Always (35 page)

Dorcas didn’t give Emily a chance to respond. “I want to help! I want to do letters!”

“Letters?” Emily repeated, puzzled.

“She wants to set type,” Marguerite clarified. “All of four years old and she wants to be a printer like her pappy and Aunt Emily. Remind you of anyone?”

Emily laughed and knelt down to look her niece in the eye. “When you learn your alphabet, you can help me put the type in their proper compartments, all right?”

“And I want to run the press!”

“Not just yet. Right now, Mammy needs your help and your mama needs to rest, so why don’t you help dust, then I’ll let you help me load paper into the press.”

Dorcas appeared unimpressed with this less-than-exciting proposition but agreed. “All right.”

Emily stood. “Good girl.”

Just then, the door bells jangled, and Emily turned in time to see Melissa sweep inside. Out of breath and with her bonnet slightly askew, her friend appeared flushed and windswept.

“Good morning, Mrs. Winters. Karen. Dorcas.” Melissa nodded at each of them hurriedly, then crooked a gloved finger at Emily. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“Let’s go to my office,” Emily said, handing Karen the print orders and leading the way as her mother took Dorcas’s hand and they set to work. “You look like it’s something important.”

“It is,” Melissa responded. “Quite urgent.”

“What is it?” Emily asked as she closed the office door behind them.

Melissa fumbled with the strings of her handbag. “I spoke with Karl Becker.”

“Yes, I saw,” Emily said, leaning back against her desk and folding her arms. “What did he want?”

“He asked if he could come call, and he also asked me to go to the Fourth of July celebration with him in a couple of weeks. This is the second time he’s approached me. I turned him down about going riding in his buggy once before. He has such a rakish reputation, you know, but now I... I just don’t know what to do.”

“Do you want to go?”

“I didn’t believe so at first, but then he said something that left me, um, rather unsettled.”

“And what was that?”

Even though they were alone in the room, Melissa leaned close in a confidential pose and whispered, “He said that his loins burn for me.”

Emily stared at her. It was a struggle not to laugh out loud. “Really? He actually said that right out on the street?”

“Yes, according to him, they’re virtually afire every minute of the day.”

“Good heavens. That must be terribly uncomfortable.”

“He said he can barely sleep at night, and that amorous thoughts of me are interfering with his work,” she added, her cheeks glowing bright now.

“And what did you say?”

Melissa fluttered a nervous hand through the air. “Well, I didn’t know
what
to say! I was aghast. None of my beaux ever said such shocking things before.”

“Perhaps they were just too bashful to speak of it aloud,” Emily offered, trying to be practical.

Melissa frowned. “I tend to think not. I never gave Elwood’s loins much thought, mind you, but its rather difficult to imagine them afire under any circumstances whatsoever.”

Emily thought back to what she could remember of her friend’s former beau, a bespectacled college student, and had to concur. “You’re right. Elwood seemed much more passionate about his studies than womanhood in general.”

“Yes, but that certainly doesn’t seem to be true with Karl.”

“No,” Emily agreed, “it certainly does not.”

“What do you think I should do?”

“I don’t see any harm in allowing him to pay a few visits, and why not accompany him on the Fourth? One thing is certain, you won’t be bored, and you might even have some fun.”

“Fun?” Melissa blinked at her as if the very concept were unheard of.

“Yes, fun.”

“But he’s so bold and... and dangerous.”

Emily raised a skeptical eyebrow. “That didn’t seem to bother you before. If I remember correctly, you had a crush on him when we were twelve.”

Melissa colored again. “But we were just children. All children want what they can’t have, and Karl was exactly that. The one boy I could never have. What did I know of love then?”

What do any of us know of love?
Emily thought. She was the wrong person for Melissa to turn to for advice. The only man she had ever loved was due to walk down the aisle with another woman in less than a week. She didn’t voice these doubts but instead pointed out, “You could have had Elwood or any of the other fellows you wrote to me about, yet you didn’t marry any of them because you didn’t truly love them. That’s what you said in your letters, right?”

“Yes, but I don’t understand what that has to do with this.”

