Watermarks

by Jarvis, J. L.

  She nodded, but in truth, she had not thought of it.

  Samuel said, "I didn't want to love a white woman. I tried not to love you. You must have known it."

  But she had not. She'd been too wrapped up in her own fears to see his.

  He went on. "I felt as though I was betraying my own."

  "Then what changed you mind?"

  He exhaled and shook his head. "I loved you."

  Allison gently nodded.

  He said, "I knew you, and I loved who you were. It was not a matter of color."

  A freshly lit candle shone from a carriage house window. Allison brushed aside the lace curtain and watched the candle take flame in the carriage house window and cast a warm light in the room around it. She watched his silhouette through the curtains, still tasting his mouth and his skin and feeling the pressure of his body against hers. Their souls were joined, and their love would endure.

  There they were again: Jake and Sophie, in the library, their heads leaning together over a book. What a cozy little couple they were. Maggie knew she was staring, but she could not help it. Twice a week they met there, head to head, sharing God only knew what in hushed tones over a book. Maggie rolled her eyes. Sophie smiled. Sophie laughed. Sophie studied Jake's face with the shimmering eyes of a woman in love. She should have gotten used to it. For weeks this had gone on. When they'd talked at the ice skating pond, Jake had shrugged off her mention of Sophie. And yet, they continued to meet, and each time disturbed Maggie more than the last. To make matters worse, Jake had become exasperatingly polite with her. After all they had been through together, was this what she deserved--common courtesy? It irked her.

  Maggie sat at her desk, stamping books and stealing glances in between. When no one was near, she watched them. It hurt, but she could not stop herself. And then she saw it. Sophie got up to leave. As she reached for a book, so did Jake. Their hands met on the book in a tentative tryst neither seemed to expect, then slipped apart even as their eyes locked together. Jake was first to look away. His eyes darted toward Maggie, and then back to Sophie. Maggie did not even have time to pretend to look elsewhere. She suffered a wound to her heart, fresh and stinging. She looked down at her desk, her face burning with--yes, it was--jealousy. She was forced to admit it. She felt it. And worse, he had seen it.

  How had she come to a point, in which moment to moment, her sense of contentment was so vitally linked to Jake O'Neill? A look or a gesture would send her into a vortex of self-doubt. She fought to control such feelings, for they were unreasonable. Worst of all, they were uncontrollable, and Maggie MacLaren had always maintained control over her emotions, unless she chose not to. She believed this to be true.

  Maggie strained to see Jake's face, but he pivoted slightly so she could only see Sophie's expression. That was not helpful. She looked damned near luminous. Yes, she was cursing. Soon the pair spoke parting words. Jake lagged behind, while Sophie walked briskly away. Maggie watched Jake watch Sophie leave. His eyes flew to hers, where they locked for an instant, and darted away. Maggie looked down at her books and immersed herself in a show of paperwork and flushed cheeks.

  She could not rid her mind of thoughts of Jake. No longer was he the mischievous boy, the playmate of her childhood. Around his eyes, she now saw tiny lines. The outside corners crinkled from laughter, while his forehead was creased from grief. He was a man. Their youthful bond had been broken, and he did not need her. Life was simple no longer. Events had unraveled what they once had, and it lay in a tangle. Maggie's life was not what she had supposed it would be, and the ache of it weighed on her spirit. With such ease, Sophie had slipped into Jake's life. Who was this girl to wedge herself between them so?

  "It's my own fault," she later said to herself, as she turned the key in the library lock and walked down the steps.

  Her friendship with Jake had been almost like a place where they could be. Together, they could be in a room with others, and yet feel apart, sharing looks and thoughts that no one else understood. Together, they could be who they were or wanted to be, not who people expected. No one had ever dared to sever the link they had shared for a lifetime. But that, she told herself, was a childish dream they had outgrown. They could no longer naively hide from life's harsh responsibilities. Dreams die. People die. Life goes on, but never as anyone plans or hopes.

  "I thought I could make life happen for me, not to me," she said aloud. The sound of her own quiet voice awoke Maggie from her thoughts. She sighed and walked purposefully on toward her home.

