The Scholar

by Tess Thompson

  Theo turned to look at me. The rabid, wild look in his eyes scared me. However, he did as I asked and shoved the man away. “Get. Before the sheriff arrives,” Theo shouted at him.

  We all knew full well that the sheriff wasn’t coming. Even if he did, the welfare of a young woman who’d put herself in harm’s way wouldn’t be his top priority. He’d see it as Cymbeline’s fault. I couldn’t help but wonder what she’d been doing in the parking lot by herself.

  Regardless of our lack of law enforcement, both men ran around parked cars and headed toward the woods. Viktor, obviously still enraged, ran after them. He chased them out of the parking area and followed up by hurling several stones at the backs of their heads as they disappeared into the dark. When Viktor returned, his eyes glittered in the dim light from the bulb over the door. He knelt on the ground next to us. “Are you hurt?” he asked Cymbeline.

  She buried her face in my shoulder and didn’t answer. She was ashamed. I knew how that felt. “She’s fine,” I said, answering for her. “Shaken up. But she’s tough, right, Cym?”

  Cymbeline clung to me as she lifted her face to look at her brother and Viktor. “I’m sorry. I came out for air.” She shuddered as she drew in a deep breath. “They trapped me.”

  “It’s not your fault.” Viktor’s expression remained dark and dangerous. “I should’ve killed them both.”

  “What were you thinking?” Theo asked as he paced back and forth in front of us. “What were you doing out here? For God’s sake, Cymbeline, do you know what they would have done to you if we hadn’t found you when we did?”

  Cymbeline started to cry all over again. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “It was very, very foolish,” Theo said. “It’s time to grow up and stop acting like a foolish child.”

  “Theo,” I said quietly as Cymbeline returned her face to my shoulder. “Please.”

  “I apologize, Louisa, that you have to see me like this,” Theo said. “But you don’t know Cymbeline like I do. No one’s ever called her on her misbehavior. You’re a young lady, Cym. A Barnes. Running around here like a hooligan—like someone cheap…” He threw up his hands. “I don’t know what to do with you.”

  Cymbeline lifted her head and glared at him. “I’m not your child. You don’t get to tell me what to do. Papa knows I’m here. He doesn’t treat me like a ridiculous child.”

  “If you want to be treated like an adult, you should act like one,” Theo said.

  “I grew up when you were gone. You got to leave, Theo. You get to be someone. I’m trapped with no options. How can you blame me for a little fun? What else do I have?”

  “That’s no excuse. None at all. No excuse to act like a spoiled brat.” Theo stopped pacing and turned his back on us.

  Viktor’s rage seemed to have been snuffed out by Theo’s tirade. His rugged features had rearranged back to normal. He clapped Theo on the back. “It’s all right now. All’s well that ends well.”

  Theo, however, was not to be deterred from his lecture. He whipped back around to face his sister. “I don’t know what you or Fiona think you’re doing, but this is no place for young ladies. If it were up to me, you’d both be restricted from leaving the house until you’re married and I know you’re safe from harm.”

  “I think we should go home.” My chest had tightened to the point where I felt as if I couldn’t breathe. “Please, Theo. You’re scaring me.”

  For whatever reason, that seemed to snap Theo out of his anger. He let out a long breath and ran his hand over his chin. “Yes, you’re right. Let’s get you both home.”

  Viktor held out his hand to help us up. First me and then Cymbeline.

  “Thank you, Viktor,” Cymbeline said in a cowed tone. “It seems like your fate to come to the rescue of the Barnes sisters.”

  I hated seeing Cymbeline this way. Even if her decisions were sometimes reckless, her spirit and strength inspired me. I hoped this hadn’t ruined her forever.

  “I’d rather not have to save you, but I’m glad I was here.” Viktor brushed back the hair that had stuck to Cymbeline’s damp cheeks. “Go home and get some rest. You’ll be fine in the morning.”

