by Keli Gwyn
Natalie handed him a crystal punch cup. His fingers were way too big to fit them into the tiny handle, so he wrapped his fist around the whole cup instead. “Lots of folks here tonight.” A sip. Tart coolness slid down his throat.
Music started up and couples swung out onto the floor. A few dowdy matrons sat on benches along the balcony rails, and a few older men clustered at the far end of the loggia, smoking cigars. He was the only man over twenty and under forty in sight. The old biddies glared at him, especially Mrs. Gregory.
Caleb tried to cut her some slack. After all, she was a widow woman who had just sent her only son off to war. She had to be scared and probably mad at circumstances and life. For all he knew, she was maybe even mad at God. Lotta good that would do. Caleb had been known to get mad at God himself from time to time. Didn’t change anything, except to make himself miserable.
With a grimace he drained his cup and gave it back to Natalie.
Meghan sipped her punch, watching the dancers and only occasionally glancing up at him. What was wrong with him? He’d thought of not much else than being with her over the past month, and now, when he had the opportunity, he couldn’t think of a thing to say.
She set her cup on the table. “It’s so warm up here. Would you like to go down to the lobby? I know it isn’t much cooler, but the sound of the fountain always refreshes me. I think I’ve earned a break.”
The tightness in his chest relaxed as they made their way down the stairs and away from all the prying eyes. Concentrating on concealing his limp and thankful she wasn’t in a hurry, he even grew bold enough to put his hand on the small of her back—the same place her apron bow usually rested—to guide her through the deserted foyer to the edge of the fountain. Moonlight tinted everything bluish-white and cast deeper shadows under the balconies and loggia. Over their heads, the music drifted down like rain.
Water splashed from the marble tower in the middle of the pool and rippled the surface of the water. He skirted potted palms and ferns scattered around the edges of the open space and guided her past a row of empty wicker rocking chairs. White pillars stood at attention around them like silent sentinels. The only electric light came from wall sconces along the perimeter of the atrium, creating an almost magical mix of lamplight and starlight.
“It’s so peaceful here in the evenings. Though most nights I’m too tired to enjoy it. And Mrs. Gregory doesn’t really like to see us lounging in the public areas. She says the guests don’t pay good money to run into the hired help in the lobby.”
“She runs a pretty tight ship, doesn’t she?”
Meghan shrugged. “I suppose so, though from what I understand, that’s what the company requires. Everything here has a proper procedure, and it’s Mrs. Gregory’s job to see that we follow it. She has high expectations, and at first I thought they were impossible, but you know what? Now that I’ve been here for a few weeks, I find myself able to meet those expectations and standards without too much effort. And I love the work, especially serving the soldiers. They’re so brave and manly in their uniforms.”
He pressed his lips together and let his hand fall away from her back. Every conversation always seemed to wind its way back to the war. His gut tightened, and he shoved his hands into his trouser pockets.
She knelt and scooped up a handful of water, letting the droplets trickle through her fingers. “And they’re always so nice and full of fun. It’s heartbreaking to think that some of them won’t be coming home. That’s why we must do all we can, like tonight’s appeal for funds, to see that our soldiers have the best of everything. That’s why I’m working on a project, a rather ambitious project, to raise one thousand dollars to purchase an ambulance to send to Europe to help our boys. I know it’s a lot to take on, but after hearing the speech that Mr. Gibson from the Red Cross gave, and knowing how badly our soldiers need help, I couldn’t do any less.” She was so eager and innocent. How soon before she realized that life couldn’t be conquered just because you wanted to conquer it? Someone needed to educate her before she got hurt.
“A thousand dollars? Where are you going to get that kind of money? I’d be surprised if tonight’s dance netted you more than twenty-five after you take out the money for the refreshments and such.” No one in their right mind would try to raise that kind of money, not here in Needles where most folks made less than a thousand dollars in a whole year.
“Oh, I expect to see it accomplished. The cause is too great for me to fail, and anyway, I gave my word.” She linked her arm through his and did a happy little hop. “Mrs. Gregory is going to be so surprised. And Mr. Gibson. He came to the organizational meeting to get us all started on service projects, and he’ll be back in a few months to see how we’ve done. Everyone chose a project and how much they thought they could raise.”
