by Keli Gwyn
No response.
Meghan turned from fussing with her hair. “Natalie?”
Tears streamed down Natalie’s cheeks, and she let the pages of her letter fall to her lap. Her hands came up to cover her face. Silent sobs shook her shoulders.
Meghan dropped the hairbrush and knelt by the chair. “What is it? Are you all right?”
She shook her head, still trembling. A small, keening sound escaped her throat, full of pain and fear.
“Did you get bad news from home? You’ve been so quiet since you got that letter, and here I am babbling on like a silly nitwit.” She rubbed small circles on Natalie’s back, chastising herself for not paying better attention.
After a moment, the worst of the storm passed, and Natalie’s muscles eased. Slowly, she lowered her hands, revealing tear-stained skin and drowning eyes. “I know I shouldn’t, but I have to tell someone.” Her voice rasped, sob-roughened. “Can you keep a secret? I mean, never-tell-a-soul-not-even-if-your-lifedepended-on-it keep a secret?”
Sitting back on her heels, Meghan studied her. “What is it? Are you in trouble? Is something wrong at home? You can tell me, and you know I’d never repeat it.”
Natalie took a shuddering breath and gripped the letter in her lap. “I have someone at home who is very ill. Her medical bills are so large I had to leave home to find work. I tried to find a job near her, but nothing I was qualified for paid enough to make much difference. Then I saw the advertisement for becoming a Harvey Girl. I applied, and I volunteered to come to Needles because of the bonus pay.”
Meghan chewed her lower lip and took Natalie’s hands, squeezing them. She’d taken the Harvey job more as a lark, an adventure, a desire to see more of the world than Mantorville, Minnesota, and to do something bigger and more challenging than helping out in the family business and waiting for someone to come along to marry her. And here was Natalie, far from home where she was needed, trying to earn enough money to help with a relative’s medical care. And she’d never said a word, never complained, carrying the burden all alone.
“I’m sorry you’ve got an ill relative, but why is it a secret? Lots of the girls here send money home to help out. There’s no shame in that. Is this relative’s condition worse?”
Natalie swallowed and freed one of her hands to wipe her cheeks. She pressed her lips together, as if battling with herself. Finally, she whispered, “The sick woman is my mother-in-law.”
“It’s an honorable thing for you to help your mother—What? Mother-in-law?” Meghan lost her balance and toppled onto her backside. She braced herself on her palms, sprawled in an unladylike heap. “Mother-in-law as in…?” She gulped. “But that would mean…You’re a widow?” A frown tugged at her forehead as she grappled with this notion.
“No, I’m not a widow. At least I pray I’m not.” Her eyes closed, and a wave of pain contorted her features. “My husband is a soldier. By now he’s in Europe.”
“You’re married?” Her voice squeaked.
“Shhh! Not so loud.” Natalie made a damping motion. “Do you want the whole hotel to hear you?”
“I’m sorry.” Meghan lowered her voice and straightened her limbs until she could wrap her arms around her updrawn knees. “It just caught me so off-guard. Married. No wonder you want to keep it a secret. Have you been married long? How did your husband feel about you leaving your family to take this job?”
“Derek has no idea I’ve left home. Things happened so fast. We were already engaged when America entered the war, and we decided to marry before he enlisted.” A shiver rippled through her slight frame. “He wanted me to have his pension if anything happened to him. He left for training, and while he was gone, his mother had a stroke. I had left my job as a store clerk when we got married, and they hired someone else in my place. In any case I knew that salary would never cover hospital and doctor bills. When I saw the Harvey ad, I jumped at it. Derek got leave to come home and visit his mother for a few days before he shipped out, and we, his parents and I, decided we wouldn’t tell him I was leaving for California. He had enough to worry about. He returned to his unit the day before I met you in Chicago to come here.”
“Oh, Natalie.” Meghan pressed her fingertips to her lips.
