Loving Eliza (20 page)

“See?” Ralph inserted.  “I told you.”

Daphne shook her head.  “But John came by looking for you.  It was obvious that he was upset that you left his place.  And there has been talk-”

“Talk?  What kind of talk?”

“Nothing much really, but a few people said you two looked happy together and then he came by to tell me he loved
you and needed to break off his
engagement to me.”

“But that’s because he didn’t know you.  He’s never spent time with any woman.  I was only there to help him with his place.  I never gave him reason to think I’d marry him.”

“A wise move,” Ralph muttered under his breath.

Charity and Bethany nodded.

Eliza ignored them. 
“Anyway, I knew you were his mail-order bride, and I respected that.  Beli
eve me, I don’t want to come
between you
two
.”

“
I know that,” Daphne replied.  “
But you should understand that I
only met him through two letters.  Actually, his brother, Aaron, wrote on his behalf. 
I had no attachment to him.”

“You should get to know him.  He’s a sweet man, and you’re a sweet woman.  The two of
you
should be together.  He and I just don’
t belong together
.  At least take the time to talk to him.” Eliza caught sight of Troy as he walked down the street.  She cringed.  “Look.  I have to
go
home and lie down.  Please
think about
what I said.”

Before they could respond, she hurried in the opposite direction.  Troy’s intentions were too obvious, and she found the best thing to do was to avoid him altogether.  By the time
she made it back to
the boarding house, she was out of breath.  She was about to run up the steps and hid
e
out in her room when she realized someone sat in the parlor, reading a book.
  She had met all the boarders except for one.

She stepped into the room and wandered over to the bookcase.  Molly had a lot of good books here, and her eyes fell on one by William Shakespeare called
Romeo and Juliet
.  She read the back cover and decided that it sounded like an interesting book.  Two people falling in love despite their feuding families.  She decided she would read it.

As she sat
in
a chair across from the man, she glanced in
his direction.  Her eyes fell on
the title of the book he was reading. 
The Adventures of
Tom Sawyer
by Mark Twain.

“Mister?”

He jerked, as if startled that she spoke to him.  He was an older man, probably in his late forties with graying black hair and a mustache.  He was rather pleasa
nt looking, though she sensed
loneliness in his blue eyes.  With all he
r experiences with men, most
had that same lonely look
, as
if life had done them a wrong turn.  She wouldn’t ask him about his past.  She rarely as
ked men what troubled them
.  Usually, they just came out and told her anyway.

She cleared her throat and motioned to his book.  “I see that you’re reading
The Adventures of
Tom Sawyer
. 
Is it any good?”

After a moment of moving his mouth but not speaking, he finally said,
“Yes, it is
.”

“What is it about?”

“A twelve year old’s adventures
.”

“Oh.”
That didn’t sound very interesting.
  She’d much rather read a love story, like the one in her lap.

“
I’ve read this book five times already, and each time it gets better.”

“Why?”

“I get a better understanding of the characters, like Tom’s aunt and
his
good friend Huck.  Of course, it doesn’t hurt that Tom saw a murder.”

“A murder?” Well, she had to admit that a murder was interesting.

“I shouldn’t spoil it for you, in case you want to read this.”

She nodded. 
Would she read such a book?  Currently, she had two books in her possession that she had read.  One was the Bible and the other was
The Scarlet Letter
. 
The
Scarlet Letter
gave her hope.  If
Hester Prynn
e
could rise above the stain of adultery, then maybe she could rise about the stain of prostitution.  Only, she hoped no one would be putting a big letter on her chest like they did to Hester.  It was bad enough that John now knew her shame.  She knew he wouldn’t tell anyone else.  But
how she wished she’d never had
to tell him!

“Shakespeare is good too,” the man said.

She turned her head in his direction.  “I’m sorry?”

“William Shakespeare.  He’s good too.  My wife never could get into his style though.”

“You’re married.”

“Was.”

Oh.  That’s right.  His wife
passed away
.
  She’d forgotten Molly had told her that. 
That’s why she sensed that he was lonely.
  “That’s a real shame, M
ister.
”

He swallowed and nodded.

She felt bad for him.  The world, it seemed, was full of suffering men.  She guessed women suffered as much but she hadn’t been in the business of catering to them, so she only understood men.  And this man needed a friend but refused to take the initiative to make one.  “Have you met Willy Jafferty?”

“No, but I’ve heard of him.”

“Then you know he als
o lost his wife not too long ago
?
”

“Yes.”

And unlike Willy, he
hadn’t moved on.  And unlike Willy, he would attach himself to the first woman who showed a sincere desire to get to know him.  He was much too vulnerable.  It was written all over his fa
ce.  “I suppose that I should
take this upstairs.”

“What’s your name?”

Slowly standing, she answered, “Miss Sweet.” There, that ought to keep it formal.  A first name was much too personal, and that was the last thing he needed.  If he were to meet a woman, she’d have to be genuinely interested in him.

“My name is Alan Grey.”

“Yes, I know.  Molly told me when I first came here.”
Before he could ask for her first name, she said, “I have a headache.  I must rest.”

