Bicycle Built for Two

by Duncan, Alice

  Madame’s reaction was exactly as Kate expected it to be. “What does he want from you? He gonna make you quit your jobs here at the fair?”

  With a shrug, Kate forced herself to get up and head for the makeup table. “I don’t know. I was going to search him out, but I was running late—it took me forever to find Ma’s new room at Saint Mildred’s—and I decided to let him come to me. I’m afraid he will, too,” she added glumly.

  “Mmmm,” said Madame.

  Kate recognized the sound as one of agreement. “I guess it would be a good idea to wear that silly black band I used to dance in until these darned bruises go away, even in the booth.”

  Madame nodded and grunted.

  And, with explanations taken care of, Kate got busy with her makeup. She expected Alex English to show up sometime this day, and didn’t know whether she wanted him to or not. She knew she probably should thank him for improving her mother’s lot in life, but she didn’t want to. She also couldn’t imagine what his motivation had been.

  If he thought Kate Finney was one of those women; if he expected her to do something of which Kate disapproved, he’d learn his mistake in no time flat. She might even add a touch of physical emphasis. It would feel good to smack his insolent face.

  A notion that she might be the least little bit unreasonable when it came to Alex English crossed Kate’s mind, but it didn’t stick around to plague her.

  Chapter Four

  Alex was feeling rather proud of himself when he left the Agricultural Building and headed for the Midway. Not even Gil MacIntosh could accuse him of being anything other than a open-handed, generous man now. Not after he’d paid to have Mrs. Finney transferred to a private room.

  His insides gave a small shudder when he recalled meeting Mrs. Finney for the first time, and of walking down that row of pathetic cots with their pathetic human contents. He almost wished he could rescue all of those afflicted souls, but he didn’t have that much money. He felt better about Mrs. Finney, though. Much better.

  Of course Alex couldn’t very well go around boasting of his benevolent deed, but he had no doubt whatever that Kate Finney would spread the word. She’d have to. After all, Alex was helping her out, wasn’t he? He was feeling so good about himself, in fact, that he even broke into song at one point. No one else was around at the time, or he’d never have done such an unconventional thing.

  “Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do. I’m half crazy, all for the love of you.” He liked the tune. It was bright and perky and fitted his mood today. When he got to Madame Esmeralda’s fortune-telling booth, he hesitated for only a moment. He didn’t know why he hesitated even that long, unless it was because he was slightly nervous about being the recipient Miss Kate Finney’s exuberant thanks. Not that he didn’t deserve them.

  He pushed the door open slowly, not wanting to interrupt anything if there were a fortune being told inside the booth. The lighting inside the booth was so dim, it took several seconds for his eyes to adjust to the change from bright sunlight.

  In fact, he discovered when he could see again, there were two fortunes being told. Without making any further noise, he stood in the darkened booth and watched the goings-on with interest for a few moments.

  Kate, who sat across from a hefty matron at the far table, had lifted her head upon his entry, but hadn’t acknowledged his presence by doing anything else. She didn’t even give a smile or a nervous start. After he removed his hat and set it on the rack conveniently placed beside the door, Alex frowned and took a seat on one of the hard-backed chairs lined up against the front wall.

  “You see this line?” Kate asked her victim—rather, her client—tracing a line on the older woman’s palm as she spoke. “The depth of this line indicates that your family connections will remain strong throughout your life. Any time you see a line this deep and well-defined, you can be sure it means permanence—or as close to permanence as one can get in this life.” A smile flickered across her pretty mouth.

  The older woman’s smile came and stayed. “Oh, I’m so glad. I do so love my children and family.”

  “Yes.” Kate lightly tapped the woman’s palm. “I can tell. And this,” she went on, indicating another part of the woman’s fleshy hand, “indicates to me that you don’t want for much in the way of material goods.”

  “My husband is a very generous man,” the woman said, her voice complacent.

  “I can tell.” Kate, on the other hand, sounded as if she’d just drunk vinegar. “How lucky you are.”

