From the top of the stairs she could see them waiting below. Andrew and Powell were talking until Powell glanced up toward Allison from beneath heavy eyelids, then turned toward Andrew and pretended to listen to him opine about the best trout fishing spots. Allison wondered how much sport was involved when the water was stocked with fish, but she said nothing. It was simply one more aspect of men that lacked logic.
She hesitated at the top of the stairs before she took a step down and held onto the banister.
Noticing her movement in the periphery, Andrew glanced up as he finished a sentence. "There she is!" He flashed a grin Allison's way, but she did not to return it.
She stood shielding her brow. "I'm so sorry to keep you waiting. I--it's a headache. I'm really not up to a boat ride just now. If you'll excuse me." Allison turned and took a step up.
"We'll miss you," said Powell.
Allison paused without turning, and then continued toward her room.
Powell looked intensely in Allison's direction, but said nothing more.
She closed the door with care. Back inside her room, Allison walked over to the window and leaned against the frame, gazing outside. People continued to busy themselves with the tasks of the day, but in her heart, Allison hovered apart from her surroundings, removed from time.
"He is my life," she thought. She closed her eyes but could not keep out the world.
She took a seat at her bureau and pulled from the drawer the letter she had not finished reading.
If it only were possible, I would shield you from what lies ahead. Can love be enough? You see, there is my struggle. Does my love bring you happiness? I can see that it does. But will my love bring you sorrow? It will. I am certain.
And so, there it is. Our love is destined to tear apart those we love, and inflame those we do not. And here we will be in its midst, and I'll see in your face the burden of having been scorned. My love, how can I do that to you?
Your D
Allison's face was flushed and moist with tears. She returned the paper to its envelope and placed it on the small stack of letters. Then tenderly, she wrapped the ribbon across the width, then the length of the letters and tied them together. After the letters were safely in place under the floorboard, she opened her answering letter and read it one last time, before delivering it.
D,
It is true, I am happy. Please do not worry that your love would cause pain. Yes, there are those who would scorn us, but they do not have the power to change how we feel.
With you, I will face what lies ahead, and love will prevail. For now, we will keep our hearts secret and safe. When the time arrives to come out of hiding, we will be strong. Together nothing will part us.
Until such a day, I am yours,
A
With her letter tucked inside her sleeve, Allison walked out of her room and down the stairs. The house was empty, except for the servants. She looked about carefully, and then walked up toward the road. On the far side of the carriage house, where no one would see her, Allison walked along the edge until she reached a window. She pulled on it gently until it opened a crack. Then she slid the letter in and listened for it to drop. From behind her she heard a slight rustle of leaves, but when she turned around nothing was there. A squirrel could have made such a sound. Nevertheless, she took a different route back, around the back of the outhouse and emerged from behind it to walk into the cottage.
Chapter 9
Andrew, Allison and Samuel rode toward the dam in a surrey. While Andrew slumped with his hat shielding his face, and the remnants of a hangover, from the brilliant sunshine, Allison looked at the foliage, and Samuel studied the dam. "I never noticed before. Has it always sagged in the middle like that?"
"Speak for yourself. I'm fit as a fiddle!" Andrew said through his hat.
"I'm talking about the dam," Samuel said, with a sideways glance.
Andrew laughed boyishly, and removed his hat so he could look back and see for himself. "Maybe they designed it that way when they built the road over the dam."
"Why would they do that?" said Samuel, disapproving. "It makes no sense."
"Oh, I don't know. But I wouldn't worry--as long as we're at the top," said Andrew, with a flippant laugh.
Allison shook her head at her brother. "That's our Andrew. Always thinking of everyone else."
They neared the club, which was decorated for the next day's July 4th celebration.
"The flags look spectacular," said Allison. "Don't you love Independence Day?"
"Not especially," answered Samuel.
His remark caught her off guard. She waited for an explanation, which was not immediately forthcoming.
Eventually Samuel succumbed to her quizzical stare. "Independence Day didn't do all that much for my people."
"As a country, we do tend to forget that 'All men are created equal.'" asked Andrew.
"Interesting rhetoric, since it was written by a slave owner," Samuel replied.
"And women were left out entirely," said Allison.
"Women were implied," said Andrew.
"Unfortunately our vote wasn't." she countered.
He eyed her mischievously, and said, "You shouldn't worry your pretty head with such matters. Leave that to the men."
"What?" She looked as though she might strike him. She'd been well-schooled by her suffragette mother.
"Whoa!" said Andrew, laughing and ducking. "I'm joking!"
Allison leveled a disapproving look and said, "First of all, that could not have been a joke. Jokes are funny. That wasn't. And second, I can't begin to tell you how I adore being addressed in equestrian terms."
Andrew pulled his hat back over his face. "My headache and I are going back under here, where it's safe."
Allison looked out over the lake, which truly was inviting. The late afternoon sun dipped down to touch the top of the mountain, then cast its shimmering light across overlapping ripples of water.
"You can hide now," said Allison, "but the only way you can redeem yourself is by taking us out in the boat to watch the sunset."
Still shielded by his hat, Andrew pulled his white handkerchief from his pocket and waved it in surrender.
