Watermarks

by Jarvis, J. L.

  "And now, Mr. Wakefield, I think we must be on our way, or we shall be late."

  Mr. Wakefield turned to Beth. "Please excuse us, but I must return Miss Cassatt to her hosts at South Fork in time for dinner."

  "I understand. Thank you so for everything you've done, Mr. Wakefield. And, Miss Cassatt, I shall treasure this portrait. You have such a gift."

  "And you, Mrs. Garvey, have two gifts. Treasure them both."

  A sunny day found Maggie at work. She lifted her head and smiled as Jake walked in. If there was anyone else in the building, these two did not know it. He grinned as he walked to the library desk.

  "The library doesn't close for another hour," she said.

  "I'll wait, he said with a boyish gleam."

  She said in her librarian voice, "Sir, I believe we have something over here you might like." She looked up from under her lashes with mischief in her eyes and ducked down behind the counter.

  Jake glanced about and saw no one in sight, so he went around to the other side of the desk, and looked down at Maggie with perplexed amusement.

  "What?"

  Jake dropped from view, as Maggie gave a sharp tug and pulled him down behind the library desk.

  "Maggie MacLaren, you hussy!"

  "Sh--quiet!" Her eyes were twinkling with suppressed laughter as she grabbed his shirt collar with both hands and pulled him into a kiss.

  A full minute later Jake emerged from behind the desk with a nonchalant nod to an elderly woman of prune-ish demeanor who was nearing the desk. Maggie stood up, brandishing a book she pretended just to have found, and stole a quick sideways glance at Jake before she returned to her work with a blush on her face.

  Jake lingered between the shelves, casually thumbing through books while he stole furtive glances toward Maggie, who did her best to appear absorbed in her work as she stamped books and nodded to the library patron. The books sat stacked and ready to go long before the woman finished chattering. Maggie listened politely with diminishing patience. She began straightening things, filing cards, notes, shifting books from here to there until the woman paused to take a breath.

  "I really must let you go," said Maggie.

  "Oh, that's alright--"

  "Does it still look like rain out there?"

  Maggie walked over to the door and stepped outside. "Oh, no. It's brightened up. Lovely day for a walk." She bade the woman a cordial, if hasty, goodbye, and closed the door between them. The key clicked in the latch.

  As she walked back toward the desk, Maggie looked around for Jake in the quiet, empty library, but he was nowhere to be seen. Calling his name, she walked between the rows of books. When she reached the wall, there he was in the remotest corner, leaning, arms folded.

  That grin. She walked toward him until she was close enough to touch him. Jake first looked about to make sure no one could see, then he slipped his arm around Maggie's waist and spun her around and against the wall and kissed her until her arms--and nearly her knees--went limp. He leaned against her and held her. With a deep and fervent sigh he pulled his lips from hers and leaned both hands against the wall behind her. His breathing was unsteady and warm. For a time, all Maggie heard was the rhythm of Jake's slowing breath and her own beating heart.

  "Maggie," he said, his voice so deep it made her yearn. "I waited for you for so long."

  "It's my fault we've lost so much time."

  Jake covered her mouth with his fingers, and then replaced them with a deep kiss. Maggie's feelings rushed out of control. She couldn't help herself. "I don't want to waste any more time."

  "Neither do I." His mouth found places to kiss that made her heart pulsate.

  Maggie said, "I want--" She stopped. "I don't know what I'm saying."

  Jake whispered, "I want you, too," between breathless kisses.

  "But...," A look of dismay came over Maggie. "I want more--"

  "So do I," he said, sliding his hands up from her waist.

  With a deep breath, Maggie pressed him away to arm's length.

  "Maggie," Jake cajoled, as he wrapped his arms about her waist and pulled her closer. But she resisted. He stopped and looked at her. "What is it? What's wrong?"

  "Nothing."

  But he knew her too well. He said, "Oh," as though he had accepted her answer.

  Maggie did not do a good job of hiding her feelings. Something was bothering her, but Jake knew better than to try to pry it out of her. If he pressed her, Maggie would dig her heels in and refuse to open up. Instead, he touched his lips to her hair, then her forehead, and made a trail to her mouth with light kisses. He heard her breath quicken. Her lips parted. He was prepared to plant a deep head-swimming kiss, when she spoke.

