Abiding Love: Banished Saga, Book Eight

by Flightner, Ramona

  Zylphia beamed at her friend. “Oh, how wonderful! I’d always hoped you’d come to discover how well suited Morgan and you are.”

  Savannah spoke up. “As for Genevieve, she was wise to marry Lucas as he adores her as much as she adores him.” Savannah’s smile was sardonic as she looked at Rowena. “And I like to believe my brother is slightly more respectable than this opera singer in question.”

  “The fact is that Mr. Higgenbothem’s finances are in shambles, and he needs an heiress to remain part of good society,” Sophronia said with a lift of one brow. “The opera singer, I fear, would prove a fickle companion should he suddenly be beggared.”

  “Doesn’t she have a name?” Melinda asked. “It seems so odd to refer to her only as ‘the opera singer.’”

  “Quite right,” Sophie said. “But we never refer to her by name. Because then she becomes a real person. And then we’d have to acknowledge her, which is the last thing we want to do.” She raised her eyebrows as she looked at Melinda, nodding with satisfaction as Melinda appeared to understand, even if she did not agree. “As for Lucas, he’s from a respectable family, and he’s a man. Men are allowed to have their … transgressions.”

  Zylphia sighed and rolled her eyes. “It’s so unfair! It’s 1918. Women should not continue to be held to a different standard than men.”

  “Dearest, you will go to your grave fighting that battle. It would be better to find one that you can win,” Sophie said. “Now, Rowena, why are you here rather than in Washington? I thought you were impervious to your father’s mandates by now.”

  Rowena shrugged. “I was hot and tired, and I knew Alice planned another round of picketing. I didn’t have it in me to explain to her once more why I couldn’t and didn’t want to picket.” She shared a look with Zylphia and Parthena, whose gazes had clouded over at the mention of picketing. “I know those who picket will be arrested yet again.”

  “No, Ro, you shouldn’t want that,” Parthena said. She cleared her throat. “Although I suppose I should be braver and take pride in what they are willing to do.”

  Sophronia thunked her cane down with such force that all the women jumped and the china rattled on the table. “I want to hear none of that nonsense again, Parthena. You and Zylphia did more than almost anyone else last fall, and you suffered horribly for it. You should never feel guilty because you have no desire to be jailed and abused again.”

  “It’s hard not to feel guilty when I lie in my husband’s arms and give thanks that I am here rather than in a cold cell with nothing to eat,” Zylphia said.

  “You shouldn’t feel guilt. You should feel pride that you have sense,” Sophie snapped. “When Alice writes you, asking for money, do you donate? Do you write letters in support of what she is doing in Washington? Do you attempt to persuade the recalcitrant senators of their erroneous beliefs?” At their nods of agreement to all of her questions, she gave a small humph. “You are doing more than almost all the women in this country to obtain the vote. You don’t have to do more.”

  After a few moments of silence, Savannah said, “What do you think I should do?” She pointed to the busybodies on the Cliff Walk.

  Parthena looked around at the concerned faces on the veranda and let out a deep breath. “I know this won’t be the popular answer, but I would enjoy my family and friends and not bother with society. Why should you put yourself through another evening like last night just so you can give them something to talk about? You don’t owe them anything.”

  Savannah frowned and bit at her lower lip. “Won’t I be seen as a coward?”

  Melinda squirmed in her seat. “Why do you care what they think, Mother? You know you aren’t. Father knows you aren’t.” Her eyes shone with pride as she looked at her. “I wanted to dance a Mr. Pickens’s jig when I heard what you had done last night. How brave you were!”

  “I wasn’t brave, Melly. I did what I had to do to survive and to protect those I love.” Savannah swiped at her cheek. “I pray you never have to suffer the same.”

  Her daughter smiled at her. “I won’t. Because you and Father would never expect me to remain with a man who hurt me. And I’d be sure to tell him who my mother was so that he was afraid to harm me.” She smiled at her mother with pride as her mother stifled a sob.

  After a moment of silence, Zylphia spoke with a glint of mischief in her gaze. “I’d enjoy the peace while we can. Richard, Florence and their brood arrive tomorrow.”

