“Not at all. I like a girl who thinks for herself.” He tucked Nell’s hand under his arm, and they left the gallery. Then he whispered to her, “I thought some of them were pretty awful myself.”
“Really?”
“Someday I’d like to show you what I paint.”
“I’d like that,” Nell said, then stiffened the slightest bit, wondering if James might find her too bold. Would he think she was saying she would accompany him to his hotel room to see his paintings?
If he did, James didn’t pursue the idea. Instead, he asked, “Would it be all right if I brought one or two to the café? I don’t have them displayed anywhere. In fact, I don’t sell them. I just give them to friends.” He squeezed her hand, which was still on his arm. “I’d like to think you are my friend.”
Nell nodded. “I am.”
“I’m glad you don’t hate men like Miss Betty does. You have the right to, of course, after what happened to you. It was an awful thing. I hope you don’t think about it all the time.”
“No,” Nell said. “When I do, I remember the man who saved me. It makes me know that while there are bad people in the world, there are good ones, too.”
“I’m glad,” he said, stroking her arm.
* * *
James didn’t ask Nell what she wanted but instead ordered tea and crumpets for both of them. Nell didn’t mind. She’d never been to tea in a hotel dining room and wouldn’t have known what to ask for anyway. She was awed by the Brown Palace’s eight-story rotunda with the stained-glass ceiling and the thousands of feet of onyx on the walls; she called it marble, but James corrected her. “More onyx than any other building in America,” he said.
The dining room with its starched white tablecloths and heavy silver was a far cry from Buck & Betty’s. The walls were painted with designs in gold and green, and there were heavy draperies at the windows. As James seated her, she looked around at the elegant women in their tea gowns and smart suits, their hats as big as washbasins and decorated with feathers and artificial flowers. She felt dowdy in her waitress uniform, and at first she thought she shouldn’t have come. Then she looked down at her hands, strong from carrying heavy dishes, and she smiled to herself. How many of those women could gallop a horse across the plains, survive a mountain blizzard, even fight off a masher?
James saw the smile, and he grinned at her. “Are you thinking you’re the prettiest girl in the room?” he asked.
“I’m wondering how many of these women worked all day in a restaurant.”
“Good girl. You’re a woman who doesn’t mind hard work.”
“And who doesn’t care about art?”
“Next time I’ll find a show with pictures of babies and puppy dogs. Girls like those.”
He was teasing her, and Nell didn’t like that, but she wanted to be agreeable and said only, “Maybe.”
The tea arrived, and Nell took a sip. She preferred coffee—coffee with canned milk. The tea wasn’t bad, however, and she loved the crumpets, especially since she had skipped dinner. She and Betty usually ate after the café closed, and James had arrived just at closing time.
“Do you want more crumpets?” James asked. She did, but she had gobbled them up like a ranch hand and thought she should say no.
James poured more tea, then looked at her from across the little table. “I would like to know all about you,” he said.
“There isn’t much to tell,” she replied. But there was, and she told him more than she had intended, not about Buddy and what had happened in New Mexico, but about growing up in Iowa and spending summers on her grandparents’ farm in Kansas, then moving there after her parents died. “It’s the best place I know,” she said. “Whenever I’m unhappy, I think about quilting under the trumpet vine on the porch with Grandma. That always makes me feel better.”
“Is that what you thought about when … you know?”
Nell nodded. “Yes, afterward. I still do when I can’t sleep.”
James reached across the table and took her hand, and Nell felt a thrill when his fingers wrapped around hers. “You can’t blame yourself. It wasn’t your fault, you know. It was his.” He glanced around the room. “I wonder how many of these fine ladies could have fought off that man with a coffee cup. Why, I’d say you were pretty remarkable.”
James smiled at Nell, who smiled back at him. He slowly withdrew his hand and stood up. “Shall I walk you home?” he asked.
Nell wanted him to, but she thought things were already moving fast. So she told him no.
