Bicycle Built for Two (36 page)

She expelled a gust of air and gave up
completely. “Thank you, Alex,” she said meekly.

He eyed her skeptically. “That’s all?”

She blinked at him. “That’s all of
what?”

“That’s all you’re going to say to me?”

She thought about it. “Um . . . Yes.”

“Good Gad.” He gaped at her.

Kate felt her temper beginning to spark,
sort of like when she touched something and got an electrical
shock. It took all of her will power to hold a sarcastic retort
inside and not blurt it out in Alex’s face. This was the man she
loved, she told herself. This was the man who was being kinder to
her and her family than anyone had ever been.

As if he understood, Alex squeezed her hand.
“I’m sorry, Kate. I oughtn’t tease you. I know you’re facing some
difficult times.”

She stared at him. Never, in all of her
twenty-two years, had anyone been so nice to her. Turning her hand
over in his, she returned his pressure. “Thanks,” she said simply,
loving him and wanting him, and wishing she were someone else and
could marry him with an easy conscience.

They reached her flat a few minutes later.
To Kate, the ride from the Congress to her street was like a
descent into hell. From the bright, clean streets surrounding the
luxurious hotel, the neighborhoods got dirtier and less sanitary
and shabbier and uglier, until the carriage took the familiar turn
around the corner, and the smell of the slaughterhouses and the
butcher shops smote their noses. The odor was so foul, it made
Kate’s eyes water. She couldn’t fathom why she’d never noticed it
before.

Silly Kate. She’d never noticed it before
because she’d had nothing with which to compare it. Not for more
than a few hours at a time, anyway. After three days in the
country, her senses had been clarified. Now she could completely
understand the horror of where she lived. With all her heart, she
wished Alex didn’t know of her ignominy.

Too late. With a sigh, Kate decided it was
past time she resumed the cocky, don’t-tread-on-me demeanor she’d
perfected in her several years in the slums. “Aha. The sweet smell
of home.”

Alex squeezed her hand again. “Not for long,
darling. Not for long.”

She gave him a long, steady look and almost
broke her vow not to burden him this evening. But she couldn’t
spoil his first evening in the city with Mary Jo. That would be too
unkind, even if Kate knew it would ultimately prove to be the best
course of action. She wouldn’t allow herself to ruin the life of
the only man who’d ever shown any kindness to her and her family.
Rather, she smiled sweetly after only a very few moments of
hesitation—nowhere near long enough to make him suspicious. “I’m
looking forward to it.”

“Good.” Although Frank the coachman knew by
this time where Kate lived, Alex thumped on the carriage ceiling as
they approached the Schneiders’ shop. When he turned back to Kate,
he wore a frown. Kate braced herself.

“We’ve got to get you out of this place
before your father gets out of jail.”

Kate shrugged, feeling a wash of defeat.
“He’s probably already out.”

“We’ll see about that.”

His face was grim. Kate recognized that look
and was surprised it still had the ability to shock her. She should
have learned by this time that his elegant demeanor hid a will of
iron and a heart of gold. Not to mention fists of steel, God bless
him. If there were any justice in the universe, her father would
have landed on his useless head and killed himself when Alex
punched him. She patted his knee. “Don’t worry about me, Alex. I
know you don’t like to hear it, but I’ve learned to take care of
myself, you know.”

“I know.” His scowl didn’t abate
appreciably. “And I think it’s a dashed awful world that demands
such sacrifices from young girls who ought to be loved and
protected.”

Until Kate met Alex, she’d have considered
such a sentiment not merely maudlin and silly but absolutely
unheard of. Nobody in her whole life had expected to have to
protect Kate Finney. Not even her brothers, mainly because they
were all born within a four-year span, and had grown up protecting
each other. Kate could recall helping Billy drag Walter out of
their father’s reach during drunken rages. And they’d all tried to
protect their mother. “Yeah,” she said. “That would have been
nice.”

“We’ll take care of it,” he promised her.

Kate believed him. That is, she believed he
meant it. Again she smiled.

