The Bride Wore Blue (12 page)

“There are other men, you know.”

Vivian tied off the thread and snipped it with her teeth. “The deputy and I are committed to stopping the robberies. I was a witness, and he is quite thorough. That’s all.”

“I didn’t mention any names.”

Vivian swallowed hard. She’d just set her own matchmaking trap.

Nell grinned, a calculating gleam in her eyes. “The lawman isn’t the only good-hearted, single man in town.”

But he was the only one who’d captured her attention.

“Judson works with several eligible fellows. There’s Tim Phieffer in shipping and receiving. Melvin Whitman is an inspector at the mine. And there’s—”

Vivian raised her hand to stop her sister. “I’m not interested in courtship, Nell.” If she could be, Carter Alwyn would be at the top of her list.

They moved on to other topics, and Vivian mended the dressing gown, a skirt, and a shirtwaist, then left Nell to finish the blanket.

A light breeze teased the ringlets dangling at Vivian’s collar. From Nell and Judson’s home near the base of Mount Pisgah, she headed down B Street toward Bennett Avenue. She dodged a feisty horse pulling a wagon at the corner of Bennett Avenue and stepped up onto the boardwalk. So far, life in Cripple Creek was nothing of what she’d expected. Bank robbers and lawmen. Shop owners who thought her too costly, too young, too weak. Well, she’d show them they were wrong.

“Good day, ma’am.”

Vivian looked up into the face of an elderly gentleman doffing a derby.

“Sir.” She returned his smile and continued on her way to Third Street.

Although Vivian wasn’t fond of the idea, work as a telephone operator would give her a lot of opportunities. And she couldn’t sit around doing nothing while waiting for Mrs. Ondersma’s business to thrive.
She needed to go where the job opening was. She could do just about anything for a time if she knew it was merely a steppingstone.

The Colorado Telephone Company office sat on the west side, across from the Third Street Café. A blue metal factory-made storefront and gold lettering on the glass door embellished the two-story brick building.

Vivian drew in a deep breath and wrapped her gloved hand around the doorknob. As Father would say, nothing ventured, nothing gained, so she entered.

A woman rose from a small desk and tucked a sprig of gray hair under the circle of braid that clung to the back of her head. “May I help you, miss? ”

“I was told there is an opening for an operator.”

The woman looked Vivian over and tugged the banana-yellow pinafore straight on her bright orange linen dress. Surely that wasn’t a required uniform. If so, Vivian already knew this wasn’t the job for her.

“Your name?”

“Vivian Sinclair.”

“Have a seat on the bench there.” She looked past Vivian at the wooden deacon’s bench against the wall. “I’ll let Mrs. Hartley know you’re here.”

When the woman dressed like a fruit basket had disappeared through an open door, Vivian seated herself. A chorus of
pr-ring, pr-ring, pr-ring
overpowered the muffled female voices emanating from the other side of the wall. She looked through a stack of magazines on a side table until footsteps drew her attention back to the door.

“Miss Sinclair?”

Vivian looked up into a smiling face and stood. “Yes.”

“I’m Mabel Hartley, the manager here. Someone told you we needed another operator?”

“Yes, my sister, Nell Sinclair … I mean, Mrs. Judson Archer.”

Recognition registered in Mrs. Hartley’s gray eyes. “She’s come here for donations to the benevolence fund. I am short one girl.” She glanced toward the open door. “If you’ll follow me, we can go to my office and discuss your qualifications.”

Mrs. Hartley was about Vivian’s height, but fleshy. A cacophony of bells and chatter filled the room they entered. Vivian followed Mrs. Hartley past three young women seated at desks in front of panels covered with holes and flickering lights. Thankfully, they all wore different patterns of dress in various colors. No uniform. She could do this.

The operators pulled cords out of the table in front of them and plugged them into the holes with lights next to them. Vivian was sure she’d heard the words “Who are you calling?” twelve times between the door and the narrow steps in the corner of the room.

Upstairs, the manager’s office was modest but neat and clean. Mrs. Hartley pointed to a wooden office chair and then seated herself behind the oak desk. Vivian folded her hands in her lap.

