All The Blue of Heaven (Colors of Faith)

by Carmichael, Virginia

  Mateo lead the way to the mare’s stall, his rough work trousers still fairly clean even though the morning was half-way gone. Thomas always seemed to get as filthy as humanly possible. His mother claimed she was going to lose her mind if he brought in one more piece of straw. He had taken to bathing and changing in the guest quarters and bundling his work clothes into a sack. Still the bits of straw appeared. He told her it was better than the other items that could be found on the barn floor.

  Thomas glanced back at the open door, where Joe Totten leaned against the double-wide opening. He was arguing with another carriage man, and his tone grew rough. Thomas frowned, wishing Totten would wait outside, especially if he was going to pick a fight. As he stood there watching the men gesture angrily, he caught a clear glimpse of Allie Hathaway’s lovely face. She sped by, framed in a passing carriage window. Her dark blue hat covered most of her curls and her face was pale. He wondered if she had slept at all.

  His heart jumped as his brain registered every detail of the fleeting image. The carriage headed down Elizabeth Street, horses moving at a quick clip.

  All it took was one glimpse, and he felt untethered, loose. She had been untouchable, unreachable for so long, and now she rides past in the middle of the day, like a runaway stagecoach. Part of him whooped with joy, and the other groaned in despair. How would he ever learn to prepare himself for this kind of moment? Lord, give me strength to be so near her again. He took a shaky breath and tried to refocus on the task at hand.

  “Mr. Bradford?” Mateo’s hesitant voice registered over the din of the busy barn.

  Thomas straightened up and swung around, hand reaching for the horse’s bridle. Mateo’s hands were empty. He watchedThomas with an expression that was hard to decipher.

  He had forgotten the mare was already tied in the last stall. “Do you need something?” Thomas barked out the question and felt warmth creep into his cheeks. He must look unhinged, staring out the door like that, motionless.

  “No, I am waiting to assist you. Do you know that woman?” Mateo tilted his head toward the open door, where he must have seen Allie pass. His dark eyes were fixed on Thomas’s face, sparkling with curiosity.

  “Yes,” Thomas said, his tone short.

  Mateo stood watching Thomas, saying nothing but his posture spoke volumes. Thomas endeavored to ignore him. There was no way to explain his reaction to that once glimpse of her face and he wasn’t going to try.

  Of course, Mateo knew about love. In the two years he had worked for Thomas, he spoke freely of the beautiful Josefina, now his wife. He could wax on for hours, if left uninterrupted. She came by last week to bring Mateo a small lunch pail of fragrant pasta in tomato sauce and Thomas had noted her rounded figure. If he wasn’t mistaken, in a few months, Mateo would have another topic of delight.

  Mateo’s mouth twitched. “Ah, I never believe I will see this day.”

  “And what day is that?” Thomas fixed Mateo with a baleful stare that did not prevent the answer he knew was coming.

  “The day that Mr. Bradford fall in-a love,” Mateo crowed, eyes crinkled in laughter. He pushed his cap back on his head and folded his arms across his powerful chest. Short and strong, he was the perfect equine assistant. But at this moment, Thomas wished he had never hired the merry Italian.

  “You’re mistaken,” he snapped and turned to stride through the dim barn, dust swirling in clouds with every stomp of his feet. He dodged an errand boy who was too busy gawking at the horses to watch where he was going. Thomas worked to control his emotions as he grabbed his black leather notebook from a small set of shelves near the wall.

  “If you say it, Mr. Bradford,” Mateo said, chuckling. He stepped into the stall and checked that the reigns were secure before they began the mare’s examination.

  Thomas flicked open the book where he kept his patients’ information. He found Mansfield’s name, checked the health history and made note of the date. Then he paused, struggling to regain his usual calm.

