by Mateer, Anne
Still, I had to wonder why he hadn’t told me he’d designed the race car. Or that he was supposed to drive it. Did his secrets stem from humility—or deception? I inched toward the old carriage house, pressed my ear against the wooden door. If I could hear something I might have an idea where he’d hidden my money. Just in case.
I squeezed my eyes shut as I listened. Please, Lord. Keep the money safe.
A touch on my shoulder. I jumped and turned. Then I relaxed. “Lawrence. What are you—”
His gaze slid past me, to the garage. “You going somewhere?”
“No.” I waved my hand in the direction of the building. “Webster’s hiding my rac—” I gulped down the word that rose to my lips. “The money I raised for the missionaries.”
I couldn’t meet his gaze, so I stared at the tuft of grass at my feet. If he discovered I’d driven on Sunday, would he applaud my efforts? Commend my bravery and skill in the race? Or would he see me as less of a Christian? Less of a woman? All of a sudden, his opinion mattered more than it had before.
“I thought you were going to let me help you with that.”
“Well, I—actually, I—”
He stepped to the small gap between the two large doors and peered inside. I quieted, wanting to ask what he saw, but fearing such knowledge. It was a good thing, I mused, for him to have come along just now. Two people ought to know the money’s location. And neither of them should be me.
Then the door flung wide. Webster and Lawrence stood face to face. Webster’s easy expression hardened into a challenge. “Need something?” he growled.
Lawrence gave no verbal acknowledgment of the question as his hand closed around my arm like a vise. “Your mother sent me to find you, Alyce. Your grandmother has taken a turn.”
18
Wrenching my arm from Lawrence’s grasp, I darted ahead. I burst into Grandmother’s bedroom. Father stood near her, his back blocking my view. Then Mother appeared beside me, strong and serene, leading me to the other side of the bed.
“Here she is, Laura.”
Grandmother, propped up with pillows, smiled in my direction. “Alyce?”
Her voice sounded as thin as blown glass, but it filled my ears with music. I eased down on the bed beside her and wrapped my arms around her frail body. Her shaky hand stroked my hair as I buried my face in her shoulder.
“I thought . . .” I couldn’t say what I’d thought.
A small chuckle in my ear told me she knew anyway. “It wasn’t my time, Ally. Not yet.”
I lifted my head. How would I bear it when her time came? I shuddered, brought her hand to my lips and kissed it. “Rest now, Granny. I’ll come read to you later tonight.”
She closed her eyes and nodded. Mother, Father, and I gathered in the hall, along with Dr. Maven, who I’d failed to notice when I rushed in. Lawrence was dawdling near the staircase, not part of the family, yet seeming to wish to be. I waited until his eye caught mine, hoping he could read my invitation to remain. Then I turned my attention back to my parents.
“And you’ll find a nurse for us, Doc? Or two—one for day, one for night? More, if need be. Whatever it takes. We have plenty of room to accommodate medical staff.” Father shoved his hands into his pants pockets and rocked back on his heels. “We can make them comfortable here for as long as need be.”
Mother’s solemn nod comforted me, along with the compassionate knit to her brow. No look of the socialite in exile now. Perhaps she’d just needed a crisis to remind her how much she was needed here.
I pushed up on my toes and kissed Father’s cheek. “Thank you.”
His fingers reached for the spot my lips had touched. “What’s that for, Ally girl?”
I shrugged. “For keeping her here instead of insisting she go to the hospital. She would hate that.”
“I know.” His voice held a softer quality, not his usual boom of authority. “She despised me for sending my father there.” His mouth turned down, and he stared at the floor.
“Oh, Father.” I wrapped my arms around his middle. “Not despise. She might have been disappointed about how things turned out, but nothing more. And she long ago asked your forgiveness for her anger. She told me so.”
As his cheeks brightened to red, I hooked one arm around Mother’s waist, one around Father’s. “I’m sure Clarissa has luncheon ready.” I raised my voice. “And I’m sure Dr. Maven will be happy to join us.”
