The green dress, matching cloak, and feathered traveling hat had been Mama’s, and although they’d not been of the most current fashion, they’d had little actual wear. Despite the strain to her eyes, Mollie had recut and sewn the pieces into respectable, if rather plain, versions of the newest mode. She had been able to salvage a bit of burnished, copper-colored piping from another of Mama’s old gowns, and that had added a flash of color and a bit of smartness to the dress and cloak. Whatever confidence the outfit had given Mollie, however, was rapidly draining away the clearer it became that she was well and truly stranded, completely alone in an unfamiliar city.
At the end of the platform, a tall man dressed in sturdy laborer’s clothing was directing two other men as they loaded crates into a large cargo wagon. Two big, dapple gray, Percheron geldings stood placidly in harness, lazily switching their tails at droning flies and shifting their weight on plate-sized hooves.
The man in charge had discarded his coat despite the autumn nip of the day, and it lay on the driver’s bench of the wagon where he’d casually tossed it. Leather suspenders held up his light woolen trousers, and his pinstriped shirt was open at the collarless neck, his sleeves rolled up to the elbows. A broadbrimmed hat shaded his face, and Mollie, squinting behind her dark lenses, was surprised, and a little nonplussed, to see his dark hair curling out intriguingly from beneath it. The gentleman was in need of a trim – something the fastidious Rev. Blaswell would never have neglected – but Mollie thought the man’s thick, unruly hair suited him.
I wonder what it would feel like to run my fingers through? The thought came unbidden, and it so shocked Mollie that she gasped, covering her mouth with her gloved hand as though to keep the scandalous thought from finding voice.
At the sound of the small, sharp intake of breath behind him, the man turned. When he caught sight of Mollie, he straightened, tugged the brim of his hat even lower, and cleared his throat. For a long moment, she thought he studied her, although she couldn’t be certain, as his eyes were so shadowed beneath the hat brim.
Then he spoke. “Beg pardon, Miss,” he said, his tone deep, his accent a little brisker than she was used to hearing in Savannah. “Are you all right? May I be of assistance?”
Embarrassed, Mollie shook her head. “Oh, no! That is, I, well, I-I’m not sure.…”
What did she dare say to this man, a total stranger? As he frowned questioningly and cocked his head, Mollie’s glance darted to the crates being loading. Grant Park Zoo, Atlanta, Georgia was stenciled in large letters on each one in paint dark enough that she could decipher the words without trouble.
The zoo. Goodness, that was a safe enough enterprise, wasn’t it? After all, people who cared for animals were generally kind and helpful, weren’t they? Mollie took a deep breath, plowed onward.
“I beg your pardon for interrupting your work, suh,” she said hesitantly. “It’s just, perhaps y’all would be kind enough to tell me where I might find suitable, reasonably priced lodging. I-I was expecting to be met, but, well, there seems to have been some misunderstanding.”
“Of course, Miss. I’m most happy to oblige.” The man nodded, then called over his shoulder, “Frank, Luther, finish up with these crates, will you? And take care with those,” he added, pointing to three boxes stacked to one side and stenciled Fragile. “Those are the microscopes and slides.”
When the two laborers nodded and grunted, “Yessuh, Doc,” the man turned back to Mollie. “It just so happens I know of a very respectable establishment in the Grant Park district, Miss. I believe it might prove satisfactory to you. If you don’t mind riding in the wagon, I can take you to Miz Wheeler’s boarding house myself when we’ve finished loading, as it’s on my way back to the zoo. Or, if you prefer, I would be happy to escort you to a cab and give the driver instructions to take you there straightaway.”
Mollie worried her lower lip. She expected Dr. Avinger or his sister, Mrs. Gress, would have made arrangements for her lodging, and she might be confusing the matter even more by setting out on her own. However, daylight was waning, and clearly, no one was coming for her. Perhaps it would be best to seek shelter for the night, then try to sort things out in the morning. She could leave word in the depot office on the off chance anyone might still come looking for her that evening.
“Very well,” she said, adding, “That’s very kind, suh, and most appreciated. Mrs. Wheeler’s boarding house, near Grant Park, you say?”
“Yes’m,” the man nodded.
