Westward the Dream (23 page)

“I've danced only with him,” Victoria said. “That was why I came over here. I thought I had better find Kiernan.”

Anna laughed. “You sound worried. Has there been some problem?”

Victoria didn't quite know how to express what she was feeling. Christopher Thorndike made her feel most uncomfortable, but he'd not truly overstepped any proper bounds—except that he'd monopolized her dance time.

“There's no real problem. I suppose I'm just disappointed that Kiernan has deserted me without so much as a word.”

Anna smiled. “Go and have fun. The men will wrap up their business and join us before you know it.”

Victoria nodded and felt rather like a lamb being led to the slaughter. Thorndike disturbed her in a way she couldn't explain. Without Anna or Kiernan at her side, she knew she'd be open game for this stranger.

Moving in the opposite direction of Thorndike, Victoria tried to rationalize her fears. She found the man attractive; that much she couldn't deny. And the fact that he talked to her and questioned her about her life and showed a definite interest in her answers made Victoria feel special.

Biting her lip, Victoria glanced up to see the dark stranger slip away into the crowd. She let out her breath, not even realizing she'd been holding it. Maybe it was nothing more than the man's similarity to Blake St. John. That part of her life was such an enigma. She had been born to one man and woman, then given over to another. Her mother had died shortly after her birth, and her father had hired a nanny to care for her. That nanny turned out to be the woman who would become her new mother. Carolina Adams had married Blake St. John for the sole purpose of giving Victoria a mother. St. John had died not long after this platonic arrangement, leaving Carolina and Victoria free to seek whatever life they chose. Carolina had then married James Baldwin, and it was James, not St. John, whom Victoria thought of when she spoke the word “father.”

“I don't suppose you would care to dance again” came the sound of Thorndike's voice.

Turning rather abruptly, Victoria found the man standing directly behind her once again. He had an uncanny way of sneaking up on her.

“I believe we've danced enough,” Victoria said, trying hard to keep her voice even.

“Perhaps some refreshments, then?” he questioned softly, seeming to sense her nervousness.

“Hmm,” Victoria replied, quickly looking away to see if anyone else was disturbed by her encounter. No one else appeared to even notice her standing there with the tall, dark-haired man. “I suppose some punch would be nice.”

“Then I shall be happy to bring you some,” he said, bowing before her. As he lifted his head his eyes met hers. “I'll only be a moment.”

Victoria felt silly as the butterflies played in her stomach. Why am I acting like this? I'm a married woman and I'm acting like a schoolgirl. She chewed at her lower lip and tried to think of some reason to tell Thorndike that she couldn't remain in his company. Such behavior might have caused a scandal in the East but was far less noticeable in the isolated West Coast society. A much more relaxed attitude existed here concerning the proper deportment of men and women.

She thought hard about why Christopher Thorndike caused her to feel so skittish. So far he'd only danced and talked with her. There was absolutely nothing wrong with the way they'd conducted themselves. Victoria took a deep breath and rationalized her behavior. I've done nothing in this man's company that I would be ashamed to have Kiernan see. I'm just being silly and nervous because this man has taken time to pay attention to me.

It was then that Victoria realized it was not only Thorndike's attention that was stirring her guilt but also her
enjoyment
of his attention. She liked that he asked her questions, then genuinely seemed to care about the answers.

“Here we are,” he said, returning with her cup of punch.

“Thank you,” Victoria barely whispered. Kiernan should have been the one to fetch her punch, not Thorndike. But Kiernan had taken himself away from her. Kiernan had made his choice for the evening, and it clearly wasn't Victoria. Her anger at this thought fueled her ability to overlook her feelings of guilt.

Sipping the cool, sweet liquid, Victoria decided to stop acting so silly. She smiled sweetly at Thorndike, having determined she was doing nothing wrong. She would talk and dance and enjoy her evening, and if Thorndike was the man to pay her attention throughout the process, then so be it.

“Might I talk you into another dance? I know you worry after your reputation, but I've already danced with two other women—both married, I might add—in the interim.”

Victoria laughed and put her cup down on the nearest table. “I suppose one more dance wouldn't hurt.”

Kiernan walked out of the smoky back room, determined to leave off with arguing points of interest on the Central Pacific. He thought their celebration premature and told them so. He could see no profitable way that Lincoln could stay with his decision to assign a five-foot gauge to the transcontinental railroad. And he told his companions just that. Of course, they didn't want to hear such nonsense. If Kiernan was right, it would require having to pull up miles and miles of track already in place. The cost would be oppressive.

