Mackinnons #02 For All the Right Reasons (50 page)

Adrian nodded at Alex and blew Katherine a kiss before turning away. But all Katherine could think of was that she had been abandoned and trapped.

“Don’t be angry with Adrian. He’s…”

“I’m not angry with Adrian. Strangely enough, I’m not even angry with you. I just don’t care anymore.”

Alex winced. He knew what Katherine had been through, and he knew it had been his fault. But that was behind them now. He had something more important to tell her, something she had waited a long time to hear him say. “You care,” he said, “because you’re not the kind of woman to ever stop caring, no matter what.”

“And you
know
all about women, don’t you?” Her laugh was forced and cynical. “I don’t know why that surprises me.”

“Listen, love, I know what’s going through your mind right now. I understand you better than you think I do.”

“You couldn’t understand me too well, or else you wouldn’t have put me through all the things you did.”

“I know that now. And I’m sorry for what’s happened, for the things I’ve done. But it’s not too late, Katherine.”

“But it is,” she said, her voice shaking. She wrestled for control, vowing she wouldn’t crumble before him, that he would never see just how deep the hurt went.

“No, it isn’t. We’ve got too much to work for.”

“We have nothing! We never did, save friendship. And now, we don’t even have that.”

“What about love?”

“
Love?
” she said with contempt. “You never loved me.”

“But I do now,” he said softly.

“Liar!” she said, springing to her feet, not even caring that her voice had been high pitched and loud, drawing every eye in the silent room.

He remained calmly seated. “Whether you choose to believe it or not, it’s the truth.”

“Truth!” she said. “Truth is something you tell when it serves you and withhold when it doesn’t.”

“Katherine, don’t go, don’t…”

She turned away and he grabbed her arm. “Take your hands off me,” she said. He didn’t, so she picked up his glass and threw it in his face. He released her and sprang to his feet. A unified gasp went up around the room. While Alex wiped his clothes and sputtered, she gave him her retreating back.

Furious, Alex followed her. She reached her room just ahead of him and slammed the door in his face.

He banged on the door, shouting her name. “Katherine? Open this door, dammit!”

“When you grow hair on your eyeballs!”

“You heard me, open this damn door, or I’ll kick it in.”

“Go ahead. I’ll request another room. This hotel has four hundred rooms, Alex. You can’t kick all the doors in.”

“I damn well can try.”

“Good night, Alex.”

“Goddammit! I’m warning you!”

“Thank you.”

“Katherine, why won’t you open this door?”

The door opened. A crumpled piece of paper came sailing through, hitting him in the face, then falling to the floor. The door slammed again. Alex sighed and ran his fingers through his wet hair. He bent down and picked up the crumpled piece of paper.

It was the note he had written to Karin.

He put the note in his pocket and turned slowly away. He was thinking how much he had to make up for. He had told her he loved her, but she didn’t believe him. He had to tell her again, and soon. He had to make her believe him this time.
Tomorrow
, he told himself.
Tomorrow, or the day after. Whenever she cools down
. He glanced back at her door. He would give her time to rest. Then he would tell her. She couldn’t stay mad at him forever. There would be another opportunity, another time.

But time was the one thing Alex did not have.

The next morning she walked with Adrian along a winding street that went up one hill and down the other. Adrian was busily explaining the performance of a long-anticipated saw that would increase their production by twenty thousand feet of wood per day, when Katherine was suddenly aware of how she wished it were Adrian she had fallen in love with, Adrian she had married.

As they walked back to the hotel, they crossed Portsmouth Square, where the infamous gambling houses like Bella Union and El Dorado were located. An iron fence with lampposts circled the square, protecting the newly planted trees, for the streets were crowded with horses, parked wagons, and buggies. Gambling, Adrian remarked to Katherine, was a favorite pastime with men in these parts.

“That must include Alex,” she said, and Adrian followed the direction of Katherine’s look to see Alex walk out of the El Dorado as they crossed the street in front of the Verandah Drug Store. He didn’t see them, but turned up the street, walking toward the hotel. Katherine tried to keep her mind on other things, not wanting to give over to despair, so she began taking in the sights of the city around her. Something about it was strange now. San Francisco didn’t seem quite as glamorous or exciting as it had a few short months ago when she had arrived.

