Summer Lightning (33 page)

It was hard to tell which women he meant by his last comment until he turned his gaze once more on his future bride. Edith prepared herself to see a renewed outflashing of the halo that surrounded true lovers. She saw nothing.

While Mr. Huneker greeted Jeff, saying he knew him well, Edith rubbed her eyes. The sunlight was very bright but nothing could be brighter than the fire that melded two hearts.

Frowning, she looked more intensely, concentrating her heart’s gaze on Mr. Huneker. Even if Mrs. Green were not completely in love with him, he was certainly mad for her. Edith still saw nothing but two people smiling giddily at one another.

Slowly, Edith said, “I wish you and Mr. Huneker every happiness.”

“As do I,” Jeff added.

“She has already made the children happy,” Mr. Huneker said, not taking his eyes off her. “And I am always happy now.”

The oldest girl took the baby from Mrs. Green’s arms and said, “Don’t forget to ask them, Adelia.”

“Oh, thanks, Friederike.” Mrs. Green said to Edith, “You must come to the wedding. It’s going to be a small, mostly just us, though . . .” She chuckled again. “Though we’re a crowd now all by ourselves. But since you’re really the cause of it all, Miss Parker, we must have you as a witness. And you too, Mr. Dane. Maybe you’d like to bring your girls and your father?”

Jeff said, “We’d enjoy that. What day?”

“Next Wednesday. Goodness, is that only a week off?”

Apologetically, Edith said, “I’ll be gone by then, Mrs. Green. But I do thank you for the invitation.”

She walked past the children and got into the buggy without waiting for Jeff. He stayed for a moment and said something to Mrs. Green, something that brought the laughter once more into her face. All the children waved as Jeff and Edith drove away.

She was frightened, feeling as lost as Rudy had been. If only she could run home! But she had no home to go to. She began to tremble. The world was so big—without her special gift, how was she to make her way in it?

“Edith?” Jeff said, as though he’d said it before. “Edith, what’s the matter?”

He glanced at her as he drove. Even after the fire when she’d appeared in his hotel, grimed and exhausted, owning nothing but a bird cage, she hadn’t looked this distressed. She was white to the lips. Her fingers worked restlessly in their smooth leather gloves, and she had a haunted look in her eyes.

“Edith,” he said again, worried now. “I’m stopping.”

She placed a hand over his as he began to draw on the rein. “No, don’t. I’m . . . I’ll be all right.”

“Was it Mrs. Green? Did she say something to . . .”

“No.” She forced a smile. How could she explain to him? He’d only say she couldn’t have lost something that didn’t exist in the first place. “Don’t worry. I’m all right.”

“Like hell you are.”

He pulled back on the reins, and the patient bay stopped in the shade of some elm trees. Not caring that half the idlers in Richey were probably watching, Jeff reached across to take Edith by the elbow. He demanded, “Now tell me. What’s wrong?”

“Really . . .” she protested. “There’s nothing.”

Jeff pulled her into his arms and kissed her ruthlessly. He paid no attention to her pushing against his chest or her whimpers of protest. Only when those noises changed to ones of pleasure did he let her go.

“Now tell me.”

Edith blinked foolishly. “I can’t . . . see anything.”

“You’re blind?”

“No, I mean ... of course I can see with my eyes, it’s the other thing . . . I’ve lost it.”

“Maybe I kissed you too hard. You’re not making any sense.”

Edith nodded. “I know. But what can you expect from me? Jeff, I’m . . . different.”

“Why do you think I ... Okay. Let’s have it. What’s the matter with you? Wait, don’t tell me. You’re a Sioux squaw. No, a dancer from some hootchy-kootchy show?” He squinted at her. “I’ve got it. You shaved your beard but you’re really Robert E. Lee.”

“Don’t joke.” The misery that set her lower lip trembling and filled her dark blue eyes with tears silenced his raillery. “It’s a terrible thing, a secret I’ve always kept. My aunt knew, but she hated for me to speak of it.”

Jeff gripped her hands, hard. “You’re not married, Edith? Never mind. I know you’re not. And even if you are, there are such things as divorces. I’ll spend every cent I’ve got if that’s what it takes. I’ll get you a divorce.”

He looked so terribly fierce that Edith couldn’t bear it. She laid her hand against his cheek and forced him to meet her eyes. “Of course I’m not married. But I am ... abnormal.”

“What? How?”

