Six Little Sunflowers: Historical Romance Novella (American State Flower) (8 page)

“Perhaps the next,” Félicie offered with a smile.

Seth’s mouth curved yet his grin remained stiff. “The next it is.”

“I shall look forward to it,” she answered.

He nodded and walked off.

“You won’t dance with Seth,” Carp grumbled. “Ever.”

She swiveled to face him. “You are quite snippy tonight. We need to talk.” Something in his expression must have caused her to feel the need to clarify, “In private please.”

Carp grabbed one of her gloved hands and made a bee-line to the ballroom’s west corner. There was nothing risqué about hiding with her behind a trio of potted citrus trees. The dimness of the lighting and the distance from the orchestra and from those milling about the perimeter of the ballroom provided the means for an intimate chat.

He released her hand.

She didn’t speak.

He raised his brows and waited.

She said nothing to end the awkward silence.

“Well?” he prompted.

Her gaze shifted to the trees, or through them to the dancers swirling about the floor. She seemed troubled over how to convey her thoughts. Or maybe she knew what she wanted to say and what troubled her more was if she should say them and if he would be receptive.

“I have given
us
much thought,” she was saying before she turned and met his gaze. “We are at a crossroads. As an employee of the Hotel Carey, I am held to a high moral standard. I cannot agree to your plan, for even if the engagement ended amicably, my reputation will be sullied and I will thusly lose my employment here. Mr. Eaton knew the true reason for my Leap Year Day proposal and was not pleased. I apologize for not conveying this information sooner. If I had, I am sure circumstances would be not as they are.” Her lips pursed—puckered really. But not in the manner of an innocent in preparation for her first kiss. More like in resignation.

Carp frowned. Had she ever been kissed? Why was he even wondering? He knew for certain she hadn’t. How he knew didn’t matter. He knew. Miss Félicie Richmond was many things. Indiscreet she was not.

She let out a defeated sigh. “I have reached the conclusion that the only viable option for me is to go through with the marriage.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

Carp dragged a hand through his hair. “You don’t want to marry me.”

“No more than you wish to marry me,” she acknowledged with a slight lift to her shoulder, the closest movement to a shrug he’d ever seen her do. “I considered pretending to be madly in love and desperate to marry in hopes you would balk and finally jilt me. Until I stepped into the ballroom, I fully intended to do just that.” She glanced about the room. “However, in light of what the wedding committee has invested into our engagement ball and would eventually spend on a wedding—it would be wrong, selfish, and mean. Additionally, I cannot keep pretending our relationship is real.”

He released a pent-up breath. “I know.”

“Have you heard? The circle of friends have decided on the third Friday in June.” She looked at him expectantly and repeated, “
This
June, Carpenter. As in next month.”

Carp stood there feeling like an idiot. What was he supposed to say? That he had no idea the wedding had been scheduled at all? That he hadn’t been consulted? That he was allowing a group of eight women to ride roughshod over him—over them both—with their ambitious and determined wedding plans? That he felt like a coward? The very idea that Félicie—that anyone—thinking he couldn’t handle the situation was humiliating. He could handle this. He had to.

The third Friday in June?

He felt the blood drain from his face. That was only three weeks away. Three. He had non-married things to do on the third Friday in June, as well as the first, second, and fourth Fridays. He had non-married things to do in July and August and in every month after August for the next sixty years.

“There’s no need to panic,” he said in a firm tone.

“Is that for my benefit or yours?” Her lips twitched with amusement. “Be honest.”

He gave her a bland smile. “There are times when it is necessary for a man to give the appearance of confidence.”

Her head tilted as she studied him.

Then she gave his hand a little squeeze before letting go.

Carp fisted his palm. She trusted him. In that one touch, he knew she believed he had the ability to handle this. She believed in him. But if he reached for her—

If he drew her to him, he would kiss her.

And nothing would be the same.

He
wouldn’t be the same.

