Tomorrow's Dreams

by Heather Cullman

  “But Miles didn’t show, did he?” From his strained expression she could tell that he was struggling not to laugh.

  Mortified, she dropped her gaze from his face to scowl down at the bonnet. Giving the stubborn streamer a series of vicious but futile tugs, she admitted, “No, but I’m sure he’ll be along any—” Her hands stilled suddenly, and she shot him a suspicious look. “How did you know?”

  An enigmatic half smile curved his lips. “Call it a hunch.”

  “A hunch? Ha! I’d bet my lucky ribbon that you did something awful to Miles, like tie him up and toss him into the corral, just so you could ask your blasted question!”

  “If we were wagering, I’d now own a lucky ribbon.” Seth’s half smile broadened into a full one. “By the way, thanks for reminding me about the question. It had slipped my mind.”

  Penelope clicked her tongue between her teeth and rolled her eyes in a gesture of disbelief. “I’ll just bet you forgot!”

  “In that case, you lose again. Maybe you’d better stop betting while you’re ahead.”

  She graced him with a scowl. “Be that as it may, I still don’t believe that Miles would willingly let you escort me.”

  “He was willing all right.”

  “Oh?”

  Seth tipped his head to one side and studied her for a moment, then shrugged. “Since you’re so worried about the harebrained jackanape’s welfare, I guess I’ll have to put aside all gentlemanly discretion and tell you the truth. Your escort was detained by an obliging young lady named Sweet-Lips Alice.”

  At Penelope’s blush he observed, “I can see by your face that you know who I’m talking about.”

  “I’ve heard her mentioned,” Penelope muttered, humiliated to feel her flush darken a shade. She’d heard more than a mere mention of the notorious Alice. Not a day passed since they had arrived in Denver that Miles hadn’t regaled her with his exploits with the prostitute. Through his graphic descriptions, she was beginning to feel as if she knew the woman personally, a sensation she found disturbing. Strangely enough, she was even more disturbed by the thought of Seth patronizing Goldie’s.

  Not that I care what the blasted man does, she reminded herself sternly. Yet try as she might, she couldn’t deny that she did care what he did. Worse yet, she was jealous of whomever he did it with. Her heart twisted with sudden misery. Just as undeniable as her feelings for Seth was the fact that he’d visited the brothel that very afternoon. How else would he know about Miles and Alice? His assignation at Goldie’s was probably the pressing appointment he’d mentioned at the drugstore.

  Unable to meet his gaze for fear that he’d see the hurt in her eyes, she busied herself with her bonnet, which was now beginning to look to be permanently affixed to her finger. “How is it that you know about Miles and Alice’s—tryst?” she blurted out before she could stop herself.

  Seth shrugged. “I stopped by the saloon awhile ago, and Monty happened to mention Miles’s rendezvous. I put two and two together and knew you’d need someone to escort you to the theater.” Correctly divining the purpose of her question, he leaned over and added, “Never fear, Princess. I wasn’t at Goldie’s sampling her girls’ charms.”

  Penelope sniffed. “As if I care.”

  “Well, I do care,” he replied softly. “Very much.”

  Penelope stared up at his face, completely caught off guard by his admission. His smile was gentle, and his eyes were shadowed with what? Regret? Flustered and confused, she murmured, “Why?”

  Tucking the nosegay into the crook of his arm, Seth grasped her wrist and raised her hand to examine the tangled ribbon more closely. “Just because we argued doesn’t mean I no longer care.”

  “But last night, you said—”

  “Forget last night,” he interjected, his hand tightening convulsively on her wrist. “I behaved like a fool. The shock of finding you at the Shakespeare made me say things I didn’t mean.” His grip tightened a degree as he remembered his vile behavior the evening before, drawing a soft whimper from Penelope.

  Instantly he relaxed his grasp. “Sorry,” he murmured.

  “It’s all right. You didn’t hurt me.”

  Her eyes were glowing softly and were filled with such a wealth of tenderness, that Seth was struck speechless by the turbulence of his own answering emotion. When he was finally able to speak, his voice had dried to a whisper. “You’re wrong. I did hurt you, and very badly I suspect.”

