Purling Road - the Complete Second Season: Episodes 1-10 (6 page)

“Oh? What’d they say?” Aryl asked.

“There’s one relative they have to get in touch with before the adoption can go through. They seem to think it won’t be a problem. It’s his great aunt. She’s old and penniless.”

“You’d think if she’d wanted him, she’d have claimed him by now,” Aryl said.

“I don’t think it will be a problem, just a delay.”

“Is Jean excited?”

“A hundred times over. Not only to have a brother, but one close to his own age… I think he’s more impatient than we are to bring Eddie home.”

“And Ava’s had time to get used to the idea?”

“Hell, it was her idea. Initially, she thought I was crazy. When we visited the orphanage to talk to Mr. Everly, she saw him. She was the one that started the paperwork.”

“That kid has to be the luckiest kid in Boston. Well, in a Boston orphanage anyway,” Aryl said. “I’m happy for all of you.”

“Lucky? I don’t know about that. I’m barely making ends meet. I can only give him the basics, but—”

“The basics are better than what he has now. What about your brother? How is he?”

“Doing well.” Jonathan dug a letter from his back pocket. “He’s been writing to me.”

Aryl opened the letter. It was written with an uneven hand, messy and childlike, but readable.

“It still breaks my heart. So many times I’ve tried to imagine what he’d be like if he weren’t…” Jonathan searched for the right word. All the names they had for people like Jeffrey broke his heart, even more than looking at the childlike writing of a grown man.

Aryl folded the letter and handed it back.

“I just wonder what happened, you know? Did my mother eat the wrong thing? Did she work too hard? Did she take a medicine she shouldn’t have?”

“There’s no way to know why these things happen,” Aryl said. “But it seems to me that without his… problems, he’d be a lot like you. You said he liked math. He probably would have followed in your footsteps. You probably would have brought him to New York, even before you brought us. And he—”

“Would have suffered the way we have,” Jonathan said. “It’s pretty bad when you consider that his life might be the easier path. At least it’s been steady, if nothing else.”

Aryl shrugged. “It’s endlessly debatable. But I’m glad you found him.”

Jonathan brightened. “I am, too. I got a letter from his parents as well. They’re going to try to bring Jeffrey out for a visit.”

“It would be nice if you were able to bring Eddie home first.”

Jonathan smiled. “My house will be near to bursting with family.”

“Well, that’s something you’ve always wanted to give Ava, right? A great big family?”

They heard raised voices coming from the house and both turned their heads. Arianna and Caleb were having a heated exchange.

“Did you notice Caleb’s had a permanent frown all morning?” Jonathan asked.

“I think he’s under a lot of stress to get this house finished.”

Jonathan shook his head. “I think he and Arianna are having trouble. Ava told me about some comments she made and a young stocker at the store she’s flirting with.”

“I think it’s more to do with Ethel than anything else.”

“I don’t know. I sense it’s something more. I think maybe Arianna—”

“Are we gossiping like old ladies?” Aryl asked with a teasing grin. “If Caleb needs help with anything, he’ll ask.” He pointed to the finished foundation of the house as evidence.

He looked over and saw Claire pacing the porch. She most likely needed to go inside but wouldn’t until Caleb and Arianna settled down. She smiled. Aryl smiled back and then waved for her to come over and sit with him.

***

Muzzy didn’t sit down to read her daily mail until late that evening. The printing press whirred in the back room, pushing out page after page of tomorrow morning’s paper. Peter, who had just served up a simple but delicious stew, was taking the bowls back and pouring coffee. She opened the first letter.

Dear Muzzy,

It has become clear that your affections are no longer in my favor. I’ve heard the talk about you and Peter around town. I took you at your word that he was staying in the front room and only for a few days. It appears he has settled in.. I came by last week to deliver articles for the week and saw him through the back door cooking breakfast. Shirtless. It seems the whisperings are correct.

I do not wish to challenge your new interest. I am an intellectual, a non-violent peacemaker. While I won’t fight for you, I am sorry things didn’t work out between us.

Unfortunately, I will not be able to provide articles any longer. I hope this doesn’t inconvenience you, but in delivering them, I would end up seeing him, and this would salt the wound. I think this the only solution, as I must focus all of my attention on my novel.

I wish you the best with your paper and career.

Harold

Muzzy grimaced, shielding her eyes with her hand.

She sighed, folded the letter, and stuffed it in her bottom drawer.

Slumping in her chair, she stared at the wall mural.

“Way to go, Muzzy,” she whispered.

“What’s got you down?” Peter asked, handing her a cup of coffee.

“Harold bowed out.”

“Why?”

“Because of you. Were you aware the town is talking about us? About you living here?” she asked.

Peter adjusted in his seat. Squirmed was more like it. “Ian warned me about something like this happening. I’m so sorry, Muzzy. The last thing I wanted to do was ruin your reputation or hurt your business.”

“When did Ian talk to you?”

“Last week.”

“And you didn’t say anything to me?!”

“I thought you knew. That’s what you do for a living. You poke around, talk to people. You know everything that’s going on in this town.”

“Unless it’s about me! People aren’t going to talk
about
me to my face, Peter!”

“I’m really sorry.”

Muzzy held her head, sliding down in her seat.

“You should be. If you had said something earlier, I never would have released that article a few days ago coming clean to the public. Now do you know what I look like?”

Peter cringed.

