by Lynn Austin
“I understand.”
“Just so you know, they were working the fair that day, but I wasn’t.”
“But you were working on the train the day we met, weren’t you?” If I had learned anything at all this summer about being a detective, it was to plunge right in and pretend I knew the truth, then wait and see what people told me. “That’s why you were in disguise on the train. I know all about that too, Silas. And that you aren’t a salesman.”
“Guilty as charged,” he said, holding up his hands in surrender. “Listen, I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you the truth about myself sooner, but I was afraid you would tell me to get lost—and I wouldn’t blame you. I know I’m unworthy of you. I was going to tell you the truth last night when I brought you the photograph, but then your aunt was so upset and—”
“You really helped her, Silas. I want to thank you again for being so good with her.”
“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to reconsider—?”
“It’s not a good idea. Besides, I’m leaving Chicago, probably for good. But thanks for helping me find my mother.”
“If there’s anything else I can ever do for you, just ask, okay?”
I had nothing to lose. I didn’t want to die an old maid who had never been kissed. It was just an experiment, I told myself. Silas was a confessed thief, but in his fine tuxedo and white bow tie, he was a very respectable-looking one. If he could pretend to be a gentleman for an evening, then I could pretend that he was one.
“Now that you mention it, I would like to ask one more favor of you, Mr. McClure, but I hope you won’t get the wrong idea about me. I would like …” All of my courage fled. I couldn’t go through with it. I turned away. “Never mind.”
“No, wait.” He caught my arm. “I’ll do whatever I can, Violet. And I could never think ill of you. Please tell me.”
I made the mistake of looking into his eyes. The tenderness and love that I saw in them began to hypnotize me. I couldn’t seem to look away.
“You’re right about Nelson being a fool. My other suitors turned out to be disappointing too. And so it is starting to appear that I will never marry.”
“Never marry? A girl as smart and as pretty as you? I don’t believe it.”
“It’s too complicated to explain. But the truth is … you see … I mean, the favor I would like to ask … if you wouldn’t mind …”
“Just ask me, Violet.”
“I have never been kissed, Mr. McClure. And I would like to be—kissed, that is. Just once. So I could see what it’s like.”
“And you want me to be the one?” he asked breathlessly.
“I-if you wouldn’t mind.”
“Whoa,” he said, exhaling. “I never saw that coming! But I would be honored.” He looked into my eyes for a very long time as if trying to steady himself. “Are you ready?” he finally asked.
“Yes,” I whispered.
Silas leaned toward me. I closed my eyes. His lips touched mine, as softly as a butterfly landing, and rested there for a moment. Then he moved closer and his mouth seemed to melt into mine as he kissed me. It was the most wonderful sensation I had ever felt. It started where his warm, tender lips joined mine and traveled slowly through me like a wave of warm water.
Much too soon, the kiss ended. Silas moved away.
“How was that?” he murmured. In the moonlit darkness, his eyes looked as though they were made of navy blue velvet.
“Oh my …” I breathed. “I had no idea that a kiss traveled all the way to your toes.”
“Yeah. I felt it too.”
“Why are we whispering?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
He moved toward me again and this time he took my face in his hands. He was going to kiss me again. And I wanted him to.
The second kiss was much firmer and lasted much longer. I felt the stubble of his chin as his face brushed against mine. This time the sensation that washed over me was like falling into a raging river and being swept downstream. The power of it came not only from the touch of his lips against mine but from the warmth of his hands on my face and in my hair. My knees turned so weak I thought I might fall over. He finally pulled away once again, but I didn’t want him to.
“That … that was even more wonderful,” I whispered.
“Yeah …” We both sounded like we had just swum across a river and collapsed on shore. “Violet? May I… ?”
“Yes, please … one more …” I closed my eyes. This time his arms encircled me, and he pulled me close. I clung tightly to him, no longer simply being kissed, but kissing him in return. It was every bit as passionate as the kiss Nelson and Katya had shared—but I wasn’t observing this time. I was drowning in it.
The sensation was the most amazing, terrifying, wonderful, frightening one I had ever felt. All of it—the feel of his strong arms around me, his sturdy body close to mine, the way he breathed, the way his skin caressed my skin, his scent. As his warm lips melted into mine, I decided that a kiss was the most wonderful thing in the world. And now that I had experienced one, I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life without another. No wonder Aunt Birdie hugged every man she met.
When our lips finally parted, Silas crushed me against his chest for a moment. I was glad that he did. I felt so weak and breathless and dizzy that I could barely stand.
At last my strength returned and I pulled away.
“Thank you.” I still was able only to whisper, for some reason. “Now I know what it feels like and—”
“I love you, Violet.”
I couldn’t speak. Tears filled my eyes.
“It’s the truth. I love you. I’ve never been in love before, but I’ve fallen in love with you. I don’t suppose I could get you to change your mind? About never getting married? Because I don’t think I can live without you.”
I longed to ask if he loved me enough to change; enough to give up stealing and find a legitimate occupation. But I remembered Nelson Kent’s indecision when I’d asked if he would surrender all of his wealth for Katya, and I was afraid to ask. If Silas hesitated, if he was unable to decide—or if he lied to me—it would break my heart. He would have to choose to change on his own.
