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Authors: Judith Pella,Tracie Peterson

Westward the Dream (22 page)

BOOK: Westward the Dream
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“No.” Victoria stared with shame down at her hands. “I can't. I can't bear to know the truth—even though I'm already certain of it.”

“Perhaps you should refrain from judging Kiernan's heart until you give him a chance to speak his opinion. I found with Ted that I often misunderstood his feelings about a family. He has always wanted children; that much is true. But he also enjoys the vagabond life we live. He would be hard-pressed to continue dragging from one end of the country to the other with a baby along.”

“But he would probably be happy to settle down if there were a child,” Victoria replied.

“And you think that of Kiernan, as well, don't you?”

Victoria nodded. “He's just so restless. I sometimes see him look at me as though he wants to say something, then he turns away and the moment is lost. I know I've driven him away by being less than what a good wife should be.”

“Nonsense!” Anna declared. “Victoria, you have been a good helpmate to your husband. You have followed him willingly around the country, you have cooked and cleaned for him, you have borne his moods and his transgressions, you have been his lover and friend. No man could ask for more.”

“Oh yes he could,” Victoria replied. “He could ask for a child. Kiernan deserves a child.”

“And you believe that just because you've been unable to bear him one, God is somehow remiss in His duties?”

Victoria shrugged. “I don't know what to think. I thought I had a strong faith in God. I thought I understood about trusting Him and living a good life, but now I just don't know. Now I'm confused and I wonder if my faith is even real.”

“Faith is like a flower in the garden. It needs a certain amount of growing time to come to its fullest potential. You are simply in a time of growth. Don't let it defeat you. Instead, you must find a way to thrive—to see that faith is more than understanding your circumstances: it's enduring in spite of them. Believing that the circumstances aren't necessarily indicative of the final outcome.”

Victoria dabbed at her eyes. “You don't think me to be a lost cause, do you, Anna?”

Anna laughed. “No more than I consider myself to be. These are but momentary trials. The bad comes with the good, but it will pass. You'll see. You must simply let go of your fears and trust God for the outcome. And,” she paused to reach out and hug Victoria affectionately, “you must open your heart to Kiernan and tell him of your worries. Don't keep this wall of fear between you.”

24

With the stunning news that Kiernan would soon be bound for Dutch Flat with Charlie Crocker, Victoria also received word of a celebration party. Collis Huntington, ever hard at work in Washington, had managed to persuade the president to set the transcontinental railroad at a five-foot gauge. This was exactly what the Central Pacific had hoped for, because track already laid by the Sacramento Valley Railroad, as well as track graded out for the CP, had a width of five feet. Very few had believed Huntington could pull it off, since many of the eastern railroads had settled on a four-foot, eight-and-a-half-inch gauge. If they set the gauge at five feet, many railroads would either have to change gauges in order to hook up with the Union Pacific, or they would have to hand over their freight at the places where one line ended and another began. Either way, it would mean a tremendous loss of revenue.

But Californians had confidence in Collis Huntington, and because their man had managed to secure the needed width and save California railroads from having to rethink their plans, they decided a party was in order.

Victoria, still moping because of Kiernan's news, felt a party would do little to help bolster her spirits. She had convinced herself that Kiernan had actually sought this transfer to another location in order to be away from her.

“I'm not the wife he wants,” she mourned aloud. Looking out from their second-floor apartment window, Victoria longed to share her fears with Anna. Her friend would understand and say the right thing to help Victoria see that all her fears were for naught. But Anna was busy making preparations to attend the celebration. She'd already brought Victoria another of her old gowns, insisting that Victoria and Kiernan attend the party that night. There had been no time to talk of Kiernan's leaving or Victoria's sorrow.

Instead, Victoria had done what was expected and had donned the hand-me-down. The gown, looking anything but old, had been made over for Victoria's slimmer frame. The dark apricot taffeta was the epitome of fashion with its huge bell-shaped skirt and off-the-shoulder bodice. Anna had even thought to lend her a hoop to wear beneath the shiny folds of the skirt. Victoria loved the way it fit and felt—loved, too, the way it reminded her of happier days long gone by.

