Bicycle Built for Two

by Duncan, Alice

  Her wrist was awfully tiny. He frowned at it, too, thinking it was smaller than it should be, although he didn’t have vast experience with ladies’ wrists. He wondered if she skipped meals. Probably. Young women always seemed to be obsessed about their weight. Kate Finney didn’t appear to have any extra fat on her at all.

  Visions of a couple of the young women he’d grown up with flitted through his mind’s eye. He hadn’t paid a whole lot of attention to them, since he hadn’t been in the market for a wife, but he didn’t recall them being all sharp edges and spikes, as Kate was. His own sister, Mary Jo, was nicely rounded—too nicely, he sometimes thought. All of the other females he knew were softer than Kate Finney, in speech, attitude, and shape.

  As long as Kate was immobile, Alex decided to examine her more closely. She always seemed to be in motion when they were together. She never allowed herself to relax in his company. Dash it, why weren’t her brothers more involved in their mother’s care? Mrs. Finney had given birth to all her children; surely, it shouldn’t be Kate alone who cared for her.

  He’d managed to work up quite a fit of pique against Kate’s brothers, when she stirred and moaned softly. Her eyelashes fluttered. Because he couldn’t seem to help himself, Alex reached for her hand and held it gently in his. “Are you all right, Miss Finney?”

  She moved, as if she were going to try to sit up. Alex tightened his hold on her hand. “Don’t shift around. You fainted, and you shouldn’t sit up too quickly, or your head will swim again.”

  “No.” She gave her head a weakish shake.

  “No, what?”

  “No, I don’t do things like that.”

  “Like what? Fainting? I can assure you that I didn’t knock you out, if that’s what you’re going to say next.” Dash it, she’d scarcely awakened, and he was already feeling oppressed and picked-on.

  She stopped struggling and again pressed a hand to her forehead. “I didn’t think that.” She shut her eyes.

  “Does your head ache?”

  “A little. I feel sort of lightheaded.”

  A suspicion that had occurred to him before occurred to him again. “When was the last time you ate anything, Miss Finney?”

  “Ate? When did I . . ? Heck, I don’t know.”

  “We had breakfast this morning. Did you eat again today?”

  “Oh. Yeah, I remember that. It was good.”

  “Answer my question, dash it, and stop equivocating.”

  “I’m not! I don’t even know what that word means.” She shut her eyes again. Before Alex could blow up, she muttered, “I don’t guess I ate again. I think I forgot.”

  Alex buried his face in the hand not holding Kate’s. “Good Gad, Miss Finney, you’re a true piece of work, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Kate said sullenly. “Stop holding my hand.”

  Alex obliged, although he didn’t want to. What was it about this infuriating girl that stirred all of his gentlemanly instincts, anyhow? She certainly didn’t appreciate them. She didn’t appreciate him. Be that as it may, he found himself again leaning out the coach window and directing a command to his driver. “Take us to my hotel, Frank.”

  “What?” Kate’s shock propelled her into a sitting position.

  As Alex had anticipated, her abrupt change of altitude made her head swim. She uttered a small cry, pressed her hand to her head, and leaned back against the cushion. “Nuts.” Her voice had sunk to a whisper.

  Irked—Alex knew exactly what she feared from him, and he resented it—he said, “Don’t fret, Miss Finney. I don’t plan to ravish you. The only place where it would be proper for us to eat together this late in the evening is the restaurant in my hotel, so that’s where I’m taking you.”

  “But . . .” She didn’t finish her sentence. Perhaps she’d begun to think sensibly, although Alex doubted it.

  “No buts. You need to be fed, and I’m going to feed you.”

  She turned away from him. Alex presumed from this that his expression was rather forbidding. He didn’t alter it. This was the first time Kate Finney had been too weak to fight him, and he aimed to cling to any advantages, however slight.

  “You don’t have to do that,” she murmured after a minute.

  “I don’t have to, but I’m doing it.” He leaned over, took her chin in his hand, and turned her face so that he could look her in the eyes. “Dash it, Miss Finney, are you trying to kill yourself? What do you suppose will happen to your family if you don’t take care of yourself?”

