Blessed Assurance

by Lyn Cote

  “Yes, but you must go slow and make well thought out improvements. As a woman, if you make mistakes, others will use them against you—saying you are incompetent to handle such weighty matters. What did your business advisor think of what you’ve done north of Monterey?”

  “He didn’t look pleased. Why should I care?”

  “If you take time to persuade, things will go smoother. You’ll be well thought of. I want you to have the kind of freedom I have. I associate with the intelligentsia as well as the fashionable and humble.”

  “I don’t believe I will want to associate with society. My aunt is well respected in Boston and we know the truth about her.”

  Linc shook his head. “My Aunt Eugenia is well respected in Boston, too. I’m going to send her the first issue of my journal. When she reads what you’ve done here, all of Boston will hear of it. My aunt may be a snob, but she has spent her life working to lift up the poor.”

  “Unlike my aunt.”

  Susan slid the pocket door open. “Linc, Del’s home.”

  Linc stood up and slid the papers onto the side table. “He’s in the kitchen with Kang.” Susan folded her hands over her waist. Linc strode out the doorway.

  Cecy had a physical reaction of loss to his leaving her. Her thoughts strayed again to Linc’s embrace and kisses this morning.

  Susan opened her arms. “Miss Jackson, I have a hug with your name on it.”

  Cecy walked into the large woman’s arms and rested her head on Susan’s cushiony-soft breast. “Oh, Susan, I never want another day like this.”

  Susan hugged her. “Some days live on in our memories.” Susan released Cecy. “Meg wants to see you.”

  Cecy brightened. “I’ll go right up with you.”

  “Good. I think I’ll just sit down in here and rest some.”

  “You’re all right, aren’t you, Aunt Susan?”

  Susan shuffled to the chair nearest the fireplace. “I’m an old woman and those stairs are getting me. Why this San Francisco have to be such an up-and-down place? Everywhere I go, I got to walk either steps or hills. Chicago was nice and flat.”

  Cecy chuckled, then felt the wonder of hearing herself. After all that happened today, she could still laugh. Cecy ran out into the hall and up the flight of stairs to Meg’s room. Before she could speak, Meg scrambled to her.

  “Miss Cecilia, how are you? Your mama’s sick.”

  Taking Meg’s hand, she let the child lead her into the room. “My mother’s going to be fine.”

  “I’m glad. I wouldn’t want you to lose your mama, too.”

  Cecy smoothed Meg’s dark hair off her sweet, rosy face. This child must favor her mother. This thought caused Cecy a moment of disquiet. Linc’s life with Virginia has nothing to do with me. “I’m not going to lose her, but she’s going to go away for a while for a rest.”

  “Aunt Susan needs to rest a lot, too.”

  “Oh?” Cecy heard the worry in the child’s voice.

  “Yes, she has to stop all the time on walks. And she cries, but she says being tired makes her eyes water.” Meg looked up into Cecy’s eyes with a serious face. “Del doesn’t live here anymore. I think that makes Susan cry.” Meg looked ready to cry herself.

  Recalling Nana’s sweet ways, Cecy sat on the rocker and coaxed Meg onto her lap. Holding a child in her arms was a new experience. “You mustn’t worry, dear.” How nice to have someone to call “dear.” “Your father will find a way to persuade Del to come home.” If anyone can, Linc would.

  “It’s because the kids at school called him names because he isn’t white like me. People don’t like you if you have dark skin. I hate that.”

  The child only spoke the truth. Cecy could imagine how cruel the children at school had been. Her mind went back to Clarissa Hunt’s phone call. Adults weren’t much kinder. “Don’t worry, Meg.”

  “Aunt Susan says faith is the victory,” Meg said.

  “Well, Susan would know more about that than I would.” Then Cecy indulged herself by hugging Meg close, rocking her. How blessed Linc was to have this sweet child as his daughter.

  Linc watched Del neatly “putting away” a stack of pancakes and a rasher of bacon. Kang poured Del a second glass of milk. Del looked sideways at Linc. “I’m sorry I ran away. That was bad.”

  Linc nodded, wondering what was coming next. Had letting the boy see how the other half lived worked? God, is he ready? Or had Del just come home, driven by an empty stomach?