“I hope you’ll let me take you out again,” he said.
Nell placed her napkin on the table and looked down at it for a moment so that James wouldn’t see how excited she was at his words. She had wanted to see him again outside the café. She’d hoped to find a husband in Denver, and James was the nicest man she’d met. She had already begun to care about him. “I’d like that,” she said. “I’d like that very much.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
One Sunday, James took Nell for an outing at Elitch Gardens. Located at the northwest edge of Denver, Elitch was a large park with flower beds and fountains and a zoo. Old couples sat on benches while children ran in and out of hidden places. Families brought picnics and ate at tables scattered throughout the park.
As they walked along a path, James held Nell’s hand. He often did that now, and Nell liked it. James’s hand was warm and firm. Holding hands seemed gentile, something appropriate for a gentleman like James. She’d become very fond of James in the weeks they had known each other. He was sophisticated, with lovely manners, and he was polite to everyone. In fact, despite Betty’s skepticism that something about him seemed off, Nell couldn’t find anything wrong with him. She’d asked Betty again why she didn’t like James, but Betty had chalked it up to her suspicious nature. “He just seems too good to be true,” she’d said. “There has to be something wrong.”
Nell thought there wasn’t a single thing wrong.
Now the two stopped beside a display of roses to watch a woman in an ostrich-drawn cart talk to a group of boys and girls. The children gathered around the ostrich, hands reaching out to pet the bird, all except one little boy who was squatting in the dirt, a blade of grass in his hand, teasing a grasshopper. The grasshopper jumped, and the boy, surprised, fell over, laughing.
“This is a good place for children,” James said, watching as the ostrich bit off the boy’s shoe button. “There’s fresh air and animals and places for them to run about and play. It’s so much better than the streets. I’m glad children are welcome here.”
Without thinking, Nell squeezed James’s hand. She was glad he cared about children. That was more important to her than he could know. She watched as a robin redbreast pecked at a crumb, then flew off with it in his beak. Perhaps he was taking it to a nest of babies.
James squeezed back and smiled at Nell. His face was red in the sun, and his freckles stood out. “You must like children, too. I can’t imagine a woman who doesn’t. I certainly wouldn’t care to know such a woman.” They walked on, past a pond with water lilies, the green pads as big as stepping-stones. After a time they stopped beside a plot of pansies set out in a formal display, a lovers’ knot of yellow and purple.
“My grandmother called them heart’s ease,” Nell said.
“They have faces like little old men.” He screwed up his face, and Nell laughed, feeling carefree.
“You look grand,” he said.
Nell was pleased. She had dressed with care. She wanted to show James she was stylish, because although they had gone out several times now, he generally saw her wearing a uniform. She’d chosen a black skirt that came above her ankles in the new style, with a white blouse with puffed sleeves. She had made the blouse on Mrs. Bonner’s sewing machine. There was a black tie around her neck, and her hat was a small black straw with a white egret feather. She’d slipped a smart black drawstring bag over her arm. No one would have guessed she was a waitress or had once been a hired gi
rl.
“It they had violets, I would pick a bouquet for you,” James continued. “But violets grow only in flower shops this late in the season. What other flowers do you like?”
“Daisies. They’re such happy flowers. They’re my favorite.”
“You like them more than violets?” he teased.
“They go together,” Nell said.
“Like a wedding bouquet.”
The remark flustered Nell, and she dropped James’s hand. She thought how she had changed since the first time she’d left the farm in Kansas, looking for both adventure and a husband. She was no longer headstrong or as sure of herself. She’d lost some of her confidence and become more deferential. Maybe it was because of the man who had attacked her. Or it could be that she was older now, more mature. Besides, more was at stake. She was a little more desperate for a husband. She wondered what kind of husband James would be. Kind and thoughtful, a good father. She was sure of that. But thinking of the way he handed out silver dollars, she wondered if he was a spendthrift. She wished James was more forthcoming about himself, but then, Nell hadn’t told James everything about herself either.
