Circled Heart (30 page)

Without blinking, Grandmother responded, “Why?” and waited attentively for my answer.

“Well, because he’s my friend.” A lame answer that Grandmother did not leave unchallenged.

“I had no idea he was permitted only one friend in the family.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Johanna, contrary to your youthful opinions, the planet does not revolve around you. The fact is that I found Mr. Gallagher to be amusing, attentive, courteous, and intelligent, and enjoyed his company. I didn’t realize I had to ask your permission to invite people into my own home.”

Grandmother’s pretense at rational thought did not fool me. I knew her too well. For some reason she wanted Drew Gallagher in closer proximity, and if I wasn’t sure I had kept my emotions to myself, I might have suspected her of matchmaking. That motivation didn’t make sense, though. She didn’t take the same interest or practice a similar subterfuge with Allen Goldwyn even though she could have reasonably suspected I had an amorous interest in him. Perhaps she really did like Drew for his own sake. Why that didn’t ring true I couldn’t explain. She seemed to find his presence stimulating and as Drew had remarked the afternoon of her birthday party, there was no reason that advancing years should keep a person from enjoying the company of the opposite sex. Still, the fact that I was certain Grandmother had purposefully invited Drew to draw out a reaction from me annoyed me as did the quickly suppressed grin on Crea’s face during the conversation. It seemed I now shared a house with the entire Machiavelli family.

The holidays brought the Anchorage an influx of donations from generous patrons, and combined with my own contributions, we were able to decorate, provide gifts, and plan for a large holiday dinner. I sent special presents to Henrietta and Betsy and their children, to Mrs. McElhanie and all the alumnae of the Anchorage who worked at Cox’s. It only took me one Saturday to complete all my Christmas shopping, starting out early and plundering my way through the stores along Michigan Avenue. One of the few, true, and uncomplicated benefits of having comfortable wealth is the ability to buy presents for the people one cares about. My purchases were delivered to the front door over the next few days and I hurried them all off to my room where I spent several evenings unsuccessfully trying to wrap each item in a way to do it justice.

For all the emotions swirling around the family that year, I remember those early weeks of December 1912 as a time of innocence and personal happiness. I thought that Jennie would either come to her senses and cancel the wedding or marry and discover that she enjoyed being Mrs. Carl Milford. I believed that with patience and love, Peter could convince his mother to dance at his wedding because eventually Aunt Kitty would recognize Crea’s true worth in my friend’s kindness, industry, intelligence, and beauty. And I suppose—though it’s hard to remember exactly what was going through my mind at any given moment—I believed that something would happen that would assure me of Drew Gallagher’s undying and reciprocal affection for me and we would live together happily ever after. A time of innocence indeed.

Snow refused to cooperate with Christmas. No picturesque snowfall softened Chicago’s dark streets and dirty smoke stacks. No flakes floated out of a midnight blue sky to frost the rooftops. Besides the aesthetic, snow would also have been welcome because its insulating presence would offer relief from subfreezing temperatures, but no such relief came that December. Frigid air and wind so sharp with cold that it cut deeply into the bone arrived early in the month and continued daily through the holiday. Coal became a black-market commodity among the poor, and newspapers reported people freezing to death in alleys and unheated apartments. Christmas Eve morning dawned as the coldest day of the month.

Despite May’s protests, by mid-afternoon I insisted that she and Levi spend the evening with their sons’ families.

“You’ve done all the work,” I told May, taking in the sights and smells of the warm kitchen. “Crea and I are quite capable of transferring dishes to the buffet table and putting out the silverware. Don’t argue with me, Mayville; I haven’t the time. I promise we’ll leave every dirty dish for you to wash if you’re so set on being helpful. Now, go wish Grandmother a merry Christmas before you leave. She has something for you.” Grandmother had something for May and Levi every Christmas: a generous gift of cash and a sincere thank you. Truly, I don’t know which of those two offerings May most treasured.

“Will you come with us to midnight service, Crea?” I asked as we put the finishing decorative touches on the table.

