An Uncertain Dream (18 page)
‘‘For most, but not necessarily everyone.’’
What was that supposed to mean? Was Fred sending her a hidden message that he wasn’t interested in her? She tried to maintain a carefree tone. ‘‘And do you include yourself in that number?’’
‘‘Me? Of course not. I want to marry one day, but Matthew travels a great deal, and he may never want to settle into the day-to-day life of a married man. As for my mother—she’s already been married. Why would she want to do so again?’’
Were all men so naïve or only Fred? Attempting to hide her exasperation, she answered, ‘‘To have someone with whom she can share her hopes and dreams. Someone who is there for her when she feels alone. Age doesn’t erase the need to be loved, Fred.’’
‘‘I know, I know. But I’d at least appreciate the opportunity to discuss the matter with her before she’s ready to accept a marriage proposal.’’
Olivia squeezed his hand. ‘‘I don’t think you need worry about a wedding just yet.’’
‘‘What’s this I hear of a wedding? It’s about time you asked this girl for her hand in marriage,’’ Matthew chortled. ‘‘I thought you’d never get around to it.’’
Fred swiveled around on the bench. ‘‘Where did you come from? I thought you were purchasing lemonade.’’
Matthew pointed to Morgan, sitting with his mother on a nearby bench and downing a glass of the sweet liquid. ‘‘Don’t hold back with the news. We’ll want to put the special day on our calendars.’’
Olivia’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. She peeked at Fred, hoping to gauge his reaction and silently hoping Matthew’s comment would urge him to action.
‘‘We . . . um . . . weren’t discussing
our
wedding plans.’’
‘‘You’re not fooling me, Fred. There’s no need to keep a secret from us. We’re good friends who can maintain a confidence.’’ Matthew turned his attention to Olivia. ‘‘You’ll tell me, won’t you, Olivia?’’
Fred jumped up from the bench. ‘‘We’re not keeping a secret.’’ The band ended their musical selection, but Fred continued to shout. ‘‘I didn’t propose to Olivia.’’ His voice carried like a rumble of thunder on a quiet morning.
Everyone in the area turned to stare at them. Mortified, Olivia grabbed her reticule and flew from the park. The sounds of laughter and hoots of several young boys mocked her as she continued to run. Her hat tipped askew, and her skirt flapped about her legs as if to trip her, but she continued her flight.
‘‘Olivia!’’ Fingers tightened around her arm and jerked her to an abrupt halt.
She attempted to shake herself loose, but Fred tightened his grip.
‘‘Don’t!’’ he panted. ‘‘I’m so sorry. We need to talk.’’ His breath came in uneven spurts, and though she knew he was tired, his hold remained fast.
Olivia doubled forward to ease the stitch in her side. ‘‘There’s nothing more to say. You’ve shouted to the entire town that you don’t plan to marry me.’’
‘‘No! That’s not what I said. Please! Let me explain.’’ He gulped a breath of air and swallowed while still clinging to her arm.
‘‘It
is
what you said,’’ she argued, still attempting to wrest her arm free.
‘‘I said I didn’t propose to you. I didn’t say that I didn’t plan to marry you. I
do
want to marry you.’’
She stared at him in disbelief. His declaration stunned her into a momentary silence, and she took a backward step. ‘‘You
do
? Then why didn’t you say that to Matthew?’’
He nodded toward a large oak a short distance away. ‘‘Could we sit down in the shade?’’
She matched her step to his, and moments later they settled beneath the tree. Olivia folded her hands in her lap. ‘‘You may explain.’’
He grinned. ‘‘I do love you very much, and I want to marry you, but this isn’t at all how I had planned to propose. Nor is it the time when I envisioned asking for your hand.’’
This wasn’t the manner in which Olivia had expected to hear his declaration of love, either, but she couldn’t refrain from pressing him further. ‘‘If you’re certain you love me, exactly how much longer did you intend to wait before you shared your feelings with me?’’
Fred raked his fingers through his hair. ‘‘When the strike is over, when I could purchase a ring and offer you a proper wedding, when I had work that would pay enough to provide for you in a proper manner. I have nothing to offer right now, yet Matthew has forced my hand.’’ He wrapped his arm around one knee and stared into the distance. ‘‘Who knows what will happen with this strike and the depression? I had hoped to wait and speak of marriage when life was more settled.’’ He looked into her eyes and brushed her cheek with his fingertips. ‘‘You do know I love you, don’t you, Olivia?’’
