Bicycle Built for Two

by Duncan, Alice

  “Stubborn? Stubborn! How dare— Darn!” She picked up her feet and, trotting, caught up with him. “What the heck do you think you’re doing?” She’d stopped yelling, thank God.

  “I’m taking you to get a cup of tea. We’re going to talk like civilized human beings.”

  “I have to work!”

  “Dash it, I’ll pay you for a fortune-telling session! You won’t lose any money, I promise you.”

  “Hmph.”

  A surge of triumph swept over Alex. He figured it was premature, but he could at least congratulate himself on getting the obstreperous Kate Finney to do something he told her to do for once. He’d bet not many people could say that. That this would undoubtedly prove to be the only time he succeeded didn’t matter.

  He didn’t let go of her when they reached the Polish restaurant. It was pure luck that Alex had headed in this direction, and he was glad of it. He could use another sausage and kraut. And another beer. Good God, but this woman was an infuriating baggage. He held on tight and marched her to a table in the middle of the outdoor beer garden. “Sit,” he commanded, pressing her into a chair.

  Kate looked around, her fury transforming to bewilderment, if Alex read her face aright. “I’ve never been in here before.” Her voice was low, as if she didn’t want to be overheard.

  Alex sincerely hoped he was right about that. He didn’t want her hollering at him, especially not in a public restaurant. “They have delicious sausage sandwiches with sauerkraut.”

  “Sauerkraut?” She squinted at him for a second before her expression eased. “Oh, yeah. Sure. I know what that is. Mrs. Schlichter used to give my ma that sometimes. It’s some kind of sour cabbage, isn’t it? German?”

  He nodded. “German, Polish, Prussian. I suppose they all make it over there.”

  “Ah.”

  Alex waved at the waiter who had served him a couple of times before. The portly man smiled broadly as he waddled over to Alex and Kate. He bowed to Kate, who stared at him as if he were something new to her. Which he might be, Alex perceived suddenly. Where she came from, she probably didn’t get bowed at every day in the week. He spoke to the waiter. “Good day to you, Herr Gross. Lovely day, isn’t it?”

  “Ach, ya!” Herr Gross’s voice was as loud as Kate’s had been minutes earlier, but much more friendly. “Anotter beer for you, Herr English? And for the lady?”

  Alex glanced at Kate. He noted with some surprise that she seemed to have shrunk in her chair. It struck him all at once that she was uncomfortable here, in this very commonplace restaurant, and he felt a stab of pity. Because he couldn’t imagine feeling out of place anywhere, much less a restaurant, he smiled at her, trying not to come across to her as patronizing, although that was probably beyond his power. She perceived everything as patronizing, when it came from him. “Miss Finney? Would you care for a glass of beer?”

  Her eyes grew huge, until they reminded Alex of the sapphire-blue crystal Christmas ornaments his parents had bought one year when they traveled through France. “Beer? Are you out of your mind?”

  Alex recollected Kate’s father, and cursed himself. Because he didn’t want to make a scene, he asked, keeping his tone pleasant, “Would you prefer lemonade?”

  She opened her mouth, and Alex braced himself to receive a splash of vitriol. But Kate only cast one apprehensive glance at the jovial Herr Gross, looked away again just as quickly, and said, “Yes, please.”

  Alex smiled at the waiter. “One beer and one lemonade, please.”

  “Ya, ya. And will you be having another of our delicious sausages and kraut, Herr English?”

  “Yes, please.” Alex glanced at Kate. She was looking around the restaurant as if she expected to be attacked by marauding Huns any second. He opted to decide for her. “And one for the lady, please.”

  With a last exuberant bow, Herr Gross went away to fetch the provender. Alex watched Kate with mounting curiosity for several seconds. Although he’d rather shocked himself when he’d first started hauling her away from her booth, Alex was glad now that he’d done it. If he’d known how easy it was to get her to shut up, he’d have taken her to a restaurant sooner. Folding his hands, he placed them on the table, leaned over slightly, and spoke to Kate in a soft voice.

  “Now, Miss Finney, perhaps we can hold a conversation without shouting at each other.”

