Good Gad, had she really? A slaughterhouse? An internal shudder rattled him. Kate Finney’s life sounded like pure hell to Alex. He spared a moment to marvel that his opinions about her had undergone such a profound change in the short time he’d known her. “I see.”
She glared at him. The light in the carriage was dim at best, but Alex felt that glare through his entire being and braced himself. He was beginning to anticipate Kate’s reactions to what she perceived as slights or insults.
“You don’t, either, see,” she said sharply. “How could you? You’re a rich man, not a poor woman.”
“Right.” He pondered the futility of trying to explain himself and decided he might as well. Why not? The hospital was still a few blocks away. Who knew? He might even get through to her one of these days, although he doubted it. “I’m a man who is comfortably situated in the world.” He spoke judiciously, hoping not to rile her any more than usual.
She muttered, “Huh.”
“I know you think I was born rich, but I wasn’t. My family’s circumstances have always been comfortable. I understand that yours were not. That, as you’re fond of pointing out, isn’t your fault. It isn’t my fault, either, however, and I find myself becoming rather tired of being picked on because I wasn’t born poor. You’re a real snob, Miss Finney, did you know that?”
“Me? A snob?” Her voice rose. “What are you talking about?”
“You. You look down your pretty little nose at everyone who wasn’t born in your same circumstances. That’s not fair of you. I’m doing my best, given my circumstances. You’re doing your best, given yours. I’d say we were pretty equal.”
“Equal. Sure. We’re about as equal as the queen of England and a mud lark.”
“Which one of us is the mud lark?” He smiled.
Kate didn’t. “You are.”
“I figured as much.” Alex thought about giving up and decided not to. “You’re a lot of work, Miss Finney. Did you know that?”
“I am not! It’s not my fault you decided to help my mother!”
He smiled. “Your mother isn’t any work at all. You’re the one who causes all the trouble.”
“Nuts.” She turned her head, probably to look out the window. Alex had pulled the curtains, however, so there was nothing to look at but cloth.
“No nuts. It’s the truth. Every time anybody tries to do anything at all for you or a member of your family, you suspect them of underhanded motives. Every time anybody says anything, you assume they mean something else.” He made an effort to keep his expression mild as she gave up staring at the curtain and glared at him. “You know it’s the truth, Kate.”
“Huh.”
Silence settled over them, much to Alex’s relief. Deciding not to break into it because he knew speech from him would only precipitate another argument, he contemplated his traveling companion. She presented a complex problem, did Kate Finney.
Truth to tell, he was beginning to wonder why he even tried with her, but something inside him kept propelling him. He liked Bill Finney. He liked Hazel Finney. Kate Finney was a major challenge, but one that Alex found intriguing. It had become important to him, some time between the day he’d met her and now, that he break down her defenses. Not in a bad way. Not in a way that would hurt her. He wanted to get through to her, to prove to her that not everybody in the world was against her and her family. He thought it would be to Kate’s benefit to learn to trust someone someday, and why shouldn’t that someone be Alex English?
And how he was going to accomplish that monumental task was presently beyond his ken. She was a woman who had grown up living in fear of the one man in her life who was supposed to have been her protection and haven. Her defenses were thick and solid. It would take a lot of patience and endless endurance, and he wasn’t sure he was up to it. Or even why he cared. She was wearing him out.
He didn’t have to worry about it for more than another few minutes, because his carriage arrived at the hospital, and his coachman pulled as close to the front stairs as he could. Recalling the first time he’d driven Kate to the hospital, Alex was pleased to note that she didn’t seem inclined to leap out of the carriage and run away from him this time. Rather, she waited for him to open the door, let down the stairs, and take her arm to assist her. Just like a real, honest-to-God lady.
It wasn’t much, but it was something, and he felt irrationally encouraged.
# # #
Kate hurried down the hospital corridors in front of Alex, unwilling to walk at his side or allow him to hold her arm. Embarrassment and rage seemed to be her constant companions around him, and they were wearing her to a frazzle.
