It Happened at the Fair (3 page)

“What if we have a passel o’ little ones? They gonna be too noisy fer ya too?”

He frowned. “Are you trying to start a fight?”

“No, Cullen. I’m trying to get a date. There’s four Saturdees in November. Pick one.”

His jaw began to tick. “I’ve had just about enough of people painting me into corners. I can handle only one corner at a time. Right now, I have to do this World’s Fair trip. When I get back, we’ll pick a date.”

She tightened her lips. “Well, I’m sorry. I didn’t know pickin’ a date would make ya feel like you’d been painted into a corner.”

Sighing, he dragged a hand through his hair. “That didn’t come out like I meant it.”

“What exactly did ya mean, then?” She propped a hand on her waist. “Do ya even want to marry me?”

“Of course, I do.”

“Then what are ya waitin’ fer?”

“I told you. We’ll set a date when I get back.”

She worried her lower lip. “What if ya meet some fancy city gal up there?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not meeting anybody.”

“Ya don’t know that.”

“I do know that.”

“Well, I think havin’ a date will make it a little harder fer yer eyes to roam.”

“My eyes won’t roam.”

“Prove it.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Prove it.”

“How?”

“Let’s have our weddin’ night. Right here. Right now.” Reaching up, she began yanking pins from her loose blond bun.

He tensed. “Stop that. For the love of Caesar, we’re in a smokehouse.”

“I don’t care.” Pins clattered to the floor and sailed across its bumpy surface.

He grabbed her wrist. “I care. I’m not taking you on this filthy brick floor in a smelly smokehouse where any one of your family can bust in.”

Breaking free of his grip, she continued what she was doing, her arms hiked up, her chest heaving.

He spun around. “I’m leaving.”

“No!” Scrambling up behind him, she launched herself onto his back.

He took an involuntary step forward.

She wrapped her arms and legs clear around him, hooking her ankles across his stomach, her wrists across his neck. “Please, Cullen.” She moved against him in an effort to secure her hold.

He sucked in his breath. “No, Wanda.”

She refused to let go.

He pried her feet loose, only to have them hook again when he reached for her arms. Back and forth they went until he lost his balance and they both tumbled onto the unforgiving brick floor.

He immediately rolled to the side. “Take the deuce, are you all right?”

Instead of answering, she pressed herself against him, kissing him as passionately as she knew how. But it was a maiden’s kiss. She had no idea there was any other kind. And that was his undoing.

A rush of love and protectiveness surged through him. Wrapping her close, he took control and for the first time taught her how a man kisses a woman.

She blossomed against him, pressing forward when he pulled back, her hands traveling everywhere. “Please, Cullen.”

He captured her wrists and brought them to his lips, then released her and stood.

She propped herself up on an elbow, her chest lifting with each breath. “Everybody does it, ya know. No one can believe we’ve been together this long and not done it.”

“The same ‘everybody’ who’s been making fun of you?”

No answer.

“Maybe it’s time for a new set of friends.”

She tossed her head, the last of her pins tumbling free. “Are ya worried ya might get me with child?”

“Among other things.”

“If that were to happen, I could just go up to Chicagy and we could be married up there.”

“That’s not going to happen because I’m walking you back to the house. Right now.”

Still, he didn’t go help her up. The more distance he kept between them, the better.

“Then when can we have us a weddin’ night?”

“When everything’s official.”

“And when will everythin’ be official?”

“The last Saturday in November.” There. He’d set a date.

Pushing herself to her feet, she plowed her hands into her hair and lifted it before allowing it to spill down her back and over her shoulders.

Sweet heaven above, it went clear beyond her hips.

Swallowing, he forced his eyes to meet hers. He wouldn’t be walking her anywhere. Not when she looked like that. “I’ll see you in November, Wanda.”

Her face collapsed. “Can I come up to see ya, at least? We could tour the fair together.”

“You’d have to have a chaperone.”

“Not if it were our weddin’ trip.”

Much as he wanted to comfort her, he stayed where he was. “Even married, it’d be too costly. The room Dad rented is on an all-male floor and is big enough for only one person. No refunds. No transfers.”

