“Sorry doesn’t take away the pain, doesn’t begin to ease the heartache. You left me to scorn and pity. You left me alone. How could you?” I stared at him with tears in my eyes, gasping for air, begging him for a valid explanation, and then suddenly realized there would be no valid explanation. None existed.
“Get out, Cameron. I don’t want to hear any more excuses. That’s all they are, and I want nothing more to do with you.” I started to turn away, but he grabbed my arm, spinning me toward him.
“Don’t tell me that we are through, Clarissa,” he demanded in a low, urgent voice, fire in his eyes. “Don’t.”
I wrenched my arm but was unable to break free. I tried kicking him in the shin, but it had no effect. “Let me go. Now,” I ordered. We continued to stare at each other, both angry, breathing heavily.
“I believe Miss Clarissa asked you to let her go, sir,” a deep baritone voice interjected, breaking the tension of the room.
I jerked back, nearly falling, as Cameron suddenly freed my arm. I leaned heavily against my desk with my hand, still facing the room. I glanced at Gabriel standing in the doorway, delight and relief flooding me.
“I would thank you to not interfere in other people’s private business,” Cameron replied, half turning toward Gabriel, glaring at him.
Gabriel nodded mockingly with lips quirked. “Generally I do not, sir. But I do have business here.”
“You can’t mean…Rissa!”
“Cameron, leave,” I demanded, leaning more heavily against the desk for support.
He continued to stare at me and then glanced at Gabriel. “We aren’t finished,” Cameron said to me, eyes flashing.
“Cameron, we finished two years ago. Please accept that,” I said in a flat voice. I stared at him, attempting to betray no emotion.
Cameron noted my expression, though his appeared more mulish by the minute, until he finally turned and stormed out of the room.
Gabriel continued to study me, noting how I began to lean more and more heavily against the desk. “I’d sit, Miss Clarissa, before falling down,” he suggested.
I took his advice, turned toward my chair and collapsed. I had no reserves of strength left, feeling exhausted after the confrontation with Cameron. I glanced toward Gabriel. “Why can’t the ghosts of the past stay in the past?” I mused.
Gabriel gave a small smile. “Because then they wouldn’t be ghosts, darling.” He seemed to blush after using the endearment, but he crouched down in front of me taking my hand. He met my eyes, staring at me. “I should lie to you. Tell you that I didn’t hear most of that exchange. But I won’t. I couldn’t help but listen. A fascinating man, your Cameron.” He attempted to tease, but he continued to watch my reaction closely, concern for me evident in his expression.
My face crumbled, and I started to cry. He pulled me gently into his arms, easing me to a standing position, cradling me against his chest. He simply held me, brushing my hair softly with one of his big hands, crooning a song in my ear. I slowly started to calm, hiccupping against his chest.
“If I were a true gentleman,” Gabriel stated self mockingly, “I’d have a clean handkerchief to offer you. I don’t.” He smiled his apology, wiping the remnants of my tears away with his thumbs.
Belatedly I realized I did not want him to see me like this—red-eyed, with a blotchy face and a runny nose. However, he gently held onto me, looking into my eyes, not letting me turn away.
“You’ll be fine, Miss Clarissa,” he murmured. “You’re a strong woman with great spirit.” He watched me another moment before letting me go.
I turned away, searched for a handkerchief and dried my face. I turned back to find Gabriel watching me. “Why do you do that?”
“I am trying to discover the hidden aspects of you,” he replied, a warmth lighting his eyes.
“Mr. McLeod, I am sure that you will be disappointed. I am really rather simple.”
He chuckled. “With that, I must disagree.”
“Yes, well, be that as it may, I should return home soon. My family will start to wonder about me.” I turned toward my desk to gather my things.
“Of course. Might I escort you?”
“Yes, thank you. Mr. McLeod, why did you originally stop by today?”
“I came by to discuss the sideboard with you. You are no longer visiting the workshop. Therefore, I thought I would visit you. However, I need you to come to the workshop soon to give me your opinion on an idea I had.”
“Yes, of course. I could come by tomorrow, if I am not delayed by family members.”