Father engaged the doctor in conversation as they descended toward the dining room. Mother hurried ahead to alert Clarissa. I craned my neck for some sign of Lawrence. I guessed he hadn’t understood my meaning earlier. Disappointment lapped over relief as I made my way down the stairs.
I needed a moment alone. A moment to express my gratitude to the Lord. I stepped inside the morning room and pulled the pocket doors shut. Then I leaned my head against them to pray.
“Alyce?”
I whirled around. “Lawrence.”
His eyes searched mine. He took my hand, led me to the sofa, and sat beside me.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
His mustache twitched upward. “For what?”
“For praying for my grandmother, for us.”
He cocked his head to one side.
I laid my hand on his arm. “You didn’t have to tell me you were praying. I knew you were, because you’ve already shown me the kind of man you are.”
Something like fear flickered through his eyes. He needn’t be afraid of me. Surely he knew that by now.
Then the look was gone, replaced by a hunger that sent my heart into a wild dance. Maybe God did have a future for me that looked like other women’s.
I accompanied Lawrence out to his car after we ate, marveling again that he could afford such a gem as a Grant. Webster stepped around the corner of the house but froze when he saw us, his whistle fading to nothingness.
I smiled and waved as Lawrence climbed into his car with no recognition of Webster’s presence. Webster raised his hand in reply, but the line of his mouth didn’t bend upward as his eyes met mine. In one swift motion, he hopped into Father’s Mercer and drove it down the brick drive toward the garage.
“Didn’t you see Web—Mr. Little?”
Lawrence scowled. “I did. But I had no reason to acknowledge him. I don’t trust that man.”
I leaned into the open window on the passenger side. “Whyever not?”
“Something about his eyes. Shifty. What do you know about him anyway?”
“I know he works for Father, same as you.” Irritation sharpened my tone.
“Not the same as me. He’s a mechanic, for heaven’s sake.”
“And what’s wrong with that?” My jaw tightened.
One shoulder rose and lowered. “Nothing much, I guess. Just never can tell. That kind roams about a good bit. Often take things that aren’t theirs when they move on. People aren’t always who they seem to be, Alyce.”
My eyes narrowed. “Exactly what are you saying?”
He reached over and patted my hand. “Just be careful. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
I pulled away from his touch, crossed my arms, and stared down the road that led to town. I hated that his words churned a confused place inside of me. I didn’t know much about Webster. Not really. He never spoke about his past. But if he had a penchant for thievery, it wouldn’t take long to know it. Not with almost a thousand dollars stashed somewhere in the garage.
If any of that money for the McConnells went missing now, I’d have no one but myself to blame. Again.
19
Webster lifted his goggles from the peg on the wall. “I thought we’d take the Packard today.”
“The Packard?” My gaze shifted from my car to the race car and back again. “But I thought . . .”
“Don’t worry. We’ll do some rounds in the race car tomorrow. Today I’d like to get you used to driving a long distance without stopping. We won’t worry about speed, just the amount of time in the car.”
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I looked down at my unorthodox costume: knickers, shirt, and boots. “But I can’t go out in public in this.”
He tossed me a duster. I snagged a corner before it hit the ground. After shuffling my arms into the sleeves and buttoning it to the top, I looked down at my boots.
“What if we have to get out of the car?”
“We won’t. I filled a couple of canteens with water. And I have extra oil and gasoline and all the necessary tools should a problem arise. We’ll be fine.” He put the Packard in neutral and shoved his weight against the back, rolling it out into the open.
“Let’s go.” He hopped into the driver’s seat, pulled the brake, and then scooted over to let me behind the wheel.
Three hours bouncing over country roads. If I could survive that, I could survive three hours on a smooth track. I hit the starter and put the car in gear.
“Where to?” I asked as the brick drive met the dirt road that fronted the house.
“Doesn’t matter. Just drive.”
