The Art of Love: Origins of Sinner's Grove (38 page)

Her dear friend’s prediction had come true: the societal clucking about Lia’s supposed affair with the married Mr. Wolff had died down considerably. Most likely she would have weathered the storm just fine, at least professionally. But once she’d made the decision to leave, she’d spread the word through Mrs. Mason and other clients that she was embarking on an “open-ended artistic sabbatical.”

“Why, I don’t know what we’re going to do without you,” Mrs. Mason had gushed when Lia told her about the trip over lunch the previous day. But the older woman tempered her words by leaning over and murmuring, “Of course it’s probably for the best.”

“Now you’re absolutely sure you want to do this,” Sandy confirmed as he watched Lia sort through her clothes one last time.

“Yes, and that would be the ninety-ninth time you’ve asked me that,” she replied.

He grinned as he held up a flimsy black negligee. “Ooh la la. Perhaps you won’t be alone for too long,” he teased.

Lia threw him a stony glare as she snatched the gown back from him. “In case you haven’t noticed, these take up a lot less space than the cotton variety.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Sandy sniffed. “I wear nothing at all.”

Sandy’s remark triggered memories of the nights Lia had slept with Gus. He’d never worn anything to bed and she loved to snuggle up against him for warmth. He’d been a big, solid mass of comfort…until he’d turn her on her back or her stomach and begin touching her with his strong, sensitive hands and mouth. Then, the feelings he’d brought out in her were something else entirely. She shivered at the thought and fought back the lump in her throat.

“I hear the new governor’s starting a campaign to clear out the rodents in Chinatown,” she said to change the subject.

Sandy nodded. “He has to do something. The whites are up in arms that nothing’s been done before now.” He waved his arms in mock panic. “They think the city’s going to collapse at any moment.”

Sandy was right. The old governor had lost re-election in part because he’d shoved Chinatown’s problems under the rug. San Francisco’s newspapers were full of hope that the new chief executive, George Pardee, would save the city from “almost certain annihilation.”

“I wonder what your patrons would think if they knew how many times you’ve combed those neighborhoods with me?” he mused.

“I guess it’s good I’m leaving town,” Lia said half-heartedly. The actual cases of sickness were few and far between, and it looked like the governor would quickly get the situation under control. But, as Sandy said, she wouldn’t be here to see it. The lump in her throat grew larger.

Sandy must have noticed, because he walked over to her and gently lifted her chin. “It’s not too late, you know.”

“Not too late for what?”

“To change your mind. To stay here. With him.”

Lia looked up at her friend, tears pooling. “I miss him so much,” she whispered.

“So, talk to him. See what you can do to work things out.”

Lia shook her head. “There’s nothing to work out. Only a choice to make. Do I sacrifice my self-respect and thumb my nose at society? Do I give up on the idea of children?”

Sandy put her face in his hands. “Or do you stand with the man you love and face those problems together?”

“I don’t know, Sandy. I don’t know that I’m strong enough.”

“It’s your decision to make, dear one. But know this: you are strong enough. Believe me.”

A short time later Sandy left, promising to take her to the port when it came time to leave. “And yes, I’ll take care of your little cottage here, and your storage, and all the other ‘honey do’s’ on your list.”

Lia playfully slapped him and then grabbed him, burying her face in his coat. “I’m going to miss you most of all, I think.”

He patted her on the back. “Same goes, darling. Same goes.”

Sandy’s words stayed with Lia for the rest of the day. Should she at least talk to Gus one more time? He no doubt knew she was leaving—she was a passenger on one of his ships, for goodness sake—wouldn’t he want to see her? She went back and forth until, in a spurt of courage, she dialed his home number. Mrs. Coats answered.

“No, I’m sorry, Miss Starling, Mr. Wolff has gone off on a business trip. I don’t know when he’ll be back. I’ll let him know you called.”

Lia turned numb at the housekeeper’s words. “Oh. Oh, don’t bother, Mrs. Coats. That’s all right.”

“Miss Starling, I just wanted to let you know your mural is magnificent. Mr. Wolff greatly admires it as well, although why he keeps it in the dark most of the time, I don’t know.”

What did Mrs. Coats mean? Lia couldn’t help asking, “If he keeps it in the dark, then why do you think he likes it?”

“Because he dragged his favorite chair into the room a few days ago and up until he left he would just sit there in the evening looking at it. If you don’t mind my saying so, he’s a good man, Miss Starling. It’s just a run of bad luck that tore you two apart, and that’s a fact.”

Lia smiled as tears began their familiar journey down her cheeks. “Thank you for saying that, Mrs. Coats. I’ll say goodnight now.”

The conversation left Lia more conflicted than ever. If Gus cared about her, why had he left town knowing she was sailing in two days? Was he running away from his feelings, or did he really just admire her for her work and that was all? She looked for any silver lining: it seemed as if he had understood the idea behind her painting. At least she hadn’t been wrong about that.

But was there anything more to them, at least on his side? She went to bed and fell into a fitful sleep, images assailing her from all sides: the Chinese beggars of Grant and Kearny streets; the children of Mulberry; George and Emma and babies; her father, stern and selfish and unyielding; and Gus, strong, supportive, but just out of reach, beckoning her with one hand but turning away whenever she got too close.

