Bicycle Built for Two

by Duncan, Alice

  “That’s not fair.”

  With a grin, Kate said, “Your brother would say you sound just like me.”

  Alex held his arms up, as if he were surrendering to superior forces. “Not I,” said he. “Never.”

  Kate gave him a sharp frown, and he said sheepishly, “Well, hardly ever.”

  “Huh.” Turning back to Mary Jo, Kate said, “You ought to consider yourself lucky that you have a good family, Mary Jo. Having to fend for yourself can be a mighty tricky business.”

  “I guess so.”

  For approximately ten seconds, Alex’s sister seemed subdued. Such was her delight at finally being brought to the World’s Columbian Exposition, however, that her reserved demeanor didn’t last long. By the time they’d left the Whsatever building and were aiming at the Esgyptian Pavilion—Mary Jo had bullied Kate and Alex into allowing her to see Little Egypt dance—her mood was bright again.

  “I can’t wait to see Little Egypt,” she babbled. “It must be so exciting to dance like she does.”

  Eyeing Mary Jo skeptically, Kate muttered, “Uh-huh. Wait’ll you hear what these guys call music.”

  She congratulated herself for having warned her audience. As soon as the Egyptian bagpipes began squealing, Mary Jo would have clapped her hands over her ears, except that her brother, anticipating her, grabbed her hands and stopped her. Kate heard him whisper harshly, “Stop that this instant, Mary Jo. It’s rude and impolite.” With a smirk, he added, “Besides, you’re the one who wanted to see this.”

  Kate heard Mary Jo whisper back, “I didn’t know it would sound like this.”

  “I warned you,” Kate reminded her.

  Outnumbered and unappreciated, Mary Jo sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. Her posture remained defiant until Little Egypt danced out on stage. Then she forgot her dudgeon in favor of watching, fascinated, as Fahreda Mahzar, known to the fascinated public as Little Egypt, did her famous “Egyptian Muscle Dance.” When the number was almost over, Mary Jo leaned over to Kate and said in her ear, “Do you really know how to do that, Kate?”

  “Sure do.”

  “My goodness. Will you teach me?”

  Kate was so startled, she turned to Alex, expecting to find him about to explode. She couldn’t imagine the prim-and-proper Alex English allowing his sister to dance like that. She was surprised when he only winked at her. Supposing correctly that his wink settled the question of propriety, she turned back to Mary Jo. “Er, sure. I guess so.”

  But Mary Jo, hands clasped and held under her chin in an attitude of rapture, was watching Little Egypt again. Kate did likewise. It really was kind of a spectacular dance, if she looked at it objectively. It certainly didn’t look like anything a body could see at a regular dance hall. Kate didn’t suppose even rustic folks living on those big ranches out west danced like this. She wondered if the so-called hootchy-kootchy dance would be all the rage soon. Probably. People loved new stuff. Especially people like Mary Jo, who had lots of money and nothing in particular to do with it or themselves.

  She told herself to stop being snide. As soon as Little Egypt writhed her way offstage and the music shrieked to a stop, she said, “Would you like to meet Miss Mahzar?”

  Mary Jo blinked. “Miss Who?”

  “Miss Mahzar. She’s the dancer you just saw.”

  “I thought her name was . . . Oh. I see. People just call her Little Egypt. Is that right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Let’s hurry it up, if you’re going to meet her,” Alex said, hauling out his beautiful gold pocket watch. “We still have a lot of things to see and do. I want to take you on the Ferris wheel tonight. It’s great to see all the lights at night from way up there.”

  “I want to see Kate’s fortune-telling booth, too.” Mary Jo’s round eyes were glittering with delight as Kate shoved her way backstage.

  “Good Gad,” her brother growled under his breath.

  Kate gave him a speaking look. “Of course. Madame Esmeralda will be delighted to meet you, Mary Jo.”

  “Can she tell my fortune?”

  “Don’t know why not.”

  Alex opened his mouth, Kate was sure to protest, and she smacked him sharply on the arm. He jerked and glowered down at her, then gave up. “Oh, very well. Madame asked me to bring you, anyhow. I guess I’m surrounded by willful females tonight and might as well not fight it.”