Looking around for his wife, Kiernan was rather shocked when he spied a flash of apricot whirling by him. A woman wearing a gown similar to Victoria's laughed and danced in the arms of a lean, handsome man. It was only after giving the couple a second glance that Kiernan realized the woman was
his
wife. He watched as the stranger maneuvered her around the dance floor. The waltz allowed for him to have his hand around her waist, while the other hand held hers most possessively. Kiernan felt as though he'd just been dealt a blow as the man pulled Victoria closer to avoid running into another couple. The hooped framing underneath caused her skirt to flare out behind her as their bodies were pressed more closely together. She laughed and said something. The man leaned close to her ear, a hint of a grin on his face. He apparently replied—saying something uncalled for as far as Kiernan could think, because it made Victoria blush and pull back.

Without considering how it might look, Kiernan stalked across the dance floor to intercept the couple. Victoria stared at him in open surprise as he reached out and took her by the arm.

“It's time to go home,” he said without bothering to introduce himself to the stranger. “Ya will excuse us,” he told the man.

Barely keeping his temper, Kiernan could only pray that Victoria's shock would carry her in silence to the street. He had no desire to make a scene, especially after Victoria had made her own.

The cool night air hit him and immediately forced him to calm down. His behavior had been most foolish. No doubt, people back at the party were already talking about his ignorant actions. So his wife was dancing with someone else. So she blushed in the stranger's arms. It didn't mean he had a right to publicly embarrass her. He would have to apologize. He simply hadn't thought clearly. But as he stopped just inside their apartment building and turned to speak to Victoria, he could see the anger and hurt in her expression.

“How dare you!” she exclaimed, then pushed past him and rushed up the stairs.

He followed at a slower pace, and with each step he took, he felt a mixture of emotions. He no longer wanted to apologize. Instead, he was angry all over again.

He entered the apartment and could hear her throwing things around in their bedroom. Following the noise, he was surprised to see Victoria wrestling the combs from her hair and kicking her shoes off, all at the same time.

“You humiliated me in front of our friends!” she declared.

“Ya humiliated yarself,” he retorted without thinking.

Turning, hands on hips, Victoria stared at him for a moment before shaking her head. “And how was it I did that?”

“Ya know full well. Ya were dancin' with the man as if he were yar husband.”

“Well, my husband didn't see fit to be my companion this evening,” Victoria responded in uncharacteristic snippiness. “Perhaps if you'd remained by my side, I wouldn't have needed to seek company with someone else.”

“So ya sought out his company?” Kiernan countered, praying it wasn't true. He already felt guilty for the time he'd spent away from her at the party, but he wasn't about to admit it now.

“No, as a matter of fact, I didn't.” Victoria's tone calmed slightly. “He came to me.”

“I see. And did ya spend all evening with him?” Victoria's face flushed and Kiernan knew the answer even before she spoke it.

“Mr. Thorndike wanted to talk to me and so we talked. We danced several dances and he brought me punch. I'm sure that someone at the party will vouch for the fact that I did nothing out of line.”

“I never said ya did,” Kiernan said sarcastically. “But yar own face seems to suggest otherwise.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Just that yar all red in the face, even talkin' about him.”

Victoria sat down on the chair at her dressing table and began to brush her long, dark hair. Normally, Kiernan would have loved to have watched the sight, but tonight he was confused and angry, and the scene did nothing but further irritate him.

“Ya've been all bottled up inside for so long that I haven't any idea what the problem is. Ya won't talk to me and ya won't listen to me. I'm asking ya what happened tonight and what that was all about, but yar clearly not of a mind to be honest with me. I sometimes doubt that yar ever honest with me.”

Victoria dropped the brush on the table and turned. “You want my honesty. All right. You've distanced yourself from me since our arrival in California. Oh sure, there are moments when you seem more like your old self. When you appear to love me like you once did. But those times are so few that I scarcely dare to consider them as real.”

She got to her feet and stepped toward him, her expression one of pain and misery. “I know you're upset over the loss of my fortune, but that was years ago, and it's not the real reason you've put a wall between us.”

“Oh, and what would the real reason be?” he asked angrily. “Yar figurin' to know my mind on the matter. I suppose ya don't even need me here for this conversation.”

Victoria shook her head. “You love me less because I can't give you a child. It's that simple.” Her voice was barely audible, but the intensity of pain and longing in her words cut Kiernan to the heart.

He opened his mouth to speak—to deny it—but she raised her hand. “No,” she whispered, “you don't need to say anything. I know the truth of it. It's very apparent that this is an issue. You married me hoping for a big family and a prosperous life, and now you have neither, and you are no longer content to be my husband.”

Kiernan was stunned by her words, yet even as she spoke them, he had a nagging fear build within his heart. Could there be some truth in what she said? She deserved to know the truth, and yet at that moment he wasn't entirely clear on what that might be.

