Into the Light (10 page)

“Oh, thank you. I suppose her husband’s a jealous fiend.”

Jamie shook his head. “He’s working with me at the mill now, and he’s too tired to be fiendish except for a few hours of a Sunday night. And there’s an affection between them.”

“That’s nice to hear. So am I invited to dinner tomorrow night?”

“If you like.” Jamie looked around. Close to noon now, the tables around had emptied, but he hunched forward and lowered his voice. “Am I right that you’re rich, rich as Rockefeller as they say?”

Trey sat back and folded his arms over his chest. “That’s a strange question after all this time. No. I’m not taking a penny from my father, and even he isn’t in Rockefeller’s class. I told you about the vein of gold I found in Arizona, but I’m not.... If you’re in trouble I’ll give you what you need, and I won’t starve for lack of it. Is that what you’re asking? How much?”

“No, no. I’m doing this all wrong. But it feels like asking, begging, and I’m having trouble finding words.”

“Damn it, Jamie. If you need my good arm, it’s yours. I owe you, and we’re friends. If you need help, tell me what you need.”

“There’s no need to it. It’s a dream, and it’s not even mine. Maura’s husband is fresh from Ireland. His family were mechanics. The trouble is they were also Republicans.”

“So he’s not a fiend. He’s a Fenian.”

They both laughed, and at least the embarrassment was gone from Jamie’s face when he sobered. “These days he’s just another poor Mick like the rest of us, and since he’s a lot smaller than you or me, hefting hundredweights of flour is going to break his back sooner than mine.”

Jamie stirred the slop in his bowl some more. “Mind you, I missed two days at the mill again last month with the fever. Mr. Dalton seems a fair sort, but I don’t know how much of that he’ll stand for, and Nolan, he’s mad for these horseless carriages. He’s sure if we could find a way to buy one or two at the factory, we could sell them here at a profit. He wants me to talk you into being a partner in an automobile business.”

“I see.” Trey thought a moment, then said. “No.”

Jamie looked down at the melting mess in his dish. “That’s wise of you, I suppose. I promised to ask, and I asked.”

“I don’t want to be a partner in an automobile business. Even if they work well back East, I can’t see why anyone would want one out here, but if you’re serious and willing to do it right, I’ll loan you what you need as an investment. I’m not talking about bringing one of the things out here and selling it for a few dollars more than you paid. The two of you need to put together a plan.”

“A plan?” Jamie said blankly.

“Yes, a plan. What will you buy, for how much, how many, where will you keep them, can you do it all yourselves or do you need extra labor? Add in living expenses for the two of you until you can make a profit, three years, five years, budget it out. Who do you think is going to buy these things and how many men like that are in Hubbell? In the county? In the state? Forget the dream and come up with a detailed plan, and if it looks good, I’ll finance it.”

Jamie’s mouth had gone slack with astonishment. “And if he’s only dreaming and not serious enough to come up with such a thing, you’ll save your money.”

“I’ll save my money, and you’ll save yourself. You don’t want to be partners with a man who isn’t serious.”

“There’s not many ways out of the mill for a man like me.”

“Sure there are. You could open a hospital. After all, you have experience with invalids. I’ll give you a glowing recommendation.”

Jamie laughed out loud again. “You’ll put me in a hospital with lectures like that. I’ll talk to Nolan. We’ll both find out what he’s made of.”

They left the table with its dishes of melting ice cream and started down the street. “So have you found your good Catholic girl?” Trey asked.

“Maybe. We’re a long way from the priest yet.”

“Do I have to wait until you’re before the priest to meet her?”

“No, if she falls for a heathen like you, it will only prove she’s not the right one for me.”

“You’re a romantic, you are.”

Hearing his own words, Trey thought of his plans for the evening. He was going to sit on a bench behind the town hall waiting for a spinster he hoped was younger than she made herself sound to join him because she was the most interesting woman he had ever talked to. Did that make him a romantic fool? Or just a fool?

D
EBORAH’S DISCOMFORT THREATENED
to erupt into panic at any moment. How could she have agreed to dance with eligible men tonight? Men. Not just the ubiquitous Hiram Johnson, twice her age and always smelling as if he hadn’t washed this week, but men, plural.