  He saw her lips tighten, but she still looked nervous. “I won’t shout.” Actually, she’d lowered her voice until Alex could scarcely hear her. Another jolt of sorrow for her circumstances went through him. He thanked God he’d been born of a good family in respectable circumstances, and wondered why he’d never thought to do so before.

  “Thank you,” he said. “And now I’d like to clear something up, because I want there to be no mistake about my intentions regarding you or your mother.”

  She watched him like a bird being stalked by a hungry Tom cat. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” The word felt funny on his tongue. “I want nothing from you in payment for helping your mother, Miss Finney. Nothing. Not a single thing. Is that clear?”

  She hesitated. “I guess.” Her lips pressed together again for only a moment. “But I still don’t understand.”

  Alex felt his anger stir and strove to keep it in check. Unfolding his hands, he poked the table with his forefinger. “I am not a monster, Miss Finney. Nor am I an unreasonable man.”

  She opened her mouth, but didn’t use it to speak. Rather, she huffed softly and shut it again.

  “I am very sorry your mother has had such a hard life. I’m also sorry that your own circumstances have been so difficult.”

  “Huh,” she said, as if she didn’t believe him. “I don’t need your pity, darn it.”

  Alex sighed. “Of course, you don’t. I’m not offering you pity. I’m trying to understand how difficult life must be for you. You have to bear far too much responsibility for so young a woman.”

  She eyed him slantwise. “A lot you know about it.”

  Alex gave up on that tack. She wasn’t going to give an inch. He could practically see the chip on her shoulder grow as he spoke. “I went to the hospital yesterday not because I wanted to dig into your private life, but because you asked me for a ride there. I wanted to find out why, although I acknowledge your life is none of my business.”

  “Right,” said Kate.

  Alex didn’t take the bait. “I found out, and I met your mother. The poor woman is very ill, as you know.” He added the last phrase because he didn’t want her to smite him with her well-developed sense of sarcasm. “I wanted to help her. I suppose that in helping her, I’m also helping you, but that wasn’t my intention, in case you wondered.”

  She eyed him sullenly. “I wondered.”

  “Well, then.” He sat back in his chair, glad to have cleared up the doubts in Kate’s mind. “Now you know.”

  “And you don’t want anything from me in return?” She still looked skeptical, although not quite as much as before.

  “Nothing. I want nothing from you.”

  “Huh.”

  Herr Gross showed up with Kate’s lemonade and Alex’s beer, and the two stopped talking. Alex sipped his beer, glad to have something to do with his mouth besides talk.

  Kate took a delicate sip of lemonade and looked at him again. Her expression was wary, and again Alex got the impression of a small animal being stalked by a large one. He decided a smile wouldn’t be out of place under the circumstances, so he gave her one. “Do you like your lemonade?”

  She nodded and gestured at his own foamy glass. It was a small gesture. Alex got the feeling she didn’t want anyone else to notice her, although that was impossible since she was presently garbed as a Gypsy fortune teller. Her costume was, to say the least, exceptional among all the fashionably clad folks dining in the Polish Garden. But people were, for the most part, polite, and no one gaped at her after taking a second glance. “Do you drink much of that stuff?”

  The question startled
him. “Beer?”

  “Yeah. Do you drink much?”

  “No. I enjoy a glass of beer with these sausages. Otherwise, I guess I don’t drink anything at all. Why?”

  She looked away from his face. “No reason. Just wondered.”

  Alex remembered Kate’s father, and understanding smote him. “I’m not like your father, Miss Finney,” he said stiffly.

  She gave him a glacial stare. “No, you’re not. You’re rich, and you’re not a pig.”

  Alex felt his eyes open wide. “Thank you. I think.”

  She didn’t smile, but sipped more lemonade. Herr Gross brought two steaming platters heaped with food and set a plate in front of Kate, and one in front of Alex. “Enjoy!” he commanded them with a merry laugh before trundling off to wait on others who’d entered the restaurant. Taking out his gold pocket watch and squinting at it, Alex realized the day wasn’t far advanced. It was, in fact, rather early for luncheon, but he still considered this move a brilliant one on his part.

  He dug into his own lunch with relish. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was. Kate, he noticed, looked slightly daunted at the huge amount of food Herr Gross had set before her. “Don’t worry about finishing it,” he said, feeling benevolent. “I won’t scold you for not cleaning your plate.” He’d thought he was being funny.

