Four of a Kind: A women's historical fiction (41 page)

“No, Thomas, I—”

“Don’t argue. Do as I say. You’re my fiancé, aren’t you?”

“Well, I don’t know, Thomas. That’s something we need to discuss, isn’t it?”

He pulled me down to where he intended me to sit. He wrapped his arms around my waist and looked up into my eyes. “Don’t look so disheartened. I still want to marry you. You’re a free woman now.”

“Mr. McCorriston?”

“He sent the documents last week.”

“Last week? This is my life you’re holding, Thomas!”

“I know very well what I’m holding,” he said and squeezed. His eyes heated in that sensuous way of his.

“Thomas, don’t toy with me.” I attempted to get up.

“Sit still. We need to talk.” He held on firm.

“I’m listening.”

“Oh, so I’m to begin, am I? This is unusual. Fine.” He gave my arm a light kiss. “Let’s set a date, shall we?”

“A date for what?” I said coyly.

“You know damn well for what,” he said.

There were questions running through my mind that I wanted answered, like why did he wait so long to tell me the news of the annulment? But to query him might only dampen his fervor toward me and I had done enough of that before now. I took a deep breath and relaxed. I returned his gaze and let his warmth come in. I smoothed his hair back, looking closely at the gray and blond strands, the gray undeniably taking over like weeds in a garden.

He backed his head away. “Don’t look too close at this old man, or you’ll change your mind.” He pulled my chin down so that I would meet his eyes. “You do realize that I’m twenty years older than you, don’t you?”

“That much?” I pretended surprise. Mocking Mary Sue’s southern drawl, I said. “Then I reckon I’ll have to call you daddy.”

He laughed good-naturedly and squeezed me hard. “Ah, there’s the Bess I know. Your spirit seemed strangely stifled here lately but it has miraculously re-emerged.”

“All it takes is a caring hug, Thomas. Women are not so mysterious but you should know that, being the world-traveled reporter. You certainly are talking like a reporter. ‘Spirit miraculously reemerged’? Is re-emerged a word?”

“Don’t doubt a world-traveled reporter.” He flicked his thumb under my chin. “If you want a report, here is mine. ‘Bess Wright, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Robert Wright, has gladly, ecstatically, blissfully agreed to be the obedient wife to Mr. Thomas Pickering of 18 Pickering Lane. Her address was mysteriously not disclosed. The joyful wedding date is set for Christmas Day, in the year of our Lord, nineteen hundred and twenty.’”

“That’s only two weeks away!”

His business mask surfaced straight away and his hold around my waist relaxed. “Because we should be married before the election. People are beginning to question our relationship, for obvious reasons. My dear old opponent, George, made matters worse today. He made some disparaging remarks on the radio. I suppose you haven’t heard – I must buy a radio for this old house. But you’ll read about it tomorrow.” He paused and held firm to me again, as if tensed I might run away. “He claims I’m having an extra-marital affair with a married woman.”

“But how can that be, Thomas? I’m the only woman you’re seeing, right?” Thoughts flashed. He sent me out of his office to work here. I only saw him at dinner. I narrowed my eyes. “Or am I?”

Thomas chuckled. “He’s talking about you, girl.”

“
Me?
We’re not having an
affair
. How extremely vulgar on his part. And I’m not married. Well yes, I suppose I could have been considered married, though I certainly don’t look at myself that way. Oh my goodness, Thomas, did he give my name?”

“Not right away. At first he only referred to you as my assistant. But of course when asked who that was, he gave your name, yes. I think he enjoyed the suspense of it all. Luckily, or unluckily, he only knew your maiden name.” He looked away, likely not wanting to see my head explode.

“
On the radio?
But oh my heavens, no one
knew
I was married and now
everyone
in town knows? Papa. He listens to it constantly. Now he and Mama know. How did George find out?”

