Purling Road - the Complete Second Season: Episodes 1-10 (19 page)

“This is because of me and don’t say it’s not.” Peter glared, daring her to argue.

“People have small minds,” she said with a sigh.

“Those small minds are affecting you. This is only going to get worse.”

“Or it could get better,” Muzzy countered. “Ignore them, and they’ll go find someone else to bother.”

“You’re not that naive. I know you’re not.”

Muzzy stopped and listened. “The press is done. Or it’s out of paper.” She pulled herself upright and was surprised to find Peter there, looking down on her.

“This needs to be fixed,” he said. “I need to fix this.”

“We don’t even know who’s doing it. How can you fix it?”

He gathered all the strength he could muster, all the courage, and all the fortitude of a man about to deliver grave news.

“By making an honest woman out of you.”

Her face froze, cracked, and then she laughed. “What?”

“If you marry me, they won’t have anything to say. The talk will stop, the subscriptions will rise again… it’s the only answer if you want your paper to survive.”

“Peter…” She struggled to wipe the humor from her face. “That can’t be the only answer.”

“I can’t think of another. Can you?” He waited. She had nothing.

“When are you going to Boston again for supplies?”

“Monday.”

She still couldn’t believe what he was saying, though his face was entirely serious.

“Fine. We’ll go together and do it at the courthouse,” he said and excused himself to bed.

***

Jonathan thought he’d won. He was sure of it even. Ava had shuttled Eddie, Jean, and Amy upstairs and was busy washing them and tucking them into bed. They’d quietly argued with children nearby yesterday evening about her going off to, as she called it, work. And he supposed that’s what it truly was. He didn’t suspect anything nefarious. But still, he didn’t like it. He wasn’t so old fashioned that he minded the idea of her getting a respectable job if she felt like she wanted to, and anything certainly helped. But not there, not in that place. Not finely dressed with men staring at her, trying to talk to her…

He rubbed his temples, feeling his blood pressure rise. He glanced at the ceiling. She was taking a long time getting the kids settled. But Eddie was a questioner. He asked about every little thing. The child loved learning. That’s probably what was keeping her. Last night he’d asked about his and Ava’s parents. Wanted to know every detail about them. Ava managed to tell him quite a lot, but the time came to draw the curtains to block the last of the day’s light.

Maybe the child was afraid of the dark. Jonathan had never thought to ask. That would explain the sudden influx of questions at bedtime. He was avoiding it. Though he had Jean to talk to, and most nights, he’d heard them talking and giggling very late. Since school was out, he let it go on. It was good that they were bonding.

He smiled to himself, rubbed his forehead, and looked up to see Ava standing at the bottom of the stairs. His smile dropped. She was still in her normal clothes, but her hair was glossed and her make up done heavily.

“So you’re going,” he said, almost in disbelief.

“I enjoy it, Jon. The money helps.”

“And what if the place gets raided. Am I supposed to use that money to bail you out?”

She folded her arms and dropped her eyes. “It will be fine.”

“I’m asking you one more time. Please.”

She fluttered her hand and hurried into the kitchen, returning with her handbag. “I’m going to be late.”

“Does what I want even matter?” he asked.

“What about what I want?” she asked, meeting his eyes. “This is legitimate work even if it’s not in a legitimate place. It’s not like what Arianna did, and it’s not as scandalous as what Claire wanted to do. I’m trying to earn money. I’m trying to help!”

“It’s not the work I mind. It’s the place.”

“Well, Jon, I’m going there for the work. Not the place. I’ll be home after midnight,” she said and walked out the door to the waiting car.

***

Monday morning Muzzy climbed on her bike and went to fire it up.

“What are you doing?” Peter asked.

She looked down and up with an obvious expression as she started the engine.

“Don’t you think we should ride out on one bike?”

“Why?”

“So people see us leaving town together.”

“I honestly don’t think it matters,” Muzzy said.

“Of course it matters.”

“What about my supplies?” She turned to peek at the stand she’d had made to fit over her rear tire. “I have to pick those up, don’t forget. And if you ride on my bike, there won’t be enough room.”

“I thought you’d ride on the back of mine,” Peter said. “That would make more sense.”

