“I’m just saying you should think about it, Rissa,” he responded with a smile in his voice. “You could do worse.” We maneuvered our way to the trolley kiosk, narrowly avoiding a pair of draft horses and a determined driver. Colin called out his anger to him, raising his fist as I’d seen people do in the North End, and I smiled at his antics. He squeezed my arm, but before he left me for the rest of my trip home, he leaned in, murmuring in my ear, “If you want to see him again, just ask.”
I nodded, a smile breaking out, unable to hide my pleasure.
“Tomorrow, then?” he asked with an answering grin.
I nodded with a lightened spirit. He watched me board the trolley, leaving me to the rest of my trip home, as he returned to work with Da.
***
COLIN SAT ON THE FRONT STEPS of the school, twirling his hat in his hands as he waited for me the next day. The sunny day highlighted the red in his auburn hair. He smiled to those who walked past and called out encouragement to a group of young boys playing soccer in the street.
“Ah, I love spring,” he said when he saw me, soaking in the rays of late May. He rose, donning his hat, offering me his arm. As we walked toward Gabriel’s workshop, Colin turned toward me with a worried expression.
“How long has it been since you’ve seen Cameron?”
I tripped on one of the cobbled bricks. “Cameron? Not since he came by the school after the soiree.”
“I’m pretty sure I saw him walk by the school today. He saw me sitting on the steps and kept on walking. I became distracted when the ball the boys were kicking around in the street nearly hit me, and, when I looked again, he was gone.”
“He knows I’m not interested in him, Col. I’m sure I won’t see him again.”
Colin raised one eyebrow. “Well, if you see him, tell me. I won’t talk with Da about this, but I will have to if Cameron tries to speak with you again.”
“No, Col. Don’t tell Da. Then you’ll have to explain to him why you are away so long from the smithy with me. About Gabriel…”
“Let’s not worry about it yet. As it happens, I’m afraid I will only be with you a few short minutes today. I’ll need to leave you soon after we arrive ’cause I don’t want to make Da suspicious. He hasn’t heard any of the rumors, and I don’t know how he’d react.”
Colin and I shared a long look.
Then Colin smiled impishly. “Don’t let my early departure shorten your visit.”
“Colin!” I gasped. “I thought you were worried about my reputation.”
“I am, that’s why I am escorting you there,” he said.
“And that’s why you should also escort me home,” I said as I tried to hide a smile.
“Oh, well, you know me. I’ll never be completely proper,” he said with a mischievous grin, wriggling his eyebrows at me.
We arrived at Gabriel’s workshop, with sunshine and fresh air streaming in through the large open windows. “Hi, Gabe!” Colin called out.
Gabriel stood at the workbench, bent over, chiseling a piece of wood. He spun around at our arrival, surprise then happiness flitting across his features. “Colin, Miss Sullivan. It’s nice to see you again so soon.” He wiped his dusty hands on his workpants, though only succeeded in making them dustier. He reached out his hand to shake Colin’s and nodded at me. “I’m afraid I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Don’t worry. We thought we would just come by, see if there was any progress,” Colin said.
“There won’t be much in just one day, Colin,” Gabriel said.
“Yes, of course,” Colin agreed. “Well, I must leave Clarissa to discuss the bookshelves with you and return to work.” He looked at me with amusement in his gaze. “Gabe.” He nodded to us, winking at me as he strolled out the door. I listened to the heavy thumps of his steps down the stairs, feeling an awkward silence descend.
I blushed, knowing that Colin had been quite transparent. “Mr. McLeod, please pardon the interruption.” I waved toward his workbench, encouraging him to keep working.
He watched me closely before nodding his agreement. “Please make yourself comfortable, Miss Clarissa,” he encouraged. I saw the hint of a small smile at the corner of his mouth.
I moved around the room, watching him continue to work. I walked toward the table and the rocking chair. I gingerly sat down and slowly relaxed in the rocking chair Gabriel had made, closing my eyes for a moment, relishing the opportunity to listen to him work. He began to whistle off-key an unknown tune. A whimsical, joyful tune that continued on and on with few repeats of any one part of the song. I heard a whisper of the ragtime song Lucas had played last month, but the piece quickly changed, and I couldn’t place it.
