“Lucas, I don’t care why you’re here,” Savannah said. “All I care is that you are here.” She smiled at her brother and his wife. “This will be the best Christmas since we were young and in Boston.” She shared a warm smile with her brother and pulled Melinda close as she snuggled into Jeremy’s side.
Savannah wandered the dimly lit hallways of the Finlen’s basement as she attempted to follow the front desk’s instructions. “Was it turn left or turn right?” she muttered to herself as she came to a dead end. “Darn it.” She paused when she heard the sound of piano music. It stopped and started, like her steps, and she used it as a beacon.
When she found the correct door, she slipped inside, the well-oiled hinges not making any sound as the door opened and closed. She paused in her forward momentum as Lucas hunched over piano keys, tinkering away and humming to himself. He closed his eyes as he played one key a few times, half singing as he frowned. He played a different key and shook his head, returning to the first key.
Suddenly he burst into playing, and the composition was sweet, yet mournful. He paused again when he reached a keystroke he didn’t like, tinkering with the sound. She smiled at the joy he showed as he altered the feeling of the piece with each new key he tried. She shifted her stance, and the heel of her shoe clicked. He jerked up, noticing her presence for the first time.
“Sav,” he breathed. “Forgive me. I was just tinkering.”
She laughed. “That’s more than tinkering, and you know it. It’s beautiful.”
He shook his head. “Not yet. Still a lot to be done.” He shared a smile with her. “But it will be beautiful.” He scooted over on the bench as she approached. After she’d sat next to him, he played songs from memory, many of them written with her in mind.
“Who do you think of when you write that song you were tinkering with?” she asked.
He met her worried gaze. “Myself.”
“Oh, Lucas. I hate that you’ve had such sorrow in your life.” She leaned her shoulder against his, and he wrapped an arm around her, now playing with just one hand. It was disjointed, yet somehow harmonious.
“I’ve had far less than you,” he murmured. “I’m content now.”
She tapped her fingers in time with the music but shook her head on his shoulder. “I want you to be more than content. I want you to be joyously happy.”
He laughed, although it sounded bittersweet. He continued to play while holding his sister. “Did you like Vivie?”
“I adored her until I found out she was Parthena’s sister. Then I was wary of her. I know that’s not fair, but I can’t imagine what would have induced you to marry her.” She raised her head, scooting so that she sat toward the edge of the bench and could better face him.
“She was to be married off to a vile man. A man who relished hurting her. He found tremendous joy in her pain.” The song, now played with both hands, was dark and troubled. He raised turbulent eyes to his sister. “I couldn’t leave her to such a man.”
Savannah stroked a hand down his arm, frowning at the tension she felt. “You never had any responsibility to save me. Nor did you have any for her. It was hers and her family’s duty.”
Lucas ceased playing and faced his sister. “Parthena’s husband asked this of me. Knowing what it meant, he asked me. And, when Thena understood her husband’s plans, she agreed with them.”
“Oh, Lucas.” Savannah sighed.
He shrugged. “It’s difficult to realize I was the one who loved. That she never loved me.” He looked away toward the closed door. “And I hate that it even matters. It shouldn’t. I have Vivie now, and I should focus only on her.”
“Just because you loved Parthena once doesn’t mean you can’t also love Genevieve. You can love them in different ways. For that which makes them unique.” She grasped Lucas’s hands as they tapped on his pant legs. “And I disagree with you. I think Parthena cared a great deal for you. It’s a testament that she trusted her sister to your care.”
Lucas closed his eyes for a moment. “Will you like her? For my sake?”
Savannah took a deep breath. “For now, yes. I will remain hopeful that, one day soon, I will like her, come to care for her like a sister, for her own sake.” Savannah leaned forward to embrace her brother. “I’ve missed you, Lucas.”
“And I you,” he murmured into her hair.
She remained in his embrace as she whispered, “What was it like? At the end? For Mother?”
