Bicycle Built for Two (17 page)

Evidently, she was the only girl
in a family of boys. A violent, dipsomaniacal father, a sick
mother, two brothers and Kate. Quite a family. From talking with
Hazel Finney, Alex had learned that Kate had pretty much run things
for most of her life. That was a load of responsibility for such a
small thing. He couldn’t figure out why she was so dashed reluctant
to allow anyone to help her.

She stirred, and he leaned over, ready to
catch hold of her if she tried to bolt. He wouldn’t put it past her
to leap out of a moving carriage if she was still mad at him. A
small white hand lifted to her brow. Alex frowned at that hand and
that brow. She ought to be wearing gloves. Ladies didn’t go out of
doors without gloves. He wondered if she didn’t wear them because
she was stubborn and difficult, or because she couldn’t afford
them.

Her wrist was awfully tiny. He frowned at
it, too, thinking it was smaller than it should be, although he
didn’t have vast experience with ladies’ wrists. He wondered if she
skipped meals. Probably. Young women always seemed to be obsessed
about their weight. Kate Finney didn’t appear to have any extra fat
on her at all.

Visions of a couple of the young women he’d
grown up with flitted through his mind’s eye. He hadn’t paid a
whole lot of attention to them, since he hadn’t been in the market
for a wife, but he didn’t recall them being all sharp edges and
spikes, as Kate was. His own sister, Mary Jo, was nicely
rounded—too nicely, he sometimes thought. All of the other females
he knew were softer than Kate Finney, in speech, attitude, and
shape.

As long as Kate was immobile, Alex decided
to examine her more closely. She always seemed to be in motion when
they were together. She never allowed herself to relax in his
company. Dash it, why weren’t her brothers more involved in their
mother’s care? Mrs. Finney had given birth to all her children;
surely, it shouldn’t be Kate alone who cared for her.

He’d managed to work up quite a fit of pique
against Kate’s brothers, when she stirred and moaned softly. Her
eyelashes fluttered. Because he couldn’t seem to help himself, Alex
reached for her hand and held it gently in his. “Are you all right,
Miss Finney?”

She moved, as if she were going to try to
sit up. Alex tightened his hold on her hand. “Don’t shift around.
You fainted, and you shouldn’t sit up too quickly, or your head
will swim again.”

“No.” She gave her head a weakish shake.

“No, what?”

“No, I don’t do things like that.”

“Like what? Fainting? I can assure you that
I didn’t knock you out, if that’s what you’re going to say next.”
Dash it, she’d scarcely awakened, and he was already feeling
oppressed and picked-on.

She stopped struggling and again pressed a
hand to her forehead. “I didn’t think that.” She shut her eyes.

“Does your head ache?”

“A little. I feel sort of lightheaded.”

A suspicion that had occurred to him before
occurred to him again. “When was the last time you ate anything,
Miss Finney?”

“Ate? When did I . . ? Heck, I don’t
know.”

“We had breakfast this morning. Did you eat
again today?”

“Oh. Yeah, I remember that. It was
good.”

“Answer my question, dash it, and stop
equivocating.”

“I’m not! I don’t even know what that word
means.” She shut her eyes again. Before Alex could blow up, she
muttered, “I don’t guess I ate again. I think I forgot.”

Alex buried his face in the hand not holding
Kate’s. “Good Gad, Miss Finney, you’re a true piece of work, aren’t
you?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Kate said
sullenly. “Stop holding my hand.”

Alex obliged, although he didn’t want to.
What was it about this infuriating girl that stirred all of his
gentlemanly instincts, anyhow? She certainly didn’t appreciate
them. She didn’t appreciate him. Be that as it may, he found
himself again leaning out the coach window and directing a command
to his driver. “Take us to my hotel, Frank.”

“What?” Kate’s shock propelled her into a
sitting position.

As Alex had anticipated, her abrupt change
of altitude made her head swim. She uttered a small cry, pressed
her hand to her head, and leaned back against the cushion. “Nuts.”
Her voice had sunk to a whisper.

Irked—Alex knew exactly what she feared from
him, and he resented it—he said, “Don’t fret, Miss Finney. I don’t
plan to ravish you. The only place where it would be proper for us
to eat together this late in the evening is the restaurant in my
hotel, so that’s where I’m taking you.”