  Alex wasn’t sure what to make of it. On the one hand, he found the older woman’s smug air of self-satisfaction hard to take. To judge by her tone, she believed wealth and comfort her due, as if her station in life was something she’d created with her own soft hands; hands that were unused to hard work. Alex imagined Kate found people like this woman trying, at best. He recalled the face of Kate’s mother, and his own innards squinched a little.

  Poor Mrs. Finney. He’d done a good deed yesterday; there was no denying it. He was proud of himself. Now he had good reason to feel a degree of self-satisfaction today, because he’d earned it. Unlike the woman simpering there across the table from Kate. Kate’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

  “You will be happily married for many more years.”

  “Oh, my.” The woman giggled. “I’ll be sure to tell Godfrey that.”

  Godfrey, Alex supposed, was the woman’s husband. Poor bastard.

  But that was unkind. Alex didn’t know but that Mrs. Godfrey Whatever was an admirable specimen of womankind under her layers of fat and complacency. He eyed the woman again and doubted it.

  “And I do see a long trip for pleasure in your future, too.” Kate’s voice was kind of like the purr of a cat, Alex decided, when she was telling fortunes. When she spoke to him, she sounded more like an infuriated tigress.

  “Europe,” Mrs. Godfrey said with conviction. “I’m sure Godfrey is going to surprise me with another trip to Europe. Or perhaps this time, we’ll go to Egypt.”

  “Really? I’d love to go to Europe. Or Egypt. I’d love to see the Sphinx and the pyramids.” Kate’s voice had taken on a wistful quality that made Alex’s heart twist uncharacteristically. “I love reading about all the discoveries people are making there.”

  “It’s terribly dirty in Egypt,” Mrs. Godfrey declared, as if dirt were something she cared not for. “Although Shepheard’s is a rather nice hotel.”

  “Ah,” said Kate. She sat back in her chair and released the woman’s hands. “That’s it, Mrs. Gentry. I see nothing but good times ahead for you—barring the natural unpleasantnesses that life has in store for all of us.”

  Mrs. Godfrey Gentry’s chair scraped as she pushed it away from the table. She got to her feet amid a fluff and rustle of bombazine and petticoats. Aiming a glorious smile down at Kate, as if she were bestowing a blessing upon an underling, she said, “Thank you so much, Madame Katherine. You’re a wonderful fortune-teller, my dear. I do believe you deserve more than you charged me.” She fished in her large handbag and produced a coin, which she held out to Kate.

  Although he wasn’t sure why, Alex bridled on Kate’s behalf. That dashed Gentry woman was speaking to her as if Kate were a servant in her mansion or something.

  “Thank you very much. I appreciate your generosity.” Kate rose, too, without scraping her chair and without a rustle or a fluff. Alex wasn’t surprised. She was amazingly graceful for a girl out of the— Alex stopped himself before he could pass another judgment on Kate Finney because of her unfortunate birth. Her family, as she had been quick to point out to him more than once, wasn’t her fault.

  And, really, her mother had been quite pleasant. Obviously, the woman had deplorable sense and no discernment, or she’d never have ended up with Kate’s father, but she still seemed a congenial woman. Unlike her daughter, who was approximately as genial as stinging nettles. Alex rose from his chair and bowed as Mrs. Gentry swept past him and out the door.

 
“Come with me.”

  To his shock, Kate grabbed him by the coat sleeve and tugged at it. He stared down at her in bemusement. “Where? Why?”

  In a harsh whisper, Kate said, “Darn it, we need to talk, and we can’t do it while Madame’s working.”

  Alex glanced around the booth. He’d managed to overlook Madame and her client entirely, so engrossed had he been with Kate and hers. He didn’t understand his oversight, either, since Madame was much closer to his chair than Kate had been. “Oh.” He reached for his hat. “I see.”

  Kate marched him out of the booth, around to the back, stopped walking and turned to face him. Alex had been rather hoping she’d guide him to a concessionaire’s stand and take a cup of tea with him or something, although he had no idea why. He didn’t even like her. It was illogical for him to want to take tea with the girl.

