American Pie (19 page)

When his lips burned against her skin, she could think of nothing else. For an instant she pressed against him and forgot everything but the lean hard length of his body molded against hers. She could feel the strength of his thighs through her skirts, the muscles swelling on his arms. Her breath quickened in her breast and to calm herself she tried to remember what they were discussing.

"A woman isn't allowed to give the future a little nudge?" she murmured, her eyes closing as she raised her mouth.

His kiss drew the strength from her limbs and left her feeling shaken and helpless. This then was passion, this feverish yearning for something more than stolen kisses in a dark doorway. This longing to fulfill an emptiness hitherto unrecognized. The depth of her need frightened her.

"Dearest Lucie," he murmured against her mouth. "The future is not your responsibility." That he could continue their conversation indicated he too straggled for control.

As he spoke his hands tightened on her waist in a grip that was almost painful, and she tried to focus on what he had said, wondering suddenly if they were still speaking of Stefan and Greta. One thing was certain. She didn't agree a man must shoulder the future alone. Not in America. Not in the land of equality where a man and woman could stand together. Surely Jamie didn't believe her sole duty was to stand aside and wait.

She would have asked, but he kissed her again and again, and the tiny alarm of warning fell silent. Their conversation, interspersed with passionate kisses, turned to the conversation of lovers everywhere. When did you know? How long ? Have you loved before? And they whispered the words again and again.

All trace of the snow had vanished by Saturday. When Jamie locked the shed the night sky was clear and cold, hidden behind the soft glow of Broadway's new electric street lamps.

"Finally man has conquered the night," he observed to Stefan as they examined the electric lamps before they turned away from the brightness and walked toward the Bag and Boodle.

"There's a future in electricity," Stefan commented as he carried their pail of ale to the table Jamie had located.

"Aye, the time will come when night will be banished all over the world." Jamie accepted the glass of ale Stefan poured. "Have you been watching the electric men at the site?"

"They claim they don't know how electricity works. Maybe they're feigning ignorance to keep their jobs secure."

The ale was cool and strong and Jamie sighed with pleasure. "I don't think anyone knows. I've been reading on the subject. If you're interested, I'll give you a list of library titles."

Leaning backwards in his chair, Stefan rubbed his eyes. After a moment he looked at Jamie and shook his head in frustration. "No, I don't want to spend my life stringing wire. I don't know what I want to do." He turned a moody face to the window.

"You're good at what you're doing now."

"I don't share your love for construction. I've watched you, Jamie Kelly. No perfume on earth is as seductive to you as the tang of wood shavings. To you that building we're building is a living thing with a life and a character. I've seen you so wrapped in the prints that you forgot your lunch, watched you stand on the first floor and stare up at floors that don't yet exist. I don't feel those things. To me it's a job, that's all."

"You haven't found the right thing yet. It will come."

Stefan looked into his glass and a humorless smile curved his mouth. "How will opportunity find me when I'm nowhere near it?" Both men smiled. They had discussed this topic before and would again. Stefan cleared his throat. "There's something I want to say to you." He met Jamie's eyes and drew a deep breath. "Most of the men at the site objected to your promotion."

"I know." Comments had been made that he was intended to overhear.

"The men didn't believe an Irishman would be fair. I agreed with them, but I was wrong. You're doing a hell of a job as foreman, Jamie. The supplies are there when we need them, the crews are coordinated, we're back on schedule and you've treated the men squarely." A flush of color infused his cheeks. "I just wanted to tell you that."

"Thank you," Jamie said after a minute."You and Wilbur deserve most of the credit for making those things happen."

They drank in silence, each uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken. When the pail was empty, Stefan abruptly pushed back his chair and stood. "I have to be getting along. Lucie and Greta are waiting supper."

Jamie frowned at the sausage and pickled eggs. The pub food was filling and free as long as he kept buying drinks. But he thought of Stefan's home-cooked meal and nudged the tray aside.