He nodded in agreement, then offered his elbow to me as we departed.
I was unsure how to reestablish the relaxed camaraderie we had previously shared. It was a cold, damp afternoon, and I shivered with the chill. We walked slowly toward Cambridge Street, a large bustling venue crammed with carriages, delivery carts and trolleys. Nearby, two men yelled at each other as they attempted to right a cart that had tipped over, spilling sacks of flour. The sidewalks were crowded as people hustled to do their shopping or to hawk their wares. I shook my head “no” at a boy peddling half-ripened bananas.
As we entered Cambridge Street on my usual route home, Gabriel turned toward me, raising one eyebrow. “Trolley?” At my quick shake of denial, he sighed then said, “Home or Russell’s?”
“I’d like to go to Russell’s today.” After a short pause, I said, “I’m sure you are wondering about Cameron.” I peered up at him, to try to detect any signs of interest.
He glanced at me, nodding once.
“I met Cameron at one of my Aunt Betsy’s soirees in Quincy,” I began. “His family is well-to-do. Their wealth is from one of the railroads. And he studied to be a lawyer, though he never really worked. He was filled with light when my world had been in darkness for so long.” I whispered the last part, my voice trailing off as I became lost to memory.
“You don’t need to explain,” Gabriel said. “I have a decent understanding of what transpired.”
“Yes, well, then, that’s good.” I cleared my throat, desperately trying to think of another topic.
“Did you finish the book by Mark Twain, Miss Clarissa?” He gently steered me away from a pushcart, filled to overflowing with horse dung. I held my breath, trying not to inhale the smell. Gabriel watched me with a small grin, noting my reaction.
I let out my pent-up breath with a gasp. “Oh, the book! Yes, I did, and I found it quite enjoyable.” I smiled up at him.
“Yes, it is. I enjoy his storytelling. It’s interesting at the end, wouldn’t you agree?”
“You’d already read it?” I exclaimed.
“Of course. I can never resist a good book.” He smiled at me.
“Why did you have me read it to you then?” I demanded, flushing with embarrassment. I looked around Charles Street, noting the other fashionably dressed couples walking by.
“Miss Butler and your family were right. You do have a nice reading voice. It and your face come alive as you read. As though you travel to another place while you are in a story. Have you thought any more on travel, Miss Clarissa?”
“No. Why would I want to leave my family? Leave Boston? I have everything I want here.” I felt panic at the thought of another leave taking. I thought of Cameron, his departure from my life. My mama’s death. I looked up at Gabriel, meeting his inquisitive blue eyes, focusing on him. “I know you dream of travel.”
“Every time I open a book,” he agreed. “I promise myself I will travel to the place I read about.”
“When in my school room, you seemed fascinated by the western part of the United States. Was it Oregon?” I asked, curious despite myself.
“Yes, the West. But California, not Oregon. It still seems wild to me. Yet a man could build a life there.” He sounded wistful.
Our pace slowed, and I looked up to realize we had arrived at Russell’s. I had not focused on the walk, but on Gabriel and the conversation, almost completely unaware of the passing scen
ery.
“Ah, it appears we have reached our destination,” Gabriel murmured. He turned toward me, kissed the back of my gloved hand. “Come visit me soon.”
I felt shy, watching him leave until he was out of sight.
CHAPTER 24
COLIN ARRIVED AT THE SCHOOLHOUSE a few minutes after the children left and waited patiently as I tidied the room. He had learned, through gossip at the smithy, that I had been visiting Gabriel’s warehouse. After a tense conversation—where I explained I had visited to help Uncle Martin with his project for Savannah and where Colin appeared unconvinced there was not more occurring—he agreed to escort me to Gabriel’s workshop.
“Clarissa,” Florence called out, breezily entering the room. She stopped short when she saw Colin leaning against the far wall, looking out the window. “Oh, I beg your pardon. I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Florence said, twirling on her heel to scamper away.
