Loving Eliza (22 page)

“Thank you, Miss Sweet.  That’s very nice of you.” He turned to leave but saw the book she’d thrown across the room a week ago and picked it up.  “Is this
Romeo and Juliet
?”

“Yes,” she weakly replied.  “It’s a horrible story.”

He chuckled.  “My wife didn’t care much for it either.  She said if a book didn’t have a happy ending, then it wasn’t worth reading.  I can return this to the parlor, if you’d like.”

“Please do.”

“Good night, Miss Sweet.  I hope you feel better in the morning.”

As soon as he left and closed her door, s
he released her breath, unaware that she’d been holding it.  That was close.  Much too close.  Slipping out of her dress, she slid into bed and pulled the covers over her head.  It was still hot out, but she shivered anyway and she couldn’t tell if it was from hunger or fear that she’d almost given into the temptation to sell her body for a piece of bread.
  She spent the rest of the night crying fitfully in her sleep.

***

During her lunch half hour the next day, Eliza decided to visit with Addy to see if A
ddy might extend an invitation f
o
r
supper.  She didn’t want to ask.  It was preferable to let Addy make the offer.  That way
,
Addy wouldn’t worry about her.

When Eliza knocked on Addy’s front door, she noticed that Troy was walking in her direction.  She inwardly groaned and pretended that she didn’t see him.  She knocked on the door, using more force than necessary.

But Addy didn’t answer, and Eliza had no choice but to offer a polite greeting as Troy caught up to her.  “Good afternoon, Mister Evans.”

He smiled and adjusted his hat.  “You can call me Troy.  I’d like to think we know each other well enough to be on a first name basis.”

She didn’t.  Not really. 
Unsure of whether her queasy stomach stemmed from being near him or being unbearably hungry, she took deep breaths to steady it.  “What brings you out this way?”

“I’m running an errand for my boss.”

She nodded and started walking down the dusty road.  As much as she loathed the idea of returning to Harr
iet’s house, especially when Harriet
was
eating, Eliza felt a desperate need to get away from Troy.  She thought that the strange sensation would leave as she got to know him, but it only grew stronger.

If there was one thing she wasn’t, it was stupid.  She’d had the same eerie feeling with her uncle before he slipped into her bed.  She’d brushed off the notion then.  Now, she knew better.
  She wrapped her arms around herself to thwart the trembling of her body.  Her uncle had liked her fear.  He seemed to thrive off of it.  The last thing she wanted was to give Troy that kind of power over her.

Thank God it was daylight and people were around them.  It was the only thing that prevented her from
running off in a panic.  She willed the past back to where it belonged. 
Think of positive things, Eliza.  Positive things.  Don’t let your circumstances control you. 
Overcome
them.
  As long as she didn’t give up, she’d survive.  She’d keep pressing on.  She wouldn’t end up like the prostitute who killed herself.  The reminder settled her nerves.  She was still alive, and that counted for something.

Troy kept his pace even with hers.  “I’m going to Marshal Custer’s house for supper tonight.  Would you like to be my guest?”

She halted in mid-step.  Food.  Her mouth watered at the very thought of it.  If she ate tonight, she’d be able to get through tomorrow without eating.  Then she might get an invite to Addy’s place.  That would settle her complaining stomach until Harriet paid her for the full wages.  Eliza had been good this time.  She’d been watching to make sure she did everything exactly the way Harriet wanted it done.  For sure, she’d get the $5.

All she had to do was eat with Troy for one night.  And it was in Charity’s home where other people would be.  It wouldn’t be like she’d have to be alone with him.  Wasn’t it much better than sleeping with Alan for money?  Going to dinner with Troy wasn’t a sin.  And it would be once.  Just once.

“What time should I be there?” she asked, peering up at him.

“I’ll pick you up at 6:15.  Supper is at 6:30.”

She nodded.  “Alright.”

His smile
widened.

Shivering, she looked away.  She hoped she didn’t just make a mistake.  “I should get back to Mrs. Lube.  She won’t like it if I’m late.”

Without waiting for him to walk with her, she bolted down the road, feeling almost like she was running from a part of her past that was about to rear its ugly head.
  It wasn’t until she opened the door to Mrs. Lube’s house and saw that he hadn’t followed her that she allowed herself to relax.

***

John ret
urned home after he finished repairing the staircase in the Hallows’ house.  He checked the small house that Eliza used to inhabit while she stayed on his property, but she wasn’t there.  Why
should he expect her to be?  She wasn’t
there
any of the other times he’d checked. She didn’t even want to see him.  He sighed.  Maybe it was time he gave up and let her go.

As much as the thought pained him, he realized that he couldn’t keep going to town and hoping she’d see him when she did everything she could to avoid him.  He’d catch glimpses of her, but she remained out of his reach.  Just when he thought he could reach her, she seemed to vanish.

He rubbed his chest, thinking that doing so would somehow ease the ache that was his constant companion.  His brother Aaron had been out to see him and assured him that the heartache would ease over time.  And when John was ready, Aaron promised to send out another list of women seeking men to marry.  But Aaron didn’t get it.  John decided that he’d spend the rest of his life alone.  There’d never be anyone but Eliza
for him
.

