"To whom. And the answer is: me."
"Allison may not want to remarry. Have you considered that?"
"No more than I have considered withdrawing my family's business from your father's firm."
Andrew glanced sharply at Powell.
Powell met his surprise with level coldness.
"It we weren't such good friends, that would sound like a threat," Andrew eyed Powell cautiously.
With a frank look, Powell said nothing.
"You'd bribe your way into my sister's heart?"
"Bribe is hardly the word I would use. I am simply offering to keep giving your father's law firm the legal work to maintain all of this." Powell waved his arm to take in all the purchased beauty about, and leaned back in his chair with a satisfied air.
Andrew stared blankly into the fireplace as the flames licked the logs without seeming to touch. Yet they burned just the same. "What, exactly would you have me say to her?"
"Nothing specific, just persuade your sister what a wonderful fellow I am."
"So you want me to lie." Andrew poured himself another drink, and emptied his glass.
"I hardly think that's necessary. But if you feel you must..."
Andrew cast a pointed look in Powell's direction. "Tell me something."
Powell raised his eyebrows with aristocratic condescension.
"Why Allison? There are dozens of girls who would marry you in an instant."
"But Allison won't."
"Yes. That's my point," said Andrew.
"And that," said Powell, as he set his drink down, "is my point, as well."
"Well, I doubt there is anything I can say that would sway her."
"Suppose you try. I assure you, I am not the only one who will benefit."
Andrew considered his options. He had already sold his heart. He would hardly miss his integrity. "I suppose I could force myself to voice a favorable opinion."
Powell brimmed with self-satisfaction as he poured Andrew another drink and directed his mind toward more amusing thoughts.
"I don't very much like the fact that Mr. Sutton's family fortune comes from cotton," said Mrs. Adair.
"Dear, there's nothing wrong with cotton. It's a harmless plant, which God put on this earth," Charles said, with a hint of condescension.
She looked unconvinced.
"Lillian, it's been years since slavery. Certainly the cotton industry can do no more harm."
"Slavery may not exist in its original form, but what is sharecropping but another--if subtler--form of slavery?"
Charles eyes simply sparkled with amusement. "Really, darling, I think all those meetings you attend have filled your head with all sorts of political nonsense."
Lillian looked to her son for assistance, but received a jaundiced glance.
"Perhaps it's time we put the past behind us, Mother."
"I will put the past behind me, but not the present."
"The present," said Charles, "Is this: the Suttons' money is a significant portion of our firm's business. Without it, we could not live the sort of life we enjoy. By the way, my dear, that is a lovely new dress you are wearing. Silk, isn't it?"
Andrew sought to soften the tone, "I'm sure the Suttons must have redistributed their holdings into areas other than cotton since moving up north."
"Of course they have," said Charles.
Lillian was silent.
Charles continued. "Allison is fortunate to have the interest of someone like Powell Sutton. He could easily have set his sights on some young girl who has never been married. As I see it, this is quite an opportunity for her."
"And for us," Lillian said to herself.
Andrew said nothing more, having achieved a victory, at least in this battle. With his parents' support, the wedding would most assuredly happen in due time.
Later, when Andrew spoke to Allison, he was not quite as successful. Despite his encouragement, Allison was distressed by the news of Powell's interest. She emphatically rejected the idea of marriage, and begged Andrew to help dissuade their parents when the time came.
He said, "I'm sorry. It's already been discussed."
"I will not marry Mr. Sutton."
"He really isn't such a bad person, once you get to know him."
Allison looked at her brother as if he'd gone mad. "As long as you don't get to know him too well."
"Maybe it's time to let go of Edmund."
Allison paused and drew a breath, then said, "I will not marry Mr. Sutton."
"Just give it some time. You don't have to decide right now."
"It's decided. I cannot marry anyone, because I'm already married."
Chapter 19
Allison nearly smiled with relief to be able to share her secret with someone.
"What?" Andrew asked her.