“More sense? Peter, if I have to marry you to save my reputation, that’s one thing. But you’ll never get me to ride on the back of anyone’s bike.”

“Well, I can’t ride behind you. That’d be just…”

“We’ll take two.”

Peter threw up his hands.

“Let’s get this over with,” Muzzy said and gave him a quick once over. His black button up was open and wrinkled over a white undershirt, his denims had small tears and worn spots from work on the boat.

“I can’t believe you’re wearing that on our wedding day.” She huffed, revved her engine, and sped off.

“Can’t I at least take the lead!” he called after her and tried to catch up. “Is there not a traditional bone in your body, woman!”

Episode Seven

The Unexpected

“Is it true?” Claire called out as she burst in the door to the Rockport Review with yesterday’s edition rolled in her hand. She stopped cold when she saw a young woman sitting at a desk in the middle of an otherwise empty dining room, hunched over a stack of papers. The woman looked up, stunned.

“Oh, hello,” Claire said and glanced around making sure she was in the right place. “Is Muzzy here?”

“She just got back from delivering the Sunday edition. She’s in her office upstairs.”

“Thank you. I haven’t seen you before,” Claire said, and when she moved closer, she noticed the wheelchair.

“I’m Grace Whittley. The new editor-in-chief of the Rockport Review.”

Claire stepped back, impressed. “Muzzy has herself an editor now,” she said, smiling. She heard Peter’s voice call out from the kitchen that lunch was almost ready. “Among other things,” she whispered. She turned back to Grace. “I’m Claire by the way. I do the satire for the paper.” She dug them out of a bag. “I always bring it on Fridays.”

Grace glanced at her calendar. “Would it be too much of an inconvenience to drop it off on Thursday? Or Wednesday, even? That way I have time to go over it.”

“Go over it?” Claire asked.

“For errors.” Grace’s owlish eyes blinked.

“It’s a cartoon,” Claire said and held it out. “Sometimes there’s a sentence or two, but nothing more.”

“Well, as editor, it’s my job to look over every word before it goes out.” She flashed a bright smile.

Claire returned the smile and relinquished the satire. “I’ll bet you and Muzzy get along wonderfully.”

“We do, actually. But to tell you the truth…” Grace leaned forward in her wheelchair, “I think she works harder now, so I won’t find any errors. It drives her batty for them to come back with any red marks.”

“I’ll bet it does,” Claire said with a giggle. “I’ll see what I can do to get these to you a few days earlier.”

“Thank you. You can go on up to her office if you’d like.”

Claire walked out calmly, then jogged up the stairs, broke into a tear around the banister, and burst through Muzzy’s open door. She came to a skidding stop, beaming.

“I saw a wedding announcement with a certain someone’s name! Is it true?” she squealed, holding out the paper.

Muzzy bit her bottom lip, grimaced, and nodded.

Claire let out a yelp. “I can’t believe it! Why didn’t you say anything? When did all this happen? Why didn’t you tell us, so we could go with you?”

Muzzy shrank lower with each question. “I really am more comfortable being the one doing the asking,” she said.

Claire sprang forward, dragged a chair next to Muzzy, and plopped down.

“Tell me everything. When did you realize he was the one?”

Muzzy squirmed. “When he fixed my bike?” She flashed a grin.

“Ugh, you’re so practical! Tell the truth. You knew he was the one the minute he first walked in your door. How did he propose?”

“Ah… in the usual way.” Muzzy was a terrible liar.

“Why do you look like you’re guilty of a crime? You should be happy!”

“I am,” Muzzy said and forced a smile. “It just happened so quickly. I guess I’m still in a bit of a daze.”

Claire glanced over her shoulder as if Peter were there. “I’ll bet you are.” Then she pinched Muzzy’s thigh. “You little fox. I can’t believe you nabbed him!”

Muzzy laughed nervously. “Yeah, me, too. It’s… amazing.”

“I know you well enough that you didn’t take any time for a proper honeymoon. Did you at least do something fun?”

