Lorna Seilstad

by When Love Calls

  “Look! Here they come.” Tessa clapped her hands.

  Two of the Des Moines fire department’s crack horse teams took their places on the field.

  “Which team is which?” Hannah asked.

  Lincoln pointed to the pair on the right. “That one is Jack and Jack. They won the state competition last year. The other team is Black and Tan. They’re younger but great too.” Two teams of firemen drew their hose carts onto the field and lined up at the starting line. “The first one is the hub-and-hub competition.”

  At the pop of a pistol, the two teams raced down the length of the field with two team members pulling the hose cart. Every fifty yards, they exchanged places with other members. The crowd cheered the teams as those from station number two, Jack and Jack’s station, captured top honors.

  “Next up are the bunk hitches!” the announcer decreed.

  “This one is Jack and Jack’s specialty.” Lincoln eyed the horses as they took their places. “The firemen have to hitch their team to the steam engine. Then one man will climb on the cart and race it around to the finish line.”

  Charlotte turned back toward Hannah and him. “How far do they have to run?”

  “Around the arena twice, right, Lincoln?”

  “That’s right, Tessa.”

  George shielded his eyes against the morning sun. “Looks like about six or seven hundred yards.”

  “Close. It’s eight hundred eighty,” Lincoln answered. “It’s a half mile.”

  George scowled, and Lincoln winced. He should have known better than to correct George in front of his girl.

  He jolted at the crack of the pistol. Both teams had their horses hitched and coupled to the engine cart faster than Lincoln thought possible. Neck and neck, the two teams raced like lightning. In just over a minute, the race was over. The announcer proclaimed Jack and Jack the winner at one minute, fourteen seconds.

  “Black and Tan lost by only four seconds, folks. Let’s give both teams a round of applause,” the announcer said. “Next up is the contest for hose laying and coupling.”

  By the end of the fire drills, Tessa announced she wanted to become a fireman.

  “There’s only one problem.” George looked at her and laughed. “They’re firemen, not firewomen.”

  Tessa’s eyes narrowed. “Women have been putting out all kinds of fires for centuries. I don’t see why they can’t put out real ones too. What do you think, Charlotte?”

  Charlotte looked from Tessa to George, clearly nervous about answering. She glanced at Hannah, perhaps hoping for a reprieve.

  “Yes, Charlotte, what do you think?” Hannah smiled sweetly.

  “I … uh …”

  “Go ahead and tell us what you think. You’re allowed your own opinions.” Lincoln held out his hands, hoping to encourage her. If she gave an answer contrary to George’s, his reaction would tell a lot about his character. How would George handle it?

  She swallowed. “I think it’s a very difficult job, but there’s no reason a woman couldn’t do it if she can manage the lifting and such. If a lady’s house was on fire and her children were inside, none of us would think twice about her fighting a fire to save them. Yet, when it’s someone else’s home, we wonder if she could do it.” She glanced at George. “I don’t think it’s a question of if a woman is able, but if men are willing to let her join their ranks.”

  While he wouldn’t want Hannah or her sisters ever to take up such a cause, Lincoln wanted to cheer. Apparently, Hannah wasn’t the only one who could present a decent argument. The Gregory sisters knew how to use their beautiful brains.

  George vaulted to his feet.

  “Where are you going?” Charlotte grabbed his arm.

  “For a walk.” He jerked free of her grasp and stalked out of the stands.

  Charlotte looked at her sisters, eyes filled with tears. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “Are you serious?” Lincoln laid a hand on Charlotte’s shoulder. “You made an excellent point. Give him a few minutes to cool off.”

  George didn’t return until after the fire drill competition had concluded and the bugle had sounded for the military review and dress parade to begin. He took his place beside Charlotte but didn’t say anything as the entire regiment of the second cavalry marched into the arena. It wasn’t until they began their elaborate drills that George seemed to get over his snit.

  “George.” Lincoln touched his shoulder. “Why don’t you and I go get the ladies some Coca-Colas?”

  “Sure. I guess.”