  Cymbeline looked up at the oversize man. “Am I spoilt to you now?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Viktor’s tone had turned gruff. “You did nothing wrong. I’d do anything to keep you from harm. If anything, you should know that by now.”

  “I guess I do,” Cymbeline said. “What about Emma?”

  “Do you really want to know the answer to that question?” Viktor asked.

  Cymbeline stared at him for a moment. “I guess I don’t.” She turned to me. “I’m ready now.”

  I took her hand and led her over to Theo’s car. As I helped her into the back seat, I saw Theo offer Viktor his hand.

  “I owe you for another one,” Theo said. “You’re like the guardian angel of my sisters.”

  “Nah. I’m just big and dumb and at the right place at the right time.”

  ***

  No one spoke on the drive home. Theo gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles as we headed down the dirt road to the Barneses’ property. The millions of stars overhead shone brightly from a dark sky. I stared up at them, wishing to get lost in them and erase the ugliness of the night. In the back, Cymbeline was curled in one corner.

  I’d not really had time to come to my senses after all that had happened. Now that we were safe, I started shaking. The possibilities of all that could have happened hit me. Thank you, God, for alerting us in time, I prayed silently. And thank you for Viktor Olofsson.

  “I’m sorry, Theo,” Cymbeline said from the back.

  “I know,” Theo mumbled. “It’s all right. As Viktor says, everything turned out all right in the end.”

  “Will you tell Papa?” Cymbeline asked.

  “I haven’t decided.”

  I was bothered by this. What was it exactly that troubled me? Yes, Cymbeline hadn’t been wise to go outside without a male escort. As a woman, whether we liked it or not, we had to always think ahead to keep ourselves out of danger. Why should it be that way? As well, what right did Theo have to decide whether their father knew what had happened? For so long, I’d been under the thumb of my first father and then my second. All women were at the mercy of their fathers and husbands. What about what a woman wanted? Did we ever get a say in our own lives? Even now that we had the vote, how much had changed? I still had to marry or face a bleak existence. “It seems to me that it should be Cymbeline’s decision,” I said out loud. I inwardly cringed, waiting for Theo’s response.

  His answer wasn’t what I’d expected.

  “You’re right.” Theo breathed in, then out, seeming to pull himself together. “Cymbeline, when I’m frightened, which I was tonight, I get angry. I’m sorry if I was too hard on you. As far as whether you tell Papa is up to you. As Louisa says, you’re an adult.”

  I looked over at the profile of Theo Barnes. How tricky it must be to be a husband, brother, or father. He’d reacted out of love and fear for his sister. They were burdened with looking after the women they loved. Sometimes that was impossible. There were bad people, natural disasters, accidents. All out of a man’s control. The pressure on men to provide and protect was as intense as our helplessness was to us. As far as my fathers, one was a monster and the other close to saintly. Yet they’d both held me back from the education I’d wanted.

  Neither gender had it easy. We all did the best we could with what we had. None of us were faultless or without sins. Jesus loved us anyway. Just as we should love one another.

  “But what I don’t understand,” Theo said, “is why you aren’t in love with Viktor. That, little sister, makes no sense whatsoever.”

  Cymbeline answered with a sniff.

  “Isn’t that why you needed air?” Theo asked. “Because he brought Emma out?”

  “Maybe,” Cymbeline answered from the back.

  I thought I knew what held Cymbeline back from the
idea of a relationship with Viktor or any man. She was afraid to give up her freedom. Would Viktor allow her to continue to look after her little sister at the dance hall, for example? Or would she have a baby right away and be contained to the house as all our married friends were? Had any of them experienced the kind of joyful evening we’d just had? Joyful, that is, before Cymbeline’s dangerous encounter.

  I remembered a bird who had rammed into the windows at the church and died from the impact. She’d been sailing toward her own reflection, thinking it a friend, but it turned out instead to be her impending death. Were women that way? Soaring the skies, thinking we were free, until tricked into a glass window? Was marriage our glass window? Did we have any choice?

  I, for one, did not. Cymbeline, though? She might be able to remain single, taken care of by her father and brothers, and have some semblance of freedom over her own life.

