pain and fear.
“Did you get bad news from home? You’ve been so quiet since you got that letter, and here I am babbling on like a silly nitwit.” She rubbed small circles on Natalie’s back, chastising herself for not paying better attention.
After a moment, the worst of the storm passed, and Natalie’s muscles eased. Slowly, she lowered her hands, revealing tear-stained skin and drowning eyes. “I know I shouldn’t, but I have to tell someone.” Her voice rasped, sob-roughened. “Can you keep a secret? I mean, never-tell-a-soul-not-even-if-your-lifedepended-on-it keep a secret?”
Sitting back on her heels, Meghan studied her. “What is it? Are you in trouble? Is something wrong at home? You can tell me, and you know I’d never repeat it.”
Natalie took a shuddering breath and gripped the letter in her lap. “I have someone at home who is very ill. Her medical bills are so large I had to leave home to find work. I tried to find a job near her, but nothing I was qualified for paid enough to make much difference. Then I saw the advertisement for becoming a Harvey Girl. I applied, and I volunteered to come to Needles because of the bonus pay.”
Meghan chewed her lower lip and took Natalie’s hands, squeezing them. She’d taken the Harvey job more as a lark, an adventure, a desire to see more of the world than Mantorville, Minnesota, and to do something bigger and more challenging than helping out in the family business and waiting for someone to come along to marry her. And here was Natalie, far from home where she was needed, trying to earn enough money to help with a relative’s medical care. And she’d never said a word, never complained, carrying the burden all alone.
“I’m sorry you’ve got an ill relative, but why is it a secret? Lots of the girls here send money home to help out. There’s no shame in that. Is this relative’s condition worse?”
Natalie swallowed and freed one of her hands to wipe her cheeks. She pressed her lips together, as if battling with herself. Finally, she whispered, “The sick woman is my mother-in-law.”
“It’s an honorable thing for you to help your mother—What? Mother-in-law?” Meghan lost her balance and toppled onto her backside. She braced herself on her palms, sprawled in an unladylike heap. “Mother-in-law as in…?” She gulped. “But that would mean…You’re a widow?” A frown tugged at her forehead as she grappled with this notion.
“No, I’m not a widow. At least I pray I’m not.” Her eyes closed, and a wave of pain contorted her features. “My husband is a soldier. By now he’s in Europe.”
“You’re married?” Her voice squeaked.
“Shhh! Not so loud.” Natalie made a damping motion. “Do you want the whole hotel to hear you?”
“I’m sorry.” Meghan lowered her voice and straightened her limbs until she could wrap her arms around her updrawn knees. “It just caught me so off-guard. Married. No wonder you want to keep it a secret. Have you been married long? How did your husband feel about you leaving your family to take this job?”
“Derek has no idea I’ve left home. Things happened so fast. We were already engaged when America entered the war, and we decided to marry before he enlisted.” A shiver rippled through her slight frame. “He wanted me to have his pension if anything happened to him. He left for training, and while he was gone, his mother had a stroke. I had left my job as a store clerk when we got married, and they hired someone else in my place. In any case I knew that salary would never cover hospital and doctor bills. When I saw the Harvey ad, I jumped at it. Derek got leave to come home and visit his mother for a few days before he shipped out, and we, his parents and I, decided we wouldn’t tell him I was leaving for California. He had enough to worry about. He returned to his unit the day before I met you in Chicago to come here.”
“Oh, Natalie.” Meghan pressed her fingertips to her lips.
“I know. I’m breaking all kinds of rules. If Mrs. Gregory found out, she’d have me on the first eastbound train. But she can’t know. I can’t lose this job. My salary and Derek’s army pay are supporting all of us. My father-in-law is elderly, and it’s all he can do to take care of his wife. He can’t work. I have to stay here, at least until Derek comes home again.” Her blue eyes swam with tears and worry. “You won’t tell, will you?”
“Of course not. I’m only sorry you didn’t tell me sooner. Here I’ve been blathering about silly things like dances and dresses and such, and you’ve been worrying about your mother-in-law and your—it seems so strange to say it—your husband. No wonder you look so pale and drawn all the time. And you’ve the appetite of a finch, down to skin and bones.”