  “But I like it down on the coast. Nobody picks on me.”

  Kang stepped forward and waved a spatula in Del’s face. “Nobody pick on you here.”

  Linc glanced with surprise at Kang. The houseman hadn’t ever come forward with an opinion about the family before. Del looked startled, too.

  “You do bad, treat father with disrespect,” Kang accused.

  “Linc isn’t my father,” Del objected.

  “He give you home, food, send to school.”

  “I can take care of myself now,” Del blustered.

  Linc thought Del’s milk “mustache” cost him some credibility, but Linc kept his peace. Maybe Kang could make Del listen to reason.

  “You get mad at school. Kids call you name because you colored. You think you the only one? They call Kang—‘stupid Chinee. Hey, dumb Chinaman.’ Kang no run away. Kang work and help family. When father die, he say, ‘Kang take care of mother and sisters. You good son.’” Kang put his hands on his hips. “Even dog know better than you. Dog do good to one who feed him.”

  Del stood up. “I don’t have to listen to you.”

  Kang pointed at the table. “Sit. Eat. You still full of foolishness. Someday you be sorry you show disrespect to father. Someday.”

  Linc stood by his desk in his office. Electric lights gleamed against the shadows of dusk. Cecilia removed her gloves and tucked them into the pocket of her matching cape. “Should we get started?”

  “Very well.” With the beautiful redhead in it, his office felt very small. He found it harder to breathe. Moments before he’d been alone—but not at peace. His thoughts had been a snarl of worry about Del, excitement mixed with dread over the launching of his new journal, and of course, Cecilia.

  He scanned his cluttered desk and picked up the sheaf of papers. He handed her a pencil, taking care not to touch her elegant fingers. He imagined turning her hand over and kissing her palm. No. He said in a businesslike tone, “Lightly circle any mistake you find.”

  “Shouldn’t I check my own articles?” She glanced up at him.

  “No, you’re less likely to see your own mistakes. Your mind fixes things automatically before you see them.”

  A tap at the outer door interrupted. Linc rose and opened it.

  Shocked, Cecy stood. “Fleur? Mr. Bower?”

  Fleur took both Cecy’s hands in hers. “How’ve you been?”

  Cecy looked to Mr. Bower. “Very well. But, sir, I have been so concerned for you.”

  “I’m much better. Please call me Clarence.”

  Cecy couldn’t take her eyes from Bower who stood a little behind Fleur. The emotions from that awful night rushed back through her. “I’m sor—”

  “Now, it wasn’t your fault.” Fleur stepped aside, so Clarence could bow over Cecy’s hand. “We know you’re completely innocent.”

  Linc quickly arranged four chairs into a cozy circle.

  “I’ve wanted to visit you before this,” Clarence said with his hat balanced on his knee. “But I wasn’t well and my parents insisted I take no action until my sister’s elopement had been accepted by society.”

  Cecy was shocked by his frankness and couldn’t reply.

  “You’ve heard that Hunt married Clarissa?” Fleur asked gently.

  Cecy remembered Clarissa’s nasty phone call. Clarence’s frankness made her brave. “Do your parents approve of the elopement?”

  “They have no choice. Clarissa would have been ruined if her marriage weren’t accepted.”

  Li
nc spoke, “What can we do for you?”

  Glancing sideways toward Clarence and Linc, Cecy compared the men. Clarence was still handsome in spite of the vivid red welt on one cheek. But Linc’s face showed strength and wisdom.

  Tugging off her pale kid gloves, Fleur replied, “We’ve been reading about what you’ve been doing at your canneries. It’s wonderful—exciting.”

  Cecy couldn’t hide her pleasure. “For the first time, I feel like I’m doing something important with my life.”

  Clarence edged forward on his chair. “And we want you to know that we’re going to do everything we can to smooth your way back into society—”

  Cecy’s heart jerked in her breast. “I don’t—” Fleur leaned over and touched Cecy’s hand. A large diamond ring on Fleur’s caught her eye. “You’re engaged?”

  Fleur blushed. “Yes, Clarence did the honor of proposing to me.”

  Linc cleared his throat. “Congratulations, both of you.”

  “Yes, I wish you both happiness.” Cecy meant the words.