Walking briskly up the street they passed one gaming house after another, some with exotic names like Mazourka, Varsou-vienne, La Souciedad, Alhambra, while others had names as plain as potato peelings—Parker House, Denison’s Exchange, Fontine House.

The doors to one gaming house opened and a Chinese man was shoved into the street. Anticipating her question, Adrian said, “Most of the houses don’t like the Celestials—that’s what they call the Chinese—playing in them. They’ve got their own gaming houses over on Sacramento and Dupont streets. They have their own games, one of which is called
fan-tan
, and before you ask,” he said, laughing, “I don’t have even a glimmer of an idea how it’s played. That can be a question you save for Wong.”

A quick look down the east side of Dupont Street affirmed what Adrian said. Chinese men were everywhere, all neatly dressed in baggy black trousers and tops, white socks, black slippers, hats, and long, long braids. They were cleaner and better behaved than the miners and lumberjacks who were welcomed in the Portsmouth Square houses. There were some things that Katherine did not understand. This was one of them.

Adrian was enjoying this time alone with her. For so long he had been worried about her health that it was a pleasure to see her cheeks rosy from exercise, her eyes bright with excitement. Her clothes were dreadfully loose, but her eyes were as green as seawater and her hair as bright as a new penny. He had a feeling more changes in Katherine lay beneath the surface. He knew she would speak of them when the time was right for her and no amount of coaxing and prodding would move her to do so any sooner than that.

They stepped out into the shaded street, a cooler breeze blowing up from the water. Katherine shivered and drew her cape higher over her shoulders. A few days out of bed had not prepared her for the enormous drain of energy that came with a walk down San Francisco streets. Her steps slower now, Katherine felt the strain on her body. It made no difference now, but her heart thudded when she looked up the street, seeing Alex just ahead of them, his head towering over the shorter men about him. She wished she could go back to the days before she found the letter in his desk, to the days before she knew the secret and shame of what lay inside.

Her heart ached for him the same way it always had, but her mind offered no hope. Like a wise old grandmother, her head counseled a heart as young and green as a schoolgirl’s. She felt the stabbing barrenness of a womb that would never bear a child, the emptiness of breasts that would never suckle. Her heart grieved for the children she had known so well; children whose names she knew as well as her own—Caleb and Jude, Caroline and Juliana.

Adrian and Katherine caught up with Alex in front of the hotel. As Adrian called out to him and Alex turned, Katherine realized that her failure to make peace with her loss of Alex was draining her of energy and stamina she could not afford. She would have to leave him, leave San Francisco, and soon. A peace flowed through her. Not the peace that comes with getting the desire of one’s heart, but a peace that comes with making a decision.

Alex did not remove his gaze from her as they approached, but it was a look she could not read. She felt cold and stiff and a thousand years old, and it occurred to her suddenly how much she wanted to get away from San Francisco and Alex and everything she associated with the pain in her life. A year ago she had left her home and traveled hundreds of miles to become this man’s wife, an answer to a lifelong dream. She had taken his name, but not his heart. Strangely, none of it seemed to matter anymore. Perhaps that’s what growing old was, just a gradual easing into comfort, where you sought peace and ease above all else.

She stood frozen, waiting for the conversation between Alex and Adrian to end. Alex had met a man in the El Dorado to talk over the purchase of five more teams of Ayrshire oxen. Alex felt Ayrshires were the prime choice, while Adrian favored Durhams. But Alex convinced him that the Ayrshires being offered were valuable beasts—five pair of leaders for three hundred dollars a pair.