  He didn’t understand why she’d narrowed her eyes into mean-tempered slits and was now frowning up at him. It was quite a way up at that, since he was a little over six feet tall, and she was only slightly over the five-foot mark. It was the first time he’d taken note of her lively blue eyes. They snapped and sparkled in the sunlight, and made for an odd but intriguing contrast to her Gypsy attire and dark makeup. Although he didn’t really know anything about Gypsies, he’d always assumed they had dark skin, dark hair, and dark eyes. Kate’s hair was a dark reddish brown and her skin, except when she painted it, was fair. And she had eyes the color of a clear summer sky. At the moment, she also had her fists planted firmly on her hips and was standing braced like a boxer about to punch an opponent out of the ring.

  “How come you put my mother in a private room?”

  Alex caught his breath. He hadn’t anticipated such a sudden and stark attack. Actually, he hadn’t anticipated any kind of attack. He’d rather hoped for some thanks. His lips thinned when he realized how silly it had been of him to expect thanks from this quarter. He tried to keep his temper in check. “Your mother is a very sick woman, Miss Finney.”

  “You think I don’t know that?”

  “Of course, you know it. But you can’t pay for the best medical care for her. I can. It’s simple, really.”

  “It’s not that simple, Mr. Alex English, and you know it. Until yesterday, you didn’t know me from Adam—”

  “Eve,” Alex corrected.

  She stamped her foot. “Darn it, don’t you dare laugh at me!”

  He held his hands out in an I-give-up gesture. “I’m not laughing, believe me. I’ve seldom felt less like laughing.”

  “Then answer my question!”

  Alex gazed down at her for several uncomfortable moments before he crossed his arms over his chest. He wanted to understand her attitude, but it wasn’t easy to do. “Why are you being so belligerent, Miss Finney?”

  “I’m not belligerent!” she shouted. Realizing she’d raised her voice, she hissed, “I’m not a fool, either, Mr. Alex English. I want an answer.”

  “Why do you call me Mr. Alex English, Miss Finney. I don’t understand why you need to use my name as a bludgeon. You may call me simply Mr. English, if you like. Or even Alex, if you want—”

  “I don’t.”

  Alex smiled wryly. “Yes, I imagined you wouldn’t, although I’m not sure why.”

  “You’re not sure why?” Kate did a fairly good job of looking incredulous, although Alex imagined nothing much ever surprised her. She’d grown up in surroundings that killed off most people before they got to be her age. He imagined she went to great pains not to be surprised by anything—which might, he thought suddenly, be one of the problems here.

  “Listen, Miss Finney, I know we got off to a rocky start—”

  “Ha! You tried to throw me out of the Exposition!”

  He nodded with some comprehension. “I didn’t, actually, but I understand why you might harbor that opinion.”

  “Nuts. You were going to make me leave without even meeting me first, and you know it. You were going to deprive me of my livelihood because my father’s a no-good son of a bitch—er, gun, I mean. Darn it, don’t lie to me! And I want to know why you put Ma in a private room!”

  Alex hesitated and glanced at their surroundings, hoping no one he knew would walk by. Dash it, why was the woman getting so overwrought? It was embarrassing, standing out here with her screaming at him like a fishwife. “Keep your voice down, please, Miss Finney,” he whispered, hoping to inspire her by example.

  “Very well,” she whispered back. “Why? Why? What do you want from me? Darn it, if you think I’m one of those women, you’d just better think again!”

  Alex goggled at her. “What is the name of heaven are you talking about?”

  Kate’s lips pressed together once, and Alex could swear he saw the color creeping into her cheeks under all that outlandish Gypsy paint. “Just answer me, will you? Why did you put Ma in a private room?”

  Hoping that honesty would keep her from yelling again, Alex decided to tell the truth—as much of it as he himself understood. In a loud whisper, he admitted, “I—Dash it, I felt sorry for her.” Because he felt compelled to, he added, “And you.”