Unfortunately, dwelling on those days only served to make her miserable. She had been so naïve, so young and carefree. How was it possible to have gone from that point to this one? It seemed she had lived life by extremes. She remembered when her father and mother had moved the family from Baltimore to Greigsville in order for her father to supervise the building of the Kingwood Tunnel. She had immediately hated the horrid little town—if a person could even apply that grandiose name to such an insignificant collection of tents and unpainted buildings.

But it was there she had met Kiernan. Suddenly, Greigsville hadn't seemed so bad. Kiernan had been exciting and handsome—everything a young girl's heart could desire. He talked of foreign lands, of noble causes, and of love.

Now he seldom talked of love. He seldom talked of anything.

Victoria turned from the window to continue dressing, desperate to put such thoughts from her mind, but she knew it was an impossible battle. Every day she grew more silent, and every day Kiernan grew more distant. Erected between them were issues that neither one wanted to deal with. It was easier to refortify the wall with painful thoughts than to tear the thing down by speaking honestly to each other.

Quite frankly, Victoria was scared to death by what Kiernan might say. If she brought up the issue of her fears—and her belief that he had distanced himself because of her inability to get pregnant—he just might confirm her beliefs. Then what? It was one thing to assume he felt that way. It would be entirely different to deal with the painful realization that she had been right all along. What if he wanted a divorce?

Once again she pushed aside these thoughts, forcing herself to concentrate on dressing her chestnut hair. Dark, haunted eyes stared back at her from the mirror of the tiny dressing table. So much was buried behind those eyes, she thought. So many dreams. So many nightmares.

She brushed her hair slowly, all the while contemplating her own reflection. Convinced that she had lost Kiernan, at least in spirit, she felt a desperation grow inside her. What could she do to win him back?

“My, but yar lookin' lovely tonight, Mrs. O'Connor.” Kiernan paused at the bedroom door just to look at her.

Victoria finished securing her hair atop her head, then got to her feet. She wanted very much for this evening to be wonderful. “I might say the same for you, Mr. O'Connor.” She considered his formal attire. He cut a dashing figure in his borrowed clothes. His auburn hair was combed back off his forehead, and his black double-breasted coat seemed to accentuate his broad shoulders and narrow waist.

Victoria smiled in spite of her morose mood. “I've not seen you like this in some time.”

He came forward to where she stood. “Yar a true beauty, Victoria,” he said, reaching out to take her in his arms. “But ya don't need fancy clothes for me to see that.”

Victoria felt encouraged by his words. He seemed more like his old self. Happy, carefree, lighthearted. She could only pray it would last. But with his next words, Kiernan ruined her moment.

“I'm glad yar not still sulkin' about my goin' to Dutch Flat.”

She stiffened in his arms and pulled away. “You didn't need to bring that up. We might have gone on having a pleasant evening without such talk.”

Kiernan looked a bit forlorn at this comment and at her action. Victoria shook her head and went to retrieve her shawl.

“I wasn't tryin' to hurt ya with such talk. I only wanted to say I was happy ya had come to terms with it,” Kiernan said as Victoria moved toward the door.

“I haven't come to terms with that or anything else,” Victoria replied, stepping around Kiernan to go into the main living area of their two-room apartment.

Kiernan followed. “That's fairly obvious now. I suppose I was hopin' ya had.”

His remark sounded caustic to Victoria, but she refused to argue with him. Stopping by the front door, she turned. “Are you ready to go?”

Kiernan eyed her intently for a moment. He looked as though he might say something more, then shook his head and opened the door for her. “I'm sure it wouldn't much matter whether I was ready or not.”

Victoria held her emotions inside, refusing to give in to her frustration and anger. She wanted to have fun this evening, and arguing with Kiernan wasn't going to help.

They walked in silence to the hotel where the celebration was being held. Victoria hated that Kiernan was angry, but she feared what might pass between them if she apologized. She wished Anna could help her figure out a way to deal with Kiernan's decision to leave. Yet if she sought Anna's advice, she knew her friend might insist the younger couple talk openly about their feelings. Victoria was certain that wouldn't work. She and Kiernan would only argue about unimportant matters in order to keep from having to deal with the real issue.