  “Exactly,” said Kate.

  Mary Jo only laughed. Kate got the feeling she wasn’t used to getting the better of her brother and didn’t want to press her luck.

  When Kate introduced the brother and sister to the Egyptian musicians, Mary Jo seemed to shrink. Alex was gracious and polite. When she introduced them to Fahreda Mahzar, Mary Jo was tongue-tied. Alex, as ever, was gracious and polite. Kate marveled at his ability to meet people from all walks of life and treat them all alike. When she’d first met him, she’d believed him to be stuffy. Now she understood that Alex operated by some sort of gentleman’s code, and that it fit any occasion.

  In other words, he had manners. It had never occurred to her how pleasant the world might be if everyone only just had good manners.

  If—and it was a big if, given the state of her mind and heart—she ever had children, Kate was going to be darned sure she taught them good manners. Good manners could see you through pretty nearly anything. And if, as was almost inevitable in life, you ran into a brutal beast like her father, you could put the manners up, haul out your gun, and simply shoot him.

  Her thoughts were so out of the ordinary that Kate burst into laughter. Amused by her spontaneous outburst, Alex said, “What’s so funny?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing. I was just thinking about my father.”

  “Is he funny?” Mary Jo asked naively.”

  Kate shook her head. “Not very.”

  Alex watched her keenly. “I’ve never seen you laugh about him before, Kate.”

  “I guess not.” Which made her thoughts veer onto an entirely different path. How wonderful it would be, thought she, to have a dependable and lovable man in one’s life. Someone like Alex, who could act as a buffer between one and the world. Until she met Alex, Kate wouldn’t have dreamed anything even remotely concerning her father would make her laugh.

  But his presence in her life gave her some relief from the hardness of the world. Just knowing he was there, and that she wasn’t entirely alone any longer, gave her a little space in which to think absurd thoughts. And laugh.

  Was she losing her edge? With a sigh, Kate decided it didn’t matter. As soon as Alex left her life, she’d get it back again. It was get the edge back or die, and she’d be damned before she’d allow life to get the better of her.

  It sure would be nice to have someone in it with her, though. Too bad it couldn’t be Alex.

  Kate’s brothers found Alex, Mary Jo, and Kate as they left the Ferris wheel area, all three laughing and exhilarated from their ride. “It was such fun!” Mary Jo cried happily.

  Alex said, “Glad you liked it,” in a satisfied sort of voice.

  Kate was about to agree with her two companions when she spotted Walter and Bill. She stopped in her tracks and felt as if her insides had been hit by a blast of arctic air.

  Mary Jo had no inkling a problem lurked until Alex stopped walking, too, and by doing so jerked her backward against his side. “What?” she demanded, plainly annoyed.

  Alex said nothing, although he nodded at Billy, who nodded back and said, “Good evening, Mr. English.”

  Kate rushed to her brothers. “What’s the matter? Is it Ma?” She knew it was her mother. What else could it be?

  But Walter shook his head. “It’s Pa. They let him out, and Bill and I don’t want you to go home.”

  “He’s out of jail?” Kate’s heart took a nose-dive that left her feeling sick.

  “Yes. The damned—er—blasted police wouldn’t keep him.”

  “Damn,” said Alex. He didn’t bother to correct him
self or apologize.

  Mary Jo’s eyes grew huge. “Your father? But, what . . .?”

  Since everyone was ignoring her, she stopped speaking. Kate was grateful, not having anticipated cooperation from Mary Jo in the keeping-quiet department. “Darn it, where can I go? Either of you have room?”

  “You can’t stay with us, because we live at that boarding house on Fifty-First Street, and it’s only for men,” Walter said. “But Bill and I have money for a hotel room for you, and we’re both taking off work tomorrow. We’ll find you another place and move you in.”

  “You can’t do that,” Kate said, touched by her brothers’ concern and loyalty. “I’ll bet I can stay in Madame’s booth for a couple of days until I can find a place.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” Alex said, breaking into the conversation and stopping it dead.

  Walter, who hadn’t even looked at Kate’s companions until now, wheeled toward Alex now, frowning. “Who are you?” His voice held an edge of challenge.