“And you put yourself down for a thousand dollars. What are you going to sell to raise that? The Statue of Liberty?” He jerked his thumb at a war poster someone had fastened to one of the columns. Lady Liberty stood with outstretched hands, imploring America to send her sons to protect her and her Allies. The words came out harsher than he had meant, and she let her hand fall away from his arm.
Those incredible eyes blinked, and her arched brows drew together in puzzlement. “No, nothing like that. I’m making a quilt. A Red Cross signature quilt, and I’ll sell space for folks to have their name embroidered on it.”
“That’s crazy. Who would want to pay to have their name put on a blanket?” The notion baffled him.
Her spine stiffened, and her chin came up. “Patriotic Americans, that’s who. People who realize what an honor it is to sacrifice a little of our comfort here so that those men fighting for our freedoms, who have sacrificed much more than we ever could, can have proper medical treatment, food, and clothing. I’m not trying to squeeze Needles to death. I have a plan to go door-to-door in the neighborhoods, visit all the local businesses, and I got permission to have a donation jar on the front desk. That way travelers who are so inclined can donate and print their name on one of the slips I’ll leave there. Dozens of people come through here every day, people with enough money to travel. Surely some will contribute. Not all the money has to come from the citizens of Needles. I’ve thought it all out. I’m not stupid, you know.” Her voice vibrated with fervor, and her green eyes glowed with the conviction of her cause. He couldn’t help but notice her beauty as she stood before him all zealous and eager in the starlight.
“Someone ought to take your photograph like that. Or paint you for a recruitment poster. You’d sell a million war bonds and have soldiers enlisting in droves.”
Relaxing, she gave him a soft tap on the arm. “Don’t be silly. Not with this red hair and freckles. I’m no great American beauty, not like Natalie.” A touch of something wistful crept into her voice. As if she knew without a doubt the truth of her words and longed to be different.
His voice went gruff on him. “Natalie’s all right, but she’s not to every man’s taste. Some men like fiery redheads who believe in things so strongly they can almost stir a dedicated cynic to action.”
She raised luminous eyes to him, and he found himself stepping closer, drawn to her fire and innocent, untouched air. Her sweet lips parted, and a slight breeze fluttered the lace on the neckline of her dress. His fingers found hers, entwining, slowly drawing her closer. Time seemed to stand still as he drowned in her eyes, in her goodness, drawn to her fire and courage. He had a feeling this girl held the power to heal some of the broken places in his heart, the starved, atrophied, dead places he’d locked away.
Her breath came in shallow gasps, as if she, too, were caught in a maelstrom of unfamiliar feelings. It was all so sudden, and she was so sweet and passionate and fresh. He wanted to crush her to him, to stave off the loneliness that stalked him.
It had been so long since he’d allowed himself to feel anything but anger and shame. Even longer since he’d let himself care how someone else thought of him. Warning bells clanged in
his head as his mouth went dry. She wore a beguiling perfume that wrapped around him, muffling the doubts. The last time he’d let his defenses down, had allowed someone into his heart, she’d used that power to crush him. And here he was on the verge of making the same mistake again.
He drew her nearer. His lips hovered over hers, a mere breath away. She wasn’t resisting, but then again, she was so innocent, she probably didn’t know of the raging hunger sweeping over him, the need to kiss her and see if she tasted as sweet as she looked. The warning bells got louder. He had to stop before he got hurt, or before he was so deeply ensnared he couldn’t escape.
“What on earth are you doing?” Mrs. Gregory’s scalded-cat screech jerked them apart. “Miss Thorson.” Like an avenging angel, the head waitress strode across the courtyard, hands fisted at her sides.
Meghan backed away from him a couple of steps. “Mrs. Gregory, I—we—”
“Your behavior is scandalous. Bad enough for you to be caught dallying with a man right in the hotel, but this man!” She raised her bony forefinger to pierce the air before Caleb’s nose. “I won’t stand for it. If you want to keep your job, Miss Thorson, you’ll get yourself upstairs to that dance this instant.” Cold, terrible wrath poured from her eyes.
“We weren’t doing anything wrong. Is it wrong to get a little air? We’re here in plain sight. We were talking about raising money for the Red Cross. Mr. McBride is very interested in helping out the war effort in any way he can, I’m sure. Why else would he come to the dance?”