I turned left, away from town, neither of us speaking as we passed farmhouses dotting fields in various stages of harvest. I kept my speed moderate, so as not to overheat the engine. Still, we’d eventually have to stop to shore up the oil and add gasoline. No getting around that.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Webster pushed his hat away from his face, his elbow resting on the ledge of the open window.
I leaned forward, trying to see what he saw. Maybe he meant the car. Or the weather. Or me?
The unexpected thought birthed a bubble of yearning that surprised me. What would life be like with a man who knew all of me—my faults, my failures, my secret pleasures? Would it make up for being a working man’s wife? I thought of Lucinda and her Billy. It seemed they’d been happy, in spite of their struggles. If only a man like Webster shared my faith. I’d even risk my parents’ displeasure for such a one as that.
The car picked up speed. Eyes trained on the road, I counseled my heart to put away fairy tales.
“Careful now. Don’t overdo.”
For a girl who’d never experienced the need to see appreciation in a man’s eyes or hear admiration in his voice, I suddenly found myself imagining such from both Lawrence and Webster. And I wasn’t sure I liked the feeling.
“How long have we been out?” I called over the din.
Webster produced a pocket watch. “Close to an hour. You tired?”
I shook my head, forced a smile, hoped he believed me.
Only an hour. My arms jiggled like jelly. I couldn’t feel my feet. And my derriere felt like it’d been stuck by a thousand pins. How would I ever survive at speeds of seventy, eighty, ninety miles an hour? And yet there would be pit stops along the way. The thought cheered me, until I realized that every stop increased the chance of exposure. No, the longer I could endure, the better.
Billowing dust and smoke warned me of an approaching auto. I downshifted, eased closer to the edge of the narrow road, and waved as the Tin Lizzie ambled past.
“Why don’t you slow for a while? Give the engine a rest.”
I nodded and kept the speed steady, puttering along as sedately as any matron.
“Does your father know you’re driving in Cincinnati?”
My mouth opened and shut.
“I thought you were going to tell him, Ally.”
I extended the fingers of my right hand, then my left, one by one, stretching some feeling back into them. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, not with Grandmother so ill.”
“I thought she was better.”
My eyebrows sank toward my nose. “Some. But she’s still frail. I’d rather not add another burden for Father to shoulder.”
He grunted, but whether in agreement or dissent I couldn’t discern. I cut my eyes his direction, craving his approval even while wondering why.
We drove on. Perspiration slid down the side of my face, down the backs of my legs. My throat ached with thirst. My legs longed for a short reprieve.
Pop!
My foot jerked from the gas pedal. I downshifted and groaned as the sizzle of liquid on hot metal followed.
“Stop there.” Webster pointed to a clear edge of road, just above a lane leading to a sagging farmhouse. He slithered out through the open window, ignoring the door. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”
After uncinching the leather straps, he threw back the hinged cover and let a trail of steam dissipate before leaning over the hot engine. Then he straightened. Hands on his hips, he stared down the lane before turning to me.
“Why don’t you see if you can wait at that house down there? This might take a while.” He opened the toolbox bolted to the running board.
“Oh no. You said I wouldn’t have to see anyone while I was dressed like this.” I pushed open my door. Though the engine had long stilled, my limbs continued to shake with the vibration. I needed to stand, to walk.
Webster appeared and gripped my hand as my feet landed on solid ground. My knees buckled. I fell against his chest. His arms held me upright, his touch caging my breath in my chest.
“See? I knew this would take some getting used to.”
I clung to him as my legs steadied, not wanting him to move away. I liked having someone hold me up, if only for a moment.
“Need some help?” A man dressed in dungarees glared at Webster.
Webster let go. I stumbled but then anchored myself with a hand on the Packard as the man’s lazy gaze moved in my direction.
“Just engine trouble.” Webster pointed to the open cover.
“I see.” His eyes narrowed, taking in my bobbed hair and unorthodox clothing. And he’d come upon us in what must have appeared to be an embrace. “You sure you’re all right, miss?”
