by Deeanne Gist
Della forced herself to move on. She looked back and forth across the aisle as if she were watching a tennis match. A knitting machine produced yards of fabric, which transformed itself into undergarments. A glove-making machine converted tanned hide into pairs of buttoned kid gloves, all stitched, perfumed, and packed. Wood pulp became rolls of paper. Cocoa became bonbons. Gold and alloy became fountain pens.
And then she spotted him, wedged between an ornate fire wagon and an elaborate fire escape cage. He spoke to two gentlemen, pointing to the ceiling of his display, then making motions with his hands. One man inspected a spigot while another asked a question.
Cullen cocked his left ear toward him.
He wants to know about the spacing of the pipes. She willed him to hear her inner thought as she continued to read the man’s questions and the two of them continued to struggle through the conversation.
The gentleman finally became too frustrated to continue. He and his companion stepped away. Another exhibitor motioned to them, giving them a steady sales pitch as he escorted them to his display. Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, then looked up at her approach. An expression of pleasure flashed across his face before quickly being replaced with polite interest.
“Hello,” he shouted. “What brings you here in the middle of the day? Is everything all right?”
She smiled. “You needn’t shout. I can read what you’re saying.”
“What?” He cupped his left ear.
Touching his arm, she went onto tiptoes and leaned in. “You needn’t shout! I can read what you’re saying!”
He nodded. “Lucky you.”
“I came to tell you the children are practicing for a parade, so I’ve been given the afternoon off.”
“What?”
“I’ve been given the afternoon off!” Goodness. Her voice would be gone if she had to keep this up all day the way he did. “I thought I’d come see your sprinkler system!” She pointed to his display. “Can you show me how it works!”
“My sprinkler system?” He’d reverted to shouting.
She put a finger over her lips. “I can hear you.”
He bounced the butt of his hand against his forehead in an oh-yes-I-forgot motion. Directing her to his display, he began to tell her about it.
His entire countenance changed. His eyes lit up, his expression became animated, his speech became so fast she had to touch his arm. “Slow down! You’re talking too fast!”
His brows lifted. “I thought you could read what I’m saying.”
“I can! But I also want to look at what you’re pointing to!”
He squinted his eyes and cocked his head with a questioning tilt.
Leaning in, she repeated herself.
He nodded and slowed down.
The design was really quite simple and made perfect sense. Water pressure within the pipes forced a valve against a flexible diaphragm. When fire melted a solder joint, the water caused the valve to move outward until the diaphragm burst and a deluge of water poured out. She couldn’t believe he hadn’t sold one to every person who’d seen it. If she were a business owner, she’d certainly have bought one.
“How much are they?” she shouted.
“Depends on the size of the factory or warehouse.”
“It’s brilliant!”
He stared at her. His expression wasn’t exactly blank, but not totally puzzled, either—something in between.
“I said, ‘it’s brilliant’!”
“Yes.” Again, a semibaffled look. “I heard you. Thank you.”
She smiled. “You’re welcome.” Glancing about, she spotted a side door. “It’s terribly loud in here! Can we step outside?”
He studied her lips. “Outside?”
“Yes!”
Offering her his arm, he guided her through the door.
Blessed relief. “Oh my goodness, that was horrible. I don’t know how you stand it. Are your ears ringing?”
“They are.”
“So are mine.” She searched his face. “I’m worried, Cullen. Extremely loud sounds like that can hurt your hearing, especially if the noise continues for a long time. And once you lose it, you won’t ever get that portion back.”
He sighed. “I don’t know what I can do. I have to stay in there.”
“Then you’ll need to put some cotton in your ears or something.”
“I can’t do that. Then I won’t be able to hear anyone at all. That’s why I need the lip-reading lessons so much.”
“What am I saying now?”
She mouthed April.
“April.”
Teeth.
“Teeth.”
Provide.
He squinted. “The pucker was in the middle, then a lip biter right after it. Do it again.”
Provide.
He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“Provide. I said, ‘provide.’ Still, that was very good.”
“I’ve a long way to go, I’m afraid.”
“True, but I think we can move to the next consonant family now.”
He studied her. “That will be our fourth consonant family. Does that mean you’ll teach me a set of hand gestures?”
She sucked in a breath. “Oh . . . I’d hoped you might have forgotten about that.”
“I haven’t.”
“No, I don’t suppose you have.” She worried her lip. “Very well, we’ll do that today. And then, as a reward, let’s take the night off. No practicing puckers. No introducing peekers. Just one night viewing the fair—and you get to choose what we see.”
She expected him to jump at the chance, especially considering the exhibits she’d subjected him to.
Instead, he looked down while opening and closing his pocket watch several times.
“I don’t mind the practice,” he said finally. “And I’ve been looking forward to learning the other consonant families.”
“And we’ll get to those tomorrow. But the truth is, I’d like a break. So today, I’ll teach you some sign language and then we’ll see whatever you want. How does that sound?”
No smile. No sign of excitement. She shook her head. He was such a serious student.
“Don’t you ever do anything for fun?” she asked.
