by Danni Roan
At the front door Carl lifted Melissa down from the cart. Normally he would simply offer her his hand and let her climb down on her own, but he was feeling surly and wanted to get home.
She felt light in his hands as he wrapped his fingers around her small waist, feeling the stays of her corset beneath the fabric of her dress. Somehow time seemed to slow as he lowered her gently to the ground, where she stood pinned between the buggy and his broad chest.
Mel looked up into the brilliant blue eyes of the man standing over her and a soft whimper grew in her throat. If he’d been her beau she would have expected him to steal a kiss, but for now they simply stood there looking into each other’s eyes.
“Oh Mellie, I’m so glad your home.” Melissa’s mother’s voice broke the spell and together she and Carl turned toward Mrs. Middleton.
“Mother, whatever is the matter?” Mel chided, lifting her skirts and stepping onto the curb.
“It’s your father, he insists he needs to see you and Carl at once.” Mrs. Middle paused, smiling at the young man behind Mel. “Hello Carl,” she said absently, then turned back to her daughter.
“What about Father?” Melissa asked.
“I don’t know; he’s going on about some tea transaction or other. You know how he gets. I suspect he’s just frustrated at being kept home with this cold.”
Carl turned toward the cart, preparing to drive it on down to the stable.
“No, no,” Mrs. Middleton called over her shoulder. “You come too, Carl.”
“You go on now, sir,” Michaels walked around the corner of the drive and climbed into the cart. “I’ll take ol’ Char on home.” He grinned widely. “I think I’ve got the better end of the deal,” he added dryly as he clicked to the horse and was soon out of sight.
“Melissa?” Mr. Middleton’s voice echoed down the hall from his office. “Melissa, is that you?”
“Yes, Father,” Mel chimed.
“It’s about time. Did you see this mess?” He didn’t wait for her to make her way into the office before hefting the heavy book in his hands.
“How am I supposed to know what you’re talking about it you keep flapping the thing around?” she scolded.
“Look here,” her father indicated a spot on the ledger.
Mel smiled. “Oh, that.”
“Oh that?” her father growled, “That could be a catastrophe.”
“No, Carl already fixed that this afternoon, Father,” Mel said sweetly, leaning over to kiss her father’s stubbly cheek.
“Carl, come and explain what happened and how you fixed it,” she spoke softly. Her voice was kind and sweet they way it used to be and Carl smiled as he passed her.
Moments later, he and Mr. Middleton were deep in discussion as they moved through the books, checking each item with care.
Two hours later the men emerged from the den, rolling down their sleeves and talking jovially.
“I’m starved,” Mr. Middleton said, looking around the room as if surprised that the sun had gone and lamps had been switched on.
“That’s good dear,” Mrs. Middleton came around the corner holding his coat. “We’ll go in to dinner now.”
Carl turned toward the door, ready to leave for home. It had been a long day and he was ready for his dinner.
“You stay as well, Carl,” Mrs. Middleton said. “We’ve already sent for Niamh. It will be a nice cozy dinner with all of us present.” For a moment she looked sad and Carl knew she was missing her son.
“Thank you, Mrs. Middleton. I’d be pleased to join you.”
Melissa sat next to Niahm and watched Carl and her father slip into an easy discussion of business and politics. She’d known from the beginning that Carl would be a good fit for the business and she hoped that her father would recognize the fact as well.
Despite her own problems with Carl, she only wanted what was best for him and for his little sister. She cared for both of them more than she wanted to admit.
Chapter 5
The next two weeks flew by, filled with preparations for the Harvest Dance, one of the biggest celebrations of the fall season. The Harvest Dance had become a tradition as one of Boston’s first family’s daughter had come of age. Fall was her favorite season and so each year since her debut the family had hosted a dance for their friends.
“I can’t believe I’m attending my first big party,” Niahm said as she walked briskly down the street next to Mel. “I hope I won’t do anything to embarrass you.” Her blue eyes were wide with wonder.
“I’m sure you’ll be wonderful,” Mel said with a chuckle.
“Will Carl come?” Niahm asked, turning to look at Mel as they crossed the street.
“Do you want him to?”
The sound of their heels clicking on the brick paving and the hustle of fellow shoppers filled the void as the girl thought.
“I don’t know,” she finally replied, looking pensive. “He’s been prickly lately.”
Mel smiled. She’d noticed the same thing. “Perhaps he has something on his mind.” Her comment was droll.
“I hope he figures it out soon, then. It’s like living with an old bear.”
Mel laughed, a tinkling sound in the morning air.
“Good morning, ladies.” Mr. Miller doffed his hat. “Fancy meeting you here so early this morning.” He smiled.
“We’re early risers,” Mel spoke mischievously. “Ms. McHain and I are shopping in preparation for the dance this weekend.”
Paul Miller smiled brightly, despite the dark circles that were evident beneath his eyes. “Splendid. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Ms. McHain. I’m sure we’ll all have a lovely evening at the dance.” His eyes roved over Melissa approvingly.
“I was just going to have a coffee, would you ladies care to join me? There’s a lovely little café at the end of this street.”