  "Jake, if you don't marry me I'll--"

  "You'll what? No! Don't say it. I don't want to know!"

  Her jaw dropped. "Well...what does that mean?" Maggie exhaled a peevish breath.

  Jake's mouth spread into a brash smile. "It means," he looked at her, shaking his head, "That you're a piece of work, Miss Maggie MacLaren."

  A worried frown formed as Maggie tried to decipher his meaning.

  Jake paused, with a frown of his own. "Miss MacLaren."

  With impatience, she said, "What?"

  "Nothing. I just like the sound of it." He shook his head slowly as he mulled something over. "Miss MacLaren."

  Close to tears now, Maggie refused to look at him anymore.

  Still looking displeased, Jake said, "I'm sorry Maggie, but on second thought, I really prefer the sound of Mrs. O'Neill."

  Her eyes flashed to meet his. His broad smile left no doubt. A warm look filled his eyes. "Could you get used to it? Mrs. O'Neill?"

  Maggie's eyes could have lit the sky. She threw her arms around Jake's neck and they laughed as he lifted and swung her around. Then he touched her feet back to the ground, and they kissed.

  Chapter 22

  Beth and Robin walked along toward the iron works with picnic baskets in hand. It was Hank's birthday. They planned to surprise him with a picnic dinner in the park. As they walked, Robin chattered, so full of childish excitement that she could not contain. Beth was every bit the attentive listener as Robin hesitated now and again to search for words to complete her story. Beth's eyes were on Robin when a gentleman walked out of a shop and turned to collide face to face with Beth. Her basket spun from her grip to the ground.

  "I'm so sorry," he said as he stooped to retrieve the strewn items.

  Beth knelt to retrieve her basket, while he hastily retrieved scattered items with manicured hands.

  "That's alright." She said, looking up.

  He turned toward her, his hands full, and looked up.

  "Mrs. Garvey!"

  Her heart rose to her throat. "Mr. Wakefield! Good afternoon."

  The moment stretched out as they knelt facing each other, not speaking or moving to stand. The sound of muted thunder rumbled in the distance. That and the passing pedestrians startled them into action.

  "Oh, here, let me." His hand grazed hers as he relieved her of the basket. He offered his hand to help her to her feet.

  "Well, I--"

  "Please."

  She took hold of his hand, and then with his other hand supported her elbow as she rose to her feet. Robin slipped her hand into the basket and broke off a piece of cookie which, thus exposed, had begged to be eaten. Beth did not notice.

  "I hope I haven't ruined your picnic." He lifted the basket from the ground where he'd left it while helping her up.

  "No, no. It's--everything's fine, I'm sure." Beth tried to smile.

  "Your basket's quite heavy. At least let me ease your burden. How far have you to walk?"

  "To the Iron Works."

  Mr. Wakefield stared intently, causing Beth to suppose he was puzzled, so she hastened to clarify. "I'm meeting my husband for a picnic dinner."

  Mr. Wakefield nodded thoughtfully and, without waiting for permission, began walking beside Beth.

  Beth smiled at hi
m, and then looked straight ahead. "I don't know where I'd be if you hadn't helped me that day."

  "Well, I was glad to help. You're feeling better now?"

  She smiled. "Yes. Very well, thank you. Didn't you say you're a doctor?"

  "Oh. No. I began to train as one, but I had no affinity for it."

  "Oh, I see."

  Ahead, a few workers walked home from the mill. Beth stopped quite a ways short of the mill. "Here we are. Thank you, Mr. Wakefield." With some anxiety she watched for Hank to appear, hoping desperately he would not see her with this man. As innocent as it might be, she did not wish to pique her husband.

  "There's Daddy!" cried Robin.

  With a nervous smile, Beth said, "Well, so it is."

  Beth placed her hands on the basket handle. Mr. Wakefield's eyes held unvoiced questions. She glanced down at his hands, which still held the handle.