  “Calm down, Walter,” Bill advised. “This is Mr. English. He’s the one who gave me that advice on the Exposition stocks. Be nice to him.” He grinned his impish grin, and Kate decided it was past time for her brain to get busy and start working.

  With that in mind, and remembering how handy manners could be when properly used, she hastened to say, “I’m sorry, Alex and Mary Jo. These are my brothers. Mary Jo English and Alex English, please allow me to introduce you to my brothers. This is Walter Finney, and—well, you already know Billy, Alex. Mary Jo, this is Billy.”

  Mary Jo executed a pretty little curtsy, even though she was obviously confused. Manners again. What a blessing they were, to be sure.

  Walter and Alex shook hands, and everyone mumbled appropriate greetings. When that was done, Walter turned back to the matter at hand. “I don’t want you paying for my sister, Mr. English, if you’ll pardon my saying so. It’s not your affair.”

  An awkward pause followed Walter’s unfortunate choice of nouns. Alex stepped into it. “Of course, not. I do, however, feel a touch of obligation. After all, your sister and I are—”

  Fearing he was going to announce their impending—and fictitious—nuptials, Kate said, “We’ve become very good friends, and Ma is staying at his farm. I’m sure Alex will have a good suggestion.”

  Alex looked at her oddly, but said, “The best. I think Kate and Mary Jo can stay in the Congress together. They can share Mary Jo’s room. It’s big enough for an army, and Kate doesn’t take up much room.” He winked at Kate.

  He was awfully darned full of winks this evening, Kate thought, wishing she’d been allowed to be happy for an entire evening, but knowing she was being ungrateful.

  “Oh, yes!” cried Mary Jo, obviously delighted by the prospect of sharing her room with Kate.

  “But . . .” Kate glanced from Mary Jo to Alex, and then to her brothers. Truth to tell, she couldn’t think of too many reasons not to accept the kind offer.

  “Please,” begged Mary Jo. “I’ve never been alone before, and even though I know it’s a new hotel and Alex is there, too, it would be such fun to have you stay with me.”

  Billy grinned. “Sounds good to me.”

  Walter wasn’t so instantly won. “Well . . .”

  “I promise you, I won’t allow any harm to befall your sister, Mr. Finney.”

  It seemed strange to Kate that Walter should be addressed as Mr. Finney. The only person she’d ever heard addressed thus was her father, and he didn’t deserve the Mister part. Manners. They were priceless.

  Thus it transpired that Kate Finney spent the night in the absolute pinnacle of elegance for the first time in her life.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Alex liked Walter Finney almost as much as he liked Bill, although Walter was stuffier than his brother. He considered this circumstance—the liking, not the stuffiness—extremely encouraging. There had lurked in the back of his mind a niggling doubt about Kate’s siblings. After all, they were the products of a vicious drunkard. It was interesting to Alex that the influence of a good woman like Hazel Finney could be more powerful on the characters of two growing boys than the influence of a bad father.

  Or maybe it wasn’t. If he followed the thought to its natural conclusion, Alex might have to admit that women were as powerful as men, and he didn’t believe it. Or maybe he did. Nuts, he said to himself as they reached the door to Mary Jo’s room.

  “I really wish we could have stopped to get some of my things,” Kate muttered when Alex turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open.

  “I’ll go to your place and pick up some things for you, Kate. I don’t want you anywhere near that place until I know what’s going on with your father.”

  She heaved a huge sigh of what Alex pegged as exasperation and annoyance. He braced himself for a verbal lashing in reaction to his usurpation of her flat and the things therein. He wasn’t about to back down, though. It had taken him dashed near thirty years to find her, and he wasn’t about to allow her snake-mean drunk of a father to kill her before he married her.

  “Let me at least go with you.”

  “Not on a bet. I don’t want you anywhere near your place.”

  “Darn it, Alex, I don’t want you pawing through my things!”

  Mary Jo gasped. Alex presumed she’d never heard anyone speak to her big brother like that. Little did she know. Once she got better acquainted with Kate and realized how vulnerable to insult he was, Alex feared for his position of command over his little sister.

  “Too bad. I’m not letting you go to your flat.” He spoke with authority, and hoped like mad Kate wouldn’t argue with him for the rest of the night.