“It may be that you will finally have your chance with Karl. How does that make you feel?”

Melissa frowned. “Very unsure and, to be honest, a little afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

Melissa let out a sigh and looked at the floor. “Afraid that if I allow myself to fall in love with him, he’ll leave me for another woman. He has such a wicked reputation that way. I don’t think I could bear that. Why take the chance?”

“Because perhaps Karl has finally grown up. He’s got a very good job, and he seems serious about making a success of it. Perhaps the love of a good woman is the final ingredient he needs to help plant his feet firmly on the ground.”

“The love of a good woman?” Melissa appeared to consider this. “Do you think so?”

“There are no guarantees, of course.”

“Fun,” Melissa whispered. Her eyes seemed to lose focus as she pondered her options, but then she brightened and smiled. “Perhaps it’s time to take a chance, after all.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

It was almost an hour after his confrontation with Malcolm when Ross arrived at the Winters Print Shop. He would have come directly, but he’d had one stop to make first. He wasn’t about to make another mistake; he’d come prepared this time.

“Ross!” Emily’s sister appeared shocked from where she sat behind a receiving desk near the door.

“Good morning, Karen,” he said as he surveyed the shop. “You look radiant, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

Today this place was a far cry from the deserted shell he’d found the night he’d followed Emily from the
Herald
office. Sunlight streamed in through the open windows to reflect off immaculate wood and metal surfaces. A summer breeze wafted through the shop, but not even that could completely eradicate an underlying odor of turpentine and wood polish. Marguerite Winters and Karen’s young daughter Dorcas hadn’t yet noticed his presence. They were busy chatting as they cleaned tables in the back.

There was life and movement and vitality here once again. A pulse. But this time it was Emily’s spirit and determination that drove it.

“Do you want to place an order?”

Ross forced his attention back to Karen. She’d recovered from her initial surprise. With her lips pursed, she cocked an eyebrow and regarded him as if he were a cow patty on her parlor carpet. “Engraved wedding invitations, perhaps?”

“Very perceptive of you,” Ross replied. He knew he would have to make his peace with Karen over time. He just hoped Emily would give him that time. “Keep an order sheet ready. Where’s your sister?”

“She’s not—”

“I’m right here.”

Ross looked up to find Emily standing by the foot of the stairs with an unopened crate in her arms. She wore a soiled printer’s apron over her dark dress, her sleeves were rolled up, and her hair was half up and half down. There was a huge ink smudge on her nose, and she was sweating. She looked beautiful.

“What do you want?”

“I came to get a job.”

“You came to get a what?”

“I quit the
Herald
.” He shrugged. “Or I was fired. I suppose it depends on whose viewpoint you take.”

Emily stared at him.

Taking advantage of catching her off guard, Ross approached. “Malcolm’s not real pleased with me right now. It might have something to do with the fact that I broke my engagement with his daughter, but that’s all water under the bridge. Now it looks like I’ll be needing a new job.”

Ross stopped and took the crate from her. She was still watching him, assessing his words, and by now, he sensed that Marguerite and Dorcas as well as Karen were assessing him, too. The place had grown unnaturally quiet and expectant.

“You see, I need a job real soon,” he continued, “because I intend to make a down payment on Phares Hockstetter’s place. After all, a man can’t propose to the woman he loves unless he knows he can provide a decent home for her.” He paused and nodded to the crate he held. “Where do you want this?”

“Over there,” Emily said, pointing to a worktable. Ross took it over to the table she indicated. He smiled and nodded at Marguerite and Dorcas, who stood observing the proceedings with respective ill-concealed amusement and childish curiosity.

“Good morning, Mrs. Winters.”

“Good morning, Ross.”

“Good morning, Miss Miller.”

“Morning, sir.”

“Well, you can’t possibly think you’re going to get a job here!” Emily blurted.

Ross turned to face her. “Why not? The way I see it, I’ve got some money invested in this place. That means I have a direct interest in its success.”

“You certainly do
not
have money invested in this business.”

“Oh, I most certainly do. Or are you forgetting that hundred-dollar loan I made a while back?”

