What Once We Loved (33 page)

“You said I should settle in, and I finally have,” Mazy told her.

“Digging in is different than settling, I'll ponder,” Elizabeth said. “Even dirt needs to lie fallow some to grow richer crops. Time you had a little fallowing. You come with us.” And so Mazy had.

Elizabeth stood nearly a foot taller than Gus, but it didn't seem to hamper their enthusiasm for the music. Mazy couldn't remember when
her mothers eyes had sparkled so, couldn't imagine that she'd ever seen that round face framed by curls damp from the combination of both levity and love.
Love? Was her mother in love?
Mazy pushed that thought from her mind.

Had her parents ever gone dancing? Mazy didn't think so. It was something new her mother discovered in this western landscape.

Mazy declined the dance requests she received. Instead, she placed herself behind the table, serving lemonade from one glass bowl, hot cider from another, and helping two single women at an adjoining table with their eggnog supply. It gave her an opportunity to be a part of things, but still under her control. She smiled at that admission. That was her, all right. Always wanting control.

Well, at least she was participating, wasn't hiding herself away. And she did enjoy seeing people spirited and happy, getting acquainted with new families arriving daily, talking books and business with the owner of yet another bookstore—number five for Shasta City. Thomas Maupin stood off to the side. He owned a big farm in Bald Hills, and word had it he wanted to bring in hundreds of hogs. That made her think of her dog, Pig. Whatever could have happened to him? Sometimes not knowing was worse than a bad answer.

She watched the dancers, her
eyes
catching the children at the edges giggling and imitating their elders. Her foot tapped to the fiddle and the accordion. She nodded when addressed, chatted easily with a stranger or two as she handed them a cup to sip. She wouldn't have done this back in Wisconsin, not made herself be a part of what she didn't always find comfortable. She would have judged herself too unkindly, said she “didn't do well with new people” or “took up too much space” with her “ampleness.” But it was good to stretch herself a bit, to make herself do things that didn't harm, but challenged. She thought of her dream of her friend in Wisconsin asking her if she was in service. Being here, handing out eggnog—was that service?

“You're looking quite thoughtful this evening, Mrs. Bacon.” Mazy
turned to face Charles Wilson. “You're so obviously occupied with doing good works here,” Charles said, “that I hate to intrude. But what would a Twelfth Night Dance be without a turn with the most beautiful woman present?”

“And your gout…?”

He lifted his boot slightly, the new leather sole barely scuffed. “Healing nicely. Your concern is well taken.”

He was a handsome man in an odd sort of way, that ear chunk and all. But like discovering a spider, his appearance made her wary. Mazy turned to stare out at the dance floor. The fiddler had taken a break, and she welcomed the flock of hot dancers seeking respite with eggnog. “Oh, looks like I'm back to work,” she told him. “Perhaps another time.”

“Let me help you,” he said. “Lovely ladies, please forgive my intrusion.” The two women at the eggnog table, sisters, Mazy thought they might be, stepped out of his way, grinning behind their fingers and flashing knowing looks at Mazy.

That was all she needed, some wretched rumor that Charles Wilson was sweet on her. It was bad enough he came out to check on “milk production.”
Milk production.
The only production he had in mind had nothing to do with cow's milk but milking someone else for all they might be worth.

She scanned the crowd for her mother, glad for once that her height helped her see across heads to find the gray curls and pink cheeks. Mazy raised her chin, trying to catch her mother's eye, but she couldn't. Elizabeth was having maybe just a little too much fun, Mazy thought. After all, she was a woman nearly fifty. What did she think, laughing and clasping arms with that man anyway? Elizabeth fanned herself with her handkerchief as the little German leaned his head in as if to tell her a confidence. Her mother threw her head back and laughed. Why, Elizabeth might have a heart attack or something, with her age and her weight.

Mazy squinted. Had her mother been losing weight? Perhaps she was ill. She needed to take care of herself a little better.

Mazy spilled lemonade on her hand, apologized to the person she was handing the cup to, felt Charles Wilson press against her arm as he reached to serve someone else. She heard a woman say, “Isn't it lovely to see a man so helpful?” Mazy nodded, looked up in time to see Gus's hand on her mother's elbow as he wove her not toward her table but toward the outside door.

“It seems your mother's found a way to enjoy the evening,” Charles said. “Like mother, like daughter?” he said, raising one eyebrow.

“Yes,” Mazy said, placing a cup of eggnog firmly in his hands. “I could certainly use some fresh air.”

Esther and Esty's unveiling stunned Suzanne into silence. “You must say nothing,” Esther said.

“How many?” Seth asked finally.

“So far, six of them,” Esty said.

“We might have helped more, but each time…each time there was a change, a move from the boardinghouse, Mr. Powder…it set us back,” Esther said. “We had to find new routes, new places to get them to safety. Only short interruptions,” Esther soothed.

Suzanne pressed her fingers to her lips. “But how did you…what got you started?”

“When I saw what I had brought the Celestials into,” Esther said. “There were so many here, young girls, all being…used. I was sure God had not allowed me to be a part of something so vile. And then I felt he answered by showing what I could do that would make a difference. Be his hands in this place. If I had not come…” She cleared her throat. “Mei-Ling helps us, but she and A-He are fearful now too. Most girls are sickly, and then they're tossed aside like garbage, ravaged by dogs or tossed to the rivers. If we find them quickly, we get them well.”

“That's how I became involved,” Esty said.