“What are you smiling about?” he asked, interrupting my peaceful reverie.
I opened my eyes, a slight grin playing around my mouth, tilting my head toward him to find him studying me with a tender expression. I continued to rest my head against the back of the chair, meeting his gaze. “At the whimsy of your whistling,” I admitted. “You whistle with such enthusiasm, though it’s all off-key,” I teased, making him laugh. “I don’t know the song. What’s the name of it?”
He studied me, as though weighing his answer. He gently cleared his throat and met my gaze with a chagrined expression. “I only whistle when I am happy,” he admitted softly. “And I make up it up as I go along. I tend to combine different songs that I have heard into one long piece.”
I smiled again, my heart lifting at his quiet admission. “So it’s called ‘Gabriel’s Happiness’?”
He smiled fully, the smile that always took me by surprise because of its rarity, the dimple flashing in his right cheek. “Yes, I guess that’s what it’s called,” he agreed, holding my gaze. We continued to stare into each other’s eyes until there was a loud knocking at the partially open door.
I started, nearly toppling out of the rocking chair. I knew I blushed beet red at the further evidence of my clumsiness and hastily righted myself. Gabriel, upon seeing me nearly land on the floor, rushed to help me up, yet found his help was not necessary. By the time he maneuvered his way around the table, I was sitting crimson faced in the rocking chair. I was reluctant to meet his gaze, not wanting to see what it held.
I finally glanced up to find Gabriel stared at me with tender understanding, a trace of humor lurking in his eyes. When I continued to blush, he smiled fully. I waved toward the door.
“Yes, Miss Clarissa,” he murmured, “I will go to the door. But first, are you settled?”
“Yes, perfectly settled,” I said. I patted the arms of the rocking chair, trying to indicate it was a sturdy seat but instead felt silly.
He continued to smile as he walked toward the door, his boots sounding on the floor.
“Hello? Can I help you?” Gabriel asked in a jovial voice. I heard quiet murmurings from the doorway and then footsteps retreating down the stairs.
I looked toward Gabriel. “Who was that?” I asked.
“Oh, the mailman,” he responded, throwing down a pile of mail on the dusty desk in the corner. “He knows I am looking for a letter from my brother, and I can tell by his face when there isn’t one.”
I nodded, unsure what to say. “It must be hard to be separated from him,” I said, feeling like an idiot the minute the words were out of my mouth.
“Yes, terrible,” he admitted. “But he wanted to enter the army, and he got his wish. I am very proud of him.” Then he sighed, smiling at me sadly. “Now I just wish he would come home, in one piece.”
“Where is he?” I asked.
“The Philippines. I hope that every time they announce a treaty, he will return to us. But, Richard and I’ve heard nothing,” he said.
I half smiled, not knowing anything to say to comfort, but wanting to give encouragement. “I hope he comes home soon to you. Healthy and happy.”
“‘From your mouth to God’s ear’ as my da would say, miss,” Gabriel said, smiling at me. He turned toward his workbench.
“I must return home,” I said. I rose, gathering my purse. I stood fidgeting by the table, fingers nervously tapping the tabletop.
“I hope you are able to return soon, Miss Clarissa,” he said, watching me longingly before he began to walk toward me, stopping in front of me.
I held my breath uncertain what he would do, watching him with curious, nervous eyes. He gazed at me intently, slowly leaning toward me. I felt my heart begin to race. My eyes fluttered closed as his lips neared mine, and I subtly leaned in toward him. He gently kissed me, a whisper of a kiss. His lips were soft, softer than I had imagined they would be. He slowly leaned away, and I felt him gently caress the side of my cheek as my eyes slowly fluttered open again. I watched him in wonder, feeling my heart beat an erratic tattoo in my chest.
“Until you return, Miss Clarissa,” he said, dropping his hand, backing up a step.