  Once they’d left the arena, Lincoln directed George toward a refreshment stand. He asked the clerk for five bottles and waited. “So, George, what does your father do for a living?”

  “Right now, he’s working at the quarry. He lost his other job in some mess.”

  “The quarry? How far is that away from your home?” He handed the clerk a quarter for the Coca-Colas and handed two to George.

  “About twenty miles out of town.”

  Lincoln tucked one bottle in the crook of his arm and grasped the other two in his hands. “That’s a long way to travel every day.”

  George shrugged. “Sometimes he stays there for a couple of days at a time. It just depends.”

  “So you’re home alone with your mother?” Lincoln motioned for them to head back.

  “My ma’s dead. Died giving birth.” He looked down at the ground as he walked. “And I don’t mind being home alone. I’m not a kid anymore.”

  “No, you aren’t.” Lincoln laughed. “What do you do with your time?”

  “I have baseball practice every day after school. Then I see Charlotte for a while if her sister lets me. Finally, I go to the Opera House Pharmacy and sweep up. It earns me a little so I can help out my dad.”

  Lincoln’s heart softened toward the young man. No mother. His father gone all the time. Working into the night to help out his dad with expenses. With Charlotte’s big heart, no wonder she was so willing to overlook some of the boy’s obvious flaws. Did Hannah know about any of this, and if so, what did she think? More so, what did he think of this young man dating Hannah’s sister—problems or not?

  35

  Lincoln and George climbed back into the stands and handed the girls their bottles of soda.

  “Thank you.” Hannah pressed the bottle to her lips and drew in a long swallow. Her eyes closed with apparent pleasure.

  “You’re certainly welcome.” Sitting down beside her, he forced his gaze away from her face and back toward the arena.

  The entire Fort Des Moines army regiment in full dress, including two all-Negro infantry companies, stood at the field entrance. To the patriotic tunes of the second cavalry’s mounted band, each infantry company took its turn marching in front of the military reviewing party made up of the regiment’s officers.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, you’re in for a treat now!” the announcer’s voice boomed. “Let’s hear it for the infantry drill team.”

  Even George seemed to sit up and take notice when the all-Negro drill team marched forward and dazzled the crowd by spinning, turning, and flipping their Smithfield rifles in synchronized movements without a single slip. Their unflinching drillmaster, a sergeant, never said a word.

  The crowd roared when the pounding of horses’ hooves announced the arrival of the cavalry. At the front of the line, the first two mounts carried both the United States flag and the flag representing the second cavalry. The crowd stood in honor of the flag as it passed their position. The horses circled the arena before coming to a stop at one end.

  Hannah leaned close to Lincoln. “What do you think of George?”

  “I’m not ready to render a verdict yet.”

  “I want to like him for Charlotte’s sake.”

  “I know, so do I.”

  “But—”

  He covered her hand. “I know. I’ll keep an eye on him.”

  The announcer explained the cavalry would now commence their daring drills, starting w
ith the Roman standing race. Two riders and four horses took to the field. Each rider then took off on one horse with an additional horse riding alongside.

  Hannah gasped and grabbed Lincoln’s arm when the two soldiers stood up in their saddles. They then placed a foot on the second horse’s saddle and drove the two mounts Roman style around the arena. They crossed the finish line almost neck and neck.

  “That was amazing.” Hannah let out a wistful sigh.

  Lincoln chuckled. “You’d love to try that, wouldn’t you?”

  “I would. It’s almost like—”

  “Flying?” Lincoln kissed her cheek, and his heart swelled. He loved this woman and he loved her sisters. He’d do anything to make them all happy. “We’ll get you in the air someday, Hannah. I don’t know how, but we will.”

  Hannah spread out the blanket they’d brought to Ingersoll Park. A picnic seemed like the perfect end to a perfect day. While George and Charlotte went for a walk and Tessa was off examining a flower garden, she and Lincoln had a few minutes alone.

  “Mind if I take my coat off? It’s getting downright balmy.”

  “Not at all.”

