by Bess McBride
“You are a mystery to them, John, that’s for sure. An enigma. You are to me as well, and you always have been.”
John paused and turned to look at her.
“Whatever do you mean, enigma? In what way? Though you have known me only a short time, you may very well know me as well as anyone, perhaps better. Tell me then, how am I an enigma? I do not think I wish to be such.”
Gem searched for words. She had lost her courage the other day when contemplating disclosing her theory of his parentage, and she had said nothing.
“Well, as you say, I’ve only known you a short time, John, and I probably know you as well as anyone. That’s not good.”
To Gem’s surprise, John cupped her cheek in his palm.
“But you have known me for the entirety of my life. You know when I was born, though perhaps not to whom. You know my career, my place of residence. You know the date of my death and the location of my tombstone. Who would know me better?”
Gem’s knees weakened as his fingers traced the line of her jaw before he dropped his hand. His touch, infinitely gentle and tender, moved her deeply, and she wanted to press herself against him, to feel his arm around her.
But she blinked rapidly and fought against the urge. She didn’t think she could bear the possible rejection, the stiffening of his body that she had seen so often when he was disturbed or offended.
“Oh, John,” she whispered sadly. “You deserve more.”
John held out his arm, and Gem took it again.
“More than what?” he asked.
“More than a solitary existence.”
John fell silent, and Gem regretted the starkness of her words.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dramatize your lifestyle.”
“No?” His voice was gruff.
“I’m too judgmental. Really.”
“I do not sense that about you. I hear deep concern in your voice. You have long considered me as a distant ancestor. You know my life’s story. I regret that you saw it as solitary, that you still see it as solitary. I do not know if I have the will to change that outcome, if it is even possible.”
Gem tightened her grip on his arm.
“Anything is possible, John. I’m pretty sure I’m living proof of that.”
“Indeed you are.”
Chapter Thirteen
John opened his eyes to the gray light of predawn breaking through his bedroom curtains. He slipped his arm behind his head and stared at the ceiling above the bed.
Gem’s words troubled him. Solitary existence. While he had experienced solitude, even loneliness, he had not envisioned his life over the past few years in such stark terms.
But Gem had knowledge that he did not. As if she was some sort of seer, she knew the extent of his life, and the concern in her voice pained him to his core.
He didn’t want her to think of him as some sort of friendless, unsociable curmudgeon who led a “solitary existence.” He was not prepared to join in every imaginable social event in town, but neither did he want her to see him as a lonely hermit.
He wasn’t certain why, but her opinion mattered more to him than that of anyone else, including his brother. And she pitied him. He heard it in her voice, and he couldn’t bear it. He wanted more than anything to earn her admiration, not her pity.
Gemima Holliday, descendent.
No, he corrected himself, not a descendent of his, according to her.
Suddenly anxious to go down to breakfast, he rose from bed. Pulling his dressing gown down from its place over the full-length oval mirror, he paused before slipping it on. He rarely studied his body in the mirror. He hated everything about it. He forced himself to look.
What woman could ever love a man as disfigured as he? He could not even wrap his arms around a woman, could not hold her waist as they danced, could not enfold her in a warm embrace in wintry weather. He could barely maneuver an automobile, and only then with assistance.
The ragged scars at his shoulder disgusted him. The scars that ran down his face and neck, despite the beard, repulsed him. In fact, he did not care for facial hair, but he maintained it to cover his facial disfigurement.
He turned away, shrugged into his robe and made his way down to the bathroom. While washing up, he focused on the vision of Gem and the beautiful dress she had worn the previous evening.
By the time he emerged from his room, fully dressed, his mood had lifted, and he hurried down to breakfast. Gem had not yet arrived.
Sally turned to him as he entered the breakfast room.
“Good morning, John. Is your guest still sleeping in this morning?”
Her disdainful tone grated on him. He shook his head in annoyance and scanned the open doorway before replying.
“What on earth has set you against Miss Holliday, Sally? It is misplaced, inappropriate, and I forbid your rudeness!”
Sally was not cowed. He had admired that about her, but at the moment, the character trait irritated him greatly. He had been too lax with his housekeeper for too long, allowing her too many familiarities.
“I am certain it is none of my business, John, but since you ask, I will speak freely.”
John never doubted that she would.
“I think she is after your money, John. I do not know how she came to find you, but I think she is an opportunist. And further? I do not believe she is related to you at all. I see no resemblance. I have been with this family since before you were born. I have never heard of Miss Gemima Holliday!”
John, on the point of opening his mouth to rebuke his housekeeper’s impertinence, stopped short as Gem spoke from the doorway.
“Morning,” she said, staring at them with wide eyes.
“Good morning, Gem,” John said hastily. “That will be all, Mrs. Stanton.”
Sally had known John long enough to understand his anger when he addressed her thus. At the moment, that was all he could do in Gem’s presence. Sally nodded brusquely and turned for the door. Gem stepped back uncertainly, and Sally bustled through the doorway.