“And that’s all it was!” She jabbed a finger at him. “A loan. I’ll pay you back in full.”

“Oh, no you won’t.”

“Oh, yes I will!” With a defiant toss of her head, she spun around and headed for the job press.

Ross followed her. “No, you won’t.”

“Oh, ho, ho! I most certainly will!”

“Won’t.”

“Will!”

“Children,” Marguerite interrupted gently, “please think of the example you’re setting.”

Both Ross and Emily turned to see little Dorcas following their exchange with round, eager eyes.

“Sorry,” Ross said.

Emily was less contrite. She waggled a finger at her niece. “Mind you, Dorcas, men operate under the misguided assumption that they are always right. It is our God-given duty as women to point out to them that this is rarely the case.”

She gave Ross a pointed look, then turned her back to cross to the nearest composing desk. She pulled out a drawer of type. “You seem to have forgotten, Mr. Gallagher, that I already made one payment on that loan.”

“Ah, yes,” Ross said, reaching into his pocket, “glad you reminded me. I’ve been meaning to return this ever since you dropped it on my floor the other day before we—”

“Stop!” Emily’s cheeks flamed scarlet as she charged the short distance between them to snatch the greenbacks he’d produced. Stuffing the bills into an apron pocket, she lowered her voice to a tight whisper. “Have you lost your senses? My family is listening!”

“What’s the matter? Afraid they’ll force us to marry if they find out we—”

“Stop!” Emily clapped a hand over his mouth.

“Then marry me,” Ross said, though the words were muffled into her palm.

“Outside,” Emily said from between set teeth. Her tone was dead serious, but any authority she hoped to display was ruined by the huge ink spot on her nose. “We will continue this discussion outside.” She removed her hand from his mouth.

“Em, you’ve got a—”

“Outside!” Turning, she struggled to untie her apron strings as she moved toward the back door.

Ross followed, wincing when she tried to tear the uncooperative garment off over her head but got it stuck on her elbow. She yanked and muttered something unintelligible as it tangled in her hair, then she flung it backward to smack him in the face.

The door creaked open then slammed hard enough to rattle the washstand mirror on the wall next to it.

Ross pulled the apron off his head and grinned at Marguerite. “I love it when she gets like this. I’m probably the only one, though, right?”

“Yes,” she replied, “you probably are.”

Ross winked and tossed the apron to Dorcas, who caught it with a giggle. He went outside to find himself standing in a small courtyard that separated the print shop from the rear of a three-story brick hotel.

“Over here!”

Ross looked to see Emily waiting with folded arms by the corner of the building. A second later, she vanished into the narrow alley off to the side. He followed her.

“What are you trying to do?” she demanded when he appeared around the corner. Her skirmish with the apron had loosened her chignon completely, leaving most of her hair streaming down her back and over her shoulders.

Ross smiled. “I told you. I came for a job.”

“Do you find this humorous?”

“Not at all. I’m very serious. I quit my job. I also broke my engagement. I want you to marry me.”

“Just like that?”

“Well... yes.”

She poked a finger at his chest. “You break off with Johanna one minute, then traipse over here and propose to me the very next. How convenient. Have you checked on whether Father Carpenter is still available next Saturday?”

“No, I haven’t.” He reached up to capture her hand before she could pull it away. “But that’s an excellent idea.”

“Very funny.”

“I don’t mean it to be funny. I want to marry you, Em. It’s been a long time in coming, and I don’t see the point in wasting any more precious time, do you?”

“Yes!” she replied, trying to yank her captive hand free. “I mean, no! I won’t do it. Who’s to say you won’t change your mind again? You did once before. Then what?”

“I won’t change my mind,” he assured her, wrapping his free arm around her waist and bringing her hard up against him. She wasn’t happy about it, as evidenced by the riotous look in her eyes, but she sure felt good to him just the same. “And if you need proof,” he added, “try this.”

Oh, she wanted to kiss him, all right. Ross could tell by her surprised little gasp and the instant, almost imperceptible relaxing of her body against his, but she sure as hell wasn’t about to admit it. A split second after his mouth came down on hers, she clamped her lips together. Tight.