Steam Me Up, Rawley

by Angela Quarles

  She stared at the proud figurine. The haunting loss of Rawley’s absence—was it only the intimacy she ached to reclaim? That she missed? Or was it him?

  The huge realization she’d confessed to him and herself the second night in Sarasota still echoed through her. It had been cleansing and freeing and frightening. Part of her was relieved to fully understand herself, but another part was frustrated that she’d realized it too late and had lost her chance with the one person she...she... Oh, Lord, could he be the one person she...she...loved?

  She swallowed past a hard lump and ran a finger along the brave griffin’s cool marble. She’d not had much of a chance to talk with Rawley on their return trip. His harried departure for Chickasaw had left her feeling exposed, unsure of how he felt.

  In Sarasota, it felt like he’d truly seen her and accepted her. But had her confession exposed too much? Did he also now see her as flighty?

  She gripped her satchel. She had resolved to forge her own path, couldn’t she do the same with Rawley? Show him she’d matured? And if he didn’t renew his addresses, maybe, just maybe, she could ask him.

  Two days later, Adele stepped away from the print shop on Conception Street, excitement thrumming through her. In her hands she clutched one hundred crisp broadsides ready to be plastered all around downtown.

  The top read:

  YOU HEARD IT FROM ME

  Below were two articles: her murder story and her report on the The Neptune’s maiden voyage, enhanced now by her original notes. Her great-aunt had returned yesterday from the cruise and had all Adele’s equipment and notes, but had enlisted Mrs. Tuttle to help interview more passengers, adding to the collected story.

  Mr. Tonti wasn’t the only game in town now.

  Adele approached the first wall where Loki waited with a bucket of paste and a brush. She slapped the paper against the wall, and Loki handed her a laden brush.

  The only thing that could make this moment sweeter? Having Rawley alongside, sharing in the fun.

  The next day, Adele marched into Father’s office, a new article clutched in her hand. But this article would be a private one.

  “We need to talk.”

  He stood, setting a ledger on his desk. “Of course. What troubles you?”

  “We’ve...” She took a deep breath. “We’ve never talked about Maman and why you sent me away. And considering your scheme to marry me off to Dr. Rawley has failed, we’ll be stuck in the same household for longer than I imagine you planned. We need to...clear the air.”

  Mentioning Rawley sent a sharp pang through her, but she wouldn’t betray her hurt and confusion.

  Father sat heavily in his chair. “What do you mean?”

  “Why did you send me to Aunt and Uncle Herndon’s?” She swallowed a hard knot, not eager to hear his explanation but knowing it was necessary.

  He blew a breath and removed his spectacles, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He replaced them, folded his hands in front of him, and looked her in the eye. “This is hard for me to admit, but the truth is, I couldn’t manage it.”

  Her heart broke through her stomach and plopped at her boots. “I was too much trouble?” Just as she’d feared.

  His eyes widened behind his glasses. “Good Lord, no.” He speared his hand in his hair. “See, right there, that’s why.”

  She frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  “Precisely. Adele, when your dear mother died, I was completely adrift. She was the one who kept me focused, who kept me anchored. And there you were with your big eyes, with your grief bottled up so tightly, I was afraid I’d mishandle the situation and messily break it open. Break you. I didn’t know the first thing about how to handle girls, and it...” He squeezed his eyes shut. “It scared me.” His voice had grown soft at that admission. He spun away. “My sister, bless her heart, saw my plight and suggested she take you in, provide you the strength and shelter you needed. Lord knows I was ill-equipped.”

  Her world shifted slightly, its pieces rearranging into a more favorable shape.

  Father faced her, and his lips rolled into a tight line. “Please tell me I did the right thing. I did it for you. I’ve always wanted what’s best for you. I hope you realize that.”

  She breathed in a deep, clear breath, feeling it strengthen her. It would probably take more time to fully shed her resentment, but sincerity and earnestness shone in his eyes, the lines of his face. She could forgive him—he’d done the best he could do at the time. For the first time, she saw her father in a different role than that of a parent. He’d been a man in love with a woman, his wife, and he’d lost her.