  Surely her mind was playing tricks on her, for as she looked across the street, she saw Jake. It couldn't be Jake, though. It merely looked like him because she had been thinking so much about him. She sped up her pace to catch up with him, but Sophie emerged from the shop where he'd been waiting. Maggie stopped, and the two walked on together. With a sinking gut feeling, Maggie found herself following, keeping her distance.

  That walk--that was Jake's walk--the angle at which he held his head when he glanced about to cross a street, so direct and so manly. So Jake. She'd grown used to him--taken for granted how attractive he was. It had happened before her, and she'd missed it. And now, from a distance she took it all in--how his angular jaw met a thick neck, which joined to broad shoulders and--the rest of him. Maggie sighed. The power his body boasted had once appeared so coarse in comparison to Andrew and the wealthy men like him. They had not battered their bodies with common labor. They had loftier ideals. But it all had been pretense, including her dreams. Andrew had proven himself to be just one more ordinary man, with a man's thoughts and desires, and a man's share of weakness. And I was no better. I let Jake down.

  Maggie followed them, not knowing why. She only knew it was Jake and she missed him. She now knew what a mistake she had made. He was gone, and she wanted to know where he went--she needed to see him take his new girl home so the final dagger would fatally stab her last hope of love and happiness and other such romantic nonsense. If she saw enough, perhaps then she might get him out of her heart.

  What if he walked into Sophie's house and never came out? What, then, would she do? Of course, she would hate him forever. And she would know at that moment that it would be forever--her loss of him. Maybe then she'd accept it. Unless... What if..."

  "Oh, what am I doing?"

  Increasingly aware of the sound of her shoes, she walked briskly along, trying to lift her feet noiselessly, but it slowed her down. Jake had long legs and a fast gait, and Sophie kept up with him, apparently unconcerned with the appearance of ladylike steps. Maggie would lag behind until a buggy would come along to cover the sound, then she would hasten to a near run to catch up, and then slow down in concert with the fading wagon wheels.

  Dusk turned to dark, as she began to master the technique of striding silently forward at a rushed pace. And then, with no warning, Jake turned around.

  She dodged into a recessed storefront doorway and cowered. Her breath caught in her throat as footsteps approached. She peered through the layers of glass. His shadow crossed the panes of the storefront display. She turned and leaned against the glass, pretended to look at the window display. She could hear him come closer. She waited, knowing she soon would be found out.

  Sinking back against the door, her breath burst forth in a sigh as she heard him retreating and walking on in his original direction. She waited until he sounded far enough away for her to emerge undetected, and then she stepped out onto the sidewalk. Maggie looked down the street just in time to see him disappear around a corner. She scurried along, brushing past anyone who got in her way. She couldn't lose him now. Why couldn't she? Because. Even her thoughts argued against her. Because, she chided herself, this was not reasonable behavior--or normal, for that matter.

  She walked past a doorway with the telltale saloon smells of stale beer and liquor, and sounds of raucous laughter and sour overtones of piano strings. A hand hooked its way around her elbow and pulled her back, nearly pulling her off balance.
/>   "Where you going in such a hurry?" A scruffy man in work clothes emerged from the shadows.

  "Not here," said Maggie.

  "What's your rush?" said the man with too bright a smile. He took hold of her arm and coaxed her along. "Let me buy you a drink."

  "No!" She pulled back her arm, but he gripped it too firmly. Her panicked heart hammered.

  "You're too pretty to be wandering around out here by yourself." His eyes narrowed and wandered over her face while his breath brushed her skin in warm, putrid waves.

  "Then I'd better be going," she said, sounding firm, but feeling anything but.

  "What you need is a little drink to calm you down. Come on, sweetheart."

  Maggie's stomach sickened. She yanked her arm free. As she turned to leave, two men walked out of the saloon. They were laughing and shoving each other. One bumped into Maggie's pursuer and knocked him off balance. She ran.

  He called after her, "I was just bein' friendly! Highfalutin' bitch!" His voice trailed off.