“Please accept my apologies, Gem. I fear you overheard our conversation. I will speak to Mrs. Stanton at length. It is not within the realm of impossibility that I might dismiss her.”
“You mean fire her?”
Gem’s expression of distress surprised him.
“Yes. She has been utterly rude to my guest.”
John pulled out a chair for Gem, who sat.
“Well, she thinks I’m here for your money and that we’re not related.”
John, settling into his own seat, sighed.
“I had hoped you did not hear the entirety of her comments. I do apologize. I think now that dismissal is likely. She has been with my family longer than I have been alive. My family has been her family, and she came with me to Montana. But this behavior is absolutely intolerable from a servant.”
John took some tea and a piece of toast, but in general, he had lost his appetite. So apparently had Gem. He did not like to see that.
“Please eat,” John urged. “I cannot allow the housekeeper to distress you so. I simply cannot.”
Gem bit her lower lip in an uncertain manner.
“What is it? You appear to hesitate. Say anything you wish, Gem.”
“Please don’t fire her. I admit you probably have to talk to her, but not because she’s sort of rude to me. I’m sure she has her reasons.”
He studied her face, which he knew, even at the early stage of their acquaintanceship, was guarded.
“And what reasons do you think those might be?” He was interested in Gem’s thoughts on the matter far more than his housekeeper’s motivations, which he suspected were just the product of too much familiarity, his own laxness in maintaining appropriate limitations and the housekeeper’s confusion between mothering and keeping house.
“Her reasons?” Gem picked up her tea to drink.
“You are prevaricating, Gem? Why?”
She set her cup down and raised troubled eyes.
“I don’t want to say. I could be wrong. It’s just a feeling. I have no proof.”
“Tell me,” he urged. “Whatever it is that you hold close appears to trouble you.”
Gem looked up at the ceiling for a moment and then returned her gaze to his face. Her cheeks shone with high color.
“You said she’s been with your family since before you were born.”
“Yes, that is true.”
“Since before you were born,” Gem repeated, eyeing him pointedly.
“So you said, and I agreed.” He puzzled over her expression.
“Oh, gosh, John! I was hoping you would just guess so I don’t have to say it.”
“I am not normally considered obtuse, but I do not understand your hints or the rather charming quirk of your eyebrow as you attempt to convey your unspoken thoughts.”
“What?” Gem blinked, as if she had lost her train of thought.
“Can we not speak plainly, Gem? You have shared so much with me already. I had hoped we had a better understanding.”
Gem nodded before dropping her eyes to her lap.
“What if Sally is your mother?”
John thought he must have heard wrong.
“I beg your pardon?”
Gem raised her head to search his face. “I know. I’m just throwing that out there. I understand it sounds bizarre, but it would explain some of her protectiveness.”
“You believe Sally to be my mother?” he repeated almost dumbly.
“I don’t know,” Gem said hastily. “I don’t know at all, and there’s really only one person who does know.”
“Sally,” he said in bemusement.
Gem nodded silently. John ran an unsteady hand across his eyes.
“Was it only two days ago that you told me my parents were not related to me by blood? And now you suspect that Sally is my mother?”
Gem bit her lower lip again.
“I don’t know who your parents are.”
A thought crossed John’s mind, and he drew in a sharp breath.
“Do you believe that Sally and my father...” He declined to finish the sentence. “If that were true, then you and I are actually related? Please tell me that is not so!”
Gem shook her head hastily.
“No, we’re not. Remember, I’m related through your mother’s line, the Hollidays. Well, your acknowledged mother, Amelia Holliday Morrison. I’m related to Harvey, but not you.”
A strange sense of relief eased the constriction in John’s chest, and he breathed. Of course, such distant connections were of no consequence. Cousins married all the time.
He gave himself a quick shake.
“What am I thinking?” he murmured softly.
“About what?”
John looked up, dismayed to discover that he had spoken aloud.
“Nothing,” he said. “So you are certain that you and I are not related by blood.”
“No, I’m sure we’re not.”
John nodded, inordinately pleased.
“I admit to being stunned at your suspicions.”
“Well, like I said, it could explain why she’s so protective. She’s definitely a mother hen.”
“Indeed. She always has been.”
“Do you think—” Gem began to ask but stopped, as if searching for words.
“Do I think what?”
“Do you think she’s a reason you’ve never married?”
Gem’s timid expression startled him.
“I mean, is it possible that she’s run other women off?”
“Run other women off?” John repeated dumbly. “There have been no other women to run off.”
“You know what I mean,” Gem said.
“I am afraid I do not. We have already discussed this...this obsession you seem to have with my future, my romantic life, if you will. I have made my choices, Gem. I do not think my housekeeper, even if she is in truth my mother, could affect that decision. I learned very painfully that romantic love is a superficial, mercurial thing which does not last.”
John instantly regretted his bitter words, even more so at the droop in Gem’s face.
