“Good morning,” he said.
“Am I in time for William’s bath?”
“We were just preparing it,” she replied.
“Had you forgotten you’d invited me?”
“No, I…”
“Just didn’t think I’d take you up on it,” he finished for her.
“Well, I know how busy you are.”
“I don’t want to get in the way.” Now he wondered if it had been a good idea to come.
“You won’t be in the way.” She gestured for him to follow them to the dressing area where she poured hot water into a basin, cooled it with water from a nearby pitcher and checked the temperature. “When he was first born and the weather colder, we used to do this in front of the fire.” She turned. “It’s ready, Mrs. Trent.”
The woman tucked William firmly beneath one arm and poured water over his hair, turning it a dark gold against his pale scalp. Claire handed her the soap and she lathered and rinsed. Claire blotted his head dry, and Mrs. Trent propped him upright in the ceramic basin, holding him beneath one arm and supporting his back and head.
It seemed a routine the women and baby were familiar with, but Nicholas watched with fascination. Imagine handling a slick squirming infant in such a confident manner! As soon as William was seated in the basin and Claire sponged water over his shoulders and round little belly, he kicked and flailed his arms. Water splashed in all directions.
Claire laughed.
Nicholas laughed.
“My, but you’re a strong boy,” she crooned, laughter in her voice. “Handsome, too.”
“We’ll have to be watchful of you at the picnic tomorrow,” Nicholas added. “You’ll catch the eyes of all the girls.”
She laughed and met his gaze, the smile softening her exquisitely feminine features and adding a glow to her skin and eyes. She had promised he’d see her smile if he attended William’s bath. That was why he’d come.
And the sight took his breath away.
The smile revealed her straight white teeth and a curved line at each corner of her lovely lips. Her cheeks were flushed with pleasure, and a drop of water clung to her chin. Huge wet spots dotted her dress and apron.
Her radiant joy at motherhood became her as much as the exultant flush of passion. And he’d seen them both.
William gave a healthy kick and splattered even Nicholas. He laughed out loud.
The surprise in her eyes gave him pause. But of course, she’d never before heard him laugh, either.
Claire placed the baby on her bed and dried him. His hair stood in pale spikes atop his head, and Nicholas laughed again. She had William diapered and dressed within an amazingly few minutes. Her wet clothing must be uncomfortable, and she needed to change.
“We’ll be leaving at about ten tomorrow morning,” he said.
“We’ll be ready.”
“What about your mother?” he asked.
“Don’t worry about her. I’ve arranged for Mrs. Trent to watch her while we’re gone.”
“I wasn’t worried about her. I thought you might like to take her along for the outing.”
Her pale eyebrows drew together, and he regretted chasing the content expression from her face. “I’ll ask her,” she said.
Sarah watched him exit the room. Just yesterday, she’d tried to take Celia for a carriage ride, and the contrary woman had complained the entire time. Sarah hadn’t allowed her to take along her liquor, so she’d pouted and whined, and finally become belligerent, and Sarah had brought her home posthaste.
Her erratic behavior worried Sarah.
Nicholas’s concern touched her deeply, however, and added to the burden of guilt she carried daily. Each day she learned a little more about him—just enough to raise him in her esteem and lower her opinion of herself even further. What tonight and tomorrow held, she could only imagine.
Sarah had helped Celia dress, making sure her shoes matched, and that she didn’t carry a flask on her person. She’d spent hours coaching her on appropriate behavior for her first appearance at the Halliday’s dinner table, and prayed things went smoothly. Nicholas and Leda were waiting for them in the dining room.
“You didn’t bring William?” Leda asked.
“No, he was napping soundly, and I didn’t want to disturb him.” Actually she had wanted to avoid any extra complications.
“Good evening, Celia,” Nicholas greeted the woman, obviously remembering the title she preferred.
“Evenin’” Celia replied, seating herself beside Sarah.