"You must promise not to tell Mother or Father. Swear it!"
"I swear. But you can't be serious!"
"Yes!" Allison's eyes were aglow.
But when? Who?"
"I can't tell you. But I love him and I'm happy."
"What kind of marriage is this? You live at home. You tell no one."
"I can't explain."
"If you won't tell me, I'll just have Samuel check the county records for a license."
"I suppose you could do that," she said. The corner of her mouth quirked, wanting to grin. "But he won't find any. We had our own ceremony--my husband and I--just the two of us," said Allison.
Andrew sat stunned. "You know, of course, that it's not legal with no license, no witnesses."
"It's a marriage in our hearts, and in God's eyes."
Andrew was slack jawed. "I don't understand. Why the need for such secrecy? What sort of man is he--to ask this of a woman?" Then he thought about Maggie, and what he had asked of her.
Allison said, "He's the finest man I've ever known."
"I'm sure that will be a comfort to Mother and Father when they hear the news."
"Which they won't from you." She eyed him sharply.
"Have you thought this through? What if you become...with child? It does happen, Allison. Will you keep that a secret, too?"
"We'll manage. I can't tell you more. Just be happy for me--and deliver me from Powell Sutton!" She smiled.
Andrew could not smile back. He would have to find some way to keep Powell at bay.
The union meeting was over. While the others drank and laughed, Jake stepped outside for some air. He was not in the mood for laughter, but he was not quite ready to go home, either. It was easier to take comfort in the nearness of others, without the obligation to appear to enjoy them.
As he stared at the stars, he wished his thoughts could be as distant. But they were Maggie. They were all Maggie. All the thoughts. All the feelings.
"Who is she?" She sat down beside him.
Unnerved and in no mood to talk, Jake looked up to see the girl he had once thought looked so much like Maggie.
"What?"
She held out a glass of beer, which he took and drank.
He remembered her name. "Sophie?"
She nodded. "Who was she?"
He tossed a confused look her way.
"Nobody looks like you do, unless it's over a girl."
"Oh yeah? And just what do I look like?"
"Whupped."
Jake tried to smile.
Sophie studied Jake. "You deserve someone who'll make you happy," said Sophie.
"That's just something people say."
"Not to me."
Jake looked at Sophie. Her eyes were a mixture of green and brown, like moss on a fallen tree, surviving. Through her eyes, he caught a glimpse of a good heart. "You deserve someone who'll make you happy."
Sophie tried to smile, but looked away, unable to meet Jake's gaze. "You can't count on people to make you happy."
"You can't count on happiness, period." said Jake.
"No, but I always hope for it."
Jake shook his head. "Happiness is like a spark from a fire. You can't he
lp but be drawn to its light, and its warmth. But you can't hold it, and you can't make it last."
"Then what do you hope for, Jake?"
"That's my problem. I keep hoping to hold it, and to make it last."
Jake hung his hat and coat on a peg beside the door and turned to find his mother sitting by the fire, and tatting. She kept her eyes on her lace as she greeted him, but Jake, like all children no matter how old, could read his mother's moods. With a peck on the cheek, he bade her goodnight and walked toward the stairs.
"And where have you been?"
He stopped. "Out."
Maeve lifted her eyes to regard Jake with unmasked disapproval.
"I'm a grown man, Ma. I can do what I please."
Jake turned to mount the stairs, but Maeve called out to him.
"No unions. You made a promise."
"It was a boy's promise."
"It's a man's folly."
"So be it."
Maeve set down her tatting and stared into the fire. "Have you forgotten--?"
Jake's jaw tightened. "I remember Da. And Will. And I remember who killed them."
"Jake. Don't do this."