“I’m sorry. I keep butting into your business. You’d think I would have learned by now.”
“No, I must apologize. I am forever snapping at you on this subject. I admit that I do not understand why you fret so much about my single state, but I do not believe Sally has any effect on it at all.”
“I think I should just keep my mouth shut.” She reached for her teacup.
John wanted to reach out and cover her hand, but he resisted.
“No, I wish you would not,” he said.
Gem smiled, although weakly. He picked up his own cup and stared into it.
“I wonder what my brother knows.”
“About your parentage?”
“Yes.”
Gem shook her head. “Probably nothing. Why would he?”
“He always knows more than I. He shares that with you. You are related to him after all, are you not?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think you came back in time for a specific purpose? Or was it simply happenstance?”
“I don’t know. If so, I wouldn’t know to what end. Not just to tell you about your parentage. Or to bug you about getting married.”
John wanted to laugh. Instead he coughed.
“No, of course not.” Privately, he wondered if indeed she had been sent back to sway his decision to avoid marriage.
Chapter Fourteen
Gem didn’t push the subject of John’s parents any further, especially her thoughts on Sally. If John wanted to ask Sally, then he could do that. She felt sure he would tell her if he did. Not that it was really any business of hers.
John had gone to his office, and Gem stared out the window, at loose ends. Whenever she was out of John’s presence, she wondered how she was supposed to get back home. But when John was around, those thoughts subsided into the recesses of her mind.
Gem hadn’t left the house yet without John, but she was restless. She tacked on the smaller of the two hats, the black one that matched her black skirt, and she went downstairs. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Sally speaking to a young twenty-something maid who polished the wood railing in the foyer. Gem had hoped to leave the house unnoticed, but that was not to be.
“That’s fine, Mary,” Sally said. The housekeeper turned toward Gem as she strode toward the door.
“Are you going out?” Sally asked. “What should I say if Mr. Morrison asks about you?”
“Well, he’s at work, right?” Gem didn’t wait for an answer. “Yes, I’m going out. Bye.”
She didn’t wait for a response and wouldn’t have welcomed one. Gem had mixed feelings about Sally—at times sympathetic, often irritated and occasionally intimidated. She didn’t know if she would ever get along with the housekeeper.
She set off down the road, heading for downtown. Hoping that she passed for normal, she did her best to ignore her skirts trailing in the dust. She wanted to bunch them up to her knees to keep them clean, but no one else did, so she didn’t either.
She reached the business area within fifteen minutes and slowed her pace, wondering what she could do with herself. She didn’t dare go into the café alone for a cup of coffee. She hadn’t seen any women dining in there alone.
She spied the local three-story hotel and wondered about stopping in there just to look around. Mrs. Yates’ dress shop also appealed to her, a familiar place where she thought she could browse alone and without comment.
Undecided, Gem felt awkward standing on the boardwalk while people passed her, nodding and bidding her good day. She found herself near the entrance to John’s office, but didn’t want to pester him. She’d already been a burden, and she didn’t want to remind him of that fact.
The large brick train depot opposite beckoned her, and she crossed the road to go inside. But the door was locked, a small handwritten sign tacked to the door noting th
at the writer was out to lunch and would return in an hour. Gem had no idea what time the note had been written, and she debated waiting.
“Gem!” a voice called out to her. She turned.
John hurried across the road, hatless without his jacket on. His shirtsleeve was pinned to itself.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m just wandering around. I hope that’s okay. They’re closed for lunch.” She indicated the sign.
“Why are you here at the train station? Are you trying to leave?” John came close to her, his breathing fast.
“What? Oh, no! Well, not today, that is. I don’t know. Do I have a choice?” Gem turned to look at the building. “Do you think I can just get on a train and go home?”
She felt a hand go around her arm.
“Come away,” John said, his baritone deep. “We can discuss this in my office. I was just about to come take you to lunch.”
John led Gem away from the station and across the street.
“I saw you from the window,” he said. “Again.”
“For a busy man, you sure stare out of the window a lot.” Gem smiled as they climbed the stairs to his office.
“Not normally. I wish the train station were located elsewhere, or that my office was. I must be prescient when it comes to you.”
“Good day, Miss Holliday,” Cedric said, jumping up on their entrance.
“Hello, Cedric! It’s nice to see you.”
“You too, ma’am. Can I get you something to drink?”
“We are just going to lunch, Cedric. Thank you,” John said.
He led Gem into the office and shut the door.
“Why did you go to the train station?”
“Like I said, I was just wandering around.”
“Is anything wrong at the house? Has Sally been rude to you again?”
“No,” Gem said. “I’m just restless.”
“Are you so restless that you wish to leave?”
“I don’t know if I have a choice, John. I don’t know how to go back through time.”
“But if you could, you would?”
Gem noted the intensity in his voice.
“Probably. I mean, yes, I would go home.” She wondered if she was lying to herself. If she went home, she would never see John again.
