Circled Heart (20 page)

“Grandmother’s in good hands,” I told her, reading her concern correctly. “May was thrilled to be in charge. Ever since we got the invalid chair, Grandmother’s been hoping to get downstairs and sit at the table, and May said she and Levi would arrange that this evening. We can afford another hour.”

But we didn’t stay an hour. Once inside the clubhouse, Drew left to arrange a table, and my attention was drawn to a group of people seated casually at tables along the wall of windows that overlooked the lake. They were a well-dressed group, obviously wealthy and comfortable in the club’s exclusive environment, laughing and calling to each other table to table.

One man among them stood and raised a glass, saying in a forceful voice that held a touch of east coast accent, “To Lydia and twenty-five more years of happiness.” As glasses clinked and voices called congratulations, I heard Crea give a sudden, deep gasp, and I turned to see her reach out a hand to the wall to keep herself from falling. Every last bit of color had drained from her face, even from her lips, so that she looked bloodless. Thinking she was about to faint, I said her name and reached out to take her free hand.

“Are you ill?” I asked urgently. At her nod I put an arm around her waist and pulled her uncooperative body along to a nearby chair. She seemed so completely listless and unable to help herself that I became alarmed. “I’m calling for a doctor,” I said, rising from where I crouched next to her, but at that she clutched my hand and shook her head in disagreement.

“No, don’t. Don’t. I felt suddenly light-headed is all. Too much sun, perhaps. I’m sorry to spoil the day, Johanna, but I’d like to go home.”

“You might be light-headed from hunger, Crea. Why don’t we stay and have some supper first?” Behind us the group of celebrating people gave a collective laugh, reacting to someone’s humorous remark, and Crea’s grip tightened.

“No. Please. I’d like to go home.” I stood and looked over my shoulder at the group by the windows, suspicious now of a connection between them and Crea’s sudden collapse. It was obvious to me she’d had a shock that was somehow related to them. After a few minutes Drew found us and I pulled him aside.

“Something’s happened to Crea,” I told him tersely. “I don’t know what, but we need to go home. I’m sorry.”

“Is she ill?”

“I think it’s something else, some kind of shock, but it’s made her ill. We should go.”

Drew didn’t waste time in questions or comments, one of the things I’d grown to appreciate about him, but went to fetch the car. On the ride home I sat with Crea in the back while Drew drove.

“Are you feeling better now?” I asked in a low voice.

Her color was more normal and her voice stronger. “Yes. I’m sorry to have acted so foolishly, Johanna. I don’t know what came over me. I spoiled the whole day.”

“No, you didn’t. We had a lovely day on the water. Supper was unplanned and unnecessary, anyway. Can you tell me what happened?”

“I don’t know,” she answered, but she looked away when she spoke and didn’t meet my gaze.

“I think you do know, but if you don’t choose to tell me, I understand. You have a right to your secrets and private thoughts and I don’t have the right to pry only—you know you can trust me, don’t you, Crea?” Her answer was not entirely satisfactory, but I had to be satisfied with it.

“If I were going to trust someone, Johanna, it would be you.”

Crea, no longer wan, said a polite thank you and good-bye to Drew when we reached home, then waved me away when I attempted to take her arm and help her up the walk to the house.

“I’m much better now, Johanna, thank you. You don’t have to baby me.” Except for an unnaturally bright pink spot on each cheek, she looked herself again. I watched her climb the porch steps.

“Now what was that all about?” I asked rhetorically. “I hate it that something—or someone—has the power to shake her confidence like that. Did you know those people in the clubhouse?”

“Not personally. I’m sure I’ve seen a few of them around town, but in general we didn’t move in the same circles.”

“Didn’t?”

“Along with becoming rich, I’ve also become respectable, which means my circle of proper acquaintances has grown. People once offended by my profligate ways are now eager to be my best friends.” He sounded scornful and cynical.

“Maybe it’s not just the money. Maybe you’re a more likable man than the Drew Gallagher of a year ago. Maybe once you stepped away from Douglas’s shadow and your parents’ unfortunate legacy, people discovered you were really quite a nice person.”

“That’s the second compliment you’ve paid me this afternoon, Johanna. What exactly do you want?”