“I know. I’m breaking all kinds of rules. If Mrs. Gregory found out, she’d have me on the first eastbound train. But she can’t know. I can’t lose this job. My salary and Derek’s army pay are supporting all of us. My father-in-law is elderly, and it’s all he can do to take care of his wife. He can’t work. I have to stay here, at least until Derek comes home again.” Her blue eyes swam with tears and worry. “You won’t tell, will you?”
“Of course not. I’m only sorry you didn’t tell me sooner. Here I’ve been blathering about silly things like dances and dresses and such, and you’ve been worrying about your mother-in-law and your—it seems so strange to say it—your husband. No wonder you look so pale and drawn all the time. And you’ve the appetite of a finch, down to skin and bones.”
“Sometimes I think I’ll go mad with worry, but I’m so thankful for this job. It keeps me busy; I can’t worry too much while I’m working, and I’m making far more money than I could at home, and I send almost all of it back there. I only wish I didn’t have to lie to Mrs. Gregory or to Derek. If he knew, he’d be crazy with worry. He’s always been protective of me, since we were kids. One of the last things he said to me before he left was how glad he was that I was safe with his parents. That he rested easier knowing we were together and taking care of each other.”
“How do you keep it secret from your husband?”
“I write letters to him and send them home to Springfield. His father sends them on for me. When one of Derek’s letters arrives there for me, they pass it along here. We can only hope no one from home writes to him, at least until after I’ve made enough to cover the medical bills and Genevieve is doing better.” Natalie glanced at the clock. “We’d better hurry and dress. I wish I didn’t have to go to this social. The last thing I feel like doing tonight is dancing with strangers.”
“Maybe we can work something out so you don’t have to. There’s always the refreshment table, though after a day of serving food, you probably don’t want to do that either.”
“Actually, if it meant I could get out of dancing, I’d serve punch until sunup.”
A half hour later, they walked out onto the loggia. This wide, covered seating area on the second floor was reserved for hotel guests and provided an excellent place to view the rugged desert hills surrounding the town. Festive lanterns illuminated the open area reserved for dancing, and a long table held a punch bowl and a variety of cookies and cakes prepared by the bakery that day. A small cluster of musicians optimistically calling themselves the Needles City Orchestra tuned up, and Harvey Girls fluttered around like brightly colored flowers with nary a black dress or starched apron to be seen. More guests drifted up the stairs, local men and women in their Sunday best. Meghan spied Mr. Weeks from the department store and waggled her fingers his direction. He had a smiling woman on his arm whom Meghan took to be his wife.
Mrs. Gregory sailed across the floor in a dark blue dress with black beading along the bodice and down the front of the skirt, clapping her hands for attention. She’d powdered her face and wore a bit of lip rouge, which made her look a bit softer, especially under the light of the paper lanterns.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming. I’d like to give you a few instructions as to how this social will work. First, note the donation box on the end of the refreshment table. All proceeds go to support the Red Cross, and we ask you to be generous. As many of you know, this is a dime-a-dance social. So all the ladies, if you will pick up dance cards from Miss Ralston”—she waved to Jenny standing by the conductor—“and gentlemen, you are free to either pay each lady for a dance or you can settle up at the end of the evening. We want you all to have a good time and to dance a lot. Remember, every dime you donate is a blow against the Ka
iser.” She fisted her hand and swung it upward in a little arc as if bopping the German leader in the nose.
Meghan, her mind still ruminating on Natalie’s surprising disclosure, waited her turn to pick up a dance card. All the while, she scanned the room. Boys of sixteen or seventeen huddled together, eyeing the girls. Middle-aged men in suits, most with their wives on their arms, talked in small bunches. Conspicuous by their absence were young men. Every man between eighteen and thirty-five, it seemed, was gone from the town of Needles.
Except one.