“We went out to dinner. It was nice. There were low lights and a violin.” Her simple statement painted a romantic picture. In reality, they’d gone to a cheap diner where half the lights were broken, split a meal, and listened through the glass to someone playing an out of tune instrument with his hat open for tips.

“You’ll have to plan a real honeymoon at some point. Even just a weekend.”

“I might have time for that—when I retire.”

“Well, we should at least throw a party for you after the fact. It will be hard without Arianna to help, but I’m sure Ava and I can manage something.”

“Without Arianna?” Muzzy asked.

Claire sobered. “Haven’t you heard? She’s not in Rockport. She, ah… well, her and Caleb had a falling out. Honestly, I thought they’d patch it up by now. Maura told us she’s gone to stay with some friends in Boston. Remember Shannon?”

“I do. Sounds like a pretty serious falling out,” Muzzy said and turned in her chair. She pulled the paper from the typewriter and put it on a small stack to be taken to Grace.

“It was.”

“Is Caleb all right?”

“Maura’s helping. I went to tend the garden a few days ago and it’s so sad. He looks angry all the time. And exhausted to the bone what with taking care of the children and running the farm.”

“Poor guy. Maybe Peter can find a way to help.”

“Yep. You’re a real wife now. Volunteering your husband for this and that.”

With a flash of horror, Muzzy shook her head. “No, it’s just that we’re friends. I consider the Jenkins friends, anyway.”

“You are, Muzzy. Thank you for volunteering Peter. I’m sure Caleb would welcome every helping hand.” Claire crossed her legs and played with the edge of the newspaper. She tilted her head. “So. You’re married now…”

“Yes,” Muzzy said slowly.

“Is he… ah…” Claire wiggled her eyebrows. When Muzzy got her intent, she flooded crimson and shrank down.

“I really have a lot of work to do,” she said and began shuffling her papers.

“Muzzy, it’s just me! We’re just girls here. Come on!”

Muzzy would offer nothing as her face burned brighter. But Claire wasn’t letting up. Finally, she faced her. “This is Peter we’re talking about. What do you think?” Vague enough to keep Muzzy from crawling under her desk and dying while leading enough to make Claire squirm.

“I think your face is redder than a rose, and it’s not because you’re disappointed.”

“Can I please get back to work now?”

They heard Peter call up the stairs that lunch was ready.

Claire stood and swiped up the paper. “I’m going to leave you lovebirds to your lunch,” she said and moved the chair back to its place. “I’ll go straight to Ava’s and we’ll start planning something. I’ll let you know when. All you need to do is show up with your cutie pie husband.”

Muzzy watched her leave and then poke her head back in. “Congratulations on your new editor, by the way.”

***

“Me!” Savrene yelled as Caleb pulled Samuel wiggling and wet from the bathtub and wrapped him in a towel.

“Hold on, wait your turn,” Caleb said as he hurriedly got Samuel into his nightclothes before the muggy evening made him sweat again. Felicity sat on the floor next to him watching. Caleb glanced at her and smiled. “Don’t run off now. You’re next.”

For whatever reason, it made Caleb think of her birthday, which was coming up. Arianna always planned well in advance and took care of gatherings and parties. Felicity would be one, and she hadn’t even attempted to walk yet. She would crawl, but not far. More than anything, she’d cry out until someone picked her up. On a few occasions, Samuel and Savrene would pull the blanket she was sitting on from one room to the other. Like an infant queen’s chariot.

He was sure the child was just smart and spoiled rather than suffering from any problem that would keep her from walking. He’d give it a few more months before considering taking her to the doctor. Felicity not walking and figuring out how to bake a cake wasn’t what was bothering him tonight as he toweled Samuel’s hair and combed it neatly. What bothered him was the fact that Arianna would miss Felicity’s birthday celebration. Poor kid, he’d missed her birth, her mother would miss her first birthday. The thought made the anger rear its ugly head.

It didn’t have to be this way.

But it was this way. She made it this way and there was nothing he could do about it.

He sighed deeply, pulled Savrene up, and began to dry her off.