She clasped his fingers in her hand. ‘‘A girl likes to hear the words, Fred. You’ve never before spoken to me of your feelings. As for the ring and a proper wedding—those are of little importance to me. Being certain you truly love me is what matters.’’
He lifted her fingers to his lips and lightly kissed them. ‘‘But surely you knew.’’
‘‘You can be a puzzling man. One minute I believe I understand you, but the next I’m not sure.’’
‘‘Then that means I shall keep our life interesting, doesn’t it?’’
She chuckled. ‘‘I suppose that’s true enough.’’
‘‘Then you’ll marry me? I don’t think we should set a date until the strike is over and I’ve returned to work. But we can announce that we’re engaged if you truly don’t care about a ring.’’ He leaned forward and pulled her into an embrace.
Though she knew that she should have been concerned over the impropriety of a public exhibition of affection, she leaned into his arms and accepted the warmth of his kiss.
When their lips parted, Fred traced his thumb across her lips. ‘‘I love you, Olivia, and I want you to be my wife. I’ve wanted to say that for a long time, but fear of the future has kept me from speaking. Yet now that I’ve asked and you’ve accepted, I’d like to shout it from the rooftops.’’
‘‘I don’t think we need to go quite that far, but we could at least tell your mother and Charlotte.’’
‘‘And Matthew,’’ he added, rising. He extended his hands, helped her to her feet, and chuckled. ‘‘He’ll be delighted to know I’m still speaking to him.’’
Early the next morning, Fred boarded the train for Chicago. His heart thumped beneath his suit jacket in a drumming cadence that seemed to match the rhythm of the train. They traveled the twelve miles in record time. The usual hustle and bustle that passengers had come to expect hadn’t changed, and folks continued on with their normal routines—at least those who remained unaffected by the strike in Pullman.
Young boys hawking newspapers in the train station shouted to prospective customers as they forced their way through the station. Fred glanced at one of the headlines, but he didn’t purchase a paper. He could hear the news that interested him firsthand once he entered the doors of Uhlich Hall.
Several men greeted him as he bounded up the steps to the building. ‘‘Anything taking place yet?’’ Though he knew it was far too early to expect any action, something may have occurred during his absence on Sunday, and he wanted to carry a full report to the men in Pullman.
They shook their heads. ‘‘Mr. Debs is going to address the delegation in about a half hour. He arrived a few minutes ago.’’
Once inside the building, Fred spotted Matthew talking to a young messenger boy. He waited until they finished their conversation and then watched the youngster race out of the building before approaching his friend.
Fred glanced toward the front doors. ‘‘Your informant?’’
‘‘You know I don’t divulge my sources.’’ He chuckled and winked. ‘‘Want to go for a cup of coffee before the meeting begins?’’
‘‘No, thanks. I don’t want to take a chance on missing out on anything. It’s hard to tell if I’m more concerned about today’s meetings or the discovery of what will happen tomorrow if the responses we receive aren’t what we’re hoping for.’’ Fred tucked his straw hat beneath his arm. ‘‘I’ve been praying about every issue and every vote. We’re going to need a miracle to pull us through.’’
‘‘From all reports, I think you’re correct. Guess we’d better get into the auditorium if we’re going to find some seats near the front.’’
The two men made their way down the aisle, stopping here and there along the way to exchange a few words with delegates and spectators. When they finally found two seats in the second row, Mr. Debs had ascended to the stage. Fred dropped into a chair, keeping his sights fixed on their leader and hoping he could gauge something from the older man’s appearance. But as usual, Mr. Debs’s features portrayed a picture of calm.
When he stepped to the podium, the crowd immediately quieted, the hush palpable. He held a sheet of paper between his thumb and forefinger and waved it for a moment.
‘‘Good morning! We have not yet received any definitive word except that the General Managers Association has banded together. They have declared they have no interest in the Pullman strike per se, only as it may affect the railroads and their existing agreements with the Pullman Company.’’
The sound of derisive hoots filled the room. Mr. Debs signaled for the crowd to quiet.
‘‘They state they have been placed in a quandary, for if they refuse to connect the Pullman Palace Cars, they could be subjected to litigation for breach of contract.’’
‘‘So they’ve thrown in with Mr. Pullman?’’ one of the men shouted from the back of the room. ‘‘I’d say there’s no need to wait until tomorrow. We might as well join with the Pullman workers right here and now.’’
