All the Blue of Heaven (8 page)

           
“Aunt Allie,” she whispered, “Follow along with me.” She held up the heavy
hymnal in front of her, little hands straining to keep it steady.

           
“Thank you, dear,” Allie whispered back, and put out a hand to steady the book.

           
“
Be Thou my battle shield, my sword for the fight
,” the congregation
sang out.

           
Allie stared at the old book, emotions warring within her heart. How many times
had she sung these words, believing in times of trouble that God would be her
shield?

           
“
Be Thou my dignity, Thou my delight
,” the lilting melody continued.

           
Where was her dignity now that she was covered in scars? Allie’s heart beat a
furious rhythm and she clenched her ruined hands.

           
“
Riches I heed not, nor man’s empty praise
,” the faithful sang and the
old sanctuary echoed with the timeless words.

           
But she did heed riches and man’s empty praise. She’d wanted them enough that
she’d left her home against her mother’s wishes. She had worked night and day
to earn both, enjoying the wealth and fame that came with being a sought-after
artist. How many times had she read and re-read the reviews of her work and
welcomed every fawning critic? Instead of putting away the money for Janey or
buying a home for them, she had spent it on travel and entertainment. Janey had
loved it all, but Allie felt sick realizing that one of those pleasure trips
would have fed them for a year in Illinois. She closed her eyes and wished with
all her might that the song would end.

           
“Auntie,” Janey whispered, “You’re not singing.”

           
She pretended to be reading along, but hummed a few bars, then cleared her
throat. Janey glanced up at her, concerned.

           
“I’ll have to wait a bit longer. My throat is still raw,” she whispered, a
reassuring hand on Janey’s shoulder. She glanced up and saw Thomas watching
her, his own hymnal neglected in his hand. His dark eyes were narrowed and
concern etched on his strong features. Allie raised one gloved hand, a timid
wave, hoping to earn a smile but he only nodded and turned back to the front of
the church. The minister was finally preparing to recess down the aisle. Allie
let go a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding and knew the service was
almost over.

           
Their small group exited the pew and worked their way down the aisle. Mrs.
Leeds nodded to several women, who looked curiously at Allie and Jane, and
passed on. Mrs. Gibson trailed behind them, murmuring to a friend.

           
“Welcome home, Miss Hathaway.” The minister greeted them kindly, but Allie felt
as if his eyes rested a bit too long on her face, his words of welcome shaded
with curiosity. He was only one minister removed from the one she had known
growing up. Surely he had heard the gossip. She smiled politely and was
grateful for the long line of parishioners waiting to shake his hand. They
moved quickly to the side and Allie wished for deep shade. The heat beat off
the flagstone path and the air was dead still. Allie looked out toward the
horizon and could see, dark clouds becoming ominous, towering thunder heads.

           
“Aunt Allie, may I?” Janey asked, her face lit up with yearning. She pointed to
the elderly man selling roasted peanuts near the corner.

           
“Here, my dear,” said Mrs. Gibson. Before Allie could answer, she gave Janey a
penny and sent her to buy a bag.

           
“That should keep her occupied for a minute or two,” a low voice murmured
behind Allie. Her heart reacted before her mind had processed the words. She
turned, already knowing who it was.

          
“Good morning, Mr. Bradford. Outside our church in San Francisco there was a
man who sold little crescent cookies with slips of paper inside that told your
fortune,” Allie said, speaking a little too quickly. She wished she could be
calmer, cooler, when he was around but it seemed as if she lost ten years every
time he got near.

           
“How very odd,” Mrs. Leeds exclaimed, opening her parasol and moving closer to
Allie so that she was shaded beneath it.

           
Thomas grinned. “Sounds fun.” His eyes crinkled at the corners and Allie
couldn’t help noticing how pleasing it was.

           
“It was entertaining to see how different they could be from your own plans,”
Allie continued. “Once I opened mine to find a little slip that read, ‘your
feet will touch the soil of many lands’.

           
“Auntie, taste these,” Janey called, trotting up to their little group.

           
“Oh, they smell delicious,” Allie said, taking a few of the hot peanuts in her
hand. She rubbed the shells between her fingers but the gloves made it
difficult to remove the coverings. Allie frowned, rubbing the nuts between her
palms but the shells stubbornly held together. She closed her hand around
them, and turned to Mrs. Gibson.

