Evergreen

by Marissa Doyle

  “Oh.” Ted kept the boat far enough ahead of Kit that they couldn’t be overheard. “I thought he… Well, I thought he and Alice… And when I saw you standing there like that, I wondered if…” He subsided into an embarrassed silence.

  “If he was two-timing your sister,” Grace finished for him. “No, he’s not.” She had no idea what it was he was doing with Alice, but it wasn’t that. “It’s a relief for me to know that he won’t be horrible to me anymore.”

  “Horrible to you! How could anyone possibly be horrible to you? I mean, you’re—” His voice cracked, and he turned red and rowed so hard that Kit shouted, “Hey! Are you trying to lose me?”

  “I—I’m glad you told me,” Ted said quietly a few moments later, when he’d rowed out his discomfiture. “Though I’m kind of… Kit’s a brick, or at least I thought he was.”

  “He doesn’t have to stop being one,” she said. “The fact that he apologized to me definitely raises him in my estimation.”

  “That’s true,” he said, brightening. “I say, here’s one of the places I wanted us to try. Do you want to do a cast or two?”

  “No, but you should. Here, why don’t we switch? I can keep us in place, and you can fish.”

  Ted tried to demur, but she wouldn’t let him, so they carefully switched places and she took the oars. She was glad to be able to sit quietly as they floated—funny that being in a rowboat on a pond didn’t trouble her the way being on larger boats did—and watch the others fish while she thought her own thoughts.

  So Kit had apologized. She wasn’t sure whether to believe his statement about needing her forgiveness in order to live with himself; if that were the case, then why had he behaved so badly in the first place? At least his Puritan-maidening at her wouldn’t continue, which was a relief. As for their becoming friends…well, she’d have to wait and see; if he were civil to her, then she’d be civil to him.

  And then there was what had happened before Kit found her. Her hands tightened around the oars, remembering the feeling of her fingers seeming to take root in the ground. She had never felt anything like that before; if Kit hadn’t interrupted, what else might have happened?

  A muffled exclamation from across the water made her look up. Kit was half standing in his boat, his rod bent in a tight arc toward the water.

  “He’s got one!” Ted whispered. “Looks like a proper one too.”

  It took over a tense forty-five minutes of playing his line, but he brought it in—a lake trout that Ted estimated to be all of five and a half pounds.

  “That’s a granddaddy of a fish,” Kermit said admiringly when they were all ashore again, walking back to the club.

  “You don’t suppose he left behind a wife and children, do you?” asked Ethel, wide-eyed.

  “Mrs. Fish will find herself another husband,” Ted said. “There are lots of fish in the pond. Let’s hurry so Kit can give it to Mrs. Hunter to cook for his dinner.”

  Grace smiled, remembering the Mrs. Fish she knew who adored her husband and made sure they had dinner alone together at least once a week despite her busy socializing. She should write her a note; she would be amused to hear Kit was here but behaving himself as far as Alice was concerned… Then she remembered their final conversation in her carriage, not quite a week ago, about Kit. She drew her breath in so sharply that Ted, walking beside her, asked if something were wrong.

  “Not a bit,” she assured him. At least, she didn’t think there was…and surely Mrs. Fish had been wrong about Kit. Of course she had.

  * * *

  As soon as they were back from the lake, Kit and children went to the clubhouse with Kit’s fish. Grace slipped away from them and was met by Alice striding across the rough lawn toward her.

  “There you are! Where was everyone all day? I thought I would die of boredom.” She slipped her arm through Grace’s and steered her to the hammock behind their camp.

  “I went fishing with Ted and Kermit and Ethel and Kit.” Grace felt herself color on the last name and hoped Alice wouldn’t notice.

  “He went fishing with you children?” Alice’s voice teetered between disbelief and outrage.

  “The fact that you’re a month older than me doesn’t mean you can lump me in the child category.”

  Alice ignored her. “Why didn’t anyone invite me?”

  “Because you were still in bed?”

