He pressed his lips to the palm of her hand. “You doing okay?”
Her eyes misted. “I miss him.”
Sighing, he nodded. “Me, too, Billy girl. Me, too.”
ITALIAN LACE IN WOMAN’S BUILDING31
“Thirty pieces of Italian lace went missing yesterday while you were on the West Side.”
CHAPTER
36
August turned into September and with it came a bit of relief from the heat. Rice had heard about the extra stints Hunter was working and acknowledged them by not only reinstating him to the day shift, but by assigning him to guard priceless paintings in the Art Palace. And now he’d received even better news. It had come just this morning in the form of a cable and lay tucked inside his jacket pocket.
He was up for the position of captain. Old Captain Dunwoody from Company B had decided to retire come the new year and Heywood would be submitting Hunter’s name as a possible successor.
Between his excitement and the hushed atmosphere of the Art Palace, the hours dragged by. He found himself constantly checking his pocket watch in anticipation of his shift ending so he could head to the Woman’s Building and lunch with Billy. Tell her his news.
He’d finally made it over there only to find she was running behind. If she didn’t finish up with her patient soon, they’d miss lunch altogether. Out of habit, he made a circuit of the ground floor. Upon his return, a tall fellow who’d been pacing the entryway earlier was still there. His face was drawn, his brilliantined hair mussed.
“Is everything all right, sir?” Hunter asked.
The man gave him a blank look.
“You’ve been circling this foyer like a squirrel in a cage.” He studied the man. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“No, I’m sorry. I have a . . .” He looked at the door leading to the Bureau of Public Comfort, then back at Hunter, his face perplexed. “The lady I’m with is in the infirmary.”
Hunter smiled. “Is that right? Well, don’t you worry about a thing. The doc in there’s the best of the best.”
“He is? He’s trained, then?”
“Graduated cum laude from the University of Michigan.” Hunter paused. “And it’s a she, not a he.”
The man frowned. “Who’s a she?”
“The doc.”
Jaw slackening, he took a step back. “He’s a she?”
Hunter nodded.
“Do you mean to tell me my lady isn’t seeing a real doctor?” The man’s voice rose.
Hunter narrowed his eyes. “She’s real. And before you say anything else, you probably ought to know she’s my woman.”
The man had enough sense not to make any further comment. Instead, he took up his pacing again. Shaking his head, Hunter made a second sweep of the downstairs for lack of anything better to do. He paused in front of a series of dolls dressed up in costumes from Puritan days to present time. A slow smile crawled onto his face. Some mischief maker had spruced up the dried-up Puritan woman with a fancy hat that belonged to the Civil War gal and the New York lady’s fox stole.
Looking in all directions to make sure no one would see him “playing dolls,” he repaired the Puritan to her former glory and returned the other pieces of clothing to their proper owners before the Board of Lady Managers got their knickers in a twist. He wouldn’t put it past Carlisle to be the culprit, but the only way to know for certain would be to confess he’d re-dressed the dolls. And he wasn’t about to admit that to anyone.
By the time Billy had finished with her patient, Hunter had discovered the man in the foyer was showcasing a fire sprinkler system he’d invented over in Machinery Hall and his lady was a teacher of the deaf in the Children’s Building.
As soon as the couple left, Hunter opened the door to the parlor and had to jump out of the way to keep from being run over by Nurse Findley.
“Excuse me, Mr. Scott. I’m sorry. I was on my way to lunch and not watching where I was going.”
Smiling, he held the door. “You enjoy your lunch, then.”
“You, too.” She scurried out.
“Billy?” He stepped into the parlor. “You ready to go eat?”
“We’re going to eat in here.” She came in balancing two bowls. “Last week I treated a woman who works in the Louisiana State Pavilion and today she brought me some gumbo from their kitchen.” She set the bowls on a side table. “I’ve never had any, have you?”
“Not here, but I’ve sure had some back home. Gumbo’s one of my favorites.”
They settled in to eat, her on the sofa, him in an armchair. Just thinking about all that had happened and what it could mean for the Rangers made him want to spit in the fire and call the dogs. He could hardly decide where to start. “Thirty pieces of Italian lace went missing yesterday while you were on the West Side.”
She looked up, her spoon halfway to her mouth. “From here? In the Woman’s Building?”
He nodded. “And the U.S. government had a bond of a hundred thousand dollars guaranteeing their safe return to Italy. Rice called me in to find them.”