  “I believe you. I’m fine now. If you want to do something for me, can you read this? Read it and do the right thing.”

  With that, she handed him the human interest story she’d written about Rawley’s sister. She kissed his forehead and gave him a hug. “Thank you, Father.”

  She swept from the room, tears threatening to overwhelm her. Criminy. It was as if now that she’d opened herself to feeling, experiencing, everything affected her more strongly. Perhaps because it was all so new, but she suspected her shell was so thin because of Rawley. Because of how much she’d messed up.

  She pulled in a shaky breath and hoped Father would read the article and fix the situation with Rawley’s sister. Adele had poured her pent-up frustration into the article, telling the story on behalf of the disfigured girl who wanted only a chance at happiness. And how Father’s talent could give that to her. If it swayed Father, Rawley’s sister would get her operation despite the failure of Rawley’s agreement with her father. And he’d be free to do whatever he wished.

  One successful heart-to-heart out of the way, she ached to move to the next one, the one with Rawley. She’d buck convention and confess her feelings and learn if his matched, but either way she’d know. And she would’ve done it sooner, but the man was still absent, blast him.

  She strode into the parlor and stood in front of her typewriter, a half-written composition in its spool—a human interest story on the displacement of workers by automatons. She pulled out her chair to sit when a commotion at the door had her turning. Rawley?

  But no, it was Mrs. Tuttle entering with a wide grin.

  “My dear, you are quite wicked. And brilliant. I’m so proud of what you’ve done downtown with your broadsides. I wished to come by and tell you I approve. Wholeheartedly.”

  “Thank you so much. I was at my wit’s end with Mr. Tonti.” After she related what had transpired, she finished with, “So I sent a note and told him I quit, that I wouldn’t compromise my integrity for his paper and profit.”

  “As you should have, as you should have.” Mrs. Tuttle stepped forward and held Adele’s upper arms, her grip firm, her gaze piercing. “Tell me, do you have plans to do more?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact.” She nodded to her typewriter.

  “Excellent.” She gave Adele’s arms a squeeze and stepped away, a pleased smile on her face. “Then would you perchance be interested in starting a business? I will finance the enterprise, if you will continue your reporting.”

  Her blood quickened. “What enterprise?”

  “Why, to start our own paper! We’ll show Mr. Tonti and this town real reporting.”

  Elation filled her, and she wanted to hug Mrs Tuttle for wanting to go on this adventure together. For believing in her this whole time.

  Yes. A rival newspaper was the answer. They could report real news, and not be beholden to the whims of the city council.

  After Mrs. Tuttle left, Adele took a break outside to let Loki exercise. He seemed quite relieved to be home. She settled onto the marble bench and opened a book.

  Inevitably, her thoughts turned to the absent Rawley instead of the words on the page. She’d been so used to having him around, his absence felt quite strange.

  She thought back on their short acquaintance. It’d been a little over two weeks ago she’d seen him swoop down in a hot air balloon and into her life.
A hot air balloon, like the one floating down now, though this one was purple.

  She stood and dropped her book.

  A hot air balloon was approaching. With Rawley masterfully flying it, brazen as ever. Heat and pride flared in her chest. She ran down the lawn to see better as he floated above the pecan orchard, descending, getting closer.

  He cleared the trees and swooped lower, the wicker hold shwhip-shwhip-schwhiping across the blades of grass.

  “Grab on!” He leaned over the side and held out a hand.

  She ran alongside the wicker basket, his hand out of reach as the balloon rose. Ahead squatted the marble bench. Adele lifted her skirts, jumped onto the bench, and leaped.

  A firm hand clasped her wrist, and he hauled her over the edge. She lifted up in time to see him pull a lever and clear their rooftop. Her heart pumped with a fierce, exultant energy. Spectacular!

  Not dashing. Pfft.

  Chapter Thirty

  And We Get Our Happily Ever After

  Hell’s teeth.

