Forbidden Love (32 page)

She stood and slipped her nightgown over her head and down over her body.
“Very well, my husband.
You already know the truth.” She nodded toward the letter he still clutched. “Yes, I have met another man, one I love very much. And–“

”Harlot!” he spat.
“Slut!”

She shook her head, weary beyond belief, feeling as if she had aged ten years this evening. “No, William, I have not dragged
my
wedding vows in the dirt. I’m as chaste as the day we married.”

“And you expect me to believe that?”

“I really don’t give a damn what you believe. It’s the truth!”

He wagged a finger in her face. “Then let me tell you something, my dear wife. Forget your lover, because you will remain married to me for the rest of your life. Don’t think for one minute I will grant you a divorce. I will not bring shame on my family name, even if–“

”Shame?
Who are you to speak of shame?
You with your mistresses!”

“That’s my business and my prerogative. But you are my wife–“

”In name only, William.
In name only.”
Ah, dear God, she had to get through this nightmare.

He glared at her,
then
stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him. She heard his heavy footsteps thudding down the long hallway.

A deep silence engulfed the room. Lisa sank onto the bed, struggling to calm her wildly-beating heart. After an eternity, she slipped under the covers, well aware she’d sleep little this night, if at all.

Throughout the long night, wild, crazy ideas taunted her. With her jewelry as a bribe, she’d persuade the warden to release Owen from jail. They’d run away to
Canada
or
Mexico
, where no one would know them. Her eyes ached from sleeplessness as she tossed and turned, recognizing the last idea as a foolish daydream. No, the only option was for her to find a house for herself, one where Owen could visit her with no fear of recriminations. If she couldn’t be free of her marriage, she would at least be free of her husband.

Chapter Twenty-two

Owen tossed a textbook onto his bunk and paced the floor of his cell, his mind raging with problems. He had to see Lisa again, and soon. Surely by now she'd received his letter, so she'd know he was stuck in jail. But every day, every day!
he
thought he'd be released. He should've known it would take a long time to raise the $10,000 bail. He banged his fist against the wall. When the hell would they free him?

He heard footsteps, and peering through the open bars, he saw a guard approach.
His
cell?
Maybe, maybe . . . A key scraped in the lock, the door creaking open.
Owen's
head jerked up. It wasn't mealtime or exercise time, so . . . His heart leaped,
then
fell.
Mustn't get his hopes up.

"You're free to go," the guard said. "Your attorney has posted bail." With a sympathetic nod, he stood aside to let Owen pass.

"Thank God!" A short while later, Owen walked down the steps of the jail and emerged onto
Ross Street
, shading his eyes against the bright midday sun. Buttoning his vest, he stood on the sidewalk for a few minutes as his eyes adjusted to the glare. Brilliant sunlight in a clear, blue sky, such a rare sunny day for
Pittsburgh
, he thought, wishing Lisa
were
with him. While he'd languished in that Godforsaken cell, recollections of her drove him crazy: her pretty face and soft voice, her gestures, all her endearing charms.

Thoughts crammed his mind as he wove his way among all the busy pedestrians, the clip-clop of horses echoing in his ears as carriages rumbled past. The vast expanse of the block-sized granite jail seemed to follow him, as if telling him he'd never escape. Stores and businesses lined both sides of the street, their grimy windows a reminder of the city's lifeblood--the manufacture of iron and steel.

Fueled with resolve, he hurried along the crowded street, determined to visit
Enright's
office, challenge him to release Lisa from her wretched marriage--something he should have done long ago. How could he consider himself a man when he'd left Lisa to face her problem alone, when he couldn't even confront this miserable excuse of a husband? He knew where
Enright's
office was, only a short walk away, on
Wood Street
. Several minutes later, he arrived at the grimy building.

"What brings you to my office,
Cardiff
?" William asked, stuffing papers into his satchel. "I'm in a hurry. Have to catch the train to
San Francisco
."

Owen faced him across the desk in William's office. "What I have to say will take only a minute." He gave him a long, steady look. "I want to marry your wife, and--"

"So you're the man who's been screwing my
wi
–
“

Owen grabbed him by the collar. “You insult Lisa one more time and I’ll wring your goddamned neck.” He shook him,
then
pushed him away, as if he were a loathsome creature. A stricken expression on his face, William banged up against his desk,
then
scurried behind it.

 
His face red, his eyes burning with hatred, William breathed hard and straightened his collar. “Who the hell do you think you are?” He spoke with false bravado, his hands shaking as they flitted between his tie and his watch chain.
“You, a steelworker!”

“I’m the man who loves Lisa, and you will not besmirch her name,” Owen persisted. “She is chaste. There has been nothing between us. Why keep your wife tied to you when the marriage means less than nothing to either of you? Grant her a divorce so I can marry her."

William smirked, having obviously regained his composure. "What! And give Lisa the satisfaction of getting what she wants? She's my wife,
Cardiff
, and I don't intend to let her go."