“Sometimes I think I’ll go mad with worry, but I’m so thankful for this job. It keeps me busy; I can’t worry too much while I’m working, and I’m making far more money than I could at home, and I send almost all of it back there. I only wish I didn’t have to lie to Mrs. Gregory or to Derek. If he knew, he’d be crazy with worry. He’s always been protective of me, since we were kids. One of the last things he said to me before he left was how glad he was that I was safe with his parents. That he rested easier knowing we were together and taking care of each other.”
“How do you keep it secret from your husband?”
“I write letters to him and send them home to Springfield. His father sends them on for me. When one of Derek’s letters arrives there for me, they pass it along here. We can only hope no one from home writes to him, at least until after I’ve made enough to cover the medical bills and Genevieve is doing better.” Natalie glanced at the clock. “We’d better hurry and dress. I wish I didn’t have to go to this social. The last thing I feel like doing tonight is dancing with strangers.”
“Maybe we can work something out so you don’t have to. There’s always the refreshment table, though after a day of serving food, you probably don’t want to do that either.”
“Actually, if it meant I could get out of dancing, I’d serve punch until sunup.”
A half hour later, they walked out onto the loggia. This wide, covered seating area on the second floor was reserved for hotel guests and provided an excellent place to view the rugged desert hills surrounding the town. Festive lanterns illuminated the open area reserved for dancing, and a long table held a punch bowl and a variety of cookies and cakes prepared by the bakery that day. A small cluster of musicians optimistically calling themselves the Needles City Orchestra tuned up, and Harvey Girls fluttered around like brightly colored flowers with nary a black dress or starched apron to be seen. More guests drifted up the stairs, local men and women in their Sunday best. Meghan spied Mr. Weeks from the department store and waggled her fingers his direction. He had a smiling woman on his arm whom Meghan took to be his wife.
Mrs. Gregory sailed across the floor in a dark blue dress with black beading along the bodice and down the front of the skirt, clapping her hands for attention. She’d powdered her face and wore a bit of lip rouge, which made her look a bit softer, especially under the light of the paper lanterns.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming. I’d like to give you a few instructions as to how this social will work. First, note the donation box on the end of the refreshment table. All proceeds go to support the Red Cross, and we ask you to be generous. As many of you know, this is a dime-a-dance social. So all the ladies, if you will pick up dance cards from Miss Ralston”—she waved to Jenny standing by the conductor—“and gentlemen, you are free to either pay each lady for a dance or you can settle up at the end of the evening. We want you all to have a good time and to dance a lot. Remember, every dime you donate is a blow against the Kaiser.” She fisted her hand and swung it upward in a little arc as if bopping the German leader in the nose.
Meghan, her mind still ruminating on Natalie’s surprising disclosure, waited her turn to pick up a dance card. All the while, she scanned the room. Boys of sixteen or seventeen huddled together, eyeing the girls. Middle-aged men in suits, most with their wives on their arms, talked in small bunches. Conspicuous by their absence were young men. Every man between eighteen and thirty-five, it seemed, was gone from the town of Needles.
Except one.
Though he’d said he wouldn’t come, she spent a few moments imagining what it would be like if he had. Would he ask her to dance? What would he look like all dressed up? And why, out of all the young men in town, hadn’t he enlisted? She supposed his work for the army was important, but someone older could train horses, couldn’t they? Someone who wasn’t able to enlist? She’d wanted to ask him when they sat on the riverbank, but something wouldn’t let her voice the words. As if she was afraid of the answer. His jibes about the war had set up a faint echo of doubt in the back of her mind, but she quelled it whenever it whispered.
She remembered the strong feel of his arms around her when he’d rescued her, his face only inches from her own, the scents of sunshine and soap and hard-working male surrounding her. At the lunch counter, in the midst of all those soldiers, he’d looked closed off, almost wounded. She had a feeling there was so much more to Caleb McBride than anyone here knew, and she longed to discover more about him. Many times a day, and even more often at night as she lay in bed waiting for sleep to claim her, her thoughts strayed to the horseman, and though she watched the door of the lunchroom for him every day, hoping he would come in, true to his word, he stayed away.
“May I have the pleasure?” A young man with a cowlick stood at her elbow.