  "I'm sorry. Here." he said, releasing his hold.

  Beth's eyes darted away, then at him. "Good day, Mr. Wakefield."

  "Mrs. Garvey." He touched his cap and walked away with the slight limp that Beth no longer noticed.

  Maggie stamped the last book for the last lurking patron, followed him to the door and then locked it behind him. She returned to the desk, but Jake was no longer there, where she had left him. Unconcerned, she decided to shelve a few books while she waited for him to return. She climbed up the ladder and with a small stack of books in her arms. A hand grasped her ankle. "Ah!" She sharply inhaled. Gentle hands slid up her ankle and calf. She looked down at Jake, whose face was buried in folds of her skirt. He made her lightheaded. She grabbed for the ladder for support and missed. With sturdy arms, Jake held her waist and lifted her down to the floor.

  The library doors rattled against the fastened lock. Startled, they looked toward the door. It was locked. They looked at each other in stunned relief. Jake pulled her against him. She could not breathe in enough of his scent.

  Jake said, "I can't wait until we're married."

  "Soon."

  "Soon is too far away."

  "Jake." Her voice was weak. The sound of his halting breath in her ear emptied her mind and filled her with longing. He kissed her neck. Maggie found herself leaning against him. She did not know when she'd done it. Her body just moved of its own accord.

  He whispered, "If you knew how I've loved you."

  "How?" she asked, yearning for him to show her forever.

  "Like this," he said, but his words were lost to a kiss. He pulled slowly away and lifted admiring eyes to her hair. He held her head gently and breathed in, stroking the thick, upswept tresses. His lips touched her brow and her cheek as he whispered her name, and then quenched his need for her mouth.

  "Here? In the library?" She pressed her hands against Jake's chest and held him at bay.

  Jake combed his firm fingers from her nape into her scalp. Hair fell loose as Maggie's head swayed back. He kissed her again. "I should stop," he said, as his mouth was on hers. He worked to unhook the back of her shirtwaist, and had undone two hooks of her collar when she reached back and took hold of his wrists.

  In a helpless hush, she whispered, "You stay away from me, Jacob O'Neill." But his strong jaw and full lips stole her resolve. She let go of his hands so she could refasten her collar, but with her arms up so, she was defenseless against Jakes hands.

  "Drowsy Maggie," he said, as he kissed the soft skin at her collar. "I want to get drowsy with you."

  Her eyes drooped shut as she took a breath in.

  The shadow of his beard brushed against her cheek and pricked her senses. In a deep, quiet voice, he said, "The library's locked." He pulled back just enough to give her a smoldering look.

  From this, she had no defense. Her head swam as she circled his neck with her arms. With dizzying thirst, her lips sought his and she sank into the sublime. Her body responded to him as he touched her and pressing against her, slowly gathering folds of her skirt in his hands.

  No touch was enough as they vented their passion with no aim but to offer and take of each other. They tugged and pulled clothing loose until they were free. With a sharp gasp, she clung to him. He drew back watched her with wonder. They could be no closer in body or spirit. Love pulsed through and between them, until they sank, tangled and spent, to the floor.

  Chapter 23

  It felt more like March than May as the crew team gathered at the dock and prepared to row its way across the lake, with Powell as coxswain. Allison sat bundled beneath a blanket and watched from the porch. The screen door creaked and closed.

  "Allison."

  She smiled upon hearing his voice.

  Samuel glanced inside the house, where housemaids were at work. Quietly, he slid a chair over until it touched Allison's. They looked out over the water as Samuel leaned to within an inch of Allison's ear.

  "I want to touch you," he said in a low whisper.

  Allison slid her hand from the arm of her chair until it hung hidden between the two chairs. Fingertips touched and interlaced.

  She whispered, "We need to talk."

  Samuel lurched back against his chair as Andrew burst onto the porch. Allison pulled the blanket above her shoulders, and shuddered. Hoping to distract Andrew, she shivered and said, "Will summer never come?"

  A frown seemed to pass over Andrew's face, but Allison thought she might have conjured it from her own uneasiness.

  Andrew sat beside Samuel and said, "I need these papers drawn up by Monday."