  Rawley’s heart pounded. From a number of things.

  Firstly, heights still scared the bejeezus out of him.

  Secondly, that had been a very near thing, that rooftop.

  And thirdly, she was here.

  “Screetch scree!”

  And Loki. They looked over the edge, and the monkey dangled from a rope.

  “Loki!” Adele cried, and she carefully pulled him aboard.

  “Got him?”

  “Yes,” she panted.

  “Good, as I’d like to ask you both something.”

  His heart pounded, but it was also because of the way she looked at him. She thought he was dashing, and damn it if he didn’t feel that way around her.

  He swallowed and looked over the edge. They were now heading up Dauphin Street. He flipped the switch for the autoreturn mechanism, not trusting himself to pay as close attention as he would need to.

  He got down on one knee. “Adele, I love you. I was an idiot before, expecting that not to matter. Not to see you. I want to spend my life with you, however crazy it gets. I don’t just want a wife. Not now. I want you. If you’ll have me?”

  Tears spilled from her eyes and ran down her cheeks. Was that a good sign? His heart caught in his throat.

  “Oh, Rawley.” The words came out deeper and wetter through Adele’s tear-choked throat. She dropped to her knees and hugged him, unable to form a more coherent answer.

  As he’d said the words, Adele had looked in his eyes, and what was reflected there poured into her, lifted her, soothed all the tiny lashes she’d given her soul. He did see her. And he still wanted her. He loved her.

  And the realization, rather than feeling restrictive, inflated her soul, bursting from her to float with the surrounding blue sky. His love made her feel free, limitless. Like the blue sky which held such hope, such possibilities, such adventures.

  He tentatively put his arms around her. “Is that a yes?”

  “Oh, yes, Rawley. Yes, it is.”

  She pulled back, fingers clutching his shoulders, and took him in, his roguish, windswept hair, the impish eyebrows. Next to him rested the balloon’s anchor. So apt.

  Then she noticed the tight way he clenched his hands, his darting gaze.

  Good God, he really was scared of heights.

  And he’d braved it for her?

  Her chest swelled with affection and love.

  Yes, love.

  Because she finally understood her own heart. Experiencing how his love felt, freed her to truly feel and understand her own. “I thought I’d ruined it with you.”

  “No chance of that.” He looked down, and an uncertainty overtook his features. “I still don’t know how I was able to win your affections, but I’m glad of it.”

  “Don’t you know?” She nodded toward the anchor. “I can experience life, the wide open skies around us, and know you can keep me grounded when need be, so I don’t float away. Or frit away, as my great-aunt would probably say. Plus, you listen. You see all of me.” She brushed a finger across the dimple in his bottom lip. “I love you, Dr. Rawley. Phillip.”

  Triumph and disbelief and resolve flashed in his eyes. And then they sharpened into possessiveness. His hand dove into her hair and angled her head. And then, oh then, that dimple neared, and his mouth melded with hers, claiming, rejoicing, possessing, moving with a surety that they were now in full accord and had the rest of their lives to explore each other.

  One of his hands thunked against the bulkhead by her shoulder, steadying them. He lifted her until her upper back pressed against the hold’s rim. Below, the automated ballasts hummed as they shifted to the other side and counterbalanced their weight.

  “God, I missed you, Adele. I want you so much,” he said against her mouth between kisses.

  “You have me, silly man.”

  He broke the kiss and caught her gaze, eyes dark with passion and promise. He gave a rakish grin and spun her around until she faced the open sky. A rustle of fabric behind her, and, oh my, her skirts were lifted, and his back pressed against her. One hand slid up her waist and cupped a breast, and—she bit her lip and moaned—his hot length slid inside. She shuddered at the sense of possession, at the sense of rightness. She grabbed the guide rope near her shoulder and pushed back, embedding him farther. “Oh, Phillip!”

  “I love you, Adele,” he whispered in her ear. He pulled out and stroked smoothly into her. “You’re my lodestone.”

