What the Heart Wants

by Marie Caron

  Some days Clara would give me a look that said she had heard my sobs during the night and thought I was crazy to carry on over a man who was so inappropriate for me. That first month she tried to get me to talk about my feelings, but I refused, telling her that I was fine, just missing Papa and wishing he were here. That was true, of course, but the truth was that I missed John even more. When Papa died, I had put all my hopes for the future on John’s shoulders. Now that he was gone, I had no hope left.

  It was during the fifth week of my new life in Sacramento when I got a surprise that was bittersweet.

  “Samantha, what on earth!” Mrs. Hudson exclaimed when she found me kneeling with my head in the toilet. She stood behind me while I retched, emptying my stomach into the shiny pot that I had just finished scrubbing. When I felt like my stomach had been turned inside out, I stood and pulled the flush chain. Esther was there with a dampened washcloth, and I gladly let her wipe my face with it. It had been a very long time since anyone had mothered me, and the thought of how alone I was and how much I missed both my father and John caused me to burst into tears.

  “There, there, dear. It isn’t that bad. Come. You’ll feel better soon. Why don’t you lie down for a while before supper?” she suggested kindly as she took my elbow and guided me down the hall to my room. I still had the tub to see to, but I didn’t argue with her. For some reason the smell of the lye soap I’d been using to clean the toilet and the tub had made me feel sick, and now all I wanted to do was get as far away from the smell as possible.

  “Actually I think I’d like some fresh air,” I said as I headed for the stairs. Esther followed me, clucking all the way like an old mother hen about how little I ate and how pale I looked. And, though I appreciated her concern, I wanted solitude and a chance to breathe in some clean outdoor air. “I’ll be fine, Mrs. Hudson. Truly I will. That soap is so strong. I just need a breath of fresh air,” I assured her as I ignored her suggestions that I eat something.

  I went through the kitchen and out onto the back porch where I stood staring at the snow-covered roof of the carriage house. There were several outbuildings on the property, including a washhouse, a stable, and the carriage house. I was thankful that Mrs. Hudson had remained inside to make tea, as I preferred to be alone in my misery. However, my solitude didn’t last more than a minute as Clara joined me at the porch rail. I could feel her big brown eyes studying my face.

  I turned my head to look at her. “What?”

  “I was just wondering something,” she said quietly. I clutched my shawl close to my throat to protect me from the chilly wind. It had snowed the day before, but the white blanket was looking a bit scruffy as the warmth of the winter sun peeked between the remaining clouds. Snow never lasted long in Sacramento.

  “If you’re going to tell me to forget him, I don’t want to hear it. Besides, this isn’t about Mr. O’Hara,” I claimed, my hackles up. I felt irritated; I was in no mood for one of her sermons about how John had taken advantage of me. I thought she’d given that topic a rest, or at least I’d hoped she had.

  “Isn’t it? I heard you losing your breakfast up there,” she said, lifting her chin toward the upstairs windows. “Come on, let’s go back inside. It’s cold out here,” she complained, and I let her pull me into the house. We sat at the small kitchen table with its blue-and-white oilcloth tablecloth, the lovely warmth from the cook stove seeping into our bones as we watched Mrs. Hudson put thick slices of bread into the wire toaster on top of the stove. With the exception of the teapot, the tea service was already arranged on the table in front of us. I noticed it was Esther’s favorite set of china, the one with the gold trim and dark pink roses. She’d told us several times that it had been a wedding gift when she and the colonel were married. Every time I drank from one of the delicate cups, I feared it would break in my hand. They were the sort of thing one should save for special occasions, and my being sick certainly didn’t qualify.

  “That lye soap is very strong. I’m sure breathing it in could make anyone sick,” I said, trying to excuse my illness. I truly believed what I was saying. I was never sick, so why else would I be feeling this way?

  Mrs. Hudson went into the pantry to fetch the tea leaves, and Clara leaned over the table toward me, her hand cupping her mouth. “The soap is strong, but I think there’s more to it than that. You didn’t have your woman’s time last month,” she whispered.