  “Oh, no.” She nodded to where her wrist lay cradled in his hand. “See. My wrist isn’t even the slightest bit red.”

  Staring down at her wrist, which looked so delicate resting against the obvious strength of his square palm, he replied, “I was referring to your heart … your soul … about New York. I—”

  “Seth—” she interrupted in a broken voice.

  “No.” He shook his head sharply, suddenly desperate to say all the things he’d wished he could say a hundred times before. “Please … just hear me out?”

  His gaze locked into hers, silently pleading for permission to continue. He longed to apologize for the terrible things he’d said and done in New York; he needed to seek her forgiveness. And no matter how long it took, no matter the personal price, he wanted to rebuild the collapsed bridges of trust between them.

  When she didn’t answer, he repeated in a breathless whisper, “Please, sweetheart?” All of a sudden regaining Penelope’s regard seemed the most important thing in the world. Not for the reasons he’d given himself earlier: not for the sake of his friendship with Jake and certainly not out of some misguided sense of gallantry. But for the sake of his own peace of mind.

  After a moment, Penelope nodded her consent.

  He let out his breath in a forceful gust, stunned to discover that he’d been holding it. With a tiny smile of gratitude playing on his lips, he began, “I said a lot of hurtful things that night in New York, things said in the heat of anger that I didn’t mean. I was a bastard, and I’ve never been able to forgive myself for treating you so shabbily. I needed—”

  His voice faltered as he felt Penelope’s wrist slide from his hand, and for a moment he was overcome with a crushing sense of defeat, certain that she was retreating from both him and his apology. But then he felt her soft, cool palm press against his, and when her fingers, ribbon and all, threaded through his, he found the strength to continue.

  Staring at the bonnet dangling from between their entwined hands, and thinking that he’d never seen a more wonderful sight, Seth confessed, “I’ve said and done a lot of stupid things; but none that I regret more than hurting you. I always promised myself that if I ever had the chance to make things right with you, I would. So I’m asking you …” He gave his head a shake and clutched her hand tighter. “No. I’m begging you to forgive me, to give me a chance to make up for the terrible way I treated you.”

  When she opened her mouth, perhaps, Seth feared, to deny his request, he rushed to clarify, “I’m not asking that we go back to being lovers, and I certainly don’t expect you to care for me the way you once did. All I’m asking is to be your friend.”

  Penelope suddenly had difficulty drawing a breath, hardly daring to believe what she was hearing. How many times had she, too, prayed for a chance to right the wrong they’d done each other in New York … for her own sake as well as Tommy’s?

  She stared at their clasped hands reflectively, noting with a pang that he was caressing her thumb with his, just the way he had when they were in love. Filled with sudden grief for the love that once was and would never again be, she tore her gaze away from the wrenching sight and refocused on her swaying bonnet.

  She had to remember that he was only offering her friendship, a far cry from the turbulent carousal of passion they had once shared. She sighed inwardly. Friendship. It would have to be enough. Perhaps nurturing that friendship would grow to where she could trust him enough to tell him about Tommy.

  “Say yes, Princess,” she heard him whisper urgently. When she lo
oked up to reply, she was stunned into speechlessness. Never, not even during their most intimate moments, had he worn an expression of such naked vulnerability. Seeing him like this, he who was always so confident and seemingly invincible, looking so hopeful, yet so uncertain, made her long to pull him into her arms and croon away his fears the way she did Tommy when he was frightened. Aching with tenderness, she dragged in a ragged breath and exhaled, “Yes. I’d like to be friends.”

  It was all Seth could do not to pull Penelope into his arms and shout his joy between pressing kisses to her sweetly bowed lips. But, of course, they had only agreed to be friends, and since he intended to see that their relationship never again transcend those platonic bounds, he restrained his impulses.

  Turning his attention back to the bonnet streamer, he whispered, “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  They fell silent while he untangled the ribbon, each lost in his own thoughts, both ignoring their hopeless longing to be more than just friends. After several minutes, Seth freed her finger.