  After shrugging out of it, he rolled up his shirtsleeves and lay down on the blanket. “I think I’ll rest my eyes for a minute.” He covered his eyes with his straw hat, and within minutes the steady rise and fall of his chest told her sleep had claimed him.

  Poor man. He had to be even more tired than she. After all, he wouldn’t have gotten to bed until after he’d seen her home last night.

  She reached into the picnic basket and withdrew the plates with as little noise as possible. She set them on the blanket and smiled at the man who’d captured her heart. Beneath his tipped hat, his lips pursed as he dozed.

  Her gaze settled on his soft, full lips.

  Heat tinged her cheeks. What was she doing? She shouldn’t be watching him sleep, and she certainly shouldn’t be thinking about his kisses while they were sitting on the same blanket. There was something so intimate about being near him as he slept. It was almost as if it made her extra aware of him as a man. Or maybe it was because she’d begun to picture a future with Lincoln, and this scene fit right into her mental photograph.

  She reached into the basket and withdrew an apple pie. Naturally, Charlotte would make that, after George’s little fit about Charlotte not packing pie for the box social. Well, she certainly hoped he was pleased this time.

  Glancing at Lincoln again, she sighed. George was a far cry from Lincoln Cole. Maybe the boy was simply young and immature, but Hannah feared he had a lot to learn about truly loving someone. She imagined his father, like so many men, hadn’t provided the best example.

  Hannah recalled Lincoln’s promise about finding a way for her to someday fly. The idea warmed her deep in her heart. How did she get so lucky? It wasn’t that she truly expected to ride in an airplane someday or float in the clouds. It was that he cared that she wanted to. While he might be quite content to live life with his feet firmly planted on solid ground, he knew she wanted something else, and he was willing to promise her he’d find a way to make that happen.

  She removed a box of sandwiches from the basket and poured glasses of lemonade for each of them from a Mason jar.

  Lincoln pushed the hat off his eyes. “Were you going to let me sleep all day?”

  “I figured you needed it.”

  “But I’d rather spend my time with you.” He rubbed his eyes and sat up. He yawned and accepted the glass she offered. “Is that an apple pie?”

  “George’s favorite.”

  They shared a laugh.

  “Did you know his mother is dead?” Lincoln sipped from his glass. “And his dad is gone a lot. The boy has a job too. He sweeps up in the evenings at a pharmacy.”

  “You learned all that when you were getting the Cokes?”

  He nodded. “Kind of makes me want to give him the benefit of the doubt.”

  “I do too, for Charlotte’s sake and for his, but she’s simply not herself when she’s with him.” She sighed. “No, it’s more than that. She hides her true self.”

  “Well, you’re in no danger of hiding your true self from me.” Lincoln chuckled, then took her hand. “However, I do worry you’re hiding some of your true self from the world.”

  She stiffened. What was Lincoln talking about? “Pardon me?”

  “You’re not a switchboard operator. There’s nothing wrong with being one, but that’s not what you were meant to be.”

  The tender look in his eyes made her relax a bit. “And what exactly was I meant to be?”

  “What do you think?” He drew circles on the soft flesh of her palm.

  “None of us knows for certain. Just because I like to argue doesn’t mean I’d make a good attorney. In fact, maybe I’d be an awful one. Then what would you think?”

  He grinned. “You’d be outstanding. Charlotte is passionate about pies, and you’re passionate about right and wrong.”

  She pulled her hand free and grabbed the box of sandwiches. “Well, that dream has to die.”

  “For now, but not forever.”

  “Lincoln, please don’t make me want it more than I already do.”

  George and Charlotte walked up, followed by Tessa. All three sat down on the quilt, Hannah disbursed the sandwiches, and Lincoln offered a blessing.

  After one bite of the succulent roast beef in between two slices of soft bread, Hannah complimented her sister. No one else could make a sandwich turn out so delicious.

  When they’d finished their sandwiches, Charlotte cut the pie and loaded slices onto their plates. Hannah smiled as Charlotte scooped an extra-large piece onto George’s plate, and he thanked her.