  I stole another glance at Theo’s profile. His expression was still one of gloom. As awful as the men had been who accosted Cymbeline, Theo was as good. Would we be able to have a marriage where I could still spread my wings and fly if I wanted to? Or would we be like most?

  I closed my eyes, suddenly tired. I had no idea what the future would bring, only that I must make the only choice available to me. I filled with gratitude that it was Theo who had come to me.

  17

  Theo

  * * *

  The next morning, I found Papa in his study reading the newspaper. Recently, Emerson Pass had gotten its own paper. Not that there was much news in town. The articles were mostly written by the owner, a young man around my age who had come from journalism in one of the cities in the east. He’d come west looking for adventure. If his aim had been fascinating journalistic opportunities, I had a feeling he was disappointed.

  “Theo, you’re up early. Isn’t it your day off?” Papa asked as he set aside his paper.

  “I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Something troubling you?”

  “Yes, in fact, it is.”

  “Why do I have the feeling I’m in trouble?” Papa asked, chuckling.

  Was I that transparent? I sat down in the other leather chair. “I’d like to know why you’re allowing Fiona to play in town at a place illegally serving drinks where grown men frequent? Not to mention Cymbeline, who we both know doesn’t always have the best judgment.”

  Papa tented his fingers under his chin. “Let me tell you what I know about women.”

  I waited, wondering where he was going with this.

  “Unlike horses, who can be tamed, the more you try to rein women in, the more they want to run or rebel. Your sisters have their own minds and aren’t afraid to let anyone know. They’re especially that way.”

  “But Papa, they’re so young. And pretty. The men in this town are not all like you. There are roughnecks out there.”

  “Li is with Fiona at all times. Cymbeline can take care of herself. Plus, she has Poppy looking out for her.”

  “I respectfully disagree,” I said.

  “That’s your right.”

  I struggled mightily just then, wishing I could tell him what had happened. How wrong he was about Cymbeline being able to take care of herself. As Louisa had pointed out, it was not my place. “Regardless, you’re their father. What does Mama say about all this?”

  “She figures she came across the country alone when she wasn’t much older than Cymbeline. Surely a trip to the dance hall our son owns isn’t as dangerous as all that?”

  “I see.” I didn’t see at all, but there was no use arguing.

  “How is it you know about their evening activities?” Papa asked.

  “I took Louisa there after dinner,” I said.

  “I see.” His eyes danced with humor.

  “Very funny. She wanted to go down and see what it was all about. Once I knew my sisters were down there, I had to go check on them.”

  “Did you have a nice time?”

  “We did.” Until we didn’t. “The girls taught her how to Charleston. She had a grand time.”

  “Don’t sound so grim,” Papa said. “You’re both young. You should have some excitement before all the responsibilities of parenting come into your life.”

  I smiled, recalling the delight on Louisa’s face when she caught on to the steps of the Charleston. “She deserves some fun if anyone does.”

  “You maybe?”

  “I don’t need fun,” I said. “I have my work.”

  “May I share another bit of wisdom I’ve learned in my decades on earth?”

  “Could I stop you?” I smirked and raised one eyebrow.

  “No, indeed not. The other thing about women—if you don’t show them some fun occasionally, they grow old before their time.”

  “Is that really true?”

  “Yes, it’s true. Life can’t only be work. We only get one chance through. It’s best to enjoy some of it, anyway.”

  “How many nights is Fiona at the club?” I asked, changing the subject before he further pontificated.

  “Just two.” Papa crossed his ankles and continued to look at me as if I amused him. “It’s good for her to use her gifts. They give people joy, you know. Women have it harder than us. Most of the time, they have nothing of their own. Nothing to give them the sense of their own power. That’s what’s wrong with Cymbeline. She wants to do all the things you and Flynn were allowed to do—encouraged to do—simply because you’re men.”

  “I suppose that’s true.”