“I understand you’re quite handy with a needle and thread,” Leda said, breaking the ice.
“I’ve done a bit of sewing in my time,” Celia agreed.
“And you’ve taught Claire the skills,” Leda said. “That’s lovely.”
Celia reached for her wineglass. Sarah and Nicholas exchanged a look as she took a swallow. “Actually, Claire always wanted to do something else,” Celia replied.
“Did you see a lot of the plays Claire sewed for?” Nicholas asked.
“Some.”
Tension knotted Sarah’s shoulders. What on earth would they converse about that wouldn’t be a dangerous topic? She recalled all those newspapers Celia went through, and racked her brain for a newsworthy item.
Finally thinking of something she’d overheard Monty Gallamore and Nicholas discussing, she brought up the amendment currently going through the senate and—with surprising intelligence—Celia bantered it back and forth with Nicholas until the dessert was served.
She and Leda shared a smile, and Mrs. Pratt poured coffee.
“We’re attending a picnic tomorrow,” Sarah said, broaching the new topic gently. “Nicholas told me he’d like you to join us.”
Celia polished off another glass of wine, and declined the coffee. “I’d rather stay here.”
“It would be a good chance for you to get some air,” Sarah coaxed. “Enjoy the weather.”
“You know how I get along with air,” she replied.
The matter was settled. Sarah glanced at Nicholas. “Just so you know you’re welcome,” he said.
Celia appeared embarrassed by his words. “I’m not good around people. Trust me. You wouldn’t want me there.”
“We’ll leave that up to you,” he replied. “Excuse me, ladies.”
“Do you have any opinions on bustles?” Leda asked.
Celia cocked an eyebrow at her.
“I’ve been trying to decide on a dress for an upcoming event, and I can’t make up my mind about the bustle. Maybe you’d look at the pattern for me.”
“Sure,” Celia said with a shrug.
Leave it to Leda to try to make her feel more welcome, and not to hold any bad feelings about what had happened that first day. Sarah accompanied them to Leda’s chamber, and later took Celia to her room.
“You’d think I was really somebody the way that woman treats me,” she said, letting Sarah help her from her dress.
“She’s quite a woman,” Sarah agreed. “She’s worked hard in her life, too, and she doesn’t consider herself above others.”
“Her sons, too, huh?” she asked.
Her sons? Yes, Stephen had been much like Leda. But Nicholas? He treated his employees well, and that spoke volumes for him, but he hadn’t thought Claire was good enough for Stephen. She couldn’t tell Celia that, though.
“Her sons, too,” she agreed.
“Could you find me a drink?” Celia asked.
“Don’t you think you had enough at dinner?”
“I’ll let you know when I’ve had enough.”
Sarah brought her a bottle and left her alone.
Saturday couldn’t have been a nicer day for the outdoor festivity. The sun shone bright and warm, but not hot enough to spoil the outing. The number of makeshift tables spread with cloths and laden with baskets and crates amazed her. She’d never attended anything as informal, as all of her father’s business acquaintances were stuffy old bankers and investors. Even her o
wn school activities had been formal affairs, and a ride through the Boston Common the closest she’d been to nature.
“Come see the trophy we made for this year’s competition!” Several men, all talking at once, gathered around Nicholas.
“Don’t worry, we didn’t do it on company time,” someone else laughed.
“Claire?” he said over his shoulder as they ushered him off.
She smiled and waved. “Don’t worry about me.”
Leda had found a spot in the shade to visit with a group of chattering women working on quilting squares, and Sarah wandered about the area on her own.
Children ran and played, laughter ringing across the lush green countryside. Booths had been constructed with carnival-like games, and she watched in fascination as children of all ages tried their skill at tossing rings over bottles and throwing balls at stacked cartons.
“Mrs. Halliday! Claire!” Sarah glanced around.
Mary Crane, with a rosy-cheeked David on her hip and Elissa clinging to her purple and blue taffeta skirts, hurried toward her. Sarah admired the dress Mary had cleverly designed from two of Claire’s dresses, using both to come up with enough material to make the garment modest and lovely.