  Thomas glared into the middle distance of the barn. His heart thumped in anger and he didn’t understand why. So Mateo noted his intense reaction to that one small glimpse of Allie. That was no disaster, no reason to be abrupt. If he was truly honest, the question that really nagged at him was whether his feelings were that obvious to everyone. Had Allie taken one look at his face and realized he had never stopped loving her? Is that why she shied away from his touch? She was too good of a woman to encourage him, despite the fact he was now in a far better position than he had been when he first proposed. I must look like a lovelorn puppy. He felt his stomach twist at the thought.

  “Mateo,” Thomas said as he turned back to the stall.

  “Yes, Mr. Bradford?” His assistant paused, one large hand gripping the metal hoof pick.

  “I am sorry for my tone.” It was easy to apologize to Mateo. The man was as good-natured as any he had ever met.

  Mateo nodded, his expression somber for once. “It is no problem. I must not make a joke when I do not know the lady. Perhaps she is married. Perhaps she is already promised to a man and you cannot bear to see –”

  “The young lady is not married and I don’t know what she is promising, but I can certainly bear to see her. ” Thomas gritted his teeth and stopped talking.

  Mateo said nothing, but he smiled in response.

  “Can we go on with our day?”

  “Of course, Mr. Bradford,” Mateo said, his face perfectly impassive, eyes still crinkled in laughter.

  Marco trotted up to them, leading a deep roan mare on one side and a glistening chestnut on the other. Thomas directed him to the next set of stalls and waved to the Mr. Cole. Thomas was relieved beyond reason to see Mr. Cole and his horses. Mrs. Leeds’ carriage man had served her well in the years since Thomas had left for school. He was particular about the horses’ care, even plaiting their manes with lead so they would lay perfectly flat.

  But before he would see Cole’s two, and all the rest of the horses, he had to regain his focus.

  Mateo handed him the long, wooden stethoscope and secure the mare. Thomas placed the bell end behind one silky front elbow. As the steady rhythmic thump of the healthy heart reached his ear, Thomas wished that everything was as straight-forward as caring for these gentle giants.

  Thomas and Cole had developed an easy friendship based on mutual appreciation. Thomas appreciated Cole’s care for the animals, and Cole seemed to appreciate Thomas’s expertise. Cole’s small, steady eyes and long face always made Thomas think of a fox, and he sensed Cole also had keen intellect behind his quiet disposition.

  He offered Thomas his hand as they approached. “The mayor’s stallion is a spirited beast.”

  “A little too much spirit for a carriage horse, I hear.” Thomas grinned. “The animal needs to be where he can be of good use.”

  Cole raised his eyebrows. “The life of a stud is serious business. They must rise at dawn and spend all day working.”

  “True. So he better send him out while he’s young and energetic,” he said, chuckling.

  ***

  The sky was heavy with dark clouds and the air was oppressively still. The door of Morton’s Fine Clothing swung closed behind them, accompanied by a light tinkle of bells strung on a ribbon. The noise of the street cars was muted by the heavy shop door, but a billow of muggy heat followed them into the dim interior.

  “It’s wonderful to see you again, Miss Hathaway,” Mr. Morton said, hurrying forward and taking Allie’s proffered hand. “I have every newspaper article that mentioned your successes. Is it true that you painted the portrait of President William McKinley?”

  Allie glanced at her mother’s pinched expression and wished Mr. Morton had not asked.

  “Yes, his wife asked me to paint his portrait when they came to California. She wasn’t well and I think he was trying to make her happy.” Her lips quirked up in a half smile. “He told me that I should buy a camera because no one was going to buy paintings anymore. And
he never stopped moving.”

  “So, so sad to hear he was assassinated,” Mr. Morton said, shaking his head. “But it must have been especially terrible for you, since you were friends.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t say we were friends, Mr. Morton,” she began but he held up a finger.

  His gaze flicked up and down her dress. “Is this still the fashion in San Francisco? We are a bit ahead of the styles, but this,” he motioned toward the straight line falling from the high waist, “and this large puff sleeve, is rather old fashioned. It is now more fitted.”

  “I’m sure you’re correct, Mr. Morton. Most of my gowns were lost in the earthquake and this was in my trunk at home.”

