The Dilemma of Charlotte Farrow (26 page)

Charlotte decided to walk a wide loop around the Ferris wheel as she continued thinking. Her musings had persuaded her she wanted to get close enough that if he were there, she would see him. But she did not want him to see her first. When she found him, she would decide how to approach him—she still did not know what she would say. Would she tell him the truth—that she had given Henry away? Would she shriek at him to leave her alone? Would she calmly and sternly demand he disappear from her life? Would she demand a legal divorce?

She sauntered over to the French cider press and pretended to look interested as mounds of whole apples were transformed under pressure into liquid. Then she ambled along
Sixtieth Street toward the Turkish exhibit, its Middle Eastern music wafting and colliding with the sounds of the German Village on the other side of the Midway. Every few minutes, Charlotte would find a post to lean against or a railing to casually support her balance as she turned once again to face the Ferris wheel and scrutinize the forms and faces of the people scurrying around.

The Bedouin, a performer from the Syrian exhibit, brushed passed her with his red and yellow silken robes flapping over his boots of sheepskin. His turban looked slightly askew to Charlotte, and his step seemed weary. She wondered about him only fleetingly, however. She was not watching the exotic performers, nor the fairgoers. Rather, she was interested in the people working to keep the Midway Plaisance in action. They were in constant motion themselves. So far Charlotte had identified three different styles of uniforms worn by people clearly toiling on the Midway, rather than feasting on the concessions and enjoying the sideshows. They were hawking souvenirs and novelties, selling tickets to the individual attractions, collecting trash, giving directions, moving wares.

They were like servants, she thought. People didn't really see them unless they needed something.

Charlotte just needed to see one in particular. He was here. She could feel it.

Archie emerged from the Chinese Village, regretting that he lost both valuable time and the cost of admission chasing the wrong woman. He was within reach of grasping her elbow when she turned her head to look at a display, and he saw her face. And it was not Charlotte. The suit
was identical—probably off the rack at Marshall Field's, he realized—but it was not Charlotte.

He stood in the middle of the Midway, contemplating his options. The Ferris wheel was in plain sight before him. As he approached it, he shielded his eyes from the sun's glare and peered at the car lifting off the platform. Quickly he scanned the crowd assembled on the next platform. As frightened as Charlotte was by the Ferris wheel, however, Archie could not imagine she would get on it. At the same time, he imagined she would not stray far—if she had come to do what he suspected. His gaze turned to Cairo Street nearby, just on the other side of the wheel. While Archie doubted Charlotte would go into Cairo Street for her own amusement, she might go if she thought she had seen her husband. As he walked toward the camel at the entrance to Cairo Street, Archie played with the coins in his pocket, wondering if the risk was worth the price of admission.

Charlotte paused her wide loop at the base of the model of the Eiffel Tower, and she could not help but think of Lucy Banning Edwards, who conceivably could be standing at the base of the real Eiffel Tower at that very moment. She was wearing the suit Lucy had given her last Christmas Eve so she would have something to wear to church, and in that church service Archie had held her hand for the first time.

Archie knew the truth now, all these months later, and he still wanted to hold her hand.

She wanted to let him.

But she couldn't, not as long as
he
was out there.

A mock wedding procession emerged from Cairo Street
into the Midway, the camels ornamented brightly and elaborately. On the back of the first animal rode a half-stripped Egyptian who danced with his bronzed, muscular shoulders. The tom-tom beaters followed, and behind them the camel with the canopied howdah bearing the bride. More drums and a procession of priests completed the entourage.

Charlotte's wedding had not had a single festive moment. Although this Egyptian wedding procession was meant for entertainment only, it convinced Charlotte of what she wanted.

She wanted to be free of him. Henry was safe. Nothing bound her to the man any longer.

 27 

H
e was there.

When the commotion of the Egyptian wedding procession cleared the street, Charlotte saw Lathan Landers. His back was to her, but the slope of his muscular shoulders and the solid stance of his booted feet were unmistakable. He wore the same black trousers and starched white shirt he had worn ten days ago, and standing with him at the base of the Ferris wheel were two other men in similar garb. If they were supposed to be working, they did not seem too concerned about it. When he threw his head back and laughed, he made a quarter turn. His face crinkled with familiarity that soured her stomach.

Charlotte's first impulse was to spin around, run down the Midway, and lose herself in the Irish Village or some other attraction safely away from the Ferris wheel.

She reminded herself she had not come this far for nothing.