Savrene was quiet as Caleb pulled her little nightdress over her head. It was one Arianna had made from an old floral print sheet. One armhole was just a little bigger than the other was and the lace along the bottom was crooked. He remembered the first piece of baby clothing Arianna ever made, a lopsided little sweater with cheap yarn when they lived in the tenement. She was so proud of it, missed stitches and all. He shoved off the memory and turned Savrene away from him. Having packed the only hairbrush in Arianna’s bag when he sent her away, he did the best he could with Savrene’s dark hair using a fine toothed comb. She winced and yelled several times, and Caleb gave up before the job was finished. No sense in working the child up into a fit right before bed. He’d ask Maura to help with Savrene’s hair tomorrow when it was dry. He remembered Arianna saying something about hair being easier to detangle when it was dry. Or at least he thought he remembered that.

After not doing much more than rinsing the heat of the day off of Felicity, he pulled her back out while she protested. He tried standing her on her feet, but her knees bent and she sat.

“I know… you love baths. But Daddy’s tired,” he said. “I’ll give you a longer one tomorrow.” Glancing around, he realized he’d forgotten to bring a new diaper and, scooping her up with one arm, told Samuel and Savrene to follow him to his room. They marched behind him, holding hands.

Caleb dug around all the usual places where the baby’s cloths were and couldn’t find one. He searched the children’s room and couldn’t find any there, either.

He placed Felicity in her crib naked, told the twins to get into the small bed they shared, and darted downstairs. All he found there was a pile of dirty diapers waiting to be laundered. He groaned. Maura hadn’t been by all weekend, and he’d let himself run out. He shoved a hand through his hair, trying to decide what to do.

Back upstairs, he threw open his closet door and poked around. He’d packed some of Arianna’s things, but honestly, he didn’t remember all that he threw in the bag in his anger. Some of her things were still here. Knowing exactly what he was looking for, he yanked it off the hanger when he found it and swiped two diaper pins from the dresser as he passed.

He folded the little black dress into a square and laid Felicity on it. Frowning, he moved her and refolded it so the fringe at the bottom would hang around her little legs when he pinned the makeshift diaper up. After a bit of tugging and adjusting, he stood back and smiled.

“That’ll do for tonight. Tomorrow morning, Mommy has a pretty red silk number I’ll use.”

“I want Mommy,” Samuel said and Caleb turned around, losing the smile.

Samuel waited, eyes wide and chin quivering.

“Mommy had to go away for a while,” Caleb said as he went to the window and opened it.

“Why?” Savrene asked.

Caleb avoided looking at his children. It was the first time they’d asked anything about her. Finally, he sat on the edge of the bed and helped each of them lay back. It was too hot to cover up. They were still waiting for an answer.

“I don’t know why.”

“When Mommy come home?” Samuel asked.

“I don’t know that either, Sam.”

***

Downstairs, Caleb groaned as he looked around. It was impossible, even with Maura’s help a few days a week, to keep up on this. The sink overflowed, left over dinner still had to be put away, and clothes, along with diapers, were piling up at an alarming rate. The children’s things were scattered about the house and there were still chores in the barn to get to that he’d have to finish by lamp light. The pigs would start a revolt if they had to wait for their dinner much longer.

All he wanted to do was fall into bed. He walked by the table and his eyes went to her letter again. Maura had brought in the mail last Wednesday afternoon, and he was still angry enough to let it sit there all weekend. If Maura saw it still sitting there tomorrow morning, she’d give him an earful. Besides, curiosity was beginning to nag. What on earth could she possibly have to say? An apology meant nothing after what she’d put him through. She wasn’t capable of begging, and if she tried in this letter, it would infuriate him all over again. Then he had an opposite thought. Maybe she was filing for divorce. Maybe she beat him to it.

He’d gone into the attorney’s office the day after she left, just as he told Jonathan he would. Took with him every cent to his name. After a consultation, the attorney was eager to proceed.

Caleb walked out with his money, telling himself if he did this right now, should one of the children need something, he’d have nothing. She already took so much away from him. He wouldn’t let her take this, too.

After a long, hard glare, he swiped up the letter and went outside, careful not to let the back door slam. He sat on the porch, and there was just enough light to read by. He waited a few more minutes. Then, with a frown, he tore the end off, yanked out the paper, and flipped it open. Leaning over, he read it.