Though he’d said he wouldn’t come, she spent a few moments imagining what it would be like if he had. Would he ask her to dance? What would he look like all dressed up? And why, out of all the young men in town, hadn’t he enlisted? She supposed his work for the army was important, but someone older could train horses, couldn’t they? Someone who wasn’t able to enlist? She’d wanted to ask him when they sat on the riverbank, but something wouldn’t let her voice the words. As if she was afraid of the answer. His jibes about the war had set up a faint echo of doubt in the back of her mind, but she quelled it whenever it whispered.
She remembered the strong feel of his arms around her when he’d rescued her, his face only inches from her own, the scents of sunshine and soap and hard-working male surrounding her. At the lunch counter, in the midst of all those soldiers, he’d looked closed off, almost wounded. She had a feeling there was so much more to Caleb McBride than anyone here knew, and she longed to discover more about him. Many times a day, and even more often at night as she lay in bed waiting for sleep to claim her, her thoughts strayed to the horseman, and though she watched the door of the lunchroom for him every day, hoping he would come in, true to his word, he stayed away.
“May I have the pleasure?” A young man with a cowlick stood at her elbow.
“Of course.” She smiled at him, offered him her dance card, and read the name when he returned it to her. “Of course, Lawrence. I’d be delighted.” She allowed him to swing her into a waltz, joining the twirling figures already dancing.
Her dance partner was so nervous, he stared at his feet and counted the steps under his breath. Perhaps a bit of conversation would help him relax. “Are you a student at the high school?”
He looked up, stumbled, and righted himself. “Um, no. Not anymore. I graduated last month. Just turned eighteen.” His narrow chest swelled a bit, and he dared another glance at her face. “Just enlisted, too. Gonna go kill me some Germans.”
A lump formed in Meghan’s throat at the eager light in the boy’s eyes. He was so young, on the cusp of manhood, eager to go to war. How soon before battle jaded his fresh, smiling eyes or snuffed out his life altogether.
She smiled her warmest smile at him. “I’m proud of you. Everyone must do their duty. We’ll all be here praying for your safe return.”
Natalie stayed by the refreshment table, serving punch and cakes. When Meghan stopped by after the third dance, Natalie smiled and winked. “Mrs. Gregory approved my overseeing the refreshments.” A bit of color had come back into her pale cheeks, and her eyes looked less tense. Perhaps sharing her secret with someone really had eased some of her burden.
Meghan danced and chatted and got to know the people of Needles. They were friendly and accepting of the Harvey Girls. Most of the men worked in some way for the railroad, and they considered the waitresses part of the Santa Fe Railroad family. She enjoyed herself and added quite a few dimes to the donation box. She even added a few names to her quilt list, thanks to Mr. Weeks spreading the word. But the night lacked a certain luster.
Then at half past eight, Caleb McBride emerged at the head of the stairs. Impossible to miss his entrance, because a murmur went through the crowd and Mrs. Gregory sucked in a sharp breath. Meghan, dancing with the man who owned the drugstore, tripped a bit and had to right herself, leaning on her partner’s guiding arm.
Caleb looked fine all dressed up. Better than fine. He took her breath right away.
Caleb resisted the urge to turn around and go back down the steps. He was all kinds of a fool. In spite of repeated warnings to himself to steer clear of the hotel, this dance, and Meghan Thorson, here he was, dressed like a strutting turkey and acting like a besotted beagle pup.
He scanned the crowd, aware of the eyes turned his way but trying to ignore them as he sought out the one person he’d come to see. There she was, dancing with the druggist. What was his name? Cooper? Hooper? Didn’t matter. Caleb never went into the drugstore anyway. Come to think of it, he hardly went anywhere in Needles anymore. Feed store, Claypool’s for groceries once a month, Doc Bates’s, and to church where he sat in the back, kept to himself, and ducked out the minute the music for the final hymn started.
And now here he was at the El Garces. Second time this month. He was definitely loco.