Tucking his watch away, he studied four sculpted lions guarding an obelisk in the South Canal. “Not usually.”
She touched his arm. “Let’s have some fun today, Cullen.”
He gave her a sharp look, but she didn’t withdraw. Every student needed to be rewarded at certain milestones.
“Why don’t you quit early too?” she suggested.
“I have to be inside.”
“No one’s even in there. The place is like a cemetery—albeit a noisy one.”
“I’m sorry. I really need to stay.”
Her shoulders slumped. “All right. But you still choose what we see tonight, okay?”
He swallowed. “I suppose. If that’s what you’d like.”
She smiled. “That’s what I’d like. Same time?”
Nodding, he turned to go.
“Oh, wait.” She touched the watch pinned to her shirtwaist. “My watch quit working, so if I’m a little late, that’s why.”
He frowned. “What’s wrong with it?”
“I don’t know. It simply quit at ten-thirteen this morning, yet it’s completely wound.”
He held out his palm. “May I?”
“Of course.” She unpinned it and handed it to him.
Turning it over in his hand, he ran his nail down the seam and popped it open, then examined its inner workings. Without a word, he removed a pocketknife from his trousers, and with a few adjustments, the gears began to turn again.
“That should do it.” He closed it back up and handed it to her. “You’ll need to set it again. It’s . . .” He checked his watch. “Two-thirty-six.”
Her lips parted. “Thank you. How did you know what was wrong?”
He shrugged. “I like to take things apart and put them back toge
ther again. Watches are among my favorites.”
“Well, I appreciate it very much.” She reset the time, then smashed her chin to her chest while trying to pin it back on. She hated this latch. It was so hard to secure.
“Need some help?” he asked.
She looked up. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all.”
She tilted her head to the side to give him more room. Furrowing his brows, he leaned in close, the now-familiar scent of Brilliantine wafting around them. She’d never noticed his eyelashes before. They weren’t short and stubby, nor were they long exactly. Somewhere in between.
His fingers and knuckles brushed against her, sending a rush of chills across her skin. She sucked in a quick breath.
“Excuse me,” he mumbled, a hint of red touching his cheeks.
Finally, he finished and pulled away. His eyes, a rich dark chocolate, connected with hers. She kept very still, her mind bereft of words and thoughts.
“I’ll see you at the cocoa shop at four.” His voice held a thread of unease and something else, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
She hadn’t meant to embarrass him. “Yes. I’ll see you then. Thank you for fixing my watch.”
Touching the air where his hat would be, he slipped back inside. The noise trumpeted through the open door, then diminished again as it clicked shut behind him.
“Who was that?” John asked, pulling cotton from his ears and leaving his post by the fire escape cage.
Cullen cupped his mouth. “Remember when I told you Vaughn insisted I take lip-reading lessons?”
Crossing his arms over his chest, John nodded, his carrot-colored hair clashing with the red firemen’s shirt he wore.
“Well, that’s my teacher.”
Eyes widening, John glanced toward the door where she’d disappeared. “Thnk she’d have any objection to having two stdnts?”
“You want to learn to lip-read?”
“No.” He wobbled his eyebrows.
Cullen shook his head. “It’s all work, John.”
But that wasn’t entirely true. Despite his best intentions, their conversations over the past few weeks had become less one-sided. But he’d had no choice, not when she asked him endless questions about his family, his farm, and all the inventions he’d come up with over the course of his boyhood and adolescence. He’d only answered questions she specifically asked and kept those answers as succinct as possible, but she’d responded in kind and he found himself enjoying not just their conversations but also her. He’d come to know her far better than he knew most of his friends—except for Wanda.
That was the one thing they hadn’t discussed. He hadn’t kept Wanda a secret on purpose. He’d just tried not to encourage Della’s questions. And she, of course, had never asked about that particular topic. At this point, he wasn’t exactly sure how to bring it up. What would he say? Oh, by the way, I have a woman back home that I love very much and whom I plan to marry on the last Saturday in November.
No. It was irrelevant. It had nothing to do with him and Della. She’d been making small talk only so he could practice his lip-reading. And he’d been trying to keep things impersonal. For all he knew, Della had a man back home whom she planned to marry.
The thought gave him momentary pause.
“All work?” John asked. “Oh well, truth is, I wouldn’t have come even if it weren’t.”
Cullen studied his friend. “And why is that?”
John tapped a clod of dirt on the floor with his boot. “ ‘Cause there’s a gal over at Crowne Pen Company who’s caught my eye.”
“Oh?” Cullen looked at the booth. The salesgirls were busy talking to each other. “Which one?”
“Miss Carpenter. The one in the rust-colored gwn.”
“The orange dress?” he asked.
John smiled. “Yeah. She’s a real beauty and . . . well, I don’t know, mighty special, I guess. You ought to cm out with us one of these nights.”
“Maybe I will.” Cullen pulled his attention away from the women. “So, how was your shift at the firehouse?”
John made a face. “We had to answr our third fire call to the Cold Storage Bldng.”
“The one with the ice-skating rink?” he asked.
“Yeah. The iron smokestack rnning up its center ends several feet short of the tower, leaving nothing but wood in the hood of the cupola.”