“All right, then. I-I’ll just go notify the depot master in case anyone inquires after me.” She turned away from him, then paused, turned back, and held out her hand. “Oh, do forgive me. I am a bit rattled, I fear. I am Miss Margaret Winters. My friends call me Mollie.”
The man nodded solemnly, taking her small hand carefully in his large one. “I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Winters. My name is Dr. Nicholas Avinger. Folks call me Doc, or Nick, if you like.”
Mollie froze. Her back stiffened, and abruptly she yanked her hand from the man’s gentle grip. “You?!” she sputtered. “You are Nicholas Avinger? Hector’s pup, suh! You … you have treated me shamefully, and I insist y’all explain yourself at once!”
CHAPTER 2
Nick stared in astonishment at the bit of a girl bristling in front of him like a bobcat rubbed the wrong way. Stray strands of glossy mahogany hair escaped from beneath the silly feathered hat perched atop her head, curling about her neck and cheeks. He could not tell her the color of her eyes behind the tinted lenses of her spectacles, but he imagined they might possibly be just as fiery red as her puffed-out cheeks.
“I … what … what did you say, Miss?” he stammered, and then words deserted him completely as she took a step toward him, her expression fierce and thoroughly scandalized. Reflexively, he took a defensive step backward.
“I said you have treated me shamefully, suh, leaving me sitting here…” She gestured wildly toward the depot bench behind her. “…thinking myself abandoned for hours! Why ever would you behave so … so ungallantly, Dr. Avinger?”
His confusion slowly turning to affront, Nick could come to no conclusion other than that the girl, bonny as she was, was almost certainly stark raving mad. But how did she know his name? He couldn’t recollect ever having set eyes on her before.
“Miss Winters,” he began, trying to remain calm, to find some firm footing in this bizarre situation. “I fear you’ve mistaken me for someone else, as I certainly don’t see how the situation in which y’all find yourself can possibly be any of my doing.”
“Ooh!” She blew out a disgusted huff of exasperation. Yanking open her small cloth purse, she fished out a folded piece of newsprint and shook it open. Thrusting it at him, she all but shoved the clipping in his face.
“This is you, suh, is it not?”
Nick stared at her a moment longer, then took the paper, reining in his temper just enough not to snatch it from her small, gloved hand. He read the piece, and Mollie could see his eyes widen into an expression even more dumbstruck than the one he’d worn when she’d first confronted him. Then, brows arrowing together in a darkening frown, his confusion slowly turned to tight-lipped indignation as he read the piece again.
Abruptly crumpling the clipping in his fist, the doctor turned without a word and strode back to the freight wagon. Stepping up onto a front wheel, he grabbed his coat from the driver’s bench, then climbed down, reached into his pocket, and extracted two coins. He walked to the back of the wagon where the two laborers were finishing securing crates in the cargo bed. He gave them quick instructions, then handed each a coin, which produced a flurry of grins, Much obliged, suhs, and hat-tipping.
“See to it that Billy and Milo are groomed and fed, too, will you?” Nick added, nodding at the hitched Percherons. “And be sure to get Mr. Thompson to sign off on those crates before you leave’em at the zoo barn, y’all hear now?”
The men nodded again with another round of “Yessuh,
Doc” and “Much obliged.” Finally, the doctor turned back to Mollie, who stood watching him with wide, uncertain eyes. He shrugged into his coat, shoved the crumpled clipping in his pocket, and reached down to pick up her small valise. Lifting it, he nearly lost his grip at the unexpected weight. Shifting his hold, he said, “What in blazes have you got in here, Miss Winters? Bricks?”
“Just some personal items, Doctor, and I’ll thank you to….”
Her words broke off in a small gasp as he grabbed her a little too firmly by the elbow.
“Forget about Miz Wheeler’s boarding house, Miss Winters,” he said, his tone little more than a snarl. “You’re coming with me, ma’am.”
Mollie stiffened, dug in her heels, pulled her arm from his grasp. “Now y’all wait just one minute, Dr. Avinger!” she protested, pressing a hand onto her feathered traveling hat to keep it perched on her head. “I’m most certainly not going anywhere with you until….”
He stopped, bent down to her, and she could see now that his eyes were a startling dark blue that seemed both hot and icy, all at once. “You wanted me to collect you from this here depot, didn’t you?” he said in an ominous growl.
