To Dream Again

by Laura Lee Guhrke

  "I...umm...really didn't want t...to do this," he said, stumbling over his words as if they were the most difficult ones he'd ever had to say. He cleared his throat, and glanced around again. She had the feeling that if he were not surrounded by men, he'd jump down from the table and flee like a startled animal.

  I'll always back you up in front of others. That's what partnership is all about.

  Mara didn't know what had caused this sudden panic in him, and she didn't care. She had no idea what she could do, but she had to do something. She pushed her way through the crowd of men, edging around them until she was directly in Nathaniel's line of vision.

  "As M...Michael's already told you, we're making a g...great many ch...changes around here," Nathaniel

  went on, struggling valiantly, but she could tell he was sinking deeper into the mire of his own words. She lifted her hand, waving until she caught his attention. She met his eyes, and the misery in their depths twisted her heart. She lifted her hands, pointing to her own eyes with her fingers, and she mouthed the words, "Look at me, Nathaniel. Speak to me."

  She nodded encouragingly, keeping his attention focused on her, hoping he understood. For a few breathless seconds, they looked at each other, and then she saw him give her a slow nod in return. He focused his gaze on her as if she were a lifeline, took another deep breath, and began to speak.

  "I...umm...I told Michael that he sh...sh...should tell you what we're d...doing. I d...didn't plan to give a damn speech."

  There was a fresh outburst of laughter. She smiled and gave him another nod of encouragement as he waited for the laughter to subside.

  "I suppose the first thing we should d...discuss is what I'm doing here," he continued. "M...many of you knew James Elliot, but what most of you don't know is that I knew him, too."

  He spoke slowly, enunciating every word with care, still looking at her. "James and I decided to form a partnership making toys. I c...came to London so that together we could turn Elliot's into a toy company."

  Murmurs of surprise rippled through the crowd at this news, but Mara didn't take her eyes off Nathaniel. She held her breath, watching him watch her, listening as he went on, "James is dead, God rest his soul, but the dream of what he and I set out to do is still very much alive. Mrs. Elliot inherited this company from her husband, and she and I have formed a new partnership. As M...Michael's already explained, we will be changing Elliot's manufacturing to toys during the coming months. We shall start with toy trains, and gradually build from there, until we're also making boats and tops and games and all sorts of other things."

  His words came faster now, and he wasn't stumbling over them, but he still kept his gaze fixed on Mara as if she were the only person in the room. "If we're to do this, we shall need the help of each and every one of you. Mrs. Elliot and I will be demanding all your cooperation and a lot of hard work, and some pretty long hours as we draw closer to Christmas. Now, if I were in your shoes, I'd be asking myself what's in it for me."

  The crowd stirred a bit at those words, almost guiltily, as if that's exactly what they'd been thinking. Nathaniel took a deep, steadying breath. "You people know your own jobs better than anyone else does," he said. "If you see ways we can do things better, I want you to speak up. If you have a problem or a complaint, tell us about it, and tell us how you think we can solve it. You won't lose your job or be reprimanded. In fact, I'll pay you for it."

  More murmurs ran through the crowd. Nathaniel waited for them to subside. "If you bring me an idea that will save us money, I'll pay you a pound. I wish I could tell you I'm doing this out of the goodness of my generous heart, but I'd be lying. I'm not that generous."

  The confession was made with a rueful smile that seemed natural and easy, but Mara knew it was not. She took her eyes from him long enough for a quick glance around and was relieved to discover the faces in the crowd smiling back at him.

  "I'm willing to do this for one simple reason," Nathaniel continued. "Your ideas can save us money. Your ideas will mean more money for the company and will help us to be successful, so it's only fair that those ideas also mean more money in your pockets."

  Murmurs of approval greeted that statement, and Nathaniel seemed aware of it, for he tore his gaze from hers and lifted his head to look at the crowd for the first time.

  "Michael is now your supervisor, but you can also bring your suggestions to me or to Mrs. Elliot. There's a great deal of work ahead, and it won’t be easy. But we can do it, if we all work together."