He didn’t want to change. He liked who he was. He liked his life. He liked putting out fires. He liked fishing with Joe. He liked laying in his hammock on a summer’s night and listening to his neighbors’ children squeal as they caught lightening bugs. He could catch more than Félicie. She’d insist she could, but he knew better. Then she’d roll her eyes at him. He’d start chasing her. And when he caught her, he’d maneuver it so they’d fall but she would fall on him and they’d kiss. Buttons would come undone. Then he’d have to carry her inside because his neighbors’ children were next door chasing lightening bugs, and they didn’t need to see him and Félicie—

“That’s not what we planned,” he muttered.

“I know. You are a good man, Carpenter Yeary,” she said with a sad smile, “and I’m sorry I put us—”

The waltz ended with a crescendo.

Applause broke out.

Carp followed Félicie’s gaze as she glanced over her shoulder to the dance floor. Seth stood off to the side, looking their way, frowning. Rena touched her dance partner’s arm, said something to which he nodded, and then she walked over to Seth. She grabbed his hand. He nodded then allowed her to lead him out for the next dance.

“She plays too much with fire,” he said.

“Perhaps.”

He eyed Félicie, but she was still watching the dance floor.

Her brow furrowed. “Rena is willing to risk a few burns because she believes she will eventually find the right man.”

“The right man?” he repeated.

Félicie nodded. “The one who will come after her, who will say he loves her and won’t ever let her get away.” She gave a weak smile. “They all let her get away.”

“You don’t think she’ll find one who won’t?”

She didn’t have to speak for Carp to know her answer.

By the sadness in her expression, he could tell she didn’t believe in Prince Charmings or fairy tales or happily-ever-afters. She believed in making the best of the circumstances. She believed in working hard. She never seemed uncomfortable in the awkward silences. She never balked in the face of the unknown.

He feared change. She tackled it head-on.

Carp looked at his still-clenched hand. He hazarded a glance back at Félicie, her fingers fluttering against her skirt in perfect rhythm with the music.

His heart pounded in his chest. Fist tightened.

Her hand brushed her skirt.

They didn’t have to marry. They could follow his plan and allow the engagement to die in the throes of gossip over the weekend. On Monday he could meet privately with Ben Eaton and take the blame for everything, thus sparing the hotel owner from firing Félicie. Neither of them had to lose anything. It would all work out. He’d make it work.

Or they could stay engaged and marry the third Friday in June per the wedding committee’s plans.

Would it be so bad if they married?

He’d yet to meet another female with whom he was more compatible; and if there was one, he didn’t want to meet her. He liked Félicie better. He respected and admired her. He certainly wanted her in his bed—he’d spent enough time thinking about it and then trying to honor her by not thinking about it. They made a good team—anyone could see that. She made him laugh. She made him think about adopting kittens, and he detested cats. She was strong and capable, kind-hearted, loyal, self-assured, beautiful, and...

His heart tightened in his chest.

She didn’t need him.

It wasn’t right or fair of him to make her feel like she had no other option but to marry him. He was being selfish. He knew it.

But he needed her.

He needed Félicie in his life.

She made his life better. She made him a better person. If that wasn’t a solid foundation for marriage, he didn’t know what was.

She leaned a fraction to the left, bumping his shoulder in the process. “Oh dear, we’ve been spotted. Mrs. Grbic is waving at me. I should go dance.” She took a step.

Carp grabbed her hand. “Not without me.”

Her gaze shifted from him to their clasped hands. “If you do this,” she warned, “there is no undoing it.”

“We’re a team.”

She released a soft sigh. “You are so stubborn.”

Carp stepped closer. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

With one hand, he pressed her hard against him, allowing him to feel her supple curves. With the other, he raised her chin. At the tiniest brush of his lips against hers, she gasped, and he tasted mint. Something sweet. Something chocolatey. She must have enjoyed the last of the fudge he’d bought her from Candy Pete. As his tongue brushed along the silky inside of her upper lip, her eyes met his, wide and filled with uncertainty and also with what he hoped was desire.

Carp grinned. He turned his back to the trio of citrus trees, shielding her from their audience, and really kissed her. He wanted her. Right now he needed her to know how much he wanted her. Her free hand gripped his coat lapel, clinging as she responded. She wanted him, too. If she didn’t realize it...well, he had three weeks to convince her.

