Circled Heart (29 page)

December rolled in with bitterly cold temperatures and a frigid wind off the lake that forced several women to the Anchorage for shelter. As Hilda predicted, space became the most valuable commodity we had to offer, any kind of space that provided warmth and protection from winter’s first full-force attack. We put up cots in the hallways and in the classrooms.

Despite all the pitiful stories and sad situations, I was unable to stir up my usual feelings of outrage and anger. Instead, I went about humming Christmas carols under my breath. The phenomenon carried over to home, where Crea gave me a knowing, devious look whenever she caught me humming a subdued chorus of “Joy to the World.” I knew the world was full of needy people and injustice and corruption abounded, but I couldn’t help myself. I was simply happy and unable to work up righteous wrath about anything.

Crea appeared happier, too. Letters appeared for her at least once a week. She would stuff them into her pockets with a fake frown, pretending they were a nuisance more than anything else, but I was never fooled. On one occasion I posted a return letter for her.

“Peter asked for some ideas about Christmas presents for Mrs. McIntyre,” she explained quickly as she handed me the envelope. “I thought it would be rude not to answer.”

“Crea, you don’t have to explain anything to me. You may send letters to every member of my family for all I care. When is he coming home, by the way?”

Without having to ask whom I meant, Crea answered happily, “He’s catching the train December thirteenth,” her face lighting up with anticipation. Then, perhaps thinking she had given too much away, she added, “As I recall, anyway,” and disappeared quickly into her room.

Jennie visited early in December to spend time with Grandmother and then joined me for a snack in the warm kitchen.

“Have you been under the weather, Jen? You look pale.”

“A touch of a cold, I think. My stomach’s unsettled and my head thumps for no reason. Yesterday Mother kept me in bed wrapped in layers of wool and drinking enough tea to float an armada. I feel a little better now.” She didn’t look better to my eye, her complexion wan and her eyes holding less sparkle than usual.

“Have you seen a doctor?”

“Now you sound like Mother. I don’t need a doctor.” Changing the subject, Jennie said, “Your friend Allen Goldwyn’s name was in the paper this week. Did you see it?”

“No. For what?”

“Apparently he’s involved in the restoration of St. Michael’s. The paper gave him credit for restoring the cathedral to its former beauty, especially the windows and their setting. The article said the refurbished church will be rededicated Sunday morning. I thought you’d know all that. Aren’t you and Mr. Goldwyn friends any more?”

“Of course, we are but he has a job and I do, too. We’re both busy.”

Looking at me over her teacup, Jennie remarked, “Really, Johanna, you’re learning to be very slippery and more like me every day. I’m proud of you. It’s obvious to me and anyone else with an ounce of perception that Mr. Goldwyn, poor man, has been replaced in your affections. If I promise not to tell a soul, will you tell me more about Drew Gallagher?” I didn’t like my cousin’s admiring tone when she said Drew’s name, in fact, felt an unbecoming twinge of jealousy and suspicion at her words. My reply came out too sharp for the occasion.

“There’s nothing to tell, Jennie. Why don’t you concentrate on the mistake your marriage could turn out to be?” I wished I hadn’t made the unkind, unwarranted comment as soon as the words were out of my mouth.

“I wasn’t trying to be nosy, Johanna.” Jennie spoke with a dignity that made me even more ashamed. “You’ve always been more like a sister than a cousin to me, and I really do wish you a happy life. I’m good with confidences, too. You’d be surprised.” She stood to go.

“I’m sorry, Jen, for being rude and bad-tempered. I’ve been on my own a long time and sharing private thoughts isn’t easy for me. Forgive me?” She smiled.

“Sure. You may be older, but sometimes I feel like I’m way past you in experience. I understand more than you give me credit for.” She gave a quick look at the old kitchen wall clock. “Now I’m late. Mother’s picking me up so I can be fitted for my wedding dress.”

“You didn’t tell me you set a date!”

“I had nothing to do with it. The Milfords have decided they can fit the occasion into their schedule the Saturday after Easter, March twenty-ninth. So who am I to argue?”

“It’s your and Carl’s wedding, Jennie. If you’re not happy with the date, pick another. Surely Carl will support you.”