She woke up feeling exhausted, knowing that time was running out to tidy up her life in one place so that she could start again in another. It filled her with nothing but sadness and the shadow of regret.

CHAPTER FORTY

“
W
hat time did you say the
Cormorant
leaves, again?”

“Nine o’clock tomorrow evening. You’ve got time.”

Gus and Will had turned onto the long drive that led to the Double J ranch house. As they tied off their mounts, Gus noticed something different about the place. He looked around and after a moment realized it was the silence. No birds were chirping. No dogs were barking. It was a reverent quiet, as if the ranch had taken a break from the normal goings on that happen day after day.

“Something seem off to you?” he asked Will.

“Yes. Seems a bit too hushed around here.”

Gus tied off his horse and unpacked the box and bag he’d brought for Annabelle. He and Will knocked on the door and after a few minutes old Mr. Jones came out. He looked dead tired, as if the weight of the world had settled on his shoulders and wasn’t goin’ anyplace soon.

“We’ve been expectin’ you,” Mr. Jones said. He stood aside to let them in the house.

Gus looked around and noticed the door to the dining room was closed. It sounded like someone was crying. “Is your daughter feeling poorly this morning?” Gus asked.

“No. My daughter’s feelin’ nothing. Not anymore,” the old man said. “The Lord finally saw fit to take her up with Him in heaven.” He looked up at the ceiling. “Leastwise He better have, or He’s gonna answer to me.”

Gus had to hand it to the old man. He was clearly broken, but he simply reached for a handkerchief in his back pocket and wiped his eyes.

Gus and Will glanced at each other. Will raised his eyebrows as if to ask, “What now?”

“Sir, I know this is hell of a bad timing,” Gus said, “but you know your daughter said she wanted to talk to your son and…daughter-in-law…and for us to come back this mornin’.”

“Yessir, I know all about it.” He sighed. “Damn sorry business. If you’ll wait in the parlor, I’ll go tell them you’re here.” He led Gus and Will to a small room to the right of the front door. A small, uncomfortable-looking horsehair sofa shared space with two equally inhospitable chairs.

“Perfectly suited to host both traveling salesmen and church ladies,” Will commented. “Guaranteed to punish the butt and minimize the visit.”

Gus smiled briefly at Will’s attempt at levity and drummed his hat impatiently on his thigh. He wasn’t sure what to expect or how he should react. He was just grateful Will was on hand to step in in case Gus started to make a damn fool of himself.

After several minutes the door opened and a young man entered, dressed in mourning clothes. He was tall, light-haired, and boyish looking, not much older than Mattie. His sinewy body was testament to hours spent working hard in the outdoors. A lot of emotions seemed to play over the man’s face: grief, trepidation, anxiousness. But defiance too. The man had a family and looked willing to defend it. Gus couldn’t help but admire his grit.

“You probably know already. I’m Nathan Jones.” He held out his hand for Gus to shake it, but Gus didn’t react. Will stepped in to keep it civilized.

“Then you know why we’re here,” Gus said.

“I’m sorry we had to come at such a bad time,” Will added. “Sorry to hear about your sister, but under the circumstances…”

“Yes, I know the circumstances,” Nathan said curtly. “Look. We’re as shell shocked as you must be. Mattie never heard from you. For months. She thought…she assumed…you were dead and gone. And, well, you know the rest. I want your assurance you aren’t going to harm my…Mattie…in any way before I let her see you.”

“I’ll tell you what I know,” Gus said coldly. “I know you’ve been living a lie these past six years. I know you’ve been acting the father to my daughter while I wondered if she was living or dead. And I know I better see Mattie and my little Annabelle in the next five minutes or you’re not going to be standing upright and those pearly whites won’t be gracin’ your mouth.”

Will put his hand on Gus’s arm to stop the escalation. “Listen, none of us can change the past, but we can make this right moving forward.” He looked directly at Nathan, his tone both smooth and authoritative. “We’re going to pretend you didn’t just insult Gus by implying he might hurt his wife and child. I know you’re being protective and that’s admirable, but be sensible, Mr. Jones.”

Gus continued his staring contest with Nathan, but Will’s words caused the young man to blink. Nathan turned as Will spoke again.

“Now, I take it you are willing to cooperate in order to effect an expeditious divorce?”

Will asked.

Nathan nodded warily.

“All right, then. Under California law it’s much more difficult and time-consuming to obtain a dissolution of marriage, so you, my friend, are going to move temporarily to Nevada. We will handle the paperwork, there will be a six-month waiting period, and once the decree is finalized, you’ll be free to marry Mattie once again.”

Nathan scoffed. “I can’t leave the ranch. That’s way too inconvenient. You’ve seen my father…”

Will continued in a deadly calm voice. “Yes, I’ve seen your father, and I’m sure it will cause you some hardship to make up a story to your friends and neighbors and get some help running the ranch in your absence. That, however, isn’t my partner’s problem, it’s yours.” He paused, looking at Gus, who nodded. “But consider the alternative: we’ll tell your story to all who’ll listen. The papers adore scandal, you see, and Gus is well known. You and your poor so-called wife will be labeled home wreckers and bigamists, your poor son a bastard. And the little one still to be born? Well, he or she will bear the brunt as well.”