Nell thought of Buddy calling her Miss Nellie Blue-Eyes, but she didn’t tell Claire. She’d never told anybody about Buddy’s nickname, not Aunt Lucy, not even her grandmother.
“Mr. Moran’s not still a hired man, I take it,” Claire said. The two had gone into the kitchen to prepare dinner. Claire had brought home two chops from the butcher shop, and she breaded and fried them as Nell snapped beans and brought a pan of water to boil on the stove.
“Hardly. He’s a banker.”
“Wade Moran,” Claire mused. “It sounds like a banker’s name. It seems familiar, too.” She frowned, thinking, then turned away from the stove to where Nell was slicing tomatoes. “I think I read about him in the newspaper a couple of years ago. Is he … did he have a wife and child, a daughter maybe? Were they killed…? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Yes, he’s the one. He told me all about it.”
“I remember that it was awful. Some drunk hit them in his autocar. The story was in all the papers, because it was so unusual. Horseless carriages were awfully rare then, and I’d never realized they could kill. I mean, there are always runaway horses and wagons injuring people, but I’d never heard of an autocar running over anybody. It must have been terrible for him.”
“It was.”
“He got some sort of settlement. Did he tell you about that?”
Nell had finished slicing the tomatoes she had picked from the garden and was putting them on a plate. She shook her head.
“I don’t remember the details. The man who killed them was someone important.” Claire thought a moment. “No, he was somebody’s son, some politician. I don’t recall if Mr. Moran sued or what, but he ended up with a pile of money, several thousand dollars, I think. Anybody else would have kept it, but he bought up some land, and then he built a playground on it. I think he named it for his wife, or maybe it was his daughter.”
“And he gave it to the city?”
“No, he was too smart for that. He gave the city a long lease, something like ninety-nine years. That way the city has to maintain the playground but can’t tear it down or sell the land. Clever, isn’t he?”
“He didn’t say a word about it.”
“I’d like him for that.” Claire used a fork to remove the chops from the pan and place them on plates, which she set on the table.
“He helped my grandparents,” Nell said as she drained the beans and dumped them into a dish. “Without him, they might have lost their farm.”
“Like I said,” Claire repeated, “he’s quite a catch.”
* * *
The blue silk dress fit Nell just fine, but Claire said her friend needed something to finish it off, so the two went to a millinery shop to buy a hat. The hats were gigantic, as big as turkey platters and covered with feathers, not just ostrich plumes and egret feathers but whole birds—pigeons and wrens and red-winged blackbirds, “anything that chirps,” Nell observed. She selected a hat that looked like an upside-down serving bowl, with a chiffon crown and gigantic satin bow. She was self-conscious about the size, but when she walked into the dining room of the Savoy with Wade, she found herself looking at a sea of large hats decorated not only with birds but with flowers and bunches of fruit. Her hat was right at home.
Wade pointed to a couple seated at a table next to a palm tree in a huge pot. The woman’s hat was even larger than Nell’s. “I hope you don’t mind. I’ve invited a colleague and his wife to join us,” Wade said.
“No, of course not,” Nell replied, although she was disappointed. She had decided she would tell Wade all about herself that night. She’d tell him about Buddy and what had happened and about James and how she had been taken in. Wade was a banker and very proper, and if her past offended him, he could drop her right now, before either of them wanted to go beyond friendship. But it was hardly a conversation she could bring up with a fellow banker and his wife.
Indeed, she would have shocked the couple if she had, Nell decided after she had talked to them for a few moments. Wilbur and Helen Harris were gracious but very proper. Helen was sipping sherry, and without asking Nell what she wanted, Wade ordered the same thing for her. He and Wilbur asked for whiskey for themselves. Nell didn’t care for sherry at all now and would have liked whiskey, but she was afraid the others would disapprove. So instead, she sipped the too-sweet drink.
