It Happened at the Fair (46 page)

Stunned, Della widened her eyes. “But, how—”

A knock interrupted her.

Turning toward the open door, Cullen accepted a tray from Miss Zonderkop. “That will be all for tonight. Thank you for staying late.”

She curtseyed again, her cheeks pink, then skittered away.

Cullen set the tray on one of the tables, closed the thick wooden door, and secured the latch. The sound of the lock sliding into place made her stomach jump.

She never expected a bridal suite, and certainly not one inside the gates of the fair. She couldn’t imagine the trouble he must have gone to.

“Would you like some cocoa?” His brown eyes were warm, patient.

A wave of shyness spilled over her. “Please.”

He settled her into one of the armless dining chairs in front of the fire, then brought a cup of hot chocolate to her. She held the mug with both hands, finding comfort in its warmth and familiar smell.

“Are you hungry?” he asked. “There are some fritters.”

She shook her head, unsure if she’d be able to eat. “The cocoa is perfect.”

He moved his chair next to hers, leaving the table on her left, then retrieved his cup and joined her. “It feels good to sit down.”

“It does.” She covered one toe of her shoe with the other.

Finishing his cup, he reached across her to set it on the table, then angled himself toward her. She took another sip, trying not to squirm under his scrutiny.

With a great deal of gentleness, he gathered the wisps of hair tickling her collar and brushed his fingers along her neck. “Would you mind if I took your hat off? I’d like to see your eyes without the netting in front of them.”

She started to set down her cup, but he stalled her.

“I’ll do it.” Searching the trim, he found her hat pin and drew it out.

“There’s another in the back.” She tucked her chin down.

He removed that one too, then placed the hat and pins next to his feet. Tracing the lip of her cup with her finger, she kept her head down.

He rubbed her neck.

Her body relaxed, her eyes sliding shut. “That feels wonderful.”

He said nothing but continued to rub with one hand while tugging her hairpins free with the other. Bit by bit, strands of hair spilled free, forming a curtain around her.

He lifted a strand to his nose. “Heaven,” he whispered.

Tingles shot throughout her body. She raised her face.

He tunneled his fingers into her hair, dislodging the last of the hairpins, then leaned in and kissed her as he’d done in the gondola and many times since.

She gripped her cup, wishing her hands were free. The longer he kissed, the limper she became.

He pulled away. “I’m so glad you’re my wife.” He started to descend again.

“My cup . . . it’s—”

Taking the mug from her hands, he reached across her and set it next to his. Before he could straighten, she captured him within her arms.

He slid her from her chair and onto his lap, his kisses becoming more ardent. His hands were everywhere. Each place he touched sent new sensations ricocheting through her.

She curled her legs up, trying to get closer. Her skirts fell across his knees and his hand found her stockings.

Stiffening, she broke their kiss.

He searched her eyes, but left his hand where it was.

Her heart thrummed.

Hooking a finger through her garter, he whisked it off, his knuckle running the full course of her leg. Then with slow, careful strokes, he rolled her stocking down over her knee and to her ankle. Blindly, he unlaced her shoe and let it drop to the floor with a thunk. The stocking followed. His hand gripped the arch of her foot and retraced its previous path.

She held her breath. Her stomach squeezed.

“Will you be my wife?” His voice was hoarse, gravelly.

Love for him overflowed from inside. “Yes. For the rest of our lives, yes.”

His eyes darkened. Placing a soft kiss on her forehead, he scooped her up and carried her to the bedchamber.

Epilogue

Two Years Later

Cullen slipped into the back of a classroom in McNamara’s School for the Deaf. Though there wasn’t a lot of noise, there was certainly a lot of chatter. Standing to the right of a fireman in full uniform, a volunteer parent signed while he spoke.

At the moment, the children were marveling at the big ax he carried and signed among themselves in their excitement.

“Who’d like to try on my helmet?” he asked.

All thirty hands shot into the air.

“What about you, young lady?” He pointed to a girl in the second row.

Jumping to her feet, Kitty scurried to the front, her wild hair tamed with braids.

“And what’s your name?” the fireman asked.

“Kitty Kruger.” Her voice was nasal but easily understandable.

At the back of the room, Della squatted to remind two of the students to quit “talking” and pay attention to the presentation on the dangers of fire.

Her light brown hair was silky and in a soft twist. Her neck, long and slender.

She stood. Up, up, up she went. Her green skirt and white shirtwaist showed off a slender figure with curves in all the places they should be.

Creeping up behind her, Cullen poked her in the waist.

Squeaking, she whirled around.

Mrs. Anderson and the fireman glanced at them, but none of the students heard.

Della shooed him out the door and followed him into the hall. “When did you get back?”

“Just now.” Hooking an arm around her waist, he pulled her close.

She swatted at him. “Stop that. What if one of the students comes out?”