           
“Do you still play carpet bowling after services every Sunday?”

           
“Yes, we do! Your playing marble has been waiting for its master to return. Of
course, while you were gone I actually won a game or two. I can say goodbye to
that now.” Mrs. Gibson chuckled.

           
Thomas held out his hand and Allie blinked, confused.  He reached over and
opened her hand, taking the peanuts. He worked at the shells as he said, “Only
a game or two, since I was crowned king in your absence. Not a soul could come
as close to the marker, but every now and then I let Mrs. Gibson win so her
pride would not suffer. I was afraid her wonderful dinners would turn black and
ruined if she was denied the satisfaction for too long.”

           
Thomas tossed the shells in the bushes and held out the shelled nut meats for
Allie. She took them, gratitude welling up. It was such a small thing, but she
blinked back unexpected tears. She popped one in her mouth and bit down, the
sweet, roasted flavor filled her mouth. A memory flooded in of the times they
had roasted peanuts in a small pan in the carriage house while Thomas’s father
told them stories of growing up in Ireland.

           
“Mrs. Leeds, how wonderful to see you here,” a young man approached them from
the side, removing his hat. His brown hair was cut very short, almost shaved
near the neck and his face was clear of any mustache. A very fine suit was
complemented by a gold-topped walking cane. Inquisitive blue eyes traveled over
Allie and the little blond girl dancing around her with a bag of peanuts
rattling in her hand.

           
“Mr. Garrett, may I introduce my daughter, Alberta,” Mrs. Leeds said, motioning
for Allie to come forward. Allie stepped closer, bright smile pasted to her face.
She had to peer up at him He was very tall, even taller than Thomas. “Alberta,
this is Ransom Garrett.”

           
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” she said, extending a gloved hand. He
took it and bowed over it, holding her gaze. There was a mischievous look in
his eye that Allie liked instantly. He reminded her of an overgrown school boy.

           
“I’ve seen your portraits and I’m honored to meet you,” he said, giving her
hand a slight squeeze before letting it go.

           
Allie frowned and for a moment considered letting the comment pass, but instead
she said, “And where did you see them?”

           
“Mr. James Young sat for you in ‘05 and moved his business from San Francisco
to Chicago last year. It hangs in the meeting room in The Metropolitan Bank,
which he owns. Also, Miss Adelaide Summers, my cousin,  traveled to
California just to have her portrait done before her wedding a year ago. You
captured her red hair and fiery personality perfectly,” he said.

           
“I remember her,” Janey piped up, spilling peanuts out of the bag as she
attempted to shake one into her hand.

           
Allie turned, surprised. “You do?” She didn’t remember Janey meeting Miss
Summers.

           
“Sure. She had that little dog with the bow in its hair. He barked all the time
and she thought he was adorable but he was mean and had bad breath,” she said,
focused on removing the shell from her
treat.               

           
Thomas made a sound that could have been laughter but when Allie glanced at
him, he was looking over her head at the horizon.

           
“That is indeed Adelaide and Mr. Tubbs,” Mr. Garnett said, laughing.

           
“How was it that you were in Mr. Young’s bank?” her mother asked, in a tone
Allie felt was transparently hopeful.

           
“I trained at the Metropolitan Bank before I came here and joined Boyer Bank,”
he said, turning to Mrs. Leeds, his tall frame stooping a bit in her direction.
“I manage the building loans provided by the interstate railway programs.”

           
“Do you count all the pennies?” Janey asked, her eyes wide.

           
Mr. Garnett chuckled, winked at Allie. “Yes, that’s just what I do.”

           
Allie felt a flash of irritation and wished he had tried harder to explain his
profession. because Janey was clever enough to understand. How did anyone think
children would learn if they only gave them silly answers?

           
“I hope to see you at all the social occasions this winter, Miss Hathaway.”

           
“She is very much looking forward to it.” Mrs. Leeds fanned herself, looking
pleased.

           
Allie cringed inside and tried to look as if this was as wonderful as it
sounded. She glanced at Thomas and was surprised to see him grinning. She
didn’t remember him expressing any interest in dances, only activities of the
equine variety. But they were just children then, she reminded herself for the
tenth time. He is ready to marry and raise a family, to be a father.