Thomas shrugged, more I think to shake off my horrified stare than to show nonchalance. “Who knows? We work around nosy reporters. They can smell a secret. Maybe one was nosing around my office while you and I were talking. Walls have big ears in a newspaper office. I should have been more discreet, but I trusted my own staff. I hope whoever ratted, got a tidy sum from George.”

He shifted my dead weight on his legs. I sat slumped - heavier with the weight of the world now on my shoulders. He cleared his throat. “I owe you an apology. If it weren’t for my running for mayor, this would never have leaked out.”

I turned straight ahead and stared at a shelf of books I had at one time coveted; Rousseau’s
The Social Contract
(‘Man is born free, and everywhere he is in chains’), a collection of poetry and ballads by Robert Burns (
‘My love is like a red red rose/That’s newly sprung in June;/My love is like the melodie/That’s sweetly play’d in tune.’
)

My love. Here. Not wanting him to see my disappointment, I waved a shaky hand at him. “Oh Thomas, that’s not your fault. My supposed marriage is what has probably ruined your chances to win.”

“Yes, I know. I was hoping you’d get around to thinking my way.”

“What?” I turned to retort, but seeing his roguish grin return, I gave in to a laugh of my own.

“So, you owe me,” he said. “You have to marry me now, to clear up both our names. We won’t be able to face family and friends if you don’t.”

I watched his lips and those crooked teeth on the bottom and wondered why - the top ones were straight. I loved that mouth and what came out, and that grin that made me feel playful.

I sighed and leaned against him, laying my head on his shoulder. I examined the gold buttons on his vest contentedly. “I must go out tonight. But first I only want you to hold me.”

“Go out? Where to at this hour?”

“Mama and Papa must be wondering about my marriage. I need to go explain.”

He pulled out his pocket watch. “It’s past nine. It’s too late now. You can go tomorrow.”

I took this from his fingers and touched the gold engraving.
Love cannot be measured with time. It is forever. Your loving wife, Cady.

I pushed away the green-eyed monster. It seemed the more I cared, the more this monster sat between us. I switched my thoughts to my own past. “Billy sent me a watch on a wrist band from overseas. These bands were issued during the war so the servicemen wouldn’t lose them. I’ve seen some men wearing them since. Perhaps I’ll buy you one someday.”

“This pocket watch works perfectly,” he said and returned the gold disk to its vest pocket. “Billy, eh? Have you let go of your dead war hero? An ace pilot is something to be proud of.”

“I’m not sure I had him to begin with. I never claimed ownership, although at times I regretted that. Billy was just always … there, in some form or another. Somehow this kept me attached for the longest time, knowing I could travel into the great unknown but have that line to guide me back. We all need something to hold, don’t you think? But eventually Billy dissolved into thin air. Long after he died. When I realized this, I took the watch to his parents; they are the ones who are proud of him. They were far more appreciative than I to hold a time piece that had once wrapped Billy’s wrist and absorbed his pulse. His mother listened to the ticking
with her eyes aglow as if she were hearing his heart beat. I didn’t give them his letters though – I burned those. That was my way of letting go.” I wanted to add,
Could you do as much, Thomas?
but held my tongue. I was comfortable in his arms and didn’t want to be pushed away.

Holding my tongue was the right thing to do. He held me tighter and lifted my chin to his. His kiss grew intense, his lips and tongue exploring and demanding. His breath and mine rushed and mingled and our nostrils flared for more but I dared not part with his mouth. I sucked and nibbled like a hungry lamb on a teat. His hand caressed my … well, he’d gone over the line and I was too heated to care. I felt his physical longing and my curiosity grew with it. I grew vividly aware of it all. To absorb his desire and give it back – was that love-making? I dared not ask; he would think I was far too presumptuous. We are not married, I reminded myself, and my immodesty may alarm him

“Bess, I want you,” he whispered into my ear. “Would you—”

“Mr. Pickering, would you—”

I snapped to attention and stood up at the same time that Thomas pushed me. I stumbled a little as I brushed down my skirt. I had not the nerve to face toward the door where Mary Sue stood, but saw enough from the corner of my eye. I also spotted Thomas folding his hands across his lap to hide his bulge. I was mortified. Such an act of intimacy to be seen by such a young girl! Kissing – in his lap! I had not shared my engagement with her or anyone, waiting until the annulment was final. Any announcements before that seemed to smell of bigamy.

