The Bridegrooms (10 page)

“That’s beautiful,” Vada said when the last note—such as it was—faded away. Her mind scrambled for a translation. “What does
fais do do
mean?”

He smiled that crescent smile and stood, crushing his cap in his hands. “It mean, ‘go to sleep.’ I singin’ ‘go to sleep, little brother.’ But I guess that don’ make much sense, singin’ such to a man already sleepin’. But it what my
maman
sang to me many a night, and it just seem—”

“It’s beautiful,” Vada repeated. “And that line about the moon.”

“Ah, that.” He took a step closer, ostensibly toward the door, though she stood in his path. “The moon love you.”

“Yes.” If she’d taken one more step back, she wouldn’t be this close to him now, wouldn’t be smelling the scent of sweet grass on his shirt or noticing the single dark freckle on his earlobe.

“Et moi la même.”

“And so do I,” Vada said, translating.

“You
parlez bon français
?”

“Oh, I don’t speak it as well as I understand. Besides, it’s a simple song.”

“Did your
maman
sing such simple songs to you?” Mr. LaFortune asked.

All that had been flowing warm and loose within her froze and grew tight in her throat. “No. Not since I was very, very little. I suppose I outgrew such things.”

“
Pah!
How do a child outgrow a lullaby?”

“That’s easy, Mr. LaFortune.” She placed one foot behind her, and the rest of her body followed suit until she could freely breathe the air of the open hallway. “When she’s forced to start singing them.”

It was Molly Keegan who decided that the first course of action to be taken with the comatose spectator was to strip him of his tattered clothing and bathe him the best they could.

“No matter what happens,” she said, filling a clean bucket with boiling water from the kettle. “If he wakes up, he’s not bearin’ the shame of such filth. And, Lord forbid, if ‘twere to go the other way, it’s a clean soul we’re sendin’ to meet Saint Peter at the gate.”

Hazel, Lisette, and Vada all sat at the kitchen table, where the two older sisters peeled and sliced potatoes for that night’s beef stew, and Lisette, at Vada’s insistence, read the second act of William Shakespeare’s
The Tempest
to make up for having missed that day’s lesson at school.

“You’d better check with Doc,” Vada cautioned, wishing somebody would have thought to do so before soiling her pretty bedclothes with this stranger. “We might need to be careful in how we treat him.”

“Ach.”
Molly made a guttural noise at the back of her throat and slammed the empty teakettle back on the stove. “Not enough now I have the four princesses to see to, I’m takin’ on the care of foreign invalids.”

The kitchen had a door leading down to the doctor’s office, and Doc had warned Molly several times not to disturb him during his working hours with household questions. Still, without hesitation, Molly flung it open and stared down the dark staircase before turning to Hazel. “You. Run downstairs and see what your father has to say.”

Hazel, who hadn’t said more than two words since leaving Vada and Garrison at the corner, set down her knife and wiped her hands. Once the sound of her footsteps faded, Molly took her place and began digging out potato eyes.

“Now tell me, Miss Vada. What’s gotten into that one? She hasn’t been the same since you got home from your mysterious outin’.”

Vada shifted her gaze to Lisette, whose mouth silently twisted around the words of the Bard. “Lissy, why don’t you take your homework upstairs to your room? It’s much quieter up there.”

Lisette wrinkled her nose. “It’s
too
quiet, if you ask me. And what if that guy,” she looked from side to side before leaning over the table to whisper, “
dies
? And it’s just the two of us up there?” She shuddered. “No, thank you.”

Vada sighed. “It’s nothing.” She returned to the task at hand, managing to peel off one long, curling piece of skin while leaving much of the potato itself intact. “Hazel and I just thought it would be fun to have lunch at some fancy place downtown, and it was…well…awkward.”

“And why wouldn’t it be? What business do ya have goin’ to some stranger’s kitchen when you can get the best of all cookin’ right here in your own home?”

“Oh yes.” Lisette’s voice was primed for sarcasm. “Beef stew. Quite the culinary accomplishment.”

“That’s enough with you.” Molly gestured with the knife, a small chunk of potato clinging to its tip. “I’ll have you know I had something a wee bit grander planned before those ones come trampin’ in with Sleepin’ Beauty upstairs.”

“Speaking of which,” Vada said, grateful for the change in subject, “do we have any idea what his name is? Did he have any sort of identification?”

“Sure’n I’d be the last to know if he did,” Molly huffed.

