The Talk of the Town (8 page)

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Authors: Fran Baker

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #General

BOOK: The Talk of the Town
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Roxie looked mutinous for a fraction of a second, then plopped into the straight-backed chair beside his desk and took a deep, steadying breath before letting the words pour out. “You backed my decision on hiring Luke Bauer, which I truly appreciated, and I think you’ll agree now that we have to do what we can to help him adjust here. And that means putting a stop to Fesol’s interference. He’s undermining any chance Luke has of gaining people’s trust.”

“Is that so?”

When her employer used that tone, Roxie felt about four years old. She bit her lip and went on more slowly. “Fesol’s not only been watching everything Luke does, which influences others to do the same, he’s also told Barbara and the other women to lock their purses in their desks. That sort of advice engenders distrust.”

“And what exactly do you recommend we do to stop this insidious fiend?”

“Mr. Stewart! I’m serious.”

Hooking his thumbs under his trademark red suspenders, he sat back in his chair and eyed Roxie over the tops of his spectacles. “I don’t like this sort of thing any more than you do, Roxie. But I can’t fire Fesol for being Fesol any more than I would fire Luke for being ‘that wild Bauer boy.’”

“I wasn’t suggesting you fire Fesol—”

“No, but there’s not much of anything else I can do,” he pointed out. “I can’t tell him to quit being suspicious. He’d just think me a naïve old fool.”

A rueful smile touched Roxie’s lips. “He’s as much as told me I’m a young one.”

“If people want to listen to Fesol and keep their valuables under lock and key, who are we to say they’re wrong?” he reasoned. “If it makes them feel better, can we really demand they don’t do it?”

She had no answer for him so she just sat there and waited for him to continue.

“I think you should let time take care of these things,” he counseled.

“You think Luke will be all right?” she asked in a quiet tone.

He nodded with the same decisiveness that had made him such a successful businessman. “Luke Bauer strikes me as a man who’s perfectly capable of taking care of himself.”

Roxie didn’t know if she believed him. Luke seemed so lost somehow, like a soul without a home. She ached inside just thinking about it. But she also recognized the sense behind Mr. Stewart’s words. She could see that her own interference wasn’t any better than Fesol’s. Silently vowing not to stick her nose into it anymore, she smiled at her employer and started to rise.

“Hold your horses a minute,” he told her. “I’ve given you my opinion. Now I’d like to have yours.” He picked up the one-page advertising circular that he’d been looking at when she slammed into his office and handed it to her. “I got this in the mail the other day, but I just now got around to looking it over today.”

Roxie studied the front and saw it was from a Kansas City dress manufacturer.

“What do you think of those calico cloth housedresses on the back?”

She turned the circular over to look at them. “The rickrack around the neck and on the pockets is a nice touch.”

“Do you think they’d sell in the dry goods stores we supply?”

And thoughts of Luke fled as Roxie returned her attention to business.

* * * *

She wasn’t even thinking about him when she saw him. Carrying the cloth lunch bag her mother had made her, she was headed toward the picnic table on the east side of the warehouse where she planned to eat her sandwich when she happened to glance out over the field beyond the parking lot. A lone figure was stretched out in a small clearing in the grass. She paused in mid-stride, feeling uncertain about disturbing his solitude. Then she impulsively struck out across the field and strode toward him.

As she neared, her gait slowed to a hesitant walk. His dark hair shone like a raven’s wings in the sunlight as he lay with his hands stacked beneath his head. Disappointment nipped at her heels. He was sleeping. She shouldn’t bother him. About to turn back, she halted when he opened his eyes, caught sight of her and sat up.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” she hurriedly explained.

“You’re not.” That wasn’t quite truthful, Luke thought. She always disturbed him, though it was as pleasurable as it was painful.

“It’s such a pretty day that I decided to eat my lunch outside,” she explained, holding up the bag she carried from home. “Would you like to join me?”

“Thanks, but I already ate.” He’d made himself a bacon sandwich from the leftovers of his boardinghouse breakfast and had brought it with him to work. “Besides,” he added on a mellow chuckle, “I still owe you a lunch.”

“That’s right, you do.” Her voice took on a teasing lilt.

