The Whiskey Tide (57 page)

     
"You could've been hurt bad out there," he said gruffly. "A boat's no place for a man don't have his mind on his work."

     
Joe could scarcely see, his shoulder throbbed so from the yank he'd given to free his arm when the net tangled. A second slower and he might have been jerked overboard.

     
"Worse than hurt," his uncle emphasized.

     
Joe nodded. A man who got caught in a net often got his head bashed against the side of the boat or one of the heavy poles that steadied the nets. The lucky ones ended up dead.

     
The concern of the Santayna men showed in the way they walked closer to him, as if to catch him if he fell or to shield him from further pain. It was salve to him, even if ineffective. The pain in his shoulder was nothing compared to that devouring his spirit in the week since Kate's unexpected words of rejection. The liniment which Irene lavished on him when they arrived home did nothing for that deeper torment, nor was its seepage slowed by the strips of cloth which Arliss wound around his cut and badly bleeding wrist.

     
"Could be you and Rita have had some words," Vic ventured clearing his throat. "If you have, whatever's wrong can most likely be put right."

     
Joe pressed his thumbs to his eyes, fighting tears like a kid. Arliss was watching him. He nodded mutely.

     
He couldn't tell Vic — couldn't tell any of them — that the anguish inside him had nothing at all to do with Rita, or that in the instant when he'd felt the net catch his arm, there had been a split second when he didn't want to struggle. The oblivion of death had seemed like a wonderful fate after Kate's rejection. But he had fought. He would wake up tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that, and without Kate none of it mattered a damn.

***

     
The part of Kate that still went through the motions of living surveyed the women who milled elbow to elbow at the opening of her mother's dress shop. She sighed softly.

     
"There must be a dozen people here I don't know."

     
"Some of them are people Mrs. Finer invited. She and Mama are becoming bosom friends." Rosalie held her chin aloft. Her cheeks were pink. Nudges and whispering had accompanied their arrival.

     
"You should have let me confess," Kate said with sudden vehemence. Her sister had been snubbed at the church circle where she'd volunteered so many hours. Arthur's mother was ignoring her. The arrest which their uncle had engineered and intended for Kate had ruined Rosalie's life.

     
"Nonsense." Rosalie forced a smile as Victoria Clarke, whose brother had introduced Arthur and Rosalie, minced toward them.

     
"Rosalie! We've all been thinking of you. Did you really have to spend the night in jail?"

     
Rosalie assured the tactless young woman she hadn't.

     
"It must complicate things awfully for Arthur, with pulpit committees looking him over just now," Victoria sympathized, though with whom Kate wasn't completely sure.

     
"It might have." Rosalie's voice became tight and raw. "Had I not relieved him of his commitment to me."

     
Kate's breath caught audibly. "Rosalie! You didn't break your engagement!
You didn't!"
Lost in her own unhappiness, she'd had no inkling of this. Rosalie had said nothing, given no warning to any of them.

     
"It was the only decent thing to do." Tears threatened Rosalie's eyes. She turned abruptly. Victoria melted away at once to spread the gossip. "It's just as Victoria said. All his preparation — all his dreams — and now that the time has come for him to find a position, what church would hire him knowing his fiancee had been arrested for delivering bootleg?"

     
"When—?"

     
"A few days ago. I wrote him a letter. Please don't make a scene, Kate. And don't blame yourself. It's wretched Uncle Finney's fault. And if I had everything to do over again, I'd
still
do everything I could to help you make those trips north!"

     
Rosalie whisked a lace-trimmed hanky at her eyes. Kate caught her hand in wordless sympathy. Her sister had set Arthur free for the same reason Kate had let Joe think her a snob, to spare him and give him a chance at happiness. Kate
did
blame herself for Rosalie's misery, but there wasn't time to dwell on it, for Aunt Helène and Ivy were bearing down on them. The least she could do was give her sister the chance to compose herself, so taking the role that was usually Rosalie's she greeted them.

     
"Well, what do you think?"

     
Kate didn't care, really. She cared about very little these days. Every morning she stumbled up. Every night she stumbled to bed. In between she did the sort of things expected of her. Still, she was pleased that the shop which Mama and Aggie had christened Genevieve's looked so attractive. Its racks invited browsing. Vases of delphinium and cupid's dart splashed the room with festive sprays of blue and lavendar. A white-draped table held silver trays of cookies and mints. Predictably, her cousin and aunt gushed compliments.

     
"But why did she
hide
this from all of us?" Aunt Helène was still hurt her sister-in-law had told her about the shop just a few days before sending out invitations. Mama had told her she'd sold part of her silver to finance the venture.

     
"There's Mrs. Kelly." Rosalie, steady of voice again, flashed Kate a meaningful look. "Her husband's a great chum of Uncle Finney's. I must say hello."
 