“Carl is a Milford and as much under the control of his parents as I am of mine. Anyway, the date is all right. If anything, I wish it was sooner.”

Her comment surprised me. “Why?”

She was fastening the buttons of her coat so her head was down and I couldn’t see her expression when she answered, “Less time for something to happen that would ruin my chance to get away from my mother. That’s what I worry about.” She lifted her head and gave a laugh that was intended to give the impression she was making a joke. After she left, though, I remembered the look in her eyes and knew she hadn’t been joking. Jennie was unhappy and close to desperate. I wished I knew what to do for her but couldn’t think of anything that would be helpful. Christmas Eve, when the family was together, I’d talk to Peter. Maybe he’d have an idea.

I found the newspaper article Jennie mentioned and decided to attend the Sunday morning dedication at St. Michael’s. It was true that the bond of friendship Allen and I shared was not as close as it had once been, but I was still fond of him and truly admired his talent. My attending the ceremony would give me the chance to affirm my regard for him. Besides, I was curious about the windows.

“I’ll take the trolley home,” I told Levi when he let me off at the curb in front of the beautiful, old church, one of the few buildings that escaped the ravages of the great Chicago fire forty years before. Time and weather had darkened the exterior, but inside light poured into the sanctuary through the most gorgeous stained glass windows I’d ever seen. Coming in through the narthex, nothing prepared me for the startling effect of the windows’ vivid colors, a bright yellow that made the streaming sunlight almost unbearably bright, rich purple and scarlet, and especially a vivid turquoise blue that dominated each pane. All the walls and windows were refurbished, years of city grime scraped away and the muted orange color, which I had thought a curious choice when Allen first mentioned it, was exactly right as trim for doors and windows. He’d painted the walls a delicate, paler orange. The result was perfection. I sat in a pew along a side aisle and gawked at every corner as openly as a newcomer fresh off the farm. What was originally a beautiful interior was now something extraordinary, a landmark of renown to honor both the Creator and the city of Chicago and all due to Allen’s unerring, creative eye for form and beauty.

Although the service hadn’t yet begun, from the loft at the rear of the cathedral the organist played one of Bach’s concertos on a large pipe organ. For just a moment, I felt overwhelmed with beauty, surrounded by color and music that set my heart at rest for the first time in a long while.

The pew squeaked as someone sat down next to me and whispered, “Are you asleep?”

My eyes flew open. “Of course not,” I snapped. “I was meditating.”

“You know how I hate arguing with you,” Drew said, “but it really looked a lot more like sleeping than meditating.” I ignored the remark.

“What are you doing here?”

“You mean here specifically, or more generally, what am I doing in church?” The Bach concerto ended with a flourish of bass pedal.

“Either one.”

“I came to see your Mr. Goldwyn’s masterpiece.” Drew, holding his hat in his lap, looked around the cathedral. “The paper didn’t do the finished product justice. It’s glorious.”

“It is, isn’t it?” I agreed warmly. “All Allen’s ever wanted to do is create and construct, and he’s always had an eye for beauty, both in color and in form. Having the opportunity to work here must have been an answer to prayer.” Drew started to speak exactly when the organ started up again and I shushed him. “Could we just look and listen, please?” I asked, and he promptly crossed his legs and leaned back against the pew without another word.

After the service ended and people began to rise and leave, Drew and I continued to sit comfortably side by side.

“Is it all right if I talk now?” he finally inquired humbly.

“You have never needed my permission to talk, and I can’t imagine you’re going to start now.” But I spoke lightly, to tease. His presence was an agreeable surprise, and I was happy simply to sit beside him, an unexpected and unplanned pleasure that warmed my words. “What a lovely morning it was! There was something for practically all the senses.” I stood and he did, too, ever the gentleman. Through the crowd of people, I saw someone move quickly out the side door, a certain motion of the head and a streak of gold that looked familiar. “Is that Jennie?”

Drew turned, taller than I and more able to see over the heads of the people exiting. “Where?”

I hesitated. “Never mind. It must have been a trick of light. Jennie would have told me if she planned on being here today.”

We walked outside where the December wind greeted us with a gust so cold and forceful that I lost my balance for a moment and fell back against Drew. He steadied me but then kept his hand on my arm.