Alex hefted her carpet bag as if it weighed
nothing and toted it up the stairs to her flat. When she pushed the
door open, the shabbiness of her living quarters smote her full in
the face. Astonishing how one could get accustomed to the least
felicitous surroundings, especially if one didn’t know any better.
Although Kate had never thought twice about her apartment except to
be grateful she had it, this time the thought of moving back into
it after a weekend in the country made her stomach roll.

She stood beside the bag Alex had set down.
“Thanks, Alex. You’ve been so good to us.”

“Nonsense. I don’t think my mother has had a
better time since my father died. You and your family are a
blessing to us, Kate.”

Right. And pigs could fly. Rather than say
so, Kate smiled again. “Thanks. Talk about blessings, you’re the
tops when it comes to blessings, Alex. As well you know.”

“Aw, Kate.”

He had a silly grin on his
face when he closed the distance between them and took her in his
arms. Kate and her unruly body responded to his embrace instantly.
She’d have given her eyeteeth, had anyone offered for them, to be
able to consummate another act of love before Alex left her
life.
Maybe tonight
, she thought, even though she knew another intimate joining
would only be taunting fate. She wasn’t going to marry Alex; she’d
be a benighted fool to go to bed with him again anyway.

He deepened the kiss. She pressed against
him shamelessly, wanting to feel his warmth for however much longer
she had.

“Gad, Kate, I want you so badly.”

She already knew it, because she could feel
his arousal pressing against her stomach. “I want you, too, Alex.
But you need to get back to your sister.” It almost killed her to
add that.

Alex groaned as he pulled away from her.
“Soon,” he promised her. “Soon we’ll be able to love each other any
time we want to.”

She stared at him, the word “love” having
caught her by surprise. But no. She told herself not to be
frivolous. He didn’t mean he loved her. Not the way she loved him.
Rather, he was using the word as a—what was that word? Euphemism?
Kate wasn’t sure, but she thought that was the one—for desire.
“Yes,” she said at last, figuring she was probably damned anyhow,
so what did one more lie matter at this point?

He hugged her hard once more. “I don’t want
to leave you here, Kate.”

“I know you don’t.” She didn’t add that she
didn’t want to stay, because she didn’t want to sound like a
whiner. Besides, she had to get in touch with her brothers as soon
as possible.

“I’m going to the Exposition before I go
back to Mary Jo. I’ll talk to Madame Esmeralda and the
Egyptians.”

“Tell them I’ll be back to work
tomorrow.”

He didn’t like it. Kate could see it clearly
as his expression turned mulish. She said sternly, “Alex.”

Throwing his hands in the air, he cried,
“All right! I’ll tell them you’ll be back to work tomorrow—or maybe
the day after. But you aren’t going to be working any longer than I
can help, Kate.”

“Don’t tell them that, please. If you
dare—”

“I won’t.” He rolled his eyes. “For the love
of heaven, Kate, I’ve learned not to usurp what you consider your
privileges by this time.”

“Privileges?
Privileges
?” She
embraced her rage as a fortunate alternate to grief. “Nuts to
privileges! I have the right to live my own life without your
interference, darn it!”

“Oh, Lord, not again.”

She could tell his temper was tattered, too,
and was contrite, although not enough so to moderate her tone when
she spoke again. “Yes, darn it. Again. I’m not a compliant little
rich girl, Alex. I’m Kate Finney, and I’m used to taking care of
myself.”

His expression softened, and Kate’s heart
lurched painfully. “I’m sorry, Kate. I know you’re an independent
female. I guess we’ll have to work on getting used to each other’s
. . . Ah . . . quirks.”

In spite of herself, Kate grinned. “That’s a
good word for it. Diplomatic. You’re good at that, Alex.”

“You bet. I’m good at lots of things.”

He bent down and kissed her again, although
she didn’t allow the kiss to linger. She wanted to. But she knew
better. Life had taught Kate Finney that if a girl in her situation
once allowed herself to fall victim to a man’s blandishments or her
own heart’s longings, she was done for.

“I’ll pick you up in three hours, Kate. Be
ready!”

“I will.”

He kissed her one last time before he
departed. Kate flopped down on her the bed that served as a sofa
during the day and wished she could just die now and get it over
with. If God could only take her instead of Ma . . .

