Autumn Lady

by AnneMarie Dapp

  Betty placed her hand on Mara’s shoulder, motioning her to stand. The congregation was rising as the church procession made its way down the aisle. Mara quickly stood to sing aloud with her neighbors. It was a beautiful Mass, led by an elderly priest with a gentle voice and an aura of kindness. His Homily was inspiring. He spoke of forgiveness and Christ’s great mercy, but her mind kept drifting back to the image of the parlor, and the dancing lights. After Communion, Mara quietly prayed for her departed parents, her new friends at the boarding house, and that Patrick would be safe during his boxing matches. She also said a small prayer for herself, that she might overcome the challenges of her new life.

  Outside the church, Mara and Betty chatted while they waited for Joshua Cohen to drive them home.

  “Did you have a nice dinner with Mr. Deane last night?”

  “Very nice,” she said, looking down at her hands. When she looked back up, Betty was grinning.

  “You look so happy.” She paused for a moment, her green eyes widening. “It must be such a magical thing…to have someone look at you the way he does.”

  “It’s all so new and exciting. I’ve never felt this way before. It’s strange but it feels like we’ve known each other forever, and now that we’re together, I can’t help but worry about him. Betty, he’s boxing tonight. What if he gets hurt? I don’t what I’d do if something happened to him…” her words trailed off as she looked back down at her hands.

  “That must be terribly worrisome, but he’s been boxing for some time now. It’s not his first fight and probably won’t be his last. I know it’s hard, but try to have some faith. Maybe say a prayer or two.” She smiled reassuringly. “Are you going to watch the fight tonight?”

  “Oh, I don’t think I could bear it. I didn’t get much sleep last night; I was a little excited after our dinner,” she said looking down the street. “I think I’m going to read my new book this afternoon and try to go to bed early.”

  Betty nodded and smiled. A carriage soon made its way down the quiet road, pulling up alongside them. Joshua Cohen climbed down and helped the women to their seats. Mara noticed the way Joshua occasionally stole glances at Betty during the ride back, but she seemed completely oblivious to his attention.

  The three friends spent the remainder of the day in the parlor reading books. By the late afternoon, Mara’s mind was flooded with images of Patrick’s beaten body, surrounded by faceless strangers. She skipped dinner, turning into bed early and retrieved her rosary from the nightstand. Quietly, she recited her Hail Mary’s and Our Father’s praying for Patrick’s safety. She slipped in and out of sleep, fitfully, never fully resting.

  At midnight, she heard footsteps on the stairs. She slipped a robe over her nightgown and opened the door. Patrick moved gingerly up the steps, his eyes widening as he saw Mara at the top. She let out a gasp as a sliver of moonlight slipped over his face. Dark purple bruises covered his right eye; his bottom lip was swollen and bleeding.

  “Patrick!”

  He made his way over to her, trying to put on a brave face.

  “Oh, no! You’re hurt,” she cried, her eyes traveling over his darkening bruises.

  “Darlin’, it’s nothing. You should have seen the other guy,” he whispered with a grimace. “I won the match. It’s all good.”

  “Oh, Patrick, you poor thing.” He reached down, gently pushing the loose curls from her eyes. He looked down at her hands and a smile spread over his face.

  “What a good girl, sayin’ your rosary before you hit the feathers. You’re a sweet one, you are.”

  Mara noticed him wincing. “Can I help you, Patrick?”

  “I’m afraid that I’m a bit of a mess.”

  Mara walked him back to his room. When the door was closed, her eyes darted around nervously. She had never been alone in a man’s bedroom before. He smiled gently, trying to put her at ease.

  “Why don’t you sit there on your bed, and I’ll get you some cool water.” The corner of his mouth rose. “You don’t’ have to ask me twice.” Mara’s face blushed as she imagined what it would be like to join him. She busied herself with the water pitcher, wetting one of the hand towels. She carried it back along with a dry one and examined his bruises.

