Bicycle Built for Two (22 page)

Alex strained to keep his temper from
flaring again. “I thought both of your brothers held jobs. Aren’t
they busy during the morning on Saturdays? I’m sure I saw Bill
behind the counter in Schneiders.”

He felt a surge of triumph when her lips
pursed in frustration. “Yeah, well, I could have found someone to
help me.”

“You did,” Alex said more smugly than he’d
intended. “Me.”

“Hmph.”

“Face it, Kate, I’m concerned about your
mother. Being concerned about your mother includes concern for you,
whether you want to admit it or not. If anything happened to you,
your mother would be devastated.”

“I know that. What does that have to do with
you picking me up at my flat?” Her expression took on even more
defiance, which Alex would have believed impossible until it
happened. “For your information, I’m not proud of where I live,
Alex English. I don’t like having you see where I live. It’s ugly,
it’s poor, it’s dangerous, and— well, it just is, is all.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Kate. I know what your
circumstances are. Do you think I care about that?”

“Darn it,
I
care about
it!”

“Oh, for . . .” Alex swallowed another hot
rejoinder, and reminded himself that she had a point. Not a good
point, in his considered opinion, but he could almost understand
her sentiments on the subject. He’d most likely have felt the same,
if he were in her shoes. God forbid.

She went on. “Do you think I like having
some rich swell barge into my life and turn up his nose at me?”

This time Alex considered his outrage more
than justified. “I do not turn up my nose at you!”

“Maybe not now, but you did.”

“That’s not fair, Kate.” He felt as if she’d
punched him in the heart, as a matter of fact. He was the good guy
here, dash it.

“The heck it isn’t. Your nose was stuck so
high in the air that first day when you wanted to toss me out of
the Exposition, I’m surprised you could see where you were
going.”

“That’s ancient history! You’re surely not
going to drag that incident into the conversation again, are
you?”

Fire flared in her eyes.
“Darn it, that
incident
, as you call it, almost cost me my livelihood! And if you’d
succeeded in getting me kicked out of the fair, what do you think
would have happened to Ma then?”

“But I didn’t get you kicked out, if you’ll
recall. As a matter of fact, since that first meeting, I’ve been
trying to help your mother.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t want to at first.”

He sucked in air and held onto it for long
enough to suppress his bellow of outrage. After he calmed down a
trifle, he muttered, “You’re not a proponent of forgiving and
forgetting, in other words.”

“I can’t forget! You scared me to death! You
threatened my mother and me!”

“That wasn’t my intention,
as even
you
must
understand by this time.”

“Huh.”

“My intention was to protect the integrity
of the greatest exposition of American invention and creative
expression ever presented to the world. The World’s Columbian
Exposition is—is—well, it’s like my baby. I didn’t want your father
and you to cast inappropriate shadows over what was intended to be
a showplace of all things wonderful in our country.”

She glowered at him. She had a great face
for glowering: small, vivid, and glowing at the moment with bright
flags of fury. “My father isn’t—”

“Your fault. I know. I admit, and have
admitted before, that your father isn’t your fault. You’re doing
everything in your power to overcome your father’s influence in
your life, and to remove your mother from the brute’s
clutches.”

“Yeah, well, it took you a while to admit
it.”

“Oh, for . . .” Gritting his teeth and
feeling persecuted—he didn’t enjoy remembering his first
antagonistic meeting with Kate, since he believed it portrayed him
in a less-than-stellar light—Alex said, “I’m sorry that I didn’t
understand your situation before we met, Kate. But how could I? And
how many times must I apologize for that one mistake? Besides, you
must admit that as soon as I learned about your problems, I’ve been
trying to help.”

“Hmph.” She turned her head and commenced
glaring out the window.

Alex studied her profile, wondering why they
were fighting. More, he wondered what they were fighting about. Was
it because Kate still resented his misjudging her character and
moral fiber before they met? That wasn’t his fault, as even she’d
probably admit if she ever admitted anything.

Was it because she was afraid he was taking
over her life and her mother? This possibility had some merit.
She’d even more or less said it outright once or twice, although
since he’d come to understand her extreme sensitivity regarding
certain aspects of her life, he’d tried very hard to ease her
insecurities on the subject. It gratified Alex that he could help
Mrs. Finney and, by extension, Kate and her brothers. They were a
worthy family, except for the father, and they deserved a
break.

