“All right,” Gilbert still half chuckling, “Where should I start?”
“How would I know. I don’t know the story,” Emma said firmly, “Most people start at the beginning.”
“You think I’m stupid don’t you?” He asked.
“Gettin’ there,” She said sincerely. “Maybe, if you tell me what you remember about Aunt Molly.”
Gilbert decided to take control of the conversation and tell her what he remembered about her aunt Molly. It actually felt good to Gilbert to talk about her. He was able to recall things he hadn’t thought about before. Things like, how she smelled, how she kissed him goodnight, watching her cook, her comforting smile. The thoughts he was getting, were blurry since these things happened so long ago and he was so young. This was the first time he really wanted to think about the way she was.
He was just beginning to run out of things to say about his mother, when the dinner bell rang for them to go inside to eat. Emma had listened intently the whole time Gilbert spoke about his mother. He appreciated her listening to him talk about her so he had to give her a hug.
“Owe,” she cringed slightly, “What’s that for?”
“I just wanted to show my appreciation to you for being such a good listener.” He said happily.
“I’ll remember that.”
Dinner went well, Gilbert offered to help clean up, but Rachel brushed him away.
Gilbert planned to try to find Clara’s home the next morning. He needed to contact her secretly somehow. He informed Robert he may be up early to walk around town. He then said goodnight to the family and got an extra big hug from Emma. He went upstairs to bed and fell right to sleep. It was a sleep different than ever before. He felt happy and comforted for some reason.
The next morning, he got up as the sun rose. The sun’s reflection was bright and glistening off the river as he stepped out onto the front porch. He started to walk north along the street. He had Clara’s address, but wasn’t sure where her street could be found, in this much larger city than Independence. He stopped at a harness shop as it opened for the day and asked where he may find the address. The man at the harness shop was very helpful in directing him to the address. The Groober’s home was not far from the Morresey’s home, but it was down the hill.
When he got there, it was too late to catch Clara on her way to school. So, he was content to find the house and hang around until she returned. As he watched the house, he noticed the maid answering the door whenever they had a caller. He thought of how he could get a message to Clara without drawing attention.
He had lunch at a nice Café near the Groober’s home. He found an inconspicious place to watch the Groober home and soon Mr. Groober left the house. Gilbert was sure the maid would answer the door if he were to call.
Clara had told Gilbert the housekeeper had once stumbled onto some of his letters. The housekeeper in question did not inform Clara’s parents of the letters. Clara often told Gilbert she confided with the housekeeper many times. Gilbert was gambling the housekeeper might recognize the situation and help him.
He wrote a note on a piece of paper and went to the front door. He used the fancy brass knocker to knock on the door three times. Soon after he knocked, a very pleasant maid answered the door.
“Hello, may I help you?”
“Yes you may,” Gilbert said, “This is very important, and I don’t want to cause any problems for you or Clara. But Miss Clara has some friends in Independence that just had some bad news. They really need to speak to her in private without her parents knowing, please.” Gilbert quit talking in hopes the maid would understand. The maid looked back into the house then stepped out onto the porch.
“Gilbert?” She asked quietly.
“Yes,” he responded surprised, “Can you make sure Miss ‘Goober’ get’s this.”
“Of course,” she said as she took the note and casually gestured him to go away.
As Gilbert walked away he could hear Mrs. Groober inside call to the maid. “Who was that at the door?”
“A young man needing directions, ma’am.” Gilbert heard as the door closed. He went to a nearby park and hung around until Clara would be coming home from school.
Clara started walking the half mile home by herself, but soon a young gentleman ran up behind her and just about knocked the books out of her arms. It was Frederick and Evon Moritz’s son Arthur. The young men were not well accepted by Clara. She had been bothered by them in the past and was getting very tired of the attention.
“Hello, Clara,” Frederick said light heartedly.
“Hello,” she said with little enthusiasm, “Arthur.”
“Can I walk you home again?” Frederick asked.
“You ask me that every time and I always say no.” She said sternly, “It never stops you from walking with me, because, as you say it is a free country and you can walk wherever you like.”
“Yup,” he said. Frederick yapped the whole time as they walked to Clara’s home. She didn’t say much and quickened her pace to get home sooner.
Gilbert didn’t know which direction Clara would be coming from. He was on the wrong end of the street when he saw her approaching from the north. He saw her walking with Arthur and another fellow instead of chasing her down, he stepped back behind a tree to watch. When they got close to the house she ran for the front door. Gilbert was sure she wasn’t romantically involved with either of them, by the way she ran for it.
Clara slammed the door shut behind her, she let out a gasp of relief. Her mother was near the door. “Clara!” Mrs. Groober called out to her, “take it easy.”
“Yes,” she yelled as she ran up the stairs to her room.
“We will be eating early today.” Clara stopped on the third step to listen to her mother. “Your father will be leaving early in the morning for Chicago. He wants to turn in early. You should turn in early so you can see him off in the morning before school.”