           
Her heart gave a sudden lurch and her breath caught in her throat.

           
“Miss Hathaway?” Thomas’s voice brought her back to the present. “Are you
well?”

           
Allie cleared her throat, desperately rearranging her features into something
more like a young woman on the verge of an exciting social season. “Yes, thank
you. It’s a bit warm, isn’t it?” Allie flitted the silk fan near her cheeks.

           
“And I believe Janey is ready for a rest,” she said, smiling apologetically.
Allie’s gaze flicked up to meet Thomas’s quizzical expression and she mustered
her brightest smile.

           
“Janey, come now,” Mrs. Gibson called out as Janey scampered off in another
direction. Allie was grateful when Janey came at once.

           
“Alberta, you must rest when we return to the house,” her mother said quietly.

           
Allie knew that she had mistaken her emotion for tiredness, the pain on her
face as exhaustion. Of course she should explain that she was perfectly well,
for Janey’s sake. But as they reached the carriage and she sank gratefully into
the cool interior of the carriage, Allie could not think how to begin. Instead,
she leaned her head back against the seat and tried to erase the image of
Thomas marrying some beautiful young woman.

                                   
Chapter Six

           Thomas’s
mother called out from her place by the fire.  “Dear, be sure not to stay too
late.” She tilted her elaborately coifed head and gave him the look she
reserved for moments of true seriousness.

           
Thomas swallowed back a response that would have delayed his exit. The sitting
room was stuffed with darkly carved furniture, the windows draped with velvet
in a rich green hue that complimented the silk patterned wall coverings. It had
been redecorated just last month with the latest styles from Paris, but to him,
it looked exactly the same as it had the year before, and the year before that.
Thomas wished he was not an only child. If any of his sisters had survived
infancy, his mother would have had at least one more child on which to shower her
attention.

           He
wanted to ask her why she never worried about his lateness until now. But he
knew why. Eight years ago, she had watched Allie break her son’s heart. She had
known it would happen, had tried to tell him a hundred times that Allie was not
the woman for him, but he refused to listen. Thomas couldn’t really blame her
for being wary now. She watched him pick up the pieces of his life and work
twice as hard to be happy. But what she didn’t know was that he was determined
to keep his heart out of Allie’s way.

           
“Mother, I will return as soon as dinner is finished. Jeremiah Bascomb will be
there as well, so I do not anticipate a particularly pleasant evening.”

           
Mrs. Bradford nodded and tapped one thimbled finger against the linen she was
embroidering. “He is an influential man.”

           
Of course, his mother was always able to see the best in everyone... or at
least, to see the best way to surround herself with influential people. Thomas
admired her quiet determination, her ability to rise above her humble
beginnings as the daughter of an Irish mill worker. But he was never completely
comfortable with her methods. He could not listen to men like Jeremiah Bascomb
and nod his head.

           
“I’ll do my best,” he said, his tone light-hearted as he bent to lay a soft
kiss on the top of her head.

           
One last glance in the hall way mirror and Thomas strode out the door. He hated
the way his body hummed in anticipation, hated the drumbeat of his pulse in his
throat. It was a Sunday dinner, like so many others. Except for one person.

           
Thomas steered the sleek car into the lane and wished he had walked instead. It
would have given him more time to relax, to prepare for the hours ahead. There
was something about driving that made his blood pump faster and that was the
last thing he needed tonight. He exhaled slowly and eased up on the gas pedal.
The engine throbbed through the seat and Thomas rolled the window down a bit.
The cool late summer air buffeted against his face and he stretched his neck,
attempting to ease his tense muscles. Ever since this morning at church, he had
been unable to erase Allie’s face from his mind. When he had glanced back
during the service, there was a look in her eyes that had stopped his heart. It
was pain and loss and unbearable sadness.

           
Lord, hold and strengthen her. Help me speak the words she needs to hear.
Thomas turned into the long lane that lead up to Bellevue and felt his
heartbeat kick up a notch. He ran a finger around his collar.

           
And please, Lord, help me to not act like a fool.

           
                             
****

           
 “Auntie, are you ready to come down?” A small voice filtered into Allie’s
tired brain. She sounded very far away― and just for a moment―
Allie felt fear lance through her. Memories of smoke and fire threatened to
overwhelm her as she struggled to open her eyes. She saw her niece sitting on
the edge of the large bed.

