THE IMPERIAL ENGINEER

by Judith B. Glad

  And oh! Such a dance it had been. She had never realized how...how overpowering and compelling the sexual act could be. There had come a point where common sense and responsibility had been swept aside by her body's demands.

  Obviously one had to impose self-control before that point. And she hadn't.

  She could excuse herself by saying she hadn't realized how imperative passion would be, but that was a weak apology for something she should never have allowed to proceed so far. Good grief, I was the one who started--

  The indigestion struck again, this time like a fluttering just behind her belly button. Strange... Oh, my God!

  She laid her hand over her rounded belly, felt the fluttering movement faintly against her palm. It's not indigestion. It's the baby!

  And then it stopped. "Oh, no! Why did you stop? Are you all right?" She pressed her hand against her abdomen, feeling around, seeking the small movement again.

  Nothing. What if she had harmed it, poking at herself like that?

  Lulu lay very still, almost afraid to breathe, both hands gently pressing against her belly. At last, when she had almost drifted into exhausted sleep, she felt another flutter. Oh, thank God! You're alive!

  * * * *

  She was still asleep when a knocking came at her door. For a moment, she couldn't remember where she was, until she saw the familiar shape of her bedstead in the dim light.

  "Just a moment," she cried, knowing full well no one outside could hear her. Feeling stiff and aching and centuries older than twenty-eight, she rolled out of bed and slipped into her robe. Her slippers were nowhere to be found, so she crossed the icy floor on bare feet.

  The knocking continued.

  "Will you stop that?" she muttered grumpily as she peered under the sofa, seeking her slippers. "You're going to disturb Mrs. Graham."

  Her next-door neighbor was usually up with the chickens, but still... "I'm coming," she called, and this time the knocking ceased. Lulu found the slippers in the corner behind her sewing basket. "I wonder how they got there." She hadn't used them since she got home, so they must have wandered in her absence.

  She peered through the sidelight. Sure enough, it was Tony. Jerking open the door, she said, "You didn't have to rouse the whole neighborhood."

  "Are you ready?" He pushed past her. "You're not even dressed yet!"

  "I was sleeping," she said. "What time is it, anyhow?"

  "Seven." He tossed his coat and hat onto the sofa. "I brought some boxes. Let's get started."

  "Started?" Not having had her morning tea, she felt as if her head was still stuffed with cobwebs. "Are we going somewhere?"

  "You are. Out to my place. I want to get as much of your stuff packed before ten as I can. Eagleton should be in about then, and I'll need to talk to him, see about taking some time off."

  The morning fuzziness was gone, just like that. "Wait a minute! I haven't agreed to anything yet. Go away, Tony. We'll talk this afternoon, after I've had time to do some thinking."

  Yes, she definitely had some thinking to do. From her first realization of her condition, her pregnancy had been a disaster, a significant complication in a well-planned life. She had about made up her mind to give the child up for adoption, sight unseen.

  Motherhood had never been a role she'd seen herself playing. She wasn't like Mamma, or Aunt Hattie, naturally maternal. She had never, as Katie had once admitted doing, looked at someone's infant and immediately wanted one of her own to cuddle and love.

  She'd even thought a cat would be too much bother.

  Until last night. Now the small life growing in her womb had become real, a part of her she would protect and defend with her life, if need be.

  But she still had no intention of getting married, not even to Tony.

  "Lulu, I'm not going to argue with you. Either you pack up your stuff, or I'll do it for you. And you won't like the results. I haven't much time."

  "You've got all the time in the world, Tony Dewitt, because I'm not going anywhere with you, not today, maybe not ever. So go on and string a telephone wire or something, and let me decide what I want to do." As she spoke, she'd filled the tea kettle and set it on the stove. Fortunately she had laid this morning's fire last night, so all she had to do was set a match to it. "I refuse to do anything, even thinking, until I've had my tea."