  “Ah, yes, about eight years old, then?” He narrowed his eyes and looked again at the fabric. “I can adjust the style, perhaps add some trimmery. And you would be wanting other dresses made, I assume.”

  Mrs. Leeds stepped to Allie’s side and said, “She will need at least five everyday dresses and four gowns for the mid-winter social engagements. I expect she will be quite busy this season.”

  “Excellent,” he clapped his hands and turned to the counter. “My wife will be in presently and she will help with your measurements. Please, do walk through the merchandise and examine the fine cloth. We have just received a large order from London. Now, unless you have a particular want, the current style is an overlayer of gauze, satin or soft silk, with quite a lot of embroidery. It would be terribly theatrical if the color was not so subdued.” His voice trailed away as Allie bent down to listen to little Janey.

  “Aunt Allie,” Janey whispered, “am I going to need a ball gown, also?” Her blue eyes were wide with wonder, her features glowed with hope.

  “I don’t think you need one, dearest.” Allie hated speaking the cold truth as Janey’s smile sagged. “But you will most definitely need a party dress for Christmas.”

  The excitement was back in her eyes as Janey asked, “May I go look at the fabrics?”

  “Yes, but don’t touch. Some of these are very, very expensive.”

  Allie watched Janey walk to the ribbons, her face raised in pure delight. Her mother followed swiftly, as if worried that Janey did not know how to behave. Allie wondered why she and Jane had not visited a dress shop in San Francisco. Because I was too busy painting. It was so much easier to send someone else to buy her a dress. With a sigh, Allie turned back to Mr. Morton.

  “Excuse me,” she apologized, “we were discussing fabrics. I don’t have many particular needs, but I would like a higher neckline than the one I am wearing now.” She touched her throat, adjusting the scarf.

  “But the fashion is really much lower,” he protested.

  “I understand. For every day, I would prefer the neckline to be higher, here,” she said, motioning again.

  Mr. Morton was silent for a moment. “Well,” he said, voice pitched low, “the ball gown must have a low neck and sleeves, true. But sometimes a young woman has quite a thin neck or unfortunately bony shoulders. There is such a girl here in town and what we have done is drape a soft illusion at the top to disguise the defect.”

  Allie grinned. “That sounds wonderful, thank you.”

  “Don’t be anxious,” he said, patting her hand. “As there are quite a few young women who have found wealthy husbands despite being too thin.”

  “Yes, thank you, that’s very encouraging,” Allie murmured. A thin neck was the least of her worries, but it was good to know that Mrs. Gibson’s breakfasts would be put to good use.

  “Again, my wife will be in presently,” he said, motioning for her to begin examining the cloth.

  Allie wandered away, stopping near a display of fancy lace. So very expensive, but she marveled at their intricate designs. She yearned to spread the lace on the counter and trace the pattern. Being surrounded by color and texture and artistry was almost too much to bear. She closed her eyes to block it out, willing herself to focus on the task at hand: choosing a gown for the grueling social season ahead.

  “I heard she’s best friends with that actress, Maxine Elliott. They traveled California together.” A nasally voice interrupted Allie’s thoughts, bringing her back to the shop with a thud.

  “Armand Felix told me she was singing in a club to support herself.” Another voice chimed in, breathless with excitement.

  “I heard that she was part of the traveling circus.” The third one sounded bored.

  “All those years spent living a heathen lifestyle and we’re supposed to welcome her back into the fold as if all is forgiven. It’s too much to expect, really. And you know she will set her sights on all the best men. Like Thomas Bradford for one. She will attempt to lure him in immediately. Although, I would never ride in his motorcar. What would all that wind to do a proper girl’s hair?”

  There were murmurs of agreement.

  “I’m not very concerned with the gossip, but...” There was an expectant pause, “but I heard she had a new lover every month!”

  There were three identical gasps of surprise. Allie frowned, wishing these small town biddies would take their gossip somewhere far away. She didn’t want to hear who was after Thomas Bradford.

