Firefly (16 page)

He put on a smile and then turned to face her.

"Your roast beef sure smells a lot more appetizing than Winnie's chili.  And that's applesauce cake you're baking, isn't it."

He inhaled deeply and let his eyes fall closed with the enjoyment of that spicy, warm aroma that brought back a thousand memories.

"Do you like applesauce cake?"

"Better'n chocolate," he sighed.  "Mom used to bake a cake almost every morning in the winter, when we were in school, and when she made applesauce cake, we'd have the whole thing eaten as soon as we got home."

He chuckled, recalling those days so long ago and so far away, and before he could say another word, Julie made up his mind for him.

"Then if you want fresh, still warm cake for dessert, I suggest you get yourself right home to bed so you can get at least a little sleep before dinner."

*  *  *

The adobe house was cool and quiet when Morgan entered.  It did not stay that way for long.

He built up a hearty fire in the stove, then filled two heavy cast iron cauldrons at the pump just outside the back door.  Next time he'd remember to keep the cauldrons on the roof where the sun would warm them so he'd have hot water for his bath any time he wanted it.

He stripped off the clothes he had dozed in when he lay down on the sofa in Opper's waiting room.  No, it was his waiting room now, difficult as the change was to believe.  Had he really gone almost a week without a taste of whisky?  He laughed, amused at himself for so easily falling into the girl's hands.

Dressed only in his underwear, he dropped his dirty laundry into the basket by the door and then went upstairs to bed.  Winnie had aired the mattress and pillows as well as washed the sheets.  He liked Winnie and hated to take advantage of her infatuation; he'd find a way to repay her tomorrow.

Settling his weary body in bed, he wondered sarcastically if anyone had ever taken advantage of the determined Miss Julie Hollstrom.

She had certainly manipulated him right to where she wanted him.  He almost wondered if she hadn't somehow arranged Opper's demise and then Peg Baxter's labor.  No, even Julie Hollstrom couldn't bring those things to order, but it sure as hell was fortuitous that the old man dropped dead when he did.  And Lord knew her family, if no one else, took plenty advantage of her.  They treated her like a slave.

Morgan pounded a fist into the pillow and rolled over on his side.  He reminded himself not to get carried away.  Julie couldn't have been responsible for the events of the past week. They were perfectly normal.  In fact, there had been fewer emergencies than when he first came to Plato twelve years ago.  Someone had estimated a thousand prospectors staked small, private claims in those mountains.  Anything that even vaguely hinted at attempted claim jumping was often instantly countered with a gun.  How many bullets had he and Amy pulled out of shoulders and thighs and hips and ribs?  This past week had been quiet in comparison.

Morgan yawned and stretched lazily, then settled more comfortably under the cool sheet.  Miss Julie Hollstrom thought she was going to push him around, did she.  Well, he'd show her a thing or two about manipulation.  She had so carefully let it slip that Hans, the oafish, over-sexed farm boy, was coming to dinner, too.  But if she thought that little hint would keep Del Morgan away from applesauce cake, she had another think coming.

He couldn't figure out why she had invited him in the first place if she knew Hans would be there.  And she obviously didn't want to take advantage of Morgan's offers to get a meal elsewhere.  He tried to reconcile the conniving Julie Hollstrom who had talked him into going out to Baxters' with the fragile Julie Hollstrom who wore those old faded dresses while her mother--but it was too much to think about now.  He was too tired, another, longer yawn reminded him.

*   *   *

Julie was stirring the gravy when Morgan knocked on the front door.  She couldn't see him from the kitchen, but she knew it could be no one else, for Hans and her parents already occupied the parlor.  And no one ever called on the Hollstroms unless invited.

Wilhelm answered the door, and Julie could hear his subdued greeting.  He had protested when she told him she had invited the doctor, but Katharine had expressed pleasure in the idea of a new guest.  It was her wish, therefore, that Wilhelm granted, not his daughter's.  When Julie walked into the parlor a few minutes later to announce that dinner was on the table, she could feel the tension in the air.

Hans frowned as he took the chair Katharine indicated, the one beside Wilhelm.  He clearly was not pleased with the addition to the party.

"And you, Dr. Morgan, please, sit here beside me," Katharine beamed, flashing him one of her most enticing smiles. "Willy, you sit down there by your papa, and watch your manners."

That put Julie next to her brother and directly across from Morgan--and as far away from Hans as she could be.

"Mama, don't you think--"

"Why, Julie, dear, how lovely the table looks," Katharine interrupted, as though she hadn't heard Julie's quiet protest.

"Thank you, Mama," she murmured.  She knew it was too late to do anything now, for Morgan had already moved to hold Katharine's chair for her.

Julie pulled her own chair out and sat down.  She didn't look at Hans but knew he was staring at her.  If she could have, she would have taken her plate and retreated to the kitchen.