Aunt Helène wrinkled her brow as Rosalie crossed the room to greet a faded woman in an elaborate dress. "I can't think what she's talking about. We don't know any Kellys. I'm sure we don't."

     
Mrs. Cass, whose odious son Rupert had formerly been her brother's playmate, stopped to ask mincingly about Woody.

     
"Getting strong as a monkey. He's up the street with a friend, playing at their store."

     
Mrs. Cass looked startled. Whether at Woody being robust or at Kate not tripping over her tongue, Kate couldn't guess. The truth was, she was too upset over Rosalie's broken engagement to fret over social niceties.

     
Glancing about for Aggie, she spotted her at Theo's side. He was the only man in the store and by all appearances enjoying the role. He had been fitted two days ago for an artificial limb, but was still using crutches while it was made. Nonetheless, he appeared almost jaunty as he chatted with one of Mama's acquaintances who hadn't visited even once since Pa died.

     
"Kate, dear. What are you doing these days?" she asked. "Going to lots of tea dances, I expect."

     
"Actually, volunteering at the settlement house over on Turner Street until I can find a paying position. Today I helped two of the cutest little girls get rid of head lice."

     
"How... very interesting," the woman said weakly. As she moved away she prodded nervously at her hair.

     
Aggie was wide-eyed. "Kate, you didn't!"

     
"No, of course not. They're mostly quite clean. But I do wonder why it's taken me so long to realize fibbing ends silly chatter much faster than telling the truth."

     
Theo was laughing so he could hardly stand. "I've never seen you so wicked. Much better than your usual clam impression."

     
"It was practically rude!" Aggie protested.

     
"And you sound appallingly well mannered. Did you know Rosalie has broken her engagement?"

     
Aggie's falling face gave her the answer. "Surely...."

     
"Could you answer a question, dear?" A customer beckoned from a rack of dresses.

     
Aggie blinked free of shock. "I have to go."

     
"Why, in God's name?" Theo asked when they were alone.

     
"To spare Arthur. She thinks she'd be an encumbrance to him." Kate tried unsuccessfully to keep bitterness from her voice. She was glad Theo had no idea his stepfather's underhandedness had caused this calamity.

     
"The lettering on the window looks lovely," she said.

     
Her cousin looked pleased. He had happened to be in the shop when Mama met with a sign painter, and had intervened in her willy-nilly approach to choosing lettering.

     
"This fellow I was with in France worked at his father's advertising firm. He'd told me a bit about how you match the style to the product and should keep it exactly the same in your newspaper ads and stationery as on your sign."

     
"Aggie mentioned you'd said something like that."

     
"Fascinating, isn't it, that things like that can influence whether people remember a business? The New York operator managed to find Leo for me and we've had a couple of good chats. I'm going down next week. He's promised to teach me some more tricks."

     
Kate smiled. New enthusiasm livened his voice. She started away.

     
"Kate, wait." He caught her hand and swallowed awkwardly. "Thank you. For having sense enough to see we weren't right for each other, I mean."

     
They looked at each other a moment. The release she felt was bittersweet. In the milling crowd they leaned their shoulders together as in by-gone times, affection flowing freely, best of friends again.

     
Kate circulated, assuring herself that Rosalie had fallen into conversation with friends who were treating her kindly. With a stab it occurred to Kate that she herself had no friends at all. They had been left at school. Her only companions this past year had been rum-runners, and whimsical old Mrs. Cole. The emptiness at the core of her life seemed to swallow her.

     
After half an hour she couldn't face any more small talk. She slipped through the curtain that separated the work space at the back of the shop. To her surprise Arliss was there bent over her sewing machine, in her good dress.

     
"I'm sorry, I didn't realize you'd be back here." Kate felt she'd intruded.

     
Arliss smiled, however, her shyness lessening each time they met. "Your mother asked would I mind being on hand today. I didn't. It's quiet here. There are thirteen of us at home."
     
"Yes, Joe told me once. When we were arguing." His name slipped out, spreading pain before she could stop it.

     
"Arguing over us?"

     
"It was... more complicated than that."

     
"It would be with Joe, wouldn't it?"

     
She glanced shyly at Kate. They shared a tentative laugh.

     
"Joe can see six sides to anything," Arliss said with amusement. She clipped off a seam.

     
"He's doing fine, I guess?" That sounded normal, didn't it?

     
Arliss wore her hair in a neat twist at the nape of her neck. It shook in reply. She didn't look up.

     
"There's something bothering him. I don't know what. He almost got himself killed day before yesterday. Mind somewhere else, Dad said. Cut his arm up bad."

     
Panic fluttered in Kate's throat. "How bad?"