“A rebel. In every sense of the word. I wanted to be an inspiring innovator, a smart, savvy businesswoman who could be admired and looked up to for her strength and work ethic. But throw this in the mix—” Her hand waved frantically in Peter’s direction. “I just look like someone who is determined to smash everything society dictates, throw morals out the window, and poke my finger in the eye of all the old conservatives—and to hell with the consequences!”

Peter was silent. Not because he didn’t have anything to say, but because her passionate rant had completely distracted him. While he was fairly certain his feelings for Muzzy had grown past friendship and gratitude, now he knew. Like the last piece of a complicated puzzle snapping into place, he knew—and his heart practically leapt out of his chest and landed in her lap.

In her anger and frustration, she dropped her head on her desk, thumped it a few times, and groaned.

Suddenly, and for the first time in his life, how he felt didn’t matter.

He pushed out of the chair. “I don’t want to make this any worse for you. I’ll leave tonight.”

Muzzy swiped the rest of the mail off her desk. “Where are you going to go, Peter?” She tore open an envelope. “Oh, wonderful. Another bill.” She tossed it aside.

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to be responsible for your business failing.”

Her eyes flashed up. “It’s not going to fail. I won’t let it. And I’m the only one responsible for it. Not you.” She shot up out of her chair. “I have to look a certain way to the public, but you want to know the truth? I don’t care what they say as long as they keep buying the paper. I’ve never cared about social norms. I couldn’t care less what they say.” Walking around her desk, Peter braced himself, not knowing what to expect. “I’ll fight anyone who tries to pry me from this seat and this building. They can talk all day long about where a woman’s place is, but my place is here, running my paper, forging my own way. I built this from nothing, practically with nothing, and I’ll be damned if some old biddies with nothing better to do than gossip are going to take it from me. You put a barrier in front of me, and I’m going to get over it or kill myself trying.” With her breath puffing, her eyes wild and determined, Peter was speechless again, staring. He knew there was only one thing he could do. He lurched forward, grabbed her tight, and kissed her.

He didn’t stop until she felt boneless in his arms.

“Why did you do that?” she asked in a shaky breath, looking up at him.

Something about her made him insecure. He couldn’t read her very well, something he wasn’t used to, and he lacked the confidence to outright ask her where he stood. Suddenly worried that he had grossly overstepped his bounds, he stepped back and flashed the sexy grin that had gotten him out of so many tough situations with women.

“I guess I figured instead of proving them wrong, we’d prove them right. Take the wind right out of their sails.”

She stared blankly.

“Or,” he said, lifting his shoulders, “I could just leave tonight.” He waited for her verdict.

She blinked a few times, shook her head, and went back to her seat.

“I’m worried about my business, but I’m not going to throw you out in the street.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “What about—”

“The talk? Hell, I don’t know.” She began to organize the rampant mess on her desk. “They’re already talking, and you leaving tonight won’t stop them. What’s said has been said and it can’t be unsaid.” She frowned as she tore a sheet from her typewriter and put it atop a good-sized stack of paper.

“And what’s been done has been done,” Peter said, approaching her desk. “And it can’t be—”

“It can be forgotten,” she said, looking up at him. “It can be forgotten, Peter.”

He held her eyes for a long moment and then nodded.

“Can you get me some coffee? It’s going to be a long night.”

“Your coffee is right there, remember?”

“Oh. Right. Well, it’s cold. Can you get me more?”

He smiled and held his hand out. She gave him the mug, and after he had left, she closed her eyes and threw herself back in her chair.

“Like hell you can forget that, Muzzy,” she whispered.

***

The next evening, Peter parked his bike near the back door. Muzzy’s bike was gone, out chasing leads, getting stories, peddling subscriptions door to door, or any number of things Muzzy did when she was running around town on her motorbike. He made a note to see if she’d be staying in all day Sunday. He wanted to give her bike a tune-up. He could hear the printer working hard beyond the door. He’d help her get ahead by folding and stacking them for tomorrow morning’s delivery. Untying his bag from the back of his bike, he slipped the strap over his arm.

“Hello, Peter.”

Peter knew the voice and stopped cold.

“What are you doing here?” he asked without looking.

“I can’t drop by to look in on my nephew?”

Peter scoffed. “You’ve never cared about me. You don’t even publicly acknowledge me. Then again, I’m not eager to link myself to Grant Hagan, clerk treasurer. Clerk… thief. So, tell me—how much money have you managed to skim from the city coffers?”

“That’s not why I’m here. I’m not worried for myself. I was reassured that Miss Brown is sniffing other trails, and in any case, I’ve hidden my tracks well enough.”

Peter turned to face him. “So why are you here?”

“Well, I’m a little concerned about the company you’re keeping.”

Peter glanced at the door of Muzzy’s building. “Oh, you mean her?” He set his bag down, widened his stance, and folded his arms. “What about her?”

“You never did make smart decisions, Pete.”

“Don’t call me that. My name is Peter.”

Grant laughed. “All grown up, are we?”

“You need to leave.” He swiped the bag from the ground.

“No, you’re the one that needs to leave… Pete.”

Peter’s jaw flexed and he turned around. “You are worried about your secrets, aren’t you?”

Grant flashed a tight grin. “You should be worried about yours. Does that cute little reporter know I sent you here to find out what she knew? And does she know why you went to prison?”

Adjusting his hand on the bag, Peter stared as Grant moved closer. “For the sake of both those secrets, I think it would be best if you found somewhere else to stay and distance yourself as much as possible from your reporter friend.”

Peter watched his uncle walk away. “I’m not leaving until she asks me to.”

Turning slowly, Grant grinned. “When she finds out your secrets, she will.”