“All I can offer you now, though, is water.” He picked up a capped glass jar that looked to be about half-full and shook it.

“How about a seat?”

“A what?”

“If you won’t join me, may I join you?” She didn’t wait for his answer but handed him the bag containing her sandwich and an apple and then sank to the ground beside him.

Watching her tuck her blue striped cotton skirt around her legs, Luke could barely control the flood of sensations that threatened to drown him whenever she was near. For once he was grateful for the long years of practice at hiding his true feelings. At least he could keep her from seeing how affected he was.

“Here you go,” he said when she was settled.

“Thanks.” Smiling, she reached for her bag.

Their fingertips grazed as she took it back. Their eyes met, each mirroring shock as an unlabelled emotion arced between them. She lowered her gaze. He dragged his away just as quickly.

Roxie’s lunch lay forgotten in her lap as she waited for her heart to steady and her breathing to return to normal. When it had, she said, “Do you come out here often?”

“Every day. I like to be out in the open.” His mouth crooked in a rueful smile. “And the lunchroom reminds me too much of places I’d rather forget.”

A gentle breeze cavorted through the grass, but it didn’t cool the heated curiosity building inside Roxie. She had to know. She had to hear it straight from him. Into the charged silence she blurted out, “What happened, Luke? What went wrong?”

“I got caught,” he said, his voice flippant.

“Please don’t,” she pleaded.

“You know what happened. Everybody does.” Repressed emotion roughened his voice.

“I was away at school when you left,” she told him. “I never really knew all the details.”

“And you haven’t asked anyone?”

“I wanted to hear it from you.”

Luke shifted restlessly. He had known it would come to this. Sooner or later it always came back to this. His past oppressed his life. But if he were ever to come to an understanding with Roxie, it couldn’t be avoided. As much as he dreaded it, he had to try to explain. But what should he say? If he said too much, she might think he was making excuses. Too little, and he might not convince her how much he regretted his past mistakes. What to say? How to begin?

He crossed his legs Indian-style and stared out over the flat horizon. Just grass and sky with nothing in between. As always, the view soothed him. Finally, he began at the beginning.

“I was what went wrong,” he said matter-of-factly. “My parents never really wanted me. I was just an accident, or so I was always told, and each blamed the other for me. My mother deserted us before I was even five. My old man was a drunk whose favorite pastime was beating me—while I was still small enough not to fight back, that is.” He paused. “You know, my father never once said he loved me,” he added, dropping his voice a decibel.

He didn’t look at her, which Roxie thought was probably just as well. She knew she was one of those people whose faces reflected what they were feeling, and what she was feeling right now was a deep sadness for the little boy whose parents had never hugged him or kissed him or held him in loving arms. He didn’t want anyone’s pity. He’d made that clear the day she hired him. So she locked her grief inside, where her soul rocked with suffering for him.

“No one except Granddad Marchand—my mother’s father—ever seemed to expect anything of me,” he continued. “I pretty much grew up thinking I had to take on everyone in sight. Take them before they took me. All I ever really wanted was out. Out from under my father’s fists, out of Blue Ridge, out of the life I was leading. But I was mired in it. I knew what people thought of me, and I did my best to reinforce their opinion, directing all my energy to being
the
Bauer to end all Bauers. More and more I followed my father’s footsteps, drinking and fighting and wasting my life. As strange as it sounds, I think he finally approved of me.”

Luke risked a glance her way. Her head was bent, her face veiled by a honey-colored fall of hair. He was almost relieved he couldn’t see her reaction. He couldn’t bear to see her disbelief, her distaste, her disgust. Hoping with all his being that she wouldn’t hate him for what he’d done, he forced himself to go on.

“I’d had an ongoing feud with the owner of the gasoline station.”

“Buck Roberts.”

“Right.” He plucked a blade of grass and chewed on it, gathering his thoughts. “Old Buck was always egging me on, calling me a crumb and a bum and a raft of other names I won’t repeat. Then one day he said some things about my parents. Now he didn’t say anything about them that I hadn’t thought or said myself over the years, but I took exception to
him
saying them.”

