Calico Ball

by Kelly, Carla

  “I understand.” She forced the brightest of expressions. “The day is unusually warm. No need to stay.”

  Her breaking heart managed to pound harder, her pulse too loud in her ears.

  From the direction of the park, a brass band struck up “The Gladiator March.” She adored the popular John Philip Sousa piece. Focusing on the music barely held her together.

  “I’m so very sorry.” He looked anywhere but at her. Into the soda water fountain. At his shoes. He clicked open his pocket watch. Snapped it shut. “You understand, don’t you?”

  “Of course.” Her smile widened, as did the fissure in her heart.

  Didn’t he care how greatly his rejection crushed her spirit?

  Hadn’t he listened when she’d explained her greatest heartache? How desperately she needed love and how unwilling her family had been to love her no matter what?

  The street had grown quiet, the crowds having moved on toward the events at the park. Even Naomi and Sophia had left them alone for this conversation. They waited with their husbands in the shade of a tree at the end of the block.

  In the growing calm, Isabella acknowledged the truth. She’d allowed herself to believe that this time, things would be different. This time, she’d magically prove worthy of love.

  Forever and always, no matter what.

  Conveniently, she’d not embraced his truth.

  Henry’s pacing halted several feet from her. “I told you how I feel, about my need for a secure home. Someone who will make our home comfortable within my income.”

  His stiffness pained her. “Yes, Henry, I heard.”

  But she hadn’t. She saw that now. Somehow, that ill-fated conversation hadn’t impressed upon her Henry’s determination to wed the right kind of woman.

  That woman was not Isabella.

  For if she had truly heard, she never would have allowed the slimmest scrap of hope.

  All the wishing in the world hadn’t solved matters with her family. She’d held on for years, fighting for common ground.

  Why would Henry be different?

  Tears threatened, and this time, they wouldn’t remain hidden.

  Henry stood with hands splayed, reflecting the hope and desperation in her own heart. “Even if I had adequate income—” A growl blending hopelessness and aggravation ripped from his throat. “Even if. Are you the woman I need, Isabella?”

  Her heart tripped over itself, tearing in two. The irregular rhythm raced.

  As if her broken heart spilled its deepest, most secret contents, clarity shone light on the most painful truth of all. She’d lost him. The one man she’d believed she could love and live with in happiness. The marriage that would please her mother and allow her to keep her dream.

  The perfect solution—the proof that her sacrifice of timely marriage and motherhood, sacrifice of her family’s love and support, had ultimately been worth it.

  But Henry was so much more than a man she could to live with.

  Henry was the one man, the only man, she could not live without.

  He scowled. “Do you want to embrace homemaking? Raise children? Make the home your domain?”

  He’d made himself clear. Now. And months ago. He’d told her the greatest, deepest desires of his heart. How could she ask him to give up his dreams?

  Her family had asked, cajoled, and demanded she abandon her dreams.

  After all she’d been through, the thought of leaving dentistry eviscerated her.

  Even if she tried to remake herself into the woman he wanted, she would, inevitability, disappoint.

  He knew she’d chosen dentistry over husband and children.

  Why taunt her with prizes she would never win?

  “No.” Her voice broke. “I can’t.”

  She could not abandon her career.

  Not even for Henry.

  At the breakfast table the following morning, Henry fought to hide his sour mood.

  He’d made an enormous personal sacrifice, the hardest decision of his life. The rewards would last decade upon decade.

  So why hadn’t he slept like a baby?

  True, the temperature had remained in the nineties overnight, and though the sun had been up all of an hour, the thermometer rapidly approached triple digits.

  The single window in Henry’s small bedroom opened six inches. The usual Wyoming wind had failed to blow. He’d lain atop the bedsheets and wished for winter’s icy wind.

  Through the thin wall separating his room from the Lindens’, his inability to sleep had been exacerbated by the bawling child. And bickering between Mr. Linden and his wife.