Mr. Debs pounded a gavel and called for order. ‘‘No! We have given a certain date, and I intend for the membership of the American Railway Union to honor its word. We are going to conduct ourselves in a manner befitting the membership of this union.’’
The crowd grew quiet and listened while their leader outlined his expectations and prepared the men for the following day. ‘‘If the General Managers Association doesn’t change its position by tomorrow, then the switchmen must refuse to couple any Pullman cars, inspectors must not examine them, and engineers and brakemen must refuse to haul any train carrying a Pullman car. If any worker is discharged, all men on the system must immediately walk out.’’
‘‘
Then
what?’’ one of the men shouted.
‘‘We will direct further strategy from here at Uhlich Hall. Bear in mind that train service will become nonexistent until either George Pullman negotiates or the railroads drop his cars from their trains.’’ Mr. Debs retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his brow. ‘‘Let us pray Mr. Pullman or the managers will come to their senses and sit down at the bargaining table with their employees.’’
Cheers of approval filled the room. For the remainder of the morning, they listened to Mr. Debs and other members of the committee issue their instructions to carry back information to the men they represented. He sent them on their way with the promise that tomorrow would make a mark in history. ‘‘Either Mr. Pullman will negotiate or his cars will sit idle.’’
Matthew’s young messenger stood at the back of the hall, and Matthew signaled to him. The boy hurried to Matthew, who, with his head bent low, listened and then spoke to the lad. The youngster held out his hand, and Matthew reached into his pocket.
Fred stepped forward as the boy sprinted out of the auditorium. ‘‘Any news?’’
‘‘Same as Saturday. Sounds as though they’re not going to relent. I’d say the union members should gird themselves for battle. I doubt this will be pretty.’’ Matthew shook Fred’s hand and nodded toward the door. ‘‘I’ve got to get over to the paper and write my story. See you later?’’
Fred followed along while scanning the crowd. ‘‘I’m going to talk to Mr. Heathcoate and see if he wants me to return to Pullman and call a meeting of the workers. He can remain here in Chicago in case anything new should arise.’’
Matthew donned his hat and stepped toward the front doors. ‘‘I’ll see you tomorrow, then.’’
Olivia didn’t fail to note Mr. Howard’s absence in the dining room that morning. He’d stopped by the hotel only long enough to advise Chef René that the board might reconvene their meetings at the hotel on Tuesday evening. In such an event, the chef should be prepared to serve the men his finest offerings.
When they walked outdoors after the noonday meal, Olivia followed the chef. ‘‘Will Mr. Howard remain in Chicago tonight?’’
‘‘He did not say. I can only guess that his decision will be based upon what occurs today. At least I know the only special guests this evening will be our hotel guests. And they are few in number.’’
Mrs. DeVault bustled out the door and joined them at the bench beneath a cluster of trees. ‘‘My baking duties have lessened since the departure of all those businessmen.’’ She sat down beside the chef. ‘‘I can’t say that I’m not pleased for a bit of a respite.’’
Chef René patted her hand. ‘‘I have pleaded with Mr. Howard to hire another baker, but he is adamant. He says costs must be kept down until the depression and this strike are resolved.’’
Mrs. DeVault swiped the back of her hand across her forehead. ‘‘It could be several years before the depression ends. I doubt I can keep this pace for so long without help.’’ She flashed him a smile. ‘‘But I shall try.’’
‘‘And I’ll lend my assistance whenever possible,’’ Olivia threw in.
‘‘Oui. You must do everything you can to help Hazel. She will soon be your mother-in-law.’’
Olivia chuckled. ‘‘She was my friend before Fred proposed, and I would help her even if he hadn’t asked.’’
One of the kitchen boys stood in the doorway and waved a towel in their direction. ‘‘Chef René , you are needed inside.’’
He pushed his ample body upright. ‘‘Now what?’’ he murmured. ‘‘Excuse me, ladies. I must see to this urgent matter for which I am being summoned. No doubt it is
verrry
important.’’
‘‘I don’t think he’s particularly happy,’’ Olivia remarked, watching the chef cross the grassy expanse to the kitchen door.
Mrs. DeVault shook her head. ‘‘I’ve talked to him incessantly about remaining calm, but it seems to have little effect. I worry about his heart condition. Do you think his agitation is a characteristic of the French, or is it simply René ?’’