All the Blue of Heaven (20 page)

           
Allie wandered back toward the dining room, the sound of Janey’s little voice
reaching all the way into the hallway. She paused near the portrait of her
brother, Matthew, and his bride. The gray tints did not give justice to
Eleanor’s auburn curls, or Matthew’s bright blue eyes. But their love was
there, in the gentle hand he laid on her shoulder, the tilt of her head toward
his. Allie felt her lips move into a small smile, even as sadness dropped a
veil over her heart. She saw no hints of a love like that between Thomas and
Louise, but that meant very little.

           
Any wife of his would be strong in her faith, bound to be a strong Christian
mother and support for her husband. Allie closed her eyes, briefly, pain
scorching through her like fire. She wanted to have faith, she really did. But
how could she reconcile with a God who had taken everything from her? How could
she trust Him again? And there was no way to fake that sort of faith, even if
she was cold enough to try. Thomas would know. Just as he knew when she
couldn’t sing in church. He was not a man to live in ignorance about his own
wife.

           
Allie rested her head against the wall, letting the sound of Janey’s chatter
fade away. She was so tired of struggling, so tired of being to everyone what
they wanted her to be. For a moment, her mind swirled with fear under a new
question. Did she even know what she wanted anymore? Her eyes popped open, gaze
fixed. Cold spread down her limbs as if she was being dunked in ice water. All
she could see ahead of her was years of pretending to be someone she wasn’t for
people who didn’t have to live with the consequences.

           
Please, Lord. I don’t know what to do.
With those words she stood up
straight, wrapping her arms around her middle. It was such a natural thing, to
talk to God as if they were friends. But they weren’t. Allie’s eyes filled with
tears and she choked back a gasp. She had never felt so alone.

           
A knock sounded on the door just feet behind her and she turned automatically
to open it, waving away a harried-looking Mary.  She swung it open to
reveal Thomas. He was the picture of health, wealth and prosperity. She
couldn’t keep her gaze from traveling from the jaunty gray hat perched on tidy
dark hair down his immaculate wool suit with matching vest to pressed trousers
to brightly shining shoes. And back up. She felt heat rushing to her cheeks as
she met his dark eyes, crinkled in mirth.

           
“Do I meet with your approval, or should I return at some later date?” His
voice was low and husky.

           
Allie gave herself a mental slap and pasted a bright smile to her features. “I
apologize. I was admiring... your―” What could she say? She was admiring
his fine suit, shocked yet again at the change from the poor young man she had
once loved. She did not think she could be more flustered as Thomas let out a
warm chuckle.

           
“That’s a comfort. I was not quite sure whether you were admiring, or debating
whether to grant me entry to the house.”

           
She resigned herself to not being able to explain away her words, so she opened
the door wide and motioned him in. “Please excuse me.”

           
Thomas stepped inside, removing his hat in one smooth gesture. “The postman
asked me to deliver this. We met on the road.” Thomas handed over a small brown
package, tied with twine.

           
Allie took it, checked the postmark, let out a gasp. “It’s from the Caffeys.”
She turned it over in her hands, feeling as if an old friend had arrived
without notice. “Janey was staying with them on the night of the earthquake.”
She glanced up at him, and then back down the hallway.

           
“Do you mind very much if I open it? There are so many things that Mama
disapproves of and I don’t wish to cause– ”

           
“I understand,” he said, grinning. He pulled a small folding knife from his
trouser pocket and slid open the tiny blade. “Allow me.” With a deft movement
he removed the twine and opened one end of the heavy paper.

           
Allie slid a square from the wrapping and stood, gazing at it.

           
“Do you wish to open it alone?” His voice was soft, wary.

           
Allie shook herself from her reverie. “No, it’s just that... I know what this
is.” She unwrapped the tissue covering, and unfolded the square. It was a small
piece of canvas, bright brush strokes seemed to bring the sun inside the dim
hallway. She glanced at the letter inside, and folded it again.