  He jumped down from the table, and a round of cheers went up. He walked toward Mara, receiving approving slaps on the back from the men as he shouldered his way through the crowd. When he reached her, he grasped her hands in his before she could think of anything to say. "Thank you."

  "You don't have to thank me," she answered and smiled at him. "Partners, remember?"

  He didn't smile back. He just looked down at her, and there was gratitude in his eyes, gratitude and promises and something more. "I stuttered when I was a boy."

  Her hands tightened around his. "I know."

  "I won't fail you."

  "I know that, too."

  His smile came then, slowly, and a strange sensation began in her midsection, a tremble of breathless excitement and anticipation, as if she had just jumped off a cliff. And just this once, for just this moment, she wished she could fly without thinking about what would happen when she hit the ground.

  ***

  Nathaniel studied the pieces of machinery spread out before him on the worktable, forcing himself to concentrate on his latest idea. He was still trying to design a steam train that didn't leave trails of water all over the floor, but his thoughts kept straying from that task.

  In his mind, he kept reliving the events of the preceding afternoon. He kept seeing the sea of faces, the rough workmen looking up at him, waiting for him to say something. He kept feeling the knot of sickening fear twist in his guts. He kept hearing his own stuttering words.

  One face had been clear amid the blur. A face with the raven brows and mournful eyes of Shakespeare's sonnets. Bow-shaped lips forming the whispered words that had saved him. If Mara hadn't been there, he'd have jumped down from that table and run. Just like the frightened little boy of twenty years ago.

  They were truly partners now. She had seen him foundering and had come to his aid, and he would never be able to tell her how much that meant to him.

  She could have simply allowed him to drown in his own stuttering words. But she hadn't. She could have thwarted his plans, the plans she'd fought so hard against. But she hadn't.

  Perhaps she was beginning to believe in what they were doing. There had been trust in the hands that had tightened around his. He knew how difficult it was for Mara to trust anyone. And she was trusting him with the only thing she had. Elliot's. He would not fail her.

  A sound on the stairs caused Nathaniel to lift his head. Over the partition separating his laboratory from the office, he saw her walk through the door with a tray of tea and scones in her hands. The kitten followed her like a shadow.

  Her gaze lifted to his as she walked toward him. "Good morning," she said with a smile. "This is a change. You're here early."

  "So are you."

  "I always come in early." She set the tray on the table. "I'm working on a proposal for us to take to the bank."

  Her tacit agreement to seek a loan from the bank surprised Nathaniel. He watched as she clasped her hands behind her back. The schoolgirl gesture made him want to smile. She always did that when she was nervous or embarrassed.

  "I...umm...assumed they'd want to know how we intend to spend the money. And I thought it would be prudent for us to present them with a proposed budget."

  "Very prudent," he answered gravely.

  "It will also give us an estimate of how much money we'll need to borrow. I want that done, but there's no time during the day, so I've been coming in a bit earlier than usual."

  He left the laborator
y, moving through the makeshift doorway into the office. He watched Mara sit down at the table, and he came up behind her to push in her chair. As he moved around to the opposite chair, he saw the kitten dive beneath the table, and he paused, bending down to take a look. He could see the kitten batting at the hem of Mara's skirt. "I believe our little alley cat has actually become a pet," he said as he straightened and took the chair across the table from her. "Have you named him yet?"

  "I decided your suggestion was a good one," she admitted. "I've named him Algernon. But he isn't a pet, he's a nuisance."

  Nathaniel leaned back in his chair. "A nuisance, is he?"

  She nodded. "Oh, yes, he's always underfoot. He still won't let me pet him though."

  "He will. He has to learn to trust you first." He paused and met her eyes. "It's odd how they're like people that way, isn't it?"

  He could see that she didn't miss the reference to herself, but she didn't reply. She began to pour tea.

  "Tea and scones again?" he asked, watching her.

  "When I looked out my window this morning, I saw the lights on, and I knew you were up here. I thought it would be a nice idea."

  "It is," he agreed. "I think we should do this every morning."