Biting her lip, she crossed her arms beneath her breasts, hugging herself.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “The time will pass before you know it.”

He strode to the door and reached for the latch, her words stopping him.

“That sprinkler system won’t bring yer ma back.”

He bent his head. “I’m not doing it for her. I’m doing it for Dad.”

He stepped out the door, then closed it behind him as gently as he could.

GRANDSTAND AND PLATFORM IN FRONT OF THE ADMINISTRATION BUILDING

“As soon as President Cleveland touched the key, every engine and piece of machinery in the entire fair would be set in motion.”

CHAPTER

3

Cullen flipped up the collar of his overcoat. Its gray wool blended in with moisture-laden clouds and offered a mite of protection against the raw winds. But in truth, he hardly felt the cold. He was still angry with his father. Still feeling guilty about the money. And still wishing he and Wanda hadn’t parted with an argument.

The only good news was Chicago didn’t have a cotton seed in sight and for the first time since the planting started, he enjoyed deep, cleansing breaths. Between that, healthy skin, and the energy of the people, he couldn’t help but be caught up in the excitement of the World’s Fair’s unveiling. Chicago might have many-storied buildings, roaring streets, and whirring cable cars, but all memory of it faded when Cullen beheld this temporary fairyland, this “White City” that his country had raised up seemingly overnight.

Crowds poured into the park like a stream of lava, overflowing all boundaries. People of every nationality and every age swarmed over the pier, across the viaduct, and onto the lakefront, all pressing toward the platform he stood before.

He’d been reading articles about the fair for three years now, but its magnificence was still a shock. The crowds coming to commemorate Columbus’s discovery would indeed find a New World. Only this one would be of iron, electricity, and American ingenuity.

AERIAL VIEW OF 1893 WORLD'S COLUMBIAN EXPOSITION

His fire sprinkler display, assembled and ready for onlookers, was like an ant among a city of giants—insignificant and easily overlooked. He had no prayer of competing against the monumental exhibits in Machinery Hall. But even that mighty building, with all its wonders waiting to be explored, would stand empty a while longer. The people here—more than half a million, if the projections proved accurate—had come to catch a glimpse of their president, Grover Cleveland, as he pressed his finger on the magical button that would bring their fabricated world to life.

As an exhibitor, Cullen had entered the park early and claimed his spot long before the public gained admittance. His landlady had told him she and her boarders were going to gather in front of the platform Cleveland would be speaking from. So he’d posted himself at the very hub of the plaza, or “Court of Honor” as it was called, surrounded by architectural wonders on every side.

Before him stood the Administration Building, its mighty gilded dome towering above its neighbors. It served as the sun around which all other buildings orbited. Its immense proportions and attention to structural detail left no doubt that this fair would glorify not only science and industry but also beauty and art. Even in the gray light, its dome seemed to glisten.

Today, however, its entrance was blocked by a temporary grandstand and stage, along with a line of uniformed Columbian Guards, so named for the Columbian Exposition. The intimidating force had been handpicked for their height, physique, character, and ability to serve and protect. At the moment, they formed a human barrier between the crowd and the presidential platform just ten feet away.

COLUMBIAN GUARD

Cullen sized up the guard facing him. He was the same height as Cullen, though the black pompon on his cap gave him a few more inches. Five horizontal stripes of black braid dissected his blue coat like cross ties on a railroad track, shiny brass buttons spiking their centers. The guard’s attention swept over the crowd and touched the structures that formed the first ring of the galaxy encircling the Administration Building.

In the week Cullen had spent preparing his exhibit, the layout of the Court of Honor had become so deeply ingrained in his mind that even if he closed his eyes, he could see all the guard perused. To Cullen’s left stretched Machinery Hall—his home away from home for the next six months. To his right was the Electricity Building with Edison’s seventy-foot Tower of Light inside. Behind him, an abyss of mud extended to an avenue a city block wide, with the epic Manufactures Building—reputed to be four times larger than the Roman Colosseum—on one side and the Agricultural Building on the other. Between the two lay a miniature lake known as the Basin. Blue, white, and yellow gondolas glided across its surface, giving it a Venetian flair, their cheery colors striking a bright note in the foggy mist.