Lucas stiffened but continued to hold her. “She was contrary and rude and spirited until the end. Ordering Father and me about. Believing she knew what was best even though she was bedbound. Determined that we follow her instructions for the funeral.”
She stroked a hand down his back as his muscles tightened. “What is it?”
“I’m ashamed that some of what she demanded wasn’t difficult. She asked that there be no tears at the gravesite.” He raised bruised, saddened eyes to his sister. “Even when I stood over her grave and threw a handful of dirt on her casket, I couldn’t cry.”
Savannah shrugged her shoulders. “She ceased to be my mother those many years ago. It was a mere formality for me.”
“That’s what I told myself. But the fact that, in many ways, it was the truth seems so cold. So harsh.”
Savannah cupped his face between her hands. “That was her doing, not yours. If she’d ever supported you or shown a moment’s worth of joy at your tremendous talent, you would have forgiven her. That’s the man you are. But that wasn’t the woman she was.”
Lucas nodded. “The grandparents were there, in all their indignant black crepe glory. I find it unfathomable that they still live while all their children are dead. How is that possible?”
Savannah shuddered a moment. “Especially when two of their daughters were such wonderful women who had faith in the younger generation. Even the women of the next generation.” They sat in companionable silence for a moment. “What else bothers you, Lucas?”
“Before she died, Mother pointed out that I wasn’t much different from her. That I had remained in Boston last spring and summer to repair my reputation, thus implying my concern for my reputation was similar to hers.”
“Lucas, you know she was simply trying to manipulate you. As she always did.” Savannah sighed as she stroked a hand down his arm. “She always knew exactly what to say to provoke pain, guilt, or rage.”
He chuckled. “Often it was a combination of all three at once.” He shared an amused, yet sad, smile with his sister. “As for Vivie, I know it wasn’t my responsibility to marry her. To attempt to protect her from a horrible man. And yet I wanted to. I wanted to help her.”
Savannah frowned as she listened to him speak. “What is it that you aren’t saying? What are you afraid of?”
He half smiled as he met his sister’s worried gaze. “I should know better than to hide something from you. You know me too well. I worry I’ll end up with a marriage like Father had with Mother. Where I care and she is disdainful.”
“Oh, Lucas.” She hugged him as she fought tears. “I want so much more for you.”
“Can you do something for me?” At her nod against his chest, he said, “I want Vivie to be a part of our family. I know I’ll travel again, and, if she doesn’t want to come with me, I’d like her to feel welcome with you.” He leaned back and shared a long look with Savannah.
“She will always be welcome. However, I’d ensure she knows she’s welcome to travel with you. That way she doesn’t believe you are foisting her off on your relations so you can continue your career unfettered by a bothersome wife.”
Lucas held his sister and thought of Genevieve, upstairs and alone in their hotel room. “I’ve begun to wonder if she wouldn’t prefer being alone, rather than with me.”
Savannah gripped him closer. “Whatever’s happened between you, I’m certain you can make it right. Don’t let your fears and your bitterness toward Mother jade you toward Genevieve, Lucas. She’s not Mother.” Savannah
pushed away and met his gaze. “And you’re not Father.”
Lucas nodded and held his sister close.
Chapter 7
The Monday after Christmas, Genevieve walked up the steep sidewalks of Butte. She glanced around her as though acknowledging the pretty holiday decorations while also ensuring she was not followed. She entered a side entrance to the Hennessy building and walked the many steps up to the sixth floor as the elevator was out of service.
She glanced at the skeleton staff in the offices of the Anaconda Company before approaching an attractive secretary. “Pardon me. I have an appointment today.”
The secretary assessed her well-worn travel clothes with a glance before motioning to wooden chairs set against the wall. Genevieve sat with her handbag on her lap, her slate-gray winter coat bunched at her waist as she did. After a moment, a door along the hallway opened. “You may go in,” the secretary said in a flat voice.