  So much for his long-held belief that Mr. and Mrs. Linden lived in their own Garden of Eden.

  “Toast?” Linden passed the plate to Henry. “Ham?”

  Henry accepted both, then picked up his coffee cup, only to find it empty.

  “Gertrude,” Linden snapped, “get the man his coffee.”

  Any husband who treated his wife like the enemy and strangers with kindness, deserved—

  “I told you yesterday, we have no coffee.” Heavily pregnant, the woman held her sobbing child on one hip. She blotted perspiration from her forehead with her sleeve. Red mottled her fair skin. She’d cried. Much. And recently.

  From the beginning, Henry had wanted the Linden home to be like Dr. Ullman’s home—that place where home and heaven were one.

  “Can’t you do anything right?” Linden stood, his chair crashing to the floor.

  The child wailed louder.

  She bounced the baby, urging him to quiet. He reached for the skillet on the stove, and she pulled his little hand away.

  “It’s your responsibility to keep necessities in the house.” Without acknowledging his wife, Linden grabbed two pieces of ham from his plate and the remaining slice of toast. “Do yourself a favor, Dr. Merritt. Never marry.”

  The man slammed the door behind himself. Seconds later, the squeak of the gate’s hinges carried through open windows.

  Mrs. Linden turned away. Her body shook, probably fighting sobs.

  What was the right thing to do?

  “Mrs. Linden, please sit and eat.” He hadn’t a clue what to do for a miserable child, but he offered anyway. “I could take the child outside for a moment.”

  “Eat what, Dr. Merritt?” The usually sweet-tempered, hard-working woman showed her temper. “My husband ate my breakfast, and our child’s.”

  The man needed a lesson in decency, and Henry itched to deliver it.

  Instead, he pulled out his chair and held it for her. He’d not eaten more than a bite, and the single slice of toast and ham seemed insufficient for a hungry child and an expectant mother.

  He was their boarder. Not a brother, not a friend.

  What would Mother have believed right?

  Better, what would Isabella do? She always knew the right way to approach challenges and how to offer help and kindness without offending.

  “Please sit. Eat. Feed the child.”

  The boy wriggled, reaching for the toast on Henry’s plate. He cried louder.

  She sagged into the chair. The child grabbed bread in one hand and meat in the other. He bit into the toast and chewed. His cheeks shone, and his nose ran.

  Mrs. Linden spilled fresh tears.

  Henry reached to touch her shoulder but thought better of it. “How can I help?”

  “You pay room and board. That’s plenty.”

  No. A sorry excuse for a man had eaten while his child cried for bread.

  As a boy, he’d known desperation, but never hunger.

  Had Mother?

  The child hiccupped. He sighed heavily and rested his head upon his mother. The child ate, unaware of his mother’s hunger.

  How long had it been since she’d eaten? How long since she’d eaten her fill?

  “Has Mr. Linden gone to work?” If he were paid today—

  “Union Pacific fired him for neglect of duty.”

  Henry’s gut twisted.
/>   No income. No affection in times of trial.

  Not what Mrs. Linden had anticipated when she’d wed.

  A good man, a decent man, did not walk away.

  Truth slammed into Henry—as if he’d been caught unaware by an oncoming train.

  A decent man did not walk away.

  He, Henry Merritt, had walked away.

  All because he’d been determined to protect himself, to ensure his own heart’s safety.

  What of Isabella? What about her protection? And her heart?

  He’d brought this misery upon himself by his own selfish choices.

  How had he deluded himself? Isabella wasn’t merely the best woman for him. She was the only woman.

  Linden’s grievances were no less severe than his own.

  He removed his pocketbook from his coat pocket and withdrew the bills. Every last one. He set them on the table.

  Sometimes, the needs of the helpless ate at him.

  “No, Doctor.” Tears of anger and frustration streamed down her face.

  “My mother worked tirelessly, desperate to make ends meet.” He paused. “I’m sorry I wasn’t aware. I won’t make that mistake again.”