When Stefan reached the pub door he paused and looked back with an expectant expression. Jamie lifted his glass in farewell, then raised his eyebrows as Stefan answered the salute with a scowl. He looked over his shoulder to discover if the scowl was directed at someone behind him. But Stefan's stare intensified on Jamie. He waited beside the spittoon, clearly expecting something and seeming annoyed that it wasn't forthcoming.

Jamie rose to his feet as Stefan wound back through the Saturday night pub crowd. "What is it? Is anything wrong?"

"Didn't you forget something?"

For a moment he didn't understand. He gazed at Stefan with a blank expression. Then he slapped his forehead and swore. "Good Lord." Pulling to his full height, he straightened his waistcoat, smoothed down his hair and cleared his throat "Mr. Kolska, I respectfully request your permission to call upon your sister."

"All things considered. Mr. Kelly. I wouldn't say no to it."

What he heard was the usual "no." He returned to his chair and was reaching for his pint before he realized what Stefan had said. By the time he grasped that a miracle had transpired, Stefan was pushing through the door.

Jumping to his feet Jamie threw some money on the table, grabbed his hat and dashed through the crowd, catching up to Stefan on the street outside.

"Good God, man," he shouted, gripping Stefan's broad shoulders. "Do you mean it? You're finally saying yes?"

"I'm saying yes." Grinning, Stefan clasped his hand. Then he leaned forward and stared hard into Jamie's exuberant expression. "But there's something I want to know. Have you been seeing my sister behind my back?"

The excitement faded abruptly from Jamie's eyes. "Aye," he admitted when the silence between them lengthened. "I love her." They stared at each other. "I accept full blame. I instigated the deception and I didn't allow Lucie any choice in the matter. Both of us deeply regret the necessity for deceiving you."

Stefan's dark eyes narrowed and his fists tightened against his sides. "You bastard mick! I should clean your clock, Kelly. I should pound you into sawdust."

A twinkle softened Jamie's answering stare. "Aye, that you should," he agreed firmly. "If I were you, that is exactly what I would do." He fell into step beside Stefan, matching Stefan's furious stride. "But I wouldn't do it immediately, like tonight. I'd take my time and plan my strategy."

"Where do you think you're going?" Stefan demanded as they crossed the street and passed beneath a sputtering gas lamp.

"Why, I'm going home with you so we can discuss when and where you'll clean my clock." Jamie grinned at him. "We can negotiate the details over supper."

Stefan stopped and blinked. "You're inviting yourself home for supper?" An exasperated smile spread beneath his mustache. "Jamie Kelly, the Irish were thinking about you when they invented the word blarney. Ifand I say ifI don't come to my senses and change my mind, Lucie will still be there tomorrow."

"Aye, but she's there right now, tonight. And consider this, Kolska. Before I commence serious calling doesn't it strike you as imperative that I learn if the lass can cook?" His grin widened. "I can uncover this vital information in an unobtrusive manner while we're discussing clock cleaning. Surely you agree common prudence demands that a man learn if his lass can stir up an oat cake."

Stefan threw out his hands. "Blarney. Utter blarney. I really should clean your clock."

Jamie's expression sobered. "I truly regret deceiving you, Stefan. I sincerely wish it could have been otherwise."

For a long moment Stefan said nothing. Then his shoulders rose and dropped in a gesture of resignation. "In your place I'd have done the same."

Greta adjusted the rag stuffing the hole in the window pane, then pressed her lips together and studied the geranium on the sill with an unhappy expression. "If I move it away from the cold, it won't receive any sunlight at all," she said uncertainly. "But if we leave it on the sill, it may freeze. I can't decide what to do."

Glancing up from the stove, Lucie smiled at her with affection. "Would it help if I move the pot to the table when I come home at night?"

Removing her glasses Greta absently polished them against her apron hem. "We could try that," she agreed. "I've cut two starter slips and placed them in water" After replacing her glasses on her nose, she leaned again to peer out the window.

"Greta Laskowski, you can't sit still tonight. If you're looking for something to do, bring in the butter."

"I'm watching for Stefan," Greta explained. After cautiously removing the stuffing rag, she reached through the broken pane and lifted the butter bowl inside. "I have news and I'm having a terrible time waiting for Stefan to tell it!" After placing the butter on the table, she stuffed the rag back to block the rush of frosty night air.