“Of course.” She smiled at him, offered him her dance card, and read the name when he returned it to her. “Of course, Lawrence. I’d be delighted.” She allowed him to swing her into a waltz, joining the twirling figures already dancing.
Her dance partner was so nervous, he stared at his feet and counted the steps under his breath. Perhaps a bit of conversation would help him relax. “Are you a student at the high school?”
He looked up, stumbled, and righted himself. “Um, no. Not anymore. I graduated last month. Just turned eighteen.” His narrow chest swelled a bit, and he dared another glance at her face. “Just enlisted, too. Gonna go kill me some Germans.”
A lump formed in Meghan’s throat at the eager light in the boy’s eyes. He was so young, on the cusp of manhood, eager to go to war. How soon before battle jaded his fresh, smiling eyes or snuffed out his life altogether.
She smiled her warmest smile at him. “I’m proud of you. Everyone must do their duty. We’ll all be here praying for your safe return.”
Natalie stayed by the refreshment table, serving punch and cakes. When Meghan stopped by after the third dance, Natalie smiled and winked. “Mrs. Gregory approved my overseeing the refreshments.” A bit of color had come back into her pale cheeks, and her eyes looked less tense. Perhaps sharing her secret with someone really had eased some of her burden.
Meghan danced and chatted and got to know the people of Needles. They were friendly and accepting of the Harvey Girls. Most of the men worked in some way for the railroad, and they considered the waitresses part of the Santa Fe Railroad family. She enjoyed herself and added quite a few dimes to the donation box. She even added a few names to her quilt list, thanks to Mr. Weeks spreading the word. But the night lacked a certain luster.
Then at half past eight, Caleb McBride emerged at the head of the stairs. Impossible to miss his entrance, because a murmur went through the crowd and Mrs. Gregory sucked in a sharp breath. Meghan, dancing with the man who owned the drugstore, tripped a bit and had to right herself, leaning on her partner’s guiding arm.
Caleb looked fine all dressed up. Better than fine. He took her breath right away.
Caleb resisted the urge to turn around and go back down the steps. He was all kinds of a fool. In spite of repeated warnings to himself to steer clear of the hotel, this dance, and Meghan Thorson, here he was, dressed like a strutting turkey and acting like a besotted beagle pup.
He scanned the crowd, aware of the eyes turned his way but trying to ignore them as he sought out the one person he’d come to see. There she was, dancing with the druggist. What was his name? Cooper? Hooper? Didn’t matter. Caleb never went into the drugstore anyway. Come to think of it, he hardly went anywhere in Needles anymore. Feed store, Claypool’s for groceries once a month, Doc Bates’s, and to church where he sat in the back, kept to himself, and ducked out the minute the music for the final hymn started.
And now here he was at the El Garces. Second time this month. He was definitely loco.
The song ended, and Meghan slipped from her partner’s arms and allowed him to lead her off the dance floor. The druggist’s touch on her elbow made Caleb’s gut churn, and he forced himself not to go over and yank the man’s hand away from her. Surprised at the strength of his reaction, he reminded himself he had no claim at all on Meghan, and moreover, he didn’t want to have one. But if that was the case, why was he here? Why was he doing this to himself? He was like a starving, penniless man standing outside a bakery window, salivating over what he couldn’t taste. Coming here was a mistake. He could still get out of here. It wasn’t too late.
Then she looked right at him, and her smile smote him in the chest like the kick of a mule. She excused herself from her partner and walked toward him. He hadn’t counted on talking to her, hadn’t thought beyond just getting to see her. He’d figured by now Mrs. Gregory would’ve spilled out all her dislike of him to Meghan, and Meghan would disdain him like the rest of the town. Just getting a glimpse of her would’ve been enough. But here she was, coming at him all friendly, like he was a welcome guest.
That yellow dress was sure something. Pretty as a spring sunrise. And her smile. He couldn’t look away. She acted like he was the only one in the room and she couldn’t wait to talk to him. Unlike every other person here. He hadn’t missed the pinched lips, the whispers, the pulling aside of skirts as he passed.
