A Proper Pursuit (53 page)

When our lips finally parted, Silas crushed me against his chest for a moment. I was glad that he did. I felt so weak and breathless and dizzy that I could barely stand.

At last my strength returned and I pulled away.

“Thank you.” I still was able only to whisper, for some reason. “Now I know what it feels like and—”

“I love you, Violet.”

I couldn’t speak. Tears filled my eyes.

“It’s the truth. I love you. I’ve never been in love before, but I’ve fallen in love with you. I don’t suppose I could get you to change your mind? About never getting married? Because I don’t think I can live without you.”

I longed to ask if he loved me enough to change; enough to give up stealing and find a legitimate occupation. But I remembered Nelson Kent’s indecision when I’d asked if he would surrender all of his wealth for Katya, and I was afraid to ask. If Silas hesitated, if he was unable to decide—or if he lied to me—it would break my heart. He would have to choose to change on his own.

“No, I won’t change my mind. Good-bye, Silas.”

“Violet, wait—”

“I’ll remember that kiss for the rest of my life, but now I have to go.” I was going to burst into tears, and I didn’t know why. I fled into the house and up the stairs to my room.

As soon as I closed my bedroom door, I took off my dress and unlaced my corset. To my despair, all of the symptoms of love that every romance novel had ever described were still there. My heart raced wildly. I was breathless, weak, dizzy. His last kiss had left me so dizzy, in fact, that I had leaned against him to keep from falling over. And the symptoms were still there, even after I’d torn off my corset and tossed it onto the floor. I was in love with Silas McClure. I had fallen in love with a thief.

True love was much more devastating than in a romance novel. More devastating than the Great Chicago Fire. The flames of love were all-consuming, and there was nothing you could do to stop them or hold them back. You either saved yourself or ended up destroyed.

I cried inconsolably.

After a while, I heard my bedroom door creak open. Aunt Birdie floated into the room in her nightgown and gazed down at me, her head tilted to one side in sympathy.

“You must be in love,” she said. I could only nod. “Make certain you marry for love, dear.”

“I know, Aunt Birdie, I know!” I sobbed as her arms surrounded me. “I want to marry for love, but he is completely unsuitable. He’s a thief. He even confessed that he was one tonight. My father would never approve of him, even if I got up the nerve to ask him.”

“Your father, of all people, would understand.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, he defied his father, you know. Angeline was totally unsuitable too. But he married her for love.”

The mention of my mother brought another flood of tears. “I found her, Aunt Birdie. I found my mother tonight.”

“Oh, how nice.”

“And she didn’t abandon me after all. My mother left me because she loved me.”

“Well, then,” she said as she hugged me tightly. “That says it all, doesn’t it.”

Chapter

37

Saturday, July 15, 1893

I
was packing the last of my things on Saturday morning when I remembered the journal I’d stuffed beneath the mattress. I took a moment to leaf through the record of my time in Chicago and paused when I found my entry from June twentieth.

I had written
Mysteries to Solve
on the top of the page. I had arrived in town with two of them and had added several more. Now that I was going home, it surprised me to see how many of them I could cross off.

1. Why did Mother leave us? Where is she?

2. Did Maude O’Neill murder her first husband? How can I stop the wedding?

3. Why did Father change from being one of Mr. Moody’s Yokefellows to being indifferent about religion?

4. Why are Grandmother and Father estranged? What were the “sorrows” she mentioned in her life with my grandfather? Why won’t Father let her talk about my mother?

5. Was Aunt Matt’s fiancé, Robert Tucker, really a thief, or was Aunt Birdie simply rambling? Did Mr. Tucker get caught? Is he in prison?

6. Does Nelson Kent really love Katya, or is he using her? Is he using me?

7. And speaking of being used—is Silas McClure using me, or does he truly have feelings for me?

The last question brought tears to my eyes. Silas was the only man I’d met this summer who had truly loved me. And I loved him. I dried my eyes with his handkerchief, which still bore his faint scent. I finished packing my trunk, then went downstairs to wait for my father. I had just reached the foyer when Aunt Agnes burst through our front door without even knocking.