  "Why so soon? The court has to give us time to prepare the case."

  "Well, actually, it did."

  Samuel clenched his teeth and looked anywhere but at Andrew.

  "And it's been on your desk for how long?"

  "I'm sorry." He handed Samuel a file folder thick with papers.

  Allison paused at the door on her way inside. She and Samuel exchanged knowing looks, while Andrew opened the folder and quickly reviewed the case with Samuel before joining his teammates for practice.

  The late afternoon light cast shadows across the grounds as Allison slipped out of the house and walked her usual circuitous route toward the outhouse and around behind the carriage house, where she slipped inside. All day she had tried, but going to Samuel proved impossible without drawing suspicion. The crew team were guests for the day. She could not take two steps without running into one of them. As long as Powell was busy with them, she felt no immediate threat. And besides, Samuel was mired in work that her brother had neglected. So she'd waited until now, when dusk gathered about. She sat on a bale of hay to wait. Her heart swelled, impatient with longing. From behind her, two hands reached down and rested on her shoulders, prompting a smile to bloom on her face. With a sigh, she leaned back into his arms. Only then did she see the light skin of the hands that gripped her shoulders. Allison recoiled and saw his face.

  "Powell!"

  "Yes. Who else would it be?" His mouth twisted into a smile as he reached out his hand.

  Ignoring him, Allison bolted from the carriage house and collided with Samuel outside the doorway. In close pursuit, Powell stopped short at the sight of Allison in Samuel's arms. The three exchanged wary looks.

  Powell was first to speak. "Well, look who's here. Look who's always here."

  Samuel's eyes remained fixed on Powell as Allison stepped aside and brushed the stray strands of hair from her face. She shifted her gaze to the ground in marked silence.

  Samuel turned his gaze to Allison. "Is everything okay?"

  Powell snickered, "It's just a little lovers' spat."

  Samuel flashed a condemning look at Powell, but said nothing. He forced his fists to uncoil as he choked back his scorn.

  The sky darkened around them as Allison excused herself and walked toward the house.

  Powell took a step to follow, but a heavy hand gripped his arm.

  "Leave her alone," Samuel warned.

  Powell's transparent face twisted into a derisive scowl. "I beg your pardon?"

 
; Samuel tightened his grip on Powell's arm, and spoke deliberately. "Leave the lady alone."

  Powell's eyes narrowed. He shifted his weight, but Samuel held fast. "I don't take orders from the likes of you."

  "With a swoop, Powell was against the wall of the carriage house, his lapel twisted in Samuel's grip. Powell's eyes were alive with fear as he cowered beneath a charring glare. Samuel spoke slowly, choking down volatile emotions. "You will leave her alone, understand?" His arm itched to pound in the face of the man. But he refused to stoop to Powell's level.

  Samuel asked him once more through clenched teeth, "Do you understand?"

  Powell did his best to nod despite the tightening grip.

  Samuel thought through each word and phrase he would not lower himself to say, and then he released his grip and turned to walk away.

  "I understand...Sam-bo."

  In one fluid motion, Samuel spun around and jabbed a sharp blow to Powell's face, which sent the man tottering back a few steps before he fell to the ground. Pulling out a handkerchief, Powell dabbed the blood that dripped from his nose, and cast a menacing glare at Samuel. He then pulled himself to his feet and scampered away.

  A soft voice broke the silence. "Samuel!" She stood by the hedge, out of sight from the house. . Samuel checked to make sure Powell was inside, and then walked nonchalantly behind the corner of the carriage house to Allison. Once out of sight, they flew into each other's arms.

  "Allison." He clutched her face to his cheek. "Are you alright?"

  "He knows about us."

  "I'll have to leave. Will you come with me?"

  "You know the answer."

  He pulled back and held her shoulders. His mind was racing. "I need a few days to get things in order."

  Allison nodded.

  "Are you sure this is what you want?"

  Without hesitation, Allison said, "I will love you till breath leaves my body. You're a part of me now. "

  Samuel looked about. Seeing no one, he slipped his arms about her. The wind blew against them, as darkness loomed before them.