Mother Lode (15 page)

Catherine recognized a melancholy in herself
she knew she had to fight with all her strength, or it would sweep
her under. If only Desdemona were still alive. The beautiful mare
her father had given her had helped to release some of her pent up
feelings. Riding took her out of herself, left her dark demons
behind, while she expressed a wildness, an uncensored energy no
amount of domestication could tame. She knew that later the demons
would find her out, but for the moment she had fashioned a fragile
truce with them, allowing her to step out of time and place and
lose herself in a world apart.

“Thomas, I want to buy a horse.” As he
stared at her she added, “I hope you won’t fight me on this.”

She named the beautiful roan-colored gelding
Falstaff. Every day his soft welcoming neigh greeted Catherine in
the stable.

One day she took the path up the hill toward
the mine and across the fields to the west. New buildings were
going up every day, and one of them was the library.

With Jorie in school, Catherine started
attending regularly. She’d pore over volumes of poetry and novels,
sometimes checking the books out, but often staying at the library
to read. In the pleasant surroundings of this new hideaway which
held no threat of unwanted intrusion, she could lose herself
vicariously in the lives of others.

It was here that she met Chester. Over a
period of weeks, nods and smiles were exchanged for walks on the
adjoining grounds. Not long after that, they started taking rides
across the hills behind the town. She discovered he had been sent
there to survey land for the government, and he was single.

She noticed his tanned skin and healthy
appearance. She gauged his age to be about thirty-five.

“Are you here to stay?”

“No, when I finish this job, I’ll be sent
somewhere else.” He shrugged, smiled down at her.

“You’re fortunate to be able to work above
ground.”

“And what does your husband do, if I may
ask?”

She hadn’t told him she was married, but she
supposed her ring gave her away.

“He’s chief engineer for the Keweenaw Mining
Company.”

On another day she asked, “How is it that
with your work, you have time to come to the library during the
daytime?”

“The first time you saw me was a Saturday,
if you recall. After that, I rearranged my hours. Shall I confess
to you that I am now at the site by dawn, taking advantage of the
early daylight, and have done a day’s work by two or three
o’clock?”

His openness touched her. She felt a prickly
heat creep up her neck, for surely he’d told her that she was
important enough to re-arrange his whole schedule!

“I don’t mind telling you I am enjoying your
company. I haven’t been with young women for some time now.”

Young! He thought her
still young!
Well, she was, after all,
only twenty-six.

“But this town has its share of young
women.”

“I don’t know how to meet them, and I don’t care for
the company of ‘ladies of the night’.”

“Do you have a sweetheart back east?”

“Not any more. She got tired of my taking
off across the country, and married someone else.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I doubt if I was ready for marriage five
years ago.”

He asked her if she liked to bathe.

“If you mean swimming, I haven’t been since
I was a child.”

“Would you like to — at the lake?”

“It’s much too cold. It’s barely June.”

“There’s a very small lake on the way to
Dollar Bay. It’s not so cold.”

She promised to consider it.

“Mummy, you’re so happy,” Jorie said as they
were reading a story that evening.

She hugged him. “Yes, Darling, I am. And
with a bright boy like you, why wouldn’t I be?”

But she could hardly focus on what he was
telling her.

“On the twentieth, Mummy. I can’t wait.”

“What’s on the twentieth, Dear?”

“School’s out.”

School’s out! She hadn’t thought about that.
Well, thank God for Helena.

“We’ll have the whole summer together,
Mummy. Just you and me.”

“Yes, Dear.”

On a warm day in July they met at the
library and rode silently toward Dollar Bay. When they reached the
shore, her heart was pounding more than ever as they dismounted and
tied the horses to a tree. She’d worn the bathing outfit under her
riding clothes, but still could not imagine disrobing in front of
this man.

He saved her the problem by disappearing for
a short time. Catherine quickly removed her outer clothes, and went
toward the water. She wanted to go as far out as she dared, to
avoid the embarrassment of his seeing her in this costume.