  Evidently, he’d thought wrong. “This could feed my brothers and me for two days, Mr. English. I guess we haven’t learned how to waste food yet. Maybe when I get rich, we will.”

  Alex expelled a breath of exasperation. “Perhaps when you get rich, you’ll learn some manners, as well.” He stabbed at another piece of sausage and delivered it to his mouth and followed it up with a bite of potato. Miss Kate Finney was possibly the most exasperating female he’d ever met in his life. He absolutely hated it that she viewed him with contempt.

  His astonishment was real when he saw the wretched female appear to be ashamed of herself. He was even more taken aback when she said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be hateful.”

  Since he was still chewing, Alex grunted.

  “I’m not used to people doing nice things for me. Thank you.” It sounded as though the last two-word sentence nearly choked her.

  Alex decided not to prolong the argument with a bitter retort. Rather, after he’d swallowed, he said, “You’re welcome. Now eat your lunch.”

  She apparently couldn’t make herself thank him again, because she only nodded, cut off a small bite of sausage, roll, and sauerkraut, and lifted it to her mouth. It was a pretty mouth. Alex had noticed that before. He didn’t dare watch her closely, for fear of igniting that ghastly temper of hers, but he did study her surreptitiously as he sipped more of his beer. She was still ill at ease; that much was plain, and it made his interest in her and her circumstances grow. He doubted that she’d ever feel at ease in his company, but he decided he’d make a push to get her to relax. As long as his association with her mother was a fixed thing—until the poor woman died, he thought unhappily—he couldn’t very well avoid Kate.

  In an attempt to achieve detente, he said, “I like to put some of this mustard on my sausage and kraut. It brings out the tang.”

  Kate lifted her gaze from her plate, where it had been stuck. “Yeah?” She shrugged with a fair imitation of her usual insouciance. “Maybe I’ll give it a try. It’s pretty tangy already.” A fleeting grin decorated her face.

  Alex took heart. Maybe she wasn’t a hopeless case. He grinned back. “It is that, all right. I like it.” Taking a chance that speaking of his own mother might make her feel more comfortable, he said, “My mother doesn’t make sauerkraut. I guess that’s because my family’s from a different part of Europe, and it’s not in our heritage.”

  Her mouth twisted wryly. “You mean your mother cooks? You haven’t hired somebody to cook for her?”

  He laid his knife and fork on his plate, lifted his napkin, and patted his lips, glaring at her the while. When he set his napkin back in his lap, he said, “Dash it, Miss Finney, do you always have to say something provocative every time anyone says anything at all to you? I was attempting to forge some kind of bond between us.”

  She looked at him cautiously. “A bond? Why a bond? What sort of bond?”

  He flung his arms out, barely missing Herr Gross. “Any sort of bond! I have, if you’ll recall, begun caring for your mother. I don’t expect your thanks or your gratitude, but life might be more pleasant if you’d stop snapping at me every time I extend a comment in friendship.”

  A lengthy pause preceded her next words. “Friendship?”

  If he ever, God forbid, met another female as unpleasant and caustic and downright ill-natured as Kate Finney again in this lifetime, he prayed that he’d have sense enough to turn tail and run away from her as fast as he could. Even holding a civil conversation with this woman was next to impossible. “You have, undoubtedly, the world’s largest chip on your shoulder, Miss Finney. I hope you know that.”

  Her gaze fell first. She muttered, “Aw, nuts,” and resumed eating her lunch. She did spread a little mustard on her sausage first. Alex wondered if that meant anything, conciliation-wise. He doubted it.

  Chapter Five

  Kate peered around the door jamb before she dared enter her mother’s room that evening. She didn’t want to run into Alex English, mainly because she had nothing to say to him. He scared her.

  But that was silly. Kate could take care of herself in any situation. She’d grown up fighting for survival, and Alex English was sure no match for some of the thugs she’d bested in her short career as a human being. Besides, he’d never make an untoward advance. It had become painfully clear to Kate earlier in the day that he’d rather die than think of her as a woman. She was just a poor little, not-quite-grown-up street urchin whose mother was sick.