Victoria frowned. A baby was the real issue. If she could only have a child, Kiernan wouldn't feel the need to run off.

They entered the hotel lobby and were instantly swept up into the spirit of revelry. It seemed this group of people looked for any reason to celebrate, and the issue of Collis Huntington's success was no less a reason to party than the ground breaking for the Central Pacific had been.

A group of men immediately moved in to talk to Kiernan. Victoria recognized them, smiled, and made polite conversation with each one before they dragged her husband toward the far side of the room. He didn't seem the least bit reluctant to go with them.

About this time a band struck up, and the center of the room cleared for the dancing to begin. Victoria wished Kiernan might leave his companions and come back to dance with her, but she knew it wouldn't happen. He was absorbed in his railroad work.

“I can't believe that the most beautiful woman in the room is standing idle” came a rich baritone voice from behind her.

Victoria turned around quickly and looked up to find a handsome dark-haired stranger. There was something slightly familiar about him, and it took Victoria only a moment to realize he reminded her of a painting she'd once seen of her real father, Blake St. John. Before Carolina and James Baldwin had adopted her, Blake St. John had been a sporadic presence in her life. She had no memory of him except for the stories told her by others, and only one likeness of him had ever been painted. Even that was now in safekeeping in her parents' house in Baltimore.

“I can see that I've startled you. Perhaps I should start over. I'm Christopher Thorndike. I own Thorndike Emporium and several other small businesses. And you are?” he questioned with just a hint of a smile.

“Victoria O'Connor,” she replied. The way the man looked at her, as if she really were the most beautiful woman in the room, gave her gooseflesh. “
Mrs
. Kiernan O'Connor,” she quickly added.

He bowed low, reached for her hand, and placed a kiss atop it. Victoria felt a tremor run up her arm. She swallowed hard and tried not to appear nervous.

“I wonder if you might do me the honor of a dance. There seems to be a rather pleasant waltz being played.”

She felt helpless to refuse. He was powerful and dynamic, and without giving any thought to what she was doing, Victoria allowed him to lead her to the dance floor.

Before she knew it, they were caught up in first one dance and then another, and it wasn't long before an hour had passed. Victoria realized with no small amount of horror that not only had she danced her first dance with this man but all of the subsequent dances as well.

“I really should go speak to Mrs. Judah,” she said, pulling away from Thorndike. “I fear I shall ruin my reputation if I dare another dance.”

“But I've so enjoyed talking with you. It's been some time since I've been in the company of a lady. I'm so often gone on one trip or another. However, I assure you, had I realized the potential in Sacramento, I might have stayed home more.”

Victoria frowned. Was he implying that she was a potential interest for him? “I need to find my husband,” she murmured and fled in the direction of the refreshment table.

But Kiernan was nowhere to be found. Catching Anna in discussion with several other ladies, Victoria managed to wait until the other women had moved along before questioning her about Kiernan.

“Do you know where my husband might have taken himself off to?” Victoria asked nervously.

Anna laughed, giving no apparent concern to Victoria's behavior. “Where else would he be? The men have congregated in one of the back rooms to discuss railroad business. I swear, the lot of them are a waste of time when they have a project on their minds.” She glanced across the room to take in the dancing couples. “Are you having fun?”

“I suppose I am,” Victoria replied. “I've made the acquaintance of a Mr. Thorndike.”

“Hmm,” Anna said as if trying to recall the name. “I'm not sure I know him.”

“He said he's often gone on business trips. He has even journeyed to the Orient, and his emporium deals in all manner of antiquities and treasures from China.”

“Do say?”

“He also is very interested in the railroad. He's been asking me a lot of questions about the line and thinks he might want to invest in it.”

“Perhaps we should direct him to the back room,” Anna said. “Which man is he?”

Victoria didn't need to search for him. Her mind had never lost track of where he stood amidst the crowd. Even now as she looked up to make certain of his position, she caught his gaze—stern and brooding—fixed on her.

“There,” she whispered, leaning closer to Anna. “The man standing by Mrs. Reems.”

“Ah, a very pleasant-looking gentleman,” Anna replied. “Yes, I do recall seeing you dance with him.”

BOOK: Westward the Dream
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