“Florence!” I called out as she turned to leave. “Florence, please, I’d like you to meet my brother.” I rushed toward her, knowing I would drag her into the room if necessary. She had been very distant of late, and I needed to find a way to bridge the distance. “Colin, this is my friend Miss Butler. Florence, my brother, Colin Sullivan,” I said.
“Nice to meet you,” Colin said with a small nod.
“And you,” Florence said, smiling up at him. “It’s nice to meet someone from Clarissa’s family.”
“Where are you headed, Miss Butler? We could escort you part of the way, if it is in our direction,” Colin offered as we left the school.
“I am headed toward home, which isn’t far from here. I thank you for your kind offer,” she said, nodding to us both, walking in the opposite direction.
“She seems nice enough,” he commented. Colin turned us toward Gabriel’s warehouse and began walking at a measured pace, allowing me a chance to talk while I walked. We turned onto busy Causeway Street, dodging trolleys as we crossed to the other side. The large arched central entrance to the North Union Station bustled with passengers rushing toward trains. Carriages clogged the streets with those looking for their recently arrived friends or family.
“She’s very nice,” I replied. “I have invited her to the house a few times, but she has resisted.”
“Hmm…” Colin appeared lost in thought. “I doubt Mrs. Smythe would like her. She seems a little too…simple…for her.”
I grimaced at his choice of words, feeling that they did Florence a disservice. “She is poor, Colin,” I contradicted him. “And yet she is making her own way in this world as a single woman. I have to admire her.” I looked at him with a challenging tilt to my chin.
“Don’t get all worked up, Rissa. I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant, I wouldn’t want her to have to suffer Mrs. Smythe’s snobbery.”
I laughed. “Yes, I can agree with that. Florence is all alone in the world now. No family.”
“None?” Colin asked, the sadness lighting his eyes mirroring mine.
“No, none. Although I think Florence knew Richard McLeod, maybe quite well in the past, but I haven’t heard the story yet.”
“You mean you haven’t tricked her into telling you the truth?” Colin teased. “Don’t look to me to help you ferret out information, Rissa.”
We arrived at the workshop about twenty minutes after leaving the school. The door was slightly ajar, and Colin knocked lightly but stuck his head in before waiting for a response. “Hello there!” Colin called out.
“Hello.”
I heard Gabriel’s deep voice. Colin pushed open the door, and we entered.
I watched Gabriel approach us, unable to suppress a smile. Colin glanced at me, grinning, sending me a quick wink.
“It’s Colin, isn’t it?” Gabriel asked. At Colin’s jaunty nod, Gabriel said, “Great to see you.” He shook Colin’s hand then clapped him on the back.
I watched, amazed at men’s interactions and greetings. This informality seemed much more welcoming than a bow, a nod or tipping one’s hat.
Gabriel turned toward me. “Miss Sullivan. Nice to see you again. I’ve just brewed a pot of tea.” He motioned for us to follow him. We walked over to the dust-covered table where Colin sat comfortably at one of the large chairs. I moved toward the rocking chair. Colin took in all the details, missing nothing, noting my different chair and my familiarity with the room.
I looked around. “Mr. McLeod, you have worked on many new pieces,” I said in an attempt to turn Colin’s attention from me.
“Yes, miss. I have had plenty of work lately. There has been an increased interest in my work since the display for your uncle.”
Colin nodded, smiling. “Uncle has always had good taste. It’s one of the reasons he’s so successful as a linen merchant.”
We sat in a pleasant silence for a few moments before Colin spoke up. “Gabe, has Rich recovered from his fight with your cousin?”
“Richard is fine. I think you have the story backward, Colin. It’s Cousin Henry who needed to see the doctor, not Richard,” Gabriel said with pride.
Gabriel smiled tenderly at me, and I smiled back. We shared a long glance, interrupted only by Colin’s noisy slurp of tea. I jolted as I glanced toward Colin, appalled to have been caught staring at Gabriel.
“I imagine you came about the sideboard,” Gabriel said. We rose from our chairs to walk toward his workbench.