Her green eyes sparkled in the glow of the paper lanterns and lightbulbs strung along the balconies as she stopped before him and held out her hand. “Caleb, I’m so glad you came.” Her smile warmed him, and he couldn’t help but notice how burnished her coppery hair looked and how a rosy tint graced her cheeks.
“Evening. After your reminder down at the river that everyone should do his part, I figured I should come and lend my support to the cause.” His voice rasped like he’d swallowed a fistful of horseshoe nails. When their fingers touched, warmth zipped up his arm, and he had to remind himself to let go.
“I’d been hoping to see you in the lunchroom, but I suppose you’re busy with your horses. How is the training going?”
“Fine.” She’d been watching for him at the hotel. That thought shot him through with golden arrows, and he cautioned himself, though it seemed to do precious little good. Her friendly reception was like water to his parched insides.
She flicked open a lacy, yellow fan and stirred the air, but she wasn’t using it as a flirting tool like some girls did. No lowering her chin or batting her eyes. Instead, she looked right at him, her lips parted, eyes such a deep green he wanted to sink into them and forget to come back to reality. “I hope the work won’t keep you away indefinitely. With so many strangers and travelers coming through, it’s nice to see a familiar face once in a while.”
He dragged his mind away from how creamy-smooth her skin looked and how several delicate russet curls wisped at the nape of her neck. “I’ll be sure to stop by next time I’m in town.”
Now where had that come from? Hadn’t he just told himself he wasn’t going to—?
“The orchestra is about ready for another song.” She consulted her dance card.
And he could dance about as well as a peg-legged duck on ice. How was he going to get out of this? Why hadn’t he thought how awkward it would be coming to a dance and not being able to take a turn around the floor?
Because he’d been too busy thinking about how lonely his life was and about how pleasant it was when a pretty girl noticed him. Not just noticed him, but was nice to him. Treated him with respect instead of like something she needed to scrape off her shoe.
She glanced at him expectantly, and he noted the three men waiting nearby, eager to claim her for a dance.
“I’m not much for dancing. If I pay the dime, will you sit out this dance with me?”
A small furrow appeared between her brows, and questions invaded her eyes, but she nodded. “Of course. Would you like some punch?”
He cupped her elbow, savoring the whisper-softness of her skin, and led her to the refreshment table. The three men hoping for a dance faded away, and he made sure his face bore not a trace of smugness.
“You remember Natalie?” Meghan accepted a cup of lemonade.
“I do. A pleasure, ma’am.” He reached up to touch the brim of his hat before he remembered he’d left it downstairs at the hatcheck. Back home they’d call it the coat check, but the need for coats was so rare here, he didn’t even own one anymore.
Natalie handed him a crystal punch cup. His fingers were way too big to fit them into the tiny handle, so he wrapped his fist around the whole cup instead. “Lots of folks here tonight.” A sip. Tart coolness slid down his throat.
Music started up and couples swung out onto the floor. A few dowdy matrons sat on benches along the balcony rails, and a few older men clustered at the far end of the loggia, smoking cigars. He was the only man over twenty and under forty in sight. The old biddies glared at him, especially Mrs. Gregory.
Caleb tried to cut her some slack. After all, she was a widow woman who had just sent her only son off to war. She had to be scared and probably mad at circumstances and life. For all he knew, she was maybe even mad at God. Lotta good that would do. Caleb had been known to get mad at God himself from time to time. Didn’t change anything, except to make himself miserable.
With a grimace he drained his cup and gave it back to Natalie.
Meghan sipped her punch, watching the dancers and only occasionally glancing up at him. What was wrong with him? He’d thought of not much else than being with her over the past month, and now, when he had the opportunity, he couldn’t think of a thing to say.
She set her cup on the table. “It’s so warm up here. Would you like to go down to the lobby? I know it isn’t much cooler, but the sound of the fountain always refreshes me. I think I’ve earned a break.”
The tightness in his chest relaxed as they made their way down the stairs and away from all the prying eyes. Concentrating on concealing his limp and thankful she wasn’t in a hurry, he even grew bold enough to put his hand on the small of her back—the same place her apron bow usually rested—to guide her through the deserted foyer to the edge of the fountain. Moonlight tinted everything bluish-white and cast deeper shadows under the balconies and loggia. Over their heads, the music drifted down like rain.