           
Thomas held out his hand and Allie passed the square to him. He held it out at
arm’s length, brows lowered. He put a hand to his chin, considering. “Not your
best work. But if this is what made you a fortune, I suppose you should stick
with it.”

           
Allie couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up. “Always the jokester.” The
smile faded from her face as she stepped next to him, looking at the crude
rendering of a man, a woman, a little girl and a four-legged creature that towered
over them. “Janey liked to use the linen canvas cast-offs for her own
masterpieces. This was her dream for our family. See my paintbrush is that
stick in my hand. And this is a horse that we keep in our apartment. He eats at
the table because he’s trained.”

           
He shot her a glance. “And the man?”

           
“It changed by the day. Sometimes it was the man who swept the street in front
of our apartment. Other times it was the local fish monger.”

           
“I didn’t know she liked fish so much.”

           
“She liked how he threw them around.” Allie smiled a little, remembering how
Janey would beg to stand at the market just to hear the men bark orders and
toss the fish from the holding to the front counters.

           
“She’ll be glad to get this back. It was thoughtful of them to send it.”

           
Allie sighed. “Very. But I can’t let Janey have it here. Mama is having enough
trouble with our past as it is. Janey doesn’t help matters when she declares
she’s going to be a famous painter, or singer, or dancer.”

           
His studied the painting for a moment, not speaking. “I am sorry for it. I
wish... I hoped she would be able to accept your success, eventually.” He
raised his eyes, searching her face. “May I keep this for you? When you’re
settled, you can have it back, put it up on display.”

           
Allie nodded. “Thank you. I don’t want to be secretive, or start trouble, or―”

           
“I know.” He carefully folded the linen into squares and tucked it under one
arm. “Don’t give another thought about it.” Those dark eyes gave her a careful
look. “But you did seem a bit out of sorts when you opened the door.”

           
“I probably was. I was in the middle of an argument when you knocked.”

           
“Argument? Has Mr. McGovern returned?” He lifted his head, and listened. His shoulders
straighten, hands coming down to his sides as if in readiness to defend the
women of the house. “But no, you would never have stood here chatting with me
if that drunkard was in your house.”

           
“Too right,” Allie said, smiling a little. She shoved away the warmth that
crept across her chest at the sight of Thomas preparing for battle, even if
there was no real threat. “I was just arguing with God. I forgot we weren’t
speaking.”

           
She wasn’t sure if he’d heard, his face still turned toward the dining room.
She moved to close the door behind him, shutting out the sun of the early fall
day, and throwing the entryway into shadow.

                                   
****

           
Thomas froze, feeling his heart pirouette in his chest. Arguing with God? She
said the words so lightly. He struggled keep from letting out a whoop of joy.
“I am sure the silence is more painful for Him than it is for you.”

           
Allie turned back to him and cocked her head, those bright eyes narrowed in
thought. He watched emotions flit over her face. Doubt, irritation, fatigue. He
wanted to wrap his arms around her and tell her to lay those burdens down. But
Allie was a strong woman. She would not want to be told what to do. He settled
for wishing, and waited to hear the argument that was sure to come.

           
“Maybe you are right.”

           That
was not the response he was expecting. Was Allie softening toward God?  “I
think it is harder to suffer a friend’s silence than to have an argument.”

           
Allie’s face turned a deep shade of pink and she glanced down at her hands, the
soft folds of her pale yellow dress under her fingers. “I’m sorry I never wrote
you. I was confused. After you went away and I thought... then you came back
and proposed...”

           
“That’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean to bring those days up again.” He rushed
to reassure her, wanting to smooth the lines from her brow. She had so many
trials, he did not want to be one more cause for anxiety in her life.

           
She nodded, looking relieved. “I would have written. I wanted to tell you so
many things. You would have loved it there, Thomas.” Her eyes flashed and she
stepped forward a few steps. He could smell her light perfume and resisted the
impulse to inhale deeply.