“No, but thank you for the invitation, Johanna. I’m going to early Mass so I’m not out late in this weather. I’ll be home early enough to help you in the kitchen, though, if you need me.” Her inadvertent use of the word home warmed me. I had grown very fond of Crea over the past weeks and enjoyed her conversation and company. To me she was already a member of the family. She might hesitate to admit it, but I believed she felt the same about Grandmother, May, and me.

“You don’t plan to go out by yourself in this weather, do you?”

“St. Mary’s is a straight line on the trolley, and I’ll be back before it’s completely dark.”

“But—”

“Johanna, why is it acceptable for you to gallivant all over the city and take the train by yourself at odd hours of the day and night but not acceptable for me to do the same?”

“Because—” I stopped, meeting her laughing glance, and instantly capitulated. “You’re right, of course. You’re a grown woman with a mind of her own and if you want to walk to Milwaukee this evening, by all means go ahead. I worry because I care about you, but that’s no excuse for me telling you what to do. I’m sorry.” She patted my arm on her way out of the room.

“You’re forgiven. I know that despite the appearance you try so hard to present, your heart rules over your head every time.”

As I dressed, I considered Crea’s observation and supposed she was right. Drew wasn’t the only one who cultivated a façade. Apparently I did, too. Did we do it to protect ourselves and if so, from whom or what? Was everyone guilty of a similar deception, I wondered, and is that why manners and pretense were so important in social interactions? All of us needed a special, inviolate place where we could feel secure and safe, where only the most trusted person was offered admittance. I might love Drew Gallagher but to trust him with my personal vulnerabilities was another thing altogether.

After we dressed for the evening, I helped Grandmother slowly down the stairs, she resting one hand lightly on the banister and the other more heavily on my arm.

“You’re looking very festive this evening, Grandmother.”

She wore Drew’s birthday gift in its colorful McIntyre plaid of red, green, and black over a black dress with a high lace collar. Her silver white hair was wrapped at the back of her neck and fastened with hairpins tipped in red jewels that glittered in the light. The two spots of color on her cheeks were caused by excitement and took ten years from her face.

“I’m feeling festive, Johanna. We haven’t had all the family here for Christmas Eve in several years. When Jennie and Peter were little, it seemed more practical for Harry and Kitty to host the evening, rather than dragging their children out into the cold.”

“You didn’t have a problem dragging me out into the cold,” I pointed out.

“You were never as delicate as Jennie and Peter.” She looked over at me with a twinkle in her eyes. “Just ask Kitty.” Her offhand remark made me giggle and I gave her arm a squeeze. The thought that I had almost lost this woman, lost her humor and caustic, good sense, her quiet affection and understanding, constricted my throat and for a moment made me too emotional to speak. The doorknocker sounded as we reached the bottom of the stairs and the brief heart pang I felt disappeared, replaced by a flutter of excitement. Drew perhaps, I thought, but it was Peter arriving early to see whether he could offer some help.

“Johanna,” Peter said, turning from hanging up his coat to examine me. “You look wonderful. You should wear that shade of sapphire blue more often. It becomes you.”

“Thank you for the compliment, Peter.” I saw him take a surreptitious look around and went closer to whisper. “She’s at church, but I’ve taken her up on her offer to help in the kitchen later just to give the two of you a chance for some time together. Take advantage of the opportunity.” His face brightened.

“Thanks, Cousin. If I can ever return the favor, don’t hesitate to ask.” The grin on his face made it clear that he had heard something about my love life and assumed the account was true. Jennie, I supposed and wondered exactly what she’d told Peter. When she was in the right mood, she could make gossip outrageously entertaining and Peter had always been an appreciative audience.

My aunt, uncle, and Jennie arrived not long after Peter, and Drew shortly after them. He hung his coat and hat on the hallway coat tree and turned to follow me into the front parlor.

“A small group,” he said and catching something hesitant in his tone, I turned to look at him. A rare circumstance indeed, but I thought he looked uncomfortable.

“Just family.”

“And me.”