  "I'll buy you tea when we go--"

  She turned on him. "Listen to me, Tony. I am not going to go anywhere with you until I've had time to decide what I want to do. I don't care if you are bigger than I am. I can do considerable damage to you, if you try to force me. Now, I'll admit you might have a right to know what decision I make regarding this child, but you do not have the right to force me into a marriage that would be a total mistake.

  "I give you my word that I'll think this through and whatever decision I come to will be, in my opinion, the best for the child and for me. Once I've decided, I will tell you before I do anything. Do you understand me?"

  His stance did not change, and the hard expression on his face softened not one whit. "I'll give you until noon. That's all."

  She had the feeling he was trying to look deep inside her, to read her thoughts. She hoped he could make better sense of them than she seemed to be doing.

  "Just remember this, Lulu. If I don't like what you've decided, I'll fight you. The child is mine, as much as yours, and I have an equal say in what happens to him."

  "Her," she corrected. "The baby is a girl."

  "How do you know?"

  "I just do. Now go away."

  To her great surprise, he went, without another word.

  Chapter Sixteen

  ...if acceptable servant-girls can be secured for $5 per week, families will prefer to employ them rather than Chinamen, whom they are compelled to pay at least $6 and sometimes $8 per week. If a sufficient number of capable girls were here now, we have no doubt that the last Chinaman would be discharged.