           
“You’re all right,” she whispered.

           
“Of course, Aunt Allie,” Janey said, patting her on the shoulder. She was
already dressed in a light blue linen dress with a starched pinafore. Her blond
hair was smoothly braided into elaborate loops, the work of expert hands.

           
Allie sat up, wishing for a cool glass of water. The bathroom had a tap, but it
seemed too far to walk at the moment. Thank goodness the pounding in her head
had faded to a dull throb.

           
“You’ve slept the afternoon away. Dinner will be ready in an hour and Mr.
Bradford is coming!” She said this last bit as if he were Santa Claus coming on
Christmas Eve. “Grandma Leeds says I may stay for a bit, as long as I do not
talk overmuch.”

           
Allie suppressed a groan and rubbed her eyes. A dinner to sit through. With
Thomas.

           
There was a light tap at the door and Maggie poked her head in to say, “Mrs.
Leeds asked me to assist you with dressing for dinner.” Maggie moved swiftly to
the cedar armoire. “She says to wear the green gown. It is not so formal, but
is fresher than the one you have on.” Maggie glanced at Allie’s rumpled state.
“Mrs. Gibson hung your dresses in here a few days ago and they have been
pressed.”

           
Janey skipped to the armoire and peered inside. “Ooh, Auntie! The green gown is
lovely, with beads and little ribbon rosettes along the waist.” She clapped her
hands eagerly and beamed at Allie.

           
Allie perched on the edge of the bed and wished she had slept through the
night. She knew that gown very well. It was the one she was wearing when Thomas
asked her to stay, to marry him He had so many plans, they both did. But it was
impossible to follow them together. He couldn’t see that, no matter how she
tried to explain.

           
“I should have undressed before taking my rest. Is there a way to press this? I
might have... outgrown that gown,” she said.

           
“There’s no time, I am sorry.” Maggie frowned at the sparsely hung contents.
“There is a plain calico, but I am very sure Mrs. Leeds requested that you wear
the green.”

           
“I will wear the calico. It is cooler and not so formal.” And the neck is
higher. It will almost cover the puckered red scars. Although Maggie tried to
insist, Allie was determined. In the end, she descended the staircase in the
plain brown calico gown, mutinous curls tidied and pinned back. Her eyes were
plainly tired, but her mouth was set in a pleasant smile.

           
She could hear voices in the dining room as they drew closer. A rich baritone
and her mother’s clear, high voice intermingled with laughter. Allie paused,
little Janey at her elbow.

           
“Aren’t we going in to dinner?” she asked.

           
“Yes, yes, I just need a moment,” Allie whispered and leaned her head against
the doorjamb. They seemed so happy, so friendly. There was none of the
animosity of eight years ago when her mother thought Allie might choose the
carriage man’s son to be her husband. A wry smile touched her lips as she
remembered the shock on her mother’s face when she realized Allie’s plan was
much, much worse.

           
Taking a bracing lungful of air, she entered the dining room. The candles were
already lit along the table and the gas lamps glowed softly against the deep
burgundy walls. The table was set with fine china, its gleaming gold rims
contrasted with hand painted cabbage roses. This had always been Allie’s
favorite room because of the festive memories. Her eyes sought out the mark on
the silk wall covering when she had lost control of a particularly saucy piece
of lamb at Janey’s age. She started when Thomas spoke. He had risen from his
seat on a far chair and approached them with a smile. His suit was a light gray
flannel, so elegantly cut that Allie couldn’t help staring. It fit him
perfectly from shoulder to ankle, encasing his strong arms with ease. It was no
wonder that Louise Mayfield was desperate to get his attention.

           
“Mr. Morton was very pleased to see you today. He has always followed your
success.” His dark eyes radiated warmth.

           
Allie frowned, her gaze skittering to her mother’s face. Why did he have to
bring that up again? Couldn’t he tell how much her mother hated to hear about
her painting?

           
“Yes, he’s quite an interesting little man. I hear he also collects children’s
wind-up tin toys,” Mrs. Leeds said, her voice dripping with disdain. She
smoothed her crisp, lace covered gown with gloved hands and smiled tightly.

           
“And why have you worn that old calico? I specifically instructed Maggie to
make sure you dressed in the-“

           
Allie interrupted, desperate to avoid this conversation. “I am fully capable of
dressing myself, mother. I chose the calico.”