She whispered his name.

Carp drew back and caught his breath.

She was looking at him with a sense of wonder. “Why did you do that?”

For a moment he could do nothing but stare
.

He liked Félicie. From the day they met, he liked her. She was the best partner he’d ever had at cards. She had cheerfully learned to ride the tandem bicycle Mrs. Buckwalter had given them as an engagement gift. She’d not complained once when he took her canoeing. If he asked her to take a ride in a hot air balloon, he knew she’d agree without a second of hesitation. When she laughed, she did so with gusto. He loved when she complimented him; he could see in her expression and in her tone that she truly meant it. When she wasn’t impressed, he knew that, too. Félicie Richmond would never be anyone’s sycophant…which was good because his life was filled with them. He loved how, when they held hands, she was never the first to let go.

He never wanted her to let go. He loved her.

Carp smiled. He loved Félicie. Anyone looking at her would know she’d been thoroughly kissed. He couldn’t think of a time he’d felt more pleased.

“I had to,” he answered in all truth.

Her lips curved with a hint of a smile. “Had to?”

“This is our engagement ball.” He tipped his head to the audience behind them. “We have to appease the masses.” Even in the dim light, he could see her blush.

“You’re insufferable.”

“I know.” With that, Carp led her toward the applauding crowd.

Woman is man’s choicest treasure. That is the most precious which confers the most happiness. All God could do He has done to render each sex superlatively happy in the other. Of all his beautiful and perfect work, this is the most beautiful and perfect.

~Social Life; or The Manners and Customs of Polite Society

Tuesday – June 16th

4:23 p.m.

Engine House No. 2

232 S. Topeka

A
S THE BRASS GONGS BELLOWED,
Carp followed his crew, silently, swiftly, sliding down the pole from ceiling to floor like blue-shirted ghosts. Wordlessly he jerked on his gear, all thoughts of rehearsal dinner with Félicie gone. Service calls rang on the telephones. Ignoring them, Carp dashed to the engine house doors.

“Six seconds!” yelled Leland as Clark roared the engine to life. “Might have been worse.”

Carp swung the doors wide. “Better strike the curb in eight and a half!”

Ladder 2 burst past. Carp grabbed the end, swinging onto the back step before the truck banged onto Broadway. He quickly latched his coat and strapped on his hat. His heart pounded as the bells rang and street traffic moved out of their way. He could see a plume of black smoke rising over the buildings to the north, not but a few blocks away.

Joe steadied himself on the other side, the straps of his hat dangling loose. “This one’s burning quick.”

Carp sniffed the air. “Smells like ethanol.”

“Moonshine?”

“I wager Raylan Primm’s distillery blew.” The truck hit a bump, and Carp readjusted his hold. “I heard he’d started brewing beer.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?” Joe paused, clearly thinking. “Primm has a daughter, doesn’t he?”

“Why do you want to know?”

Joe shrugged. “No reason.”

Carp looked over his shoulder to the water wagon behind them. Parker scowled under his helmet, jerking fast on the alarm-cord as Gillon spurred the horses. Pumper 2, clanging, rumbled at their heels. Behind them came the horse-drawn ambulance.

Carp swayed as Ladder 2 turned left onto Lincoln.

He counted the blocks. One... Two... Three... One last turn. He braced himself and held tight as the truck swung right onto Main Street and—

Bam!

His face smacked the truck. Ladder 2 tipped. His grip loosened then released, and he flew backward, hitting the ground. As a
bzzzzz
sounded in his ears, he reached to unstrap his hat. Everything went black.

~***~

Wichita Hospital

Northwest corner Seneca and Douglas

“How does a horse-drawn trolley hit a ladder truck?” murmured Rena, her gaze on Félicie as she paced in front of the doors to the ward for those receiving emergency care. “One would think the opposite more likely.”

Félicie dried her moist palms on her calico skirt, careful to avoid the ink she’d spilled after hearing news of the accident. She patted the lone empty spot on the bench. “You should sit.” She gave Rena a you-really-need-to-obey-me look. “Rena, please.”