Water splashed from the marble tower in the middle of the pool and rippled the surface of the water. He skirted potted palms and ferns scattered around the edges of the open space and guided her past a row of empty wicker rocking chairs. White pillars stood at attention around them like silent sentinels. The only electric light came from wall sconces along the perimeter of the atrium, creating an almost magical mix of lamplight and starlight.
“It’s so peaceful here in the evenings. Though most nights I’m too tired to enjoy it. And Mrs. Gregory doesn’t really like to see us lounging in the public areas. She says the guests don’t pay good money to run into the hired help in the lobby.”
“She runs a pretty tight ship, doesn’t she?”
Meghan shrugged. “I suppose so, though from what I understand, that’s what the company requires. Everything here has a proper procedure, and it’s Mrs. Gregory’s job to see that we follow it. She has high expectations, and at first I thought they were impossible, but you know what? Now that I’ve been here for a few weeks, I find myself able to meet those expectations and standards without too much effort. And I love the work, especially serving the soldiers. They’re so brave and manly in their uniforms.”
He pressed his lips together and let his hand fall away from her back. Every conversation always seemed to wind its way back to the war. His gut tightened, and he shoved his hands into his trouser pockets.
She knelt and scooped up a handful of water, letting the droplets trickle through her fingers. “And they’re always so nice and full of fun. It’s heartbreaking to think that some of them won’t be coming home. That’s why we must do all we can, like tonight’s appeal for funds, to see that our soldiers have the best of everything. That’s why I’m working on a project, a rather ambitious project, to raise one thousand dollars to purchase an ambulance to send to Europe to help our boys. I know it’s a lot to take on, but after hearing the speech that Mr. Gibson from the Red Cross gave, and knowing how badly our soldiers need help, I couldn’t do any less.” She was so eager and innocent. How soon before she realized that life couldn’t be conquered just because you wanted to conquer it? Someone needed to educate her before she got hurt.
“A thousand dollars? Where are you going to get that kind of money? I’d be surprised if tonight’s dance netted you more than twenty-five after you take out the money for the refreshments and such.” No one in their right mind would try to raise that kind of money, not here in Needles where most folks made less than a thousand dollars in a whole year.
“Oh, I expect to see it accomplished. The cause is too great for me to fail, and anyway, I gave my word.” She linked her arm through his and did a happy little hop. “Mrs. Gregory is going to be so surprised. And Mr. Gibson. He came to the organizational meeting to get us all started on service projects, and he’ll be back in a few months to see how we’ve done. Everyone chose a project and how much they thought they could raise.”
“And you put yourself down for a thousand dollars. What are you going to sell to raise that? The Statue of Liberty?” He jerked his thumb at a war poster someone had fastened to one of the columns. Lady Liberty stood with outstretched hands, imploring America to send her sons to protect her and her Allies. The words came out harsher than he had meant, and she let her hand fall away from his arm.
Those incredible eyes blinked, and her arched brows drew together in puzzlement. “No, nothing like that. I’m making a quilt. A Red Cross signature quilt, and I’ll sell space for folks to have their name embroidered on it.”
“That’s crazy. Who would want to pay to have their name put on a blanket?” The notion baffled him.
Her spine stiffened, and her chin came up. “Patriotic Americans, that’s who. People who realize what an honor it is to sacrifice a little of our comfort here so that those men fighting for our freedoms, who have sacrificed much more than we ever could, can have proper medical treatment, food, and clothing. I’m not trying to squeeze Needles to death. I have a plan to go door-to-door in the neighborhoods, visit all the local businesses, and I got permission to have a donation jar on the front desk. That way travelers who are so inclined can donate and print their name on one of the slips I’ll leave there. Dozens of people come through here every day, people with enough money to travel. Surely some will contribute. Not all the money has to come from the citizens of Needles. I’ve thought it all out. I’m not stupid, you know.” Her voice vibrated with fervor, and her green eyes glowed with the conviction of her cause. He couldn’t help but notice her beauty as she stood before him all zealous and eager in the starlight.
“Someone ought to take your photograph like that. Or paint you for a recruitment poster. You’d sell a million war bonds and have soldiers enlisting in droves.”