  Melinda squealed with pleasure. “We’ll play on the lawn and have all sorts of adventures!”

  Zylphia laughed. “Yes, we will. For now, I’ll enjoy the quiet.” She shared a look with her friends and rose. They followed her move to rest and then to dress for a casual dinner.

  “Rowena, will you sit with me a moment?” Sophie asked, although it was understood as a command.

  Rowena shared a look with Parthena and Zylphia as she sat near Sophie and stared across the lawn, ignoring the chatter of the other women as they entered the house. “Mr. McLeod couldn’t have chosen a better home to rent.”

  “No, he couldn’t have, and we should remain thankful he was willing to share it with his daughter’s friends as well as his family.” She paused, waiting until Rowena looked at her. “What is it that I hear about you hiding in alcoves with a singer of questionable reputation?”

  Rowena let out a deep sigh and shook her head. “Did we not just say that men are able to weather such gossip better than women?”

  “When they are from a good family, yes. He is from the slums of Albany. It is hard to imagine he would be acceptable to your father.”

  Rowena firmed her jaw. “My father might not approve, but he is no longer in control of my inheritance.” She blushed as Sophie raised an eyebrow at that information. “I don’t want it to be common knowledge, but, when I turned thirty nearly two years ago, my mother’s money became my money.”

  “No longer under your father’s control?” At Rowena’s shake of her head, Sophie smiled. “Good. Then you can cease acting like a demure half-wit, hiding in alcoves when in society, concealing your intelligence no matter the setting, and begin dressing with more elegance.”

  “There are other reasons I have no interest in attracting a man’s attention,” Rowena murmured.

  Sophronia clasped her young friend’s hand and gripped it. “Do not be ashamed of your mother, Rowena. Many from fine families have German blood.” She waited as Rowena battled tears. “Your father knows exactly what to do to continue to manipulate you.”

  Rowena looked upward as though studying the striped pattern of the canvas awning, rather than trying to prevent tears from coursing down her cheeks. “I fear few are as liberal as you, Sophie. You’ve seen what the CPI prints. How it rouses suspicion and fear.” She sniffled as she thought about the Committee on Public Information. “Since the War started, we’ve changed the names of so many things that used to show German pride. Streets in Chicago are no longer Frankfort and Hanover Streets but Charleston and Shakespeare. Hospitals in New York City have changed their names. Germania Life Insurance Company changed theirs to Guardian Life Insurance Company of America.” She rubbed at her head. “The Red Cross won’t allow those with a German last name to enlist because they fear they will sabotage the effort.” She stopped talking and met her friend’s worried gaze.

  “The CPI is a propaganda machine like any other. It wouldn’t like to be referred to in that way, but that is what it is.” Sophronia paused. “I recall recent pictures plastered on street corners of a large hulking ape, with the words Beat Back the Hun with Liberty Bonds in bright letters emblazoned over it. The CPI is doing an effective job in shaping public sentiment.” After a moment, Sophie looked at her friend. “However, what I don’t understand is why you continue to speak with and seek out Mr. Hawke. I heard a rumor that you saw him while you were in Washington.”

  She flushed. “I did. He had a performance, and I was invited to attend by a fellow activist. I wanted to hear him sing again, and
we spoke at the party after his performance.” She shrugged. “He came by the new headquarters, too, but I did not see him.”

  Sophronia’s aquamarine eyes flashed with concern. “I’m uncertain his interest is appropriate.”

  “Do you know I’m not sure I care?” A smile flit over her lips, one that caused her older friend to frown. “He sees me, even when I do my best to blend into the wallpaper. He’s the only one who’s ever accused me of that. Besides you.”

  “And he’s not wrong,” Sophie said with a huff. “There has to be more to it than that.”

  “He reads my articles. Says I underestimate myself. That I’m a better reporter than I give myself credit for.” She shrugged. “It’s nice to have an attractive man notice me for once. I’ve lived in Zylphia’s and Parthena’s shadows long enough.”

