Forbidden Love (30 page)

Owen shifted his position, wanting her as never before. Lost opportunities taunted him.
Last winter, and a play at the
Alvin
Theater
, seeing Lisa there . . . a raging blizzard, a stay overnight at the Hunters.
Oh, to turn back the clock . .
.To
have her in his arms now.
And when she had stayed at his house and nursed him after his injury, when she had come into his bedroom.
So close, so close!
they’d
come to making love. But she, a married woman, was untouched, and he mustn’t violate her chastity, not until she was his own. Would that day ever come? Would she ever be his wife? Day after day and night after night, he wondered if his dreams would forever remain out of reach.
 

Chapter Twenty

October came, bringing drizzly rain and falling temperatures. Lisa pressed her forehead against her bedroom’s cool windowpane and peered at the gray, hazy day where light raindrops misted the pane, turning the houses across the street into vague shadows.

She wrenched away from the window, determined to settle the problem of her marriage once and for all. She couldn't continue to live with William, could no longer endure this parody of a marriage. One frantic idea after another churned in her head, obscuring her sense of reason. Tempted to scream, she decided to look over her jewelry, see how much money she might gain from her fine pieces. She would leave William and find a house for herself, a place where Owen could come see her as often as possible, with no fear of social disapproval. She’d tell her neighbors she would visit an aunt in
Philadelphia
, and only her housekeeper and Elizabeth and Lawrence would know the truth.

She hated this deceit but what else could she do? Her husband had left her with little choice. Just thinking about William made her head pound and filled her mind with despondent thoughts and recriminations, with a yearning for what might have been.
If she had only met Owen first, if she hadn’t been desperate for money to save her mother’s house.
She should have opened her own shop, as she’d suggested to her mother. And she certainly should never have worried what friends and neighbors would think if she earned her own money. So, she would make up for past mistakes and leave her husband, be free of his upsetting presence. She would find a place for herself and Owen.

But how can I resist him when we’re alone?
she
wondered, her thoughts taking her to undreamed of heights, to passionate kisses and lovemaking, to intimacies she could only imagine. How wonderful lovemaking would be with Owen, she thought, wanting him now, this very moment, more than she’d ever thought possible. A rush of warmth washed over her, a desperate need for her beloved. She ached for him and had to brace herself against her dresser, so weak she feared her legs would fail her. She raised her hands to her breasts and caressed them as images of Owen and memories of his touch taunted her. Taking a deep breath, she sank to a chair and strove to drive her yearnings from her mind, because for now, they would gain her nothing.

She looked out the window to find that the rain had stopped and a slow sun paled the sky. Well, she couldn’t sit here all day, she resolved, rising from the chair. Better to accomplish a necessary task.

Relieved with her decision, she retrieved her garnet choker from her jewelry drawer. How much would this fetch? She held it under the lamplight, turning it this way and that to admire the glitter of its crimson beads. She'd tend to that transaction tomorrow, but she had to visit shut-ins today. Clasping the jewelry drawer in both hands, she frowned. Something appeared amiss with the arrangement of her jewelry boxes. Never a stickler for neatness, just the same, she kept her boxes in order. Now it seemed that something was out of place. Perhaps a piece was missing? What piece?
Her opal pendant?
That was it! Where could it be? Frantically, she rummaged through the boxes but didn’t find it. After looking one more time, she sank down on the bed and closed her eyes in concentration, but no answer came to her. Forget about the monetary value–and that was substantial–it had been a gift from her father on her eighteenth birthday. She pressed her hands to her eyes and wanted to cry, with the question of its whereabouts still unresolved. And if the missing opal pendant wasn’t enough of a quandary, she had another problem she must deal with. William would be coming home tomorrow.

* * *

Owen slid his chair back and gazed out his window, arms folded across his chest. After countless minutes, he sighed and turned back to his desk, resting his head in his hands. He thought of his dream of becoming a civil engineer. He wondered if he’d ever achieve his goal, considering all the problems that threatened the Amalgamated and him, personally. What if he never regained his job? What if he had to dip into his savings just to get by from day to day? Oh, to be sure, the union provided living expenses for those who’d lost their jobs, but he agonized over how much longer that money would last. Despair and anger swelled inside him, a fierce combination that made his head pound, his hands shake.

He slammed his fist on the desk. Damn that Frick! The son of a bitch union buster!

Striving for calm, he rolled his desktop down and rose to get a book from his glass-fronted bookcase. He twisted his back from side to side, his muscles cramped from sitting so long. He raised one of the glass doors and withdrew
Houston
's
Principles of Soil Mechanics
. Maybe some day he'd teach himself civil engineering. A foolish plan, perhaps, but it wouldn't hurt to be prepared . . . .

 
The sun was sinking low in a hazy sky when he returned the book to the case. Leaning against the case, he sighed, his murder trial a constant fear. What if the jury found him guilty? He could face death, but a bleak future stretched ahead for Lisa. Even if he didn’t get the death penalty, how would he and Lisa manage if he got life in prison? He couldn’t expect Lisa to stand by him, even if she would be willing.