Niahm looked at Melissa questioningly.
“I think that would be lovely,” Melissa replied, taking Paul’s arm and starting down the street.
“I don’t believe I know your family,” Paul spoke absently to the girl across from him as he sipped his coffee.
“We’re new to the city,” Niahm deferred. She’d learned her lessons well at her new school and did her best to be polite at all times.
“How nice. And have you known the Middleton’s long?”
“Niamh’s become like a sister to me,” Melissa spoke, taking the girls hand in hers. She knew how snobbish some old Bostonians could be.
“I see.” Paul still looked tired even after his first cup of coffee.
They passed the time for an hour sitting in the sun outside the small café, nibbling pastries and drinking coffee while they exchanged pleasantries.
“I’m afraid we’d better get on our way,” Mel finally said, laying her napkin on the table. “We still have a few odds and ends to pick up for Mother before we go home.”
“Perhaps I could accompany you?” Paul’s wide, white smile was back.
“That’s very kind of you, but I’m sure you have business of your own. Our driver is waiting for us nearby.” Paul was a nice man, one who was obviously interested in her as more than an acquaintance, but the more time she spent with him the more she found him to be an utter bore.
“I’ll say good-day, then,” he offered, tipping his gray bowler. “Until the dance,” He added and strode off down the street.
“He seems a very nice man,” Niahm said brightly as they moved toward the shops. “It’s kind of him to take us to the dance.”
Melissa said nothing. She’d agreed to go to the dance with Paul to try to get a response out of Carl, but other than his more than usual taciturn attitude, there had been no change. Had she expected him to declare his undying love in a fit of jealousy? She sighed, dreading the night of endless chatter and gossip ahead.
“I think I’d like Carl to come.” Niamh’s words caught Mel by surprise. “That way we’ll both have someone to dance with who’s interesting.”
“We’ll stop by the office and ask him,” Mel said, her voice still full of mirth. “I’m not sure he’ll be pleased at the prospect but perhaps if you ask, he’ll say yes.”
***
Carl stared at the page in front of him, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. He’d studied it over and over but his mind wouldn’t focus.
Melissa was shopping with Niahm today, another source of irritation for him. On one hand he was grateful that his sister was given the opportunity to make something more of herself and he was glad that Ms. Middleton had such affection for his sister. On the other hand, he knew their place. He knew he was only a lowly Irish emigrant who had no place in the life of someone like Melissa Middleton. He was afraid Niahm would be hurt, snubbed by society.
True, the Middleton’s, even with their wealth, were good people, kind and caring. Mr. Middleton’s family had migrated to the States for a better life and had found one, building it one brick at a time in this land of opportunity.
He’d had a different experience as he and his little sister had sought a new home and a new hope. The calls of Mick and Finnegan had followed him throughout his early days in the booming city. His only work was unloading ships with the others of his kind in the rough and tumble world of the docks.
When McKenna had seen him in a brawl with two men who had set on him on his way home from work one night, things had improved marginally. Money from the fighting had helped to keep his sister from having to work as a maid, but had taken its toll in other ways.
Leaning his elbows on his desk, Carl rested his head in his hands, pushing his fingers through his hair as he studied his knees. Yes, Carl McHain knew his place and it wasn’t with the likes of Ms. Melissa Middleton.
“Carl?” Mel’s worried voice drifted into the room, accompanied by the familiar cadence of her boot heels on the hard floor.
“Are you all right?” her hand descended on his shoulder, burning through him like a brand as she tried to peer into his face.
Squeezing his eyes tight against the pain in his chest, he lifted his head and looked at her. “Me eyes are tired, is all,” he said, smiling to show he was fine.
“Carl,” Niamh’s bright voice made him turn his head. “Did Mel ask you yet?”
“Ask me what?”
“It was my idea really,” his sister said, her eyes sparkling with delight. “I’d like you to accompany me to the Harvest Dance.”
Carl’s eyes went wide as he looked to Mel for confirmation.
“Please Carl,” Niahm implored, “I want to dance one dance with my big brother, and if you don’t come who will look out for me?” She took his hand in hers, pleading with her eyes.
“I’ll have nothing to wear,” Carl barked.
“You can wear one of Reese’s suits,” Mel countered.
“I won’t know how to behave,” he tried again.
“You are exceptional company at our dinners at home,” Mel struck again.
“I can’t dance.” His lips quirked in a satisfied smile.
“I’ll teach you.” Melissa’s green eyes met his and never wavered.
“Carl, you can dance,” Niamh smacked him on the shoulder. “You used to dance back home.”
“Niamh, it’s not the same.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” Mel stepped in again. “We’ll practice tonight after dinner. I’ll tell Mother to expect you both.” Her smile was triumphant and she turned on her heel. “Come along Niamh, we’ll go home and get things ready.”
His sister’s sweet laughter escorted them out of the room, leaving Carl to groan in misery.
***
Standing in the large parlor of the Middleton home with his hand resting on Melissa’s tiny waist was sweet agony for Carl.
She’d been putting him through his paces as a scratchy sounding record played on a big square gramophone. The record had just finished playing through and Mel dropped his hand, moving back to the device to start it again.