Helen complimented Nell on her hat and the blue dress, and began talking about her children. Then she confided she was chairwoman of a ball that would be one of the social events of the year. The proceeds would benefit St. Anthony’s Home for Infants, Helen explained. She lowered her voice. “I should not tell you this since you will be shocked, but many of those children were born out of wedlock.” She leaned back and nodded.
“And you don’t approve?” Nell asked.
“Well, I certainly don’t approve of their mothers. But the children, they are very sweet.”
“The sins of the fathers…” Wilbur smiled.
“It is the women who sinned. But I don’t believe the children should be blamed. Do you?” Helen asked.
“Certainly not,” Nell said.
“The little bastards.” Wilbur smirked.
“Wilbur!” his wife said.
“Are they ever adopted?” Nell asked quickly.
“The lucky ones. The others we train, mostly as domestics. They’re quite satisfactory,” Helen replied.
“Our Helen is quite the organizer. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind your help,” Wade interjected, and Nell wondered if Wade’s wife had been involved in charitable works. Of course she had. It was the proper thing for a banker’s wife to do. And then Wade added, “Abigail was good at such things.”
“I would indeed like you to help,” Helen said, and Nell thought she meant it. “But I doubt you have the time, being a new woman.”
“A new woman?”
“Oh, you know, a feminist. I’m told you have a profession.”
“Oh,” Nell said, relieved. She didn’t mind being called a feminist, but Wade frowned at the word.
“She’s not a professional. She’s just a teacher,” he said. “I thoroughly approve. Besides…” He stopped. Nell was sure he was going to say that besides, Abby had trained to be a teacher.
“Perhaps you’ll be interested later on. After you’re married,” Helen said, looking pointedly at Wade. Nell reddened and looked down at her sherry glass. After a few minutes, when the men were caught up in a conversation of their own, Helen whispered, “I should apologize for shocking you.”
“Oh, but you didn’t. I know about illegitimate children. They’re not unique to Kansas City.”
“No, of course not.” Helen glanced at the men, who were still talking, and lowered her voice. “I mean about suggesting you might marry—might marry Mr. Moran, that is. But you see, we’ve worried about him. It’s high time he found someone to replace Abigail. I have introduced him to ever so many lovely young women, but you are the first one he’s seen fit to ask out. I hope you like him, as he obviously cares for you.”
Nell was saved from answering when Wade turned to her and said, “You lived in New Mexico, didn’t you? Wilbur was just telling me about a rancher who has applied to us for a loan for his—what did he call it, Wilbur? His ‘outfit’? Funny word, isn’t it? We’ve begun looking at the Southwest. It’s quite the coming area. We already have several ranchers as clients. This particular man was a Rough Rider.”
Nell hoped the others didn’t see her flush. Her hands were damp inside her white gloves, and she picked up the sherry glass and played with it.
“I don’t suppose you’d know the man—Oscar Garrison.”
Nell shook her head, relieved, for her first thought had been that the rancher might have been Buddy. But that was ridiculous. New Mexico was a big territory with hundreds of ranches. Still, the question made her curious about how Buddy had financed his ranch. Probably with Alice’s money. Or rather her father’s money. He was a banker. He would have been hap
py to loan his son-in-law money to buy property.
“You lived in New Mexico? How exciting,” Helen said.
“My aunt lived there. I spent almost a year with her.”
Wade leaned forward and grinned. “She was a hired girl.”
Nell shot back, “And Wade was once my grandparents’ hired man.” Then she muttered, “We were both ‘professionals.’”
“Oh my! I rather like that,” Helen said. She glanced at her husband, who frowned at her and shook his head. She ignored him and said, “And I worked as a waitress.”
“Oh, but I did, too,” Nell told her.
“That is, before Wilbur rescued me and I became a prim and proper wife,” she said, and even Wilbur laughed.
Nell decided that Wilbur might be stiff, but under her banker’s-wife demeanor, Helen was still someone she could enjoy. They might even become good friends if she and Wade … Nell glanced at her date, who smiled at her with approval.