I nodded, unable to say anything. I turned absently, pausing on the landing to gather my thoughts and to calm my racing heartbeat.
I stumbled onto the street, feeling blinded by the bright sunlight. Cameron had kissed me, although all I remembered from his kisses was a hard pressing together of lips. I could not remember ever being affected in such a way.
CHAPTER 25
ON A HOT SUMMER DAY in early June, Colin escorted me to Gabriel’s workshop. The sideboard was virtually done, only needing a few coats of varnish. I enjoyed watching the subtle changes, cataloging the alterations Gabriel made on a near daily basis.
Today, after Colin left, Gabriel continued sanding a piece of wood at his workbench. He appeared lost in thought, enjoying his work.
“Do you mind my visit today?” I asked.
“Well, miss, I welcome the company but must keep working.” He looked at me as though hoping I would understand.
“Of course,” I said. “I’ll just sit for a few minutes, if you don’t mind.”
He smiled, waving me toward what I considered my chair. “Did you bring a book today, Miss Clarissa?”
“No, I haven’t been by the library recently.”
I slowly began to rock, relaxing with the sound of sanding wood. I waited a few moments to see if he would whistle, but he remained silent. “May I ask you a question, Mr. McLeod?”
“You may. Though I may not answer it,” he replied, looking at me over his shoulder with a grin. I enjoyed watching him work, his long arms and strong shoulders fluidly moving together to sand the wood.
“If you had such a hard time with the Mastersons, why didn’t you live with other family members?”
“You are very curious, aren’t you, Miss Clarissa?” he asked. He sighed, massaging the back of his neck. “Well, I think you’ve earned the right to your curiosity.”
He turned back toward the wood, beginning to carefully sand, although I couldn’t tell if he was concentrating on the story or the wood.
“You must understand, I had no other family to live with, or I would never have lived with her. My brothers and I, we always dreamt about escaping the oppressive atmosphere of the Mastersons. But we knew we had nowhere to go. Our only other living relative, our father’s brother, Uncle Aidan, had never returned to Boston after the fire. For all we knew, he died at sea during one of his journeys.” His gaze appeared distant, as though remembering long-ago scenes. He sanded once more, the sound a soothing balm to his difficult tale.
Then he stopped sanding, turning toward me and met my gaze with a sad smile. “I slowly lost hope that he would ever return and look for us. We were too young to live on our own, and we had heard enough about the hard life of children living on the streets or in orphanages. I didn’t relish being sent on one of those orphan trains, being separated from my brothers. Aunt threatened us with it weekly.”
He rolled his shoulders, as though dispelling the thought of being separated from his brothers. He turned back to the wood, picking up the sandpaper, although lost in thought, for he didn’t begin to sand.
“Even though we were shown no love, no affection, we always had food and shelter and received an education. As the elder brother, I tried to be mother and father to my younger brothers.
“There was very little love in the Masterson household. What there was of it, none was spared to come around to us. Aunt rarely hugged her children. Their only praise came when they did well in school. It seemed she often forgot she had children. She had three maids, and they appeared to do most of the child rearing. Uncle Masterson was never home, always working. I began to suspect that he preferred the office to home. Aunt Masterson did not complain, as his success led to more prestige for her. And more wealth.”
I continued to rock, watching anger and sadness flit across his face as he spoke of his past.
“Aunt Masterson believed that if we did something wrong, we needed to be punished. She relished corporal punishment and took great joy in beating us. To prevent punishment, our two cousins often blamed us for their misdeeds. Our punishment was always more harsh than theirs.” I saw him flex his fingers while he pondered this. “Aunt Masterson could not believe that her children were capable of wrongdoings when her sister’s brats were the true hellions. Because my brothers were younger, I frequently tried to take the blame for them. I wanted them to have a decent childhood. I had known happiness until age twelve. I didn’t want them to only think of loneliness, fear and pain.