“You seem quite able to dance,” Mel insisted, stepping back to where she’d left him moments ago. “I’m sure you’ll make Niamh very proud.” She gazed up into his blue eyes, their bright, clear color a sharp contrast to his mop of coaly hair.
“I’ll just show you a few more of the more recent steps,” she said, this time lifting his hand and placing it back on her waist. His hands were large and warm and they sent shivers through her.
Carl rested his hand on Mel’s waist and took her other one as the waltz began again. She was light on her feet and moved smoothly as he led her around the space that had been cleared for them. He had given up on resisting the urge to hold her, instead reveling in the soft sway of her body close to his.
Chapter 6
Carl straightened his tie in the foyer mirror, then tugged his jacket straight. Reese’s suit was a good fit for him, if a little snug through the shoulders.
The rattle and clop of a carriage arriving made him grind his teeth. He must have been out of his mind to agree to go to this ridiculous dance. The clatter of shoes on the stairs made him turn to see his little sister come bounding down them, and a wide smile broke out across his face.
“Now don’t you look a sight,” he said, taking her hand and twirling her around. She looked beautiful in a deep pink gown of some shiny material. Her hair had been piled on her head in thick, soft waves and small white gloves covered her hands.
“Do you like it?” she gushed. “Mel said the color suits me.”
“It does, but mind your manners and don’t let your excitement get you into trouble.”
The words had barely slipped from his tongue when Melissa descended the stairs. She was a vision in a gown of emerald green. It had a softly rounded collar that dripped with ecru lace, matching the sash that wrapped her tiny waist.
“You look lovely.” His words were a whisper drowned by the knocker on the door.
Together the trio turned as the butler opened the door, allowing Mr. Miller to enter.
“You ladies look stunning,” the lean young man said, taking off his hat and bowing at the waist. “It will be an honor to escort you both tonight.”
Niamh tittered next to Carl and he scowled at her.
“Mr. Miller,” Mel said sweetly, “Ms. McHain’s brother will be escorting her this evening. I hope you don’t mind.” Her eyes were wide and innocent as she smiled at the man.
Carl felt the rumbling growl building in his chest, but silenced it by offering his hand.
“Carl McHain,” he offered. “I believe we’ve met already.”
Paul Miller blinked at the man in the expensive suit, not quite sure where he’d met him before, but he didn’t want to be rude. “It’s a pleasure,” he said, taking Carl’s hand. “If you ladies are ready, your chariot awaits.”
***
The mansion they entered upon arrival was magnificent. A huge confection of brick and busy work, a testament to the craftsmen of the city.
Carl tugged at his collar that suddenly seemed too tight, stiffening as his sister pinched him.
“You look handsome,” she said, smiling as she looked around, bedazzled. “Can you believe we’re here? It’s like a fairy tale.”
Carl smiled at the pure excitement that hummed from his sister like the steady beat of a drum, and some of it seemed to gather around him. Perhaps tonight could be fun. He patted Niamh’s hand where it rested on his arm, only to have his scowl return at the sight of Melissa on Paul Miller’s arm.
“Do try to enjoy it,” Niamh’s voice was serious. “For me,” her sapphire eyes implored.
Carl pushed away his dark thoughts and headed for the dance floor.
The lights, the music, the decorations, were all dazzling. The weather, though crisp, was still fine and the dance floor had been set up outside on a perfectly manicured lawn. Rows of electric lights had been strun
g over and around the polished wood platform and already couples of all ages, dressed in a rainbow of colors, twirled to the music of a small orchestra.
Bowing over her hand, Carl took his sister in his arms and stepped into the lively reel. Niamh’s squeal of delight lifted his heart and he thumped his feet more enthusiastically.
It was almost like being at home, almost like the spring festival with its dancing and fast tunes in their home village so many miles away.
Carl’s smile was bright as he guided Niamh around the floor, his whole face transformed by his laughter and hers.
The music stopped and Niamh leaned into him as she tried to catch her breath, fanning herself with her hand.
A very young man, spots still evident on his chin, stepped up next to them and bowed to Niamh. She smiled as he eyed her big brother with a healthy dose of intimidation.
“May I?” his voice cracked as he offered his hand. Carl nodded, slipped her little hand into the boy’s and turned away.
The sound of music picked up again and he caught a glimmer of green as Paul led Melissa out onto the floor. Carl felt an ugly twist in his side as the man took her hand lightly in his and they began their turn with the others, already settling into the twirl and glide of a fast waltz.
He couldn’t draw his eyes away, watching the girl in green sparkle like a firefly as the lean, blonde man carefully guided her around the floor. They moved gracefully, years of practice easing them through steps that were second nature.
A hand slapped down on his shoulder and Carl jerked, muscles going tense, as his hands curled into balls.
“Quite a party isn’t it my boy?” Mr. Middleton’s voice was soft but clear. “Everyone’s having a wonderful time,” The older man, his graying temples only accentuating the deep brown of his hair, gazed across the floor.
“Yes, sir,” Carl replied carefully.
“Your sister seems to be drawing some attention, I see.”