“That’s insane. Why haven’t they fixed it?”
“Our chf has lodged a formal request, but nothing’s been done yet.” He dragged a hand down his face. “It doesn’t take us long to put the fires out. They’re more annoying than nythng else.”
“Because there have been so many?”
“Because it’s a heck of a clmb up to the top of that thing. And then once we get there, we have to drag hoses up with our ropes.” He grinned. “At least I’m fghtng fires, though.”
“So you are.”
A group of ladies approached John’s booth. Perking up, he excused himself and scurried over, helping them into the cage. Giggling and flashing their fans, the women squealed as he lifted them to the top. Once they descended, they begged him to put on his helmet. He was all too happy to oblige.
“If you think taking your potential clients outside is going to thwart me, you’re mstaken.”
Turning around, Cullen tried to keep his expression blank. Bulenberg. He’d claimed to be twenty-five, but his face was as smooth as a baby’s backside. Cullen would bet he wasn’t a day over nineteen.
Over the course of the last two months, Cullen had watched him. Tried to read his lips. Tried to figure out what it was he said to keep his visitors so long in his booth.
Maybe it was simply a matter of hearing. Bulenberg could hear. Cullen couldn’t. And for every minute they politely stood in Cullen’s booth, they’d linger in Bulenberg’s for three more.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Bulenberg.”
Sneering, the boy pointed toward the door Cullen and Della had stepped through. “I saw you. You showed that lady your system. She was very enthusiastic, then you whisked her out the side door so I wouldn’t have a chance to talk to her. Just like you did that insurance man.”
Cullen lifted his brows. “You think a woman wants to buy my sprinkler system?”
“Don’t act all innocent. She’s probably here with her father or something and will go running to him with tales of your sprinklers.”
Cullen harrumphed.
“Roll your eyes all you want, McNamara. But the truth is, we’re two months into the fair and you haven’t sold a sngl one. And taking candidates out the side door won’t stop them from eventually coming to me.” Bulenberg looked him up and down. “Maybe you’d best run back to your farm where your mechanical ‘genius’ is better appreciated.”
He could squash him with two blows. But he wasn’t sure what the commission’s views were on that, and he couldn’t afford to be dishonorably discharged.
Instead, he stared. Hard.
“I think your bark is worse than your bite, McNamara.”
“Care to find out?”
Tsking, Bulenberg returned to his booth. “Just don’t try it again or I’ll come right out there with you.”
I’d like to see you try, Cullen thought. Still, he wished he could afford that demonstration. All of the fair’s exhibits had finally been installed and completed, so the commission might be open to a new query. But he couldn’t afford the materials, so why waste their time and his?
WOODED ISLAND
“They meandered down winding paths, every bend bringing new delights.”
CHAPTER
18
Della and Cullen cleaned up their dinner boxes, then left Blooker’s Cocoa House.
“I thought we’d go to the Wooded Island for our hand gestures,” she said. “I believe you said there were places where no one would see us?”
He nodded. “That’s what I’ve been told.”
“Well then, let’s see
what we can find.”
The canals and lagoons cut the Wooded Island off from all main thoroughfares. The only way to reach it was over high-backed bridges every bit as beautiful as the Parisian ones she’d seen in lithographs.
WOODED ISLAND
Guarding the one they now crossed was a statue of a grim-faced Indian, his sinewy, muscular body not unlike that of the man beside her. She closed her eyes, indulging for a brief second in the image that thought conjured up.
At the peak of the bridge, Cullen paused, turning them toward the rail. He said nothing, but he didn’t need to. On every side they were surrounded by palatial architecture, beautiful vistas, and marble-like sculptures. The colossal appearance of the buildings made them seem like mountain ranges, dominating and belittling everything around them. She couldn’t imagine anything but the New Jerusalem surpassing it in beauty.
Sadness crept over her, for in another four months, this would all be a deserted stretch of low-lying ground. Before the first rendering had occurred, before the first nail had been hammered, the decision had been made. Instead of continuing in perpetuity, come November, the entire fair would be torn down and destroyed.
Suppressing a sigh, she watched a blue gondola glide by, maneuvered by two Venetian men whose olive skin seemed even darker against their colorful costumes. The boat’s narrow prow cut through the crystal lagoon waters, its keel barely touching the surface. Gold ornaments and velvet hangings dragged lazily behind it in the water.
GONDOLA
She would love to ride in one. The vantage point had to be spectacular. But they were way too expensive for her purse.
“You ready?” he asked.
Stepping back, she allowed him to guide her onto the island. How quiet it was. Only the sound of distant music, the ripple of waves, or an occasional whispering couple broke the solitude.
They meandered down winding paths, every bend bringing new delights. Bubbling fountains called out to birds. Glimpses of swans, ducks, and pelicans could be caught along the sedgy banks, while beds and beds of flowers flooded the senses. Even the lagoon’s wind was soft, barely shaking the petals of larkspurs, daisies, sweet williams, and marigolds. A teasing breath of roses tickled her nose, though she’d yet to see any.