  “That’s what Madame said.”

  “As well she might. And what did you answer her?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Well, it’s about time you thought about it, young woman. Your mother needs you.”

  “She doesn’t. She’s got you now.”

  “For God’s . . . I don’t understand you, Miss Kate Finney. If you think for one minute that I would be a satisfactory substitute for you in the eyes of your mother, you’re even more daft than I took you for. And, before you ask, I already thought you were about the craziest specimen I’ve ever come across.”

  She frowned at him. “Nuts.”

  “It’s not nuts. It’s the truth. You’re absolutely infuriating. One minute you’re telling me you don’t need any help, the next minute I find your mother languishing in the Charity Ward of Saint Mildred’s, the next minute I meet your brother, who’s trying to invest what little money he has to help your family, and the next minute, you’re fainting at my feet for lack of food. Now you tell me. Is that crazy or not?”

  “Not,” she muttered, but she didn’t sound as if she meant it.

  Alex let go of her chin. She didn’t look well to him. His health, always robust, had accustomed him to thinking little about health in general. His life, unlike Kate’s, however, wasn’t fraught with challenges other than those he encountered in his farming business. His challenges were plentiful, but not especially dire.

  Kate’s entire life looked dire from where he sat. Kate Finney shook up his notions about life in general, as a matter of fact. Her existence in his world had rocked his serenity and buffeted his complacency. Dash it, she was worse than a thorn in his side. She was more like a broken leg. Or a violent toothache.

  But he was getting away from the present problem. “That’s not the point. The point is that your mother needs you more than she needs me or anyone else in the world. It has become painfully obvious to me that you’re about the only person in your family with a brain and a modicum of common sense, although—”

  “I am not!”

  Alex squinted at her. She looked as if his words had stung. Curious. “You’re the one who bears all the responsibilities,” he pointed out.

  She sucked in a breath. He expected her to use it to revile him. Therefore, when she spoke after hesitating for a few seconds, her words surprised him.

  “That’s not fair to Walter and Bill, Mr. English. They aren’t very good with sick people, but they both help a lot with food and rent and stuff. And they keep a watch out for our father, too. That’s the most important thing anybody can do at the moment.”

  “Is it? Do they?” Alex was glad to hear it, although he opted not to withdraw his condemnation of her brothers until he learned more about them. So far, the only thing he’d noticed that either brother had done for Kate was make a few investments.

  “Yes, they do. Darn it, they’ve supported the family for years. We all have.” She glanced away from him. “You know good and well that our father’s no good. It isn’t fair, but it’s the truth, and my brothers and I know it. We all pitch in, and we have done forever.”

  The more Alex heard about Kate’s father, the more he disliked the man. “Isn’t there something the law can do about your father, Miss Finney?” He didn’t soften his voice, sensing that Kate would get mad if he indicated by so much as a hint that he felt sorry for her.

  She heaved a huge sigh. “Naw. They don’t care. They might care if Ma was rich, but e
ven then they probably wouldn’t. They don’t like to interfere in domestic situations.”

  “Domestic situations?” Alex could barely wrench his teeth apart far enough to poke the two words out of his mouth.

  “Yeah. That’s what Sergeant Maguire calls it. It’s a domestic situation, according to him. The home is sacred, according to the Chicago Police Department. Never mind that a father is a drunkard who regularly beats up his wife and kids. They don’t interfere because the home is not the province of the police department, or they say.”

  “That’s absurd.”

  “Tell it to the police.”

  Alex didn’t inform Kate, but he intended to exactly that. Dash it, the home might be sacred, but as far as he was concerned Mr. Finney had violated his right to sanctuary. The man was a brute and probably should have been drowned at birth, as people did with unwanted kittens. Too late for such a merciful solution now.

  “But see here, couldn’t your mother get away? Don’t you have relations that might have taken you in?”