  “For Fiona, she has her music. She owns it. No one can take her God-given talent away. There’s an outlet for her. Cymbeline has none.” He pointed at the paper. “Do you know how she devours the sports news and scores? She wishes she had the chance to try out for the Olympics, for example.”

  My initial reaction was to laugh, but it wasn’t funny. He was correct. Cymbeline’s life was nothing but a lesson in frustration. “What can we do for Cymbeline? If something doesn’t change, I’m afraid for her.”

  His brows came together. “What do you mean?”

  “There’s a recklessness in her. She needs an outlet of some kind.”

  “Working with Poppy is just such a thing,” Papa said. “She loves being outdoors and with the animals.”

  “I hope you’re right.” I glanced outside. A sparrow hopped along the outside edge of the window. Was the bird trying to get in or stay out? What about Louisa? Did the idea of marriage make her feel trapped? Was she the same as Fiona and Cymbeline? “Papa, how did you know what to do when it came to your marriage to Mama? Did you know instinctively how to make her happy?”

  “Not always. Women are complicated. When I don’t know what she needs, I ask her.”

  “Would that be your advice, then?”

  “Talk about everything, yes. Be sure to hear her, too. Listening is what she’ll need most from you. No one can make anyone else completely happy, but you can give them your full attention when they need to talk or even just be with you. Your obligation is to be her friend and confidant but not magically give her everything she wants and needs. She must find those things in ways that aren’t always wrapped up in you. Especially not a woman like Louisa.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I mean that Louisa is a strong woman who has survived a lot. She will be your equal in all things. Remember that and you’ll have a joyous marriage.”

  ***

  My brother came out to greet us in the driveway in front of his cottage. Louisa had not stopped fiddling with the ribbons in her hat the entire drive over from the big house. I knew she was nervous and had tried to reassure her that my brother and Shannon would be great company.

  “Hello, welcome,” Flynn said as he opened Louisa’s door.

  “Thank you.” Louisa’s glance darted toward me before she stepped out of the car.

  Flynn led us up to the front door. Bushes and flowers were in full bloom in their well-kept front yard. A bunny peeked out from under a rhododendron but quickly disap
peared again. Pots spilling with flowers hung from the rafters in their front porch. My brother had said his wife had a green thumb, and it appeared to be true.

  As we entered the hallway of the cottage, Shannon appeared, wiping her hands on her apron. Her black curls were tied back from her face with a pink scarf that matched the pink in her cheeks.

  “Ah, there you are.” Shannon held her arms out to me. We embraced. “Welcome home.” She turned to Louisa. “I’m so very sorry to have missed your father’s memorial. He was very good to us when my dad died. How’s your mother?

  “Thank you. She’s doing as well as can be expected.”

  “I remember how my mother was,” Shannon said. “Don’t you wish you could do something?”

  “I do.” Louisa handed her a small package. “Something for the baby. Mother made it, not me. It’s a yellow cap. Knitting helps her, so I expect you’ll get a matching sweater to go with it before the baby comes.”

  The rapidity with which Louisa was speaking told me how nervous she was. Shannon, however, was as easy and charming as she always was. If she noticed Louisa’s nerves, she didn’t show it.

  “How kind of her,” Shannon said. “Please thank her for me. Now, come outside. Flynn’s built an area for us to sit and have our supper outdoors during the warm months.”

  She escorted us down the hallway past the sitting room and through the kitchen to the backyard. Flynn had erected a covered patio area on the other side of the grass. Wooden chairs with brightly colored cushions were arranged in a circle with a table amid them. A neatly trimmed hedge provided shelter, making the space seem as intimate as any indoor sitting room. Potted geraniums and begonias decorated the corners.

  “The place is looking good,” I said as I clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ve been busy.”

  “Keeps me out of trouble,” Flynn said. “Summers out at the lodge are slow, so it gives me a lot of time to spend here at home.”

  “You as a homebody.” I wanted to tell him how busy the bar had been but decided it was too risky. I didn’t want to fight with my brother in front of the ladies. “Never thought I’d see the day.”