“But . . .” She didn’t finish her sentence.
Perhaps she’d begun to think sensibly, although Alex doubted
it.

“No buts. You need to be fed, and I’m going
to feed you.”

She turned away from him. Alex presumed from
this that his expression was rather forbidding. He didn’t alter it.
This was the first time Kate Finney had been too weak to fight him,
and he aimed to cling to any advantages, however slight.

“You don’t have to do that,” she murmured
after a minute.

“I don’t have to, but I’m doing it.” He
leaned over, took her chin in his hand, and turned her face so that
he could look her in the eyes. “Dash it, Miss Finney, are you
trying to kill yourself? What do you suppose will happen to your
family if you don’t take care of yourself?”

“That’s what Madame said.”

“As well she might. And what did you answer
her?”

“I didn’t.”

“Well, it’s about time you thought about it,
young woman. Your mother needs you.”

“She doesn’t. She’s got you now.”

“For God’s . . . I don’t understand you,
Miss Kate Finney. If you think for one minute that I would be a
satisfactory substitute for you in the eyes of your mother, you’re
even more daft than I took you for. And, before you ask, I already
thought you were about the craziest specimen I’ve ever come
across.”

She frowned at him. “Nuts.”

“It’s not nuts. It’s the truth. You’re
absolutely infuriating. One minute you’re telling me you don’t need
any help, the next minute I find your mother languishing in the
Charity Ward of Saint Mildred’s, the next minute I meet your
brother, who’s trying to invest what little money he has to help
your family, and the next minute, you’re fainting at my feet for
lack of food. Now you tell me. Is that crazy or not?”

“Not,” she muttered, but she didn’t sound as
if she meant it.

Alex let go of her chin. She didn’t look
well to him. His health, always robust, had accustomed him to
thinking little about health in general. His life, unlike Kate’s,
however, wasn’t fraught with challenges other than those he
encountered in his farming business. His challenges were plentiful,
but not especially dire.

Kate’s entire life looked dire from where he
sat. Kate Finney shook up his notions about life in general, as a
matter of fact. Her existence in his world had rocked his serenity
and buffeted his complacency. Dash it, she was worse than a thorn
in his side. She was more like a broken leg. Or a violent
toothache.

But he was getting away from the present
problem. “That’s not the point. The point is that your mother needs
you more than she needs me or anyone else in the world. It has
become painfully obvious to me that you’re about the only person in
your family with a brain and a modicum of common sense,
although—”

“I am not!”

Alex squinted at her. She looked as if his
words had stung. Curious. “You’re the one who bears all the
responsibilities,” he pointed out.

She sucked in a breath. He expected her to
use it to revile him. Therefore, when she spoke after hesitating
for a few seconds, her words surprised him.

“That’s not fair to Walter and Bill, Mr.
English. They aren’t very good with sick people, but they both help
a lot with food and rent and stuff. And they keep a watch out for
our father, too. That’s the most important thing anybody can do at
the moment.”

“Is it? Do they?” Alex was glad to hear it,
although he opted not to withdraw his condemnation of her brothers
until he learned more about them. So far, the only thing he’d
noticed that either brother had done for Kate was make a few
investments.

“Yes, they do. Darn it, they’ve supported
the family for years. We all have.” She glanced away from him. “You
know good and well that our father’s no good. It isn’t fair, but
it’s the truth, and my brothers and I know it. We all pitch in, and
we have done forever.”

The more Alex heard about Kate’s father, the
more he disliked the man. “Isn’t there something the law can do
about your father, Miss Finney?” He didn’t soften his voice,
sensing that Kate would get mad if he indicated by so much as a
hint that he felt sorry for her.

She heaved a huge sigh. “Naw. They don’t
care. They might care if Ma was rich, but even then they probably
wouldn’t. They don’t like to interfere in domestic situations.”

“Domestic situations?” Alex could barely
wrench his teeth apart far enough to poke the two words out of his
mouth.

“Yeah. That’s what Sergeant Maguire calls
it. It’s a domestic situation, according to him. The home is
sacred, according to the Chicago Police Department. Never mind that
a father is a drunkard who regularly beats up his wife and kids.
They don’t interfere because the home is not the province of the
police department, or they say.”

“That’s absurd.”

“Tell it to the police.”