Jake tried to hold his temper. He would never convince her that matters would not get out of hand. Still, he remembered the family's sudden move from the Anthracite region of Pennsylvania when Kevin O'Neill took a job in a Johnstown coal mine. Over the years, Jake had deduced that his father's involvement in the Molly Maguires had implicated him in a murder, during which he nearly lost his own life. A few years later, eleven men--eleven friends--were tried and hanged for their alleged involvement in the Molly Maguires. Maeve was determined that what had happened to those men would not happen to her boys. As each O'Neill boy came of age and went to work, Maeve made him promise to stay clear of such groups.
"Ma, this isn't the Molly Maguires."
"And what's the difference?"
"The difference for me is that Will's dead." Jake took the stairs two at a time.
Maggie tried to stay busy shelving books and helping people, but mostly she stole glances at Jake. She did not want to, but she could not help herself. He had been sitting there alone, reading the newspaper, for several minutes. Maggie's attention was forced away to attend to the desk. When she finished stamping books, she looked over to find Jake had been joined by a pretty young woman. They were leaning over the same book together, deep in conversation and all too frequent smiles. Maggie's heart sank.
"Who's that girl with Jake?" asked her niece, Robin.
"I don't know, honey," she said, trying to ignore them.
"Is that his girlfriend?"
"Young lady, that's none of our business."
Maggie left Robin drawing pictures behind the tall library desk, while she went to shelve more books. She wanted to be far away from Jake and alone with her thoughts. But thoughts of Jake followed her no matter where she went. Her feelings for him, and she could not deny anymore that she had them, troubled her. A lot. She needed time. That was all--just some time to herself to sort through it.
Clutching some books, she headed for a secluded corner of the library where she could hide until she regained her composure. She rounded a corner and stopped abruptly. Two lovers pulled away from a kiss, startled and staring at Maggie.
Maggie looked first at Allison, then at Samuel. She had never seen a black man kiss a white woman. It simply had never occurred to her. She was speechless.
"Maggie," said Allison, gently.
Andrew's sister. My Andrew, she thought. No, not your Andrew--not anymore.
Maggie nodded slowly. "Allison." She looked from one to the other. "Mr. Hollander."
Maggie glanced first at some books, then the floor, and then she said, "I'm sorry. Excuse me," and walked away. She did not know what to say. Allison? And Samuel? Did Andrew know? She heard footsteps and looked up to see Samuel. He nodded to her as he walked toward the door.
"Maggie? Please, may I speak with you," Allison said.
Maggie nodded and led the way to an unoccupied corner, far from anyone's earshot. Jake was still at his table across the library and, she noted, still enthralled by his companion. Maggie forced him from her mind.
Allison looked stricken. "Please, Maggie, please you mustn't tell anyone--not even Andrew."
"I doubt I'll be speaking with Andrew again."
"Oh. I'm so sorry."
"I am, too," said Maggie.
"I had hopes for you two. You were good for him."
Maggie gave a half-hearted nod, but words caught in her throat.
"Love doesn't always happen the way you expect it," said Allison.
"No, I don't suppose that it does," she said, thinking of Andrew.
"We're in love," she said, simply.
Maggie studied Allison with a curious frown. "I envy you." She glanced away.
"If Andrew wasn't the one, then there's someone better for you."
Nodding, Maggie glanced down and blinked watery eyes before turning back to ask Allison, "What will you do?"
"What can I do? I love him."
"But you risk everything."
"No, I don't. He is everything."
Maggie smiled. She could see how happy Allison was. "But what will you do? I'm trying to imagine the people in your circle. They didn't look too pleased to see Andrew with me, but you and Samuel?"
Allison nodded. "If we have to, we'll leave. Maggie, I once loved the beautiful dresses, the fine restaurants, the parties, and the opera. But what at first was so lovely became lonely. I was lonely for a very long time."
"And now you've found love."
"It found me." Allison leaned a bit closer. She had not been able to talk about Samuel. The chance to do so delighted her. "I think I must have loved him all my life. He was the only man who'd ever bothered to look beyond what he saw, to see that I wasn't some porcelain doll--but a woman, with thoughts and feelings. He cared about that--who I was, on the inside."
"Oh, Allison. I hope you can be happy. I want that for you."
