Into the Whirlwind (33 page)

While she tugged on her gloves, Richard reached behind her to pull her hood up over her head. He was smiling as he tied the strings loosely beneath her chin.

“We need to find you someplace a little more hospitable to stay,” he said warmly.

Mollie gazed up at him. “It’s not so bad. I have everything I really need.”

“Mollie, I want to give you the world.”

Her breath stopped. This man was everything any woman could hope for and more, but she wasn’t ready for this. Richard hadn’t stopped talking and he clasped her hands within his. “It cannot have escaped your notice that I think very highly of you, and before I leave . . . I need to know if there is anyone else who might be standing in my way for your affections.”

It was hard to breathe. She pulled her hands away, a sudden rush of anxiety flooding her nerves. Wasn’t this what she had been hoping for? A more permanent alliance with a man who seemed tailor-made for her?

She did not want to repeat the same mistakes she had made with Zack Kazmarek. It was in her nature to proceed slowly and with caution. Allowing herself to act impulsively had only caused her and Zack heartache.

She turned and walked farther away from the barracks. Snow crunched beneath her feet and a chill penetrated her cloak. She drew it a little tighter. “There is no one else,” she said softly. Although, was that really true? If Richard Lowe was the man she was going to marry, she wanted to be completely honest and open with him. She didn’t want to be the sort of woman who had corners of her heart she needed to hide. She walked toward an iron lamppost, the gaslight casting a glow in the
darkness. She leaned her back against the post and turned to look up at Richard.

“There was someone I cared for once,” she said. Richard froze and his gaze darted to her. “He was a rather . . . overwhelming person. Everything went very fast. I felt like I was on a runaway train careering down the tracks. It was wild and exhilarating . . . but I couldn’t control what was happening, and it ended badly.”

She risked a glance at Richard. He was watching her with caution, but no judgment. “I don’t want to make that same mistake with you,” she said earnestly. “You came riding into town at the lowest moment of my life with a platoon of soldiers at your command! What sort of woman wouldn’t be dazzled? You seem so perfect, and I fear becoming overwhelmed in the same manner as I did once before.”

“What is it you are asking of me, Mollie?”

She glanced away, staring at the snow whirling softly on the air. Richard would need to leave soon, and she was nowhere close to being ready for a life-altering decision. In just over two months, she had endured the loss of her home, her business, and Frank. She had indulged in a wild, exhilarating fling with a most inappropriate man who still made her heart pound when she thought of him. She would not race headlong into another alliance until she had both feet firmly on the ground, and that would take time.

Besides, Waukegan was only an hour away by train. After Richard returned home, she could visit him and see his town and be back home by dusk.

“I need time. I am not a reckless person who can make decisions quickly. I think very highly of you, but I fear repeating the mistakes of the past.”

Richard picked up her hand, confidence brimming in his clear
blue eyes. “Good things are worth waiting for.” He kissed the back of her hand. “I am happy to give you all the time you need.”

How pleasant he was. No quibbling or impassioned arguments. When Richard leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead, he made no demands on her. She stepped into his arms and felt like she was coming home.

23

A
s the weeks rolled past, Mollie settled into her new life as though putting on a favorite pair of shoes, comfortable from years of predictable wear. She rose every morning and arrived at the workshop by nine o’clock. She helped Gunner get the kiln started and updated her business charts with the daily chores. The shipment of watches was delivered to New York three days ahead of deadline, and a telegram from the shop said that two of the watches sold on the first morning they were put on display. Mollie had received an order for another dozen watches, and her workshop was fully operational.

Which meant she had time to make good on her promise to her neighbors on East Street and assist with the rebuilding of their shops. The Kauffman brothers were making progress on rebuilding their vinegar distillery, and Mollie volunteered to help them build the wooden racks where they stored barrels of vinegar while they aged. Wearing her sturdy canvas work gloves and the old mismatched clothing she had pulled from the donation bin, she sat amidst the sawdust on the floor to hold freshly cut pine boards while Archie Kauffman nailed them into place.

“Promise me you will make apple cider vinegar,” Mollie said.
“I can tell from half a mile away what you are brewing, and apple cider vinegar always smells the best.”

Mr. Kauffman grinned, holding two nails clamped between his teeth as he pounded another into the beams Mollie held flush against the frame. “I think malt vinegar will be our first batch. Quicker to produce.”

Mollie groaned. “Malt stinks up the whole neighborhood, and I just escaped from the brewery attic too! If this keeps up, I’ll go to my grave smelling like I’ve been marinating in a cask of beer.”

Mr. Kauffman finished securing the beam in place, and Mollie lowered her hands, rolling her shoulders to ease the ache in her muscles from holding her hands aloft so long. “Not to worry, I won’t be brewing any time soon,” Mr. Kauffman said. “I’ve found a metalsmith who can make three oversized brewing vats for us, but I can’t start making vinegar until I’ve got a decent turbine. The metalworker says it is beyond what he can supply.”

Mollie nodded, well aware of the problem. Caleb Magruder’s mill was the only high-quality mill left in the city, and he had more work than his men could handle. The Kauffmans would either need to wait in line at Magruder’s or travel to a neighboring city to get the kinds of turbines they needed.

“Three more beams, Miss Mollie, then we are done for the day.”

Mollie braced the board against the top rack of the barrel frame, the muscles in her shoulders resuming their familiar ache. Not that she minded. These few hours were a pittance compared to what the volunteers of the 57th had done for her, and she was glad to be able to pass along the favor.

There was a commotion near the front of the shop. A wave of cold air rushed in from the open door and she heard a familiar voice.

“Mollie! Hustle on back to the workshop. You are needed.” She craned her head to see Ulysses, who was grinning like it was Christmas morning.