Relaxing, she gave him a soft tap on the arm. “Don’t be silly. Not with this red hair and freckles. I’m no great American beauty, not like Natalie.” A touch of something wistful crept into her voice. As if she knew without a doubt the truth of her words and longed to be different.
His voice went gruff on him. “Natalie’s all right, but she’s not to every man’s taste. Some men like fiery redheads who believe in things so strongly they can almost stir a dedicated cynic to action.”
She raised luminous eyes to him, and he found himself stepping closer, drawn to her fire and innocent, untouched air. Her sweet lips parted, and a slight breeze fluttered the lace on the neckline of her dress. His fingers found hers, entwining, slowly drawing her closer. Time seemed to stand still as he drowned in her eyes, in her goodness, drawn to her fire and courage. He had a feeling this girl held the power to heal some of the broken places in his heart, the starved, atrophied, dead places he’d locked away.
Her breath came in shallow gasps, as if she, too, were caught in a maelstrom of unfamiliar feelings. It was all so sudden, and she was so sweet and passionate and fresh. He wanted to crush her to him, to stave off the loneliness that stalked him.
It had been so long since he’d allowed himself to feel anything but anger and shame. Even longer since he’d let himself care how someone else thought of him. Warning bells clanged in his head as his mouth went dry. She wore a beguiling perfume that wrapped around him, muffling the doubts. The last time he’d let his defenses down, had allowed someone into his heart, she’d used that power to crush him. And here he was on the verge of making the same mistake again.
He drew her nearer. His lips hovered over hers, a mere breath away. She wasn’t resisting, but then again, she was so innocent, she probably didn’t know of the raging hunger sweeping over him, the need to kiss her and see if she tasted as sweet as she looked. The warning bells got louder. He had to stop before he got hurt, or before he was so deeply ensnared he couldn’t escape.
“What on earth are you doing?” Mrs. Gregory’s scalded-cat screech jerked them apart. “Miss Thorson.” Like an avenging angel, the head waitress strode across the courtyard, hands fisted at her sides.
Meghan backed away from him a couple of steps. “Mrs. Gregory, I—we—”
“Your behavior is scandalous. Bad enough for you to be caught dallying with a man right in the hotel, but this man!” She raised her bony forefinger to pierce the air before Caleb’s nose. “I won’t stand for it. If you want to keep your job, Miss Thorson, you’ll get yourself upstairs to that dance this instant.” Cold, terrible wrath poured from her eyes.
“We weren’t doing anything wrong. Is it wrong to get a little air? We’re here in plain sight. We were talking about raising money for the Red Cross. Mr. McBride is very interested in helping out the war effort in any way he can, I’m sure. Why else would he come to the dance?”
Her defensive tone hurt Caleb. Why should she have to explain herself to a woman who deserved no explanation? He winced when she invoked the name of the Red Cross, which she seemed to hold sacred.
Mrs. Gregory snorted. “Why indeed? He’s shown not the slightest interest in the war or our efforts until now. In fact, until you arrived in Needles, he never came to the hotel, not even to eat. He’s like a stray dog slinking around. A yellow-bellied cur at that. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop encouraging him. It’s disgraceful, and I won’t have it. Get yourself upstairs now. And when this dance is finished, you and I are going to have a frank discussion about your behavior and your choice of companions.”
Caleb stepped between her and Meghan. “Mrs. Gregory, nothing happened. If you want to be angry, be angry with me, not Meghan.”
“Don’t tell me what to do. I am constantly reminding Meghan not to be too familiar with the young male customers. I should’ve known it from the first day she arrived. This is the second time I’ve found the two of you in a rather compromising situation. The first could’ve been explained away as an accident, but there is nothing accidental about this.” She flicked her hand at them. “You, Miss Thorson, are supposed to be upstairs earning money for the Red Cross. Not only are you in violation of the conduct rules for a Harvey Girl, you are stealing from the war effort by your absence at the dance.”
Meghan’s reddened face paled, and her eyes widened.
“I paid for a dance, Mrs. Gregory,” Caleb cut in.
“That may be, however, three dances have come and gone since you two scuttled off.”