“Hello,” Sarah said, greeting the three of them.
“Have you had something to drink yet?” Mary asked. “You must be thirsty after your long ride.”
“I’d love something cool,” Sarah replied.
“Follow me.” Mary led her to a spot beneath a towering oak where two barrels sat stacked on top of others so that the spigots were accessible. “That one’s lemonade, and this one’s tea. Or if you’re inclined the men have brew over yonder.”
“Lemonade sounds good.” They filled tin cups and drank.
“Come on, I want you to meet some of the others.”
Sarah walked beside her, and Mary introduced her to the wives of the iron workers. Several of them wore dresses made over from Claire’s clothing. Even the children wore bright-colored shirts and pinafores. Sarah smiled, and hoped Claire would have been pleased to see her clothing make so many people happy.
A sharp-chinned young woman named Vella crooned at William and chatted with Sarah and Mary. “Your brother-in-law is the dearest man,” Vella exclaimed. “We look forward to this picnic every year. My sister’s husband works at Neligh Ironworks, and the workers don’t have it near as good as we do here.”
“Is your husband an iron worker?” Sarah asked.
“I’m not married yet.” She blushed. “My daddy is one of the furnace foremen.”
William got cranky, and Mary found Sarah a place to sit in the shade, where she fed him within the circle of young mothers and beneath the concealment of a flannel sheet.
He fell asleep immediately.
“Leave him here, and I’ll watch over him,” Mary said. David had fallen asleep, too, and Elissa and another little girl played with scrap dolls on a nearby coverlet.
Sarah glanced at the circle of pleasant-faced women.
“Please,” Mary said softly. “It’s the least I can do for you. You can enjoy yourself while he naps.”
“Well. If you’re sure you don’t mind.”
“Watching over a soundly sleepin’ baby isn’t nearly as tough as carin’ for a whole sick family,” she replied. “And I know you don’t want anything in return, but, well, I feel like we’re friends now. Friends do things like this.”
Sarah blinked back her surprise. And smiled. She could use a friend. “Thank you, Mary. I’ll wander for a while.”
Mary beamed.
Feeling quite liberated, Sarah walked among the families of the iron workers. It seemed everyone knew who she was. Of course they hadn’t seen her before, but her black mourning dress stood out from the clothing of the other women. Time after time, others stopped to share their sympathies or thank her for the material, or tell her they’d heard about her coming to the Cranes’ aid.
Surprisingly, they never made her feel like an outsider, and before long she recognized why. Whenever she observed Nicholas, she found him within clusters of the workers, sipping foamy beer, exchanging joking remarks or just sitting companionably in their groups. Even Leda remained with the older women most of the morning, sewing and visiting.
Sarah had seen the side of the Hallidays’ life-style that reminded her of her father’s, but she’d never seen this side—well, perhaps just a glimpse from time to time, such as Nicholas’s interaction with the Gruvers. Each person here today was in Nicholas’s employ, yet he walked among them like an equal.
Their livelihoods depended upon him. But Nicholas obviously believed his livelihood depended on them as well.
The iron workers were not wealthy. They lived in tiny shacklike homes, but their children were loved; they weren’t treated simply as small humans who should be ignored until they grew up. The concept warmed Sarah’s heart.
And Nicholas had afforded all this for his people. It was more than generosity. They earned adequate wages and had time off to spend with their families. He provided them with a sense of community and gave them the opportunity to share this carefree day. A new sense of pride and appreciation blossomed within Sarah.
A new level of excitement ran through the crowd, and the men congregated on a gently sloping bank near a shallow creek. The woman traveled that way, too, and Sarah returned for William so that Mary could join the others. He was awake and watching the leaves overhead in fascination.
“I thought you might like to see what they’re doing,” she said to Mary.
“You come, too. It’s a tug-of-war.”