At the edge of Cairo Street, she hovered, veiled—she hoped—by the horde swarming the camels, daring to stroke their necks or contemplating an exotic ride of a lifetime. Lathan and his companions drifted slowly toward one of the
loading platforms of the Ferris wheel. He had not seen her yet. She was sure of it.

Laden with brave and nervous passengers, the camels swayed down the street, curious followers trailing after them. Only a gaggle of mesmerized children stood between Charlotte and Lathan Landers, and Charlotte at last found her feet moving.

Toward Lathan. Not away from him.

Still he had not spotted her. She would know from his expression if he had. And then she was close enough that he would hear her.

“Lathan,” she said. He turned his head slightly, and she said again, “Lathan.”

His form turned and faced her, his bright blue eyes—Henry's eyes—sweeping up and down to take in her appearance. His two friends turned as well, their low whistles stirring up her unsettled lunch.

Lathan glanced at his friends, and a sneer crossed his face. “Forget it. The goods are not as sweet as they look.”

As he stepped toward her, Charlotte forced her feet to stay put and swallowed the bit of her noon meal that had worked its way up to her throat.

“You should not have left the way you did,” he said flatly.

The weight of breathing pressed on Charlotte's chest. “Why did you send me that note? Why didn't you just leave me alone after all this time?”

“You took something that belongs to me, and I want it.”

“I only took what was mine.”

He came closer and in one swift motion clasped her wrist. “You're nothing to me, but you helped yourself to something that matters.”

“I helped myself to a life where I did not have to dread the sound of you coming back into the house.”

“You know what I'm talking about.” He tightened his grasp.

Charlotte refused to display pain. “Let go of me, Lathan. You never wanted to be a husband.”

He laughed. “Then it worked out nicely that I never had a wife.”

A woman in a blue dress and an out-of-style hat approached. “Lathan Landers, get your hands off that girl or you'll be sorry.”

Lathan released his grip and turned toward the woman, who took his arm and leaned against him, raising her face for a kiss. He obliged by holding her chin and kissing her hard. The woman giggled under his mouth and wantonly returned the kiss.

A shiver ran through Charlotte as she remembered his touch in the early days. She had always hated it, had never wanted Lathan Landers.

Lathan's hands went to the woman's waist, and at last she pushed him away playfully. “Lathan, we're in public!” But clearly she was pleased with the attention. Lathan laid an arm lazily across her shoulders and turned back toward Charlotte.

“We're off for the day and going up on the wheel,” he said to her, glowering. “You'll come with us and we'll finish this conversation.”

“I'd rather finish here.” She resisted even lifting her eyes to the wheel.

The woman tugged on Lathan's arm. “I've been waiting all day. I insist you come up with me.”

“I'm going up,” he said again, an arm around the woman but his eyes on Charlotte. “You wouldn't have come looking for me if you didn't want to talk to me.”

“Surely we can talk right here. It doesn't have to take long.”

Lathan laughed. “You'll look silly talking to yourself, because I'm going on the wheel.”

“I'll wait for you, then.”

He shook his head. “No. You're coming.”

The woman in the blue dress pulled away from Lathan. “Who is this girl?” she demanded to know. “Why does she have to go with us?”

“She's nobody that matters,” Lathan answered, “just someone with whom I have some unfinished business.”

“I don't like my fiancé dallying with other women.”

Lathan laughed loudly. “Believe me, this is the last woman on earth I would want to dally with.”

Charlotte felt the flush rise. “I feel obliged to tell you Lathan and I were married two years ago.”

The woman slapped his chest. “You swore you weren't married.”

“Are you going to believe me or a stranger you just met?” Lathan leaned in and kissed the woman again.

The woman eyed Charlotte, tilted her chin up, and put a possessive arm through Lathan's elbow.

“I see I was wrong to disturb you.” Charlotte turned to go, barely keeping herself from running down the Midway.

“Oh no you don't.” Lathan reached for Charlotte's wrist. “We still have some things to clear up, and since you've taken the trouble to find me, we might as well do it.”

“But you promised we would go on the wheel,” the woman in the blue dress whined. “I've been looking forward to it all day.”

“And we shall go,” Lathan assured her. “She'll come with us. I'll even buy her ticket.”

Charlotte's heart pounded, but she did not resist further. If this was what it would take to be finished with Lathan Landers once and for all, then somehow she would muster the resolve. They stood on the platform together—Lathan, the woman, his two friends, and Charlotte. The line inched forward at a steady pace as sixty people at a time filled a car before it lifted off the ground. Lathan had his hand low on the woman's hip and kissed her passionately several times while they waited, each time sneering in Charlotte's direction. She simply turned her head. The truth was plain that Lathan had not sent her that note with any intention of reclaiming her as his wife. He went so far as to deny he ever had a wife. And not once had he asked directly about the welfare of the baby. He spoke of his own child as if Henry were something he owned.