Later, as they left the hotel, Helen took Nell’s arm and said, “Wilbur may be a banker by day, but at night … well, he is not always so formal. Perhaps Mr. Moran is not as stuffy as he appears.”
Nell hoped she was right.
* * *
One Sunday after the school year had started and they had been seeing each other for several weeks, Wade called for Nell in a buggy and took her for a drive through Kansas City. After a time, he stopped at Forest Park, an amusement park that was shuttered for the season. They walked along the tracks of a scenic railroad, and Wade pointed out the monkey house and the laughing gallery. The place reminded Nell of Elitch Gardens, and she remembered the afternoon she had spent there, ducking into the café nearby to get out of the rain. It might have been the nicest time she had had in Denver.
Wade was talking, but Nell didn’t hear him, and in a moment he said, “You are far away. What are you thinking about?”
Nell shook her head to rid herself of the memory of that afternoon at Elitch’s. “Just thinking of Denver. This reminds me of a park I visited there. It’s not important,” she said.
Wade studied her for a moment. Then he pointed. “There’s the carousel. It’s quite the attraction. Have you ridden one?”
“No. What a pity it’s not operating. I should like to try it. Have you ridden it?”
“Not yet. It’s fun, at least that’s what they tell me. When I saw it, I thought how much Margaret would like it. I think she would have chosen to ride the pink horse with the gold mane. The animals go up and down, you know, and there is a giant calliope that plays when the carousel is turning. Abigail loved music.”
“You’ll always think of your wife and daughter when you see things they’d like, won’t you?”
“Wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, I suppose.” They had walked around the park, and Nell felt tired and climbed onto the carousel and sat down in a carriage that was painted gold with big white feathers on the side. She closed her eyes and raised her face to the afternoon sun.
A caretaker approached and told them the carousel was shut down for the season. Wade slipped him a coin and said the lady was tired and just wanted to sit for a few minutes. The caretaker disappeared, and Wade sat down in the coach beside Nell. “It’s a proper coach for a fine lady,” he said.
“Well, I’m hardly that.”
“You’d have to convince me otherwise.”
Nell turned and faced him. “Then perhaps I should. You don’t really know me. You told me about yourself, and now it’s my time to talk.”
“Nell, I hardly think—”
“No, I believe you ought to know certain things, and then perhaps you will not want to see me again.” Nell looked away and stared at a blue pig, at its ears where the paint was nicked. “I was going to tell you before, but then, well, I didn’t. It’s not easy.”
“I doubt—”
Nell held up her hand. “Please. This is not easy for me, but I want to tell you now, before we grow fond of each other.” She gripped the side of the carriage with one hand and turned to Wade. “You see, I am not so innocent as you might think.”
“If you must,” he said, “but it’s not necessary.”
“Yes, it is.” Nell leaned back in the carriage and began. She told him about Buddy, about the night in the cabin and then how they had fought and separated. She told how she’d been attacked in Denver and James had rescued her, how he had turned out to be a polygamist and she had almost married him, had almost been poisoned by a jealous wife. It was the first time she had talked about Emily, and she felt a weight lift from her when she was finished. She liked that she could share the story with someone. “So you see, I have something of a past, and I believe you ought to know about it.”
The telling had taken a long time. The sun that had been shining when they sat down had gone under the clouds, and the day had turned cool. The wind came up then and swirled discarded newspapers and dead leaves about the carousel. Nell shivered and pulled her coat around her, then removed her gloves from her purse. She started to put them on, but Wade took them away from her and held her hands.
“But I did know about it,” he said. “Everything, except for the polygamy and the poisoned cake. Everything. You didn’t have to tell me.”
Nell looked up at him. “Everything? How could you?”
“Yes, everything. Your grandmother wrote me. She told me because she did not want me to call on you if I disapproved. She didn’t want you to be hurt again. I’m glad you told me, and I believed you would sooner or later. I knew it all before I ever met you, however. Your honesty makes me admire you even more, and I already admired you a great deal.”
“You don’t think I’m easy, then? I will not make that mistake again. I do not intend to be with a man that way until I am married.”