  Her eyes opened wide in mock incredulity. “A sick woman and three kids? I don’t know if all of your relations are as rich as you are, Mr. English, but mine don’t have room or food enough to accommodate four more people. Not to mention the fact that my father would probably come over roaring drunk every night until they threw us out of the house in order to get some peace.”

  “I see.” Alex sat gazing at Kate and brooding over life’s injustices. If one only looked at it, life was merely life. It had no meaning, really. It was neither good nor bad. It simply was. Life was what one was given to work with for a number of years, and then it was over. It didn’t seem complicated on the surface. It was when people started doing evil things with the lives they were given that everything got confused.

  “Stop staring at me.”

  Kate’s voice, coming to him, surly, out of the dark, made Alex realize he’d been watching her as he brooded. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to stare.”

  She patted at her hair. Her hat had tilted considerably during the past half-hour or so, either during her struggle, her faint, Alex’s carrying her, or as she lay on the bench. She pushed at it and fumbled with the brim. “Darn it.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Can’t find my hat pins.”

  “Sit still. Perhaps I can help.” He moved to the opposite bench and sat beside Kate, who stiffened. Irked, he snapped, “I’m not going to do anything but try to find your dashed hat pins, Miss Finney. What do you take me for, anyhow?” Ah, there was one of the little devils. It was hanging, caught in a lock of Kate’s pretty hair. He worked it out, trying not to pull. “Here’s a pin. How many more are there?”

  “There’s only one more.”

  “Hmmm. I don’t see— Ah, yes! There it is. Here. Hold still for a minute.” This one was still stuck in the hat, but it wasn’t doing much good since that part of the hat dangled from the ribbon tied under her chin. Alex got the pin loose. “Here. I guess that’s it.”

  She took the pin, and he moved to the opposite bench. She looked ill at ease, and he wondered what her problem was now.

  “I’m sorry. Thank you.”

  The two statements, uttered in a muted voice and with humility behind them, hit Alex hard. He leaned over slightly and stared hard at Kate. Her head was bowed, and her hat sat in her lap. Her hands, one of them holding two hat pins, were still and rested on the hat’s brim. She didn’t glance up at him.

  “There’s no need to apologize,” he said, surprising himself. “And you’re welcome.”

  Her head bobbed once. Alex decided the bob had been intended as a nod. She still didn’t lift her head or look at him. Nor did she rearrange her hat. Or her hair. It looked as if it were tumbling from its pins. She really did have lovely hair, thick and shiny. It was a lovely reddish-brown, and Alex would have liked to see it unbound, in the sunshine.

  He wondered what the sanitary conditions were at Kate’s place of residence. He’d bet she didn’t have indoor plumbing or running water. He’d never had to live like that himself, and the thought of Kate doing so bothered him.

  Her shoulders twitched once. Alex leaned forward slightly. “Miss Finney?”

  She shook her head but didn’t speak. Good Gad, she wasn’t going to faint again, was she? “Are you feeling ill?”

  Again, her head shook once.

  It wasn’t until he heard a muffled sob that Alex realized she was crying. Kate Finney! Crying! He could scarcely credit it. Reaching for her arm, he said urgently, “Miss Finney! Please, Miss Finney, don’t do that!” He hated it when women cried at him. And Kate Finney, of all people. Crying.

  He couldn’t’ stand it. With a lunge, Alex moved to Kate’s side of the carriage. With another lunge, he threw his arms around her. “Please, Kate, don’t cry. Everything will be all right. Truly, it will. I’ll see to it.”

  For only a moment, she tried to pull away from him, but he was too strong for her. At last she collapsed in his arms, sobbing as if her heart would break. Alex felt absolutely awful. He did, however, realize somewhat to his shock, that he’d meant exactly what he’d said to her. He was going to make everything all right for her or die trying.

  Dramatic, he told himself. Entirely too dramatic. The problem was, he decided a second later, that, dramatic or not, he couldn’t make himself not mean it.