“Well, I-I guess, that is, at first, yes, of course, but.…”
“Then consider yourself collected, Miss Winters,” he said, taking her elbow again, tugging her alongside him as she scrambled to keep pace with his determined stride. “Come on. We’re gonna go see a lady to see about a newspaper advertisement.”
Dusk had fallen and gas lamps were being lit along the tree-lined street when the hansom cab deposited Nick and Mollie at the Gress house. Nick tossed a coin to the driver, snapped, “Wait here,” and took Moliie’s elbow once more. Carrying her valise in one hand, clutching her arm with the other, he managed to slow his pace just enough to refrain from dragging her up the walk and stairs to the porch.
Without so much as knocking, he shoved open the front door and stormed inside, nearly crashing into Willie Mae.
“Mist’ Nick!” the older woman exclaimed, startled. “Lord a-mercy! Whatever is y’all doin’? Mind yo’ manners, suh!”
“Beg pardon, Miz Willie.” He tossed the words aside. “Miz Ida here?” Without waiting for Willie Mae to answer, he tugged Mollie down the hallway, past the parlor and into the dining room, hollering, “Ida! You home?”
Her round, pretty face a picture of both alarm and annoyance, Ida Gress rushed into the room from the kitchen. “For heaven’s sake, Nick! Whatever’s wrong? What are y’all thinking, yelling like a….”
She stopped dead at the sight of the young woman standing slightly behind Nick, still clutching her hat to her head and wide-eyed with what could only have been a sort of stunned and embarrassed horror.
“This lady,” Nick growled at his sister, “is one Miss Mollie Winters of Savannah.” He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out the tattered newspaper clipping and slapped it down on the dining room table. “Were you ever planning to mention her to me, sister dear?” He yanked his hat from his head, tossed it disgustedly onto a chair.
He turned to Mollie, and there was no mistaking his fury. His cheeks were burning with hectic color, and Mollie could clearly see the white line of the scar that slashed his face. Without taking his eyes from Mollie, he jabbed a finger in Ida’s direction.
“Miss Winters, this here is my sister, Mrs. George Gress. And despite her obvious misassumption, she most certainly does not speak for me.”
All color drained from Ida’s face, and she wrung her hands together. “Oh, dear! Oh, Nicholas,” she began in distress, then took a deep breath and turned from her brother to Mollie. “I-I’m so sorry, Miss Winters. I didn’t realize you were arriving today. I don’t know what to say, except that you … you are most welcome here, I’m sure. I… oh, dear….” She faltered, covered her mouth with her hand.
“Ida….” Nick snarled ominously, and his sister bit her lip.
Then, with a wobbly, apologetic smile at Mollie, she lowered her voice and said, “Nick, brother dear, please, could we … could we speak for just a moment? In private?”
Mollie would not have thought Dr. Avinger could look any more furious, but just then it seemed he could. His eyes blazed, fierce with anger. “Private?” he snapped at his sister in disbelief. “Private? Dammit, Ida, you plastered my name all over the …” He snatched up the clipping, scanned it again. “… the Godforsaken Grooms’ Gazette, for God’s sake, and now you’re blathering on about privacy?”
A little girl, her ringlets tied up in an enormous white bow, ran into the room and took shelter behind her mother’s skirt. “Uncle Nick?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Uncle Nick? Why are y’all yellin’ at Mama? Are you mad at us?”
“No, Marie,” Nick said through gritted teeth, trying to calm his temper. “I’m not mad at you. But your mama and I need to talk. Y’all go on and play, now. This has nothing to do with you, Maisy. Go on, now.”
At his harsh tone, Marie erupted into tears, clinging to her mother’s dress.
“Oh, Nicholas!” Ida said in despair. “Now look what you’ve done!” She leaned down to the child, loosened her fingers gently. “Lovey, why don’t y’all go on and play with that new set of jacks Papa bought you.”
Marie merely clung tighter. In desperation, Ida turned to Willie Mae for help. “Miz Willie, would you kindly….”
“Wait.” Mollie stepped forward. “Dr. Avinger, please take my valise back to the driver outside and give him directions to Mrs. Wheeler’s boarding house. Tell him I shall be out directly. First, however, there is something I must do.”