Genevieve smiled her thanks as she rose and entered the office, well-lit even on this cloudy day with the south-facing windows. The tension in her shoulders eased as she noted a framed painting of Boston behind the man’s desk. He rose as she entered the room and held out a hand to her. His coal-gray suit with ice-blue tie were perfectly starched and ironed, and enhanced his aura of power. His pale brown eyes shone with curiosity as he motioned for her to remove her coat. He hung it on a peg on the backside of his door.
“Please, it is always a pleasure to have a meeting with a cultured woman, rather than a grumpy miner,” he said in a warm voice that reminded her of the upper-class Bostonians she had known.
“Are you from Boston, sir?” she asked as she settled on the chair opposite him with the desk between them. She smoothed a hand over her cranberry wool skirt, having chosen her least-worn dress for the occasion.
“I am, although I haven’t had the pleasure of visiting that fine city in too many years,” he said with a smile that failed to light his eyes with pleasure.
She sighed with relief. “I’m thankful to meet someone in administration here from Boston. I’m certain you will be able to answer my inquiries, and I imagine you will be as concerned about any iniquity as I am.”
He raised an eyebrow at her and failed to hide the amusement in his gaze. “Yes, I am a man of some repute in this town, with a certain amount of power. You know who I am, ma’am. Who are you?”
“Oh, I beg your pardon. I am Miss Genevieve Tyler. I’m visiting for a few weeks and wanted to discuss my concerns with you.”
“Tyler?” he asked as he studied her a moment. “I knew a Tyler family in Boston. A man with four daughters. You wouldn’t be one of those daughters, would you?” At her delighted smile, he watched her appreciatively. “I find it hard to believe your father would celebrate the fact his daughter is in a town such as Butte.”
“Well, one never knows what the future holds,” Genevieve said.
He relaxed into his chair and tapped a piece of paper with the tip of a pencil. “I find it doubtful that a well-bred woman raised in the high-society world of Boston, more accustomed to ballrooms than any aspect of industry, would be desirous of a meeting with a man such as me. Why would you lose much sleep over the running of a mine in the backwater of Montana?”
Genevieve sobered, leaning toward him as she met his amused gaze. “I know it may seem incongruous, but there is more to life than idle pleasure and dancing. My concern is for the children of this fine city. I worry that they are entering the mines at too young an age, putting their lives and health at risk.”
His sardonic laugh caused her to sit upright and her mouth to form a straight line. “I should have known my week would start with a social reformer from Boston, attempting to fulfill her notions of doing good.” He rolled his eyes at her. “You are as aware as I am that Montana law strictly forbids any mine foreman from hiring a person younger than sixteen.” He raised a challenging eyebrow. “Or I assume you are, as you claim to be a reformer, and I like to believe you acquaint yourself with the facts before you arrange pointless meetings.”
“I know what the law says. My fear is that too many children lie and say they have no birth certificate, thus entering the mine earlier than is legal.” She tilted her chin up in challenge, her eyes lit with passionate idealism and righteous anger.
He laughed. The pencil forgotten, he held his hands over his stomach as he leaned back in his chair. “We at the Anaconda Company do all we can to ensure we comply with the state and federal laws. There will always be those who are desirous of circumventing such regulations.” He shrugged his shoulders.
She tapped her index finger on his desk. “I would think there would be so many grown, able-bodied men in a town such as Butte, clamoring for work, that you wouldn’t need to even consider those who would lie about a birth certificate or being small for their age.”
His friendly, charming smile faded as he beheld her. “I’d advise you to leave such concerns to those who enforce the law and to those who enact them. A woman who meddles where she shouldn’t never knows what might happen.”
She frowned. “There will come a time when the inquiries of women will be natural and won’t be seen as an intrusion into the hallowed halls of commerce run at the sole discretion of men.” She rose and nodded to him. “I thank you for your time, Mr. Sanders.” She met his irritated, intrigued gaze a moment before grabbing her coat and leaving his office.