  “You’ve pined long enough,” Sophie snapped, earning a fierce blush from her fidgety young friend. “He seems like a good man, and I appreciate that he is friends with Lucas. However, his dalliance with that singer makes me concerned that he is not as steadfast as I would want him to be for you, Rowena.”

  “I do not presume to know him well enough to confirm whether or not he is steadfast,” Rowena murmured.

  “What do you hope will come of it?”

  Rowena shrugged. “Nothing will come of it. He would hate the scandal of a half-German bride and its effect on his career, and I would hate the life he lives. I simply enjoy the few moments of subtle flirtation.”

  “There is little subtlety in a man like Mr. Hawke.”

  * * *

  The following afternoon Richard and his family had arrived and were settled in. Florence was upstairs resting; a competent nanny had been hired by Aidan to help with the baby, and the boys were outside frolicking on the wide lawn. Richard, Aidan and Jeremy had gathered in the room Aidan had taken over as his Newport study. Dark paneling on all the walls was offset by floor-to-ceiling windows that bracketed a large desk. Bright sunlight streamed in on the warm August afternoon, although the room would be dark and dreary come winter. To one side of the room, comfortable chairs formed a conversation area, and the men sat there.

  Parthena played the piano in a nearby room, and the soft sounds reverberated into the study.

  “What is she playing?” Richard asked as he tilted his head to one side and listened.

  Aidan chuckled. “‘Oui, Oui, Marie.’” He waved at a gramophone in the corner. “I have a recording of it. We should play it tonight and have Parthena accompany it. I think she would add to the song.”

  Jeremy chuckled. “I think it is interesting how they are trying to find humor in the war.”

  Richard shrugged. “Not all can be like ‘After You’ve Gone.’” He shivered. “Every time I hear that song, I want to shut it off or run away from the place playing it. Florence cries.”

  Aidan sighed. “Imagine how someone who has a loved one in the War would feel. Like Amelia.” He saw Jeremy nod. “I give thanks every day that you boys are too old to be drafted.”

  Jeremy shook his head. “I don’t need something else to worry about.”

  Richard frowned.

  “I’m trying, Rich.”

  Aidan watched the two men. “I’m glad you have time together. I wish Gabriel were here too. You three have spent little time together since Jeremy left for the Philippines twenty years ago.”

  “Only those days in Washington for the parade at Wilson’s inauguration in 1913.” Richard yawned hugely. “Sorry.” He outstretched his long legs and rested his hands on his belly. “I’d forgotten how exhausting a baby can be.”

  Jeremy watched him with envy. “Why won’t Florence accept help?”

  Richard shook his head in frustration. “She believes that, because she stays at home, she should be able to do it all.” His light-blue eyes clouded. “It’s running her ragged, and I fear she will wear herself out if she doesn’t accept some aid.”

  Aidan smiled. “It’s why I hired the nurse and nanny without speaking with you. I know Florence was annoyed, but I’m certain I saw relief in her eyes as she handed the baby over before she went to your room to collapse.”

  “And she knows that Melly and Zee will run the boys ragged today, so they’ll sleep well tonight,” Jeremy said with a chuckle. “I don’t know as I’ve ever seen Zee so excited as when the boys arrived.”

  “She adores her cousins,” Aidan said with a soft smile as he thought about his daughter. “I hope she has coaxed Teddy outside too. It would do him good to frolic in the sun.”

  Richard snorted. “I heard him muttering something to her about only liking to play cricket.”

  Aidan laughed. “If I know Zee, she’ll have him outside, playing with them, before the afternoon is over.”

  * * *

  Teddy stood on the side of the lawn, watching as Richard McLeod’s five boys raced around. At first they tagged each other, but soon their antics gave way to basic wrestling matches. He watched as eleven-year-old Thomas and ten-year-old Gideon rolled around on the grass while their eldest brother, Ian, egged them on. “Don’t you think your father would rather you prevented them from coming to harm?”

  Ian laughed and shook his head. “No, he always said a good tumble and pummeling with a brother lets off steam.” He shrugged. “As long as we have no bruises Mum can easily see.”

  Teddy chuckled. “I’m sure she’ll see them at bath time.”