Memories of Lisa drove all other thoughts from his mind, his beloved, the only woman he’d ever wanted or ever would want. He closed his eyes, recalling everything about
her,
all the dear and tender traits that made him love her so. He remembered her smile, her touch, that sweet voice of hers that he could never tire of hearing. Everything about her made him want to sing for joy, that this woman had come into his life and that her love matched his. If she were in his arms now, he’d kiss her, caress her, feel her warm breasts and know that no other man had ever touched her as he had, that no other man had ever known any of the joys her body promised.
To have her with him now, to hold her in his arms.

He opened his eyes to face desolate reality again, to realize that Lisa might never be
his, that
he might die before they could ever bring their love to fruition.
Lisa, Lisa, I don’t want to live my life without you.

No jury in
Pennsylvania
would find him guilty, he convinced himself. He was innocent, damn it! The jury wouldn't--

A loud knock on the front door startled him out and sent him rushing downstairs. He opened the door and stared, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. A uniformed policeman faced him, an envelope in his hand.
God, almighty!

 
Distress was plain on the policeman's face. "I have a warrant for your arrest, sir."

"My God!
What is it this time?"

Owen stepped onto his front porch and read the warrant.
"Treason!"
A cool breeze rippled his cotton shirt and lifted his dark hair from his forehead as he tore the envelope open. "How in God's name can I be charged with treason?" he demanded as he glanced up from the paper. The sick feeling
intensified,
a fear that he would spend the rest of his life in prison, if he wasn’t hanged! His hands shook, a muscle twitching in his jaw.

Staring down at his shoes, the officer shook his head. "I don't draw up the warrants, sir. I only deliver them." He looked neat and professional in his dark blue uniform, his silver badge glinting by the setting sun, but he shifted from one foot to another. "I'm sorry about this, sir."

"Of course."
Owen touched the man's shoulder. "Not your fault." Silent for a long moment, he gave the officer a careful look. He tried to calm his frantic heartbeat and clenched his hands at his side to stop their shaking. “Don’t tell me I’m the only one who’s been charged with treason.”

.
“No, sir.
I’ve delivered several other warrants here in
Homestead
.” The policeman shuffled his foot on the porch, glancing up and down the long row of frame houses.

“All right,” Owen said with a nod. “I’ll turn myself in shortly, as soon as I take care of some business.” He tried to give the impression of nonchalance, to act as if nothing had changed, as if life would continue as normal.

"Very good, sir."
With a nod, the policeman turned away and descended the stairs.

Owen stepped into the parlor and shut the door, his appetite gone. What had prompted this new, inexplicable charge? He dashed upstairs to his bedroom, taking the steps two at a time. After grabbing the dictionary from his bookcase, he leafed through the pages.

Treason, according to Webster, was an attempt to overthrow the government. No surprises there. He snapped the volume shut and returned it to the bookcase, as perplexed as before. Someone surely has an active imagination, he fumed, and most likely that someone was Frick. He returned to his pacing and kicked a wastebasket, sending the contents spilling onto the floor. And what was the penalty for treason? He'd ask the Amalgamated attorney, first chance he got. Murder, now the treason charge! I’ll be lucky if I get out of this trouble with my life, he agonized. He bent over to return the wastebasket contents, crumbling each paper and hurling it back in the basket. God Almighty! He’d like to get his hands on Frick! He’d kill the bastard.

How would he explain this to Lisa, and when would he see her again? Better to tell her of this new charge before she read it in the newspaper. More than anything, he wanted to inform her in person, but
when
would he see her again? He missed her with a physical ache, longing to hold her in his arms again, make love to her.

The wind picked up, flapping his lace curtains but cooling his heated face. Forcing
a calmness
he didn’t feel, he sat at his desk to write a letter to Lisa, one of the most difficult tasks he'd faced.

Chapter Twenty-one

For a long time, Lisa had changed her bedtime hours, going to bed much later and oversleeping in the morning, her means of avoiding William. Once up, however, she always managed to keep busy with the children at the orphanage or visiting friends and shut-ins, all the activities she enjoyed. In truth, she'd kept busy lately, not even taking time to read the newspaper.

Today she'd talk to the manager of Bailey Banks and Biddle, she decided, shimmying up against her pillow. She pushed long strands of hair from her face and tucked them behind her ears, reminded of her last time with Owen. Closing her eyes in dreamy remembrance, she recalled the touch of his fingers as they wove through the locks.

He'd held her close and whispered in her ear. "You have such beautiful hair."

"I wish my hair were a different color," she'd said, "auburn, or even better, blonde."

Owen ran his fingers through the locks, letting the silky hairs slip through his fingers like sand. "I love your hair the way it is," he’d said, then kissed all her doubts away.

Stop
daydreaming,
Lisa reprimanded herself as she swung her legs out of bed. Fired with resolve, she straightened her nightgown and crossed the
Aubusson
carpet to her chest of drawers. Opening one jewelry box after another, she searched for her pearl choker. If the manager of the jewelry store gave her a good price for the choker, she'd take some other pieces to him at a later date. Shoving the boxes this way and that, pushing other boxes aside, she looked for the choker. She couldn't find it! First the opal pendant, now this! She raised her head from the drawer and thought hard.

When had she last worn the piece? Ages ago! She slammed her hand down on top of the chest.
Where was it?
Only one answer--someone had taken it.
One of the servants?
No, all the servants were honest and loyal. William, then, she thought with a sick feeling in her stomach. Who else would do such a thing? Determined to stay calm, Lisa clutched the drawer and took long, deep breaths.