Or was it that kiss? Alex stared moodily out
the window and thought about it. He didn’t know about Kate, but he
hadn’t forgotten that kiss. Dash it. He didn’t think he’d ever be
able to forget it, as a matter of fact. Every time he remembered
it, his unruly manhood stood to attention and saluted. He wanted
her badly. Very badly.

Although Alex had spent some time in recent
months vaguely reflecting on the subject of marriage, he hadn’t
considered the sexual aspects of such a union. Except in terms of
providing heirs to keep the family business going, he hadn’t
bothered to consider the appeal of certain women on a carnal level.
He’d always believed that marriage stood apart from carnality,
rather as an ideal of perfection. Alex hadn’t considered that the
perfect marriage should include sexual compatibility, mainly
because such topics never intruded into conversations and he’d
never had to think about them. Until that kiss.

Because he didn’t care to brood too long on
the kiss, with Kate only a foot or so away from him, Alex decided
to review the list of ladies who would make appropriate wifely
candidates for him. His lip curled when he thought about Mabel
Howell, and he made it stop.

Poor Mabel. She was an all-right sort of
lady, but she had a dreadful giggle, buck teeth, and, Alex would
swear it, she’d never produced an original thought in her life. Not
that Alex believed that women necessarily should be original
thinkers. Still and all, he unquestionably required a woman who
wouldn’t bore him to death within ten minutes of the conclusion of
the wedding ceremony. Besides, the brighter the mother, the
brighter the children, and Alex didn’t care to sire dolts.

Then there was Julia Bigelow. Julia was
quite pretty. No buck teeth in her mouth. And she was smart,
according to all the teachers in the small school both she and Alex
had attended during their growing-up years. Alex held no prejudices
against ladies who wore spectacles, and he didn’t think Julia’s own
eye-wear detracted from her overall attractiveness. She did have a
rather declaratory pattern of speech, however, and one always got
the feeling Julia was bestowing a particularly gracious
condescension upon a fellow by speaking to him.

No. Alex didn’t think he’d enjoy marriage to
Julia. In truth, and totally without partiality, Julia was a prig
and a pedant, she considered herself superior to pretty much
everyone else in the world, and she’d make a very uncomfortable
wife.

The notion of Julia rearing his children
caused him a pang, as well. He didn’t think children needed to be
condescended to and treated like inferior boobies. The notion of
Julia treating a child of his loins the way she treated her friends
made his blood run cold. Any child of Julia’s would grow up
thinking he—or she; Alex wouldn’t mind having girl children—was
undeserving and unwanted.

Not that children didn’t require discipline.
However, Alex preferred his mother’s mode of discipline, which was
delivered with gentleness, love, and a guiding hand, to what he
expected Julia would mete out to her offshoots.

So. That eliminated Mabel and Julia. Who
else was there? Alex brooded over prospects as he continued to gaze
absently out at the city.

Imogene Hamilton. Ah, yes, Imogene. She was
a sprightly sort; totally unlike Julia, who was as stiff as a
stick, and less giggly than Mabel, who was a brainless nitwit. Alex
supposed Imogene was a possibility.

But, really, as much as Alex liked and
appreciated Imogene, he’d always thought of her more as another
sister than as a sexually attractive female or a viable future wife
for him. Imogene and Alex’s second-youngest sister, Elizabeth, had
been the best of friends. Still were, he guessed. Alex had been a
big brother to both of them, and he didn’t think he could suddenly
begin thinking of Imogene as a wife.

And . . . But this was a ridiculous
exercise. Alex knew why he’d been wasting time thinking on it,
though. He was trying to downplay his attraction to Kate Finney.
Although he hated admitting it, he feared the Kate problem was
going to require more than a few idle moments spent contemplating
other women. Not only did Alex not give a fig about the other women
he knew, but the notion of bedding anyone but Kate left him feeling
empty. The notion of bedding Kate and degrading both her and
himself left him feeling sick.

“There’s the hospital.”

Kate’s simple comment succeeded in dragging
his brain back from the dismal contemplation of impossible options.
“Ah, yes.”