  Lincoln forked a bite and moaned. “This is amazing.” He raised his glass. “A toast to Charlotte and her culinary skills. Fannie Farmer’s School will be lucky to get you.”

  Charlotte looked at George and then at Hannah.

  “Tell them.” George nudged her arm.

  Tessa dropped her sandwich to her lap. “Tell us what?”

  “I’m not going to go away to school. George says I already know everything I need to.”

  “So she’s going to stay in Des Moines with me.” George puffed out his chest. “Right where she belongs.”

  “Over my dead body!” Hannah drew back her plate, ready to hurl it in George’s face.

  “Easy, there.” Lincoln grabbed her wrist. “Son, I think you and I should go for a walk.”

  “But I’m not done with my pie.”

  Lincoln snagged it out of his hand and passed it to Charlotte. Hooking the boy’s arm, he hauled him to his feet. “I think it’s in your best interest to come with me.”

  “Why?” He struggled to get his footing.

  “Because Charlotte’s switchboard-operating sister may disconnect you for good.”

  36

  Charlotte glared at her older sister sitting across from her on the blanket. For the last five minutes, they’d sat in silence with their gazes locked. As far as she was concerned, they could sit there all day. She was not giving up George, and no one was going to convince her otherwise.

  “Okay.” Tessa stood up and looked at Hannah. “I’ll say it if you won’t.” She turned to Charlotte. “Sister, you’ve sniffed one too many sheets of burnt cookies.”

  Charlotte scowled.

  “What are you talking about?” Hannah unfolded her legs and stood.

  “I’m talking about Charlotte. Her bread isn’t baked. Her pie ain’t got all its slices.” She held out her hands, palms upward, as if she were offering Hannah the answer.

  Hannah held up her hand. “That’s enough.”

  Tessa plunged on. “I think she fell out of the stupid tree and hit every branch on the way down.”

  “I said stop.” But the corner of Hannah’s lip lifted ever so slightly.

  Charlotte’s simmering anger came to a boil. “I think you’ve made your point, little sister.” She grabbed the empty plates and
thrust them into the basket. “I don’t care what you or Hannah or Lincoln or anyone else thinks.”

  “No, you only care what George thinks.” Hannah’s words were laced with sarcasm.

  Charlotte tossed the contents of one of the glasses into the grass. “Why can’t you let me make my own decisions?”

  “Your own decisions?” Hannah picked up the other glasses and stacked them. “You haven’t thought for yourself since George walked into your life. The Charlotte I know wouldn’t jump when a fellow said boo, wouldn’t cry when he didn’t like the dessert she made, and would never sell out her dreams for some fellow.”

  “You’re willing to become a politician’s wife.” Charlotte could tell her words punched hard.

  “That’s different. Besides, we’re talking about you.” Hannah handed the stack of glasses to Charlotte. “Why are you doing this? Is this what you really want?”

  Without wrapping them, she set the glasses in the basket. They rattled against the plates, but she didn’t care. “George says—”

  “No! Not George. You. Do you know what you want anymore? Do you even know who you are?”

  Charlotte blinked. Did she?

  She stood and shook out the blanket. She folded it in half. Again. And again. Then hugged the quilt to her chest. Of course she knew who she was. She was George’s girl. He needed her. She belonged with him. Didn’t Hannah understand how much she needed George—especially now? Didn’t Hannah feel the same grief-weary emptiness that she did? Isn’t that why she’d turned to Lincoln?

  “Do you think he loves you?” Hannah eased the quilt from her arms, her voice now back to its soothing, velvet sound. “Has he kissed you? Is that why you’re willing to do whatever he wants?”

  Charlotte’s hand shot to her mouth, her stomach roiling at the memory of that awful stolen kiss. But that had been her fault. If she’d let him kiss her willingly, he wouldn’t have gone to such extremes.

  “Charlotte, honey, how do you know he cares about you?”

  Tears flooded Charlotte’s eyes. He cared. Couldn’t Hannah at least see that? Hurt and anger exploded inside her. “He’s here putting up with you, isn’t he?”