“Now, miss, I would like your opinion,” Gabriel said. “I have been looking at the sideboard design, and I’ve constructed the bottom part. It seems rather plain to me. I know your uncle stated that he wanted a simple, clean piece. ‘Simple but spectacular’ are words I think he used.” He paused to study the drawings pegged over his workbench.
I leaned in too, noting the various changes to the sketches that had occurred as he had progressed on the piece.
Gabriel studied me as I examined the drawing. He turned to Colin, including him in the conversation. “But I can’t imagine your uncle wanted something this plain.”
“What do you suggest, Gabe?” Colin asked. “You could have Richard make you some fancy door pulls, which would spruce it up.”
Gabriel nodded, seeming to think over Colin’s words. “I think Rich will help me with that.” He pointed to his sketch with a sharpened pencil. “In this original drawing, I had a simple shelf over the main serving area. Perfect for displaying knickknacks, china, whatever. But it’s not spectacular.”
He pulled out a revised sketch. “My new design is to continue with the upper shelf but add more decorative molding to the top.” He paused to tap on the area for emphasis. “I think this area would benefit from a mirror, with minimal molding around the edges. It would enhance the beauty of the piece, allowing candlelight’s reflection.”
I squinted, studying the sideboard’s before and after drawings. Then I looked toward the already finished portion. “As long as the simple beauty, the fine lines of the bottom half, are continued along the top, I think a mirror would be a nice addition,” I said in agreement.
“This is beautiful.” I moved toward it, tracing the wood gently with my fingers leaving tracks in the dust. The sideboard’s main shelf tapered out to curved edges. The feet were simply carved, not the ornate lion’s feet I was accustomed to in the more decorative sideboards. Around the edge of each drawer was a delicate inlay of lighter colored rosewood. I traced it, asking, “Will you stain the wood?”
“Yes, though I will use a clear stain. More like a sealant. I like the natural color of mahogany.” Gabriel also reached out to touch the sideboard. His hands came away covered in fine wood dust before rubbing his hands on his pants.
“Gabe, this is great work,” Colin said. “What else are you working on?”
Gabriel turned toward Colin, guiding him through the workshop, with Gabriel showing Colin partially completed pieces.
Colin seemed impressed. “When are you going to take on an apprentice?” Colin inquired.
“I haven’t decided yet. The recent
upswing is still relatively new for me. I want to wait to see if it lasts. Also, as I am sure you understand, more and more of what I do is now done by machines. I worry that I soon won’t be needed in this new economy.”
“Gabe, when people see your sideboard at the wedding, you will be in demand,” Colin effused. “No machine can create what you can make.”
“Hmm…maybe not. But I’m finding many willing to sacrifice quality and craftsmanship for price.”
“Yes, I understand,” Colin murmured. “Da worries we’ll soon be obsolete in this new world of machines.” He and Gabriel shared a long knowing look filled with understanding of the other’s concerns.
“Well, I must return to work. And Rissa should travel home before anyone misses her. Thanks for the tour, Gabe,” Colin said, extending his hand, firmly clasping Gabriel’s.
“Good-bye, Colin. Good-bye, miss, ah…Miss Sullivan,” Gabriel said with a soft smile and a small nod.
“Good-bye, Mr. McLeod.”
We made our way down the stairs, and I stepped onto the sidewalk. A group of men sat outside a warehouse relaxing between jobs, their sweat-stained shirts partially unbuttoned in the heat. I looked down the street to see a cart overturned.
“One man’s misfortune…” I said with a smile as I nodded toward the cart blocking the street entrance and the men relaxing.
“I bet they’re excited to finally have a short rest,” Colin said with a smile. “It’s a warm day for such work, although it’s only going to become worse with summer approaching.”
We continued to walk down Canal Street toward Haymarket Square. “Gabe does great work,” Colin said.
“Beautiful work,” I agreed, attempting to hide my enthusiasm.
“I imagine a man with his talents will never be out of work,” he replied. “I would think he makes a good living.”
“I suppose,” I said. I smiled toward Colin as though I did not know his game.
“Come on, Rissa,” he said, exasperation tingeing his voice. “You know you think he would make someone a good husband.”
“I’ve said no such thing,” I replied.
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