“I approve entirely. I like you awfully well already, Nell.” He patted the side of the carousel coach and said, “Perhaps someday we will ride off together in our own golden chariot.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Wade called on Nell each week. Sometimes he took her for a buggy ride about the city or under the high bluffs or along the Missouri River. Once they went aboard a steamboat and watched the workmen load freight, then rode across the river to the Kansas side and back. Wade took her to museums and the symphony, and often they went for long walks, even after the weather turned cold. Wade gave her a cunning little fur muff for their outings in the snow. He said that when summer came, he would take her to see the Kansas City Blue Stockings play a baseball game. She’d never seen a baseball game; James hadn’t been interested in sports, and the cowboys were as likely to run around a bunch of sandbag bases in their boots as they were to tap dance.
Nell suggested they go to one of the music halls where they could hear jazz. She’d been told it was the newest craze, and she’d heard the music being played on the street. But Wade said such places catered to thugs and prostitutes and he wouldn’t want to expose Nell to them. She didn’t tell him that she had met prostitutes when she was a waitress, and they weren’t much different from anyone else, only maybe a little nicer—and certainly better tippers.
Sometimes Claire went on the outings with Nell and Wade, which pleased Nell, because Claire did not have a regular beau. The three of them attended the flickers or walked to the drugstore for ice cream. Claire was discreet and asked Nell once, “Do you really want me tagging along? You can tell me the truth.”
“Of course I do,” Nell said, and she did. She appreciated Wade’s thoughtfulness and his generosity, but the truth was, he bored her a little. He was stiff and too formal and sometimes made suggestions about how Nell should act or dress. At times, she wondered if he was trying to turn her into his first wife. He spoke of Abigail less often when Claire was with them, so Nell sometimes had a better time when the three of them went out.
Then Claire met a young man of her own, Steve Sorel, and on occasion the two of them double-dated with Nell and Wade. While he was funny and self-assured, as handsome as a motion pic
ture actor, Steve was also flashy and too forward. Neither Nell nor Wade cared for him much. Nell believed he thought too highly of himself, and Wade said that Steve lacked decorum, often drinking too much and making loud, sometimes blasphemous remarks. Steve liked to hold Claire’s hand or put his arm around her shoulder at the movies. Wade had never done that, and Nell knew he didn’t approve. Nell herself thought such gestures were improper, then laughed at herself, wondering if she was getting to be too much like Wade.
Of course, she did not say anything to Claire, because Claire enjoyed Steve, although she seemed uncomfortable when he got too familiar. She laughed at his jokes and loved his gifts of chocolates and perfume. Nell was all too aware that it was difficult to meet eligible young men, although she hoped that Claire didn’t have to settle for less than love. But then, Nell asked herself, was she willing to do just that?
The two talked about it one Saturday afternoon as they sat in the front room sewing. Nell was making a quilt while Claire stitched on a shirtwaist.
“Do you think there is such a thing as true love?” Claire asked. “You know, like in the magazine stories or the flickers, a love that makes you give up everything for a man?”
Nell looked up. “Yes.”
“You know for sure?”
Nell nodded. “I’ve loved two men that way. You wake up every morning thinking what a wonderful place the world is. You see him, and it’s like the day has dawned on a golden sunrise. You think you’ll burst from happiness.” She looked down at her sewing. “And when it doesn’t work out, you are wretched. You believe you’ll die. In fact, you want to.”
“That’s how it was with you?”
Nell nodded.
“You don’t feel that way about Wade, though.” It was a statement, not a question.
“I wish I did,” Nell replied. She wished her heart caught when she saw Wade or that she got that feeling of wanting when he touched her hand, but she didn’t. “Maybe it doesn’t matter. It might even be a good thing. I couldn’t bear being hurt like that again. I’m very fond of Wade, and I think that might be enough.” She gave a wry laugh. “I didn’t do so well with true love, as you call it.” Then she asked, “How do you feel about Steve?”
The Patchwork Bride Page 22