  I blinked at her, not sure what she was trying to say. Nevertheless I felt compelled to deny whatever accusation she was making. “I did so.”

  “No, you didn’t. If you’ll recall, when I had mine, we had to cut up a sheet.”

  “So?”

  “So, I did the laundry right alongside you for the entire month, and I never saw even one rag with your blood on it. You were alone with that man for days, and you’re obviously crazy about him. You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

  For a few seconds the world seemed to spin around me. When it steadied, I realized she was right. I hadn’t had my monthly flow since my ordeal among the Indians. How could I have been so stupid to forget something that important? I felt like such a complete fool that I put my face in my hands and wept. Mrs. Hudson came out of the pantry carrying the teapot. When she saw that I was crying, she put it down and rushed to my side.

  “Dear me, what is it now?” she asked, standing over me with an exasperated look on her otherwise-unlined face. I swallowed my tears and wiped my face with the handkerchief she handed me. It had a lacey edge, and her initials were embroidered on it. I used it sparingly, hating to soil it.

  “Just feeling a bit sorry for myself, I guess,” I told her.

  She turned back to the stove, removing the toasted bread and putting it on a flowered plate as I watched. I guessed she was in her late forties. Her light brown hair was untouched by gray, and her blue eyes were still clear. She was a very pretty woman who’d never been able to have children of her own, so Clara had told me, and I suspected she wasn’t enjoying her new role as a parent figure just now. I didn’t blame her one bit. If I were her, I would toss me out on my backside before the sun set. Clara could be disconcerting at times, but at least she had brains enough to keep her bloomers on. I, on the other hand, had failed miserably to protect my virginity.

  Esther set the plate on the table and went back to the stove to pour boiling water into the teapot. Clara leaned forward again, her eyes shooting sparks at me.

  “You have to tell her,” Clara insisted, and though I was reluctant to do so, I nodded in agreement. But apparently she couldn’t wait for me to get up the nerve to admit what a fool I’d been. The instant Mrs. Hudson returned carrying the teapot she announced, “She’s pregnant.”

  Esther turned white, lowered the teapot to the table with a resounding thump, and promptly fell into a chair, bumping the table and making the hand-painted, rose-covered teacups rattle in their saucers.

  “Oh, dear,” was all she could manage to say, but I was certain her next words, when she recovered, would be Get out!

  “I’ll pack my bags immediately,” I volunteered, sniffing back my tears. I would find a job somewhere else. Sacramento was a growing town, and a growing town needed many workers.

  “You will do no such thing,” Esther stated decisively, and then she got up and put her arms around my shoulders. “You girls can take our room. That little alcove will be perfect for the baby. Now drink some tea and eat a slice of toast. You need to keep up your strength,” she said as she poured tea into each of our cups.

  “But…you don’t want me to leave?” I was astounded by her generosity.

  “Of course I don’t want you to leave. You have become like a daughter to me.”

  “But the colonel…” I was about to say that I thought her husband might not share her opinion of me when a man opened the door and stepped into the room. He had jet-black hair and bright blue eyes, and even in my present mood, I noticed how handsome he was.

  “Please pardon the interruption, ladi
es. I wonder if one of you could assist me?” he asked, smiling, his hat in his hand. Although I had never seen him up close before, I knew that he had recently rented the small front bedroom on the second floor. Since he’d shown up at our front door four days earlier, Clara had gone on and on about him to me, and now she jumped up and hurried over to him, a wide smile on her face, her tea forgotten.

  “Mister Phillips, I’d be happy to help with whatever you need,” she gushed. He held the kitchen door open, and Clara glided through it. And, after giving Mrs. Hudson a nod, and me a long, curious look that made my breath catch in my throat, the dapper young man followed Clara out of the room.

  Mrs. Hudson patted my hand. “Now, let’s enjoy our tea and make plans for the future, shall we? When should we expect the addition to our family?” she asked, and I felt fresh tears gather in my eyes. Here I was, pregnant and unwed, and she was treating me and my baby like family.