“Was Mr. Goldwyn in the crowd, Johanna? I didn’t see him.”

“No, I didn’t either, but he may have been. The sanctuary was packed.”

Drew offered obligingly, “I’ll wait with you until your driver comes.”

“Oh, I’m taking the trolley home,” I said and heard him make a sound that communicated both disgust and admiration.

“You really push good sense to the limits sometimes. I’ll take you home and don’t argue with me about it. It’s freezing out here. By the time the trolley arrives, you’ll be as stiff as Lot’s wife.”

“I never look back, so your comparison is flawed,” I pointed out but picked up speed to keep pace with his longer strides, not about to argue. Besides the extended enjoyment of his company, the wind seemed to have grown colder with the day, and I’d already regretted I hadn’t asked Levi to come back for me. I continued to shiver once we were in the automobile, even after Drew draped his wool topcoat over my shoulders.

“I hate this damp cold,” I admitted, “and it gets worse every winter.”

“Then you should spend the winter in Italy or the south of France, Johanna. There’s no sin in spending some of your fortune on yourself. You don’t do it all that much as far as I can tell. Why not spend a few weeks where the sun soaks into your bones, where the lush fragrance of lemons is everywhere, and colorful flowers cascade down terraced gardens?”

“You make it sound irresistible.”

“A villa overlooking the Mediterranean is more than irresistible.”

I pulled Drew’s coat more tightly around my shoulders. “Maybe I’ll take your recommendation but only to celebrate my first vote in a presidential election.”

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll be too old to enjoy the trip?”

“Not at all. I predict women will be voting within the decade.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Once in front of my house, Drew came around to walk with me up to the front door. “I’ll see you in a couple of weeks” he remarked casually. When I looked a question at him, he said, “Christmas Eve,” apparently assuming I knew what he was talking about. Another look at the blank expression on my face made him laugh. “Your grandmother invited me to stop by anytime that evening. I told her I wouldn’t think of intruding on your family’s holiday, but she insisted. Didn’t she tell you?”

“No.”

Just like her to spring it on me at the last minute again, I thought, but I couldn’t work up any pique. Having Drew around for any length of time would be welcome, both for his own company and as a respite from the emotions that seemed to swirl around the members of my family. Drew would be an impartial antidote to Peter’s unhappiness, Jennie’s reckless rebellion, Aunt Kitty’s gloating over the wedding, Uncle Hal’s ineffectual attempts to restrain both wife and daughter, and Grandmother’s frail health, a reminder of her mortality that caused a pang in my heart every time I saw her.

“But you don’t know what you’re letting yourself in for with my family,” I went on. “Surely you can think of other, more attractive plans for Christmas Eve.”

“Last year Fritz and I celebrated by sharing a bottle of whiskey.”

“On Christmas Eve?”

“Neither of us had family around and it seemed like a good idea at the time. In retrospect, however, I admit that a hangover on Christmas morning is in poor taste.” I felt a quick compassion for him but was careful not to show it.

“I’ll see if we can spike the Christmas punch if you’d like. I’m afraid you may find the festivities tedious, Drew, so consider yourself warned.” I hesitated before adding spontaneously, “But I’m glad you’re coming.” For no reason and completely unexpected by both of us, I stood on tiptoe and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “No one should be alone on Christmas Eve.” Whatever he expected, it wasn’t that casually affectionate kiss and some emotion changed his face, removed the slight smile that had been there and darkened his eyes.

“Johanna,” he began, but I didn’t wait to hear more. Instead, I said a quick thank you for the ride and hurried inside. I considered inviting him in but decided I’d thrown us both off guard enough already. I wanted to spend more time with Drew but perversely felt an odd relief once I was away from him. If what I felt was truly love, it was nothing like its description in popular novels. I was restless when I was away from him and even more restless when I was with him. How peculiar, I thought, and wondered if my reaction was the rule or the exception.

At supper that evening I said curtly, “It would be nice to know what’s going on in this house, Grandmother. I found out from Drew Gallagher that you invited him to join the family for Christmas Eve. Don’t you think that’s something you should have asked me about first?”