Golden State Brides

by Keli Gwyn

  Their movement must’ve caught Mr. Ford Harvey’s eye. “Excuse me. Miss Thorson, Mr. McBride.”

  They turned, and Caleb wondered if his face looked as guilty as Meghan’s. “Sir?”

  Mrs. Gregory’s mouth pinched, and her eyes glittered. Mr. Stock looked like he wanted to sink beneath the floor and never return. Copious amounts of sweat leaked from his forehead, and his handkerchief swiped continually.

  “I’ve just been having a word with Mr. Stock and Mrs. Gregory. I don’t anticipate any further difficulties for either of you here at the El Garces. Miss Thorson, you will be moved to the dining room immediately, and Mr. McBride, you are always welcome here. You and your friend.” He flicked a finger to where Joshua hovered behind them. “I’ll be back through this way soon. I imagine I’ll find everything as it should be.” Though he smiled, there was no real warmth in it, and his tone was such that Caleb had no doubt he expected to be obeyed.

  He left, and Mrs. Gregory’s face went from white as a blister to red as a bloodstone. “What have you been telling him, Miss Thorson? It’s shameful of you to take your complaints to Mr. Harvey instead of coming to discuss them with me first.”

  “Here now.” Caleb stepped forward. “She didn’t know who he was any more than I did. And she didn’t complain about you. Not a word.” Though he might’ve mentioned something about her difficult personality.

  Mr. Stock wrung his hands. “The damage has been done. Rehashing it won’t help. I wanted to warn you, Mrs. Gregory, but he forbade me from saying anything about his being here. And you were in the dining room the whole time. I can’t imagine why he didn’t want to dine with Mr. Chaplin and Miss Pickford.” He mopped his forehead again.

  “It seems trouble follows you wherever you happen to be, Miss Thorson.” Mrs. Gregory’s back stiffened. “I will move you to the dining room as he requested, but if you so much as spill a drop of coffee into a saucer, I’ll fire you.” Her eyes bored into Meghan before switching to Caleb. “And if you persist in hanging around here panting after one of my waitresses, I’ll set the sheriff after you.”

  She wheeled and marched away.

  Mr. Stock took a deep breath. “We must make some allowances for her. She’s under a great deal of stress. She hasn’t heard from her son since he arrived in Europe, and she’s been so busy with all the preparations for the celebrity train. Mr. McBride, I hope you won’t think me churlish, but it might be best for all of us if she doesn’t find you here when she returns.”

  Caleb nodded, wishing he could stay and spend more time with Meghan, but knowing, as he’d known all along, that his being with her would only cause her trouble and himself pain. He wouldn’t wait around to be thrown out. A man had his pride, after all.

  “I’m sorry my presence seems to get you into difficulties.”

  Meghan shrugged. The train whistle sounded, and she glanced over his shoulder to where Mr. Chaplin and Miss Pickford stood in the doorway to the dining room. “I don’t have any problem getting into trouble. Like Mrs. Gregory said. It follows me to wherever I happen to be.”

  “That might be true, but I don’t want you to face censure because of me. I’ll stay away from the hotel. That will make Mrs. Gregory happy—or at least as happy as a woman of her disposition can be.” He hadn’t realized how much he had looked forward to seeing Meghan when he came to town. A hole tore open in his chest. Still, it was for the best.

  She turned those wide, green eyes on him. “Will I see you again?” Her pretty, pink lips parted, and his breath hitched, but he forced himself to take a firm grip on his resolve.

  “No. It’s for the best.” Settling his hat on his head, he touched the brim and walked out into the sunshine, careful to make sure he didn’t show even a trace of a limp.

  Chapter 9

  D oc washed his hands and wiped them on the roller towel beside the sink. One last patient waited in his front parlor before he could escape to the river for a little sunset fishing. A small practice might not be very exciting out here in the California desert, but it sure gave him plenty of time to stalk record-breaking pikeminnows.

  “Miss?”

  The pretty blond perched on the edge of one of his wing-chairs jumped. One of the girls from the hotel. He remembered seeing her in the dining room. Wedgewood blue eyes fringed with pale lashes met his. Her pale pink dress hung on her slight frame.