“Your unwarranted suspicions hurt my feelings.”

“Ha! I know your methods by now, Johanna, and how your mind works. I also know I haven’t the ability to hurt your feelings, even if I wanted to. Which, trust me, I don’t.” Drew paused to examine me with an objective eye, making me feel that I was a rare specimen he’d just discovered under a microscope, before paying me one of the finest compliments I’d ever received. “In fact, you are the one and only person whose feelings I consider more important than my own. I don’t know how that happened, and the fact that it did is probably something you don’t realize and can’t truly appreciate.” He put his hat on at a suitably rakish angle and added, “I hope your friend, Miss O’Rourke, is feeling better. I’m sure you’ll let me know if there’s anything I can do to be of assistance.”

I recovered from the slightly breathless feeling his casual comments caused and nodded thoughtfully. “Since you purport to know how my mind works, you know I’m not shy about asking for help, but I don’t believe Crea’s problem is physical. I think it’s something else.” I gave myself a mental shake before saying goodbye. “I loved the excursion out on the lake, Drew. Thank you. It was a perfect afternoon.”

That night, lying in bed with the windows open to cool my hot room, I recalled the lazy sway of the boat and the cooling breeze off the lake, the enticing smell of Drew Gallagher and the feel of his breath against my cheek. Perfect indeed.

Sweltering August finally passed. The Anchorage filled and emptied and filled again. The typewriting and language classes I taught began to include women from the neighborhood who were not Anchorage inhabitants but ambitious women looking to improve their skills and thus improve their futures. We bulged at the seams but didn’t turn anyone away.

At home Crea slipped back into her role of quiet companion and never mentioned the unexplained shock she had received. I speculated and worried but didn’t question her. If Crea decided to make her past my business, I would listen, but the choice was not mine.

Grandmother improved remarkably, able to speak intelligible sentences and squeeze her right hand enough to grasp a pen. She still needed help forming the letters on paper, but we were all pleased and excited at her progress. Levi would carry her downstairs to the waiting wheeled chair where she sat contentedly enjoying the view from the front porch, listening to Crea read aloud, and sipping tea with her left hand in a dignified awkwardness that caused me to feel an odd mix of admiration and tenderness whenever I saw her lift the cup with a trembling hand to her lips. If she happened to spill, we pretended it didn’t happen and continued whatever we were doing without interruption. Because she and I were not sentimental with each other before her stroke, I was not going to become so now, but I admit there were times I could easily have said something emotional to her, something to convey my pride and deep affection.

One evening, meeting my look, Grandmother gave her crooked smile and said clearly, “We are not a family that clings and cries, Johanna,” so despite my resolve, something of what I felt must have shown on my face.

Jennie visited regularly; Peter, more regularly. When I complimented his faithfulness and commented on the frequency of his attention, he muttered something about going back to school. He seemed embarrassed by my words because he looked away quickly, so I changed the subject by asking about Jennie.

“Jennie’s gone for the week with the Milford family to Lake Geneva.”

“It must be serious then if your mother allowed such an extended trip and didn’t insist on accompanying her.”

“Mother chooses to believe it’s serious, but Carl and Jennie are two of a kind in a lot of ways, both of them risk-takers and hard to read. Sometimes I get the feeling that Jennie’s indulging in a mischievous and not very kind game at Mother’s expense. I could be wrong, though. Jennie doesn’t talk to me about how she really feels.” Peter’s fair, open face looked sincerely worried. “Could you talk to her, Johanna? Jennie respects you. Maybe she’ll listen.”

“Talk to her about what?”

Peter flushed. “Her behavior when she’s with Carl, I suppose. The dangers of going too far. The realities of life. You know. Women talk.”

“I’m not her mother, Peter.”

“Mother would never believe anything about Jennie that isn’t virginal and above reproach. I don’t believe she’s physically or emotionally able to have the kind of conversation that Jennie needs, and Father would simply turn beet red, stutter something incomprehensible, and kiss her on the cheek. Jennie’s his little darling and remains perpetually five years old in his eyes. I’ve tried on more than one occasion to tell Jennie to slow down and be careful, but she doesn’t listen to me. Well, she doesn’t listen to anyone any more. There’s something wild about her I don’t understand.”