           
“Matthew liked to watch the freight ships come in to the harbor. We would go
very early in the morning, before the sun came up. The chaos was unbelievable.”
She let out a soft laugh and he could see the joy in the memory. “The men
tossed around crates of goods like children’s blocks. The sailors came from all
over the world. I never saw so many strange faces in all my life.”

           
“I would have enjoyed your letters, to be sure.” He smiled, imagining what it
would have been like to hear every detail of her adventures. “You miss it. How
bland Chicago must seem, with its staid buildings and industrial factories,
after living in such an exotic place.”

           
“I suppose.” She looked down at her hands again. “But it’s very different, I’m
sure, since the quake. The fire destroyed what wasn’t lost to the earthquake.
The tone of the city isn’t carefree any longer. It’s sad and bitter.” She refocused
on his face. “But I would not have written you, if we were friends.”
                    

           
“I’m sorry?” He wasn’t sure he had heard her correctly.

           
“That sounds odd. What I mean is that if we were still friends, then I wouldn’t
have refused you, and I never would have left, and I wouldn’t have been writing
you any letters.”

           
Thomas nodded slowly. “I see.” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “Do you
think it could have been different? That you could have gone to San Francisco
to study, and we also could have...” His voice trailed away. Why was it so hard
to speak the words?

           
“Been married later?” Her cheeks were flaming now but her voice was steady. “I
don’t know. I don’t know if I would have been so driven to succeed. Would you
have agreed to let me go?”

           
“As if any man could tell you what to do.”

           
“But you could have, if we were to be married.” Allie paused, as if deciding
whether to continue. “If we were engaged and you had asked me to stay, I would
have.”

           
“Really?” He couldn’t keep the surprise from his voice. All these years he had
figured Allie was a woman that would sacrifice her dream for no man. “But it
would not have been right.”

           
A small smile played around her lips, as if she liked his answer. “So you would
have said yes to San Francisco.”

           
Thomas laid the package and his hat on the hallway table and stuffed his hands
in his pockets. He dropped his gaze to the parquet floor, thinking hard. He
remembered his heartbreak so vividly. The months and years of despair haunted
his dreams. But he had trouble recalling what he felt when Allie talked of
studying in San Francisco. All he had felt was fear at losing her.

           
“I don’t know. Truthfully, Allie, I was a very selfish young man. All I cared
about was marrying you. Your dream came second.”

           
Her chin lifted in surprise and she shot him a dubious glance. “I don’t
remember it that way. You were my champion, in the years I struggled to paint
despite my mother’s wishes. You let me sit in your barn, sketching. You left
little gifts in the oak tree.” Allie’s eyes were soft as she spoke.

           
“I would search all day for some treasure to put in that old tree.” He felt a
smile spread over his face at the memory. “And I let you sit in the barn
because I wanted to be near you, even if I was mucking out the stalls.” He made
a noise in the back of his throat. “You probably associate me with the smell of
horse droppings to this very day.”

           
“I do not. But I do think of you when I smell hay and horses. Oh, I want to say
that your veterinarian enterprise is very impressive.”

           
Thomas felt his chest swell with pride. He was acting like a little boy,
desperate for approval, but he couldn’t help it.  Her opinion meant so
much more to him than any other. “Thank you.”  

           
“I suppose everything has worked out for the best, then.”

           
The warm feeling in his chest turned icy cold. “It has?”

           
Allie’s gaze shifted to the wall behind Thomas. “You are very successful. Maybe
it was best if we took separate paths.”

           
He stepped forward before he thought it through, grasping her hands. “Allie, I
would gladly surrender everything I have if it meant we could return to the
past.”

           
Her lips parted in surprise, her gaze searching his face. He watched her
struggle to understand his words. Her eyes dropped to his lips and he felt a
warmth travel from his chest outward, down his arms, to their joined hands.
“You don’t mean that,” she said, her voice barely more than a breath.