But no. Kate knew that her own passing would
wound her mother. She guessed she was the stronger of the two of
them. Therefore, it ought to be Kate who endured the pain of
living. Her mother had taken enough abuse in her life. She’d
probably be better off dead.

And, on that dismal thought, Kate removed her
clothes and began washing herself, using cold water left over from
before she left for the country, and wishing she were somebody
else.

Chapter Seventeen

Alex felt as if he were walking on air as he
strolled through the Columbian Exposition, his feet fairly bouncing
with the weightlessness of his soaring heart, heading for Madame
Esmeralda’s booth. He flung the door wide and marched right in,
heedless of any possible future seekers who might be concentrating
within.

The booth was empty. Alex looked around,
peeved. Experimentally, he said, “Madame Esmeralda?”

The beaded curtain at the back of the booth
rattled, and Madame appeared, stuffing what looked like bread and
cheese into her mouth. Although he didn’t know the woman well, he
beamed at her. She looked as though she might have beamed back, had
she not been chewing.

“I’m sorry for detaining Miss Finney from
her work yesterday, Madame.” He felt a little silly calling her
that, but he had no other name with which to work. “We both felt it
would be better for her mother to remain at the farm for a
while.”

The medium swallowed audibly and brushed her
fingers against her striped skirt, as if to rid them of crumbs.
“Aha. Is Mrs. Finney still in this world?”

What an odd way to ask the question.
Nevertheless, having become remarkably tolerant in the short time
he’d known Kate, Alex offered another smile to Madame. “Indeed, she
is. Not stout of health, of course, but still on the earth.”

“Ah.” Madame walked over to the table
holding her crystal ball and her deck of fortune-telling cards.
Kate had told them they were called Tarot cards, but he didn’t know
that of his own accord. “She won’t be here for long, though. You
going to take care of Kate?”

The question took him aback. “Take care of
her? Why . . . Well, yes. As a matter of fact, I’ve asked Kate to
marry me, and she’s accepted.” As soon as the statement left his
lips, he furrowed his brow, trying to recall exactly when Kate had
accepted his proposal.

Oh, it didn’t matter. She had to marry him
now. Not that she wouldn’t have done so even if they hadn’t jumped
the gun and lain together before they officially became man and
wife. But Alex decided he’d best not think about them having lain
together, because the memories sparked too many desires that,
having once been fulfilled, now clamored to be fulfilled again. And
again and again.

Madame looked at him hard for a few seconds,
then made a small gesture with her head that came across to Alex as
a shrug might have done. “Ah,” she said again.

A woman of few words, evidently. Alex,
uncertain what to do now, recalled that he hadn’t conveyed Kate’s
message, so he leapt to do so. “Kate will be back to work tomorrow,
Madame. She wanted to come back today, but, as I said, we remained
in the country for another day.”

“Ah.”

The woman seemed completely untroubled by
silences in conversations. At least she appeared less nervous about
the silences in this particular conversation than Alex was. She
just sat there looking at him. He shuffled his feet, wondering how
a foreign woman in so dubious a profession as fortune telling could
have the capacity to make him, a well-to-do young man of the world
and a sterling citizen, nervous.

Fiddlesticks. Alex had removed his hat when
he entered the booth. Now he plopped it on again with a dashing
flair and grinned at Madame. “Well, now that I’ve delivered a
message to you, I need to tell the Egyptians that Kate won’t be
dancing tonight. My sister has come to Chicago to see the fair, and
Kate and I plan to show her around this evening.”

Madame nodded. “Ah.” Her eyes narrowed. She
pointed at Alex. He suppressed an itch to press a palm over the
area of his chest at which her fingernail pointed. “You bring your
sister here. I tell her what’s what.”

Alex felt his eyebrows lift. “You will?”

Another nod. “Yes.”

“Ah . . . Why, certainly. I’m sure Mary Jo
would think that was fun.”

One of Madame’s black eyebrows rose above
one of her black eyes. It looked to Alex as if she considered his
choice of words inapt.

But that was nonsensical. She was only a
fake Gypsy fortune-teller. What did he care what she thought? With
that happy notion, Alex touched his hand to his hat in a gesture of
farewell, bowed slightly, grinned, and said, “I’ll see you
tomorrow, Madame, when I escort Kate back to work.”