  “Won’t you come in?” He studied her as she rose and entered the examination room. Slight, pale, with dark smudges under those pretty eyes. She had the bone structure of a bird, and her skin was so translucent he could see the blue lines of her veins on the backs of her hands and at her temples.

  He motioned toward the chair beside his desk and took his own seat, leaning back, propping his elbows on the arms of his chair, and steepling his fingers under his nose. “What brings you in to see me today?”

  She swallowed, staring at her hands in her lap. A single tear splashed onto her thumb. “I don’t know where to start,” she whispered.

  “How about we start with your name?”

  “Natalie Daviot.”

  “There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” He smiled, but she didn’t look up. “And how old are you, Natalie?”

  “Twenty-two.”

  Older than she looked. He’d have wagered she wasn’t a day over seventeen.

  “Are you feeling ill, Miss Daviot?”

  The cuff of her dress seemed to fascinate her. She plucked at the lace edging, smoothing it and scrunching it by turns. “I’m just so tired. I thought I’d pick up once I got used to the work, but I’m dragging around like a hound dog’s chew toy.”

  Doc scratched the word fatigue on his notepad. “You’re a Harvey Girl at the hotel, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “For how long now?”

  “Almost three months.”

  “From what I’ve seen, Harvey Girls work very hard. Lots of time on your feet and lots of lifting and carrying. Fatigue after all those long shifts is natural. Any other symptoms?”

  She shook her head. “I had a little stomach bug a few weeks ago that hung on for a while, but that’s gone now.”

  Sitting on the very edge of the chair, she looked ready to take wing at any moment. And she had yet to meet his eyes since coming into the exam room. Her slender shoulders bowed, and she wore an unmistakable air of guilt. He began putting all the pieces together and formed a preliminary diagnosis.

  “I’m going to have to ask you some fairly pointed and personal questions, I’m afraid, if we’re going to figure out what’s going on with you.”

  She took a deep breath as if fortifying herself. “Doctor, I’m afraid I know what it might be, but I really don’t want it to be.” This time her chin came up and she blinked, sending a fresh pair of tears tracking down her cheeks.

  He raised his eyebrows and laid his pencil down before digging in his pocket for a clean handkerchief.

  “Are you in trouble?” He kept his tone as kind and non-judgmental as he could.

  She nodded, dabbing at her eyes. “But not the way you think.”

  “Oh?”

  “I think I’m having a baby.”

  Which confirmed his initial thoughts based upon her symptoms. Poor girl. She had a hard road ahead of her. This wasn’t the first time he’d been called upon to make such a diagnosis, and it was never a happy occasion. He wouldn’t wish being an unwed mother on anyone, and this fragile girl seemed less able to bear it than most. With as much tact and understanding as possible, he asked a few pertinent questions.

  “I’ll need to examine you to make sure, but from what you’ve told me, I suspect you’re right. What about the father? Is there any chance he will marry you?” Doc ran his hand down his face. He’d have to get his address book from the desk in his study. That’s where he kept his contact information for the girls’ home over in Barstow. Marjorie Banks ran the place, and she’d take good care of Miss Daviot during her confinement, and if the girl so desired, she’d find a h
ome for the child.

  “But I am married.” She reached for the back of her neck and slid her finger under a chain, tugging it out from the collar of her dress. A circlet of gold dangled from the links. “My husband is a soldier. I didn’t tell anyone about my marriage because if they found out, I’d have to leave my job. The Harvey Company only hires single girls who can live in the dormitories to be Harvey Girls. And I need the money.”

  The story she spilled out had him shaking his head, both in sadness and admiration. Her husband had answered his country’s call to serve, her mother-in-law had suffered an apoplectic attack, her father-in-law was frail, and she’d taken a high-paying job halfway across the country in order to help out. He listened to every word, knowing she needed to talk as much as she needed a diagnosis. What a burden for her to carry. Her pent-up emotions rushed out, and a torrent of tears followed.