“No, I won’t change my mind. Good-bye, Silas.”
“Violet, wait—”
“I’ll remember that kiss for the rest of my life, but now I have to go.” I was going to burst into tears, and I didn’t know why. I fled into the house and up the stairs to my room.
As soon as I closed my bedroom door, I took off my dress and unlaced my corset. To my despair, all of the symptoms of love that every romance novel had ever described were still there. My heart raced wildly. I was breathless, weak, dizzy. His last kiss had left me so dizzy, in fact, that I had leaned against him to keep from falling over. And the symptoms were still there, even after I’d torn off my corset and tossed it onto the floor. I was in love with Silas McClure. I had fallen in love with a thief.
True love was much more devastating than in a romance novel. More devastating than the Great Chicago Fire. The flames of love were all-consuming, and there was nothing you could do to stop them or hold them back. You either saved yourself or ended up destroyed.
I cried inconsolably.
After a while, I heard my bedroom door creak open. Aunt Birdie floated into the room in her nightgown and gazed down at me, her head tilted to one side in sympathy.
“You must be in love,” she said. I could only nod. “Make certain you marry for love, dear.”
“I know, Aunt Birdie, I know!” I sobbed as her arms surrounded me. “I want to marry for love, but he is completely unsuitable. He’s a thief. He even confessed that he was one tonight. My father would never approve of him, even if I got up the nerve to ask him.”
“Your father, of all people, would understand.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, he defied his father, you know. Angeline was totally unsuitable too. But he married her for love.”
“Oh, how nice.”
“And she didn’t abandon me after all. My mother left me because she loved me.”
“Well, then,” she said as she hugged me tightly. “That says it all, doesn’t it.”
Chapter
37
Saturday, July 15, 1893
I was packing the last of my things on Saturday morning when I remembered the journal I’d stuffed beneath the mattress. I took a moment to leaf through the record of my time in Chicago and paused when I found my entry from June twentieth.
I had written Mysteries to Solve on the top of the page. I had arrived in town with two of them and had added several more. Now that I was going home, it surprised me to see how many of them I could cross off.
1. Why did Mother leave us? Where is she?
2. Did Maude O’Neill murder her first husband? How can I stop the wedding?
3. Why did Father change from being one of Mr. Moody’s Yokefellows to being indifferent about religion?
4. Why are Grandmother and Father estranged? What were the “sorrows” she mentioned in her life with my grandfather? Why won’t Father let her talk about my mother?
5. Was Aunt Matt’s fiancé, Robert Tucker, really a thief, or was Aunt Birdie simply rambling? Did Mr. Tucker get caught? Is he in prison?
6. Does Nelson Kent really love Katya, or is he using her? Is he using me?
7. And speaking of being used—is Silas McClure using me, or does he truly have feelings for me?
The last question brought tears to my eyes. Silas was the only man I’d met this summer who had truly loved me. And I loved him. I dried my eyes with his handkerchief, which still bore his faint scent. I finished packing my trunk, then went downstairs to wait for my father. I had just reached the foyer when Aunt Agnes burst through our front door without even knocking.
“Violet! Oh, you poor dear,” she said breathlessly. “You had better sit down. I’m afraid you’re in for a terrible, terrible shock.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I have scandalous news. Outrageous news! Nelson Kent eloped with his grandmother’s serving girl last night!”
“Good for him.” I couldn’t help smiling.
Aunt Agnes gripped my shoulders. “But, my dear, aren’t you positively heartbroken? He proposed marriage to you!”
“And I turned him down. He’s in love with that serving girl, Aunt Agnes, and I’m thrilled for both of them. I hope they figure out a way to make it work.”
“Oh, my dear,” she moaned as she pulled me into her arms. “You must be in shock. I’m sure the truth hasn’t sunk in yet. I feel so bad for dragging you into this mess.”
“You don’t have to feel bad at all.” A giggle escaped from my lips, and Agnes pulled away to stare at me.
“I knew you’d be upset,” she said. “You’re hysterical!”
“I’m not. Please believe me, Aunt Agnes. I know all about Nelson and Katya. I loaned her the gown she eloped in.”
Agnes pulled a collapsible fan from her handbag and flicked it open. She fanned herself vigorously, causing the papers on the hall table to flutter in the breeze.
“Oh, Violet, I’m so sorry.”
“Listen, I had a good time with you and your friends. I learned a lot. You helped me decide some things in my life.”
“I’m acquainted with plenty of other young men from good families. I could make introductions for you.”
I smiled, wondering what she would think of the nickname I’d given them: pea pods. “I have to go home today, Aunt Agnes. But who knows? Maybe I’ll visit Chicago again someday.”
“What’s all the fuss?” Aunt Matt asked as she marched out from the kitchen. “What’s going on?”
“I’ve come with dreadful news,” Agnes said. “Violet’s beau eloped with another woman!”
“He wasn’t my beau—”
“Oh, is that all?” Matt asked. “Will you be staying for lunch, Agnes?”