Lucas sat at the vanity in the small hotel room the following evening and stared at the garbled, mixed-up notes he’d written. He sighed, slamming his pencil onto the table. Tapping his fingers on his legs did little to ease his tension when no coherent music sounded in his mind. As the door opened, he spun to face it. “Where have you been?” He grimaced as he growled at his wife.
Genevieve stilled, her hands raised as she unpinned her hat. “I thought you’d be out.”
Lucas rose from his chair to approach her, his brown eyes flashing with anger. “I’m sure you did. Why did you lie to me?”
Genevieve shook her head and moved into the room. She tossed her hat on the armchair and slipped from her jacket, happy to find the room warm, then hung it on a peg by the door. “I don’t demand to know where you disappear to.” She pushed past him to sit on the edge of the bed, but he stopped her with a firm grip to her arm.
“Don’t act coy, Vivie. Where the hell were you?”
She wrenched her arm free and sat on the vanity stool he’d vacated. “I was out. Exploring the city.”
He sat on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on her thighs to prevent her from rising. “I thought Patrick was confused when he told me how he’d seen you leaving the offices of the Company yesterday. And then, when Fee told me that you’d departed early, rather than remain to help with supper …” He shook his head. “It doesn’t make any sense, Vivie.”
Her fingers opened and closed with her frustration. “Perhaps I wanted some time not smothered by your family.”
He jerked back as though she’d struck him. He searched her face and saw shame at her comment rather than embarrassed truth. “I will continue to hope you didn’t mean that.” He relaxed as she mumbled an apology. “Vivie, whatever it is, tell me.”
Her rigid defiance seemed to deflate in front of him, and she curled a little into herself. “I went to university for a few years before my father began to groan about money.” She snuck a glance at him and saw a perplexed rather than disappointed look. “I loved it. I adored sharing all sorts of new ideas and dreams with other women.” She sighed. “It was intoxicating.”
After a long pause, Lucas murmured, “It must have been difficult to lose that sense of community when your father refused to allow you to continue your education.”
She snorted and then blushed at her action. “It was the worst thing he’d ever done. Until Mr. Carlisle. In an instant, I lost my dreams. I wanted to do so much.” She swiped at her cheeks. “It’s rather silly as I’ve learned that, no matter how educated we are, women’s opinions and ideas will never
be seen as valid as those of a man’s. Simply because we are women.”
He stroked a hand over her leg in quiet commiseration.
She speared him with a fierce look. “No matter how much you support me, your sister, or your cousins, you’ll never understand what that feels like.”
He rocked back a little, in shock at her words, and then nodded. “What were you doing, Vivie?”
“I wanted to ensure that the children are taken care of. I … I hate that the success of our modernization has been at the cost of so many children’s lives or the loss of their childhoods.” She rubbed a hand against her cheek. “I wanted to see what it’s like for children here in Butte.”
He gave her a perplexed expression. When she appeared lost in her own thoughts, he whispered, “And what did you find?”
She huffed out a sigh. “Even though laws supposedly prevent children from working until they are age fourteen, and there is a specific law barring them from the mines until age sixteen, many are on the streets peddling papers, sandwiches, or doing other menial jobs at much younger ages. Some looked little older than seven or eight.” She shared a frustrated glance with Lucas. “They should be in school! Learning. As for the Company, they gave me the rote response that they abide by Montana law and don’t hire children under the age of sixteen.”
Lucas’s respect for his intelligent wife grew. “You don’t believe them.”
She shook her head. “I think they like the fact that many show up reporting they are ‘small for their age’ with no birth certificate to prove that claim.”
Lucas’s appreciation of his wife heightened. “I’d talk to Pat. He works for a different mining company now. They might not be as evil as you believe. Besides, the work down below is the hardest work I’ve ever heard about. I’m not sure a child younger than sixteen could do it.”
She glanced at him from underneath her eyelashes. “You aren’t angry with me?”
Escape To Love: Banished Saga, Book 6 Page 7