“I hope they have one of those wheeled
chairs, so Ma doesn’t have to walk down all those stairs. She can
take a little exercise, but I don’t want her to wear out before we
get to the country.”

“I’ve arranged for a chair.”

The skeptical glance she shot him didn’t
escape Alex’s notice. He sighed. “I’m not trying to take over your
position in your mother’s life, Kate.”

“I know that.” She didn’t sound like it.

“I only want your mother to be as
comfortable as possible. It will be a long ride for her.”

“I know that.”

Alex heaved another sigh. Frank drew the
carriage up to the front steps of Saint Mildred’s, hopped down from
his seat—Alex guessed poor Frank didn’t want him usurping any more
of his duties—and flipped the stairs down. Without speaking again,
Alex held out a hand. After a hesitation so brief he might not have
noticed if he weren’t so exquisitely aware of everything she did,
Kate took his hand and descended the steps. Alex followed her,
sighed yet again, and walked with her into the hospital.

Mrs. Finney, in a wheelchair, with Sister
Mary Evodius standing next to her and beaming like the sun itself,
awaited them in the hospital’s lobby. Alex noticed two spots of
color in Mrs. Finney’s cheeks, and prayed that they signified
eagerness to begin this country trek and not fever. He watched Kate
rush up to her, smiling as if she hadn’t a care in the world, and
kiss her mother’s cheeks. Mrs. Finney glowed at her daughter.

“You look swell, Ma.”

“Thank you, Katie, darling. Sister Mary
Evodius has been taking good care of me.”

“It’s a good thing.” But the grin Kate gave
the nun held nothing but gratitude and friendship.

“Good morning, Mrs. Finney. You’re looking
bright and pretty this morning.”

Mrs. Finney acknowledged Alex’s comments
with a brilliant smile. “This is so kind of you, Mr. English. I’m
so looking forward to getting out of the city for a while.”

“I’m glad.” Alex smiled at the nursing
sister. “Here, Sister, let me take over this operation.”

“There was no need for the chair,” Mrs.
Finney murmured. “I’m not completely helpless.”

“I’m sure of it, but there’s no need to
over-exert yourself.” He was sure of no such thing. For all the
color blooming in her cheeks this morning, Alex could swear she
grew smaller every time he saw her. It was as if she were fading
away before his eyes, and his heart ached for Mrs. Finney and
Kate.

“I can push her.” Kate’s voice was
sharp.

Alex considered telling her not to be
foolish, but thought better of it. “If you want to.” He stepped
aside. Kate gave him an odd look, almost as if she were
embarrassed, although Alex wasn’t sure about that. Embarrassment
seemed unlikely from this source.

Mrs. Finney glanced from her daughter to
Alex, sighed, and said, “I’m looking forward to meeting your
mother, Mr. English.”

“Please,” he said, “call me Alex. And my
mother is looking forward to meeting you, too. I’m sure you two
will find many things in common.” That wasn’t even a lie, although
it sounded funny, even to his own ears.

“Yeah?” said Kate. She sounded absolutely
skeptical.

Her mother murmured, “Katie.”

Alex didn’t react. He was getting used to
being abused by Kate.

# # #

Kate mentally swore at herself to stop being
such a witch to Alex. It wasn’t his fault he was a nice man to whom
she was wildly attracted. She knew good and well there was nothing
in a future with him, because he was rich and educated and socially
prominent, and she wasn’t. She was dirt. She was nobody from
nowhere.

Actually, she was nobody from the slums,
which was probably even worse than being from nowhere. If she’d
been born to a poor ranching family in Texas or somewhere, she
might exude a tolerable bit of cachet to the folks in Alex’s
circle. But, as ever, her luck ran true. It was uniformly bad.

Perhaps not totally. Her father was in jail
again, and with Alex pressing charges, maybe he’d stay there long
enough for her to relocate. Again. Maybe her luck was turning.
Probably not. Pa would probably find her wherever she went. It
irked her that if anybody did the world a favor and shot him dead,
it would be the perpetrator of that act of mercy who got sent up
the river. If justice prevailed in the world, her father would have
died before he’d been allowed to cause so much trouble and terror
and pain.