“I thought you were working at the Art Palace?”
“I was. I am. It only took me a few hours to figure out what had happened.”
Her brows lifted. “Who took them?”
“I don’t know. The first place I looked was at the shipping records. The laces had arrived under the escort of customs inspectors and two private detectives. A countess who’d been detailed by Italy’s queen had taken each piece of lace from its wrappings and recorded it in a log. The ones she logged in are still over there in the Italian exhibit—you know, in that alcove on the opposite end from where I found Joey?”
Dabbing her mouth, she nodded. “So what did you do?”
He shrugged. “I told Rice it had happened either before the laces ever left Italy’s shores, at some point on the boat, or somewhere between New York’s docks and the Woman’s Building. I offered to find out which, but Rice said the Exposition’s bond didn’t cover the safety of exhibits in transit. So the fair’s been cleared of all responsibility.”
“You saved the government and the fair a hundred thousand dollars, then.” It was a statement more than a question and pride rang in her voice.
“I did.” He placed his finished bowl of gumbo on the side table. “Queen Margherita still lost some priceless laces, though. Kind of leaves a bittersweet taste in my mouth. I’d a lot rather have caught the person responsible.”
“Well, don’t tell Queen Margherita that. She’s likely to hire you and then off you’d go to Italy, leaving me here by myself.”
His gaze captured hers. “I’ve no plans to leave you, Billy girl. Not ever.”
Her breath hitched.
He took the bowl from her hands and set it next to his. A flurry of nerves kicked up a ruckus in his stomach. “I’ve been thinking about asking you this a long time now, but it just never seems the right time. Either I’m working or you’re on the West Side or we’re both exhausted.”
Her eyes zigzagged as she looked at both of his. Hope, a spark of excitement, and love shone within their pretty caramel depths. A surge of the same filled his chest.
Pushing himself off the chair, he knelt before her on one knee and took her hand. “I love you, Billy girl. And I’d be right proud to have you as my wife. Will you do me the honor?”
Tears sprang to her eyes and a tiny laugh escaped from her throat. “Yes. Yes!”
Smiling, he leaned forward and captured her lips in a show of celebration. It quickly transformed into something more.
Breaking free, he rested his forehead against hers, his chest rising and falling as if he’d run clear across Texas. She’d said yes. She’d said yes. “I have a ring for you. I just don’t have it on me right this second. It’s over at my barrack. I’ll fetch it for you, if you’d like.”
“I’d like that very much.” Her voice was husky, her lashes fluttered.
He started to rise.
She grabbed him. “Not no
w. Not right this second. I’d rather . . . I mean, by the time you get there and back . . .” Her cheeks filled with color.
Kicking up a corner of his mouth, he cupped her face and kissed her again. She tugged him up next to her on the sofa. When his passion began to outpace his good sense, he pulled back and tucked her head beneath his chin.
A distant whistle from the elevated train announced its arrival at a platform. Muffled cries from a hawker outside crystallized in his brain as belonging to Derry. A bell from one of the buildings heralded in the half hour, warning them lunchtime would soon be over.
Her breathing settled. His heart slowed. And he found simply holding her was a pleasure all its own.
Settling his lips against her hair, he breathed in her scent. “My captain sent me a wire. He said I’m up for the position of captain of Company B. Nothing’s been decided, but it’s something I’ve been wanting for a while now.”
Instead of congratulating him, she remained silent.
He looked down, but she wasn’t asleep. “Did you hear me?”
She nodded, her hair sending a shock of static electricity to his neck. “I thought . . .” She pushed herself up, widening the space between them.
“What?” he asked. “You thought what?”
Scooting out of his arms, she studied him. “What exactly are your plans for us after the fair’s over?”
He held up a hand. “I know. You want to keep doctoring after we’re married. I’m willing to let you do that.”
“I’m confused, then.”
“About what?”
“A minute ago you were talking as if you were still planning to be a Ranger.”
He blinked. “I’m not planning to be a Ranger. I am a Ranger.”
“But I thought we agreed I’d be the wage earner.”
He widened his eyes. “The wage earner? Don’t you mean a wage earner?”
“No, I mean the wage earner.”
Her statement was so outlandish, so incomprehensible, he didn’t even know what to say. “Are you fooling me?”
“We’ve talked about this, Hunter.”
He shook his head. “We talked about you continuing to work after we married. We never, ever, not once talked about me quitting my job and living off my wife’s income. Because I can tell you one thing for certain, that will never happen. Never.”