  # # #

  Kate had never broken down in front of a stranger before. Heck, she’d never broken down in front of anybody before, if it came to that. Kate wasn’t the breaking-down type. The fact that Alex’s arms had felt so good wrapped around her, and that she’d wanted to stay there for the rest of her life, she knew was a bad sign.

  “Are you ready now?”

  And he was being so nice about it, too. That made it worse. “Almost.” Her throat was scratchy from tears, and her hands shook. Alex said it was from lack of food. Kate feared he was right, too. Darn it. She hated it when people were right about something she’d done wrong.

  “There’s no rush.”

  “Stop being so nice to me, will you? I’m not used to it.” She stabbed a pin in her hat and grazed her scalp. “Ow.”

  “I will not stop being nice to you, so you’d better get used to it.”

  “Huh.” Shoot, that had hurt. She hoped to goodness the scratch wouldn’t bleed and get her hat dirty. She imagined she looked like the wrath of God, even without a dirty hat. After she’d arranged her hair and her hat, she forced herself to face Alex.

  He smiled at her. “Ready?”

  “Listen, Mr. English—”

  “Please call me Alex.”

  Huh? After one quick spurt of trepidation, Kate realized she didn’t have the strength to work up a good froth of suspicion. Rather, she sighed—she’d been sighing a lot this evening—and said, “Okay. Call me Kate.”

  He nodded, still smiling.

  “Okay. Alex. Listen, you really don’t need to do this. I’ve got some bread and cheese at home I can eat.”

  “You’re not eating a supper of bread and cheese, Kate. Stop fighting me, and come along if you’re ready.”

  She mumbled, “I’ll never be ready for this.”

  “Why not?”

  She flung out her arms. “Because I look like hell! That’s why.”

  He squinted at her critically. “No, you don’t. You look fine.”

  “I’ll just bet.”

  She couldn’t see very well in the dark carriage, but she imagined he was rolling his eyes. “Listen, Kate, if it will make you feel better, you can stop off in the ladies’ room before we dine. You can wash your face or do whatever you think needs doing.”

  Ladies’ room? Dine? Lordy, she really, really wasn’t ready for this. Feeling small, insignificant, and overwhelmed, she said, “Very well.” It obviously wouldn’t do her any good to balk. She’d already tried that. Nothing seemed to alter Alex English’s course once he got his mind made up. Pigheaded son of a gun.

  She didn’t really mean that. To prov
e it, she said, “Thanks.”

  “Stop thanking me.”

  He held out an arm, she took it, he helped her down the carriage steps, and kept her arm in his as they walked toward the Congress Hotel. Kate stared at the elegant facade of the brand-spanking new building and decided she wasn’t surprised to discover Alex was staying in it. She’d seen this hotel from a distance. In passing, as it were. She’d never been inside. People like her didn’t go into hotels like this, unless they were maids hired to clean up after the rich people who stayed here. She’d worked as a hotel maid before, but dancing and telling fortunes paid better. She guessed she was still in a debilitated state when her heart started pounding in trepidation.

  Telling herself that she was as good as anyone even if she was poor, that she was in the company of Alex English, who was possibly the most respectable human being on the face of the earth, and that nobody, not even the snobbiest and most highhanded Maitre d’hotel would kick her out as undesirable, she braced herself for an unpleasant experience. However unpleasant it was certain to be, it would also contain food. Obviously, Kate needed food, or she’d never have fainted—and how humiliating that had been—so she would endure.

  “The restaurant in the hotel is quite fine,” he told her, as if that would be of interest to her.

  It was, actually, but not in the way he meant, Kate was sure. She didn’t want to dine in a fine hotel restaurant. She wasn’t made for that sort of thing. “Good.”

  He leaned over slightly and whispered, “Please don’t be ill at ease, Kate. This is just a place to get food for people who aren’t in a position to cook their own. Trust me, eating dinner here is not anything to be uneasy about.”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  For some reason, when Alex chuckled, she not only didn’t take umbrage, she actually even smiled a little. Maybe Alex was right. Maybe she really did have a chip on her shoulder. A tiny one. Virtually invisible.