She turned and saw him coming toward her,
crashing into the water as wildly as a horse. He dove under and
came up beside her, shaking his head vigorously to get his hair out
of his face. She burst out laughing.

“I’m not that funny, am I?”

“No,” she tried to stop laughing. “It’s
just, I’ve never seen you this way before.”

Through the top of his suit, she could see
his nipples, and suddenly wondered if he could see hers. Well, no,
the top of her outfit was loose and blousy, thank heavens.

“Can you swim?

“No. It was not a popular pastime in
Scotland, and I daresay not here either. I doubt anyone swims in
Lake Superior. Even Portage Lake is very cold, I’m told.”

She moved her arms back and forth through
the water for something to do.

“I would tell you that I was the swimming
champion in school, but that would be bragging,” he said.

“All right, then, don’t tell me, and you
won’t have that on your conscience!”

“Oh, I’ve much worse things on my
conscience.”

He swam in a circle around her for awhile
before coming back to her.

When she started shivering he spread a
blanket on the ground in the sun. She told him about her son, how
bright and inquisitive he was. Chester said he’d like to meet him
sometime.

When it was time for her to go he said,
“Next time I’ll teach you to swim, Katie. . .Do you mind if I call
you Katie?”

Katie.
Only her father had called her that. It felt strange hearing
it from this man she barely knew. She wasn’t quite sure she wanted
to share it with anyone else, but she found herself
nodding.

They started meeting at the lake. He
broached the subject of swimming again.

“It’s not that hard, truly. I’ll teach you
to float first. Mostly, it’s a matter of trust, of just giving
yourself to the water.”

He demonstrated. “If you’ll allow me, I’ll
support your back at first, just enough to keep you afloat, while
you build your confidence.”

She was wary of this new turn, but she
agreed.

He led the way to where the water was quite
shallow. “See here you can put your feet safely on the bottom.” He
stretched his arms out. “Now if you’ll just lean back. Remember,
just surrender yourself to the water.”

Just surrender to you, you mean.

Awkwardly, she leaned back against his
outstretched arms, and tried to raise her legs. With a few more
tries, she was able to stay on her back without doubling up and
going down.

“There, now don’t you feel more
relaxed?”

“Yes.” But she felt naked too, exposed,
lying before him, gazing down at her. She didn’t know where to rest
her eyes. And she could feel his hands under her, supporting her.
She began to have other feelings, too, which caused her concern.
She ended the lesson rather abruptly.

At home Helena said, “You’ve certainly taken
to the swimming, haven’t you, mum?”

Of course Helena would have noticed the
sudden change in her habits, the frequency with which she was
away.

“It’s a healthy sport.”

“Do you meet interesting people there?”

“Sometimes. Did you clean the lamp
chimneys?”

“Yes, ma’am, and changed the wicks,
too.”

More to please Chester than herself,
Catherine learned to swim.

The next afternoon Chester was waiting for
her at the hitch where they tied up their horses.

“Let’s ride,” he said. He did not wait for
her to answer nor give her time to dismount. He swung up on his own
horse, leading the way, never turning to make certain that she was
with him. She followed blindly, outraged at his assumptions, amazed
at her own obedience to his will.

He did not take her through town, but cut
back through the woods behind the library and up the hill, which
overlooked a shallow valley. From there they turned west and rode
in silence side by side through fields of timothy and oats. It was
unusually warm, and Catherine could feel droplets of perspiration
on her brow even before he started running his horse. It took her
only a second to catch the change, and in a moment she had Falstaff
running too, but as hard as she tried, she could not catch up.
Finally, in the hollow, she saw him dismount. As she came upon him,
he grabbed the reins, brought her horse to a standstill and helped
her dismount.

He took her hand and for a time they walked
in silence. Then he turned to her, cupped her face in his hands and
pressed his lips to hers. She offered no resistance. It was as
though it had been planned, as if she’d always known it would come
to this. She felt his hand slide down her back.