  The play of emotions on Kate’s face was fascinating to behold. Alex clearly saw fury, shame, and pain chase each other across her expressive countenance. He wasn’t happy to behold any of them.

  Kate’s voice shook when next she spoke. “Don’t you dare feel sorry for me, Mr. Rich Man English. I don’t need your damned pity!”

  Alex, who never swore himself unless he was alone, and who was shocked when he heard profanity fall from the lips of gentlemen, was aghast when the word left Kate’s mouth. “Well, really, there’s no need for—”

  “What?” Her body had taken to shaking in time with her voice. “What is there no need for? Me to say damn? Or your pity?”

  “Dash it, I don’t pity you! I do feel very sorry for your mother, and whether you want to admit it or not, I can afford to pay for better medical care than you can!”

  “But why?” Kate shouted. “Why are you paying for it?”

  Damned if he knew. Alex couldn’t say that. Especially not after being shocked at Kate for swearing. “I like your mother, Miss Finney. She’s a—a very nice woman.”

  “Yes,” Kate said, her voice still wobbling precariously. “She is. But she’s nothing to you.”

  “That’s not true. I met her. She’s in my life now. I couldn’t—I can’t—” Alex felt helpless. He didn’t know what had compelled him to help Mrs. Finney. “Dash it, she deserves better.”

  His astonishment when Kate wiped a tear from her eye was totally unfeigned. He hadn’t believed the wench had a tear in her.

  “Yes,” she said. “She deserves better. She’s always deserved better. But not from you.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Miss Finney! You’re being ridiculous!”

  “Am I?” Obviously, Kate Finney wasn’t one to wallow in emotion. That single tiny tear was the only one she allowed herself. She was back in full form immediately, and as cranky as ever.

  “Yes. If I want to pay for your mother to have more comfortable surroundings, why should you object?”

  “Because I don’t trust you.”

  The flat statement, rendered in a toneless voice, deprived Alex of thought for a moment. “You—you—what?” Never, in his entire almost thirty years of life, had anyone dared to say such a thing to him, because he’d never given anyone reason to speak those words. He prided himself on his trustworthiness. His honor. His integrity. His word was his oath, dash it.

  “I don’t trust you,” Kate repeated. “I don’t believe anybody in the world, and especially not you, would do something like that for my family.”

  “For your mother,” Alex growled. The dashed woman refused to understand. The fact that he didn’t understand, either, didn’t make the situation any more comfortable.

  “She’s my family.”

  Alex acknowledged the truth of Kate’s statement with a nod, but he didn’t want to.


  “So,” Kate continued in her curiously flat voice. “What I want to know now, is what do you want from me.”

  Alex threw up his arms. “Nothing! For heaven’s sake, Miss Finney, what do you take me for?”

  “What do you take me for?” she countered. “I’m not going to play house with you, if that’s what you’re driving at.”

  Alex’s mouth fell open. Kate’s color deepened.

  This time Alex’s voice shook. “I have never, ever, been so offended, Miss Finney. If you think I’m the kind of man who would—who would—who could— Oh, dash it!”

  Kate didn’t say anything. She stood before him, glaring up at him like some kind of madwoman, her small body trembling with rage. And she believed him to be a cad. A depraved rake. A bounder. He couldn’t stand it. “Come with me.”

  And he took her by the arm and began marching her off to a concession stand or a restaurant. He didn’t care which, as long as it was nearby. She dug in her heels, but she probably weighed a good fifty pounds less than he did, she was almost a foot shorter, and she was no match for him when it came to physical strength. Alex, who had never, in his whole life, forced a woman to do anything at all, dragged her along like a pirate of old might have taken a hostage. He was so angry, he didn’t even look to see if they were being observed by other fair-goers.

  “What are you doing?” she screeched.

  “Be quiet.” He glanced over his shoulder at her—she was hanging back as if she believed he was taking her to be executed. “And if you value your shoes, you’d better pick up your feet. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to have to buy another pair of shoes just because you’re being stubborn.”