  Wood River Times

  ~~~

  Tony raised the shades as soon as he was inside, even though he'd sooner leave them down and let the town think the office was closed today. It's not as if I have anything to do, unless something broke overnight. I'm an engineer, not a secretary. He went into his office to get the letters he'd spent most of yesterday afternoon writing. All five of them.

  A typewriting machine! What'll he come up with next? He had to admit the finished product was a lot easier to read than Eagleton's handwriting, but at what cost? He'd wasted a dozen sheets of stationery for every finished letter. He could have turned out every one of them in an hour, printing them in the precise hand he'd learned in his drafting classes.

  A folder was lying on top of the letters. His name was scrawled across it. His employer often came in early and left him work to do. Eagleton liked to breakfast with other businessmen, and sometimes didn't return to the office until nearly noon. "I get more business done at the table than at the desk," he'd once told Tony. "Folks just naturally are less apt to be suspicious when a man's feeding them."

  Opening the folder, he saw it held newspaper clippings. He picked the first one up.

  THE ANTI-CHINESE LEAGUE was the headline. So the league was still at it. Why wasn't he surprised? He'd seen several articles in the Denver paper that made him even more aware that what was happening in Hailey was just one instance of widespread anti-Chinese sentiment. He glanced through the article, seeing that the league had given the local Celestials until the end of May to get out of town.

  Or what? Will there be lynchings, burnings? Killings?

  He'd experienced a small sample of what could happen to his people when anti-Chinese mobs formed.

  His people? Where did that come from? They're not my people. Even Soomey admits that I've become more American than Chinese.

  He forced the questions to the back of his mind and read on, skimming each of the cut-out articles. One, dated last week, ended with the statement that the Chinese in Hailey had said they would not go. Tony wondered if t
hey knew what they were letting themselves in for.

  On the other hand, he realized as he glanced down the article from the following day's paper, they might just win this particular battle. Someone at the last meeting had pointed out that running the Chinese out of town would leave their wives without servants. Chuckling, he laid it aside. No wonder the League wanted to enlist the town's women to their cause. He'd have to share this with Lulu...

  Lulu... She has to marry me. There's no other choice. But will she see it that way?

  The next article spoke of enlisting 'good Mormon girls' as servants and assured the readers that said young women would be more than happy to work for less than what folks were now paying the yellow heathens.

  Tony wondered if the gentleman who'd made that promise had tried to hire a household servant lately. In Denver he'd heard some of the men complaining because the Irish girls who worked for them were now demanding eight and even ten dollars a week, and all day Sunday off.

  The front door opened, closed. He stuffed the clippings back into the folder and went into the front office. Mr. Eagleton was there, just taking off his overcoat.

  "So you made it back. I was beginning to wonder if they'd ever get the line open."

  "I thought about trying to get here on snowshoes, but after the surface froze--"

  Eagleton waved his apology aside. "Never mind. Business is slow this time of year. You get those letters written?"

  "On your desk."

  "Well, what do you think of the typewriting machine? Clever ain't it?" He hung his suit coat on the hook behind the door.

  "I think it'll take some getting used to. I wasted a lot of paper."

  "So did I, when it first came. But I'm getting pretty good now." He mimed pecking at the keyboard with two fingers. "Now, then, tell me about your meetings in Denver."

  Tony spent an impatient half an hour relating the gist of what he'd learned at the telephone engineering meeting he'd attended. "Compared to some of the companies, we've had relatively little trouble with line breakage and vandalism. One fellow, from somewhere back in Ohio, I think, told about finding the line cut between two poles. He looked around, trying to find a clue to who did it, and saw it in a nearby yard, strung for clothesline. The woman of the house swore it had been there for years." He went on to relate other anecdotes, knowing that Eagleton was far more interested in them than in the technical information he'd picked up.

  "Well, then, it sounds as if your time was well spent," Eagleton said when Tony fell silent. "What's on your schedule this week?"

  Hesitating, Tony wondered if he might be stepping out of line. "I was going to ask you if I could have the rest of the week off, sir. Without pay, of course. I've got some...some personal business to take care of."

  "Anything I can do to help?"

  "No, but thanks." For a moment he considered telling Eagleton everything, then common sense prevailed. The man was generous and kindly, but he was, after all, Tony's boss, not his friend.

  * * * *

  Once she was alone, Lulu sank into her rocker and stared into space. Her mind spun with thoughts strange and new.

  She didn't want to get married. She hadn't wanted to get married since she was too young to know better. All her plans for her future had been destroyed by one careless action. How could she have been so heedless? So lacking in foresight?

  Yet her hands could still recall the hard strength of him. She tasted him again, rich and hot, on her tongue. What would it be like, to share a bed with him forevermore, to go to sleep in his arms and wake next to him?

  Don't be ridiculous! You have a career. What would he do the first time you went haring off to the other side of the country, just to make a speech?

  As if in answer, she heard his words on the Fourth of July, "I was so proud of you, up there on that podium. What you had to say was worth listening to. And I wanted to yell to the crowd to shut up, so they could hear you."

  Of course, then he'd yelled at her for endangering herself. So she'd yelled back, and they'd gone at it hammer and tongs, as they always seemed to do, anymore.