  The knowledge ate into her guts like a canker.

  “Darn him,” she muttered under her breath as she surveyed the room. He wasn’t there, thank goodness, so she entered, sauntering and jaunty. She’d die sooner than let her mother perceive even a hint of her inner turmoil.

  Tiptoeing to her mother’s bed so as not to awaken her if she was sleeping, Kate looked around at the room. Somebody—she knew who—had sent Ma some flowers. Her heart twisted slightly, knowing that Alex English could afford to send her mother flowers, when Kate herself couldn’t. She tried to think charitable thoughts about him. After all, her mother loved flowers. Kate was glad she had that pretty bouquet of roses and daisies and baby’s breath to cheer her.

  But darn it all, Kate wanted to be able to do nice things for her mother. She didn’t want some rich stranger doing them.

  Even working two jobs, Kate didn’t have the spare change for a bouquet like that. The best she could ever come up with was a bouquet plucked from bushes in the park—and that was provided the grounds keepers didn’t see her doing it and make her stop. She sighed and sat in the chair beside her mother’s bed.

  Mrs. Finney looked awful. With a feeling of doom in her soul, Kate gazed at her, thinking once more that she looked dead already. Please, Ma, don’t die. She’d never say those words aloud.

  When Kate contemplated her mother’s death, she felt as if she were disintegrating from the inside. She didn’t know what she’d do without her mother, who had been her rock and her mainstay for her whole life. Hazel Finney had loved her children with everything she had, ruining her health as she’d done it. Kate knew that her mother had gone without food and warm clothes in order to make sure her children didn’t want for necessities. Luxuries had ever been beyond her, but she’d made sure her children had the necessities. While Kate’s father drank his family’s food money, Hazel had taken in laundry and done anything she could to keep potatoes in the pantry. Potatoes and beans and cabbage. That’s what the Finney children had eaten.

  Recalling the gigantic lunch Alex English had bought for her earlier in the day, Kate felt like crying. She’d been unable to finish it, and she’d have liked to take it home to give
to one of her brothers, but she’d been too embarrassed to ask if such things were done in fancy restaurants. Darned fool. She ought to have just come out and asked. Alex already knew she was poor as dirt. Kate knew better than to shy away from the truth, because avoiding it didn’t put food on the table. She’d thought she was long past pride, but she guessed she was wrong.

  “Katie? Is that you?”

  Her mother’s papery hand reached for Kate’s, and Kate’s attention snapped back to the here and now. “It’s me, Ma.” She strove to keep her voice light and cheerful. “How’re you feeling?”

  “I’m fine, Katie. That nice Mr. English brought me those beautiful flowers. Did you see them?”

  It worried Kate that her mother didn’t open her eyes, although she was smiling. Kate guessed the smile was some sort of a good sign. “Yeah, Ma. I saw them. They’re real pretty.”

  “He’s a nice man, Katie.”

  “Right.” Darn it, he was a nice man. At least to her mother. Kate hated to admit it. Because she thought her mother would like to know, she said, “He took me to lunch today.”

  This snatch of information opened Mrs. Finney’s eyes. “Did he?”

  She appeared troubled now, and Kate cursed herself. “He only wanted to assure me that he didn’t want anything from me, Ma. Don’t worry.” Kate knew how much her mother fretted about her children. With good reason. Kate wouldn’t have been the first child from Chicago’s worst neighborhoods to go to the bad. Kate knew girls she’d grown up with who worked as prostitutes, and more than one of them took drugs and drank to excess, probably to forget what they had to do for a living. “I swore years ago that I’d never do anything you wouldn’t want me to do, Ma. You know that.”

  Her mother’s smile wavered and fell. “I know it, Katie.”

  “Aw, Ma, please don’t cry. I’m having a great time working at the fair. You don’t have to worry about me or the boys. We’re fine.”

  More or less. Kate’s younger brother Bill worked in the butcher shop under Kate’s little apartment. Her older brother Walter worked in one of Chicago’s slaughter houses. It was smelly work, but it paid pretty well. Bill had also started investing a very little bit of money, which was all he had, in the stock market. So far he’d been lucky, and Kate made sure he didn’t take chances.