She couldn’t remember doing anything so stupid, but Aunt Em would never make up such an unlikely story. The price of daydreaming instead of paying attention had been high before, but oh, how had she let this happen tonight?

If he was there.... He wouldn’t be there. But if he was, how long would he wait? He’d come inside when he gave up on her. This wasn’t a private affair like a wedding. Everyone in town and half the people in the rest of the county crowded the hall, making the dance area even smaller than usual.

Deborah craned her neck to see over Billy Potts’ shoulder. No one had gone toward the back door, or come in that way that she’d seen, but she couldn’t keep an eye on the door constantly and dance. And there was Aunt Em, smiling at Hiram Johnson and putting an arm on his to keep him nearby. Hiram had already had his dance!

Deborah stumbled. Billy caught her and, bless him, eased her off the crowded dance floor, and not near where her family gathered either.

“Are you all right?”

“Fine. I’m fine.”

“Sure you are. Come on, I’ll take you out for some air.”

“Please don’t.” She backed away from him a step, flinched and moved forward again when she bumped into someone behind her. “Please just....”

“You don’t want company, do you?”

She shook her head, wishing all the men Aunt Em rounded up were as nice as Billy. Of course he was a still a boy with a rash of red spots on his chin. He had to be even younger than.... Banishing that thought, she said, “Help me escape, and I’ll be in your debt, and you can dance with Miss Carbury.”

Billy blushed at the mention of Miss Carbury, but nodded, undoubtedly happy both to help and to be free to pursue that young lady. He pushed through the crowd and led the way outside through the front door.

“Thank you. I’ll be fine now.”

Other couples had come out for air. Deborah watched Billy assess the company and decide she’d be safe here.

As soon as he disappeared back through the front door, she began working her way around the building, passing first a couple lost in each other’s arms, then two men embroiled in a heated discussion about the best variety of wheat. She made it to the back door and the path to the garden, out of breath from hurrying and from the fear it was all for naught. She’d never know if he had left before she got away or if he had never....

“I was about to give up.” His voice floated to her out of the blackness of the night.

“Oh.” Relief washed through her, leaving her weak in the knees. “I was afraid you would. If you were here that is. I had to dance with every eligible man my aunt could rope into it. She says I promised. I don’t remember, but if she says so, I did.” She felt her way to her bench and dropped down, heedless of her skirt or anything else. “I’m sorry. I’m babbling. I thought I’d never get away.”

“I’m glad you did. Somehow I expected you this time, and I was starting to feel disappointed.”

“Me too. I mean disappointed that I couldn’t get away. You’d give up and go inside and I’d never know and never recognize you, and, well, I’m glad it didn’t happen.”

“Maybe it’s time we give up the mystery and tell names.”

Deborah hesitated, but she still didn’t want to know — or to tell. “No, let’s not, but — is your hair dark?”

“Plain old brown, the middling kind of brown. How about you? I took brunette to mean dark. Is it?”

“Yes. Almost black, but not quite.” She settled back, ready to bring up the last book she’d read or ask him if he’d ever seen an electric car like the one the newspaper said won a fifty-mile race in two hours. Fifty miles in two hours!

“When we talked before, you sounded firmly established in the unmarried state, yet you admit you’re dancing with eligible men. Have you changed your mind?”

“No. The problem is my aunt is stubborn as stone,” Deborah said, more sharply than she intended. “The fact I’m not — enthusiastic just means she drags over any unmarried man with a pulse, the more desperate the better. When I got away, she had hold of this old, smelly....”

“You’re angry.”

“No, I’m not.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She didn’t want to talk about Aunt Em or anyone else in the family, and how could she divert him to the kind of thing she did want to talk about? “Maybe I am a little. I’ve told her often enough that I don’t want to marry, and she just keeps hoping and arranging and, and fussing.”

“She cares about you and wants you to have a better life.”

“Married isn’t better, not for a woman.”

“Aah. So your reading has included authors such as Mary Wollstonecraft and Susan B. Anthony, and you’re an acolyte. If I try to debate their theories, you’ll be angry with me.”