“Now I know why you left my daddy,” Mary Sue said. Her voice was cold, monotone.

I turned to face her but she wasn’t looking at me; she was staring at Thomas with an open hurt on her expression.

“Mary Sue, Thomas and I are only recently engaged. I told your father I wished to be free to marry.”

“You’re going to get hitched?” she asked Thomas.

“You and Lizzie will be the first to know, as soon as we finalize a date for the marriage ceremony.” He stood up, obviously more
suitable now to do so. “Bring your arithmetic to the back parlor. I’ll see if I can’t make it easier for you.”

Excusing myself, I was decidedly relieved to have a task on hand to keep my hands occupied. I walked up the stairs to remove the bedroom sheets Lizzie had asked for. Until truly exhausted, I would not be able to sleep well tonight. There were too many questions banging around in my head wanting release. Thomas had mixed so much of good and bad emotions with black and white, in true reporter fashion, that all looked gray to me.

The slippers I had changed into muffled my approach to the back parlor. The bundle of sheets still in my arms, a scent of urine wafting to my nostrils, a hint of something more burning my ears, I stopped short before entering.

“But why do you have to marry her?” Mary Sue’s voice came through in a higher pitch than normal.

“Keep your voice down, girl! There goes your education if Bess hears you talking this way.”

“Why won’t you answer my question?” Her tone had turned down to soft.

“Because, little one, the answer should be obvious. She is a dear friend.”

“Friends don’t make babies. Lovers do. She’s too old for babies. I’m not.”

I clamped my hand over my mouth to quiet my gasp of air. A pillowcase fell from my unraveling bundle. I stood nailed to the floor awaiting his answer. There was silence for a few moments.

“Mary Sue, this love you say you have for me, well I don’t believe it. You miss your father and I am that father figure. You’re also missing home and I perfectly understand homesickness for the south. That’s why I go down there quite regularly. You’re also sixteen and should be dating boys your own age. I meant it when I said I loved you back, but not like this. I love you as a daughter or niece. That’s
what we will do!” He said as if he had a bright idea. “You may call me Uncle Thomas. How’s that?”

Another silence and then a muffled sound like two people –

“Do daughters kiss like that, Mr. Pickering?”

“Where did you learn that,” he muttered.

“From a boy down the holler from me. I’m not as young as you think I am.”

“I suppose studying arithmetic is out of the question now.”

I heard rustling of papers and a chair scoot on the wood flooring. I attempted to back away but my legs were lead.

“Don’t go, Thomas!” she loudly whispered. I dropped my load onto the floor and stepped forward, drawn like a moth to the fire.

“I will go, young lady,” he said, his voice low, his tone blessedly scolding, “and you will go to bed and we both will forget this conversation. You are an attractive girl and I don’t need any more frustrations than I already have. Remember that or Bess will not fill your head with matter, but have it on a platter!” He chuckled. “Not bad, eh? Chin up. Sit up straight. Give me that pretty smile of yours. That’s a good girl.”

“Will you kiss me goodnight?”

“You’re a stubborn lassie, aren’t you?” I heard a peck. “There’s a kiss on the cheek for my little niece. Study hard. Nighty-night.”

He almost ran into me as he came out into the hall, placing his hat on his head. His finger went to his lips to keep me quiet but there was no risk of that; I could only stand as a stone statue and stare at him. He took me by the hand and led me down the hall to the entrance way and outside to the front porch.

“You heard?” he said, still in that low tone of voice he used with her.

I nodded.

“She’s just a homesick little girl, Bess. Don’t look so stricken. You must pretend you don’t know anything. The school year is only two weeks away and once she is in school and meets boys—” He squeezed my elbow. “You’re not taking this seriously, I hope. You look pale in this moonlight.”