“Then they’ll know that being hard of hearing doesn’t mean they can’t live a full and rewarding life.”

“But I’m the director. And I—”

He leaned in for a kiss, but he had no wish to be caught either, so he kept it short. “Did you miss me?”

“You know I did. How did it go?”

Smiling, he let her go, took a step back and spread his arms wide. “You are now looking at a charter member of the National Fire Protection Association.”

She brought her hands together in a clasp. “It happened?”

“It happened. The other members are Vaughn and four more insurance men.”

“Congratulations.” Taking his hand, she squeezed it. “Did you cable your father?”

“I did. He and Alice sent congratulations and a special hello to you.”

“What did the association think of your new glass-disc sprinkler?” She spoke and signed at the same time to make sure he heard.

“They loved it and agreed it would eliminate the problem of built-up dirt clogging the system. But they brought up something else I want to look into.”

“What’s that?”

“An automatic fire alarm system. I need to figure out a way for the fire to trigger some chimes or bells and alert anyone in the building of the danger.”

She propped her fists on her hips. “I thought these glass discs perfected the system.”

“They perfected the part that puts out the fire. The chimes will be an added feature.”

Shaking her head, she looped her arm around his. “Well, I’m glad you’re home. Were you able to make it through the meetings without too much trouble?”

“More or less.” They walked down the corridor toward the front of the building and her office. His hearing loss had leveled out over the past year, but Machinery Hall had taken its toll. He was completely deaf in his right ear. “I could definitely use some more practice. One of the men had an accent. Those are always hard to read.”

“What kind was it? Perhaps I should start speaking with an accent.”

“I have a better idea.” He veered toward the broom closet, opened the door, and nudged her inside.

“What are you doing?” she whispered, her tone a bit frantic.

Closing the door behind them, he gathered her into his arms, her rose water mixing with the closet’s smell of lemon and vinegar.

“What do you think I’m doing?” he murmured, as his mouth descended. “I’m practicing my lip-reading.”

PERISTYLE DESTROYED

“The fair’s buildings were burned to the ground the following year by union members involved in the Pullman strike. Only the Art Building survives today.”

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Now it’s confession time. Though I did extensive research and depicted things as accurately as I could, I did take a bit of creative license here and there. To help you discern between fact and fiction, here’s a summary.

All characters in the book are fictional other than historical figures, such as President Cleveland, Alexander Graham Bell, Helen Keller, Ann Sullivan, Fire Marshal Murphy, and Miss Garrett (the director of the school for the deaf). I obviously put fictional words in the mouths of all but Cleveland. His dialogue was taken from excerpts of his actual speech.

When I started my research on the Chicago World’s Fair, I had no idea how comprehensive the resources were, how much I’d fall in love with it, and how important the fair was to our country. It set our standard for architecture in the upcoming century; it introduced foreign cultures to our amazed population; it wowed the world with our scientific innovations; and it gave women their first official board position recognized and approved by an act of Congress (all before we had the right to vote). But it was technology that claimed the day as it nipped at the heels of horses, buggies, and man-powered tools. I wish I could have camped on all that, but this novel is character driven rather than information driven. So you’ll have to go uncover those delicious details from more scholarly sources.

The opening ceremony was based on fact—the size and crush of the crowd, the trampling at the front and all its ripple effects, the description of what happened when Cleveland pushed the button, and the carrying of a woman over the heads of three muscular men (though I don’t know the nationality of the men, nor who the woman was). When I read that account, however, I immediately knew how Cullen and Della would meet. It was just too much fun to pass up. It was also a bit over the top (no pun intended)—so much so that I made up Della’s hurt ankle to justify her being carried above the men’s heads. I am also the one who made Cleveland see them, though I’d bet money that in real life he probably did.

I took a ton of creative license with the time line of the fair. The only dates I didn’t touch were opening day (May 1, 1893), the Cold Storage fire (July 10, 1893), and closing day (October 31, 1893). Everything else I tweaked to accommodate the needs of my story line. For those who are curious, here are some of the more blatant events I flip-flopped around.

The fair wasn’t completely built nor were all exhibits installed until mid-June. In this book, that’s not the case. For example, one report had the water fountains working on opening day; numerous others said they weren’t. I wanted you to “see” the fountains, so I have them working on opening day. The Children’s Building wasn’t finished until June 2nd; I have it open in May. The Ferris wheel wasn’t finished until June 21; in all my descriptions, it is in full operation regardless of the date. The illumination show started running at the beginning of May; I have it beginning in August. Cullen borrows wood from the Lincoln Hotel’s fire in September, but that fire actually occurred a couple of days before the Cold Storage fire in July. Fireman’s Week (the contest) was the last week in August; I have it toward the end of September. See what I mean? So, don’t trust the time line.