  “That’s hardly a reason. Kit should have…” She let her sentence trail off and flung herself into the hammock, swinging it so violently that the trees supporting the hammock groaned in protest, but her face had softened. “Oh, Grace…is he mad at me?”

  Grace stopped it and settled gingerly next to her. “Why should he be? I thought everything was moonlight and roses between you?”

  “Oh, it is,” Alice said quickly. “I…” She shrugged.

  “I didn’t get the chance to tell you, since you slept late—Mr. Rookwood told me that Mrs. Rennell’s ball would remain a closed topic as far as he and Mrs. Rookwood were concerned. Wasn’t that nice of him?” Maybe that would make her feel better.

  It did—slightly. “That’s good,” Alice said, but sighed as she spoke. “I still wish Kit had called me to go fishing with you.”

  “You didn’t do everything with him in Newport,” Grace reminded her gently.

  “I know. But things are different here.” She sighed again. “I can’t explain it right now.”

  Hmm. Grace studied her averted profile. Evidently everything wasn’t moonlight and roses between them. “Alice, are you sure about him?”

  Alice’s eyes narrowed as she turned to look at Grace. “What do you mean?”

  Oh, bother. She probably shouldn’t have said that. But Mr. Rookwood’s warning yesterday morning would not leave her alone. “I mean…what if you’ve been a—a pleasant diversion for him—you know, squiring the vice-president’s daughter around Newport—and now that you’re up here, it’s time to move on—”

  Alice jumped up, nearly dumping her out of the hammock. “You don’t know anything about it!” she snapped. “Just because you never liked Kit doesn’t mean you can say things like that!” She marched back toward their camp.

  Grace thought about following her but decided not to. Better to let her think it over alone for a while. Alice might be stubborn, but she was also fair-minded. Where Kit was concerned, though… She sighed and relaxed back into the hammock, swinging it gently…and stiffened.

  Something was watching her.

  Very casually, she sat up, glancing around her as she did. There was no one in sight, though she heard the strum of a banjo from one of the camps and a murmur of laughter from somewhere else. But whatever was watching her wasn’t laughing. It didn’t feel like the regard of the trees she’d felt earlier while walking. She rose carefully and went to one of the trees supporting the hammock, resting her hand on it as she pretended to remove a pebble from her shoe.

  “Something watches us, my friend,” she murmured. “Do you know what it is?”

  The tree’s leaves fluttered in a sudden chill breeze. She felt its surprise at her speech—and she felt fear, too, both its own and hers, as that cold wind ruffled past them, and was gone. With its passing, the feeling of being watched abruptly vanished. But she didn’t wait to see if it would return; the lengthening shadows reaching eastward suddenly made indoors seem much more inviting, even with an angry Alice there.

  She tiptoed into their room to find Alice sitting cross-legged on her bed, raptly gazing down at a bowl of water lilies.

  “Aren’t they lovely?” she said, not looking up.

  “Very. Where did they come from?”

  Alice reached out to stroke a satiny white petal. “They were on the floor in front of our door, but I’m pretty sure I know who brought them.”

  “Oh?”

  “Well, isn’t it obvious? They’re a peace offering from Kit, for not calling me to go fishing with you. I’m sure he sneaked in and left them here for me. Who else could they be for
?” She smiled dreamily. “I wonder if I could spend the winter with Auntie Bye in New York again? Kit will be there, working for his father. It would be quite perfect. You could even come visit us—me.”

  Grace ignored the change of pronoun. “I thought your aunt would be in Washington this winter?”

  Alice’s gaze never left the lilies. “Don’t ruin a good dream, please!”

  After supper that night, as they walked back to the camp, Ted fell into step beside Grace and cleared his throat. “Um…I was wondering…”

  “Yes?”

  “Did…did you like the water lilies? There were hundreds of ’em down at the other end of the lake, and they…they reminded me of you—” He swallowed.

  The water lilies Alice thought Kit had brought her. “They were lovely. Thank you.”

  “We can go get more if you like. There really were hundreds of them—no, thousands!”

  Grace smiled. “I’ll bet there are, but these will last for a few days, I’m sure.”