He shook his head in self-deprecation. “I’d been drinking, of course, and decided I’d just have to teach the old codger to have a little more respect.”

Roxie crossed her arms over her stomach as if it pained her. Tightly she clasped her elbows with the opposite hands. She couldn’t lessen her grip. She felt if she let go, she’d let go of her control and throw herself against him in a burst of tears.

“So you robbed him,” she said, her voice breaking slightly.

Anger, fear, even a rare touch of self-pity, gnawed at Luke, and he spouted out, “Keep in mind that I was a twenty-year-old kid with a chip on my shoulder and a grudge. I was drunk and angry, but even while I was in the act of taking my grandfather’s gun out of the drawer he kept it in, even when I was in the act of robbing that station, I was regretting it. A thousand times I’ve wished I could go back and change it all. If I could, God knows I would. But I can’t. I can’t change the past.”

“I know that!” Roxie cried. She’d been afraid to say anything more than she already had, but she could no longer remain silent. She’d hurt him. And in hurting him, she’d pained herself unbearably. “I’m sorry, Luke. I didn’t mean to stir up old wounds. What happened then doesn’t matter now.”

“Oh, yes, it does,” Luke countered through gritted teeth. “It matters every time I see someone avoid me. It matters every time I realize how much of my life I wasted. It matters every time I remember how deeply I disappointed my grandfather, the only person who ever really believed in me.”

He dragged in a deep, cleansing breath and let it out slowly before he went on. “But if I can’t change the past, I can change the man. And believe me, I’ve changed.”

“I know you have,” she said more calmly. “That’s why I wanted to hear your side of it. What you did then didn’t seem to match up with the man I know you are now. I wanted to understand it. Thank you for explaining.”

Relief flooded through him, lightening and lifting him. She didn’t hate him. She didn’t even think less of him. “You don’t need to thank me. I wanted to explain. I wanted you to know that I’m trying to turn things around. I’m living up to my own expectations now, no one else’s, and I expect myself to make good.”

His voice trailed away like one of those clouds he liked to watch and he gave a humorless laugh. “It’s so easy to go wrong and so hard to make it all right.”

“How many men even try?” she questioned softly.

Ironing all expression from his face, Luke came abruptly to his feet. Once again, Roxie had stirred up emotions he hadn’t thought he still possessed. He felt wrung out and more than a little vulnerable. He hated to admit it, but he couldn’t deny that his past mattered. It mattered way too much. He spent every day of his life facing up to that fact. He couldn’t believe she would be able to disregard it in the long run.

Uncertainty replaced his fading relief. After she’d thought about it a bit, he felt sure she’d realize what a mistake it would be to get involved, however innocently, with him. And he didn’t think he would be able to bear the pain of her inevitable rejection.

So he did what he had to do. He retreated behind the defensive aloofness that had served him so well of late and said coolly, “I’ve bored you long enough. Besides, we’ve got to get back to work.”

By the time Roxie got to her feet, he had turned and stalked away. Appetite gone, she held her unopened lunch bag and tried to digest what she had just learned about Luke. She wanted to run after him and tell him that he hadn’t bored her in the least. She wanted most of all to assure him that she believed in him. But realizing that he probably wouldn’t stop to listen, she blew out a discouraged breath and followed him back to the warehouse.

 

Chapter 5

 

May melted away into June in a heat wave that wrung out the town and worried the surrounding farmers. “It’s gotta rain soon” was a continual refrain heard from the bank to the blacksmith’s to the barber shop. News that poor Phil Campbell had gone under brought a nodding of heads and a round of speculation as to who would be the next to lose his farm or his business. As the heat wave progressed, scarcely anyone remembered to be concerned over having Luke Bauer back in town. In fact, except for a few speculative looks tossed his way after Kansas City’s bloody Union Station Massacre was plastered all over the front page of the newspaper, scarcely anyone even seemed to remember he was in town at all.

Luke welcomed the quiet neglect. It was preferable to the mute animosity he’d received upon his return and it bestowed upon him the freedom that comes with anonymity. After years of sharing his cell with hardcore criminals, of listening to other prisoners hollering at each other and at the guards, of never having a moment to himself, he relished the solitude.

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