  “The blood is seeping through your shirt.”

  “I guess it is,” he said, looking down.

  “Maybe you better take it off so I can wash off the blood.”

  She looked away as he pulled his shirt over his head. His chest was damp with perspiration, and flecked with streaks of blood.

  “This might hurt, I’m afraid.” She carefully washed his face, the cool water rolling over his bruised skin. He winced when the cloth touched his black eye, but smiled all the same.

  “You have a nice touch,” he said, gazing at her face. She smiled and continued to clean his wounds, her hands traveling over his muscular arms and chest. Her heart quickened with the intimacy, never having been so close to a man’s bare skin.

  When she was satisfied, she said, “Well, I guess I should probably get back to my room and let you get some sleep. You’ve had a long night, and we’ll have some work tomorrow if you’re up to it.”

  “Oh, I’m up for it,” he said, his voice thick and heavy.

  They looked at each other silently, hearts racing. He reached for her hands and guided them to his shoulders. His right hand gripped her waist as he lowered her onto his lap. Her robe fell open. His muscles in his thighs felt taut underneath her legs, as well as his manhood, which pressed against her, and took her breath away. He kissed her fully on the mouth, his eyes looking into hers, his lips traveling over her throat, caressing the wispy material covering her breasts. Mara lost herself in his embrace. She felt his hands gripping her shoulders, gently pushing her down onto the bed. Their chests pressed close, so new and yet strangely familiar. There was little separating them as he pulled her even closer. Her body began to awaken with an overpowering desire, and she couldn’t imagine being anywhere other than his arms, in his bed, and with this, she was at peace. Her hands traveled longingly over his muscular body, they were greedy to get their fill, her mouth eagerly accepting his kisses and demanding more. And then, when she could barely contain herself, he slowly pulled back as if awakening from a dream. Patrick sat up quickly.

  “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me,” he said with a hoarse voice.

  Mara’s head was spinning, and she was not ready for the moment to end.

  He reached for her hands and helped her to her feet.

  “You’re a good girl. I’m so sorry, lass. I should never have been so forward. I’m afraid I lost control…you’re just so beautiful…I couldn’t help myself. Please forgive me.”

  He looked at her with such pain and regret that Mara couldn’t help but feel guilty.

  “No, it’s not your fault…it’s mine. I’m afraid…I don’t know what came over me.”

  Something of a smile surfaced on Patrick’s face. Looking somewhat relieved, he brought her hands to his lips. I’ll make sure not to take such liberties in the future. I’m so sorry, my love.” He escorted her back down the hall, a bit to Mara’s disappointment, and stopped at the threshold of her bedroom door.

  “Goodnight, little rose. I’ll see you in the morning.” He gave her a small peck on the forehead before heading back down the hallway.

  Mara watched with a heavy heart as he made his way into his room. The door closed with a terrible finality. It was as if miles were suddenly separating them. She felt uneasy considering her conduct, being taught at an early age that a lady should never be alone in a man’s bedroom, unless of course, that man was her husband, but there was another part of her that wanted to throw those teachings out the window and discover what she’d been missing. It took a long time to fall asleep that night, tossing and turning, her body yearning for something she was only beginning to understand. When the rooster crowed outside her window, bringing the cool morning light with it, she felt reborn. She sighed deeply
, stood up straight, shoulders back, and readied herself for the new day.

  Chapter 10

  Mara and Patrick arrived late to breakfast Monday morning. Sarah’s eyes widened when she saw the bruises on his face. She took notice of the couple’s nervousness and wondered if something was wrong. She’d been aware of their growing fondness for one another and hoped things would work out for them.

  She turned to Patrick and said, “You’re welcome to use the surrey today, since you’re planning to work on the new gallery. I imagine that it might come in handy if you have to pick up some supplies.”

  “That’s very kind, Miss Levy. My friend Junjie will be lending me a cart for the next couple of weeks, but I won’t have it until tonight. So, that works out perfectly.”