  “Well, tell me when they fade, and I’ll get you more.” His voice broke on the last word. He tried to turn it into a cough, then broke into a run to catch up with Kermit and Ethel. Grace watched him, still smiling, then sighed. Oh, Alice.

  Chapter Twelve

  Alice was up for breakfast at eight the next morning with everyone else, though she didn’t look happy about it.

  “I didn’t sleep at all well last night,” she complained to Grace as they walked to the clubhouse through a fine mist. “But I don’t want to miss out on any fun with Kit.”

  “I’m sure he’d take you fishing if you asked him to,” Grace said.

  “Yes, but that presupposes that I want to go fishing. I’m happy to see fish boned and cooked and reposing on my plate with some chopped parsley and a wedge of lemon, but not in any other state.” Her brows drew down. “Don’t you think it might have been nice for him to have given that fish he caught to me, by the way?”

  Grace coughed to hide the exclamation that had almost slipped out. “Ahem…I think he had Mrs. Hunter prepare it for his parents.”

  “Well, I suppose that’s all right.” But her continued frown said otherwise. It stayed on her face until they entered the dining room and she saw Kit.

  “Good morning!” she cried gaily as she hurried toward him, all signs of peevishness gone. “I thought we could take a picnic lunch and go explore the old ironworks today.”

  “That sounds interesting.” Kit smiled, but Grace saw that his eyes were on her. “What do you think, Grace? We could bring the children too.”

  “What?” Grace was taken aback. “I didn’t think—”

  “Absolutely not,” Alice said. “Er—that is, isn’t there a lot of old machinery down there? I wouldn’t want to bring them if there’s a chance someone could get hurt, and they can be awfully rambunctious.”

  “And besides,” she said to Grace an hour later, after she’d come back from fetching the lunch basket Mrs. Hunter packed for them, “the children have no sense of decorum. If Kit and I can’t go alone, at least you know enough to find something else to occupy you when we want to be private.”

  Grace bit her lip to keep from pointing out that Kit had told Alice that he didn’t want them to “be private” anymore. Instead she replied, a touch acerbically, “Thank you. I’m glad to know I’ve learned my place, ma’am.”

  Alice laughed. “Silly. You know what I mean. Let’s go!” Kit was waving to them from the bridge by the Rookwoods’ camp.

  Kit, however, didn’t seem to understand when Alice wanted to be alone with him. He resisted all of her attempts to lag behind Grace on the walk down to the abandoned ironworks and strolled between them, swinging the lunch basket and addressing his conversation impartially to both of them.

  Grace wondered afterward if it wasn’t Alice’s growing indignation that caused her to pay less attention than she should have when they were wandering about the abandoned ironworks. She’d moved away on her own to give Alice the chance to be alone with Kit that she’d hinted about and was peering up the enormous blast furnace—it looked rather like an ancient Near Eastern ruin, somehow translated to a woodland setting—when she heard a sharp cry.

  She found Alice half-sprawled on the ground next to a low mound of rusted metal. She hurried over, trying to block out visions of her best friend impaled on a jagged iron spike. “Alice! Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine… Confound it, I think I tore my blouse!” To Grace’s relief, Alice had gingerly raised herself on her forearms and turned onto her side, looking more annoyed than injured. “It’s one I bought in Newport. Where’s Kit?”

  “I don’t know, and it’s a good thing you didn’t tear anything more vital than your blouse.” Grace bent over her. “What were you doing, anyway?”

  “Trying to follow him down there.” She gestured to a ruined stone building below the blast furnace. “But I caught my foot on something. Kit!” she shouted.

  Grace winced; Alice had yelled nearly in her ear. “Here, give me your hand. Let’s get you up and make sure you’re all right.”

  Alice shook her head. “You’re not strong enough to pull me up. Call Kit again.”

  “Oh, all right. Kit!” she called, and turned back to Alice. “You didn’t hit your head, did you?”

  “No, nothing like that. It’s just my— Oh, Kit!” She collapsed back onto the ground, eyes fluttering shut, and pressed the back of her hand against her forehead, like a swooning heroine in a melodrama, as Kit came striding up the hill.