She hurried out of the room and up the steps, relieved that she didn’t make m
atters worse
.  The last thing she needed was to cause another man grief.  After she entered her room, she shut the door and leaned agains
t it
, clutching the book to her chest.  She closed her eyes
, wishing she could stay there for the rest of her life.

***

The next day, Eliza lugged the chair up the narrow, wooden steps.

“Don’t get one scratch on it or it co
mes out of your wages!” Harriet
yelled at her from the bottom of the staircase.

Eliza grunted but pressed forward, holding the chair above the next step so she wouldn’t scrape it.  She paused for a moment to make sure her footing was steady before she moved forward.

“Can’t you go any faster?  I’m not getting younger, you know!”

“
Shut up, you old hag
,” Eliza muttered
under her breath, tired of the woman’s constant nagging.

“What’d you say?”

As she made it to the top step, she exhaled and wiped her forehead with her blister
ed hand.  She turned to Harriet
who glared up at her.  “Nothing.”

“Hmm
...” The woman obviously didn’t believe her by the cynical look on her face.  “Well, set it in my bedroom and then come down for the ottoman.”

Gritting her teeth, she picked up the chair and lugged it to the old bat’s bedroom which hadn’t been aired out in over a hundred years, or at least that’s how it smelled.  Once she set it on the rug by the window, she leaned over it and struggled to catch her breath.

Her stomach growled.  It was lunch time, and again, she had to skip breakfast so she wouldn’t use up the remaining funds she had.  She kept care
ful track of her expenses.  I
f she didn’t have to eat, she wouldn’t have any problems...minus her broken heart.

How she missed John.  She missed him so much that it hurt.  Did Daphne talk to him?  Did the two work things out?  Groaning, she closed her eyes and willed the memory of John’s kisses from her mind.  She couldn’t continue on in regrets.  She’d made that her goal.  Always press forward.  Never look back.  Don’t waste time on what if’s.  It never did any good.

She forced back her tears and stood up.  Taking a deep breath to steady her emotions, she returned to the parlor and brought the ottoman up.  Harriet had disappeared but the question was where
to.  When she got back downstairs, she called out for her.

“In here, if you really must know,” Harriet snapped.

Biting back a retort she’d once heard a farmer use, she walked to the kitchen and saw that Harriet
was eating a sandwich.  Her mouth watered
.  Licking her lips, she smoothed her hands on her dress.  “I got the furniture upstairs like you wanted.” She watched as the woman took a large bite of the food.  “May I please have something to eat?”

The woman frowned at her.  “I told you that you need to find your own food.  I’m not a grocer.”

She gritted her teeth.  She understood why Harriet had a hard time keeping employees, but all of her efforts to find other employment over the weekend had failed, so whether she liked it or not, she was stuck with the miserable old coot.  That, naturally, meant she couldn’t retaliate.  Sadly, even her bosses at the saloon weren’t as mean to her as Harriet was.  John, however, had been the best person she’d ever worked for.  If only he could have kept things professional.  If only
she
had kept things professional
!

Maybe if he married Daphne, she could go back and work for him. 
No.  That would never work.  She loved him and couldn’t go back to how things were, no matter how much she wanted to...or didn’t want to.  She took a deep breath and settled her thoughts.  Right now she needed money.  She had to pay her rent for the next week, and that left her with only enough to eat at the restaurant for three more days if she ordered one of the cheapest items on the menu.

Directing her gaze on Harriet who finished up her sandwich, she asked, “May I get my pay, please?”

The woman groaned.  “You shouldn’t bother a woman while she’s eating.  Give me a moment and I’ll get your wages.”

Good.  Five dollars would solve the bulk of her problem.  Maybe she could get dessert this time.

Her employer took a final gulp of water and took her things to the sink.  “Clean the dishes and I’ll be back.”

Excited to be getting paid, Eliza readily obeyed.  When she finished, Harriet returned.  She tried not to seem too eager for her pay.  That wasn’t a good thing for an employee to do
, but her growling stomach was d
oing flip flops over the notion of eating something at the restaurant.

Harriet handed her some coins.

The amount didn’t feel heavy enough to equal $5.  Eliza counted the change.  “But this is $3.50.”

“Right.”

She licked her lips.  “We agreed on $5.”

“I agreed to pay you $5 for your work.”

“Yes.”

“Well, those two men came over to help you take my stuff out of the attic, and then they came by the next day to help you clean up the yard.”

“Because you had some
things
that
were heavy and I didn’t know how to
drive a wagon.”

“Still, they did that work.  As far as I’m concerned, they should get the remaining $1.50.”

Fifty cents for one week’s worth of food?  “But I need $4 so Molly will let me have room and board.  Otherwise, I pay her $3 and have to find another source of food.  I don’t see how I can manage on fifty cents.”

“Then don’t have other people help you do your job.”

“Well...” She struggled not to whack the woman on the head with the rolled up newspaper resting on the table in front of her.  “I mean...Can I have an extra fifty cents this week and then tak
e $4 next week?”

“No.  I don’t lend money out ahead of time.  How do I know you won’t take my money and not do the work?  You work first and then get paid.”

“May I do something else to earn some food for here?”

“No.  I don’t reward people who can’t watch their funds.  If you don’t have enough money, then that’s your fault.  Not mine.  I scrimped and saved my entire life, and I learned how to make money last.  This will do you good.”