“You sound worried.”

“I am worried, Johanna, but helpless, especially now that I’ll be back in school within the month. Could you—?”

“I’ll talk to her, but I can’t make any promises, Peter. Jennie’s of age now and she’s headstrong. Some people must learn their lessons the hard way: through experience and heartache.”

“I know. That’s what I’m afraid of.” Peter’s tangible concern spilled over to me. I heard something even stronger than concern in his voice, heard fear, and determined to spend time with Jennie as soon as she was back in town.

I didn’t see Drew Gallagher for the rest of the month once we returned from the boat outing. I was busy at home and at the Anchorage and didn’t have time for a visit to Cox’s, and while I considered inventing a reason to communicate with him, I resisted the temptation. My instinct said that resisting temptation around Drew Gallagher was probably wise. He had a way of bringing out an outrageous side of me that I found fun and liberating. If I weren’t careful, Jennie would have to have a talk with me about my behavior.

Allen Goldwyn stopped by the house one week to the day after my conversation with Peter. Allen’s soberly handsome face was welcome but only as a friend. Whatever speculative attraction he once held for me had disappeared in the past few months. Looking at him standing in the doorway, I realized I liked Allen platonically and was content that it would always be so. I admitted to myself that the change of feeling was another result of spending time in Drew Gallagher’s company and had a moment of worry that I would someday regret the change. Even worse, I feared that I’d led Allen to believe something that would never be true. His calm demeanor and typical respectful greeting comforted me, however, and I hoped we could remain good friends. Taking his hand, I saw my platonic feeling reciprocated in his eyes when he greeted me and felt relieved. No passion on either side, and that was good thing.

“You look thinner,” I remarked critically. “Are you working too hard?” He sat down across from me and shook his head.

“No, that’s not possible. It’s just the heat. I came by to see how Mrs. McIntyre is doing.”

I shared Grandmother’s progress, then volunteered, “I saw the windows you designed for the Cox building, Allen. They’re ingenious.” He looked pleased with the compliment.

“Mr. Gallagher gave me free rein to experiment, so I had the opportunity to try out one of my theories about air currents. The windows turned out even better than I expected. I’ve had three other clients ask for the same design. In fact, people have begun to call them Goldwyns. I never thought my first claim to fame would be windows, but I’m not complaining.”

“Congratulations. You’ve studied hard and worked even harder and you deserve the accolades.” He looked pleased, but tired, too, or perhaps troubled about something. I reached across to him and placed my hand over his. “Is everything all right, Allen? You seem bothered by something.” Allen gave my hand a squeeze and stood.

“You’re a good friend to care, Johanna, but I’m fine.” We walked into the hallway and just as I reached for the front door handle, someone lifted the knocker on the other side. Jennie greeted me when I opened the door, her face flushed and pretty, her hair sun-lightened to gold. If appearance was any measure, the week at Lake Geneva must have agreed with her. She bloomed with color and her eyes sparkled.

Jennie stepped inside, saying, “Hello, Johanna. Is this an inconvenient time? I just got back in town, dropped off my bags at home, and told Papa I was borrowing Donaldson to come and see Grandmother.” She greeted Allen. “Hello, Mr. Goldwyn. I haven’t seen you in a while. I hope you’re well.”

Allen, seemingly unappreciative of the energy and attraction that radiated from Jennie the same way heat streamed from the sun, answered in his usual serious manner. “Hello, Miss McIntyre. I’m very well, thank you. Did you say you’ve been out of town?”

“I spent last week on the shores of Lake Geneva being waited on hand and foot in the largest house I’ve ever seen. I could grow quite accustomed to the trappings of wealth in no time. And it’s no use frowning at me in disapproval, Johanna. I don’t have your hair-shirt inclinations. I like luxury.” She came in farther. “Is Grandmother resting or may I say hello?”

“She’s upstairs doing her exercises with Crea and will probably welcome the interruption.”

Jennie, one foot on the bottom step, turned to say, “Good-by, Mr. Goldwyn. If I interrupted your visit with Johanna, please forgive me. I could have waited and made the visit later, but I’m afraid I’m not very patient or circumspect when it comes to seeing the people I care about.” She flashed a brilliant smile and hurried up the steps.