“Not today. I must go and comfort my dear, dear friend, Sadie Kent. She is simply devastated that her Nelson would do such a thing and run off that way. The family is worried sick about a breach of promise suit, so I offered to come over and talk with you, Violet.” She sniffled as Aunt Matt stomped back to the kitchen, shaking her head.
“I’m not going to sue anyone, Aunt Agnes. I never accepted Nelson’s proposal.”
“Oh, thank goodness. The Kents will be so relieved. Disappointed, mind you, but relieved to know they won’t face a lawsuit. I’d better go and tell them right away. Au revoir, my dear. And give my apologies to your father. I’m afraid I’ve failed him miserably.”
I watched Aunt Agnes hurry away to comfort Mrs. Kent and realized that while many things in her life were superficial, the friendships she shared with the other women were not. There was a solidarity in their lives that I had experienced only at school with Ruth Schultz. I no longer wanted a life like Aunt Agnes’, but I admired her a great deal. She had taken her sorrows and tragedies and allowed good to come from them, just as Grandmother had advised me to do.
I went into the parlor and found Aunt Birdie seated on the sofa, reading a letter from Gilbert. I could tell by the faded ink and tissuethin paper that it was many, many years old. I still hoped she would forget that Gilbert was dead, but for now she had found comfort in his letters. She looked up when she saw me and smiled through her tears.
“Your young man was right, Violet. I hear Gilbert speaking to me.”
I couldn’t reply around the lump in my throat. She had referred to Silas as “my young man.” I wondered how long it would take for me to forget him. Did people ever find true love more than once in a lifetime? Birdie and Aunt Matt never had. I hoped I would.
I heard my grandmother puttering around in the kitchen with Aunt Matt, fixing lunch, and I wandered out to talk with her. She stood at the kitchen stove, stirring a pot, and I slipped into place beside her.
“I hope you aren’t too disappointed that things didn’t work out for Louis Decker and me.”
She circled her arm around my waist and laid her head against my shoulder. “Not at all, my dear. You would make a dreadful minister’s wife. You’re much too high-spirited and unconventional. There are people in the church, I’m sorry to say, who would try to put you into a mold and squeeze your wonderful imagination right out of you. God has a purpose for your life. You would be wrong to marry Louis for my sake.”
“And there is much more to life than getting married,” Aunt Matt added. “But if you do get married, Violet, make sure you and your husband want the same things in life.”
“I know. I want to do something useful with my life, the way both of you do. I’m just not sure what that will be. I’ll never forget all those wonderful displays you showed me at the Woman’s Pavilion, Aunt Matt. You really inspired me. You both did.”
Father arrived in time for lunch. I listened as he chatted with Grandmother at the dining room table, and it seemed to me that they had reconciled a bit. He kissed her cheek when it was time to go.
“Good-bye, Mother,” he said. “I trust I’ll see you in Lockport for the wedding?”
“Of course, dear. And don’t be a stranger, John. Bring Violet back to see us once in a while. We love her dearly, you know.”
We all wept as I said good-bye. Even Aunt Matt brushed a tear from her eye. Father finally pried me out of Aunt Birdie’s arms and towed me out to the waiting carriage, grumbling about missing our train. We chugged away from Union Station an hour later, but my tears didn’t stop falling until we reached the outskirts of the city.
We would be back in Lockport in another hour, so I drew a deep breath to gain control of my emotions. I still had a few things that I needed to discuss with my father. He was engrossed in the newspaper he had purchased from one of the street urchins at the train station, but I cleared my throat, signaling for his attention.
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“I know why Grandmother came to Chicago after her husband died,” I began. “And I know why she didn’t come to live with us.” He folded his newspaper and laid it aside, frowning.
“It was because your Aunt Bertha—”
“No. She came here to search for Mother.”
His frown deepened. “Did she tell you that?”
“Yes. She started working in all of those poor areas so she could look for Mother and convince her to come home to us.”
“She promised me that she wouldn’t talk to you about your mother.”
“And she didn’t break that promise. I learned everything on my own. I came to Chicago to find Mother too.”
“You what?”
“That was the real reason I asked to visit the city—not to see the fair. I needed to know why she left me.”
“Violet, I already told you—”
“I found her. And now I know exactly why she left. I know the truth about her past—that her family were gypsies and that she worked in a burlesque theater.”
He closed his eyes.When he finally opened them again, he gazed out of the window not at me. “How is she?” he asked quietly.
“Still beautiful.”
He nodded silently.
“Mother told me the whole story, her side of it. She didn’t go away because she was discontented with you. She left because she loved you. Your father told her that the reason her babies died was because God was punishing her. She didn’t want anything bad to happen to us because of her. Then her brothers found her and threatened to expose her past to all of Lockport if Grandfather didn’t pay them money. She was afraid the scandal would ruin you and me. So she left.”
Father’s lips drew into a tight, angry line. “So it wasn’t just Philip who my father destroyed.”
“I know how strict your father was and how he made your brother run away. But I would like to hear your side of the story. All of it. Starting with the night of the fire when you and Mother met.”