They arrived at a refreshment stand near where a band played in a gazebo-like shell, and James bought her a glass of lemonade—bought lemonade, too, for half a dozen urchins who were standing nearby. “Sometimes I think you can buy happiness, at least for a minute,” he said as he and Nell watched the children gulp down their drinks. He led Nell to a small iron table next to a planter of petunias, and they sat down in dainty iron chairs whose backs were a profusion of scrollwork. “If I painted portraits, I would paint you there, sitting in that white chair, your head turned to the sun, the purple flowers behind you,” he said.
“But you don’t paint people,” Nell reminded him.
“Perhaps I should start. You make an awful nice picture sitting there.”
Nell looked away, not sure how to respond. She wasn’t used to compliments, although she had to admit she liked them, especially when they came from James. “Why not just paint the flowers?” she asked.
“Without the girl, they’re only flowers.”
Had she pushed for the compliment? Flirting didn’t come naturally to Nell, although it seemed natural enough for James to flirt with her.
“You are very pretty, you know.” He grinned at her. “But maybe you don’t know. You are so modest, so lacking in artifice. I like you awfully well. Do you know that?” He picked up her hand and kissed it.
Nell blushed and looked out over the gardens, at the wild grasses and a pond, at the bright displays of blooms. She turned back to James. “What I don’t know is about you. You never tell me much. About yourself, that is.”
“That’s because there’s not so much to tell. I grew up in Idaho. My father was a businessman. I think I told you that. Mother died when I was a boy, and Father a few years back. I’m alone, an orphan, you might say. I once had two younger sisters, but they died when they were very small, both from pneumonia. They were in the same little bed.” He looked off into the distance, then ran his hand across his eyes as if he were wiping away tears.
“I was alone with them when they died. My parents were worn-out, and I said I would sit with Beatrice and Anna—those were their names—while they rested. Beatrice was seven; Anna was six. I remember watching Beatrice’s chest rise and fall as she tried so hard to breathe. Then she stopped. She just didn’t take another breath. I looked at Anna, and she wasn’t breathing either. I got up to call Mother, but I didn’t. She needed her sleep. There was nothing she could do. So I sat there for hours, holding their little hands and waiting for Mother to wake up.”
“But what if they weren’t really dead? They might have just been sleeping.”
“No, they weren’t. I can’t say why I was so sure, but I was. Beatrice’s hairbrush was on the dresser. I brushed her hair and then tied it with a ribbon. Pink. It was her favorite color.”
“And Anna’s hair? You brushed it, too?” Nell whispered.
James shook his head. “No. Beatrice’s hair was straight. Anna’s was curly. She had ringlets all over her head.” He looked down at his hands. “I miss them still.”
“I’m so sorry.” The story brought tears to Nell’s eyes. She brushed at them with her gloved hand. She smiled at James, and he reached over and held her to him.
“I suppose that’s why I care so much about children. They seem so fragile.”
“That must have been awfully hard on you. On your parents, too.” She felt very close to James at that moment. She was glad he had confided in her, and she laid her head against his chest.
“I think that’s what killed Mother. For a long time, it was just Father and me.” He was silent, remembering. “I never tell this story. I’m sorry to sadden you. But you are so easy to talk to. I guess I forgot myself.”
“I’m glad you told me.” Nell straightened up but put her hand over his. For a moment, they sat without talking.
The band had begun another tune, a waltz, and Nell hummed it, thinking she should change to a happier subject. She smiled at James and said, “Tell me something else about you. Do you go to church? Who did you vote for? Do you ever go by Jim or Jimmy? What’s your favorite color?” She wanted to ask if he had ever been married—or if he was married now—but Nell couldn’t bring herself to really quiz him, not after the story he had told her about his family.
“No. McKinley, and I’ll vote for Teddy Roosevelt next time. I don’t care for Jim, and only Mother called me Jimmy. Orange.”