“Yes mother,” she continued up the stairs to her room. She worked diligently to finish her home work before dinner. When called down stairs by her father she was excited to eat what ever was making that aroma. It was her favorite dinner, a slow roasted ham with cranberry sauce and baked potatoes. Her parents were politely waiting at the table when she sat down. Clara placed her napkin on her lap.
The maid came over to Clara, “Sorry Miss Clara, I have a clean napkin for you. The other napkin had a smudge on it.” She folded back her cloth napkin to expose a piece of paper so that only Clara could see it. When the maid saw Clara had seen the paper she folded the napkin back over it. Clara knew better then to expose the note to anyone, especially after the way the maid had presented it to her.
Clara pulled her napkin toward her lap and conveniently dropped it on the floor. She had to duck under the table to get it and while she was down there she pulled out the note and read it.
Meet me at the big tree in the park.
She understood where to go, but was not sure who had sent the message. As she contemplated who had sent it, her father addressed her. “Clara, did you lose something?”
Clara banged her head hard on the bottom of the table as she sat back up. Her mother and father both cringed with concern for the nasty blow she took on the head. Her mother asked, “Are you all right, dear?”
Clara, rubbing her head and fighting back painful tears, squeaked out, “I’m fine.”
“It sounded awful,” her mother added.
When Clara recovered from her bonk on the head, she looked toward the maid, hoping to get a clue. She wanted to make sure it wasn’t Frederick, who had written the note. The maid was pouring her father’s drink. She looked to Clara and nodded very slightly one time. The maid went to her mother to serve her drink then went to Clara.
As she leaned over to pour Clara’s drink she whispered in her ear, “The gentleman said to make sure Miss ‘Goob
er’ got this.” Her eyes popped open and the pain from the bump on the head went away.
“Rose,” Mr. Groober addressed the maid, “we don’t speak softly at the table in this house. I demand to know what you said.”
Rose looked at him patiently and spoke kindly, “I asked miss if she would like an ice bag. For her head, sir.”
“Clara, you looked frightened by her whisper, why?” Her father asked.
“I,” Clara stumbled out, “thought she said, ‘Would miss like some pie?’”
He certainly did not understand the scenario, but went along with it, “Oh,” he simply said as he started to eat his dinner.
“Grace, honey,” Mrs. Groober said as she folded her hands to pray.
“Of course.”
Mrs. Groober said a short prayer, but Clara could not have quoted one word from it. She was deep in thought, trying to come up with the perfect excuse to get out of eating dinner. Then she would need to come up with an excuse to get her out of the house. She thought and came up with the most ingenious excuse that would not cause any question or problem.
“Amen,” her mother said.
“Amen,” Clara and her father said.
In desperation Clara blurted out, “I’m not hungry, excuse me, please.” Clara bolted out of the dining room. Her father was astonished and was taken by such surprise he didn’t have time to yell at her to return to the table. She left the house through the front door and walked briskly to the park. She wasn’t aware of any big tree, but the park wasn’t very big. As she approached the park she looked intently for Gilbert.
Gilbert had been waiting for hours and had made himself comfortable sitting at the base of a large tree. She saw him sitting under the tree facing the river. He hadn’t seen her approaching, giving Clara the idea he wasn’t so excited to see her. Clara slowed her quick excited pace to a calm, leisurely lady-like stroll. He sensed her approach and turned to see. She couldn’t keep herself calm, once he had seen her, so she started running toward him. He got up quickly and ran to meet her. They met without hesitation, a clasping hug of affection ensued in silence.
“What are you doing here?” Clara asked.
“I’m here visiting my relatives.”
Clara’s face showed surprise as they separated enough to look at each other, “You have relatives? I didn’t know you had any relatives.”
“I didn’t either,” Gilbert explained the whole scenario.
Clara suddenly got a serious look on her face, “I am sorry about your mother.”
“It seems you are always there for me when I really need you.”
“You have been my hero since we were eight. You found it in your heart to sacrifice your time and effort to save a horse that meant something very dear to me. Even after I treated you like you were something dug out of the ground. You will always be my hero. I want to be yours as well?”
He thought for a moment, then responded, “All right.” Then he took her by the arm and started to walk down a path, “Let’s go for a walk.” Clara told him she had to get home early, but planned to come back later when she was able to sneak out of the house.
She went home and when her father went to bed early, she snuck out through the upstairs window. They found a place to sit and talk through the night. The next morning Clara snuck back into her house and saw her father off at the train station that morning. She was so keyed up and excited she didn’t appear to be a person that had been up all night. Gilbert invited her to have dinner at his aunt’s house the following night. They planned to meet at the park again the next afternoon to walk to his relatives home. She told her mother she was going to do some drawings and wouldn’t be home until later.
Gilbert met her, and they walked arm and arm to the business part of town. The area was at the base of a high hill that appeared to go straight up. Clara explained to Gilbert, “The Mississippi river was cut by large moving glaciers millions of years ago. Those glaciers left many high cliffs in this area.”
“I noticed there was a small trolley takes people up the hill.” Gilbert said.