"What's your news?"

"I'm dying to tell you, but you'll have to wait. I want to tell you and Stefan together."

"I tell you all my secrets, you have to tell me yours." Laughing, Lucie chased her around the table, pelting her with a towel. "I won't stop until you tell me."

"Lucie Kolska, don't make me laugh, I'll start coughing again."

"You're already laughing. So tell me your news."

Greta paused behind a chair, coughed into her hand, then, when she had caught her breath, she looked at Lucie with shining eyes. "Well Mr. Church gave me a raise. Oh, Lucie, I'll earn ninety-five cents a day starting Monday! Isn't that wonderful?"

"Ninety-five ?" Lucie rushed to embrace her. "Greta, that's wonderful, congratulations!"

"If I don't increase my expenses, I can save fifteen cents a week. Think of it!"

"Or you can buy new winter boots. Or a felt toreador hat." They both looked toward the door as footsteps sounded in the corridor.

"Oh, my, look at us," Greta said, her hands flying to her head. "Our hair is falling down, and we look a mess."

Lucie laughed and touched her cheek. "Stefan won't care how you look as long as you're here and supper is almost ready." Stepping to the stove she reached for the supper plates on the shelf as the door opened.

"Oh, my!" Greta gasped, jumping to her feet.

"Lucie? I've brought someone home for supper."

She heard the astonishment in Greta's gasp, heard the smile in Stefan's voice. And her heart sank. The last time Stefan had brought someone for supper it had been Mr. Pachecko. The evening had proved an endless ordeal. Drawing a deep breath she squared her shoulders and slowly turned, dreading what she would see.

Jamie Kelly stood in the doorway behind Stefan, grinning at her expression. The gasp that sent her hands flying to her mouth, sent the supper plates crashing to the floor.

"Jamie!" Heat flooded her face with radiant color before she made herself look at Stefan. "Does this mean ?"

Jamie crossed the room in three strides and caught her hands in his. "Stefan has learned of our Tuesday trysts and he's rightfully enraged. He and I are agreed he definitely should beat me bloody." Another gasp broke from Lucie's lips and her eyes widened like dark pansies. "We're negotiating the whens and wherefores now." Lucie heard Stefan laugh near the door, saw him grin and shake his head.

For an instant she didn't understand, then she comprehended that somehow, in some miraculous way, they had resolved their differences. Disbelief widened her eyes, then, as the realization of what this meant filled her mind, elation illuminated her expression. She could not look away from Jamie's warm twinkling smile. It was so hard to grasp that he was actually standing where she had imagined him so many times before.

"In the meantime," Jamie continued, his eager brown eyes caressing her face, the chestnut strands floating about her cheeks, "I am permitted to call on you."

Closing her eyes, Lucie swayed on her feet, unable to believe what she was hearing. Surely she was dreaming. When she opened her eyes, Jamie still stood before her, gripping her hands and grinning his delight. She leaned to one side to look at Stefan who waited near the door, his arm around Greta's waist. They both smiled at her.

"Oh, Stefan," she whispered, blinking to see him through tears of happiness. "Thank you. Thank you from my heart!"

"This man, Kelly, is a blarney artist, not worth the powder to blow him to kingdom come," Stefan insisted, transferring his grin to Jamie. "I'll never understand why you want him."

Jamie laughed into Lucie's shining eyes. "With such a shiftless no-good brother, lass, I can't think how you turned out so fine."

Laughing and crying she walked into his arms and rested her forehead against his chest. Suddenly the room didn't smell of coal smoke and lamp oil and decaying plaster. With Jamie's arms around her, the stained brown walls seemed warm and intimate. In the emotion of the moment, she imagined she heard Miss Delfi's Gramophone playing a waltz in her ear.

Jamie must have heard it too because he bowed before her, then danced her around the table, gathering speed as Greta and Stefan clapped and cheered and her hem and apron strings flew out behind her. And in his warm smiling eyes, the eyes she could not look away from, she saw the future she had crossed an ocean to find.