  Maggie breathed deeply to rid her nostrils of the smell of stale sweat, smoke and whiskey. It was several blocks before she was satisfied she had put enough distance between them to slow down. By then, she had lost track of Jake. She walked for a block more then stopped near a streetlight and sank down on a stoop. She smoothed her skirt over her ankles and looked at her hands. They were trembling. What had she been thinking? Walking alone after dark in this part of town was not the sort of thing nice young ladies did. She glanced up and down the street, but there was nothing but gaslight and darkness and no sign of Jake. She couldn't stay here. This was worse than the saloon, which at least had other people. Here there was no one to hear if she cried out--or cried. And she wanted to.

  She took a breath and stood up. With resolve, she walked down the street, trying to keep the smoke stacks behind her in hopes of making it in the general direction of home. She just wanted to be in her home again, safe and alone. At the end of the block, she heard voices. She knew the sound now, another saloon--or the same one. She edged herself forward until she could see around the corner. This was not the same saloon. She exhaled quickly. Saloon patrons hung about in various states of unsteadiness, but Jake was not among them. The longer she stood there, the more attention she began to draw from the male passersby. She had to move forward. While this part of town was not familiar to Maggie, she knew well enough that this place was not only unseemly, but as bad--maybe worse--than the last. Uneasiness wafted within and around her as she walked, toward nowhere in particular, just to keep moving. Ladies did not walk alone. Nice girls were escorted. It was not a safe thing for a young woman to do. All the things she had been taught rang in her ears.

  She stood at an intersection and looked about. The street ahead did not look promising, but she could not go back. Maggie shuddered and randomly chose to turn left. How could she have allowed herself to be so absorbed with the task of following Jake that she would pay so little attention to where she was? Anyone else could have kept track and found their way back home--but not Maggie. They used to tease her about getting lost on the way to the outhouse. Here she was, lost again. She walked along, afraid to stand still for fear of being accosted again, and afraid to move forward for fear of where it would take her.

  She passed by two couples on their way home from the saloons. The women were laughing. The men looked at Maggie with sly, appreciative eyes as they walked along past her. She quickened her pace and focused her eyes straight ahead. Her eyes narrowed to a near scowl as, with each intersection, she failed to find familiar territory. She tried to cling to hope but even that failed her. She was lost, and she hated herself for her weakness. She drifted along an ever darkening street until she reached a vacant intersection.

  Maggie stood at the crossroads looking down one way, then the other. She looked toward the mountains, hoping to get her bearings, but what the darkness did not hide, the factory smoke obliterated. Her eyes began to sting. She tried to swallow the tightness from her throat, but a tremulous panic rose to meet it. Maggie gravitated to a nearby stoop and sank onto its steps, dropping her head onto her hands and hoping no one would see her as she surrendered to cries that were soundless, but deep.

  I'm lost. I've lost Jake. And I've lost myself.

  Footsteps approached. Maggie stiffened her posture and leaned into the rail at the end of the step. She tried so to blend into the building. But the footsteps slowed down. She could make out the vague shape of a man in the darkness. He walked toward her. She got up and ran down the street. Behind her, hard gritty footsteps followed, running.

  Chapter 21

  Maggie ran. Short, percussive spurts of breath were all she could manage. Her throat ached and her chest burned with fear.

  "It is you!" A strong hand gripped her arm and pulled her to a stop. She gasped and exhaled in rapid, uneven breaths as she swung her arm at him. He caught it and bent toward her. She tried to call out, but her voice was raspy. The sound would not carry.

  "Maggie, it's me."

  She stopped struggling, but did not trust what she'd heard. "Who?"

  "It's me. Jake." She flew into his arms. Unprepared, he staggered back a step, then planted his feet firmly and wrapped his arms around her. He held her and stroked her shoulders and back. "What's happened? Maggie, you're shaking."

  With his strong and tender hands, he smoothed the hair and the tears from her face until her breathing grew even.

  "I got lost."

  "We're just a few blocks from the park."

  "We are?"

  "Yes, darlin'."

  She heard in the tone of his voice that he was smiling. She didn't mind it as much as she usually did. It felt good to be in his arms.