“You saw the operators at the boards?” Mrs. Hartley asked.

“Yes ma’am, I did.”

“Then you saw that our work here is rather clear-cut. A telephone operator receives incoming calls and directs the caller to the intended recipient.” Mrs. Hartley opened a drawer. “You think you could do that?”

It sounded easy enough. “I would do my best.”

“You’re young and bright. I say we give it a try.” She pulled a form out of a folder and handed it to Vivian. “Fill this out and bring it back with you Monday morning.”

“Monday. Yes, thank you.”

“You’ll begin your training at ten o’clock.”

Vivian had walked halfway to the boardinghouse before her new reality sank in—she was a working woman. Helping Aunt Alma unpack boxes of fabric and thread and stock shelves in her dry goods store in Portland didn’t count. On Monday she would begin her first real job. She was finally on her way to becoming a self-reliant woman.

A
surge of hope powered Vivian’s steps as she strolled down Fourth Street Saturday morning. At the corner, she stepped up onto the boardwalk. Nell walked toward her down Bennett Avenue and waved. In Nell’s other hand, a paper-wrapped bundle dangled by the string that bound it.

“You finished the blanket,” Vivian said as they walked.

Nell sighed. “Just last night.”

“But you finished it. When you set your mind to something—”

“Yes, well, it’s a Sinclair trait, which means I’m not the only one.” A smile reached Nell’s blue eyes. “Any success in your search for employment? ”

“I went to the telephone company when I left you Tuesday and spoke to Mrs. Hartley.”

Nell’s eyebrows arched. “And?”

“And I start work at the telephone company on Monday.”

“That’s wonderful!”

Vivian wasn’t sure how she felt about being a telephone operator, but she was thankful to have a job.

Nell paused at a busy intersection and waited for a donkey cart to pass, barely turning her head to the right. “This is Myers Avenue.” She
spoke the street name in a whisper. “We have to turn left to get to Poverty Gulch where Eleanor lives, but
good girls
don’t frequent Myers.”

Blameless girls. Girls who weren’t living a lie. Feeling like an impostor, Vivian followed her sister’s lead and looked straight ahead as they continued down the hill behind the depot.

They’d just walked under the trestle and down into the Gulch when three little girls ran toward them in flour-sack dresses, all of them shouting her sister’s name, their arms open wide. “Miss Nell!” “Mith Nell!”

Nell pulled them into a hug. “Girls, this is my sister, Miss Vivian.”

“Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” they said in unison.

Nell introduced them. “These are the Zanzucchi sisters, Jocelyn, Jaya, and Julia.”

Smiling, Vivian looked at each one in turn, spending more time on the youngest sister. “Girls, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The oldest of the Zanzucchi girls smiled, then focused her dark-eyed gaze on the package in Nell’s hand. “Is that for Miss Eleanor’s baby?”

“Yes, it’s a blanket.” Nell looked down at the youngest child, who still clung to her leg. “But now, I have a little something for you.”

“For uth?” The big-eyed girl looked about four years old.

“Yes. For you.” Nell poked her belly, and she squealed. “For you, and for you.” When she reached for the other girls, they jumped back, giggling.

Vivian couldn’t help giggling too while inwardly struggling to understand God’s reasoning, or at the very least, His timing. Nell was so good with children and longed for one of her own to present to a husband who adored her. And here she was, taking a baby blanket to a
woman who’d lost her husband and would have to raise a child on her own. It made no sense to Vivian.

“But it’s not our birthday, Miss Nell.” This big sister stood just as poised as Ida always did.

“It’s not?” Nell asked.

A frown creased the littlest one’s chin, and she shook her head, causing ripples of sunlight to flow down her long raven hair.

Nell pulled three candy sticks from the pocket of her calico skirt. “We’ll just have to call these an ‘I love you’ gift.”

“Candy!” Jaya rocked side to side while Nell handed out the candy.