He sat upright. "I can't. I just remembered, I'm going to--"
"--see Maggie," said Allison with childish nodding.
Andrew looked at Samuel expectantly. "How about it, Samuel? Why don't you take Allison on your nightly row around the lake? You'll get more exercise with the added weight."
"Why, thank you, Andrew. But I'd hate to overburden Samuel with my 'added weight!'"
"Oh Samuel can take it? Can't you, old man? Why, just look at those muscles," said Andrew as he grabbed Samuel's biceps.
Swatting away Andrew's hand, Samuel turned to Allison and said gallantly, "It would be my pleasure to take you on a boat ride this evening."
"Thank you, Samuel," she said with abundant courtesy, which was followed by a mock scowl toward Andrew.
The surrey came to a stop. Andrew offered Allison his hand to help her step down.
Samuel led the horses into the stable and called back, "I'll need a few minutes to change."
Allison called after him, "I didn't expect you to row in your traveling clothes."
He said, "I'll meet you at the boathouse in twenty minutes."
The gray shadow of a man loomed in the dusk as the boat pulled in to dock.
Allison called out, "Andrew?"
A voice from the shadow replied, "No, it's Powell."
"Mr. Sutton? When did you get here?" asked Allison.
Powell caught the rope Samuel tossed and tied the boat to the dock. "A little while ago. I came up with your parents."
"Oh?" Allison asked, looking about for them.
"They're inside. I came out to escort you back."
"That's very kind of you, but you can see Samuel's here."
Powell's eyes grew narrow and hard. "Yes, I know. But I thought it might be more seemly if I--"
"How lovely for me. I'll have two escorts." Allison's liquid voice exuded graciousness as she cast a warm glance toward Samuel.
Samuel's face, still as stone, exuded loathing which, had Powell condescended to look, would have scalded. With measured civility, Samuel spoke. "I'll just be a minute."
"It's awfully chilly out here. I'd better take Allison inside." Powell offered his arm to Allison. She exchanged looks with Samuel, and then reluctantly accepted. Powell walked her up the walk to the cottage. Although he was attentive, they spoke very little.
Samuel stood in the damp evening air and watched to make sure Allison did, indeed, arrive at the house. It was not in his nature to despise someone so easily, but Powell had earned an exception. His fist tightened as he imagined how easy it would be to land it on Powell's self-serving mug."
When the pair reached the first set of steps, Powell stopped.
"Allison?" He stood blocking her way.
"Yes?" The setting sun shone through tree branches and cast shadows on Powell's face.
"Allison, may I speak with you?" There was something unnerving in the sound of his voice as he spoke her name.
"Well, of course. But let's go inside. It's chilly out here." She tried to sidestep her way around him, but he countered.
"No." His voice had a harsh edge, which he softened. "Don't go."
Allison tried to smile but her forehead remained creased. She inched nervously away until she felt the edge of the stone step beneath her heel.
Powell's speech was stilted. "As you know, Edmund was my best friend."
The invocation of her deceased husband's name conjured unexpected emotions, which unnerved Allison. She looked about, wishing for an escape. Powell had, indeed, been Edmund's friend, never hers. His present attention was unwanted. His manner was disconcerting. "Yes, I know he thought highly of you," she said.
"It's been three years since Edmund died."
Allison gave a slight nod, but said nothing, but looked down at her hands and tried to suppress a sick feeling.
"God knows I've been patient, but--well, you must know how I feel about you."
Perhaps she had suspected there were feelings, but none he would have dared acted upon--not like this. She shook her head slowly and took a step back, but her heel slipped down from the step to the boardwalk and she lost her balance. Powell reached out to steady her, as anyone would have done, but the gesture outlasted its helpfulness.
"Mr. Sutton." She cringed and timidly extracted her arm from his grasp.
He released her as words came out in broken rasps. "Forgive me but, you're so beautiful, I--"
He stepped closer and, with an assiduous display of respect, carefully reached for Allison's hand, but she gently moved it out of reach.
"Please, Allison..."
She inched back, keeping her hands clenched at her sides.
His voice took on an urgent tone as he clutched her hands. "Tell me you don't get lonely."
"No, I don't."
"Edmund would have wanted us to be together."
A deep voice resounded, "Edmund isn't in a position to choose." Samuel took an imposing but gentlemanly stance beside Allison.
She said, "I think it's time we all went inside." She slipped her arm into Samuel's and felt his tensed biceps.
Powell's eyes narrowed with unexpressed vehemence. Samuel suppressed his own glare and gestured toward the cottage door with labored civility. "Shall we?"
Powell's eyes darted from one to the other. They met his contempt with grace and immense self-control. Powell fumed for a moment, then turned and stormed through the door.
Allison relaxed her grip on Samuel's arm.
Still staring toward the departing Powell, Samuel said, "It'll be alright."
"When?"
They stood at the threshold and observed the people inside. Powell now laughed and chatted with her parents, who adored him as they had her husband. And why shouldn't they? He was the picture of a well-bred gentleman.
The fourth of July brought more than a holiday. It was Maggie's first visit to the lake. She soon lost herself in a blur of pastel frocks and parasols, linen suits, lemonade, croquet and sailing.