  What she did was turn to Mary Jo and say politely, “Will you please excuse us for a moment, Mary Jo? I need to talk to your brother.”

  “But . . . You can talk in front of me. I don’t mind.” Mary Jo smiled sweetly, hoping, Alex knew, to be privy to the argument.

  “Um . . .” Kate was flustered, apparently unaccustomed to putting off vexing younger siblings with finesse.

  Alex, who knew Mary Jo didn’t deserve finesse—after all, she was his little sister—said, “No. We’ll speak in my room.” And with that, he shut the door in Mary Jo’s face. He laughed at her expression, which was one of indignation.

  “We don’t need to go to your room,” Kate said, resisting as he tugged on her arm.

  “I’m not about to wage a fight about this in the middle of the Congress hallway. My room’s just next door.” Because he didn’t want her escaping, he kept hold of her arm as he fished for the key in his pocket.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Kate grumbled.

  Alex still didn’t trust her not to bolt. As soon as he’d opened the door, he yanked her inside, kicked the door shut with his heel, and grabbed her into his arms. “Dash it, Kate, I’m not going to expose you to danger.” Then he kissed her, as he’d been longing to do all day.

  # # #

  The real reason Kate hadn’t wanted to go to Alex’s room was her fear of this very thing. She wasn’t sure she could control her unwieldy emotions, not to mention her body’s cravings, if he kissed her this way in a private room. Darn it all, she knew she couldn’t.

  Kissing him back with all the love in her heart, Kate gave up resistance. She’d probably never get another chance to do this. She knew the dangers; none knew them better than she. If a baby resulted from this idiocy, so be it. Kate had supported her mother and herself for darned near five years; surely she could support a baby and herself.

  “Dash it, Kate, I want to protect you.” Alex was panting when he stopped kissing her.

  Fortunately for Kate, he didn’t release her from his embrace or she’d have fallen on the floor, having lost control of her leg muscles. Not to mention her brain muscle. She told herself that sarcasm wasn’t appropriate at the moment. She couldn’t catch her breath, so she didn’t say anything.

  Alex went on. “We’ll be married soon, and then I’
ll have the right to do so. I’m claiming the right now, as your affianced husband. I’m telling you that you can’t return to your flat again.”

  Dear God. She couldn’t allow him to continue in this vein, or she’d be lost. It would be criminal of her to marry him. Kate couldn’t bear the notion of ruining the life of the only man she’d ever loved. Taking her courage and all her strength in her own two hands, she stepped away from him, using a good deal of force to break his hold. She felt cold when his arms fell away. She scooted across the floor and behind a chair as if all the devils in hell were pursuing her.

  He looked at her in confusion. “What is it, Kate? I won’t dishonor you again. I’m gentleman enough to control myself.”

  Oh, Lord, he sounded snippy. Kate realized she was trembling and wrapped her arms over her chest, trying to hug the shakes away. Didn’t work. Because she didn’t want to get distracted from her purpose, she blurted out, “I can’t marry you, Alex.”

  He gaped at her, as if he couldn’t credit his ears to have heard her correctly. His eyebrows soared nearly into his hairline, his head jutted forward, and his mouth fell open.

  Seizing the moment of silence engendered by his astonishment, Kate rushed on, still hugging herself, trying with all her might to hold herself together. Her voice shook, but she couldn’t help that. “I can’t marry you. If I married you, I’d be an evil person, and I’m not, darn it, whatever you think!”

  He snapped to attention. Now he looked outraged. “I don’t—”

  But Kate cut him off. “No. Let me speak. Darn it, I’m a girl from the slums, Alex! You can’t marry a girl from the slums! What would your friends think? What would your mother think? I’m so far below you in the scheme of things, it’s not even funny. I wouldn’t have a clue how to act around your fancy friends.”

  “Kate . . .”

  “No!” She wished she could hold her hands out, as she’d seen policemen do when controlling traffic on Chicago’s busy streets, but her hands were currently occupied in holding herself together. “Darn it, will you think for a minute? If you married me, you’d end up hating me, and I—” Her voice broke on a sob. She forced herself to finish the sentence. “I couldn’t stand that.”