“Orange?” Nell laughed. “Not violet?”
“Maybe there are orange violets.”
Nell made a face. James’s story about his sisters had drawn her to him, and she felt they were connected. She felt very close to him now. She could not remember when she had had such a wonderful time. “You could paint a picture of orange violets.”
“You wouldn’t like it because the violets would be a lie. You said you like only art that’s realistic.”
“I think I should like them if you painted them.” Nell wondered if she had been too forward.
“Then I shall indeed do it. I will bring you a painting of orange violets if you promise to hang it in your room.”
“Will you? Oh, yes, I promise I will.” She would hang the picture over her bed, where she would see it in the morning light. She liked the idea of waking up thinking of James.
They walked on and stopped at a formal garden where roses bloomed in pink and red, yellow and peach. James leaned over to smell a white rose, then glanced around, and when he saw no one was looking, he plucked it and gave it to Nell.
Nell frowned at him. “You shouldn’t have, James. Didn’t you see the sign saying not to pick the flowers? They’ll ask us to leave,” she told him, although she was pleased. She put the rose to her nose to take in its scent.
“Tuck it into your purse, and they’ll never know. It’s so pretty I thought you should have it.” He paused, then added, “As pretty as you are.” Suddenly he reached over and pulled Nell to him and kissed her.
Startled, Nell nonetheless leaned into the embrace and kissed him back.
When Nell pulled away, James apologized. “I couldn’t help myself. I hope you won’t think I’m fresh.”
“No. I … I liked it.”
“I did, too.” He took her hand, and they walked on. As they stopped to watch the animals in the zoo, Nell realized how different her life had become in just a few years. She was no longer a headstrong girl but a woman whose beau had just kissed her. She was happy now—perhaps for the first time since she’d left New Mexico. He made her happy. Nell glanced over at James, who was watching the deer, and thought how lucky she was that he had come into the café that morning. When she thought of the attack now, she remembered it had brought James into her life.
Late in the afternoon James took Nell’s arm, and they left the park for the trolley stop. They hadn’t been watching the sky, hadn’t seen the dark clouds gathering, and sudden
ly it began to rain. They had not brought an umbrella, and James hustled Nell across the street to a gloomy little café to wait out the storm. “It’s not as classy as Buck & Betty’s, but at least we’ll be dry,” he said, and Nell laughed, because Buck & Betty’s was nice enough, but it was hardly classy.
They had not missed the rain, and Nell’s neck was wet with drops of water. She brushed them away with her hand until James took out a white linen handkerchief, starched and embroidered with his initials, and gave it to her to wipe away the damp.
They sat down in a wooden booth near the window where they could watch the rain, the drops heavy now, falling onto the dark street, and they ordered coffee and doughnuts. The doughnuts were pale and hard. James tasted one and muttered, “Not as good as what I’m used to.” The coffee was fine, however, and it warmed them after the cold rain.
“I must look a mess,” Nell said, opening her purse to take out a little mirror. The rose had fallen apart in the little bag, and it fell onto the floor.
“I’ll buy you another—a whole bouquet of them,” James said.
“No, I like this one. I’ll save the petals and press them in my Bible.” Nell plucked the petals from the floor.
James gestured to the handkerchief, saying, “Keep it.”
So she wrapped the petals in the white linen. “They’ll remind me of a wonderful day.” She ran her hand over the initials.
“I’m glad you think it was wonderful, because I think you are wonderful, too,” James said.
He had been saying such things all afternoon, and Nell thought over the words. A shadow of doubt came into her mind. Was he serious, or was he after something else? Perhaps it was all a play to get her to go with him to his hotel room. She knew Betty believed that. But Nell dismissed the idea. James was a decent man. He was … well, he was wonderful, too.
“I hope you like me just a little,” he said, after Nell did not reply.
“Oh, but I do,” Nell said quickly. “I mean, I’m awfully glad I met you.”
The Patchwork Bride Page 14
