It Happened at the Fair (37 page)

He studied her brown eyes. Eyes he knew almost as well as his own—or at least he thought he did. “Are you telling me you came all the way to Chicago alone?”

Lifting her chin, she gave her shoulders a little shake. “I shore did.”

“Do your folks know where you are?”

“I told Thomas ta tell ’em. I give him strict instructions to let me have a good six-hour start.”

Hodge. That idiot. Wait until he got his hands on that sawney.

Dragging a hand through his hair, he handed her the traveling bag and pointed to an empty orange crate. “Sit there and don’t move. I need to clean up my mess over there.”

“Cullen?”

Looking back over his shoulder, he pulled off his jacket.

“I’m sorry yer cowshed burnt down just now. I done told ya before ya left that this was a bad i-deer. Will ya come home now?”

Home. That was a laugh. He didn’t have a home anymore. Yet it wasn’t the farm or the disastrous demonstration or Wanda’s unexpected appearance that weighed most heavily on his mind. It was Della. He couldn’t imagine what she was thinking. He needed to talk to her.

But he couldn’t do that yet.

“It wasn’t a cowshed,” he said, then he folded his jacket and set it aside.

STATUE OF THE REPUBLIC WITH THE PERISTYLE IN BACKGROUND

“Passing the giant golden statue of the Republic, Della turned into the peristyle’s Roman-looking colonnade with its double rows of forty-eight columns, one for each state.”

CHAPTER

41

Della stumbled around the corner and into the Court of Honor, her throat clogged, her eyes burning. She was surrounded by a multitude of people, yet never had she felt so alone.

Tears rose like an incoming tide, but she stemmed them, having no desire to succumb here. She needed somewhere to go, though. Touring the buildings held no appeal, and it was too early to retire to the boardinghouse. Returning at this hour would produce too much curiosity in Mrs. Harvell, and she was in no mood to field questions from that quarter.

Hilda and Maxine would be at some restaurant or other, but she had no appetite and no wish to unburden herself on them. Maxine would be full of I-told-you-sos, and Hilda would be downright crushed.

The elevated railway rumbled above her. She could ride in its electric cars as they circled round the fair, but she’d have to spend twenty cents for each revolution. The gondolas promised escape, but she’d have to disembark after just one pass. The Wooded Island beckoned, but it was out of the question. She had no desire to face its benches. Its statues. Or the rose garden’s pathways occasioned by lovers.

She needed somewhere quiet, somewhere free, and somewhere that didn’t hold memories of him. Of its own volition, her body turned toward the lake. She passed people from every walk of life. A farmer jostled elbows with a banker. Both smiled and apologized. Brothers and sisters from the rural districts skipped side by side in harmony. The high and the low sat together at outdoor café tables beneath covered passageways. Uniformed waiters wove between them balancing piles of plates and glasses.

All the while, her entire world had unraveled.

She walked the length of the Grand Basin only because her legs knew what to do. Gondoliers paddled by, singing ballads to young lovers within their boats. Tuning them out, she focused on the peristyle, its center looking like the Arc de Triomphe.

Almost there, she told herself.

Passing the giant golden statue of the Republic, she turned into the peristyle’s Roman-looking colonnade with its double rows of forty-four columns, one for each state.

PERISTYLE

A young woman squatted down, tucking a young boy into her side. “Look, David. Here’s ours.”

Della didn’t read the name of the state carved at its base. She had no interest in it, nor in finding the one with Pennsylvania’s name. For she didn’t want to inadvertently see North Carolina’s.

Finally, she made it to the pier. The wind off the lake whipped her hat, lifting its brim. She forged ahead, her target in sight. The movable sidewalk traveled around and around in a stretched-out oval from one end of the pier to the other. Its rows of benches, wide enough for four people, reminded her of pews.

MOVABLE SIDEWALK

A ticket taker stopped her from approaching. “Five cents, miss.”

Digging in her chatelaine bag, she pinched a nickel between her fingers, then handed it to him. Lifting a corner of her skirt, she stepped from the stationary platform onto a slow-moving one, then from there onto a swifter one with seats. The benches weren’t crowded, and she managed to claim one all to herself.

Settling onto its wooden slats, she raised her arms, pulled the pins from her hat, then set it on her lap. A brisk breeze blew against her. She closed her eyes, allowing a sense of freedom to overtake her.

And with the freedom came her tears. Silent, quiet, unobtrusive. She made no noise, nor gave away her distress with shaking shoulders. She simply let the tears pour from beneath closed eyes.

Is that any way to greet yer fee-on-say?

The fire chief had been speaking to him, but Cullen’s attention was on the woman. Her simple navy ensemble and straw hat held a country-like charm, as did her accent.

What seared into her consciousness most, though, was Cullen’s expression when he’d turned to Della. No denial of the woman’s claims formed on his lips, only an expression of distress.

A new rush of tears added to the ones already coursing down her cheeks. He was to be married. Had, from all indications, been engaged this entire time. The thought was so repugnant, her stomach began to roil.

Eavesdropping was one of the drawbacks of lip-reading. It wasn’t something she ever did on purpose, just something that happened accidentally. She and Hilda jokingly called it “eyesdropping.” But she hadn’t had to lip-read the young woman’s pronouncement. Her voice had easily carried to Della’s ears.

Is that any way to greet yer fee-on-say?

She pressed a fist against her mouth, holding in the sobs. It explained so much. His strict adherence to propriety when he was with her. But no, someone adhering to the rules of propriety would never have removed his shirt in front of a lady. Even if the lady had insisted. Even if it was the only way to prove he was who he said he was.

Someone adhering to the rules wouldn’t have held her close under the guise of protectiveness. Someone adhering to the rules wouldn’t have pulled her into his lap, no matter what the circumstances. Someone adhering to the rules would have told her he was promised to someone else.

Her father was right. Men were devious creatures.

Gulls squawked, reminding her where she was. She drew in a shaky breath, allowing the smell of fish and the sound of waves to soothe her. But she kept her eyes closed, her head down.

Did his fiancée know about Cullen’s hearing? About his lessons? She began to straighten, her eyes slowly opening. Was that the real reason he hadn’t wanted anyone to know about his lip-reading? Because his fiancée might find out?

The sun began to set, putting on a glorious show, but she took no joy in it. Just continued to ride round and round in a circle, always traveling but never arriving anywhere. When she finally stepped off the machine, darkness had long since taken hold, and the emptiness inside her still loomed, pressing against her rib cage, her chest, and her heart.

She pushed back new tears welling up. Whether the woman knew about them or not, Cullen’s lessons were over. Finished. Through.

She told herself to drive him from her mind, to not give him another thought. But she knew it would be a long time before she’d be able to accomplish such a task.

COURT OF HONOR AS VIEWED FROM THE ADMINISTRATION BUILDING

CHAPTER

42

Cullen should have been up-front with Della from the very beginning. He knew that now. Would even admit he knew it earlier. And because he hadn’t, she’d found out he was engaged in the most deplorable of ways.

Desperate as he was to go to her, soothe her, confess to her, he couldn’t abandon Wanda. Not when she had no place to stay, no place to go.

He thought of his bleak future. Did he even have a right to ask Della to share it? He had nothing. No investors. No farm. No prospects. No money.