"We will be. We nearly missed love, and we won't let that happen again."
Maggie's eyes teared. "Why can't we just know ahead about love, so we can avoid the disasters?"
"Andrew hurt you. I'm sorry. I've been hurt myself."
Maggie had not known, but she would not pry. She could only offer her sympathy.
"But I also know that when love comes close enough to touch you, you must let it. You must let it in, or you never will know."
A chair grated across the wood floor. Maggie looked up. Her misty eyes followed Jake and his pretty companion to the exit. Had love found her once? Perhaps. But she had lost it. No--like a careless child, she had discarded it.
"I'm happy for you," Maggie said. "And I'm sad. The world isn't quite ready for you."
"Then we will make our world smaller until it is ready--even if it's a world of two."
The joy on Allison's faced filled Maggie with warmth and some envy. Allison had found that great and rare thing. It would not be easy. But to be truly loved, what price was too great?
Maggie squeezed Allison's hand and walked away to attend to her library duties.
Christmas Eve brought no snow, only gray landscape. "How fitting," Maggie thought, as she stared out the window and dried dish after dish. She was in Maeve's home--and Jake's--for the sake of tradition. When Beth and Maggie's mother had died, Maeve began to invite them over to her home. They had spent every Christmas there since. She was here for tradition, she told herself. In truth, Allison's words still resonated. When love comes close enough to touch you.... Maggie had thought her true love was Andrew, but he'd let her down. His refined demeanor had advertised something he did not possess, for beneath his elegant looks and meticulous grooming was a man who desired her, yes, but not as much as he desired his own comfort. It never was love.
Maeve looked up from the mulled cider she was stirring. "Jake should have been here by now."
At the mention of Jake, Maggie turned to
listen. From the way Maeve was studying her thoughtfully, Maggie realized she must have shown a bit too much interest. Maggie looked away and concentrated on the dish she was drying.
The children's gleeful cries reached her before she heard the front door close. By the time the footsteps reached the kitchen, Maggie had nearly caught her breath. She was nervous. Jake walked in all full of vigor from the cold, with red in his cheeks and fire in his eyes. He looked rugged and handsome. He always had been.
When love comes close enough to touch you... Had love already tried? Would it ever try again?
Jake's hair looked black in the dim light, and shining and speckled with mist from the moist night air.
He gave his mother and Beth each a kiss on the cheek, and then he came to Maggie, and stopped. "Merry Christmas, Maggie." He leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. Maggie thrilled at the touch of his cold lips on her cheek. Jake was different this evening. She saw him as if it were the first time she'd met him. His looks were the least it. Jacob O'Neill was everything a man should be, and she had been too close to see it.
Maggie opened her mouth to say "Merry Christmas," but Jake wasn't looking. He left the kitchen for a moment, and returned with a pretty young woman in tow. First he introduced her to his mother, and then Maggie's turn came. Maggie greeted her cordially, even as her heart sank. Sophie. The girl in the library. Light brown hair framed her face with gentle waves. But most enchanting were her green eyes. Or perhaps they only looked green when viewed through Maggie's envy.
"Would you like some cider?" Maggie asked as she hid her inner churning with forced graciousness. She felt as though the house were whirling. The children ran into the kitchen and asked for carrots and apples to leave for the reindeer, which Maggie prepared. Then she tried to keep busy until Jake left the kitchen.
She picked up some toys in the parlor, where Maeve was speaking to one of her children.
"We decorate with greens at Christmas to remind us that spring will come again. Sometimes winter looks dreary and gray, so it helps us to see green, living things to remind us that life goes on."
Maggie's throat tightened as she looked at the faraway look in Maeve's eyes. She was missing Will and her husband.
Jake brought out his fiddle and began to play a carol, while everyone gathered to sing, dance, or just clap. Beth and Maeve took turns singing folks songs from Scotland and Ireland. Jake lowered his fiddle and smiled at Sophie.
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