Trapped with her arms overhead as she held the pine beam in place, she smiled back. “Give me ten more minutes,” she said. “Mr. Kauffman vows I am the best construction assistant in the city and can’t be spared.”

“You can say that again!” Mr. Kauffman agreed as he commenced the banging of his hammer.

“You need to come now, Mollie. Someone else can hold that board.”

There was no mistaking the urgency in Ulysses’s tone. He would not be insisting like this if it were a trivial matter, and a niggling of concern took root inside her mind. She glanced up at Mr. Kauffman, who summoned another man to take Mollie’s place.

Mollie brushed the sawdust from her skirt. “What has you so excited?” she asked Ulysses. She couldn’t place his mood. Was it possible to be agitated and happy at the same time? Given the way he was smiling but gripping the handle of his crutch like it was a lifeline, something had Ulysses wound up pretty tight. He propelled himself on his single leg and crutch with impressive speed, crossing the street and leading her into the workshop.

Colonel Lowe was inside, standing with Declan and three other members of the 57th who had gone to Milwaukee. There were men in police uniforms as well. She caught her breath.

“Miss Knox,” Richard said formally. “I am pleased to report that Jesse Coulter and the other five men who invaded the church have been apprehended and are on a train back to Chicago to face justice.”

The room tilted, and she swayed. Richard reached out, securing her against his side. She pressed her hand against the
thudding of her heart, a whirlwind of emotion swirling inside. The wave of exhaustion that settled on her was so strong she would have sunk to the floor had Richard not been holding her up. “I don’t know if I am supposed to laugh or cry,” she said a little helplessly.

It wouldn’t be right to rejoice. Celebrating wouldn’t bring Frank back, nor change the terrible way his life had ended. She merely leaned into Richard and closed her eyes, grateful to God for sending her such a hero to lean on when she had no more strength left.

It seemed right to visit the cemetery where Frank was buried to tell him the news. With every stonemason in the city deployed in the rebuilding efforts, Mollie had not been able to commission a gravestone to mark Frank’s final resting spot, but Declan had carved a simple wooden cross that would serve until the day they could arrange something more permanent.

The cemetery was deserted, barren limbs silhouetted against the gray sky. Mollie knelt on the snowy ground, hardly noticing the cold on her knees. “They got him, Frank,” she whispered, her breath turning into wisps on the cold air. “Colonel Lowe came through for us, and you don’t have to worry those men will go unpunished.”

She knew Frank was no longer here in this bleak cemetery, nor was his spirit troubled because of the foolish deeds of a passel of criminals. Frank Spencer had passed on to a place where earthly concerns no longer mattered, but she knew he would be pleased that Richard Lowe had come to rescue the 57th during their darkest hour. “He has been such a hero,” she whispered, feeling a little foolish talking into the air, but desperately needing to talk to
someone
who would simply listen and
not tell her to sprint down the aisle of matrimony into Colonel Lowe’s waiting arms. Even Alice was no longer a neutral party. She thought Mollie had been an idiot for asking Richard to be patient. Mollie knew to the marrow of her bones that Frank would have approved of her marriage to Richard. As would her father. So did everyone else working for the 57th. Why was she still hesitating?

Marriage to Richard would solve so many of her problems. Who didn’t want to slide into the comfort of being a good man’s wife? He was wealthy and handsome, a Christian with excellent values and a pleasant demeanor. He came from a family whose blood was bluer than a summer’s sky, and she could surely learn the proper manners and decorum to fit into such a privileged group of people. She had analyzed the situation forward, backward, and sideways, and each time, the final analysis told her she’d be a fool to turn him down. To her mortification, one night she had even made a list of Colonel Lowe’s qualities in one column and those of Zack Kazmarek in the opposite column. She considered each man’s comportment, temperament, and ability to be a provider, a father, and a husband. After weighing the qualities and calculating the percentages, the calculations told her that Richard was the clear winner.

Ashamed she would attempt to use a mathematical calculation to guide herself, Mollie tore the paper into tiny bits and tossed them into the brazier. She didn’t need a piece of paper to tell her Richard was the logical choice. And she was certain that if given enough time, she would come to love him.

But the proper opportunity would never come as long as she kept indulging in memories of Zack Kazmarek. Like a child who kept poking and prodding a loose tooth despite the pain, the temptation to relive her memories of Zack was irresistible.
It had been a month since that morning at Lake Park when she told him she no longer wanted to see him, and yet, the day she shipped the commemorative watches to New York, it had been Zack with whom she’d wanted to share her triumph.

She pushed to her feet and brushed the clumps of snow from her skirt. She would
will
the memories of Zack away. The next time Richard asked her to Waukegan to meet his parents, she would go. It was time to consign Zack to her past and meet the future with a brave face. Her resolve firm, she turned and headed toward the cemetery’s stone-arch gate to catch the last streetcar home.

Zack Kazmarek was leaning against the entrance, watching her with gentle affection in his eyes.

She blanched. Had her attempt to exorcise him from her mind conjured him up? She had forgotten how darkly handsome he was, the wind blowing his hair like Heathcliff on the moors. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

He pushed away from the gate and walked toward her. “I heard about what happened in Milwaukee, and I guessed this is where you would come.”

Her eyes narrowed. “That’s a lie. I told everyone at the workshop I was coming here, and you pumped someone for information. Who?”

His black brows lifted. “I thought we had moved beyond your bad habit of calling me a liar, Mollie. It doesn’t reflect very well on you.”

She folded her arms across her chest. She wasn’t going to let Zack draw her into an argument, not when all she wanted was to purge him from her heart, soul, and memory. “I’ll step aside and let you pay your final respects to Frank. I know how highly the two of you regarded each other.”