  The second-eldest brother at thirteen, Victor, said, “Oh, we don’t have to worry about baths with Mum watching anymore.” He shared a relieved look with his eldest brother as Teddy chuckled again.

  “Why must you always act like savages?” Zylphia asked. She shrieked as Ian lunged for her, and Victor grabbed one of her arms. Soon they were tickling her until she squealed with laughter and tears coursed down her cheeks. When they finished tickling her, she rested on the lawn and caught her breath. “You were no help,” she said to her husband.

  “Why should I come to your rescue? You were enjoying yourself,” he sat next to her and saw the brothers running between the hedges that separated their property from the neighbors. “I can’t remember ever having as much energy as they do.”

  “Sophie always says it’s wasted on the young.” Zylphia shared a rueful smile with her husband. “I imagine you were worse with Lawrence.”

  His smile turned wistful as he thought about his twin who had died years ago. “Yes. We were true hellions.” He nodded at the McLeod brothers. “They’re novices.”

  “Well, don’t give them ideas, or Florence will never forgive you.” She nudged him and stood. “Come. Let’s play baseball.” She headed to a wicker basket full of items she had left on the edge of the lawn before joining them. “Come on, boys! You too, Calvin!” She yelled to Richard and Florence’s youngest son, who was eight.

  They ran to her and peered into the basket. “Baseball!” their young voices said in excitement.

  “Now, as I see it, we can have two teams of three with an umpire, or we can have one team with three players and another with four.” She looked at the brothers. “What do you think?”

  “No umpire. None of us will be impartial,” Ian said and sent Teddy a challenging look. “Not even you, Uncle Teddy. You’ll always side with Zee.”

  Teddy shrugged as though that were an obvious assessment. “Fine, then we need two captains.” He looked over the McLeod boys, and they stood tall. “I choose Calvin as a captain.”

  Zylphia smiled. “Fine choice. I choose Thomas.” As the two brothers moved to stand in front of them, she said. “Now, you have to decide who is on your team, and Calvin has the team with four players.”

  When they were divided up, Calvin, Ian, Zylphia and Gideon were on one side, while Thomas, Victor and Teddy were on the other. Morgan had wandered outside with the commotion, and, rather than be added to a team, he was given the role of catcher for both teams.

  They used cushions from furniture on the veranda to mark the bases. Because the teams were so small,
their basic strategy was to hit a home run, strike the opponent out or have them called out at home.

  After they had played for an hour, Zylphia stood on the pitcher’s mound. “Okay, Teddy, let’s see if you can hit this!” she taunted as she wound up to pitch. She slung her arm back and threw with all her might. Teddy swung but missed hitting the ball dead on. Instead it careened upward and backward.

  Their heads tracked the trajectory of the ball and a collective “Oh, no,” sounded as it crashed into an upstairs bedroom, shattering the glass.

  Zylphia winced as a shriek sounded from inside the house. “Whose bedroom?” she asked to no one in particular.

  Teddy shrugged and then waved as Sophronia thrust her head out.

  “If you insist on breaking my window, you could have at least insisted that I keep score!” She waved to the boys and smiled away their attempts at an apology.

  “I think that’s enough for today,” Zylphia said as the boys groaned. “Your uncle will be mad enough as it is. Be thankful Teddy has to explain what he did.” She winked at her cousins whom she considered nephews. “Do you think he’ll be sent to his room with no supper?” She ruffled Calvin’s hair as he giggled.

  Teddy rolled his eyes and walked toward her. “Only if you are confined to your room too. You did pitch that ball to me.”

  She shrugged and grinned flirtatiously at him. “But then it wouldn’t be a punishment.” She laughed as he kissed her cheek, and they helped the boys pick up the equipment and cushions. She herded them inside to drink lemonade and to rest, passing her father standing on the veranda with an inquiring expression.

  “Care to explain?”

  “You know what happens when you play baseball,” Zee said.

  He chuckled. “Next time, ask me to play. We should have a huge game, with all of us. I think the boys would like it.” He ran a hand down his daughter’s arm. “I’ll have a new window ordered tomorrow.” He shook his head as he looked at Teddy. “Although I thought a man raised playing cricket would be a better batter.”