“I’m fine. Just the car. He’ll have it fixed soon.” My wide eyes pleaded with Webster to hurry. He dove back into the engine. I smiled at the farmer. “Thank you for your concern.”
With a tip of his hat, the man sauntered down the lane, toward the house. I exhaled, leaned against the side of the car. Laughter danced in Webster’s eyes as he watched the man go.
I crossed my arms and raised my eyebrows. “Back to work, Webster Little. I don’t intend to be humiliated again.”
He gave me a playful wink before ducking his head over the still engine. Half an hour later, his head popped up again. The cover banged shut. He threaded the leather through the buckles and pulled tight.
“See? Nothing to worry about.” He wiped his hands and shoved his rag back into his pocket. His grin warmed me from the inside out.
No matter what Lawrence intimated, I couldn’t find any reason to distrust this man. Instead, as I climbed into the car, I found myself delighted at the prospect of two more hours with him at my side.
20
I didn’t make it out to the garage until after lunchtime the next day. The sun stood high, scorching all within its reach. When Webster pushed back his cap, a bead of perspiration raced down the side of his face. He wiped it away with the back of his hand. “Speed and duration. That’s what we’ll work on today.”
I climbed into the racing car, thankful Mother was resting in her bed and Father had motored down to the factory after our midday meal, leaving me free. Just over a week until the next race. I needed all the practice I could get.
Webster lowered his goggles as I turned down the familiar track to the dirt oval, neither of us speaking.
Yesterday’s jaunt had left me tired and sore. Today would put even greater strain on my body. But I intended to conquer any weakness that threatened my ability to earn the rest of the three thousand dollars. Especially now that the task seemed to be within my grasp.
Exhaust billowed around us as I pressed my foot to the floor to take the first straightaway. With a short track and high speeds, the curves came more often. Round and round and round and round. Until my head and stomach spun in circles, as well. But I kept on. I wouldn’t quit. This wasn’t about my pleasure as much as it was about the McConnells’ mi
ssion. And those precious faces in the photograph. I pushed on, teeth clenched. Numb, except for the pounding in my head and the churning in my stomach.
Then the jostle of my shoulder, Webster’s concern evident even from behind his goggles. He pointed away from the track. I slowed, pulled into the tall grass. Stumbling out of my seat, I dropped to my hands and knees beneath a small knot of trees and retched into the field. I sat back, chest heaving, stomach roiling.
“Here.” Webster thrust a jug of water into my hands. My arms refused to hold the weight. He lifted it to my lips and encouraged me to drink. It dribbled down my chin and onto my shirt, cooling the heat of my skin.
He moved me away from my sickness and sat beside me. Clutched my hand. Stroked it. “You okay, Ally?” Tender ministrations. Anguished words.
Concern for me? Or for his car? My befuddled brain couldn’t sort it out, so I simply rested in the comfort of his touch.
I took another drink. My stomach settled. Eyes squeezed shut, I regained control of my brain. “It’s the shorter track, all those turns. I think we should concentrate on stamina. The speed is there. We both know that.” My eyes opened to find him studying my face. I pushed out a quick breath. “I’m fine. Really. Help me up.”
He jumped to his feet. I placed my hand in his outstretched palm and rose.
“Should we chance the open road?” A shaky chuckle punctuated my question.
“Not in that car we won’t. You need a break. And something to eat. We can take the Packard out later.”
I couldn’t argue. Didn’t want to. I even let him help me into the mechanic’s position in the racing car. I only regretted that I had to let go of his hand so he could pilot us home.
When I arrived at the Women’s Mission Auxiliary meeting the next evening, the ladies peppered me with questions about Grandmother. Mrs. Swan’s arm circled my waist and pulled me close, shooing the women back to their seats. “I’m so glad to hear she’s doing better. May we come visit her soon?”
“I’m sure she’d love that.” I sat down and demurely folded my hands in my lap as Mrs. Tillman took her place in front.