Rena slid onto the bench, crossed one leg over the other, and then tapped the skirt of her red silk dress. “Why are you so calm? They could be dying.”

Félicie stopped breathing. It was possible. She’d heard when Ladder 2 tipped Carpenter had been thrown onto the ground and knocked unconscious. She tensed. He could be dying and no one was telling her. The moment she arrived at the hospital she’d been besieged with description of his bloody face.
Head busted open,
some said.
Internal bleeding
and
broken neck,
insisted others.

“Carpenter is not dying.” She pasted on a smile for the benefit of the dozens of other Wichitans milling about the foyer, all desperate to hear word on the condition of their two heroic yet injured firemen. For good measure, she added, “Neither is Joe. A nurse told me their injuries were superficial.” Until the doctor said otherwise, that was what she would believe. It was what she
had
to believe.

Murmurs echoed about the hallway.

Félicie clasped Rena’s hand to stop it from tapping. She leaned close. “Your panic is making them nervous,” she whispered. “Stop. We have to set a good example.”

Rena’s eyes closed. She drew in a ragged breath. “I don’t know if I can,” she whispered back. “He wasn’t moving when they brought him in.”

That gave Félicie pause. The nurse had specifically stated Carpenter had been tied down in the ambulance to keep him from charging back to the fire. Andrew Clark had apparently climbed out of the truck, waited for the ambulance to arrive to care for Carpenter and Joe, and then joined the rest of Engine Company 2 in battling the blaze and rescuing the tenants stuck on the fire escape. Since she doubted Rena was referring to the trolley driver, that left—

“Do”—she lowered her voice—“do you have feelings for Joe?”

“Not good ones,” came the terse reply.

Félicie had no response. She stared at Rena as her mind struggled to make sense of it all. Joe? Joe McDermott? Not once could she remember Rena speaking Joe McDermott’s name. The man had been the only bachelor from Engine House 2 who hadn’t been on Mama’s list. Now that she thought about it, Joe had been the only bachelor Rena hadn’t danced with at the engagement ball. In fact, she’d never seen the pair talk. If anything, they behaved as if the other didn’t exist.

She kept her voice low. “Does he feel likewise?”

This was met with silence.

Sensing Rena’s desire to be left alone with her thoughts, Félicie turned her attention to the doors. A trio of nurses exited. An orderly entered.

A telephone rang down the hall.

People milled about the foyer.

Rena sighed.

A door opened. Dr. Trumble stepped out, shifting his spectacles in the pocket of his white coat. “Miss Richmond, Carp would like to see you.”

Félicie stood and ignored the fluttery feelings in her stomach. Tightly gripping Rena’s hand, she all but pulled her to Dr. Trumble. As soon as they stepped inside the noisy ward half-filled with patients, Rena froze. Félicie looked from Rena to the bed in the middle of the right side row of beds where Joe McDermott was sitting. He wore a white nursing cap atop the bandages around his head, his shoulder-length hair dangling from underneath. Five nurses sat around him, all laughing. A sixth adjusted the pillows behind his back.

“You don’t have to...” began Félicie.

“I do.” Rena’s shoulders straightened. A smile brightened her expression as she marched Félicie past Joe’s bed to the last one on the left side of the ward, empty save for Carpenter.

Carpenter sat propped up by pillows, holding an ice pack on his nose, and clearly not suffering from a broken neck. His right arm looked fine, but his left wrist was splinted. He grinned. Or at least Félicie presumed he was grinning considering the swelling on his face, in particular around his formerly straight nose. Both eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, but only the left looked to be on its way to swelling shut. He didn’t seem bothered by the dried blood droplets on his white jersey shirt.

Félicie sat in the wooden chair on the right side of the bed.

Rena moved around to the left. She gave him a hug. “Carp, you look terrible, but don’t think this is going to get you out of the wedding. Trust me, Fay was never marrying you for your looks.”

His eyes widened. “They said I look dashing.” He turned to Félicie. “Sweetheart, don’t I look dashing?”