  She didn't know how to be a mother. How could she possibly be trusted with something so precious as a baby? She had dim, faraway memories of holding Iris Lachlan, who'd been a sickly child and not often given into the care of older siblings or cousins. There had been no more babies in the families until Katie's, but Lulu had been away while most of them were infants.

  How would she cope with a child? Her writing and speaking paid enough to keep her, as long as she lived frugally, but those small sums would never stretch for a nursemaid. And without someone to help care for her child, she would have little time to write, would not be able to travel to speaking engagements. She would be ethically constrained to give up the small allowance her mother sent her for clothing. "You can't appear in public looking shabby. People will listen to your message as long as you appear respectable, with no hint of the revolutionary about you," Mamma had told her. After seeing the reception given some of the more radical suffrage campaigners, Lulu knew Mamma had been right.

  She was still sitting in the rocker when Tony returned a little before noon. He walked through her front door as if he had a right to. "I'm glad you're back," she said. "Sit down. We need to talk."

  "You're not even dressed yet."

  "I've been thinking."

  "The time for thinking is past. Are you packed?"

  "No, and I'm not going to unless we can come to some sort of an agreement."

  "Agreement, hell! You'll marry me, Lulu. My son will not be born a bastard." He loomed over her, his hands on the rocker's arms. "If you want to run off afterwards, that'll be your choice. Until then, you'll be my wife. But you'll leave the baby with me."

  She shrank back, seeing a Tony she'd never seen before, one whose will was as strong as her father's. "No, I--"

  "Yes! Now will you dress yourself, or will I?"

  There would be no reasoning with him in this mood. Her brothers had taught her that. Men! They made up their minds and no amount of rational argument would sway them. "Oh, very well, but once I'm dressed, we're going to have a calm, sensible conversation."

  "I'll start packing. How much of this folderol belongs to you?" His arm made a broad sweep, the gesture taking in the entire parlor.

  "Start with the books. I won't be long." She reckoned he could do little damage by packing her small library. Some of her keepsakes were fragile, and she would pack them herself. If she decided to go with him.

  Years of living out of a travel case had taught Lulu to dress quickly. She chose a walking suit of gray faille, one of the two she'd purchased second-hand just before leaving Portland. Its velvet trim showed a little wear, but not enough that she'd look shabby. The jacket was long and loose and concealed the gap at the back where she could no longer fasten the skirt or the lower buttons of the blouse. When she returned to the parlor, Tony was just putting the last books into a box.

  Although her deliberations of the morning had brought her to an inescapable conclusion, she believed there were considerations to be addressed before she yielded to Tony's demands. "Come into the kitchen," she told him. "I'd like some tea while we make our plans."

  He stood, dusting his hands. "There's no need because there's nothing to discuss. Are you ready?"

  She ignored him and went into the kitchen. Steam from the teakettle's spout showed that the water was hot enough for tea, so she warmed the pot. When she heard his footsteps behind her, she said, not turning around, "There certainly is something to discuss. Supposing I was to agree to marry you--"

  At his exclamation, she faced him. "I said supposing, Tony. I haven't agreed to anything yet." His face was set in stubborn lines, but she wasn't about to give in to him. Begin as you mean to go on, her mother had said to her, more than once. Letting him have his own way now would set an undesirable precedent.

  "If we marry, I don't want to do it here in Hailey," she said. "We're going to cause enough talk as it is, and
getting our names in the paper will only make it worse."

  He opened his mouth, but shut it again when she held up a hand.

  "Let me go on, please. You'll have your opportunity for rebuttal when I'm done." Who'd have thought her public speaking experience would be so handy under these circumstances? "Secondly, I will not promise to obey you, so unless you'll agree to the deletion of that word from the marriage vows, there's no need for further discussion."

  "You've never obeyed me yet," he muttered, "so why would I think you'd start now?"

  Lulu stifled a grin. Perhaps there was hope for him after all. He hadn't entirely lost his sense of humor. "Third, while I will restrict my more controversial activities until our daughter is older, I will not give up working toward equal rights and universal suffrage. I will simply remain more in the background, because it wouldn't be fair for me to put myself at risk as long as I am responsible for a small child." What she wasn't admitting was how the thought of leaving her daughter motherless had chilled her to the bone.

  She could see he was all but bursting with the effort to keep silent. "And last, I am marrying you with the expectation it is forever. I do not believe in divorce, and will never agree to it. If you decide you no longer wish to live with me, you are free to leave--as will I be, should I come to that conclusion--but we will remain man and wife." She stared up at him, trying to read his thoughts in his face, to see into his heart. "Do you agree?"

  Tony bit back the angry words that threatened to spill from his mouth. Her demands, her outrageous demands, infuriated him, even as a small, rational part of his mind told him they weren't all that unreasonable. He'd done some thinking of his own, through a night that had seemed a century long. This morning he'd come here in a mood to accept just about any conditions she set, as long as she agreed to marry him. But she hadn't. Instead she'd said they had to talk. To talk, for God's sake, when there was nothing more to be said.

  She was going to have his baby. Of course she'd marry him. In his mind there was no question, no argument. Nothing to talk about.