“We’re very selective about how we supplement our small family,” I answered with a smile, “so consider yourself fortunate that Grandmother believes you worthy of the honor.” When he didn’t smile in return, I added, “Did you feel obligated to come? It was kind of you to accept Grandmother’s invitation and you don’t have to stay very long, if that’s the case. I can understand that the idea of spending Christmas Eve with this little group is less than a scintillating prospect. Or did you replace other, more enjoyable plans for the evening with this visit?” Drew gave a brief, humorless laugh.

“No matter who’s here or what happens, the evening will certainly be an improvement on any memories I have of Christmases past. My father went to work at his bank on Christmas Day, and my abandoned mother would set Douglas and me so far apart at our imported dining table that we’d have to shout to be heard. Recent Christmases are just as blurry. Too many Christmas mornings spent nursing a splitting headache and hazy recollections of bad company from the night before.”

Acknowledging his uncharacteristically bitter words, I said, “Before you expect an improvement over those unfortunate memories, let me share with you that a hangover might be preferable to an evening with the McIntyres. I’ve always tolerated the togetherness for Grandmother’s sake, but having been away last Christmas and nearly not making it home this year makes me more appreciative. There is something about being alive that puts one in a more charitable frame of mind.” I added, feeling awkward, “But I’m sorry you missed out on Christmas when you were a child. It’s one of my favorite family memories from when I was a little girl. In fact, now, so many years later, the memories seem almost too good to be true. I suppose my recollections could be as hazy as yours even if it’s for different reasons.”

The serious expression disappeared from Drew’s face. “When you’re kind to me, Johanna, I get nervous.”

“It’s Christmas,” I retorted, “so don’t worry that I have an ulterior motive. It’s a time of good will to our fellow men, after all.”

“And you aren’t angling for something?” he asked in a low voice, following me into the parlor. “Then it really is the season of miracles.” His comment made me laugh out loud, which Jennie caught as we entered. She gave us both a speculative look before coming over to our side.

“Mr. Gallagher, I believe you are becoming a family fixture.” Jennie wore a white wool dress, plain except for a touch of lace at neck and cuff, and tailored to display her perfect, hourglass figure. The only place she showed a spot of color was in her hair, where a sprig of red holly berries curved down to one cheek.

“You look lovely, Miss McIntyre, as I imagine the Snow Queen would look,” Drew remarked.

“Looks can be deceiving,” Jennie replied lightly. “I’m not nearly as pure of heart as Johanna, for all her gypsy looks.”

I shook my head at her but hadn’t the heart to scold. It may have been the white of her dress, but she looked pale and drawn to me. Still unwell? I wondered with a niggling worry and requested, “Jennie, steer Drew over to Grandmother, will you, while I check out the kitchen? I sent May away to her family tonight and put myself in charge of the dinner, which is, as you know, a frightening prospect.”

Crea was in the kitchen ahead of me, her pink cheeks a sign that she had recently come in from the cold. We worked companionably a while before I casually mentioned, “Peter arrived early tonight to see if I had anything for him to do. We might need him to slice the roast.”

“Johanna, don’t you dare match make. This is a special night, and I don’t want any scenes.”

“All I said was—”

“I know exactly what you said and I know exactly what you meant. Don’t act all innocent with me. I know you too well.”

“All right, all right. I promise not to practice any subterfuge, but Peter’s a grown man and may do what he chooses. I’m not his keeper. Now hand me that tray of glasses. They belong on the sideboard.”

Crea glared at me, trying to read something into my purposefully innocent expression before she finally picked up the tray. “I mean it, Johanna.”

I smiled a response because she did indeed know me well and wouldn’t have believed anything I said on the subject.

The evening, as far as our family evenings went, moved along comfortably. Grandmother patted a place of honor for Drew next to her on the loveseat and seemed sincerely to enjoy his company. I couldn’t explain why I still had doubts on the subject. I certainly enjoyed his company and found him incredibly attractive besides, so why shouldn’t she? My suspicious nature might attribute other, less obvious motives to the woman, but she gave me no reason to do so. Grandmother enjoyed intelligent repartee with Drew, found his comments amusing, and probably was no more immune to his physical appearance than I was. If he put healthy color in her cheeks and brought a sparkle to her eyes, I should be grateful to him instead of uncharitably wishing he would spend all his time with me.