His shoulders drooped as he made his way to the shed.  He had to get the jewelry box finished for Charity.
  Her husband requested it as a gift, and though it was difficult to make it, he decided it was time to finish it so he could work on the cabinet that the preacher wanted.  He sat at his work table and picked up his tool to carve in the images of doves and hearts that the marshal had specifically requested
to
go on it.  John wished he was making something this nice for Eliza.  A gift from a husband to his wife.  Some
thing to demonstrate his love for
her.  He swallowed and brushed back a tear so he could focus on the lines he was carving into the wood.

A loud tapping on his door interrupted his thoughts.  For a moment, he wondered if it was Eliza but quickly realized she didn’t knock like that.  He glanced over his shoulder and saw Troy saunter into the small building.  Disappointed, he turned back to his work.

“That’s a fine welcome for your brother,” Troy said.

John didn’t bother to acknowledge the statement.  Maybe they were blood, but it didn’t make them friends.

“
You deaf on top of be
ing stupid and mute
?”

John traced the outline of the dove.  No.  He wouldn’t let Troy’s words bother him.  His brother got a sick and twisted pleasure out of watching him get upset.

Troy picked up the nearly completed jewelry box and examined it.  “At least there’s one thing you’re good at. 
Pa would actually be proud.”

John grabbed the box and glared at him.

He shook his head and shrugged.  “Now don’t get upset.  I was complimenting you.  At least you can make a living.  It beats begging for food on the corner of a street or bumming off someone else’s hard work.  But that’s not why I came.  I thought you might like to know that the ma
rshal wants that fancy box by
tonight.  There’s
going to be
a spe
cial supper at his house
.”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes.  He should be glad.  The sooner he dropped this off, the sooner he wouldn’t have to deal with the marshal...until the man needed something else from him.

“Be there around six.  You do know when to tell it’s six on the clock, don’t you?”

Gritting his teeth, he stood up and yanked out his pocket watch and pointed to the six.  Then he pointed to his temple.

Troy chuckled.  “It has nothing to do with your head, but I get the message.”

John took the pencil that he used to draw his designs and wrote on a piece of paper,
I am smart.
  Then he shoved it at Troy.

For a moment, Troy looked worried but then quickly threw the paper down and clapped.  “Good for you. 
You can write just like a kid in grade school.  The dinner starts at six-thirty.  The marshal wants to surprise his wife, so make it between six-thirty and seven.”

As he left, John resisted the urge to punch him.  He slowly inhaled and exhaled while he flexed his hands.  Violence never solved anything.  He knew this.  But once...just once...he’d love to make Troy admit that he was smart.

He’s not worth it.
  He sat down and glanced out his window, making sure that Troy was leaving.  Good.  He was.  John turned to the jewelry box.  One look at the pocket watch notified him that he’d better hurry.  Three hours wasn’t that far away.

E
liza noticed the smell of food b
efore she noticed the
large group of people who had gathered at Charity’s house that evening.
  In some ways, it worked to her benefit.  She could easily mingle with more people, which meant she had more chances to get away from Troy.  She supposed she should feel guilty for using Troy to get a good meal, but she was too hungry to adequately care.  Ever since she agreed to come here tonight, she’d been unable to think of anything but food.  What kind of food would Charity serve?  She remembered how Charity and Bethany expressed their desire to have some of the “finer dishes from back east” after their arrival at their new home.  She couldn’t help but be curious as to what those “finer dishes” were...and if they succeeded.

Her stomach did its relentless growl, and Eliza was grateful that the ring of laughter floating from the front porch hid this embarrassing fact from everyone else.  She took a deep breath and willed her slight nausea aside.  She had to sit down or get something to eat soon or else she’d get dizzy.  Her first choice, of course, was to eat.

As Troy followed
her
up the porch steps, she caught a glimpse through the window and saw that
Charity, Bethany, and Daphne were passing around
hor
devours
.
The only reason she knew that’
s what the finger foods were called was because she’d had some wealthy customers who’d hired her for their weekend excursions out of Omaha where no one knew she was a prostitute.  Instead, the customers referred to her as their daughter or wife.

At the reminder of her past, she blinked and looked away from the activity inside the house.  Whether parts of this meal were going to bring up unpleasant memories or not, she didn’t care.  The point was she managed to avoid falling into temptation the previous evening, and glancing at Bethany who laughed at something Alan Grey said made her grateful
that
she’d been able to do that.  He’d be happie
r this way.  And thank goodness
God had granted her an honest meal in exchange.  She didn’t even bother to wonder where her next meal would come from.  She’d just focus on taking it one day at a time like she’d learned to do after her parents died.

“Well, if it isn’t Eliza and Troy.”

She glanced over her shoulder as Willy bounded up the steps.

“I didn’t expect to see you two together,” Willy continued.

“Really?  Why?” Troy asked.

He shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I guess it’s because I got used to seeing her with John.”

She breathed a sigh of relief when Daphne came onto the porch carrying a tray full of strawberries, cheese, and apple slices.  They wouldn’t exactly fill up her eager stomach but at least they were a start.