“Violet! Oh, you poor dear,” she said breathlessly. “You had better sit down. I’m afraid you’re in for a terrible, terrible shock.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I have scandalous news. Outrageous news! Nelson Kent eloped with his grandmother’s serving girl last night!”

“Good for him.” I couldn’t help smiling.

Aunt Agnes gripped my shoulders. “But, my dear, aren’t you positively heartbroken? He proposed marriage to you!”

“And I turned him down. He’s in love with that serving girl, Aunt Agnes, and I’m thrilled for both of them. I hope they figure out a way to make it work.”

“Oh, my dear,” she moaned as she pulled me into her arms. “You must be in shock. I’m sure the truth hasn’t sunk in yet. I feel so bad for dragging you into this mess.”

“You don’t have to feel bad at all.” A giggle escaped from my lips, and Agnes pulled away to stare at me.

“I knew you’d be upset,” she said. “You’re hysterical!”

“I’m not. Please believe me, Aunt Agnes. I know all about Nelson and Katya. I loaned her the gown she eloped in.”

Agnes pulled a collapsible fan from her handbag and flicked it open. She fanned herself vigorously, causing the papers on the hall table to flutter in the breeze.

“Oh, Violet, I’m so sorry.”

“Listen, I had a good time with you and your friends. I learned a lot. You helped me decide some things in my life.”

“I’m acquainted with plenty of other young men from good families. I could make introductions for you.”

I smiled, wondering what she would think of the nickname I’d given them: pea pods. “I have to go home today, Aunt Agnes. But who knows? Maybe I’ll visit Chicago again someday.”

“What’s all the fuss?” Aunt Matt asked as she marched out from the kitchen. “What’s going on?”

“I’ve come with dreadful news,” Agnes said. “Violet’s beau eloped with another woman!”

“He wasn’t my beau—”

“Oh, is that all?” Matt asked. “Will you be staying for lunch, Agnes?”

“Not today. I must go and comfort my dear, dear friend, Sadie Kent. She is simply devastated that her Nelson would do such a thing and run off that way. The family is worried sick about a breach of promise suit, so I offered to come over and talk with you, Violet.” She sniffled as Aunt Matt stomped back to the kitchen, shaking her head.

“I’m not going to sue anyone, Aunt Agnes. I never accepted Nelson’s proposal.”

“Oh, thank goodness. The Kents will be so relieved. Disappointed, mind you, but relieved to know they won’t face a lawsuit. I’d better go and tell them right away.
Au revoir
, my dear. And give my apologies to your father. I’m afraid I’ve failed him miserably.”

I watched Aunt Agnes hurry away to comfort Mrs. Kent and realized that while many things in her life were superficial, the friendships she shared with the other women were not. There was a solidarity in their lives that I had experienced only at school with Ruth Schultz. I no longer wanted a life like Aunt Agnes’, but I admired her a great deal. She had taken her sorrows and tragedies and allowed good to come from them, just as Grandmother had advised me to do.

I went into the parlor and found Aunt Birdie seated on the sofa, reading a letter from Gilbert. I could tell by the faded ink and tissuethin paper that it was many, many years old. I still hoped she would forget that Gilbert was dead, but for now she had found comfort in his letters. She looked up when she saw me and smiled through her tears.

“Your young man was right, Violet. I hear Gilbert speaking to me.”

I couldn’t reply around the lump in my throat. She had referred to Silas as “my young man.” I wondered how long it would take for me to forget him. Did people ever find true love more than once in a lifetime? Birdie and Aunt Matt never had. I hoped I would.

I heard my grandmother puttering around in the kitchen with Aunt Matt, fixing lunch, and I wandered out to talk with her. She stood at the kitchen stove, stirring a pot, and I slipped into place beside her.