  “I’m not certain. Six months…or less I suppose.” I knew it took around nine months to make a baby. Other than that I had no idea how to figure out exactly when my baby would make its entry into the world.

  “Good heavens, it’s no wonder you’re not feeling well. I want you to lie down for an hour every afternoon, but have some tea and buttered toast first. You must start taking better care of yourself. No more lifting heavy washtubs. Clara can manage them, or we’ll hire someone to help. I’ve been thinking we need a man around here to handle some of the heavier tasks anyway. I’ll speak to William about it this very evening.”

  Esther watched me while I ate two slices of toast and drank two cups of tea. I felt a little better, but I suspected that the most difficult times were still ahead of me.

  * * * *

  Later that day Colonel Hudson called me into the library, the room he and Mrs. Hudson used as their office. I was as nervous as a June bug on a hot sidewalk. If he wanted me gone, then no matter what Mrs. Hudson wanted, I would have to leave.

  “Esther has told me about your…condition. It is most unfortunate.” I felt like I had when I was a small child and had gotten caught eating a candy in school. William Hudson was about ten years older than his wife, and his hair was as silver as the vest he was wearing. I stared at the gold watch chain dangling from his pocket, afraid to meet his eyes. “Jacob would be very disappointed in you, young lady,” he said, and I felt ashamed.

  “I know, sir. I’m very sorry,” I told him honestly.

  “Esther and I have discussed your situation at length, and we feel it would be best if you stayed with us until you find a husband.”

  “Find a husband?” Was he joking? How was I supposed to find a husband in my condition?

  “Yes, of course. You can’t expect to raise a child without a father,” he stated.

  Suddenly the reality of my situation hit me like a ton of bricks. He was right; even if I lived here until the baby was born, I couldn’t rely on the generosity of my friends for the rest of the child’s life. It would need a proper family environment with a father and a mother. My head was reeling as I left the library. Though I felt like crawling into my bed and crying over my fate, I had work to do. I hurried to the kitchen to help Mrs. Hudson make dinner. When the food was ready and Clara and I had set the serving dishes on the ecru lace tablecloth, I hung back. I didn’t feel like being sociable, but Mrs. Hudson found me climbing the stairs and insisted that I join the group that had gathered in the dining room. I took the remaining seat and found myself bumping elbows with Mr. Crowley and Mr. Phillips. Mr. Crowley was a surgeon who worked at the new hospital. The other lodgers were the Gipson sisters, Ava and Elaine, who owned a milliner shop and had their own rooms, and of course Mr. Phillips, who worked at one of the banks. The fifth room on the top floor had not been rented yet, but I was certain it wouldn’t be vacant for long, as decent places to live in this booming town were in short supply.

  The Hudsons, Clara, and I completed the group. Soon the lively dinner conversation helped me forget my troubles. Mr. Crowley kept us all in stitches, no pun intended, and the Gipson sisters had tons of entertaining stories to relate about the time they had spent abroad.

  “I envy you. I would love to see Paris and Rome, but I’m certain I never will,” I said as a sadness I hadn’t felt before came sweeping over me. Not only was I a female without a way to earn the money required for travel, I was alone and pregnant. I stared at my plate, and the conversation continued, the two women, who looked enough alike to be twins, relating an experience they’d had at the state opera in Vienna. To my surprise Mr. Phillips bent his head toward mine and whispered in my ear.

  “Cheer up, Miss Collins. You never know; some rich man could come along and sweep you off your feet,” Mr. Phillips said. “In fact, I’m surprised it hasn’t happened already,” he quickly added. And though I wanted to deny the inference that I was attractive enough to have suitors of any sort, especially rich ones, I simply smiled and shook my head.