Her defensive tone hurt Caleb. Why should she have to explain herself to a woman who deserved no explanation? He winced when she invoked the name of the Red Cross, which she seemed to hold sacred.
Mrs. Gregory snorted. “Why indeed? He’s shown not the slightest interest in the war or our efforts until now. In fact, until you arrived in Needles, he never came to the hotel, not even to eat. He’s like a stray dog slinking around. A yellow-bellied cur at that. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop encouraging him. It’s disgraceful, and I won’t have it. Get yourself upstairs now. And when this dance is finished, you and I are going to have a frank discussion about your behavior and your choice of companions.”
Caleb stepped between her and Meghan. “Mrs. Gregory, nothing happened. If you want to be angry, be angry with me, not Meghan.”
“Don’t tell me what to do. I am constantly reminding Meghan not to be too familiar with the young male customers. I should’ve known it from the first day she arrived. This is the second time I’ve found the two of you in a rather compromising situation. The first could’ve been explained away as an accident, but there is nothing accidental about this.” She flicked her hand at them. “You, Miss Thorson, are supposed to be upstairs earning money for the Red Cross. Not only are you in violation of the conduct rules for a Harvey Girl, you are stealing from the war effort by your absence at the dance.”
Meghan’s reddened face paled, and her eyes widened.
“I paid for a dance, Mrs. Gregory,” Caleb cut in.
“That may be, however, three dances have come and gone since you two scuttled off.”
Taking a deep breath to keep from saying something he would regret, something that might make the situation worse for Meghan, Caleb stepped back. “Mrs. Gregory, I apologize for your distress, though there is no need to take your ire at me out on Meghan. She isn’t at fault here.” He dug in his pocket and withdrew a dollar. “Here you go, Meghan. Put that in the kitty. It will more than cover the time you spent with me.”
He had to press the folded bill into her palm. “Go on upstairs. And thank you for telling me about your project. I’m sure it will be a success.” A harrumph from Mrs. Gregory. “We don’t need money from the likes of you, Mr. McBride. The Red Cross in Needles will not take a coward’s cash. You won’t assuage your conscience in this manner, or for so paltry a sum. I may not be able to ban you from this hotel, but I can make sure you stay away from my girls. I won’t have their reputations sullied, not by your amorous advances nor by being associated with a yellow coward like you.”
Meghan stood frozen, her expression shifting from guilt to confusion. Soon the confusion would give way to disgust, the same disgust dripping from Mrs. Gregory’s every word once Meghan had a talk with the head waitress. A sense of fatalism gripped him. Why even bother to fight back, to declare he wasn’t evading military service? She’d only ask why he didn’t enlist, and he’d rather be boiled in oil than ever let Mrs. Gregory know of his leg. He’d been a first-class fool to come here, to think that anything had or would change. In the eyes of this town, he was and always would be a coward.
Meghan climbed the stairs to the party and dropped the well-creased dollar into the collection box. Natalie drew her behind the refreshment table, her pale blue eyes full of questions.
“Where did you get off to? Mrs. Gregory is searching for you, and she looks fierce.”
“I know. She found me.” Meghan couldn’t keep the tremor out of her voice. She’d just come within a small cat’s whisker of kissing Caleb McBride.
“What happened? Where were you?”
“Downstairs in the courtyard by the fountain.”
Natalie searched Meghan’s face and jumped to the correct conclusion. “And you weren’t alone, were you? You went down there with Mr. McBride. Meghan, what were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t thinking. But nothing happened. We just walked a little and talked. It’s not illegal to talk to someone, is it?”
Mrs. Gregory emerged at the top of the stairs. Her piercing eyes found Meghan, but she was prevented from marching over as someone stopped her to talk. The current waltz ended, and the band began to pack their instruments. A smattering of applause rippled from the guests, and several of the musicians bowed and nodded. The dancers seemed loath to leave, however, and they lingered in little groups, visited the punch table one last time, and strolled under the colorful lights.