“Not in the least.” She pointed gingerly toward his red nose, both nostrils packed with gauze. “Is it broken?”

He looked down at his nose, eyes crossing. “Yep. Hurts like the dickens, too.”

Félicie glanced between Carpenter and Rena. She wanted to be amused. She wanted to feel relieved that he was all right. Something weighed heavy her chest. And it hurt. It made her want to run and not look back.

Instead she asked: “Any internal bleeding?”

“Nope.”

“Busted scalp?”

“Not even a scratch.” He winked with his good eye.

Félicie hesitated, her heart thundering against her rib cage. She had to know. She had to ask.

“Could you have died?” she said softly, realizing the depth of her fear as soon as the words passed her lips. From the corner of her eye she could see Rena looking at her strangely.

“The possibility of dying is part of my job.” Carpenter grimaced then replaced the ice pack against his face. “What matters is…I’m not dead yet.”

Félicie tried to smile, but it wouldn’t form.

What matters, Félicie, is I love him.

What about me, Mother? Don’t
I
matter?

One day, when you find true love, you’ll understand why I have to leave.

In three days she was going to marry Carpenter and she still didn’t understand her mother’s reasoning.

I’m not dead yet.

His words burrowed their way into her heart.

Félicie pressed her chest, hoping to stop the pounding. He could die. Tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the next. For certain one morning he would walk out the door and never come back. Like her mother never came back. Because her mother believed she’d finally found true love with a man she barely knew. True love was more important to her than her twelve-year-old daughter. No matter how much Félicie had begged, how much she’d told her mother she loved her, she hadn’t been enough. She wasn’t worth sacrificing everything for.

Only true love was worth it.

How did one prove the true-love-ness of love? It couldn’t be proven. It was all feelings. How many men had Mother loved before she finally found the truest of loves? Too many. Feelings change. People change. Feelings change. Love walks out the door. Love dies. People die. No matter what Félicie tried to do to stop it, the circle wouldn’t break. It was the reality of life.

The sad truth was, she’d spent more years without her mother than she had with her, yet she kept believing one day her mother would return. Mama Helaine was right. No matter how many bread crumbs Félicie had left on the ground for her mother to find her, she wasn’t coming back. She didn’t love her enough to stay. In the last sixteen years, she didn’t love her enough to come back. Carpenter wasn’t even marrying her because he loved her.

“Did they give you something for the pain?” Rena said, breaking the silence because if anyone didn’t like silence, it was Rena.

Carpenter’s serious gaze shifted from Félicie to Rena. “Aspirin,” he answered with none of the earlier merriment in his tone. “Maybe morphine.” His look seemed to
ask do you know what’s wrong with her?

“You two should probably have some time alone to talk.” Rena gave his arm a little squeeze. “Let me know if you need anything.”

He nodded.

She smiled at Félicie. “Don’t forget the final fitting for your gown is in the morning.”

Félicie nodded. She watched as Rena spoke to Dr. Trumble then walked out of the ward without a single glance in Joe McDermott’s direction. Félicie shifted her attention to Joe. He was tracing one of the nurse’s palms. She didn’t realize she was frowning until Carpenter said—

“I take it you finally noticed.”

She turned to him. “You knew?”

Carpenter dropped the ice pack next to his thigh. His hand curved around hers. “Let them work it out, or let them do nothing. It’s not our place to meddle.”

Félicie nodded. Whatever there was (or wasn’t) between Rena and Joe was their business. Their mistakes to make. Their mistakes to fix. Their mistakes to ignore.

I’m not dead yet. Not dead yet. Not dead…

As his words echoed in her mind, she gave his hand a squeeze. “I should go. You need a clean shirt.”

“You’ll come back?”

She stood, gave a non-committal smile, and slid the ice pack into his palm, curling his fingers around it. After placing a soft kiss on his cheek, she paused to give him opportunity to pull her to sit beside him on the bed and hold her. To tell her he loved her. To say he was never leaving. Never dying. Never breaking her heart. Never casting her away unwanted.

He did nothing of the kind. Instead, he raised the ice pack to his face.

And so she left the ward without a backward glance.