  “I heard it was every week, and that they lived with her in that studio she kept.” The nasal voice was back, and this time Allie felt a chill slip down her spine. They couldn’t be talking about her… could they?

  “Now, Louise Lloyd, that’s just terrible. Even if it is true, which it is not, how can you repeat such a thing?” Another girl’s voice had joined the conversation and it was clear and strong. Something in it reminded her of home, of her childhood.

  Allie lifted her head, attempting to see past the racks of lace. She sucked in a breath, surprised to see Thomas standing in the open doorway, his hand clutching the knob. His dark gray suit was replaced by a deep blue pinstripe with contrasting vest. His hat was set at the same jaunty angle, but there was no familiar, crooked grin. It was plain by his expression that he had heard the entire conversation. His face was etched with distaste, his lips a thin line.

  ****

  Thomas felt every muscle in his body freeze as the words filtered through his thoughts. Young women loved to gossip, to throw out hasty words that ruined characters and reputations. He knew it mattered very little whether a woman could defend herself.

  But this was too much. He worked to control his fury, forcing his feet to move from where they seemed nailed to the floor. His fingers gripped the door knob like it was the neck of the liar who said these cruel words so easily.

  Thomas raised his eyes, hoping his face wasn’t contorted with anger, and swept the room for the culprits. Of course. It was Louise Lloyd and her gang of empty-headed friends. They had nothing better to do than creep around, spreading lies. He regretted asking Louise to the governor’s picnic a month ago. In fact, he’d regretted it within the week. The girl’s sweet face hid a sour and vindictive personality. If there was any honorable way to break his commitment, he would. As it was, he was bound to the social engagement.

  In the next moment he caught a glint of chestnut curls against brightly flushed cheeks, eyes wide with surprise. Allie stood behind stacked fabrics, mere feet from the group of gossips, listening to her character being maligned in broad daylight. Thomas felt fury bubble up within, and he wrestled with his first instinct, which was to stride over to Louise and give her a piece of his mind.

  No. That was not what Allie needed, or wanted, surely. She shook her head a little, mouthing no. The look in her eyes begged him to be silent and to not acknowledge her presence just yet. She was proud and stubborn, but he had no memory of her arguing in public with anyone. Thomas gritted his teeth and forced his face into an impassive mask. She was a grown woman used to taking care of herself. She didn’t need him to ride in on a white charger and rescue her reputation. Perhaps this was not a battle he could win and it seemed by her expression, she didn’t want him to try.

  ****

  “Auntie Allie, why are you hiding
back there?” Janey was suddenly at her elbow, little head tilted in consternation.

  Allie tried to hush her, motioning to the back of the store, but Janey was a stubborn thing. “Auntie, Grandma Leeds asked me to bring you to the front. Mrs. Morton has arrived to take your measurements.”

  Allie raised her head very slowly and met Thomas’ gaze. His pained look was gone, replaced by a distant smile. She stepped from behind the row of lace and felt the gaze of every person in the store.

  “Miss Hathaway,” Thomas said, a bit too loudly, tipping his hat. “I was intending to call on you and your mother at Bellevue but I saw the carriage outside. I wanted to inquire after you, whether you had recovered from your fainting spell...”

  “Yes, thank you. I was just tired.” Allie could hardly meet his eyes and her face felt hot. Could he possibly believe those gossips?

  Mr. Morton hurried to greet him, his small hands rubbing nervously together. “Mr. Bradford, please come in. Your mother’s order of linen has arrived. Let me go fetch it for you,” he said, his rotund body zipping around the long counter toward the storage room.

  “Allie?” A lovely woman approached them, curious blue eyes peering out from under her hat, several elaborate feathers gracefully bobbing above it. “It’s Sarah Varness. Well, Sarah Deacon now. Do you remember me?” Her tone was hesitant, but as Allie’s face split with a wide smile, Sarah launched herself into Allie’s arms.

  “Oh, Sarah!” she cried, blinking back tears. “It’s so good to see you again.”

  Sarah leaned back and appraised Allie’s short, dark locks. “Let me look at you. What have you done to your hair?”