She found herself looking at Alex, seeing him in a different light. She loved him. But she could live without him. She felt suddenly free, as if some great weight had been taken from her shoulders. She found she was suddenly tired of trying to be everything to him. She had spent half of her life carrying the burden of unrequited love, giving so little time to herself. She found herself growing anxious to see the green fields of Limestone County, to count the spring calves and see the new additions to the family of beavers down at the creek. She wanted to feel the steamy warmth of Clovis’s sleek coat as she brushed it when the hired hand brought him in after a hard day’s plowing. She wanted to know the joy of watching a chick peck its way out of its shell and step out into a strange new world. She wanted to pull the weeds on her family’s graves and to pick peaches until her back ached. She wanted to wake up each morning and say, “Katherine, what do
you
want to do today?”

And by golly, she was going to. As Fanny Bright always said, “Men aren’t the cake, they’re just the icing; they aren’t the whole rooster, just the crow.”

Pleading exhaustion, she left Alex and Adrian in the lobby. Once she was in her room, Katherine leaned back against the door, feeling the tears flow freely down her cheeks. She had to get away from here now. For a moment she considered how weak she felt and wondered if she should wait a few more days.
No
. Then she wondered if she should confide in Adrian?
No. He’s as guilty in all of this as Alex. Neither one of them can be trusted. If you want anything done right, Katherine, take care of it yourself.
She had lived this long without having anyone to rely on. She didn’t need to start acting helpless now.
Change what you can change and make the most of what you can’t.
Wasn’t that what her mother always said?

Smart people, mothers were.

“This is the last time I’m doing this,” she said, packing the clothes she had purchased since coming to San Francisco. Remembering the lovely clothes as well as a few of her treasured belongings from home that she would be leaving behind at the camp at Humboldt Bay, she put a few more clothes into the valise and said, “If this keeps up I’ll have clothes strung from one side of the United States to the other.” She was still complaining when she sat down to fan herself after wrestling the lid closed.

After her irritation had settled somewhat, she dumped her reticule out and counted her money. Counting the money Alex had given her to buy some more clothes, she had three hundred dollars. Hopefully she could get some kind of accommodations on a ship heading for Texas. If not, she’d go as far as the money would take her, for she still intended to leave San Francisco. But she would make the arrangements herself.

Cervantes may have said, “Heaven’s help is better than early rising,” but as for her, Katherine decided to try both. That night she prayed her heart out, earnestly seeking God’s guidance and help, and come the next morning, she was up before daybreak.

One thing about luck, she discovered, is that it’s always changing. Take yesterday, for instance. She wouldn’t have given a plugged nickel for her luck then, but today? Well, today was a different matter. Today her luck had definitely changed, and for the better, for wasn’t that Captain Steptoe’s ship five spaces down on the list and scheduled to sail today?

Captain Steptoe was as surprised to see Katherine as she was to find his ship in port. “Well, bless my bones, if it isn’t Mrs. Mackinnon. How’s married life?”

“Let’s just say that if it was something I ate, I’d be retching right now.”

Captain Steptoe had never been known to show surprise at anything he saw or heard, and yet, here he was raising his bushy brows a good inch at Katherine’s remark, his mouth curving into a good-natured smile. “Here now,” he said, taking her arm and walking her on board, “it can’t be as bad as all that. Why don’t we have a cup of tea in my cabin and talk things over.”

“The only thing I want to talk over is buying passage on your ship.”

“Where are you headed for?” he asked.

“Where are you going?” she replied.

“New Orleans.”

“That’ll do,” she said.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Clarabelle Dudley and Jemima Tidwell were both in Draper’s Dry Goods when the hack from Waco pulled up in front of the Groesbeck Hotel. Clarabelle, who was dressed up like a country bride, stood with a bolt of blue calico in her arms. When she heard the hack, she hurried to the front window, calling for Jemima to “Come over here and get an eyeful of this!” which Jemima did with a burst of fervor.

“Well, I do declare! Will you look at that!” Jemima said. “What do you suppose
she’s
doing back here?”

“Come back home is what it looks like to me,” Clarabelle said, giving Jemima a sly look, “but the question is, why? Didn’t that Mackinnon boy marry her?”

“Maybe he
wouldn’t
marry her.” Jemima crowded closer to the window, trying to push the bolt of blue calico aside so she could get a better look. “Does she look in a family way?”