  “I’ll be back. Don’t go anywhere.”

  He went to the kitchen and got a glass of water. Returning to the exam room, he pressed it into her hand. She’d stopped crying, but her chin quivered, and the occasional hiccup jarred her.

  “Sip on this. It will help.”

  “Thank you.”

  He resumed his seat and put his forearms on his knees, leaning toward her. “Miss Daviot, or should I say Mrs. Daviot? When you’re ready, I’d like to get the examination out of the way so we can confirm your suspicions. Then we’ll talk about what to do.”

  Fifteen minutes later, he went to the kitchen to brew some tea, leaving Natalie in the exam room to gather herself and come to terms with his findings. When the tea had steeped, he put everything on a tray and carried it to his study. They’d both be more comfortable there than in the exam room.

  She eased into one of his wingchairs and sipped her tea, some color returning to her face.

  “I’m sure you can give in your notice without saying why you’re leaving. Your husband’s family will be glad to see you. You can be with them by the end of the week.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “I can’t go back yet. My mother-in-law’s doctor bills aren’t paid, and she still needs the district nurse visits. And with the added expense of a baby next year, I need every penny for as long as I can earn.”

  “But, my dear, you can’t conceal your condition forever, and you should be at home with your family.”

  “I can serve my family best by staying here as long as possible. Every dollar I earn pays for past bills and future expenses.” She let her hand drop to her abdomen. As frail and delicate as she was, a determined light gleamed in her eyes. “Working won’t hurt the baby, will it?”

  Disquieted by her determination, Doc turned his cup in its saucer. “I’d like it better if you could spend more time with your feet up. An unborn child places quite a burden on its mother, and with your demanding job, you’ll have to expect that the fatigue will continue.”

  She sighed. “Is there anything else I can do?”

  He rattled off his standard expectant-mother spiel. “Drink plenty of fluids, especially milk. I will caution you against becoming overtired. You have a rather taxing job, and you’re not yet used to the climate out here. Dehydration comes on quickly.”

  Her lower lip disappeared, and she nodded.

  “Avoid heavy lifting. I know you sometimes have to carry loaded trays, but try to minimize that. Make extra trips if you have to. That’s better than carrying too much at once. What part of the restaurant do you work in?”

  “I’m a waitress in the dining room.”

  “Perhaps you could get yourself transferred to the soda fountain instead. That would be much easier on you. No heavy lifting, no walking miles between tables and the kitchen.”

  For the first time, a smile curved her pretty mouth. “I could probably do that. I know my roommate, Meghan, just got moved up to the dining room. Mrs. Gregory will be looking to move the girls around to make room for her. I can volunteer for the soda fountain, and Barbara can move to Meghan’s spot in the lunchroom. That will be perfect.”

  “I want to go on record here as saying it would be better in the long run if you were to go home to your family. It would be best all around if you came clean to Mrs. Gregory about your marriage and your coming child.”

  “I wish I could. And I know I won’t be able to hide it forever, but I have to stay as long as I can. If there was any hope of me getting a job at home that would come close to the wages I get here, I’d do it in a heartbeat, but there just isn’t. And no one would hire me in my present condition anyway. I need this job, and I plan to stay until they kick me out.” Again that determined blue light gleamed in her eyes.

  “Then I’m going to caution you. You’re going to be tempted at some point to bind yourself up to conceal the fact that you are with child. Don’t do it. That’s the worst possible thing you could do to your growing baby and your own internal organs. Loosen your apron and let out your dresses to conceal your shape, but don’t, under any circumstances, bind yourself. You can do irreparable harm.”

  She set her teacup down, and the slender column of her throat moved as she swallowed. “I understand. And I can rely on your reticence? You won’t tell anyone?”

  “You can trust me.”

  He showed her out, but a heaviness he couldn’t dispel hung over him. Nothing good would come from her hiding her condition. It put him in mind of Caleb, also hiding a medical issue. She would be condemned for revealing hers, while his would exonerate him. Hers was a reason to celebrate, and yet she couldn’t risk it for fear of losing her job. His was a reason to commiserate, and yet he wouldn’t reveal the truth for fear of losing his pride.