“Perhaps we’ll have to go through his pockets later, when we,” Vada shot another cautionary glance toward her youngest sister and mouthed,
undress him
.

“I’m not an idiot.” Lisette had resumed reading her page. “And there’s no need to worry—I can’t imagine anything more disgusting than looking at that man naked. So you both feel free to keep the bathing party all to yourselves.”

Molly and Vada laughed as the last of the potatoes were peeled and the skins scooped into a bowl to be taken out later to compost the garden. Molly then set aside the paring knife in favor of her large butcher knife and began turning each potato into bite-sized chunks with just one or two decisive blows.

Lisette, not taking her eyes off her book, held out an open hand, and Vada knew exactly what to do. She snatched a potato from Molly’s un-chopped pile and cut it in half, lengthwise, then trimmed the rounded side off, leaving her a full-length flat slice.

She took the saltshaker from the middle of the table and shook a generous amount onto the glistening white potato slice and wordlessly dropped it into Lissy’s outstretched hand. Soon the only sounds in the kitchen were those of Molly’s knife, Lisette’s crunch, and Vada’s fingers drumming on the heavy wooden table. Soon added to that were Hazel’s footsteps.

“Doc says it’s fine.” She reached over Molly’s shoulder, grabbed a chunk of potato, and salted it for herself. “And he wrote up a list of things we’ll need to get for…him.”

“Let me see.” Vada took the scrap of paper from Hazel’s hand and squinted, trying to better focus on her father’s scrawl. “Two yards thick cotton batting and
three
waxed sheets? Why three?”

“If it turns out he lasts more’n a day, don’t want him soakin’ up the mattress.”

“Oh, my.” Vada shook her head, trying to dispel the image. She refrained from asking the purpose of a sea sponge and cornstarch. “Hazel, why don’t you and Lissy go right now and get these things so you can be back by the time Molly and I have him ready.” She reached for Hazel’s hand and ignored Molly’s scowl when Hazel flinched at her touch.

“Why do I have to go?” Lisette licked the salt from her fingers. “I’ll never get my homework done.”

“Not at the rate you’re going. You’ve been on the same page for thirty minutes.”

“Come on, Lissy.” The tender tone in Hazel’s voice clutched at Vada’s own heart. “We can get an egg cream at the drugstore.”

“Don’t you be spoilin’ your dinner, now.” Molly got up from the table and dropped the sliced potatoes into the pot of simmering water, heedless of the splashes that sizzled on the stove. “Though you might stop by Moravek’s and get a cream cake for dessert. It’s a hard day we’ve had, and I think we’re due a little sweetnin’.”

“I’ll go get my hat.”

Vada watched Hazel walk out of the kitchen, noticing she’d changed back into her own wide, sensible shoes. Vada wanted to take time to warn her not to say anything to Lisette or Althea or anybody about their lunch with Alex Triplehorn, but the sadness that emanated even from her slumped shoulders told a story that Hazel had chosen to keep buried deep inside. At least for now. And if nothing else, the young man upstairs was proving to be a welcome distraction.

“And you, littlest miss,” Molly said, busily crumbling herbs into her stew, “take them peelin’s out to the compost heap.”

“Can’t Vada do it?”

“Vada’s got her own unpleasant chore waitin’. Now go ’fore your sister gets back downstairs.”

Lisette sighed and pushed herself away from the table. She somehow managed to hold the bowl of peelings with just two fingers, the others distended in a dainty display of distaste. Holding the bowl as far away from her as possible, she opened the door leading out to the backyard.

Then came the commotion—Lisette’s high-pitched scream, the clattering of the bowl, the scattering of the peelings, and the boy in the Spider uniform falling into the kitchen.

Vada jumped up from her seat and was standing by her sister’s side before the bowl came to a spinning stop on the floor.

The poor Spider, looking equally confused and embarrassed, immediately began to scoop up the peelings to put them back in the bowl.

“I’m dreadful sorry, Miss Allenhouse.” He acknowledged Vada, then Lisette. “Miss Allenhouse.” He looked over his shoulder and up at the looming Molly Keegan and began scraping up the peels a little faster.

When the last one had been dug up from between the floor boards, he brought himself unsteadily to his feet and raked the dark curly hair away from his face, leaving behind a tiny bit of peel in the process.

To Vada’s horror, Lisette reached out and plucked the peel straight from the boy’s hair and shook her hand, sending it fluttering back into the bowl. “Just what were you doing out there?”

“I couldn’t leave. I couldn’t go not knowing if he… How is he?”