Alex didn’t inform Kate, but he intended to
exactly that. Dash it, the home might be sacred, but as far as he
was concerned Mr. Finney had violated his right to sanctuary. The
man was a brute and probably should have been drowned at birth, as
people did with unwanted kittens. Too late for such a merciful
solution now.

“But see here, couldn’t your mother get
away? Don’t you have relations that might have taken you in?”

Her eyes opened wide in mock incredulity. “A
sick woman and three kids? I don’t know if all of your relations
are as rich as you are, Mr. English, but mine don’t have room or
food enough to accommodate four more people. Not to mention the
fact that my father would probably come over roaring drunk every
night until they threw us out of the house in order to get some
peace.”

“I see.” Alex sat gazing at Kate and
brooding over life’s injustices. If one only looked at it, life was
merely life. It had no meaning, really. It was neither good nor
bad. It simply was. Life was what one was given to work with for a
number of years, and then it was over. It didn’t seem complicated
on the surface. It was when people started doing evil things with
the lives they were given that everything got confused.

“Stop staring at me.”

Kate’s voice, coming to him, surly, out of
the dark, made Alex realize he’d been watching her as he brooded.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to stare.”

She patted at her hair. Her hat had tilted
considerably during the past half-hour or so, either during her
struggle, her faint, Alex’s carrying her, or as she lay on the
bench. She pushed at it and fumbled with the brim. “Darn it.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Can’t find my hat pins.”

“Sit still. Perhaps I can help.” He moved to
the opposite bench and sat beside Kate, who stiffened. Irked, he
snapped, “I’m not going to do anything but try to find your dashed
hat pins, Miss Finney. What do you take me for, anyhow?” Ah, there
was one of the little devils. It was hanging, caught in a lock of
Kate’s pretty hair. He worked it out, trying not to pull. “Here’s a
pin. How many more are there?”

“There’s only one more.”

“Hmmm. I don’t see— Ah, yes! There it is.
Here. Hold still for a minute.” This one was still stuck in the
hat, but it wasn’t doing much good since that part of the hat
dangled from the ribbon tied under her chin. Alex got the pin
loose. “Here. I guess that’s it.”

She took the pin, and he moved to the
opposite bench. She looked ill at ease, and he wondered what her
problem was now.

“I’m sorry. Thank you.”

The two statements, uttered in a muted voice
and with humility behind them, hit Alex hard. He leaned over
slightly and stared hard at Kate. Her head was bowed, and her hat
sat in her lap. Her hands, one of them holding two hat pins, were
still and rested on the hat’s brim. She didn’t glance up at
him.

“There’s no need to apologize,” he said,
surprising himself. “And you’re welcome.”

Her head bobbed once. Alex decided the bob
had been intended as a nod. She still didn’t lift her head or look
at him. Nor did she rearrange her hat. Or her hair. It looked as if
it were tumbling from its pins. She really did have lovely hair,
thick and shiny. It was a lovely reddish-brown, and Alex would have
liked to see it unbound, in the sunshine.

He wondered what the sanitary conditions
were at Kate’s place of residence. He’d bet she didn’t have indoor
plumbing or running water. He’d never had to live like that
himself, and the thought of Kate doing so bothered him.

Her shoulders twitched once. Alex leaned
forward slightly. “Miss Finney?”

She shook her head but didn’t speak. Good
Gad, she wasn’t going to faint again, was she? “Are you feeling
ill?”

Again, her head shook once.

It wasn’t until he heard a muffled sob that
Alex realized she was crying. Kate Finney! Crying! He could
scarcely credit it. Reaching for her arm, he said urgently, “Miss
Finney! Please, Miss Finney, don’t do that!” He hated it when women
cried at him. And Kate Finney, of all people. Crying.

He couldn’t’ stand it. With a lunge, Alex
moved to Kate’s side of the carriage. With another lunge, he threw
his arms around her. “Please, Kate, don’t cry. Everything will be
all right. Truly, it will. I’ll see to it.”

For only a moment, she tried to pull away
from him, but he was too strong for her. At last she collapsed in
his arms, sobbing as if her heart would break. Alex felt absolutely
awful. He did, however, realize somewhat to his shock, that he’d
meant exactly what he’d said to her. He was going to make
everything all right for her or die trying.