  After breakfast, Patrick helped Mara carry her paints and supplies to the surrey. An uncomfortable silence fell over them as they drove along. Mara wished she’d never followed Patrick back to his room last night. He seemed so distant now, almost a stranger.

  It was a relief when they arrived at the gallery. At least, she had something to distract her from the growing tension between them. Mara took out her key and led them inside. Patrick was quiet as he examined the peeling wallpaper, water leaks, and rotting floorboards.

  “Oh, boy. Your landlord wasn’t kidding when he said this property needed work. The water damage alone is going to take several days to repair.”

  Mara’s heart sunk when she heard this. Everything seemed to be going downhill in a hurry.

  “Is it too much for you,” she asked, trying to hide her dismay.

  “No, I can handle it, but I might need a little help with painting the walls if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course not.”

  “Well then, let me head back over to the mercantile shop and pick up some supplies. Now that I’ve seen the damage, I have a pretty good idea what we’ll need to fix it.”

  “Alright. Let me give you some money.” Mara reached for her pocketbook and handed Patrick some coins. “Let me know if you need any more. I can go to the bank on the way home.”

  Patrick looked uncomfortable when he took her money, a brooding look in his eyes.

  “I’ll be back shortly,” he said, quietly.

  When he’d left, Mara walked around the room, trying to picture where she’d place the new paintings.

  She was busy sorting through her art supplies and didn’t hear the door open. When the footsteps approached, she looked up anticipating Patrick. Instead, Mr. Williams stood by the front entrance, gazing in her direction. His face still held the same somber expression she’d seen at the bank, but there was something different about his eyes. There was a bit of a sparkle in them, almost softness.

  “Miss McClain, it’s a pleasure to see you this morning. I was in the neighborhood and thought I might stop in and see how things are coming along.”

  Mara was disappointed to see her landlord. Although things were a bit awkward with Patrick, it was far more comfortable to be alone with him than Mr. Williams.

  “What a pleasure, Mr. Williams. My friend just left to get some supplies. He’s hoping to have the repairs completed within the next couple of weeks. If we’re lucky, I might have my grand opening by the end of the month.” She smiled, trying her best to appear confident.

  “Well, that’s splendid, it sounds like it’s working out rather smoothly. Very good.” He stared at her as if trying to memorize the details of her face. His expression was a mixture of longing and regret.

  “Is everything alright?”

  He was quiet for a moment, and then seemed to gather himself.

  “Yes…and please call me James.”

  The door suddenly opened with a blast of cold air. Patrick backed inside the room with his arms full of lumber. A few fall leaves blew in from the street, scattering across the damaged floors. He carefully set the planks down, smiling, and then his expression turned to shocked disbelief.

  “Patrick Deane, this is my new landlord, James Williams.”

  The men stood in silence, eyes locked. Mara looked back and forth between them, wondering what was the matter.

  Patrick walked over and stood in front of Mara in a protective manner. “I know Mr. Williams. Yes…we met many years ago, in Kinvara.”

  James’ mouth narrowed down into a thin line. His eyes grew dark, no longer showing any hint of softness.

  “Oh, yes, I do believe I remember you. One of the Deane boys. Your family couldn’t manage their farm properly, nearly lost it due to gross neglect.”

  Patrick’s face reddened, and his eyes grew so dark that she feared for her landlord’s safety, but all she could seem to do was stand there, frozen in shock.

  “No, you son of a bitch, your family took advantage of a terrible situation. You enjoyed torturing the villagers with your constant pay hikes, and when that wasn’t enough, you had our healthy crops shipped overseas. You knew people were starving, and you did nothing. Your family took everything, the wheat, the money, and then when there was nothing left, you kicked the farmers out of their homes, leaving the rotten potatoes in the fields. I had to move away to help pay their bills. They were starving by the time I made it to America. You turned a bad situation into a tragedy. If you hadn’t sold the farm when you did, I don’t know what my family would have done. The new owners were generous folks. They allowed us to share the wheat crops and vegetables while we recovered from the famine. We paid them back, with interest, and why don’t you tell Miss McClain the reason that you sold your properties?” Patrick’s eyes were filled with blind rage, the veins bulging out on the sides of his neck.