  He picked up one of the bills. “I’ll walk to the market presently and return with groceries to see you and the child fed.”

  She hid her face in her child’s hair. “Thank you.”

  Step one, rectify what he could, here.

  Step two, face his own dazzling error in judgment.

  Henry wore the horrid calico suit of clothes to the calico ball.

  On the outskirts of the party, a few UP employees passed a flask around. One toasted Henry with a raised liquor bottle. “A fine suit you wear this evening.”

  Henry tipped his hat and trudged forward.

  He raised his hat to matrons who whispered behind fans.

  Only one person at this gathering held his interest. One.

  He approached the pavilion proper, determined to find her.

  Once he did, he’d lay his heart bare and confess the whole truth.

  The orchestra completed a tune, followed by vigorous applause.

  Mayor Gardner grabbed the opportunity, his speaking trumpet raised, to make an announcement. “I hold here,” he bellowed through the device, “a telegram from Washington, District of Columbia!”

  Commotion, mostly women hushing one another, melded with cheers and whistles.

  “Dated yesterday, July 10, 1890. To: Honorable John W. Meldrum, Governor. Proclaim it to the people that Wyoming is a member of the Indestructible Union of American States—”

  Applause drowned the rest of the mayor’s amplified announcement, but Henry couldn’t care about statehood or the calico ball or the enormous audience sure to hear most of his groveling.

  Across the dance floor, he sighted Isabella on the arm of the UP engineer, Mr. James. Long evening rays slanted across the pavilion, casting her in golden light. The blue-green of her calico put him in mind of sunlight on the Delaware River.

  Why had he believed he could live without this woman?

  Certainty compelled him to abandon everything he’d clung to like bedrock.

  The only thing he needed to know was that Isabella was the only woman for him. He didn’t need all of the answers now. They’d find their way forward together.

  He removed his hat and tucked it beneath his arm.

  She turned, locating him instantly. She said something brief to James, who then looked in Henry’s direction. He escorted her to within a few feet of Henry and disappeared.

  Smart man.

  Dully, he noted applause as the mayor finished with the telegram reading. The orchestra struck up the next dance number.

  Isabella raised her chin. “That’s a fine calico suit of clothes you’re wearing, Dr. Merritt.”

  He smoothed his hand over the jacket, quick to find the gold watch chain he’d worn daily as a reminder of his chosen path. “It is a fine suit of clothes. My best.”

  Folks nearby lingered, preferring, apparently, to observe the couple whose clothing matched.

  “Indeed, it is.” Happiness, genuine and real, lit her face.

  “I wear it because it matches your costume. We’re a matched set.”

  Her countenance dimmed. “Fabric selected two months ago does little to convince me. My costume and your suit are nothing more than clothes. Clothes cannot explain who a person is inside.”

  Pain filled her words, her posture, her voice. He must fix this. “You captured my interest, Dr. Isabella Pattison, the moment I saw you on the street a year ago.” She knew this story. But he’d not yet told her how he’d felt. “I was wildly attracted to you.”

  She slowly unfolded her arms. Good. She listened.

  Someone nearby chuckled. Henry ignored his growing audience. He cared only for Isabella. The last months had shown they could talk things through and find a solution.

  “We met,” he told her, “and you captured my respect of your intellect. You put together odd glimpses of the puzzle and knew where I headed on Easter morning.”

  A soft smile touched her lips.

  “You captured my heart the first time I saw you comfort a child.”

  Over the music, a nearby woman sighed. “No, Cletis. I won’t dance with you. I’m listening to a swain plead his case.”

  Let the whole county watch and listen. They weren’t Henry’s concern.

  He searched Isabella’s face. “You affirmed what I already knew—you’re compassionate, capable, and intelligent.”

  She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. None of this mattered to her.

  “Isabella, you’re the one I want by my side, every day of my life. How could any other woman give me encouragement, ongoing intrigue, and perspective in my life’s work?”