  Clarence nodded. “We came to ask you to be Fleur’s maid of honor.”

  Chapter 15

  Cecy gripped the leather arms of her chair.

  Clarence lifted his chin. “Fleur and I hope it will further your acceptance back into society.”

  Cecy noted Fleur had lowered her worried brown eyes. “But shouldn’t your sister be matron of honor?”

  His handsome face tightened. “She’ll be near the end of her confinement by then.”

  Cecy felt ill. Victor Hunt, a father? No.

  Bridging his hands in front of himself, Linc leaned forward; his voice calm. “I understand your generous motive to help right the wrong done to Cecilia, but you may do a lot more harm than good. Why not wait until your sister recovers from her confinement? Passing over Clarissa for someone your sister views as a rival may cause hard feelings that could linger for years.”

  “Linc’s right. And we all know what kind of man Victor is.” Cecy didn’t want Clarissa cut off from help as her mother had been. “Your sister will need your support…” Discretion stopped her.

  “I’ve already warned Hunt I’ll visit my sister often.” Clarence gave her a look filled with meaning. A few more moments of polite conversation, then the happy couple left. Cecy stood next to Linc at the office door, watching the elevator doors close. “I didn’t believe you when you said they would assist me back into society.”

  “I was proud of you just now.” He rested one hand on her shoulder. “Your first thought was for Clarissa.”

  “I pity her. I pray she doesn’t suffer from her poor choice.” Her tone spoke of her own pain.

  Linc touched her cheek. “You don’t have a very high opinion of marriage.”

  She reacted to his soft touch, her breath catching. “Would you if you were me?”

  The coldness of her tone pierced Linc, an icy needle through his heart. Did she doubt him, too? He’d started letting go of his guilt over losing Virginia. Could Cecy ever let go of her distrust of men? His voice dipped lower as emotion expanded inside him. “What if someone fell in love with you?”

  She faced away from him and with a harsh imitation of worldly wisdom said, “No one will ever love me—except for my money.”

  Under the sarcasm, he heard the deeper pain. Just as he’d clung to his own grief, she didn’t want to believe she was lovable. He stepped nearer. The creamy skin of her nape glowed in the light. His words came out hoarse and low. “My own inheritance is more than I’ll ever need.”

  She didn’t turn to him.

  Leaning forward, he let his own breath caress her neck, just below her ear. He drew her shoulders back to him. The wool of her suit sensitized his fingertips. He whispered into her ear, “I love you—you, headstrong, passionate, innocent woman. You’re too young for me and I vowed never to forget my wife, but I love you. I believe in God and the work He’s given me. You have no faith beyond yourself. Yet I…love…you.” He turned her by her shoulders—fraction by fraction. Then his lips brushed hers.

  Cecy felt lighter than air—as though she might drift away from the earth. She slipped her arms around his neck, then she lifted herself on tiptoe so she could return his kiss. His enthralling kiss. She felt him loosen her hairpins. Her hair slid free.

  With one arm, he cradled her head. With the other, he drew her hair forward over her shoulder. “You always smell of spring flowers.” Lacing his fingers through her silken hair, he turned his head and kissed her parted lips.

  Linc, Linc. All the jagged, sharp edges of her shattered emotions cried out for his restoring touch. His insistent lips wandered down her neck. Each tender kiss, each feather-soft caress soothed, healed her.

  She floated on the warm tide of the sensation. All the operas she’d ever sung had glorified love, passion. Was this what Madame Butterfly experienced in the arms of her American officer? Was this love, temptation? Was this what brought joy, then tragedy?

  She pulled back, her hands pushed forward fending him away. “No. I want no man’s love.”

  “Even mine?” His gaze held her motionless.

  “Even yours.” She turned her back to him and gathered up her wanton hair, twisting it back into place. “I will never marry.”

  “And I never thought I could love again. I’ve changed. You’ve changed.”

  “Don’t love me, Linc.”

  He stared at her back, stiff and resolute. “Please forgive me. It won’t happen again.” Each polite word cost him.

  Without a backward glance, she sat at her desk.

  Linc stared at her. My love for you must come from God. I never sought it. I love you, Cecilia, for better or worse, for richer for poorer, until death do us part. Just as only death parted me from Virginia, my first love, not my last.