“You don't make hats?”

“Oh. Yes. I do. We all work. But Esther thought she saw your friend Naomi. It was in an area not far from my shop, so Esther and I began working together. I have kept my eyes open for her. Today…1 thought I might have seen Naomi again. I have a back room where Esther brings medicine at night. When she works at the theater.”

“Sometimes, at the old boardinghouse, we had the stable to hide them. Esty took one girl by steamer to San Francisco, telling the captain that she was her servant, but it was to get her out, into Portland, Seattle, where she would have a better chance than with the Chinese leaders here. And there have been others. We give them money and hope.”

“So it is both costly and dangerous,” Suzanne said. “And my moving about. Moving us about. It disrupted—”

“You didn't know,” Esther said. “There is no end to the suffering. No end. But nothing is impossible with God.”

Suzanne couldn't seem to concentrate. She wanted to be a part of what Esther was about, wasn't sure how she could be. And then she found herself thinking only of Seth. He'd been so silent throughout this revelation.

Seth left then, to attend to his affairs, he said. Suzanne hadn't been brave enough to ask which ones. She hoped he had business details to wrap up before he committed to what Esther proposed. She pushed aside the thoughts that his gambling that everyone whispered about was still a part of his life. It was none of her business, she'd decided. He'd been sworn to secrecy whether he participated or not. She was sure he'd honor that.

Seth told her some days later that mistletoe still hung in the hallway. She fluttered her hands at her throat, must have blushed. “I hung it there myself,” he said.

“Where exactly?” she said. “So I can avoid it.”

“Hmmm,” he said. “That's one request I'll only partially comply with. Its right here,” he said and moved her shoulders so she stood in an airy place she knew to be the archway between the parlor and the hall. And then he'd kissed her.

She knew he would. And yet the startle of it, the sweetness of his lips on hers sent tingles to her toes. His mustache pricked against her upper lip. The kiss was so different from Zane Randolphs kiss to her. She shivered with the thought. It was more as Bryce's had been, and she felt herself sink in.

“I could not resist, dear lady,” Seth whispered. “Forgive me.”

“You'll think me a brazen woman if I don't.” She stepped back, straightened the cane at her wrist.

“Think of you as brazen? Never. Oops!” Seth said, stepping away. “Blasted cats. Where did that one come from?” Suzanne giggled. Seth cleared his throat. “Did you know that mistletoe grows wild in the oaks in Oregon? It's true,” he said when she shook her head no. “It's true.” His voice changed, the words coming deeper and more slowly. “I thank the good Lord for giving us mistletoe, or I might never have found the courage to kiss you, Suzanne Cullver.”

“You, lacking courage?” she said. She made herself seek his eyes, could feel the softness of his breath as he moved closer again. She felt herself aching to stay in the comfort of his chest, his arms—

“There's certainly no courage in taking advantage of a blind woman,” Sterling Powder said from the hall.

Suzanne felt Seth move back from her as her hands fluttered at the lace ruffle at her hips and smoothed the silk at her throat.

“Holiday celebration,” Seth said.

“Indeed,” Sterling Powder said. Then to Suzanne Sterling said, “I believe the time has come for me to submit my notice of intent to leave. I realize this is not the best of times, during a
celebration.
However, I've found it difficult to speak with you of late, you being so occupied.”

“Leave? But why?” Suzanne asked. “Haven't you enjoyed your work? The boys? Please dont go.” She reached out for his arm, waved in the air before her. “Claytons made such progress. Shall I pay you more? Is that it then?”

“The money is sufficient,” he'd snapped. Then more calmly added, “I simply find my teaching approach challenged by the many intrusions and distractions the boys must endure. Clayton needs consistency. A regimen that must be honored daily.”

“You're referring to me,” Seth asked.

“No, no,” Suzanne said. “Its the move and all. We're just getting settled in, Mr. Powder. And the holidays have distracted. Things will be more orderly now,” Suzanne said. “I promise.”

“I fear you will always seek distractions,” Sterling Powder said. “There was no need for this new home. No need for disorder to present itself. People with…impairments need everyday patterns and habits. That concept appears to challenge you, Mrs. Cullver.”

“Maybe it's all those cats around that distract,” Seth said.

“The boys like them. Master Clayton calms when he pets the calico, and his words come more easily then, not that a man of your experience would understand. He'll miss them, I'm sure, now that the dog has abandoned you. Regretful, that. His leaving and now mine are just trials you'll have to bear,” Sterling said. “But fortunately, you have good help, and you do seem to appreciate the challenge of change.”

Suzanne felt herself blush with the truth of his words. He just couldn't leave, not now, not when the boy was at the threshold. She had to do something to change his mind. Suzanne felt the old irritation, anxiety, and frustration that once drove people from her just when she wanted their help. Had she somehow done that now? She'd have to concentrate.

“We can work something out,” Seth said.

“What?” she said. “I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention.”

“And therein lies the problem,” Sterling Powder said, sounding as firm as a final curtain.

“What is the problem?” Suzanne said. “Tell me and I'll fix it.”

“You're not the problem, is all I'm saying,” Seth said.

“And you would know, sir, about the training and teaching of young men without speech?” Sterling Powder challenged. “I think not.” “I know a rude speaker when I meet one,” Seth said. “Stop it!” Suzanne said, her hands to her ears. “Just stop it. Please.” “If my being here is a problem, Suzanne, I'll just be heading out.