Filling yet another punch cup, Natalie handed it across the table. She kept her voice low. “It isn’t illegal to talk to someone, but it is risky, especially the likes of Mr. McBride. After you left, Mr. Weeks and his wife mentioned to me that Mr. McBride isn’t well thought of here in town. Some folks say he’s a coward who won’t enlist. They say he’s making a mint off the war by selling horses to the army. What kind of a man would try to make a profit off a war he’s too afraid to fight in? Everyone’s shocked to see him here at all. He usually stays away from town, and he never accepts hospitality, not that it sounds like anyone’s offering him any these days. Folks say he’s a recluse.”
The need to defend him coursed through Meghan. “He’s not like that. Surely he has an exemption to the draft, since he’s in agriculture? He works for the army.”
Natalie shook her head. “Mr. Weeks says since he doesn’t grow crops or raise animals for food, he shouldn’t be exempt. And lots of men enlist anyway, even if they could claim an exemption.”
“Girls.”
Meghan jumped as Mrs. Gregory’s hand came down on her shoulder. “I can see, Miss Daviot, that you are filling Miss Thorson in on a few facts. You would do well to heed her warnings, Miss Thorson. Mr. McBride is not a suitable companion for any young lady, much less a Harvey Girl. You mustn’t allow your head to be turned. Caleb McBride is a coward and an opportunist. He allows others to fight for his freedom while at the same time pocketing a profit at their expense. Surely you don’t want to be linked with such a man?”
Meghan’s cheeks grew hot as she realized that several party-goers had stopped talking to listen in. Heads nodded and tilted toward one another, and a couple of hands went up to shield whispers.
“Of course you wouldn’t,” Mrs. Gregory answered for her. “You may not appreciate it just now, but I truly do have your best interests at heart.”
Chapter 7
Meghan called at the front desk for her mail and Natalie’s. “Here you are, Miss.” The desk clerk’s gray moustache twitched. “Something to enjoy
on your afternoon off?”
She scanned the envelopes. One from Mama, and a small, square envelope addressed to her in a hand she didn’t know. For Natalie, a nice thick one from Indiana.
“Thank you, Mr. Johns.” Flashing him a quick smile, she headed out the main doors to the park in front of the hotel where Natalie was already spreading a blanket under one of the trees. A picnic basket rested beside the trunk, and Meghan anticipated a quiet afternoon of reading and not thinking about work. The thin shade cast by the trees in Santa Fe Park did little to lower the heat, but at least today there was a breeze. Short of going downstairs to sit in the walk-in refrigerator—something Mrs. Gregory forbid the girls to do, more’s the pity—the park was the coolest place they could find to spend their afternoon off.
Natalie eased down onto the blanket and looked up when Meghan arrived. “Anything?”
“Here you go.” She tossed the letter. “It’s a fat one, too.”
Settling herself, Meghan slit open the letter from Mama, eager for news from home. She could almost hear Mama’s Irish lilt as a blanket of homesickness settled around her shoulders.
Your papa is forever polishing that motorcar. He takes any excuse to get it out onto the road. The Ladies’ Aid purchased a knitting machine to assist in making stockings and hats for our soldiers. It works fairly well,
I suppose, but I prefer my old knitting needles.
Word of the Ladies’ Aid reminded Meghan that she needed to get busy on her quilt. Over the last three weeks, she’d managed the cutting and begun the piecing, but she still needed folks to donate to get their names on the quilt. A lot of folks.
She finished Mama’s letter and unfolded the brief note she’d included from Lars. She glanced at the date. Written almost six weeks ago.
Hey, Megsie, The familiar term made her throat tighten. Nobody but Lars called her Megsie.
Ma tells me you’ve moved out west and taken a job in a hotel. You’re a Harvey Girl? Don’t they have a lot of rules? How are you holding up? Remember when you took it upon yourself to campaign for class president, even though the teacher said you couldn’t since you were a girl? Bless me if you didn’t convince her to change the rules and then went out and won that election. You never were one for following the crowd. I figured you’d have taken over the Ladies’ Aid or the Red Cross by now. I can’t imagine you handing out menus and filling coffee cups. You’re too much of a crusader. I’m surprised General Pershing hasn’t knocked on your door and asked you to run the Expeditionary Forces for him. I’ve been telling my buddies here that if they’d just put you in charge of the War Department, we’d all be home by Mother’s Day.