Owen clenched his fists, his heart thudding. "So you'd rather keep her in a miserable marriage where you're both unhappy than let her find happiness with someone else?"

"She suits my purposes,
Cardiff
. She's staying with me." William snapped his satchel shut and headed for the door, his words sharp and cutting. "She'll stay married to me for the rest of her life."

* * *

On a hot, humid Sunday morning, Anton opened his eyes, aware he and Emma could no longer exist on the small amount the Amalgamated gave him. And the two dollars a week Emma earned as Owen Cardiff's part-time housekeeper?
Hardly enough to matter.
So, it was back to work for him . . . if he could get a job. He sniffed appreciatively at the aroma of coffee, his growling stomach reminding him it had been weeks since he'd eaten a filling meal.

Bleary-eyed in bed, he stretched his legs as his wife set cups on the table and poured the steaming coffee. His stomach growled again as he swung his legs out of bed to join her at the table.
Jesu
!
That brew smelled good, and never mind
that it wasn't freshly-made. He shuffled to the table and pulled out a chair with his bare foot, then slumped down. As Emma joined him, he placed his hand atop hers.

"
Mila
moja
, I intend to go back to work, to the open hearth, if I can get my old job back.” Eyeing her for a few tense seconds, he raised his cup to his mouth, wincing as the fiery liquid touched his lips.

Emma remained silent, her fingers making aimless circles on the table.

"You don't approve of my decision, do you?" He rushed on. "I hate to go against the wishes of the Amalgamated, but I have no choice. How can we live--?"

"Anton, you do what you must. No one can blame you for that." She ran her fingers over the back of his hand, a look of tenderness on her face.

"You don't mind? You won't think less of me as a man?" His face warming, he turned his head away.

"Think less of you as a man! Dear
love,
how could I? It's your decision. God knows, we're barely living on one full meal a day and anything I can scrape up for breakfast." She laughed without humor. "Just look at us!
Skinny as skeletons."
She clasped his hand. "You know what's best."

He blew on the coffee and took another sip. "That bastard Frick has been hiring hundreds of workers. I wanted to be loyal to the union.
Devil take
me! I
have
been loyal, but loyalty won't put food in our bellies.
Za
chelbom
.
Can't buy bread if I don't have a job."

He banged his fist on the table. "Holy Mother! How much longer can we live like animals? We can't go on like this. If that Frick," he said, thumbing his nose, "is going to hire more workers--and I know he will--then I'd better see about getting a job before they're all gone." He grabbed a slice of dry bread and bit into it. "Let's hope I can return to my old job at the open hearth."

"
Ach,
ja
!
Better work for you, more money for us."

Anton chewed on the bread, his mind working. "How much longer does Mr. Cardiff think the strike will last? Did you get a chance to ask him before he went to jail?"

She pressed a hand to her forehead. "He thinks the union can hold out for a long time." She sighed. "Maybe the union can, but we can't." Emma met his look, her eyes full of faith and understanding. "
Clovek
musi
pracovat
,
aby
sa
citil
clovekom
.
"

Anton breathed a long sigh of relief.
"Agreed.
How can a man feel like a man if he doesn't have a job?
Very well, then.
I'll go see the superintendent first thing tomorrow."

* * *

Lisa slipped out of bed, her week-old confrontation with William a constant torment. Painful memories would gain her nothing, she told herself as she hurried to dress.
Far better to move on, solve her problems.
She'd been too busy to see the manager of the jewelry store, but she intended to accomplish that matter soon. Another thing, much more important--she decided to sell her mother's house on
Amberson
Avenue
, using the money to buy a house for Owen and her. Why hadn't she heard from Owen?
she
agonized. No letter, no message of any kind. She'd read in the paper that the strikers would be released from jail any day now. How could she bear the wait, to see him again, hold him close to her heart?

Drawing her nightgown off, she perched on the bed and eased her silk stockings up her legs, her mind working furiously. Was it within the law for a woman to sell her house without her husband's permission?
she
wondered as she slipped into her undergarments. Probably not, but she vowed nothing would stop her from selling the house, and surely
Lawrence
could help her overcome the legalities of the transaction.

She grabbed her brown velveteen dress from the closet and finished dressing, in a hurry to face the day's tasks.

Lisa met her housekeeper in the dining room, where the brilliant sunlight streamed through the window, sterling silver sparkling on a snowy white damask tablecloth.

Mrs. Gilmore looked up. "Ah, Mrs.
Enright
, let me fetch your breakfast."

Lisa suppressed a yawn as she eased a chair out.
"Just tea and toast."
She placed a napkin in her lap. "How long ago did Mr.
Enright
leave for his office?"

The woman paused. "Mrs.
Enright
, I fear you've forgotten. Mr.
Enright
left for
San Francisco
. He said he'd be away for quite some time."

"
San Francisco
!" Lisa quickly recovered. "Oh, yes. He mentioned planning his trip a few days ago."
Another lie.
He'd never said a word to her, but why should she complain?