  “Are you all right?” he said to Grace. “I heard you call—”

  “I’m fine. It’s—” She gestured toward Alice.

  He frowned and crouched beside her. “What happened?”

  A slight line appeared between her eyes. “Oh, Kit, I fell and I can’t get up! Am I hurt? I feel so dizzy and strange… Is there much blood?”

  Incredulous, Grace stared down at her. What was she saying? Twenty seconds ago she’d been fretting about whether her blouse was torn. Had she hit her head after all, and was only now feeling the effects? She looked at Kit and saw that his eyes were twinkling with suppressed amusement.

  “No, not too much blood that I can see,” he said gravely. “Of course, it might already be soaking into the ground—”

  “What!” Alice sat bolt upright, feeling her side. “Where? How much?”

  “There we go!” He stood up quickly and had pulled Alice to her feet before she could say another word.

  She glowered at him as she set her hat straight on her head. “I might really have been hurt, you know.”

  “But you weren’t. You tripped over something, I expect. You should be careful—there’s a lot of old junk lying around.” He looked at Grace. “Shall we find a place to sit and have lunch? There’s a pretty creek down there. I think it’s what powered the machinery.”

  “Lunch already? I’m not very hungr— Ow!” Alice staggered and grabbed Kit’s arm.

  “What is it?” Alice had gone pale this time.

  “My ankle! It hurts like the devil.”

  Kit was no longer smiling. “Can you put any weight on it— Oh, never, mind.” He bent and scooped Alice up in his arms.

  She gave a small shriek that quickly turned to a laugh and put her arms around his neck. “Kit! What are you doing?”

  “Looking for a place to sit you down so we can look at your ankle. I expect you twisted it when you fell.” He spotted a low pile of rocks by the blast furnace and climbed toward it. He set Alice down on a large rock and knelt to examine her ankle, pressing it gently through the thin leather of her low boot.

  She winced. “Ow! I think I twisted it. What am I going to do?”

  “You’re going to sit here with Grace while I go for help. You can’t walk a half mile back up to the club on a bad ankle, even if it’s only a wrench.”

  “Why don’t you just carry me home?”

  “Because I can’t walk a half mile back to the club without dropping you.” He sp
oke pleasantly enough, but Grace could hear the impatience in his voice.

  “You disarranged my hat again.” She adjusted it and looked up him through her lashes. “Why doesn’t Grace go get someone?”

  Kit shook his head. “I can go faster.”

  “Yes, but— Oh, never mind.” Alice folded her arms on her chest and scowled at her foot.

  Kit looked at her for a second, then turned away. “I’ll be back as quickly as I can,” he said to Grace. “Will you be all right?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  He nodded and picked his way back up to the road, then broke into a run.

  “Well!” Alice said crossly. “I like that—leaving me all alone with a broken ankle.”

  “Last I checked, I’m still here,” Grace said. She knelt at Alice’s feet. “Do you want me to take your boot off? I can get some cold water from the stream to bathe—”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake! All I did was lose my footing and twist it—”

  “So not broken then.” Grace touched it gently.

  “No, not broken,” Alice snapped. She glared at Grace for a moment, then her face relaxed into unhappiness. “Grace, what am I going to do?”

  “You don’t need to do anything. Kit’ll fetch someone with a wagon, and we’ll get you home fine. I’m sure that your mother—”

  “That’s not what I meant!” Alice hung her head and stared miserably down at her lap. “It’s Kit. He hates me, doesn’t he?”

  Grace rose and sat down next to her. Overhead a large black bird circled them lazily, dark against the high, thin clouds, then landed on the blast furnace and stared down at them. “No, I don’t think he hates you. But you were acting like an idiot, you know.”

  Alice groaned. “Oh, God, I know. I couldn’t help it. I said the first things that came into my head, and they were all wrong. I could hear that they were wrong even as I said them, but I couldn’t stop them coming out of my mouth. There’s something wrong with Kit.”

  Grace frowned. “But I thought you said that you’d settled everything between you—”