She’d always pretty much accepted the way she had to live before she met him. Nowadays, every time anything bad happened to her—like that guy outside the Egyptian Pavilion—Kate saw it as a reflection on her way of life, her moral worth, her character, and her overall unfitness to be among the living. It wasn’t fair. Nothing was fair.
And now he was taking her mother away from her.
Aw, nuts. She was being totally irrational. Ma would never abandon her Katie. Never.
She pushed the door open before Alex could open it for her like the gentleman he was, and tiptoed into the room. She noted with relief that her mother was sitting up in bed, talking to a nursing sister. She looked awful, but maybe not quite as awful as she had that morning. Kate took heart.
“Hey, Ma,” she called out in the cheeriest voice she could create, given her state of nerves and exhaustion. “You’re sitting up.” Sitting up was an encouraging sign; Kate knew it in her bones.
Her mother’s face brightened. “Katie. I’m so glad you came.”
“I always come, Ma. You know that.” She took her mother’s hand, bent over to kiss her cheek, and stood again. She smiled the nun, who had stepped back and was beaming down upon them, as if she were witnessing a touching family reunion. Little did she know.
Kate told herself not to be sarcastic, or she’d turn into a bitter old woman before she was out of her twenties.
“And Mr. English came, too.” Mrs. Finney’s cheeks took on a tiny bit of color. “You’re too good to me, Mr. English. But I’m so grateful.”
“Nonsense. It’s good to see you looking more the thing.” Alex came over to the bed, took Hazel Finney’s hand in one of his and patted it with the other.
Kate experienced an uncomfortable twisting in her gut and tried to ignore it. She turned to the nun. “How’s she doing?” Kate had become accustomed to taking on the responsibilities her mother and father would have assumed if her mother had been healthy and her father a decent human being. She didn’t really mind—well, except about her father—and she’d be darned if she’d relinquish her duties to Alex English, a man who had been a perfect stranger until he got a bug in his ear about her.
“Much better.”
The nun had a soft voice and a slight accent. She was kind of pretty, and Kate wondered why a pretty woman would give up the chance to have a husband and family in order to marry Jesus and join the church. Then again, maybe the woman had been born on the wrong side of the tracks and had been cursed with a father like Kate’s. Kate’s father might affect anybody’s willingness to undertake the bonds of matrimony.
There she went again. Kate scolded herself for being cynical.
“Did the new doctor come to see you today, Mrs. Finney?” Alex asked.
“New doctor?” Kate glanced from the nun to Alex, her worry gauge quivering. “What new doctor?”
“I have a friend whose brother is a physician, Miss Finney. I asked him to recommend a doctor who specializes in tuberculosis. I wanted him to examine Mrs. Finney before we take a long trek to the country.”
Blast and hell! The damned man was, by God, taking over her life. Kate had been in charge of things relating to her family for as long as she could remember. She’d only met Alex a couple of weeks ago, and already she felt as if everything was slipping from her grasp. She didn’t like it. �
��I see.”
“He was a very nice doctor, Katie. He only wanted to make sure I was getting the proper rest and medications.”
The tone of worry in her mother’s voice smote Kate on the conscience. Nuts. She forced a smile. “That’s good, Ma. I’m sure he was nice.” It cost her, but she had to ask. “Did he say you were getting the right medication?”
“He prescribed a cough syrup he thinks will be better for soothing the spasms.”
“Good. That’s good.” It was good; Kate couldn’t deny it. Turning once more to Alex, she said through her teeth, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
He looked as if he recognized her attitude as one of jealousy and resentment, softened by unwilling gratitude, and found it amusing. Kate didn’t think anything about her mother’s situation was amusing. She really didn’t like strangers outside her family taking over, either. Oh, yeah, sure, he had money and Kate didn’t, but that was no reason to do things without consulting her, and she aimed to tell him so as soon as they left her mother’s room.
Alex pulled up a chair and indicated with a gesture that Kate should sit on it, so she did. She tried to unclench her teeth at the same time. She didn’t want to show Ma how upset she was. The nun murmured something and left the room. Kate was glad to see her go.