"You see that man over there?" Andrew nodded discreetly.
"The short one?"
"Henry Phipps. What he lacks in height, he makes up for in money."
"And the man approaching him--that's Henry Clay Frick."
"He appears rather stoical."
"Oh, I don't know about that. Severe, yes. Ruthless perhaps."
As two men approached Mr. Frick, the younger said something, softly, and then the three of them laughed.
"That's Judge Mellon, with his son, Andrew. If there's business in Pittsburgh, you can bet that they know about it, and--if it shows any promise--they most likely have money in it."
They walked along the boardwalk and nearly stepped in front of a friend of Andrew's who was taking a photograph with his new Kodak camera.
"I'm so sorry," said Maggie. The amiable photographer offered to take the Andrew and Maggie's picture together.
"I'd like a copy of that. When will it be ready to see, Mr. Wakefield?" Andrew asked.
"It depends on the mail."
Andrew looked puzzled.
"This Detective camera uses a new kind of film. It's flexible--comes on a roll. When I've used all the film, I just send it to Rochester, and they'll mail the finished photographs back to you."
"Really?" said Andrew.
The men nodded in amazement. They surely did live in a marvelous time. As they continued to stroll, Maggie was awed. From far away, she had observed such gatherings, but now here she was, as if she had stepped inside a picture she had never believed could be real.
Maggie, Andrew, and a gray bearded gentleman stood looking out across the lake from the boardwalk. The gentleman said, "How do you like our mountain, Miss MacLaren?"
"We, in the valley, like to think of it as our mountain, sir," said Maggie.
He regarded her with a smile. "Yes, but we hold the deed."
Maggie smiled back and said, "Then, in deed, it is yours."
"Andrew, you'd do best to keep on your toes with this lass. She's too clever for you."
"Miss MacLaren is the librarian of the Johnstown Library."
"Ah, now that's noble work."
"Thank you, Mr. Carnegie. But it pales in comparison to what you have done. I shudder to think how many towns and cities would be without libraries but for your generosity."
"Well, I've worked hard to make money. It's now my pleasant duty to work just as hard to give it away."
In the late afternoon, Andrew took Maggie sailing. It was her first time, and very different from what she'd imagined. It had always looked so quiet and effortless, but she had not anticipated how loudly the wind caught the canvas. She watched Andrew handle the boat masterfully and her heart swelled with pride to be with him here, in this place. Both the sailing and Andrew exhilarated her. He turned and, catching her staring, smiled back with a row of white teeth and his light bronze hair bright in the sun. The moment was brief, but she would always remember that look.
The event of the evening was a Promenade Concert at the club, which Maggie discovered was not altogether different from any other dance. She was dressed more simply than most, yet she managed to garner admiring glances from several men present. She enjoyed the attention, but when Andrew looked at her, the world stopped. It was so different from anything she had experienced before. Jake looked at her and saw who she really was, but in Andrew's eyes she was more. He adored her. And with Andrew she could go places where she never had been, and see a life she never had seen. For Andrew viewed the world with the boldness of one who had never faced challenges.
The song ended and they left the dance floor.
"You and Maggie dance wonderfully together," said Allison, standing before them like a vision with her auburn hair against a cream colored dress. After nearly three years, Allison had finally put away her wido
w's weeds.
"And look at you," said Andrew.
"I can't mourn forever, can I?"
"Welcome back," said Andrew as he took her hand and held it in both of his for a moment. Their parents had begun to worry about the length of Allison's mourning, which she had prolonged far beyond what was customary.
Music continued to fill the night air as Andrew and Maggie left the dance to stroll idly alongside the lake. Lillian Adair stood beside her husband and watched.
"That girl is in love," she said, without taking her eyes from the pair.
Charles Adair cast a cursory glance toward the couple. "She's a pretty girl. Unsuitable, but really quite pretty. It's no wonder he wants to spend time with her."
"You don't suppose he's serious about her, do you?"
"Andrew? No. He's just enjoying a little flirtation before he settles down to a proper match."
"I suppose you're right," but she continued to watch them.
Maggie and Andrew walked until the music grew faint and the party lights blurred.
Maggie broke the silence. "You can see the stars in the lake. It's like glass, it's so still."
Andrew viewed the wonder in Maggie's eyes through the yearning in his. The sky exploded in a spray of fireworks reflecting on the water with distorted shimmers. From the nearby club, muted unison moans of delight followed each eruption like thunder after lightening. Andrew stood behind Maggie with his hands on her shoulders, watching. Each burst of color took her breath. She leaned back into Andrew's chest. He held her shoulders, and then lowered his hands along her arms until his arms surrounded her waist and his hands covered her fingers. Their world became small, and they were the center. The sky exploding with color made it enchanted. His mouth grazed her cheek, and came to rest against her neck. With a shudder, she tilted her head toward him with an imperceptible gasp. Andrew whirled her around, but Maggie's world was already spinning. Her heart was near bursting. Andrew's mouth was on hers as his hands lightly slid from her hair down her neck to her shoulder. Colors and sounds filled the air as the thrill of his kiss spread through her body.
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