  Chatter among the onlookers swelled. More than one matron urged Isabella to concede and step into his embrace.

  Still, she waited. And he knew why. He’d not yet apologized.

  “I’ve been a fool. A miserable fool. I apologize, with all the sorrow in my heart. For all I said in fear and anger and all I should’ve said. And for hinting, even now, that you’d make a fine doctor’s wife.”

  She nodded, the gesture so small, he’d have missed it if he’d blinked.

  Moments ticked past as she looked into his eyes. He’d give every dollar in his possession to know her thoughts.

  “What should you have said, Henry?”

  What should he have said? His heart pounded, but those many somethings wouldn’t come.

  Finally, he repeated the important parts. “You’re the one my heart desires. Yes, I want a home, love, and happiness. I’m a fool to look for those miracles anywhere else, with anyone else.”

  She waited, expecting more.

  “I’ve realized, ultimately, that home is not defined by so strict a measure.” He’d learned so many things in the past days. “How can anywhere be home without you?”

  Did she understand?

  An eternity passed, and finally she gave a brief nod. “And?”

  What more was there? He wanted to pace, but forced himself to remain still.

  “I’ve struggled to find answers.” He ached in body, mind, and soul. Mostly in his heart. “Together, we can find the answers. We had an epiphany over a patient, but honestly, it was mostly you.”

  She nodded but crossed her arms again, shifting her weight away from him.

  He floundered in the dark. If he failed this most critical exam of his life, he could lose her forever.

  He took a step nearer. “We managed to afford the calico ball invitations on budget. Where we disagreed, we’ve talked it through and found common ground. You respect my opinion, and I respect yours. What troubles are so insurmountable that we can’t solve them together?”

  The ghost of hurtful things he’d told her flitted between them. He’d said he couldn’t afford a wife.

  He’d said he couldn’t afford her.

  His heart ached, knowing he’d contri
buted to the scars she carried from her banker brother-in-law’s criticism and from her only sister’s distasteful comments. And what of her mother?

  “I’m a coward,” he whispered. “I’m a coward,” he repeated, determined Isabella hear his regret and apology despite the music and dancers and conversations surrounding them. “I admit it. I’m scared to take on responsibilities I doubt I can afford financially. But with you, I think, no—I know—we have a chance.”

  The gold watch chain slipped through his hand. He caught himself in time to avoid blotting his palms against the calico sack suit. Instead, he pulled a calico handkerchief from his pocket, dried his hands, and blotted his forehead.

  Nervousness swelled, tightening the collar about his neck, forcing his heart to work doubly hard.

  He’d imagined this conversation progressing on a more effective track. He’d apologized before, and she’d always been quick to forgive.

  “Isabella?” He cleared his throat. Their audience grew impatient. He grew impatient.

  She stood immobile, her arms folded tightly, and her posture rigid. Isabella’s impatience outranked them all. Her expression filled with a marrow-deep sadness.

  “Please give me one more chance to prove myself. Now that I know my own heart, I’ll show you, every single day, that I can be trusted.”

  She turned her face away and tucked her chin.

  What did she want? He’d give it to her, if only he knew.

  Yes! She wanted partnership—he could give her that. “If you’ll have me, I want a true partnership. I’ll pay to have the sign painter come around. Merritt and Pattison Dentistry. No—Pattison and Merritt Dentistry.”

  Chuckles erupted from the crowd, but Isabella remained still.

  But he’d thought . . .

  Panic spurted through his veins. “I can’t lose you. Not like this. Not again.”

  Slowly, she turned away, her body in profile.

  This time, it seemed, he’d gone too far. Beyond forgiveness. Beyond second chances. His mind raced through every conversation, every secret she’d shared. What had he missed?

  With the desperation of a drowning man, he cast about for help. He grappled in the crowd, at last discovering Joe—

  I love you, Joe mouthed.

  Not an uncommon showing of brotherhood, especially at a time like this—but . . .