  Mara moved between the men. She worried if Patrick didn’t calm down soon, he’d wind up getting locked in a jail cell. “Please, there must be some misunderstanding.”

  Mr. Williams looked at Mara, put on his hat and gloves, and then walked towards the door. “I’ll be checking in later to see how the repairs are going. I’ll ask you to keep this peasant out of my way when I return. Good day.”

  He slammed the door behind him.

  Patrick paced back and forth, trying to calm himself. Finally, he turned to Mara and looked down at her with such sorrow that her heart tightened.

  “Please, Patrick, what’s happening? I don’t understand.”

  He suddenly swept her up in his arms, kissing her forehead and then her mouth, so urgently, and with such passion, her legs felt they might buckle.

  “Mara, I can’t have anything happen to you. I just can’t. I’ve waited my entire life to find you, and I can’t watch this happen again.”

  “What are you talking about? I don’t understand.”

  He released her and paced back and forth, taking deep breaths to calm himself.

  “Mara, you remember when I told you about growing up in a little town in Galway Ireland. In Kinvara?”

  “Yes, I remember.”

  “Well, I didn’t want to say too much about why I left…because the memories are quite disturbing.”

  “I’ve heard about the Famine,” she said gently, taking his hand in hers.

  “Yes, hearing about it and being there are two different things, my love. You see, it didn’t just happen overnight. It began with the potato crops slowly failing, but not all at once. There would be talk about a neighboring farm losing some crops, and then it would start to spread. Once the blight really set in, it struck out like wildfire. Many of the villagers were tenement farmers, like my family. We relied on our potato crops as our main food supply. Our lands were divied up. Our share was quite small compared to the landlord’s holdings.”

  “You said Mr. Williams was your landlord?”

  “Yes, but there’s so much more to the story. Not all of our crops failed. There were other vegetables and grains available. We had wheat growing healthy and strong on the south side of the property, but the potatoes were our main staples for cooking, especially during the winter months when the wild herbs and berries were scarce. Without them, we had trouble paying our rent
s, and our main food source was gone. Landowners were not happy about losing money. So, they started shipping the healthy crops over to England, sometimes America. The Williams’ family was exporting every last piece of grain from their properties, including my family’s farm. This left my parents and neighbors in a terrible situation. We couldn’t pay our rents, so we kept getting further behind, crawling deeper into debt, until we were left with hardly any food for ourselves. The potatoes were rotting in the fields, while the healthy crops were exported overseas.

  “And the potatoes could fool you. They’d look fine at first. You’d gather them up, and think you’d found some good ones, but once you cut into the flesh, a puff of pungent smoke would rise, and they’d be black as tar inside. They were completely inedible, and so people were starving to death. Children starved. My God. Pray that you never witness the pitiful sight of starving children.” His eyes glassed over and he looked away.

  “There were little ones walking around the village with bloated bellies, begging and crying in the streets. I was a teenager when it happened. Against my family’s wishes, I stole aboard a ship one night, heading to America. The crew figured out after a few days at sea. They took mercy on me, and I was given a chance to earn my travel to America. I did all kinds of odd jobs onboard. Once we landed, I grabbed whatever work I could find. I learned carpentry skills along the way, eventually became apprenticed. And so my work helped to keep my family afloat for a while. Thankfully, another owner took possession of our land before they lost everything. This was about a year after I’d left.

  “The new owners were high standing citizens in the community and quite wealthy. They bought up all of the Williams’ properties when they went on the market. They were compassionate, and gave my family time to get back on their feet. We eventually managed to pay back our debts and keep the farm.”