"That roast looks delicious," Morgan commented, lifting the platter and helping himself to a juicy pink slice of meat. "This is probably the last time you'll be fixing a heavy Sunday dinner like this, I expect, with the summer heat coming on.  Mrs. Hollstrom, would you care for a more well-done piece?"

"Oh, no, I like it rare." Katharine smiled back.

He selected a generous slice and, after she nodded her approval, he placed it on her plate.  Then he passed the platter to Julie, who took it without meeting his eyes.  Not even over the edge of her glasses.

"If you think it's hot in that kitchen now, just wait another month or so," Morgan continued as he took the bowl of potatoes Hans handed to him.  "And how many of these lovely crisp potatoes, Mrs. Hollstrom?"

"I think only two, although they do look awfully tempting, don't they?"  Katharine purred right back at him.

"Then I'll give you an extra."

The exchange of pleasantries between Katharine and Morgan resumed with the peas, then the biscuits and butter, and finally when the gravy came around.  No one else, not even Willy, said a single word.

Morgan was again invited to ask the blessing on the meal, and this time he did so gracefully, intoning a short but moving prayer that held a ring of tradition.  Julie's curiosity about it was stifled by the continuing anger in Hans' unnaturally composed features, but Katharine had no such restraints.  While Julie picked up the knife and fork to cut the food on Katharine's plate, Katharine indulged her own inquisitiveness.

"My, what a lovely grace, Dr. Morgan.  Is it some special prayer from your childhood perhaps?"

"It's a poor translation, Mrs. Hollstrom.  My father was a deacon in his church before he left Wales, so we had plenty of prayers in Welsh when I was growing up."

"The Welsh are very musical people, too, aren't they.  I once knew a singer in New York named Thomas Pritchard who was Welsh."

Katharine's held tilted back just a little, as though she were calling up old, pleasant memories.  Julie recognized the glow that came into her eyes and knew the warning from Wilhelm could not be far behind.

"Are you originally from New York, Mrs. Hollstrom?" Morgan asked.

She was about to answer when her husband stopped her with a request for more butter.

"Your food is getting cold," he reminded her as if she were a child.

Katharine brought her eyes to bear on her husband but kept her smile when she told Morgan, "Yes, I was born in New York."

Julie choked, not intentionally, on a piece of beef.  The discomfort was easily outweighed by the relief she felt at drawing some of the attention from her mother.

The incident seemed to bring an end to conversation completely, and everyone settled down to enjoy the delicious meal Julie had prepared.  Morgan's occasional compliments brought blushes to her cheeks, just another reason for her to keep her eyes downward.  She knew he was looking at her, waiting to see her reaction, and she wouldn't give it to him, certainly not with Hans watching for the same thing.

No decent woman invited two single men to dinner at the same time.  If one happened to be her fiancé, well, that made matters even worse.  Julie felt the shame of her stupidity turn her cheeks more scarlet than Morgan's praises had done, and she wanted desperately to excuse herself from the table and hide in her room.

How often had her father, either with angry words or angrier glances, reminded her that she never was and never would be a decent woman?  Hadn't her elopement with Ted Sheen proven that?

Chapter Eleven

Katharine offered to help with the dishes while the gentlemen retired to the parlor after dessert.  The last thing Julie wanted was company in the kitchen, but she dared not displease her mother.

"You just start washing these things, dear, and I'll bring the rest of the plates," Katharine suggested.  "My, but that really was a very nice meal you fixed for Dr. Morgan."

Julie's protest had to wait.  Katharine had no sooner uttered those words than she strolled back to the dining room for another handful of silverware.  Julie couldn't call after her for fear the men in the parlor might hear.

But when Katharine returned to the kitchen, her daughter had a retort fully prepared.

"I did not fix that for Dr. Morgan, Mama," she insisted.

"Didn't you?  But I thought sure, when he thanked you for the applesauce cake, that you had--"

"No, Mama.  I swear, I planned to bake that cake before I knew anything about it being his favorite."

Katharine dropped the knives and forks into the pan of hot soapy water with a small splash.

"Then how fortunate you made such a good guess."

Katharine turned to make another trip to the dining room only to stop abruptly when Julie asked,  "Why do you consider it so fortunate that I pleased Dr. Morgan with my choice of dessert?"

"Well, isn't that what you wanted to do?"

"No!  I mean, yes, of course I wanted to please him, but, Mama, you make it sound as though I set out to do it in some special sort of way."

"Didn't you?"

On that note, Katharine smiled and escaped again, leaving Julie with her hands in hot water.  There was no one to blame for the disaster of this Sunday dinner but Julie Hollstrom.

She took a stack of plates from Katharine and slid them into the dishwater.

"Mama, I think it is time to start thinking about the future," Julie said quietly.

"Yes, I think so, too.  Dr. Morgan is right.  It really is getting too hot for you to be doing so much cooking.  Do you suppose you could ask that Miss Upshaw how she gets by during the summer?  I never gave anything like that much thought."

"Please, Mama, that isn't what I meant.  I meant about Hans and me."