  He stepped back and held her shoulders as though examining her in the darkness, and then he slid his hands down to hold hers. In the same tone he used with his young sister, he said, "Now, what're you doing out here alone?"

  "Nothing."

  "Nothing?"

  "Yes," she sounded a little defensive.

  "You could have picked a better place."

  Maggie frowned, but was too relieved to be annoyed, which would have been her usual response. It didn't matter that she'd be in for a good teasing for this at some point in the future. All that mattered was now.

  "C'mon, let's go home." He held her hand while they walked.

  Maggie said nothing. Her mind raced, as she tried to come up with an explanation for her actions.

  They reached a streetlamp, and Jake looked over at her with a smile. "You're a mess." He stopped and held out his handkerchief. Maggie took it and lifted sheepish eyes. He just stood there towering above her, suppressing a grin. Maggie wiped her tears and other moisture from her face, and then blew her nose, and offered it back.

  With a wry grin he refused it.

  Maggie smiled gratefully as she withdrew her hand and shoved the soggy cloth into her pocket.

  And then he asked it. "What were you thinking?"

  She knew it was coming. She still had no sensible answer. "We've already discussed it. I went for a walk. Would you please take me home--or at least point the way?"

  His voice was low. "Were you following me?"

  Maggie winced. "Following you? She had tried, and tried hard, to come up with a reason--any reason--to be out in the night in this part of town. She'd never done anything close to this. Why now? She delved into the depths of her mind and came up blank. No reason. No excuse.

  She puffed herself up and said, "Isn't that just like a man? Why couldn't I just take a walk? Of course, if you want to think I was following you, well you can just think it. Personally, I find that a little self-centered, but--"

  "Maggie." He gently took hold of her chin and leveled a look that was hard to avoid.

  "Oh, damn it, Jake, yes. I was following you."

  With a shrug, he said, "I knew that you were. I just wanted to hear you admit it."

  "If you knew I was there, why didn't you help me?"

&n
bsp; "Help you?"

  "When that man--outside the saloon--"

  "What man?"

  "You didn't see?"

  "No. Did he hurt you? What happened?" Jake grabbed hold of her shoulders and looked in her eyes. His concern and his anger surprised her.

  "I'm fine now. He just got a little too friendly, that's all."

  Jake cursed as he pounded his thigh with his fist. "When I dropped Sophie off, you were gone. I've been looking for you ever since."

  "I'm sorry you had to cut short your date."

  Jake's head snapped toward her. "Date?" He studied her, and his mouth turned up at one corner. "Oh, my date. No, don't worry about it."

  "Good. I'd hate for that to happen." It took every bit of her effort to appear to mean that sincerely.

  "Are you sure you're okay?"

  "I'll be fine. I just need to go home and nurse my wounds." She'd crossed her arms, and was unconsciously rubbing the one that had been grabbed.

  "Are you sure he did hurt you? Let me take a look." He lifted her wrist and began to unbutton her cuff to examine her arm. She watched him for only a short, breathless moment, then withdrew her hand and buttoned her cuff. "I'm fine now."

  Jake searched her eyes until she smiled.

  Maggie said, "Really, I'm fine. He just wanted me to join him for a drink. He was a little too enthusiastic, is all."

  Jake lifted an eyebrow. His eyes narrowed.

  Maggie went on, "I was lost and a little afraid."

  "For good reason. I should have stopped you as soon as I saw you."

  She cast her eyes downward, and imagined him doing just that. In front of Sophie, the humiliation would have been unbearable. Of course, the present moment was not all that bearable, either.

  He looked at her, puzzled, then his face relaxed into a look that made Maggie melt from the warmth. "Why, Maggie?"

  Here it was--worse than what. He wanted an explanation, and he would not give up until he had it. She knew him too well. That didn't make her want to give one, but she was so weary. "I thought..." Maggie stopped. She took a fortifying breath. "If I could see you and Sophie together..." She cursed herself, and said it quickly to get it out and be done with it. "If I saw you together, it might make me not care." And it would etch in my memory the proof that you weren't mine anymore. That was over. Now, if she could just be excused to go vomit.