“I hope you aren’t too disappointed that things didn’t work out for Louis Decker and me.”

She circled her arm around my waist and laid her head against my shoulder. “Not at all, my dear. You would make a dreadful minister’s wife. You’re much too high-spirited and unconventional. There are people in the church, I’m sorry to say, who would try to put you into a mold and squeeze your wonderful imagination right out of you. God has a purpose for your life. You would be wrong to marry Louis for my sake.”

“And there is much more to life than getting married,” Aunt Matt added. “But if you do get married, Violet, make sure you and your husband want the same things in life.”

“I know. I want to do something useful with my life, the way both of you do. I’m just not sure what that will be. I’ll never forget all those wonderful displays you showed me at the Woman’s Pavilion, Aunt Matt. You really inspired me. You both did.”

Father arrived in time for lunch. I listened as he chatted with Grandmother at the dining room table, and it seemed to me that they had reconciled a bit. He kissed her cheek when it was time to go.

“Good-bye, Mother,” he said. “I trust I’ll see you in Lockport for the wedding?”

“Of course, dear. And don’t be a stranger, John. Bring Violet back to see us once in a while. We love her dearly, you know.”

We all wept as I said good-bye. Even Aunt Matt brushed a tear from her eye. Father finally pried me out of Aunt Birdie’s arms and towed me out to the waiting carriage, grumbling about missing our train. We chugged away from Union Station an hour later, but my tears didn’t stop falling until we reached the outskirts of the city.

We would be back in Lockport in another hour, so I drew a deep breath to gain control of my emotions. I still had a few things that I needed to discuss with my father. He was engrossed in the newspaper he had purchased from one of the street urchins at the train station, but I cleared my throat, signaling for his attention.

“I know why Grandmother came to Chicago after her husband died,” I began. “And I know why she didn’t come to live with us.” He folded his newspaper and laid it aside, frowning.

“It was because your Aunt Bertha—”

“No. She came here to search for Mother.”

His frown deepened. “Did she tell you that?”

“Yes. She started working in all of those poor areas so she could look for Mother and convince her to come home to us.”

“She promised me that she wouldn’t talk to you about your mother.”

“And she didn’t break that promise. I learned everything on my own. I came to Chicago to find Mother too.”

“You what?”

“That was the real reason I asked to visit the city—not to see the fair. I needed to know why she left me.”

“Violet, I already told you—”

“I found her. And now I know exactly why she left. I know the truth about her past—that her family were gypsies and that she worked in a burlesque theater.”

He closed his eyes.When he finally opened them again, he gazed out of the window not at me. “How is she?” he asked quietly.

“Still beautiful.”

He nodded silently.

“Mother told me the whole story, her side of it. She didn’t go away because she was discontented with you. She left because she loved you. Your father told her that the reason her babies died was because God was punishing her. She didn’t want anything bad to happen to us because of her. Then her brothers found her and threatened to expose her past to all of Lockport if Grandfather didn’t pay them money. She was afraid the scandal would ruin you and me. So she left.”

Father’s lips drew into a tight, angry line. “So it wasn’t just Philip who my father destroyed.”

“I know how strict your father was and how he made your brother run away. But I would like to hear your side of the story. All of it. Starting with the night of the fire when you and Mother met.”

He was silent for so long that I began to believe he wouldn’t speak. But at last he started talking, hesitantly at first. His voice was very soft.

“I was in Chicago that night with Philip. I found him in the saloon that he and Lloyd O’Neill ran together. Philip wanted to become an actor, and he enjoyed the theater and all of those other vices that our father railed against. I made a deal with Philip to come to Dwight Moody’s church with me—just once—so he could see how the Gospel was supposed to be preached. I kept telling him that Mr. Moody’s portrait of Christ was much different than our father’s. I convinced him to come, promising that I would never ask another thing of him if he did. And Moody’s sermon didn’t disappoint me. I remember they sang a song that night called ‘Today the Savior Calls.’ ”