  “There now,” he murmured, smoothing the crumbled streamer between his fingers. Smiling faintly, he set the bonnet atop her head and tied the ribbons just below her left ear. As he puffed the bow loops, the chimes from the parlor clock echoed through the hallway and out the front door, breaking the intimate spell.

  “Blast! It’s seven-thirty! I’ll never be ready in time for the curtain.” Penelope slammed the front door closed and gave Seth a tug toward the porch steps. “We’ve got to go. Now!”

  Without budging so much as an inch, Seth removed the bouquet from where it was still wedged in the crook of his arm and pressed it into her free hand. “We’re not going anywhere until you fetch a shawl,” he informed her, nodding at her bare shoulders and arms. “I won’t have you getting chilled.”

  When she looked to argue, he reminded her, “You promised to do my bidding while in Denver, and I’m bidding you to get a wrap.” Laying his hand over hers, he closed her fingers around the ribbon-wrapped flower stems. “Besides, I seem to remember buying you a green cashmere shawl to match that gown.”

  “You still intend to hold me to our bargain?” she inquired, incredulously. “I mean, since we’re friends and all, well, I thought we might forget about our deal.”

  Seth chuckled and shook his head. “Oh, no. There will be no worming out of our bargain. All our agreements stand, including your acting as my valet and my asking a question a day.”

  “But—”

  “No ‘buts,’ no exceptions. Rule number one of friendship: Friends always honor their word, and as such I expect you to honor yours.” Gently nudging her toward the door, he added, “Now, go get your wrap. We’re late for the variety hall, remember?”

  Scowling, she hurried to do as he commanded. When she returned a moment later with the shawl in question draped around her shoulders, Seth gallantly tipped his top hat and offered her his arm. Seizing it, she pulled him down the porch stairs and rushed him down the walkway toward the gate.

  To Penelope’s vexation, he was slow to fall into step and soon lagged behind. “For pity’s sake, Seth! It’s going to take us all night to get to the variety hall if you don’t hurry up.” Tossing him an irritated glance, she scolded, “With your long legs I’d think that—oh, my!” She stopped abruptly in front of the gate, her annoyance transforming into dismay. “You’re limping! Why didn’t you tell me that you’d hurt your leg?”

  “Because my leg isn’t hurt,” he informed her cryptically.

  “Then, why are you limping like that?”

  “Because my reluctant valet was unavailable to help me apply the salve I purchased this afternoon.” He grinned wickedly as he unlatched the whitewashed gate. “Or have you already forgotten the conversation you were eavesdropping on this afternoon?”

  Penelope certainly hadn’t forgotten, and she had the good grace to flush. “I-I wasn’t eavesdropping!” she protested.

  “So you’ve said,” he returned evenly, ushering her through the gate. “All right, then. For the sake of our newfound friendship, we’ll strike a compromise. We’ll say that you overheard my, conversation.” He extended his hand. “Agreed?”

  “Oh. All right,” she muttered ungraciously, giving his hand an unenthusiastic shake. “I agree. But only because I don’t have time to argue the point right now.” Dropping her hand from his, she grumbled, “Can we please go to the variety hall now?”

  “Your wish is my command.” With that, he whisked her down the street with as much speed as his sore backside would allow.

  They walked in silence for several minutes; she, feigning interest in the shop windows along Blake Street; he, waiting for something to send a flicker of interest across her face, thus providing him the opportunity to resume their conversation.

  They hadn’t gone more than a block before he saw her eyes widen and felt her steps falter. As she tilted her head for a better view into the shop window, her lips parted and slowly curled up at the corners. So sweet, so rapturous was her smile, that it took all his willpower to tear his gaze away and look into the window to see what had prompted such a response.

  There, hanging in the grimy butcher shop window, were a bloody side of beef and two dead chickens. His nostrils flared with repulsion as he quickly glanced back at Penelope. She was still smiling in that same moonstruck manner, only more so.

  Seth frowned. Could it be that she was hungry? Was she envisioning the chicken braised in Madeira wine sauce, and the beef roasted and surrounded by a ring of fluffy puffed potatoes? Troubled that Penelope might be so ravenous as to gawk at meat in a butcher shop window the way most woman ogled a display of Paris fashions, he followed the direction of her gaze.