  But secrets had a way of coming out. He could only hope to minimize the consequences when they did.

  “What did the doctor say?” Meghan gathered her sewing supplies into the basket she’d rounded up for the purpose. Blocks of red and white fabric, red embroidery thread, white quilting thread, red yarn for tying the quilt. She mentally checked off her list.

  Natalie unpinned her hat and set it on the dresser. “He said to drink plenty of fluids and to get as much rest as I can. There’s nothing whatever wrong with me.”

  “So he thinks it’s just taking you some time to get accustomed to the climate and the work?”

  A soft smile, as if she were privy to an inside joke, quirked her lips. “Time will solve all my problems. He said for me not to worry so much, but I don’t know that I can help it, not with Derek on the front lines like he is.”

  Meghan nodded. “I think about Lars every day. I can’t imagine what you must be going through. A brother isn’t the same as a husband.”

  Natalie shook her head. “It’s hard on everyone. Think of Mrs. Gregory with her son gone. She mentioned that she hadn’t heard from him since receiving his disembarkation card. I know she worries something terrible. Parents miss their sons, siblings miss their brothers, wives miss their husbands, and children miss their fathers. I don’t know that you can rank people’s pain as more or less dear. We’re all in this together.”

  “We’d best get downstairs together before Mrs. Gregory comes hunting us.”

  “Has she gotten over the shock of Mr. Harvey’s visit?”

  Grimacing, Meghan hefted the basket handle over her arm. “I try to make allowances for her. I mean, like you said, her son has shipped out and she hasn’t had word from him in a while, and she is in a position full of responsibility looking after all us girls and the restaurant and all, but I am in danger of getting frostbite every time she walks by me these days. She said I’m supposed to start in the dining room on Monday. She still hasn’t figured out how she’s going to shuffle everyone around.”

  Natalie closed the door behind them, and they headed to the Red Cross meeting. “How is the quilt coming along?”

  “Okay. I need to get out and about to get more signatures. Though I did manage one rather big coup.” A burst of excited warmth spread through Meghan as she remembered.

  “Oh?”

  “I ran to
the celebrity train just before it pulled out, and I managed to get donations and signatures from both Charlie Chaplin and Mary Pickford, and…” She paused and wrinkled her nose. “Mr. Ford Harvey made a donation to have his signature put on the quilt, too.” She squeezed Natalie’s arm. “Isn’t that great? More people will want the quilt knowing three famous people donated to have their names embroidered on it.”

  “That’s wonderful. I imagine folks will be eager to put their names on the quilt alongside Mr. Chaplin’s and Miss Pickford’s.”

  “I only wish I had been able to canvass the crowd while the train was here. Folks were in a very enthusiastic, supportive mood. I would’ve been able to get a bunch of donations, I bet.”

  They reached the bottom of the staircase and turned toward the screened porch. The sound of chattering women reached them through the open doorway.

  “Do you want some help with the quilt, or should I go over to the knitting machine?”

  “You go make socks. I want to do the quilt myself.” She couldn’t explain it, but she wanted this project to be all hers. Having help would somehow diminish the effort she was making, or make the project somehow less impressive. Meghan scouted out an empty table. She began laying out her supplies, creating neat stacks of red and white squares and rectangles. When she had laid out all the fabric and threads, a shadow fell across the table.

  “How is your project coming along?” Mrs. Gregory, still in her white uniform, stood beside the table with her hands on her hips. “Are you sure you don’t want me to assign you some helpers?”

  Meghan read the challenge in her eyes and tone, and her chin shot up. “That’s quite all right, Mrs. Gregory. I’ve got everything under control here.”

  One of the laundresses entered the room, spotted Meghan, and raised her eyebrows in a silent question. Meghan stood and motioned the woman over.

  “Mrs. Lassiter.”

  “Are you ready? I found a couple of boys to bring it in.” Mrs. Lassiter twisted her work-reddened hands in her apron, darting looks from the corner of her eye at Mrs. Gregory.