  After dinner I had to clear the table and do the dishes. Clara and I took turns cleaning up the kitchen, and tonight it was my turn. I was up to my elbows in hot, soapy water when I heard someone enter the kitchen behind me. Figuring it was just Mrs. Hudson or Clara, I didn’t turn around. The brush of air I felt on my neck startled me, causing me to drop a glass in the sink. “Oh!” I pulled my hand away, expecting to see blood, but there was none.

  “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to startle you,” a male voice said, and I turned my head and almost bumped noses with Mr. Phillips. “I hope you didn’t cut yourself,” he said as he stared into my eyes. He was so close that I could smell his shaving soap, the spicy scent tickling my nose so that I almost forgot my manners.

  “May I get something for you, Mister Phillips? Another cup of coffee?” I asked politely.

  “No, thank you, but I would like something,” he replied, his blue eyes sparkling in the lamplight as I dried my hands on a kitchen towel. He had stepped to one side, but he was still within arms’ reach, and his closeness was making me jittery. I was reminded of the incident with Captain Vincent, and I worried that this man was after something similar. Suddenly I felt anger rising in me. Why was I the target of such men? Was it something I did or said to make them think I had no morals? Have you any? After all, you did give yourself to a man you barely knew, I reminded myself.

  “Please call me Rodney. Actually, I was wondering if you’d take a walk with me…as soon as you’ve finished your duties, of course,” he continued, and my anger grew. Unable to hold it in, I lashed out at him.

  “Mister Phillips,” I said, stressing his surname, “You don’t know me, sir. If you did, you would know that I am not the sort of woman who takes walks with strange men,” I stated vehemently.

  “I’m truly sorry, Miss Collins. I didn’t mean to insult you.”

  “Well, you have,” I said petulantly. “Now…if you don’t mind, I have work to do,” I said, my fisted hands resting on my hips.

  “I will honor your wish to be left alone for now, but you should know that I don’t give up easily,” he said, and then he strutted out of the room.

  That night I dreamed I was riding in a carriage and the horses suddenly spooked and began galloping for all they were worth. I was thrown about the carriage, crying out for help. Suddenly the conveyance stopped, the door opened, and a hand reached in to help me down. When I stood on the firm ground and looked up at my rescuer, I was surprised to see Mr. Phillips smiling down at me. And then I woke up.

  Chapter 11

  Each day for the next two weeks, our handsome lodger seemed to find some excuse to speak to me, either alone or not, and on each occasion, I either ignored him or barely spoke to him. The Hudsons were noticeably concerned, and Clara was visibly upset that he had turned his attentions to me. I was upset too, but not for the same reason. I was determined to give our determined lodger no encouragement, hoping that he would eventually leave me alone. One afternoon the colonel called me into the library. I feared that this time would spell the end for
me, that my benefactor would tell me to leave his home immediately. I was certain that Mr. Phillips’ attentions were making me appear even more lacking in moral fiber. But I couldn’t have been more wrong.

  “We have ourselves a fine group of lodgers. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Yes, yes, they are very nice…and interesting too,” I replied. I felt confused. I had no idea why he was asking my opinion of the people living in the boarding house.

  “Yes, they are all outstanding people. Rodney Phillips is an exemplary young man, well educated and very well spoken. Did you know that he’s in training to take over the First National Bank branch here in Sacramento?” Colonel Hudson asked, as I perched nervously on the edge of a chair facing his desk.

  “Uh…no, I didn’t know that,” I admitted. The truth was that I hadn’t spoken to the man other than to ask him repeatedly to stop hounding me. And, though he had mentioned some of his duties at the bank at dinner, I had been so upset that I had not paid much attention.

  “Yes, he’s quite an excellent young man. He comes from one of the oldest families in Philadelphia,” he continued. “I dare say any woman would be proud to receive his attentions.” He gave me a stern, curious look, and the meaning of his words finally sank in. I had been rude to Mr. Phillips. That’s what this was about.

  “I’m sorry. I shall try to be more civil to Mr. Phillips,” I said meekly. I didn’t want to be thrown out onto the street, so if I needed to pretend to like Mr. Phillips, I would.