  She fixed his tea the way he liked it and handed him a cup and saucer. "We could use this as a sort of morning meeting," she suggested, "to talk about the business."

  He hadn't suggested it for that reason. He'd suggested it because he liked the idea of starting his day this way. But he didn't say so. Instead, he took a scone from the basket. "If we're to have tea every morning, I should probably be the one to bring it, since I come in later than you. And," he added, reaching for the tiny pot of cream, "I can make sure that we have enough cream. You never bring enough."

  She frowned at the generous dollop of cream he spooned onto his scone as she reached for the jam pot. "Cream's expensive. You shouldn't be so extravagant."

  He grinned at her. "Mara, I think everyone is entitled to choose their luxuries. I like plenty of cream on my scones. You like lilac soap, and that's expensive, too."

  She gasped. "How do you know that?" she asked, setting down the jam pot. Her cheeks suffused with color.

  He loved watching her blush. It did magical things to her face, it allowed him to see beyond her defenses, and it brought out all the softness she tried so hard to hide. "I know the scent of lilacs when I smell it," he said. "And you don't wear cologne. You told me that."

  The realization that he knew such an intimate thing about her unnerved her, but if he told her what he was thinking at this moment, it would shock her. He was thinking of how the scent of lilacs clung to her skin and her hair, of how she would look sitting in a tub with her leg drawn up and the way she would rub that soap over her skin. If he kept thinking like this, he'd go insane.

  "It...it isn't proper to talk of such things," she said and took a bite of her scone, still blushing.

  It wasn't proper to think about them either, but that didn't stop him. He smiled, watching her.

  "What are you smiling about?" she demanded.

  "You have jam on your chin."

  She lifted her hand to wipe it away, but he was already reaching out his own hand. He scooped the tiny strawberry dab onto his thumb. Their eyes met, and he saw hers widen as he slowly pulled his hand back and licked the jam from his thumb.

  He could hear her breath coming in small whispers between her parted lips, and he knew he was about to stand up, walk around the table, and kiss her.

  Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Mara made a flustered, almost panicky movement of her hand and tried her best to look casual as Emma Logan paused in the doorway. Nathaniel rose to his feet, taking a deep, steadying breath, glad of the distraction, aware that if Emma had been a moment later, the gossip would have spread like wildfire.

  "Emma!" he greeted the woman with a smile. "Good morning."

  She bent her knees for a casual curtsy. "Mr. Chase," she answered, and bobbed her blond head in Mara's direction. "Ma'am," she murmured politely before returning her gaze to Nathaniel's. "I 'ope I'm not interruptin'."

  "Not at all," he assured her and gestured to the table. "Mrs. Elliot and I were just having our morning meeting over a pot of tea. Would you like to join us?"

  Her eyes widened. "Oh, no, sir. Thank ye, but I wouldn't want t'disturb yer meetin'."

  "It's quite all right." Nathaniel stepped forward, took her arm, and led her to the table, pulling out a chair for her. She sat down and seemed quite unnerved when he pushed it in for her.

  "Would you care for tea?" Nathaniel asked. He took his own cup and went into the laboratory to dump the dregs from it and rinse it out in the sink, then brought it to Emma before returning to his own chair. He reached for the teapot and poured a cup for her.

  "Are you quite comfortable?" he asked. "Would you care for a scone?"

  He held the basket out to her and she smiled at him. "Thank ye, sir," she said, taking the pastry from the basket and accepting the jam pot he handed to her.

  "Sugar?" he asked. "Not that you would need any," he added, "already being as sweet as you are."

  Mara choked on her tea, but the other two didn't seem to notice.

  "Thank ye, sir," Emma breathed, smiling as if he'd offered her heaven instead of tea. "Three lumps, if you please."

  "Of course." Nathaniel dropped three lumps of sugar into the cup. "Would you like lemon or milk?"

  "Oh, a bit of milk would be lovely, sir."

  After adding milk to her tea, Nathaniel handed her the cup, asked about the health of her children, and made several more polite inquiries as to her comfort. She basked in the glow of his attention like a cat in a sunny window. Mara watched, wondering when the girl would start to purr. Privately, she found his solicitous manner excessive, and more than a bit irritating. But she said nothing.