One of Lathan's friends put a hand on her shoulder. “Would you like a little attention yourself?”

“No, thank you.” Charlotte shrank back and wondered if she could get out of line after all.

No. Finish with Lathan and be done with it.

They were at the front of the line now. The next car that swung down onto the platform would be theirs. As Charlotte tilted her head back to look at the towering wheel, dizziness overcame her, and she was not certain her legs would support her when the moment came to step into the car. Silently she hoped to lurch toward one of the chairs.

Finally the car swung into place. Lathan, with his arm around the woman's shoulders, sauntered aboard, followed by his two friends. Charlotte tentatively stepped off the solid
platform and onto the car, falling almost immediately into one of the twisted wire chairs and not caring that she heard Lathan laughing at her as he positioned himself in front of one of the plate glass windows. The car filled with people, and Lathan drifted to the far end of the car.

Once the car was loaded, it swung up the arc of the wheel and dangled in the air while another loaded beneath it. Gripping the sides of her chair, Charlotte peered between the passengers in her own car and got a glimpse of the Midway exhibits on the ground. She was grateful, though, not to be nearer the plate glass where she might see for herself the distance to the ground.

Fully loaded now, the wheel began to turn.

Nine minutes
, Charlotte thought,
and this can all be over. He can be gone for good.

So far, after insisting she come with him, Lathan was ignoring her. Charlotte was glad for the crowd. Lathan would not take extreme action with so many people around. But she only had nine minutes. She could not afford to waste them letting him watch her grip her chair in fear while he sneered from the other end of the car. Blowing out her breath, Charlotte forced herself to her feet, refused to look down, and moved one uncertain step at a time to where Lathan was once again kissing the woman in the blue dress.

“Ah, so you have decided to join us.” He stepped away from the woman and moved uncomfortably close to Charlotte.

“You said yourself we had unfinished business.” Charlotte refused to step back from his glare.

“And so we do. Where is it?” He leaned in and gripped her shoulder in one large hand.

It.
He sounded just like Sarah, not even able to acknowledge
that his son was a living, breathing human being. Charlotte said nothing.

“Where is it?” he repeated, this time through gritted teeth. “No one else knew about that hiding place.”

Hiding place? He's not talking about Henry.
“I don't know what you're talking about, Lathan.”

“There was a lot of money in that jar,” Lathan said, “and I want it back.”

Charlotte gasped. “This is about money? You want money?”

“What else would I want from you?” he said. “I took what I wanted from you a long time ago, but that doesn't mean I'll let you steal from me. Give me the money, or I swear I'll never let you have a moment's peace.”

Now it was Charlotte's turn to laugh. “I haven't got any money! If I had any of your bootleg stash, do you think I would be working as a domestic on Prairie Avenue?”

“I know you found that jar while you were expecting,” he insisted. “It can't be coincidence that it disappeared the same day you did—while I was conveniently away. I came home and you and the jar were both gone.”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Charlotte said again. “It must have been that girl you brought in to help with the work around the house when I was close to my time.”

He still had not asked about the baby. Was it possible he did not care?

“We both know that girl was useless.”

“Did you ask her?” Charlotte asked.

“She told me she didn't know where you went.”

“I mean, did you ask her about the missing money?”

“You took it.”

“No, Lathan, I did not take your money. I took a quilt, my grandmother's Bible, and the baby.”

“Yes, the girl told me you gave birth. What was it?”

“Do you even care?”

He shrugged. “Not really. Your parents might like to know.”

It was a boy and his name is Henry!
she wanted to scream. But she did not. Lathan didn't care about his own child. He didn't deserve to know his name.

“Let me go, Lathan. I don't have your money,” Charlotte said evenly. “It looks like that girl was not as stupid as you thought.”

“Look, we're at the top!” The woman in the blue dress tugged on Lathan's arm, and he released Charlotte.

Lathan's eyes were ice. “Don't miss the view. It's spectacular.”

“Are you finished talking business?” the woman asked.

Charlotte willed herself not to blink as she searched Lathan's face for the answer.

“Yes,” he finally said. “We're done.”

“Are you sure there's nothing between you and this girl?” the woman asked.

Lathan smiled. “No, nothing between us.”

He did not look over his shoulder as he walked away from Charlotte.

The seats were full. Charlotte had no recourse but to grip a railing and remain upright. The car was making its descent now. Charlotte focused on breathing evenly and awaiting the sensation of solid ground.