“For me, Old Mr. Smithers was the man, other than my da, who helped shape me. He let me spend time in this carpentry shop. I enjoyed it here. The workshop was always warm. He had food and a pot of tea. He also listened. Never judging. Only listened,” he said with a small smile. “You can’t know how much a young boy just needs to talk sometimes. Mr. Smithers had that uncanny ability to listen, say a few words and point me in the right direction.”
Gabriel glanced around the workshop, as though envisioning the space with Mr. Smithers.
“He put me to work. Over time, he taught me all he knew about carpentry and cabinetmaking. I eventually left school to apprentice with him full-time, learning the craft, and spent seven years as an apprentice, though I didn’t live with him.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“I would have found that much more agreeable, but I couldn’t leave my brothers alone with Aunt Masterson. When I had learned all I needed to learn to be a master cabinetmaker, I built a sideboard for the guild. They liked it, and I was considered a Master.” His voice rang with pride as he remembered that day. “However, I didn’t leave Mr. Smithers like so many thought I would. I liked working with him. There was enough work for the two of us, and he was like family to me.” He smiled at the memory.
“When did you finally move away from your aunt?” I asked.
“After I became a Master, and after nine years with the Mastersons, we moved out. I had learned enough from Old Mr. Smithers to start selling my own furniture. I knew it would be hard. I couldn’t stay there any longer. Richard and Cousin Henry were in near daily fights. I worried that Richard would eventually run away. I wanted my brothers to have a chance to live elsewhere. We rented a cheap tenement room with Mrs. Capuano in the North End and eked out a living. I continued to work with Mr. Smithers in his shop. We survived.” He paused, as though finished.
“What happened to Mr. Smithers?”
“He died two years ago. He left me his workshop and his tools. More importantly, he passed on his great knowledge. His customers had met me, known me for years. I thought my business would continue to grow.” He sighed, massaging the back of his neck, rolling his shoulders, trying to calm the tension he appeared to be feeling.
“However, Aunt Masterson started to spread rumors about me, insinuating that I had led to Mr. Smithers’s death. When I first heard the rumors, I thought it a joke. Why would I have hurt the man I loved like a father? But the murmurings continued. I had been the one to find him dead at the shop. The doctor said his heart gave out. He was over seventy. Smoked like a chimney, though not in the workshop.”
Gabriel looked at me.
“But the damage was done. My business slowly dwindled. Thankfully, by this time, Richard worked at the smithy, and we could continue to live independently. I am hopeful that your uncle’s patronage will restore my reputation as a cabinetmaker.”
“Why did Aunt Masterson dislike you so much?” I knew I had already asked him this, but I couldn’t imagine one of my aunts treating me in such a manner.
Gabriel sighed, tossing the sandpaper back and forth in his hands before finally tossing it onto the workbench, bitterness lacing his voice. “I am not certain. She did say numerous times that my mum had married a worthless man. In her eyes, my mum’s children were worthless due to their father.”
I rose, walking toward him. I gripped his arm gently, looking at him beseechingly with large rounded eyes. “You are not worthless,” I said.
Gabriel blushed, looking at me abashed. He appeared uncomfortable at all that he had revealed to me.
“I am confused about something,” I stated, thinking back to the conversation that his Aunt Masterson had had with Mrs. Smythe at my house over tea. “If she thought you might have killed someone, why would she want you to work with her husband?”
“Oh, she is a sly woman, never underestimate her. She came by one day, as my business was at a standstill. She appeared very worried about the rumors. Very solicitous of my well-being. Ensuring me that she did not believe a word of what she had heard. However, since I was having such a hard time making a living as a cabinetmaker, why not join my uncle’s firm?”
“That was her intention, wasn’t it?”
“Exactly, ruin me, make me desperate to the point where I would feel my only choice was to work for my uncle. I had no intention of entering her sphere of influence again. She continues to come by the warehouse every few months, to determine if I am still in business. It is her way to taunt me, show me that she can still manipulate my life.”
“Ga…Mr. McLeod,” I quickly corrected myself, absently reaching out to grip his hand for a moment. “I know how hard it can be to speak of the past and the pain that still seems too fresh though it is from years ago. Thank you for sharing it with me.”
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