  Finally, when Mara began to wonder if Emma intended to spend the entire morning in their office, Nathaniel asked, "What brings you up here, Emma?"

  She set down her teacup and lowered her gaze. "Well, sir, I was thinking about what you said yesterday, about bringin' ye our ideas."

  He nodded encouragingly. "And you have an idea that might help us?"

  She lifted her gaze to his and took a deep breath. "I was thinkin' we be needin' tin to make these trains of yers. Well, sir, I worked in a foundry, an' I know tin gets pressed into sheets. Mr. Lowenstein said we'd be cutting tin and shapin' it t'fit, but those sheets won't be just the right size, will they, sir? An' there'll be scrap, won't there, sir?"

  "Yes. There's always scrap metal."

  "Well, sir, me boys—I got three boys, one gel—me boys, they goes 'round the neighborhood collectin' scrap, so's I know scrap tin be worth a penny a pound. The men what cut the tin could toss the scrap into barrels as they's workin', sir, an' we could sell it so's it wouldn't go t'waste."

  "That's a very good idea," Nathaniel said. "It wouldn't take any trouble at all. Very clever, Emma!"

  She wriggled in her chair, looking flustered and pleased by the praise. Mara thought the whole thing extremely silly, especially since they were already planning to sell the scrap metal.

  Nathaniel rose and crossed to Mara's desk. He pulled open the drawer where she kept the petty cash and took out a pound note. Closing the drawer, he returned to the table and placed the note in her hand. "Thank you."

  She took the note and rose to her feet, looking up at him with adoration and gratitude. "Thank ye, sir," she breathed, rubbing the note between her fingers. "Oh, thank ye."

  He took her arm and walked her to the door. "You're quite welcome, Emma. You've earned it. And may I say, I'm very glad a clever girl like you is working for us."

  Mara rolled her eyes, wondering how much more of this she could take.

  Emma blushed and tucked the note in her pocket. "I'm glad t'be workin' for ye, sir. Yer a right fine gentleman, an' it's not just me what thinks so. Everybody else does, too. We'll do our best for ye."

  Wi
th that, she finally departed, much to Mara's relief.

  "Charming girl," Nathaniel said as he sat back down.

  "Indeed," Mara said dryly. "Very charming."

  Something in her tone caught his attention, and he gave her a questioning glance.

  "For heaven's sake," Mara said, "why did you do that? I can understand this plan of yours to pay people extra for ideas that save us money, but Emma's idea was one we already had. Did you have to pay her for it?"

  "There are times when we all need a bit of help, Mara. Emma needed the money." He lifted the last scone from the basket and held it up inquiringly. She shook her head and he broke it apart for himself. Spooning the last dabs of cream onto the scone, he said, "Her husband's a drunk, and she finally tossed him out. Now, she has four children to support on her own."

  "What does that have to do with us?" Mara asked, telling herself not to be taken in by a hard-luck story. "Are we now the local toy factory and charity?"

  "When he left, it was payday. He took all her money, and he didn't even leave her enough to pay the rent. She was in desperate straits. If she didn't pay, she would be thrown out in the street and her children right along with her."

  Mara sighed and took a sip of tea. "I didn't know that."

  "Well, these people work for you, too. Perhaps there are some things you should find out about." He lifted the teapot and smiled at her. "More tea?"

  ***

  Mara did find out. That evening, she asked Michael about Emma's situation, and the engineer confirmed what Nathaniel had said, reassuring her that Emma now had the money to pay her rent, at least for the next few weeks.

  Emma's situation bothered her, bringing back painful memories of her own marriage. James had not been a drinking man, but he'd found plenty of other ways to spend their money, and Mara could remember several occasions when she'd been as destitute as Emma, with a daughter of her own and no money to feed her. But, unlike Emma, her husband wouldn't have been found in the local pub. No, James had usually been on a ship bound for some faraway port with creditors dogging his heels. And hers. There had been times when an extra pound could have made all the difference.