“I ... see things. Or, rather, I saw things.”

“What things? Some people see spots that aren’t there; it doesn’t mean anything.”

Edith shook her head, tiredly. Telling him was harder than she had guessed it would be. He wanted so much to explain away her dismay, to make all her troubles light enough to float away. The only thing to do was to tell him straight out, no beating around the bush. Then he’d know what to make of her.

“I can look at someone and know about them. At least, I can tell if they are in love, or if someone is in love with them.”

Jeff stared at her. “You can .  .  .”

‘The desk clerk at the hotel, the porter ... I told them about their true loves. It’s also how I know that Dulcie isn’t in love with Mr. Sullivan. She couldn’t be because there was nothing to see.”

“What are you trying to make me believe?” His frown was black.

Now that she’d opened her heart, the words poured out. “I can’t explain it very well. It just happens. I’ll look at someone and I understand. Only love, though. I can’t tell who you hate or respect. Take you, for instance. I knew as soon as I saw you that you weren’t in love with anyone and that no one was in love with you.”

“You could tell all that from a glance.”

The disbelief in his voice was enough to wilt her. “I hoped ... I guess I should have known better. Take me to Vera’s, Jeff. Then I’ll catch the first train back to St. Louis.”

He caught her hand. She struggled for a moment, then let it lay passively in his grasp. “Edith, forgive me. This is a lot to throw at a fellow all at once. If you believe it, honey, that’s good ...”

“No. It’s better if I go. I couldn’t stand for you to start looking at me as if I were crazy . . . but I can see it’s too late for that.” Edith pulled her hand free. “All I can say is that I’ve always been able to do this thing. Except . . .”

“Except?”

“Just now I couldn’t do it.” She told him about Mrs. Green and Mr. Huneker, how they should have out shone the sun, but that nothing had happened. “I can’t imagine what has changed or how it happened. Even when I concentrated . . .”

“I know what changed.”

“How? You don’t believe . . .”

“I happened.” He had a funny look, half-ashamed, half-boastful. “The ride in the buggy happened. You were so sweet, Edith. And a little drunk, I guess, on Miss Minta’s wine. One thing led to another. You don’t remember what happened next. You . . .” He hesitated, as though looking for a gentle word.

“I remember,” she said, putting her fingers on his lips.

“You do?” He kissed her fingertips. A familiar gleam came into his bright eyes. “That’s a pretty overwhelming experience for a girl, especially one like you who’s never had a whole lot to do with men. I was your first kiss, wasn’t I?”

Edith was blushing painfully. “You could tell?”

“There’s nothing crazy about you. Oh, maybe you think too much, and imagine too much, and you definitely talk too much sometimes . . .”

“But . . .”

“But that doesn’t mean you’re crazy, honey. Though I don’t suggest you go telling anybody else in town what you just told me. Not everybody has seen as much of the world as I have.”

“Then you . . . believe me?”

He tugged at his earlobe as he looked at the ground. “I believe
you
believe it. But . . .”

“That will have to do, I guess.” She could face the next ordeal, now that Jeff hadn’t rejected her utterly. The world seemed to shine a little more brightly, compared to the despair she’d been thrown into a few minutes since. She wondered if Jeff was right. Had the physical pleasure she’d known overthrown her mental powers?

Straightening up, Edith said decisively, “I think we must stop at Vera’s first, as Sam isn’t here to talk to her as we agreed. I didn’t think he’d back out.”

“You’re still going ahead with this?”

“Unless you’ve thought of another way to save Dulcie and Vera.”

Jeff reached for the reins, with a fatalistic shrug. “I guess we’re about out of options.”

Driving down the street, Jeff nodded toward a familiar-looking wagon. “Dad hasn’t backed out. Look. He’s there now.”

“But the girls?”

“They’re all right. He’ll have taken Mrs. Jackson to stay with them by this time. The girls love Ida. She spoils them rotten. She wants to spoil Dad too, but he’s not having it.”

He pulled up in front of Miss Albans’ building. Dropping the reins, he turned toward Edith. He tried to take her hands, but Edith clasped them tightly in her lap.

Shrugging, Jeff said, “While Dad’s up there talking her into it, I’m going to try one more time to talk some sense into you.”

“You can’t. I mean, I’m determined to do this.”

“But why?”

“We’ve been over that. Mr. Sullivan is . . .”

“A lousy excuse for a human being and a waste of fresh air. I know. I agree. The first time I saw him I thought . . .”