The song ended, and Meghan slipped from her partner’s arms and allowed him to lead her off the dance floor. The druggist’s touch on her elbow made Caleb’s gut churn, and he forced himself not to go over and yank the man’s hand away from her. Surprised at the strength of his reaction, he reminded himself he had no claim at all on Meghan, and moreover, he didn’t want to have one. But if that was the case, why was he here? Why was he doing this to himself? He was like a starving, penniless man standing outside a bakery window, salivating over what he couldn’t taste. Coming here was a mistake. He could still get out of here. It wasn’t too late.
Then she looked right at him, and her smile smote him in the chest like the kick of a mule. She excused herself from her partner and walked toward him. He hadn’t counted on talking to her, hadn’t thought beyond just getting to see her. He’d figured by now Mrs. Gregory would’ve spilled out all her dislike of him to Meghan, and Meghan would disdain him like the rest of the town. Just getting a glimpse of her would’ve been enough. But here she was, coming at him all friendly, like he was a welcome guest.
That yellow dress was sure something. Pretty as a spring sunrise. And her smile. He couldn’t look away. She acted like he was the only one in the room and she couldn’t wait to talk to him. Unlike every other person here. He hadn’t missed the pinched lips, the whispers, the pulling aside of skirts as he passed.
Her green eyes sparkled in the glow of the paper lanterns and lightbulbs strung along the balconies as she stopped before him and held out her hand. “Caleb, I’m so glad you came.” Her smile warmed him, and he couldn’t help but notice how burnished her coppery hair looked and how a rosy tint graced her cheeks.
“Evening. After your reminder down at the river that everyone should do his part, I figured I should come and lend my support to the cause.” His voice rasped like he’d swallowed a fistful of horseshoe nails. When their fingers touched, warmth zipped up his arm, and he had to remind himself to let go.
“I’d been hoping to see you in the lunchroom, but I suppose you’re busy with your horses. How is the training going?”
“Fine.” She’d been watching for him at the hotel. That thought shot him through with golden arrows, and he cautioned himself, though it seemed to do precious little good. Her friendly reception was like water to his parched insides.
She flicked open a lacy, yellow fan and stirred the air, but she wasn’t using it as a flirting tool like some girls did. No lowering her chin or batting her eyes. Instead, she looked right at him, her lips parted, eyes such a deep green he wanted to sink into them and forget to come back to reality. “I hope the work won’t keep you away indefinitely. With so many strangers and travelers coming through, it’s nice to see a familiar face once in a while.”
He dragged his mind away from how creamy-smooth her skin looked and how several delicate russet curls wisped at the nape of her neck. “I’ll be sure to stop by next time I’m in town.”
Now where had that come from? Hadn’t he just told himself he wasn’t going to—?
“The orchestra is about ready for another song.” She consulted her dance card.
And he could dance about as
well as a peg-legged duck on ice. How was he going to get out of this? Why hadn’t he thought how awkward it would be coming to a dance and not being able to take a turn around the floor?
Because he’d been too busy thinking about how lonely his life was and about how pleasant it was when a pretty girl noticed him. Not just noticed him, but was nice to him. Treated him with respect instead of like something she needed to scrape off her shoe.
She glanced at him expectantly, and he noted the three men waiting nearby, eager to claim her for a dance.
“I’m not much for dancing. If I pay the dime, will you sit out this dance with me?”
A small furrow appeared between her brows, and questions invaded her eyes, but she nodded. “Of course. Would you like some punch?”
He cupped her elbow, savoring the whisper-softness of her skin, and led her to the refreshment table. The three men hoping for a dance faded away, and he made sure his face bore not a trace of smugness.
“You remember Natalie?” Meghan accepted a cup of lemonade.
“I do. A pleasure, ma’am.” He reached up to touch the brim of his hat before he remembered he’d left it downstairs at the hatcheck. Back home they’d call it the coat check, but the need for coats was so rare here, he didn’t even own one anymore.