As Nick, Ida, and Willie Mae stared speechlessly at her, Mollie took a step toward Marie and crouched down in front of the tearful little girl.
“So y’all have jacks, do you, Miss Marie?” she asked. Surprised, Marie sniffled and nodded uncertainly. “Well, isn’t that absolutely bully. I am quite a whiz at jacks, you see.” Mollie held out her hand to the child. “My name is Miss Winters, and I would be very much obliged if y’all would play a round with me while your uncle speaks to the cab driver. First one of us to fivesies wins. So, what do you say?”
Hesitantly, the child nodded. Gingerly taking Mollie’s hand, she whispered, “Yes’m.”
“Very well, then.” Holding Marie’s hand, Mollie straightened and said to Nick and Ida, “I have no wish to be the cause of family dissent. I did send a letter, Mrs. Gress, to inform you of my arrival, but it is clear you did not receive it. Perhaps, however, it is just as well, for Dr. Avinger, you are clearly not at all pleased by my presence. As soon as Marie and I have finished our game, I shall take my leave, and neither of y’all need concern yourselves with me any further.”
Nick scowled harder, which Mollie would again have thought impossible. “Now wait just a minute, Miss Winters,” he growled. “My sister here has put you to no little trouble, and….”
“And y’all must stay here with us,” Ida blurted out, cutting her brother off, “until … well, until y’all decide what to do next. It is the least I can offer you for all the inconvenience I’ve caused, Miss Winters. My … my husband, George, will be home soon, and he will arrange for the rest of your possessions to be delivered here.”
Mollie shook her head. “Thank you, Mrs. Gress, but no. I’m very much obliged for your kind offer, but I have no other possessions, and I am no one’s responsibility but my own.” Looking down at Marie, she said, a little too heartily, “Now then, Miss Marie, let’s go give those jacks a whirl and see if I have finally met my match, shall we?”
CHAPTER 3
In her flannel nightgown and wrapper, Mollie sat cross-legged on the narrow bed in the tiny room she’d let at Mrs. Wheeler’s. Despite its miniscule size, the room was spotlessly clean and tastefully furnished, insofar as the bed, one washstand, the thinnest, narrowest armoire Mollie had ever seen, and one little wooden dresser obviously meant for a child’s room could be considered “furnishings.” The curtains and linens were freshly washed and pressed, howeve
r, and the room smelled of floor wax, Sunlight soap, and fresh air. Amazingly, there was a small, freestanding, coal-burning stove in one corner of the room, its stovepipe disappearing into the wall just below the ceiling.
And thankfully, the genial Mrs. Wheeler had not been miserly with the coal, filling both the belly of the stove and the coal scuttle beside it. Mollie’s room, small as it was, was blessedly warm and cozy.
Mollie tucked her bare feet beneath her with only the briefest of guilty twinges; Mama would certainly never have approved of such an unladylike posture. Nevertheless, Mollie felt comforted and protected as she snuggled in her wrap and blankets, as though the little bed were a calm and serene island in a storm-tossed sea.
Her valise stood open in front of her on the bed. She’d already arranged her one clean dress – Mrs. Wheeler had kindly offered to have Mollie’s traveling outfit cleaned and pressed the next day – as well as her small collection of undergarments in the armoire. “Arranged” was, in fact, more truthfully “crammed,” as even her very few garments threatened to burst the narrow wardrobe at its seams.
Her few toiletry items – comb, brush, mirror, and other small sundries – were neatly set out on the dresser next to a little lap desk she’d been delighted to find in one of the drawers. Mrs. Wheeler’s establishment boasted modern indoor plumbing, hot and cold running water for the sinks and bathtubs, and chain-flush toilets in the boarding house’s two pristine, white-tiled bathrooms, one on each floor. Mollie was very grateful for these conveniences and thought they handily made up for the monk’s-cell proportions of her room.
Despite the warmth and safety of the room, Mollie was overwhelmed by the uncertainty of her future. Returning to Savannah was out of the question; there was nothing there for her, and there had not been for some time. No matter how carefully she budgeted, though, her meager funds would not last long, and she was well and truly alone in a large, bustling, and unfamiliar city where she knew no one.
Mollie_Bride of Georgia Page 2