“Yes,” Clara pulled him around with her arm interlocked with his, aiming him toward the trolley he had spoke of. “It was built by a local banker Mr. J. K. Graves, so he could get to work and home much faster than by using the road. He opened it up for public use after he had to rebuild it because of a fire in July of Eighty-four.”
Gilbert paid the five cents to ride the trolley up the hill. They entered a very small building at the bottom and waited for the car to come down. As it came down Gilbert noticed the cable car was being lowered and raised by a large rope. He thought the car was pretty heavy and the rope seemed inappropriate for the task. Obviously the cable car had been operating for many years without incident, so he shouldn’t be afraid. He didn’t say anything about his fears to Clara. The trolley clanked down the hill and stopped at the base building next to them.
The trolley was built at an angle to match the slope of the hill. It was a strange feeling sitting on seats that appeared to be more of steps then seats. Once seated with their backs to the side of the trolley an attendant rang a small brass bell. The trolley jerked as it started it’s ascent to the top of the hill. It shook and clanked up the hill, giving Gilbert a very uneasy feeling. Gilbert didn’t feel comfortable going up the hill, as the small building below them shrank away. The hill was very steep and he tried not to show his fear by watching the scenery along the path. When he saw the beautiful view of the city and river, his fear melted away.
Clara was smiling and thoroughly enjoying the ride up the hill, “Isn’t this great. You can see so far it’s almost like you are flying.”
“Yeah,” he responded in agreement. The view was exquisite, the whole city of Dubuque, the oldest city in Iowa, was there at their feet. A few church steeples poked up out of the streets below. When they reached the top Gilbert noticed the trolley was powered by a steam engine similar to a train’s engine.
They went to the Morrisey’s to have dinner. They were greeted at the front door by Robert. “Did you two have a good time?”
“Yes, sir,” Gilbert said, “Mr. Morrisey, this is Clara.”
“Call me Robert, please,” he addressed both of them. “Please make yourselves comfortable on the porch, it may be a half an hour or so before dinner is ready. I’ll bring you out some lemonade.” Gilbert and Clara went out to the porch and sat together on a love seat. Emma looked at them through the front screen door.
Gilbert noticed her, “Hi, Emma,” he said, “come out and sit with us.” Emma slowly opened the door, staring at Clara, who was smiling pleasantly at her. She did not say anything as she let the wooden screen door slam shut behind her. She walked over to them and knifed her way between them. Clara moved over cordially and Gilbert politely got up and reset himself further over, not to crowd the three of them. It was a tight fit.
“Emma, this is Clara.”
“Hi, Emma,” Clara said with a smile. “Have you been climbing any trees today?”
“You’re Gilbert’s courting girl?” She asked harshly.
“Yes, I am.”
“Do you really love him?”
Clara was feeling a bit awkward at the young ladies questioning. Gilbert was enjoying the conversation and found it a very interesting question. “Yes, I do.” Clara said firmly, yet politely.
“So do I,” Emma said as she squinted her eyes at Clara.
Clara tried to ease the situation by saying, “We can both love him.”
“No, we can’t.” Emma said tartly, “One of us is going to have to go. There isn’t room on this seat for three of us.” Emma started to squirm around attempting to crowd Clara into the arm of the seat.
Gilbert was about to step in and address the problem when Clara looked at him for assistance. Christina came out of the house carrying two full glasses of lemonade. “Get off that seat Emma.
”
Emma refused to listen to her. When Christina handed Gilbert and Clara the two glasses of lemonade. Emma asked, “Where’s mine?”
“Get it yourself,” Christina said with a hateful tone toward her sister. Emma hopped off the seat and ran into the house.
“Great,” Christina went back into the house. Robert came out and sat on a nice chair across from Clara and Gilbert. They engaged in a friendly small talk conversation. Gilbert explained a lot of his past life with Robert. He had talked to Rachel about things before and wasn’t sure how much she had told him. Gilbert told him to stop him if he was telling something he already knew. Robert then began to ask Clara questions. Clara was kind about answering, but reluctant to explain just who she was, in case he knew her father. The questions did not get personal enough to be a concern to her.
Emma then returned and sat on the porch floor staring twinkle eyed at Gilbert and from time to time, giving Clara the evil eye. They were soon called in for dinner by Christina. They were getting seated at the table when Rachel brought in a plate of fried chicken. Followed quickly by the grandmother with a plate of mashed potatoes. The house smelled wonderful from the aroma of the cooked chicken. Gilbert pulled a chair out for Clara to sit. The table was filled with foods, there were two kinds of breads, there were grapes, cheeses, carrots and celery. The settings were obviously of better quality than what had been on the table the night before.
Gilbert’s grandmother, Ethel, placed the potatoes down and as she approached her chair, Gilbert gentlemanly pulled her chair out for her. She was impressed and thankful.
Emma stood waiting for Gilbert to pull her chair out for her, but Gilbert walked past her without a thought. Emma’s heart sank with disappointment. But before she could hang her head Gilbert returned and pulled her chair out as well. Emma slipped into her chair as elegantly as she could while giving Clara a victory look. Clara hid a small chuckle. She wasn’t sure if she should pretend to be upset to please Emma.
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