“He hasn’t woken yet,” Vada said gently. Something about the boy touched her; everything about him seemed hungry. “Perhaps you’d like to stay for supper, Mr.…”

“Cupid.” He extended a hand, looked at it, wiped it on his pants, then extended it again.

Lisette snickered. “Cupid? Honestly. Of all the—”

He stumbled over his words to answer. “No, honestly. I mean, yes, that’s my honest name. Kenny Cupid. Sometimes they just call me Kid,
’cause I’m so young. Well, not that young. Almost twenty. But I’m not one of these guys that gets the slick nicknames. Which is a good thing, I guess, since
cupid
rhymes with—”

“Stupid?”

“Lisette Allenhouse! How could you be so rude?” Vada turned to Kenny. “I do apologize for my younger sister. Sometimes she is just terrible.”

“Like she’s taken over by the devil himself.” Molly spoke over her shoulder, having turned back to her stew.

“Ah yes.” The way Kenny looked at Lisette was nothing short of longing. “But wasn’t Lucifer the fairest of the angels?”

Lisette rolled her eyes. “I don’t have to stand here and take this, you know.” She pointed through the open door out into the yard. “And you can take that right out to the compost pile. It’s a big heap of stinky, festering trash. So you should have no trouble finding it.” She spun on her heel and flounced out of the kitchen.

His eyes never left her, even staying transfixed on the swinging door she left behind. “She’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.”

“Don’t be fooled by that pretty face,” Vada warned. “This isn’t even her worst behavior.”

He dropped his gaze to stare longingly into the potato peelings. “I guess it wouldn’t be a good idea for me to come to supper after all, then.”

Molly slammed the lid on the pot. “I’ll be decidin’ who stays to dinner and who doesn’t. Now,” she approached, wiping her hands on her apron, “you take those out to the yard, then pick up this bucket an’ the kettle an’ meet me upstairs to help wash up the man. You’ll be sparin’ Miss Vada here the chore no young woman should see.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“An’ do ya have a decent shirt to put on?”

“Not with me, ma’am. But this one’s clean.”

“Then it’ll have to do.” Molly stepped into the mud room briefly to retrieve a large washtub, then made her way to the back steps.

“Don’t be afraid of Molly,” Vada said.

He looked up, and for the first time, she saw a certain light in his eyes.

“Don’t worry about me, Miss Allenhouse. I haven’t met a fear I couldn’t conquer yet.”

Relieved to be free of the responsibility of bathing the patient, Vada met up with her sisters at the front door with a hastily scribbled note. “While you’re out, will you stop by the theater and give this to Herr Johann? I want him to know that I won’t be coming in this afternoon or this evening for rehearsal.”

Hazel put the final pin in her hat and took the note. “We’ll be back in an hour.”

Vada stood in the empty entryway, unsure exactly what to do, when Molly clumped her way through saying, “An’ look at the mess they’ve made down here. I feel I’ve lived three lives this very day.” She held a length of clumsily folded waterproof tarp under one arm and still carried the empty washtub. The young Kenny Cupid followed close behind, carrying the steaming kettle.

“Are you sure you don’t need my help?” Vada called up after them.

“’Tis not a fit job for a lady.” Molly’s words were no fainter at the top of the stairs than they’d been at the bottom.

Vada escaped to the parlor and slumped into the nearest chair. In truth, nothing she’d done today was fit for a lady. Sneaking off to lunch with a stranger, confronting her mother’s sordid past, kissing Garrison on the corner in the middle of the day. Touching Louis LaFortune.

She sank further into the chair and clutched her own arms at the thought of it. Noticing how thin they were brought forth the memory of
the thick strength of the Bridegroom’s biceps. The sound of his lilting, playful accent kept time with the ticking of the mantel clock, and soon her feet were tapping and she was humming the little tune he’d whispered in the ear of the wounded man before they left the room.

Who knew a man could have such a big heart
and
such broad shoulders? Why, he’d nearly been in tears at the bedside. She’d never seen Garrison—

Garrison.

She jumped up and looked around, as if anybody walking into the room might have been privy to the ideas swimming around in her head. Gracious,
she
didn’t even want to acknowledge them. What kind of a woman would entertain such thoughts when she had the affections of a warm, generous man such as Garrison? Why, they had an understanding. Practically engaged. They’d declared their love for each other, and sometimes—quite often, actually—Garrison’s kiss was almost as thrilling as what she imagined a kiss from Louis LaFortune would be.