  Then he, too, smiled. Braced in the lower right corner of the window was a poster announcing the arrival of a circus the following Saturday. He studied the colorfully lithographed placard for a moment before shifting his attention back to Penelope, who now looked barely able to contain her excitement.

  Overwhelmed with tenderness, Seth gently laid his hand over her small one resting on his arm. “Are you fond of the circus, sweetheart?” he asked quietly, giving her hand a light squeeze.

  “Yes. But it’s been years since I’ve seen one.”

  Seth didn’t miss the note of longing in her voice, nor was he blind to the shadow of wistfulness that flitted across her features. Wanting to nurture the unexpected intimacy of the moment, he encouraged, “What did you like best?”

  “The elephants,” she replied without hesitation. “I always thought they looked kind and wise.”

  Seth considered the picture of the elaborately bedecked elephant at the bottom of the poster. Rubbing his jaw thoughtfully, he mused, “He does appear to be a pleasant sort of beast, doesn’t he?” He tipped his head to one side and narrowed his eyes. “You know something? With those big ears and wrinkly hide, he kind of reminds me of an old miner I once hooked up with. He was a nice old fellow with a fondness for butterscotch … and peanuts.”

  Penelope giggled and shot him a mischievous look. “My father always said that the elephants reminded him of the two old maids who lived next door, all gray and wrinkled with noses long enough to stick into everyone else’s business.” She grinned at Seth’s hoot of laughter. “We had such fun looking at the animals and deciding which of our acquaintances each of them resembled. My mother would have swooned had she heard our wickedness.”

  “It sounds like you and your father were close,” Seth commented as they resumed their trek to the Shakespeare.

  “We were. By the time I was born, Jake was fourteen and our sister, Annie, was eighteen, both too old to be interested in the circus any longer. But my father never outgrew it. He adored clowns and aerial acts, so I was only four the first time he took me. I, too, fell in love with the color and excitement.”

  She paused as Seth handed her down from the boardwalk into the street. “From then on, until my parents died, my father and I always had a date together whe
never the circus was in town.”

  Seth smiled gently down at her upturned face. “Your father sounds like a wonderful man. You must miss him a great deal.”

  “I do. After my parents died in the fire, I often comforted myself by remembering all the wonderful times we’d had at the circus.” She bowed her head then and in a choked voice that barely rose above a whisper, confessed, “I felt so lost and uncertain as to where I belonged and to whom, that I pretended that the circus was my family and that the elephant was my special friend. I imagined myself all decked out in a scandalous purple and gold costume, riding atop my elephant down the streets of every town in America, waving to the adoring crowds.”

  Moved by her unexpected confidence, Seth murmured, “I think that that was a wonderful dream. Did you tell Jake about it?”

  She shook her head. “He was living in San Francisco, and it took several months for him to travel to New York. By the time he arrived, I was so wretched living with my soberside aunt, and so grateful that he wanted me to live with him, that I was determined to put aside all my childish fancies and act like an adult. I wanted to make sure he never regretted my guardianship.”

  “Poor Princess. So you never again went to the circus?”

  “Three months after we arrived in San Francisco, a small circus came to town. Jake insisted on taking me, saying that I was far too solemn for a child of ten and that I needed a few lessons in having fun. When I timidly mentioned how much I loved the elephants, he confessed that he too harbored a secret fondness for them.” She paused to release a soft, bell-like peal of laughter. “Do know what he did then?”

  “Knowing your brother, probably something outrageous.”

  “Look who’s calling who outrageous,” Penelope teased. “What he did was tell me a story how he once stole the stable boy’s clothes and snuck down to where the circus was camped. He said he pretended to be a street urchin in desperate need of a meal and offered the elephant trainer his help in washing the elephants in exchange for food. It took a bit of pestering, but the trainer finally took pity on him. Jake said that it was the best afternoon he’d ever had, well worth the hiding he received for running off like that and frightening our mother half to death.”