“When did you see him? The other day you said you’d never . . .”

“I went down the saloon the other night. He was there.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that. That was very good of you, Jeff.”

He said, “Maybe it was kind of feudal of me, checking out Dulcie’s intended that way. But I didn’t like the looks of him then, and I don’t care for them much more now.”

“Now?”

Jeff nodded toward a sharply dressed figure walking down the street. “If he’s heading for Vera’s, there’ll be trouble.”

Just then, Sam left the building through the front door. He was dressed in a long black frock coat with straight-legged trousers—very fancy for a weekday. He’d even put on his second hard collar of the week. With his graying hair and proud stance, he looked every inch a distinguished gentleman, and a very handsome one too. Vera stood smiling above him, holding the door open to add a few parting words. She glanced past Sam and saw Victor.

Coming to a stop at the bottom of the steps, the dapper man touched the brim of his straw hat and gave an entrancing smile. Even from the street, Edith could see the color drain from Vera’s face, leaving her haggard.

Sam turned slowly around. His voice was deep, slow, and unaccountably dangerous. “You want something here, mister?”

Jeff jumped down from the buggy. He reached for the whip standing in its socket. Idly, he began to trace patterns with it on the boardwalk.

His toothy smile broadening, Victor said, “Merely to speak with Miss . . . Albans, isn’t it? I want to buy something for my fiancée. Is that allowed in Richey?”

“There are other stores that might take your money,” Sam said. “Get your . . . self away from here.”

“No,” Vera said above him. Edith noticed that her friend’s hands gripped the edge of the door so hard the white bones showed through her skin. “It’s all right, Sam. I’ll wait on him.”

“That’s right,” Mr. Sullivan said, putting his gaitered shoe on the first step, though Sam still stood in his way. “Money’s money, after all.”

“Is it?” Sam reached into the pocket of his long coat. He withdrew a handful of gold coins and weighed them in his hand.

“I guess I must have about a hundred dollars here, give or take a little. Pretty things too, twenty-dollar gold pieces.”

With a careless flick, he sent them rolling and bouncing down the steps. They glittered in the sunlight, flashing as they rained down.

Victor stared at the coins, his mouth hanging open, wet with greed. Suddenly Edith wondered how anyone could ever have thought him handsome. Sam’s voice was cold as a wintry wind as he said, “You go ahead and pick ‘em up, boy.”

The younger man stooped, but Sam’s voice came again. “I warn you though. For every one you grub up out of the muck, my son there will lash you. Now you ask yourself if money’s the most important thing in the world, or not!”

Victor glared at Jeff, a trapped creature. In his eyes, Edith saw a hatred born of envy and fear. “Easy for you,” he snarled. “You’ve got everything! But one day, you’ll be brought down, you fine gents. One day!”

He ran then, as he must have run when he stole apples off barrows. They watched him run, and Edith saw that the sole of one of his fancy shoes flopped. Suddenly, she felt bitterly sorry for Victor Sullivan.

“Good riddance.” Sam glanced up at Vera. “You’re crying?”

She shook her head. Her smile was as heartbreaking as her tears. Unable to speak, she stepped back and closed the door. Sam looked up at the sky and said, “Women!”

Jeff coiled his whip. “I don’t know,” he said, following Victor with his eyes. “I almost feel bad for that fellow. Sure, he’s a bad egg, but what sent him bad, I wonder.”

“I don’t give a damn,” Sam said. “Beg pardon, Edith. But if he comes around Vera again, or any other decent woman, I’ll give him that whipping all right.”

He pulled out his watch and flicked it open with his thumb. “We’d better be getting along to the Armstrongs before they take their lunch. Not they’ll have much stomach for it afterward.”

Making up her mind, Edith climbed down from the wagon. “I think we should wait.”

“Wait?” Jeff demanded. “I’ve been trying to talk you into ...”

“And you’re right,” she said, stealing his thunder. “You’re right. I’m going to talk to Mr. Sullivan.”

“Oh, no,” Jeff said. “That’s a bad idea.”

“Bad idea,” Sam echoed.

“All the same, I’m going to. I’ll see you at home. I mean, I’ll walk back to your house.”

“No,” Jeff said again, crossing his arms.

“Well, if you want to wait for me . . .”

“You’re not going, Edith and that’s final.”

She just patted him on the arm and started walking.

Chapter 21