           
“But it so faded and old. You look frightful. Go upstairs at once and change-“

           
”The other is just a little too tight,” Allie interjected, breathlessly. Thomas
was glancing back and forth, an amused look on his face.

           
“No, it cannot possibly be tight. You are much thinner than you were when you
left. The green gown is the gown you must wear tonight.” Her tone held a
warning, there was no more argument.

           
Thomas had already heard. She raised her eyes, and his expression told her he
knew why she chose the calico. He remembered that night, too. The pain in his
eyes was so naked, so achingly familiar. Then, like a veil dropped over his
feelings, he blinked and turned to Janey.

            
“Would you like to sit near the window or at the other end with me?”

           
“No, no, Janey will sit next to me for soup, then she will go on to the kitchen
with Mrs. Gibson. You will sit here, across from Alberta. And our other guest,
Mr. Bascomb, will sit next to her.” Mrs. Leeds motioned to each place.

           
“Mr. Bascomb?” Allie didn’t recall hearing the name.

           
“I have invited a very prominent lawyer to dine with us.” She must have sensed
something in Allie’s expression because she continued, in a louder tone, “You
must think of the social season ahead. He was most kind to postpone his own
dinner plans tonight.”

           
Allie wondered why he couldn’t come some evening when he didn’t have plans, but
bit her tongue and nodded. The dull throb near her temples made her yearn for
her darkened bedroom.

           
“I will go change,” she said, accepting defeat.

           
Her mother waved her away with one hand. “Quickly, quickly! He is already ten
minutes late and should arrive any moment.”

           
Allie trudged up the stairs, dreading the green gown like a criminal dreaded
the gallows. An evening wearing a visible reminder of the fact Thomas had once
loved her sounded like torture.

           
She returned to the dining room, slender arms covered with white gloves to the
elbow and a diaphanous lace scarf tucked around the low neckline. Thomas stood
with his back to the room, seemingly examining a small statue near the
fireplace.

           
She watched Thomas’ shoulders straighten, as if he were steeling himself
against seeing her. Then he turned, his gaze sweeping over her, and the
expression in his eyes made her heart stutter to a stop. Her breath caught in
her throat as she stood before him, exactly as she stood eight years ago when
she announced she was leaving. When he proposed under the oak, the night close
around them, she had been so tempted to say yes. But she knew that he didn’t
love her like he did before he’d gone off to Iowa. Married to a man who was
only playing peace maker, while putting aside her own hopes? She couldn’t. Her
dream would fester like a sore if she wasn’t true to herself.

           
Of course, he accused her of rejecting him because he was poor. He had no
fortune, no land, only dreams and love. She would never forget the shock and
anger in his eyes, as if his whole world had ended in a flash.

           
But that was not what she saw now. His eyes were alight with happiness and his
features shone with pure joy. It was as if she had said yes, instead of no.
Allie’s pulse pounded in her ears and she sucked in a breath. Her mind spun
with confusion, scrambling to make sense of what she was seeing.                    

           
“Oh, Auntie! You look lovely, like a princess,” Janey exclaimed clapping her
small hands.

           
“Thank you, Janey,” she whispered, bending down to kiss her little cheek,
struggling to compose her features.

           
“Mmm, and you smell delicious,” Janey said, eyes bright.

           
Allie laughed, her heart lighter in her chest. “Silly. Are you going to eat me
for dinner?”

           
Maggie entered, leading a tall, thin gentleman. “Mrs. Leeds, Mr. Jeremiah
Bascomb has arrived.”

           
Their dinner guest could not have been more physically different from Thomas if
he had come from the moon. Sallow cheeks framed an overly large mouth and dark
blond hair was combed back from a high forehead with large amounts of pomade.
Mr. Bascomb seemed to have borrowed his sense of fashion from a scarecrow. His
suit hung from his gangly limbs with material to spare. It seemed a whole other
man could have fit in his white vest with him. He approached Allie’s mother and
doffed his hat. He bent over her, kissing her hand and murmuring a greeting too
low for the others to hear.

           
Mrs. Leeds dropped her gaze and inclined her head. Allie was struck by the
realization that her mother was flattered by this strange young man. Her
stomach knotted and she struggled to regain her pleasant expression.