“I can't be talkin' to ya about this. Not now,” he said, crossing the room. He slammed the door behind him as he exited the apartment, feeling an emptiness engulf him. Was it true? Had he distanced himself from her because she'd proved to be barren? Had he caused her this misery?

25

It had been late in the night when Kiernan returned to the apartment. Victoria was already asleep when he slipped into their bed. Relieved that he did not have to face her just then, he simply turned out the lamp and closed his eyes in prayer.

When he awoke the next morning, Victoria was still sleeping soundly. Rather than wake her and have to deal with the issue of their fight before going off to a morning appointment with Crocker, Kiernan left her alone. There would be plenty of time to talk about the matter later, and frankly, Kiernan wasn't at all certain what that conversation might entail.

He'd come to the conclusion there was some truth in what she'd said. He still felt enormous guilt for taking her from her family and then losing her money. He supposed that perhaps their lack of children was some kind of divine punishment for his failures. Weren't children supposed to be a gift from God?

Perhaps the fault was not Victoria's at all, but rather his own. Perhaps he was facing the consequences of his actions. Either way, it troubled him more than he could say. He didn't like to think that he loved Victoria less than the day he'd first given his heart to her. They had both been practically children then, but the future seemed to be at their command. How different it was to grow up and know adulthood and the problems and fears that come with age.

When he reached Charlie Crocker's house, Kiernan was surprised to find Ted Judah arguing heatedly with the man.

“This is going to cost us plenty. I should have gone to Washington myself.”

“And what would the problem be now?” Kiernan asked lightly, hoping to diffuse some of the tension.

“Lincoln has changed his mind. The five-foot gauge is out, and the four-foot, eight-and-a-half-inch gauge is in. Apparently Congress overruled Lincoln's decision. Their eastern constituents no doubt felt that by keeping the smaller gauge, it would be California that would bear the brunt of the expense in making compliance.”

Kiernan nodded. “I was afraid that might well be the case.”

“Well, there's the devil to pay for it,” Crocker protested. “We'll have to tear up the track already in place and totally rework the road.”

“Aye,” Kiernan said with a nod. It seemed that instead of his job offering him some small amount of comfort, it would only add to his problems.

Evening twilight was already upon them when Victoria opened the door of her apartment to a Mexican boy. He smiled sweetly and told her in broken English that señor had sent him to say he would be very late in coming home that night.

“Did he say why?” Victoria questioned.

“I no speak English good,” the boy said apologetically.

She tried again. “My husband, the man you talked to—”

The boy nodded.

“Did he say why he would be late coming home?” She talked slowly and tried to think of any other way to help the boy understand.

“He no tell me more,” the boy replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

Victoria thanked the child and closed the apartment door in dejection. She'd fallen asleep before Kiernan had returned the night before. Her own temper had gotten the best of her, and she'd said things she now regretted—things she fervently wished she could take back.

“If I hadn't already felt guilty for the evening,” she murmured, “his words would have never bothered me.” But it wasn't Kiernan's accusatory tone regarding her actions with Thorndike that hurt her most. It was the fact that he'd said nothing in reply—he'd not said a single word to dispel her fears when she'd spoken of him loving her less because of her barren womb.

The hard truth of the matter was more than she could bear. Tears came again to her eyes, and without any desire to think further on the matter, Victoria took herself back to bed. She'd already spent most of the day there moping. She might as well spend her evening there too.

She'd no sooner settled onto the bed, however, when another knock sounded at the door. With a sigh, she forced herself to her feet and went back into the main room of the house to answer the door. A deliveryman, dressed in a white coat and bearing a long, deep box, greeted her by tipping his hat.

“Yes?” Victoria questioned.

“I have a delivery of flowers for Mrs. O'Connor.”

“I'm Mrs. O'Connor,” Victoria replied, her heart beginning to feel hope at the sight of the gift.

The man handed her the box, then left without another word. Victoria held the box for several moments without doing anything but stare after the man. She'd never received hothouse flowers—well, at least not since marrying Kiernan and moving to California.

She closed the door and gently placed the box on the table. Opening the lid she found a glorious bouquet of assorted blossoms. The wonderful scent wafted up to greet her, and leaning down, Victoria buried her face against the blossoms and took a deep breath. Marvelous!

Her heart beat faster at the thought of Kiernan sending her flowers. Perhaps this was his way of apologizing. He couldn't be there with her for some reason, but he'd sent the boy to let her know of his lateness, and he'd sent the flowers by way of an apology.

Spying the card that accompanied the bouquet, Victoria picked it up and read “Christopher Thorndike.” There was nothing more. No note to explain this unexpected gift—no word of greeting. Only the man's name. A name that didn't belong to her husband.