In one easy movement, he pulled her to the
ground. Suddenly horizontal, she found herself looking up into his
face. He had her pinned to the ground, but was studying her face,
giving her a chance to catch her breath.

“If you want me to let you go, say it now,”
he was smiling. “Otherwise, I’ll not be responsible for what
happens.”

She was still breathing heavily, not sure
how much to attribute to the hard ride and how much to the man. Her
nostrils filled with the sweet smell of alfalfa. She stared at him
briefly for a moment, said nothing.

“Then give me your mouth.”

She lifted her face to his. His kisses so
soft and gentle for such a long time, Catherine became impatient
for something stronger.

“You make me feel like a child — the way I
was kissed when I was sixteen,” she goaded him.

As she anticipated, her words fired in him a
strong response. He sunk his hands into her hair and pulled her
back to him. He kissed her hard and long, engulfing her in a
passion she hadn’t felt since the first year of her marriage.

He tongued her neck and the inside of her
wrists, bringing to her awareness sensitivity to parts of her body
she’d never experienced.

“Still feel like sixteen?”

“No,” she murmured.

Then to her disappointment, he stopped, sat
up, picked a long stem of grass.

“Were you just teasing me?”

He shook his head.

“Your passions wane quickly.”

“They haven’t waned at all.” He sat still,
chewing the grass. “I think we should walk for a spell.”

Catherine did not want to, but she pulled
herself together, smoothed her hair, as he offered a hand to help
her up.

“You’re covered with grass.”

“Well, you dumped me in a field.”

“I did, didn’t I? Are you angry with
me?”

“For the hay, or the way you treated
me?”

“Either. Both.”

“I should be. On both counts. What made you
think I would . . .”

She didn’t need to finish. “You followed me
out of town, didn’t you?”

She blushed. “Are you looking for a wanton
woman?”

“No.” He pulled her to him. “If I thought of
you that way, do you think I’d have stopped just now?”

They walked through the field, hand in hand.
Finally, they returned to the horses.

“I’d best leave you here. Can you make it
back all right?”

“Of course,” she answered with all the
dignity she could summon.

He turned her around, and she felt his hand
brush her shoulders, slide down her back and buttocks as he brushed
off the bits of grass. She had all she could do not to turn and
throw herself back into his arms.

“Think about what we’re doing. I don’t need
to recite the risks for you.”

He helped her mount. “If it pleases you,
meet me here tomorrow at three. If you don’t come, I’ll
understand.”

She nodded, could barely look at him, raced
toward home as fast as she could — away from her shame, her
ecstasy. She wished he’d just taken her there in the field before
she had to think about it.

That night she tossed in bed; at times
overcome with guilt she decided she would not meet him. The risks
of scandal, of losing Jorie—she couldn’t bear to think of that.

Then she tried to justify it. It seemed any
kind of romantic life with Thomas was over. And then, out of
nowhere Chester Bigelow had appeared. What a fool she’d be to
refuse him!

In the morning, she
thought, “I’ve only been playing games with myself. How could
I
not
meet
him?”

The decision had been made—at least for now.
She would not think beyond today.

Three o’clock would never come, it seemed.
She busied herself with chores to make the day go faster. She left
a bit early to stop and pick up some sweets at the General Store at
the bottom of the hill. That would be a way of breaking the ice and
put them both at ease.

As she was leaving the shop, Earl Foster
entered. Standing in the doorway, he prevented her making a
graceful exit.

“Oh, Catherine,” he said, “You’re just the
person I want to see. I hope you’re well—better than my wife.”

Catherine was
impatient.
Why now?
It would be rude to push past him.

“Is Mrs. Foster ill?” she managed.

“It started with a summer cold. But she’s
been running a fever now for three days.”

“You should call the doctor.”

“Well, that’s just it. To tell you the
truth, the doctor’s medicine isn’t helping her.”