As a matter of fact Deborah had never heard of Mary Wollstonecraft. Susan B. Anthony had been mentioned in the newspaper once — unfavorably. Deborah decided she needed to see what she could get her hands on written by those two ladies.

“I wouldn’t be angry with you, but no one with an ordinary family would ever understand about mine.”

“What’s ordinary? My father believes the only real crime is getting caught, my sister makes Lady MacBeth sound sane, and my mother walks around with a smile on her face pretending she doesn’t notice.”

“My grandfather was so mean his own children wished him dead. Someone else killed him before anyone in the family could, but it was a close run thing. When I was seven years old, my cousin killed my father. I saw him do it — the same cousin who gives me books, the same cousin who couldn’t bring himself to put his old dog out of its misery last week and had to ask a neighbor to do it.”

He laughed. “You win. For a spur of the moment effort that was excellent.”

“I thought so.” She closed her eyes, relief giving way to sorrow. She should never have let resentment over his choice of subject provoke her into revealing secrets. How fortunate that her secrets were so outrageous he didn’t believe them.

“You left out your aunt roaming the moors at the full moon with a lantern held high.”

“She doesn’t have to do anything that ordinary. In addition to trying to get me to the altar when I don’t want to go, she spends her time poking and prodding trying to find out about my life before I came to live with her and my uncle when it’s none of her business.”

The laughter was gone from his voice. “You really are angry with her.”

“I love her, and sometimes I hate her. Yes, she really upset me tonight. Would you like to trade her for your mother who always smiles?”

“I guess not. I don’t suppose you’d take my sister instead?”

“She’s really consumed with guilt over something she did?”

“No, she’s like Lady MacBeth before the murder. She raves about wanting to kill someone. Me in fact.”

“But she doesn’t mean it.”

“I hope not. She’s expecting her second child, and she lost the first. I tell myself that’s why she acts the way she does, and once the baby’s born she’ll be the way she used to.”

Her small flare of resentment died, and the sadness intensified. “Family isn’t always what you want it to be,” she whispered.

“No one knows that better than I do. I walked away when I was eighteen and swore I’d never come back, but then something happened, and here I am. You’d think nine years would change things, and in some ways it has, but not the things that made me leave to start with.”

The sum of eighteen and nine stunned her so much she almost missed what he said next.

“I escape from the ranch every chance I get the same way you escape from crowds.”

Her heart stopped then leapt to her throat as she jumped to her feet. “Ranch! You’re not.... College.... The Third.... You liar!”

Unable to form a coherent thought, much less sentence, Deborah turned and ran. Yanking open the back door of the hall, she wove, darted, and pushed her way through couples waiting for the next dance to begin until she reached the place on the other side of the hall where Uncle Jason and Caleb stood talking.

By the time she got there, Caleb was already staring through the dancers, looking for what had upset her. Uncle Jason leaned in close as a lilting polka began. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Now that she’d stopped running, Deborah began thinking. If she told Uncle Jason and Caleb what had happened, they’d be disappointed in her and furious at the Third. Now that she was calming down, she realized the Third wasn’t to blame. If he knew.... He still wouldn’t know unless.... She stared through the dancers toward the door, unable to see any sign of the Third.

Having alarmed them, she had to tell her uncle and Caleb something. “Two drunks stumbled out the back door. One of them was very — rude, but another man who heard him came along and made the two of them go away. It’s all right. I’m all right. I panicked, but I’m fine now.”

Caleb had abandoned his search for danger in the crowd and returned in time to hear her. She ignored the pinch of guilt. She wasn’t lying. Not really. It had happened exactly as she said, just back in the spring, not tonight. Setting Caleb loose on a man who needed a cane would be much worse than twisting the truth a little.

“Come on,” Caleb said, taking her by the arm and ignoring her slight flinch. “Your sisters are out there somewhere dancing, but Norah and your aunt are over by the refreshment table. You’ll feel better after you tell them about it.”

Deborah nodded and watched a path open up in front of them. Being fussed over now wouldn’t be so bad, and Uncle Jason would be quick to take her back to Miriam’s if she hinted at wanting to go. Her heart still pounded wildly. The Third. Why couldn’t he have been the college boy of her imagination?