  In the brightly lit, crowded restaurant at their table for four, Cecy couldn’t take her eyes off Linc, devastatingly handsome in evening dress. Fleur sat to her left; Clarence to her right. Lucchetti’s, done in red, white, and green, the first-ever Italian restaurant for Cecilia and Fleur, had been Clarence’s choice for their dinner date.

  After the last round of gossip over her mother’s illness and her own new profession, Cecy hadn’t wanted to appear in public with Fleur. Both Effie Bond and Bonnie LaRoux had called to give her sympathy and encouragement. She’d felt their concern was genuine, not society’s insincere show. Perhaps she could have that kind of easy entree into every level of society as Linc. Still, Linc’s kisses haunted her day and night.

  “Cecilia.” Fleur touched her hand and nodded discreetly to the side.

  At Fleur’s hint, Cecy glimpsed Mrs. Ward and Ann sitting down at a table to their left. Cecy’s pulse sped up. She glanced forward, knowing she’d find Linc gazing at her. When she recalled his fingers lacing through her hair, she felt thankful that her hat’s veil hid her blush.

  Linc experienced a stab of regret, longing. The woman he loved sat across the table from him—unreachable. She might as well be standing on the other side of the Pacific. Life and love are so fragile in this fallen world. Let me love you, Cecilia.

  “Both of you, we’d still love to have you come to our wedding.” Fleur glanced at each of them in turn.

  Linc waited to see what Cecilia said.

  Cecy took a sip of her tea. “I’ll see how my mother is.”

  With a flourish, the white-aproned waiter brought a large wooden bowl of lettuce, tomatoes, and green onions and tossed their salad at the table. Taking her first bite, Cecy savored the tangy dressing. She turned to Fleur. “Are you going to hear Caruso sing?”

  “Oh, I would love to.” Fleur nodded.

  A motion to Cecy’s left froze her in place. Oh, no.

  Linc glanced up to see Mrs. Ward and Ann approaching their table. Why did they have to come here tonight of all nights? He rose politely.

  “Miss Jackson, we thought that was you.” Mrs. Ward’s piercing voice cut through the hubbub of the restaurant.

  Claren
ce stood; Linc clutched his napkin like a weapon.

  “Good evening, Mrs. Ward, Ann,” Fleur greeted them.

  Cecilia remained frozen.

  Mrs. Ward gushed to Fleur, “Are you celebrating your engagement with Miss Jackson and Lincoln?” Mrs. Ward offered Clarence her hand. “Lincoln, I just received a letter from your dear Aunt Eugenia. She’s so excited. Everyone in Boston’s read your first issue.”

  With a swirl of ostrich feathers, the lady turned back toward the table. “But your article, Miss Jackson! Your description of those poor babies brought tears to my eyes. Didn’t you agree, Ann?”

  Ann nodded. “I think you’re wonderful, helping people—”

  “Yes, such good work,” Mrs. Ward finished for her. “Cecilia,” the matron lowered her voice, “I’m so sorry your mother had a relapse.”

  Cecy nodded woodenly.

  “When she is home feeling better, I’ll call. I’m sure she’d love to join our embroidery circle.”

  Cecilia barely nodded once more.

  Mrs. Ward leaned close to Linc’s ear in a flutter of ostrich feathers. “Tell Cecilia her aunt didn’t receive a warm welcome in Boston.” The lady turned to her protégé. “Ann, I think we should go back to our table now. Archie will be joining us—Oh! There he is. There may be another engagement announced soon.” She tittered, then waved, returning to her table in a flurry of feathers and well-wishes.

  Linc and Clarence took their seats. Fleur whispered, “Such a sweet lady, but she does talk so.” Clarence laughed out loud. “Hush,” Fleur hissed, “I declare you’re embarrassing me.”

  Linc glanced across at Cecy. Had she heard what the lady had said of her aunt? He caught Cecy staring wistfully at Fleur.

  “Rats.” Cecy hit the leather dashboard of her runabout with both her hands. Around them the city hurried about its business under the clear April sky. Rain appeared imminent. “I could spit nails.”

  Linc agreed, but grinned at her colorful phrase. “You know what’s happening, don’t you?”