“You’re welcome. But you have to go straight to your papa for permission.” Nell glanced toward one of the canvas tent cabins that dotted the area. “Can I trust you to do that?”

Jocelyn was the first to nod. “Yes ma’am. Thank you.” She reached behind her sisters and nudged each of them in the back.

“Yes ma’am,” Jaya said.

Vivian felt herself grimace. Jocelyn reminded her of Ida. Always doing the right thing and expecting it of others. Another reminder that not going to Ida for a job had been the right choice. Vivian was destined to be a disappointment, and there was too much at stake to see it in Ida’s eyes every day.

“Yeth ma’am.” Julia’s pigtails danced. “Thank you.”

Vivian followed Nell’s lead and waved as the girls scrambled toward their shanty like cats after a mouse.

“I need to ask Doc Susie about Julia’s speech impediment.” Nell turned away from the girls, toward the sound of a running creek. “Having just come from medical school, our woman doctor may know of new treatments or exercises that could help.”

Nell stopped outside a mud-chinked log cabin nestled in a clump of oak trees.

“Miss Nell.” The voice sounded flat. A woman whose face bore lines far beyond her years peered out from an open flap window. “You brought someone with you?”

“My sister, Vivian.”

“Welcome. Please come in.”

Nell opened the door and they stepped inside. The one-room cabin was sparse but clean, with only a rocker, a straight-back chair, a crate table, and a rope-bed in the living area. Eleanor stood at the simple table, wringing her hands.

“You don’t look well. Should I find Doc Susie?” Nell asked.

The widow shook her head, her lips pressed.

“Perhaps a gift will cheer you up, then.” Nell held the package out to her. “I brought you something.”

Eleanor stared back with watering eyes.

“For the baby,” Nell said.

A tear trickled down the widow’s ashen cheek. Vivian understood warring emotions, and it was obvious Eleanor was waging an epic battle.

“Let’s sit down.” Nell pulled out a chair and waited for Eleanor to ease herself into it. The girl’s belly was so round, it was hard to believe she had another month until the baby’s birth. When they were all seated, Nell slid the package across the table to Eleanor.

Her fingers trembling, Eleanor dragged the strings off the wrapping and laid it open. She stared at the blanket. “You need to keep it.”

Nell looked at Vivian first, her brow furrowed, then at the widow. “I don’t understand. You don’t like the blanket? I knitted it special for your little one.”

“I’m going to wed.”

Nell tapped her thumbs. “You’re getting married?”

Eleanor nodded and pulled a telegram from the pocket on her apron. “I knew Douglas in Philadelphia. Our families lived in the same neighborhood. He heard about Lars’s death and has asked me to marry him.”

Nell was the Sinclair family romantic, so why wasn’t she offering the woman her well-wishes? Instead, a frown dulled the freckles bridging her nose. “Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

Eleanor tucked a thread of brown hair behind her ear. “This is what’s best. Douglas will wire the money for my trip home.” She stared at the gift. “The baby won’t be going with me.”

Nell gasped. “What? You can’t mean that. A baby is a gift from God. It’s your baby … a part of the husband you loved and lost.”

Eleanor sniffled and folded her hands. “I can’t stay here alone. I can’t work with a baby to care for.” She drew in a quick breath. “I need to marry, and—”

“He doesn’t want the baby?” Heat burned Vivian’s ears.

Eleanor shook her head. “Douglas is a good man. I know he’ll treat me well.” She drew in a deep breath. “I must do what is right for all of us.”

Nell groaned and covered her mouth with a trembling hand. Vivian swallowed against a lump of emotion in her own throat. It wasn’t hard to imagine Nell’s confusion. Not only had God chosen to give Eleanor and not Nell a baby, but now the widow didn’t even want her child.

“I want my baby to have a mother and father who can welcome it with open arms and open hearts,” Eleanor said. “Parents and kin who will cover it with love.”

“You’re giving your baby away?” Nell asked.

Eleanor bit her top lip. “I want you to take my baby.” She slid the blanket across the table to Nell and looked her directly in the eye. “Your baby. I want you to keep the baby as your own.”