“Did you discuss our proposed trip to the country with Dr. Daugherty, Mrs. Finney?”
There he went again. Taking over. Because she didn’t want to start a fight in front of Ma but wanted to show Alex who was the boss here, Kate stuck in an oar. “Yeah, Ma. Mr. English told me he’d talked to you about a trip to his farm. What do you think?”
“I think it sounds heavenly,” Mrs. Finney said. Her eyes were shining, which was something they hadn’t done very often in Kate’s lifetime.
“Did the doc think so?” Kate squeezed her mother’s hand, determined to resume her proper role as leading lady in her family’s own personal play on the stage of life.
“He said that if I don’t overdo, the country air might be good for me.”
“Good!”
Alex’s hearty voice startled Kate. She glanced over to find him rubbing his hands together. He reminded her of The Great Fontini, a man who called himself a magician and who used to play the street corners in her neighborhood. People tossed coins at him when he did his tricks. After he collected enough coins, he went to the corner saloon and loaded up. “Yeah,” she said. “That’s real good, Ma.”
# # #
Mrs. Finney’s strength gave out soon after Kate and Alex arrived at the hospital, so their visit didn’t last long. Alex felt exceptionally good about Mrs. Finney, though. He was doing all the right things for her, and the knowledge made him glad. Even if the younger Finney woman didn’t appreciate him.
He knew—and he knew Mrs. Finney knew—that the eventual result of her illness was death, but he was doing all he could to make her final days as pleasant as possible. Thanks to him, they were going to be a lot nicer than she must have expected. He couldn’t understand why Kate was in such a fuss this evening, though. She ought to be pleased that her mother was looking forward to something for once in her unhappy life.
They’d exited the hospital and were approaching the stairs down to the street. Alex’s coach awaited his pleasure, as usual, and Alex anticipated driving Kate to her apartment. He was curious about how and where she lived. She couldn’t afford much of a place, he supposed, and he wondered if her brothers helped her out. From his viewpoint, Alex thought the men of the Finney family ought to make her live with one of them, although his own experience with their sister had taught him how little Kate cottoned to the roles most people accepted as appropriate for males and females.
Before she set foot on the cement steps leading to the street, Kate turned around and stopped walking. Alex, wondering what had prompted her to stop walking, looked around to see if anything was amiss. He knew something was wrong, or Kate wouldn’t be looking like a pot about to boil over.
Kate enlightened him. “Listen here, Mr. English, I don’t like it when you do things for Ma without talking to me about them first.”
He goggled slightly. “I—I beg your pardon?” What in the name of mercy had he done this time to annoy the infuriating Kate Finney? Dash it, everything he did for Kate’s mother was . . . well . . . for Kate’s mother, dash it! “You had no right to call one of your friends about my mother! Pick on your own mother if you want to send doctors to somebody!”
“What? Miss Finney . . . For heaven’s sake, you’re making no sense!”
“Oh, yeah? Well, how’d you like it if some stranger waltzed into your life and took it over? You wouldn’t like it any better than I do!”
“Take over your life? Good Lord, woman, are you crazy?”
“No!” Kate turned precipitately and ran down the stairs.
Alex followed her, more slowly. “Miss Finney, come back here. We need to discuss this.” She was a madwoman. Alex was sure of it this time. He could account for her behavior in no other way.
“I don’t want to discuss anything with you! The time for discussion was before you sent a strange doctor to see Ma.”
This was idiotic. Alex sped up when she detoured around his coach. Obviously, the wench intended to walk home, whether the streets were safe for ladies after dark or not. It was as if she didn’t care to accept even a ride from him. And all because he’d had a specialist visit her mother. Lunacy. That was the only explanation.
His legs were considerably longer than Kate’s. She’d managed to skim around the horses, her little feet pumping like pistons, when he caught up with her. Since she didn’t appear inclined to wait for him, Alex reached out and took her arm. She tried to wrench herself away, but couldn’t break his hold.
“Wait a minute, Miss Finney. You can’t walk home in the dark.”