Sarah changed William, found her parasol and followed.
The men were dividing into teams. About half, Nicholas among them, crossed the stream via a small bridge upstream and gathered on the opposite bank. He’d removed his jacket and rolled back his sleeves, and his shirt gleamed white in the sunlight.
The sight of him from this distance, tall and handsome and well respected, gave Sarah an odd proprietary feeling, and for a brief moment she wished she had the right to think of him in that manner. But she didn’t. She had no rights at all where Nicholas Halliday was concerned. But she wouldn’t ruin her day with self-disparaging thoughts, so she shook them off.
A long fat rope came into sight. One of the men tied a huge knot in the end and tossed that end across the stream. Nicholas caught it and men lined up behind him, taking their places along the length of rope.
The same formation took place on this side of the water, and the rope drew tight across the expanse.
A shot rang out, and the men on both sides pulled in opposite directions, some leaning clear back, all straining and grappling for footholds.
Shouts went up from the women. Several had run down to the bridge to watch.
Sarah had never seen anything like it. “Oh, my goodness,” she said, gripping the handle of her parasol. “If one side doesn’t pull hard enough, they’ll be dragged into the water!”
“That’s the idea,” Mary said with a laugh. “The winners are the ones with the dry shoes.”
Sarah laughed. “What fun!”
It seemed so strange to see Nicholas and Milos participating in the iron workers’ games.
The women and children around them shouted and cheered, calling out for their husbands and sons and fathers.
Dozens of pairs of feet dug into the creek bank, slipping, creating divots, grappling for footholds. Sarah held her breath and watched as Nicholas strained in tandem with the other men, the muscles beneath his shirt bunching, his face red and perspiring.
He worked frantically to keep his footing, losing inches at a time and doubling his efforts.
His team now toiled to keep Nicholas from the water’s edge. They gained a foot to the pleasure of the crowd, but then lost it again. A groan came up from the onlookers.
Sarah felt the tension in her own body. She clenched her fingers on the parasol and bounced on her strong leg in excitement.
She’d never seen p
eople interact m quite this way before. She’d seen horse races and polo games and had played croquet, but this was different.
The man directly behind Nicholas lost his footing on the bank and slid, knocking Nicholas’s feet from under him. Nicholas clung to the rope, but couldn’t regain his footing. A third man stumbled and released the rope before he fell atop the men in front of him.
The woman went wild with screams and cheers.
Nicholas gained his feet only to have the rope drag him, laughing, into the water, followed by half a dozen of the men behind him. They slapped him on the back and he bent over with his hands on his knees, gulping air.
The men on this side of the stream hauled the rope in and the others released it before their feet, too, hit the water. The end of the rope dragged through the stream and came up on the bank. The smelters raised a cheer and slapped one another on the back.
Nicholas and his team made a production of stomping through the calf-high stream, splashing and sending water flying up the bank ahead of them.
The winners extended their hands and hauled them up the bank in easy camaraderie.
Sarah followed Mary and Vella and sat with the children while the women set the meal out. The task was accomplished in no time, and Sarah went in search of Leda. She discovered Nicholas with her, his white shirt damp and wrinkled. She glanced down.
A dark patch of mud stained the seat of his trousers, and he wore a worn pair of wet brogans she’d never seen before.
He turned his attention to the baby in her arms. “Did you like the tug-of-war, too, William?” he asked. “Soon as you get a few pounds on, you’ll help me.”
Leda handed Sarah a blanket to spread and took William. “You have to let him stay with me the rest of the afternoon. We old ladies need a little entertainment, too.”
They prepared plates from the huge spread of enormous dishes that had been laid out, and back at their blanket, they settled and ate. The food was delicious, and Sarah ate until she could hold no more.
The Cranes waved from a blanket nearby.
Sarah waved and observed their close-knit family for a few minutes. “Where’s Milos?” she asked.
Cheryl St. John Page 19