Taking a deep breath to keep from saying something he would regret, something that might make the situation worse for Meghan, Caleb stepped back. “Mrs. Gregory, I apologize for your distress, though there is no need to take your ire at me out on Meghan. She isn’t at fault here.” He dug in his pocket and withdrew a dollar. “Here you go, Meghan. Put that in the kitty. It will more than cover the time you spent with me.”
He had to press the folded bill into her palm. “Go on upstairs. And thank you for telling me about your project. I’m sure it will be a success.” A harrumph from Mrs. Gregory. “We don’t need money from the likes of you, Mr. McBride. The Red Cross in Needles will not take a coward’s cash. You won’t assuage your conscience in this manner, or for so paltry a sum. I may not be able to ban you from this hotel, but I can make sure you stay away from my girls. I won’t have their reputations sullied, not by your amorous advances nor by being associated with a yellow coward like you.”
Meghan stood frozen, her expression shifting from guilt to confusion. Soon the confusion would give way to disgust, the same disgust dripping from Mrs. Gregory’s every word once Meghan had a talk with the head waitress. A sense of fatalism gripped him. Why even bother to fight back, to declare he wasn’t evading military service? She’d only ask why he didn’t enlist, and he’d rather be boiled in oil than ever let Mrs. Gregory know of his leg. He’d been a first-class fool to come here, to think that anything had or would change. In the eyes of this town, he was and always would be a coward.
Meghan climbed the stairs to the party and dropped the well-creased dollar into the collection box. Natalie drew her behind the refreshment table, her pale blue eyes full of questions.
“Where did you get off to? Mrs. Gregory is searching for you, and she looks fierce.”
“I know. She found me.” Meghan couldn’t keep the tremor out of her voice. She’d just come within a small cat’s whisker of kissing Caleb McBride.
“What happened? Where were you?”
“Downstairs in the courtyard by the fountain.”
Natalie searched Meghan’s face and jumped to the correct conclusion. “And you weren’t alone, were you? You went down there with Mr. McBride. Meghan, what were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t thinking. But nothing happened. We just walked a little and talked. It’s not illegal to talk to someone, is it?”
Mrs. Gregory emerged at the top of the stairs. Her piercing eyes found Meghan, but she was prevented from marching over as someone stopped her to talk. The current waltz ended, and the band began to pack their instruments. A smattering of applause rippled from the guests, and several of the musicians bowed and nodded. The dancers seemed loath to leave, however, and they lingered in little groups, visited the punch table one last time, and strolled under the colorful lights.
Filling yet another punch cup, Natalie handed it across the table. She kept her voice low. “It isn’t illegal to talk to someone, but it is risky, especially the likes of Mr. McBride. After you left, Mr. Weeks and his wife mentioned to me that Mr. McBride isn’t well thought of here in town. Some folks say he’s a coward who won’t enlist. They say he’s making a mint off the war by selling horses to the army. What kind of a man would try to make a profit off a war he’s too afraid to fight in? Everyone’s shocked to see him here at all. He usually stays away from town, and he never accepts hospitality, not that it sounds like anyone’s offering him any these days. Folks say he’s a recluse.”
The need to defend him coursed through Meghan. “He’s not like that. Surely he has an exemption to the draft, since he’s in agriculture? He works for the army.”
Natalie shook her head. “Mr. Weeks says since he doesn’t grow crops or raise animals for food, he shouldn’t be exempt. And lots of men enlist anyway, even if they could claim an exemption.”
“Girls.”
Meghan jumped as Mrs. Gregory’s hand came down on her shoulder. “I can see, Miss Daviot, that you are filling Miss Thorson in on a few facts. You would do well to heed her warnings, Miss Thorson. Mr. McBride is not a suitable companion for any young lady, much less a Harvey Girl. You mustn’t allow your head to be turned. Caleb McBride is a coward and an opportunist. He allows others to fight for his freedom while at the same time pocketing a profit at their expense. Surely you don’t want to be linked with such a man?”
Meghan’s cheeks grew hot as she realized that several party-goers had stopped talking to listen in. Heads nodded and tilted toward one another, and a couple of hands went up to shield whispers.
“Of course you wouldn’t,” Mrs. Gregory answered for her. “You may not appreciate it just now, but I truly do have your best interests at heart.”