She swirled around so fast, Alex almost lost his grip on her arm. “I can, too, walk home in the dark, damn you! I’ve been doing it all my life! Let me go!”
This was really quite distressing. “Dash it, why are you in such a rage? I didn’t and don’t intend anything but kindness to you and your mother.”
Her whole body seemed to be trembling. Alex’s befuddlement grew. “Doggone it! Go find some other poor people to help, will you? Leave me and my family alone. We don’t need you!”
“Like fun you don’t.” Alex’s own temper was shredding fast. “Before you met me, your mother was languishing in the Charity Ward. I can’t understand why you’re being so irrational about accepting my help.”
“Oh! You . . . You . . . Damn you!” Kate wriggled and pulled, and still she couldn’t loosen Alex’s grip. He feared he was bruising her wrist, but he didn’t dare let her go for fear she’d dash out into the street and get run down by a newspaper wagon or a milk truck or something.
“Stop squirming, dash it.” He absolutely hated scenes. He’d never been a part of one until Kate Finney showed up in his life. But Kate seemed hell-bent on creating a spectacle of herself—and of him—every time they were in each other’s company. “Come here, to the coach. We can talk in there.”
“I don’t want to talk to you!”
If he weren’t so occupied, Alex might have rolled his eyes. “Nonsense. You just said we need to discuss things. Well, I’m not going to stand here while you discuss things at the top of your lungs. We’ll get into the coach, I have my man drive you to your lodging, and we can talk on the way.”
“No!”
Good God, people were beginning to notice them. Frustrated beyond anything and tired of being Kate’s target, Alex finally gave in to temptation, plucked her right up off the street, and carried her to his coach. He noticed Frank, the coachman, grinning, but decided to take him to task later. Kate was enough of a problem for any man to tackle at one time.
She fought like a fiend, but was so much smaller and lighter than he that Alex had no trouble getting her into the coach. Once inside, knowing she couldn’t get out except by the door she
came in, he let her go and blocked the door. With a furious bellow, Kate wrenched herself away from him and flung herself on the carriage seat. She glared at him savagely for approximately ten seconds, during which precious few moments Alex tried to catch his breath.
Feeling sour and not caring to disguise the fact, he snapped, “There. Are you sane again yet?”
“Damn you!”
Kate leapt up from the bench cushion like an enraged fury, stood stock-still for a heartbeat, her mouth gaping and her eyes wide, then crumpled to the floor at his feet.
“Good Gad.”
As he picked her up and laid her on the coach seat, Alex thought darkly that at least life around Kate Finney wasn’t dull.
Chapter Eight
Alex had learned Kate’s address from Hazel Finney. After he was pretty sure Kate was out cold—he didn’t suppose one could ever be completely certain about anything around Kate—he leaned out the window and told his driver where to go. Frank, who still sounded as if he were finding all this vastly funny, said smartly, “Yes, sir!” and drove off.
As far as Alex was concerned, nothing about this latest incident was at all funny. Irate and frustrated, he crossed his arms over his chest and frowned at Kate as the coach jolted along.
She was a pretty thing once one got past her prickles. He knew she had bright, bright blue eyes. He also knew she had a sense of humor, although she was so defensive about everything, sometimes the humor got buried under the strain of all the other things going on around her. That she had a capacity for great love and loyalty was a given. That she’d suffered greatly in her life was also a patent truth.
Evidently, she was the only girl in a family of boys. A violent, dipsomaniacal father, a sick mother, two brothers and Kate. Quite a family. From talking with Hazel Finney, Alex had learned that Kate had pretty much run things for most of her life. That was a load of responsibility for such a small thing. He couldn’t figure out why she was so dashed reluctant to allow anyone to help her.
She stirred, and he leaned over, ready to catch hold of her if she tried to bolt. He wouldn’t put it past her to leap out of a moving carriage if she was still mad at him. A small white hand lifted to her brow. Alex frowned at that hand and that brow. She ought to be wearing gloves. Ladies didn’t go out of doors without gloves. He wondered if she didn’t wear them because she was stubborn and difficult, or because she couldn’t afford them.
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