  Adele arched her back, taking in more of him. She reached behind and grasped the back of his head, her fingers twining into his hair. “I love you, too.” So freeing to admit it, especially as each word was punctuated by a thrust, as if the words, their love, was being made physical as they moved against each other.

  Heat and urgency built, despite his long slow thrusts. Instead of urging him faster, she allowed him to set the pace and found the anticipation heightened. She reveled in the view of the expanding sky, impossibly blue, as behind her, the man she loved anchored her and moved so deliciously inside her, filling her with each sensual stroke of his body.

  Without warning, pleasure burst outward, swamping her senses. “Phillip!” She clutched the rope tighter as wave after wave pulsed through her.

  “Christ, Adele!” He gripped the basket’s edge and her hip and pumped into her faster and faster. She opened her mouth, a keening swirling through her, tightening her again around him. He seared into her one final time, his swollen shaft jerked, and his hot seed spurted inside her, setting off another round of pulsing pleasure.

  She shook against him, their breaths ragged, and he pulled her until they fell backward, she on his lap still seated on his length, his arms and legs wrapped tightly around her, his mouth covering her neck with tiny kisses.

  She crossed her arms and held his shoulders, delighting in the bundle they made. She felt so cherished, so loved.

  When their breathing returned to normal, he gently pulled out and shifted until his back rested against the hold. He pulled her against him and rested his chin on her shoulder.

  The blue sky passed above, while in their wicker hideaway she felt like the world, her life, her self was in unity. But it wasn’t only her—it encompassed the man holding her now as they relished this moment together.

  After a time, Loki chittered, and they glanced over. Loki lay stretched out, one leg bent, and the other resting against it, arms behind his head. He gave a thumbs-up to Phillip, the perfect posture of a creature at ease. But that wasn’t the most astonishing aspect of his demeanor.

  His armor lay piled next to him.

  She felt Phillip’s soft chuckle all across her back. She leaned her head onto his shoulder and locked with his vibrant blue eyes. “I love you,” she whispered.

  Epilogue

  On The Importance Of Family

  A month later

  “Do you see them yet, Loki?”

  Loki clung to a gaslight post above their heads, his hand shading his eyes, his body cl
ad in a dapper seersucker suit. Before them swarmed travelers and well-wishers on d’Iberville Airfield as the airship flight from Savannah disembarked. Behind her monkey, a crepe myrtle bloomed with lavender splashes, two sparrows balancing on a low branch, wings rustling and snapping to stay in place.

  Phillip stepped behind her and hugged her. She inhaled his scent. Her husband’s scent. A great big, God-I-love-him-so-much smile broke across her face.

  “How can he know what my sisters look like?” his voice rumbled in her ear, sending delicious shivers down her skin.

  She chuckled. “Don’t doubt Loki.”

  Beside her stood Rex, Great-Aunt Linette, and Father. Her chest swelled with pride and happiness, for Father had read her article and agreed to the surgery before he’d known about their engagement. Phillip had telephoned Louise straight away, and arrangements were made for their immediate passage. Now they waited only their arrival.

  Phillip stiffened. He broke away and stepped forward, and Adele searched the incoming crowd until she saw two well-dressed women, followed by a porter and a lady’s maid, aiming straight for her husband, huge smiles on their faces.

  One of them, presumably Charlotte, had a netting descending from her hat brim partially obscuring her face. But the relief and joy was evident in her features, as was her physical similarity to her brother.

  Adele stood back while her husband hugged each in turn, and delighted in seeing their looks of surprise at his outward display of affection.

  A gray patch covered one of Charlotte’s eyes, and her skin on that side was a mass of scars and ridges. She turned to speak to her brother, and the unmarred side showed in profile. She was quite stunning, creamy white skin, a rosy cheek, and her black hair in stark contrast.

  Adele braced herself, a little nervous at meeting his family. Phillip returned to her side and placed his hand at the small of her back. “And this is my lovely wife, Adele. Mrs. Adele Rawley, my sister Louise and my other sister Charlotte.”