“Why not?”
“Because it won’t.” He couldn’t even believe she’d suggested it. Thought it. What did she expect him to do? Stay home and cook? Polish floors? Change diapers?
She picked at her fingernail. “And if we have children? Who will raise them?”
“I guess we both will.”
“How? How will we do that if we’re both working?”
“We’ll hire a nanny. With two incomes, we’ll certainly be able to afford it. And then, when you get tired of doctoring, you can quit and we’ll get rid of the nanny.”
Sadness etched her features. “I’m not ever going to give up my doctoring.”
“Not even for our children?”
“It’s what I’m called to do.”
“Well, I’m called to be a Ranger.”
She drew in a disjointed breath. “But you can only do that if you live in Texas.”
Dread began to crawl up his insides. “That’s right. It’s always been my intention for us to live in Texas.”
“It’s always been my intention to live in Chicago.”
“Chicago?” He balked. “But I thought . . . I mean, why would you live in this filthy, smelly, crowded, ugly city when you could live in the wide, green, open spaces of Texas?”
“Because Chicago is where the future is. Where the people are. Where hospitals are developing new lifesaving procedures and using the latest equipment. And it’s not ugly. Other than the West Side, it’s one of the most beautiful cities I’ve ever been in. But, Texas. Texas is . . .”
He stiffened. “What? Texas is what?”
“Well, it’s not exactly cosmopolitan, Hunter. And the people there are, um, very traditional. I’m not sure they’d ever agree to being treated by a woman doctor.”
“The men wouldn’t. You’re right about that. But once the gals got used to the idea, I’m figuring they’d jump on the wagon. But that’s as it should be anyway. It wouldn’t be proper for you to be examining men.”
“Wouldn’t be proper?”
“Well, no.” He looked at her, wondering if he’d been wrong about her all this time. “You can’t mean to tell me you were planning to examine any ol’ man the way you did me that first day. Is that what you were planning to do, Billy? Were you planning to put your hands on other men?”
“Not in a sensual way, Hunter. In a strictly clinical way.”
“You’re more naive than I thought if you think there’s anything clinical about those types of exams. Maybe it’s clinical from your perspective. But I can guarantee it’s not that way for the man. And I would have some mighty big issues with you conducting yourself in that manner with the fellows I see at church every Sunday.”
She swallowed, her lips quivering. “What you’re asking isn’t possible. It would be like me saying I didn’t mind you being a Ranger, so long as you didn’t use any guns. But I do mind you being a Ranger. I also mind us living in Texas. And I most assuredly mind giving up my male patients.”
His chest tightened. “Billy—”
“I’m sorry, Hunter.” Her eyes welled up, then spilled a tear over her cheek. “I’m willing to compromise about you working, but I’m not going to Texas. And I’m definitely not giving up my male patients.”
He stared at her, dumbstruck.
She swiped her cheek with her hand. “I’m sorry. More than you know.”
Rising, she crossed the room, opened the parlor door, and left. He let her go, still reeling from her being “willing to compromise” about him working. What a great bunch of tripe.
Hurt and anger warred for dominance. But in the end, hurt won out.
He buried his face in his hands, and his throat filled. He loved her. He loved her more than life itself. But he couldn’t, wouldn’t take on a female’s role in his marriage. Not only would she eventually lose respect for him, but he’d lose respect for himself.
SWING ON HULL HOUSE PLAYGROUND32
‘ “They’ve had forty!’ Nick Gryparis, a young Greek boy, pointed to two Italian girls sharing a wide swing.”
CHAPTER
37
Flipping up her collar, Billy tucked her hands into the pockets of her jacket. October would be with them in another few days and Mother Nature had decided to foreshadow what was to come. A breeze whipped across the playground, tossing up dust. But the children didn’t seem to mind.
They played jump rope, jackstones, faba-gaba, and, of course, on all the equipment. Today she’d taught a group to play Drop the Handkerchief, and a heated game had ensued for the last half hour.
It had been almost a month since she’d seen Hunter and her days had become mundane. Routine. Predictable. Even her paper on germ theory no longer held the excitement it once had. She thought of all the years she’d studied to be a doctor. Then the seven years she’d spent perfecting her skills until she was finally confident enough to branch out on her own. Only to discover no one would come.
But this next time they would. She’d built up quite a clientele since offering her services at Hull House twice a week. Miss Addams and her boarders had been duly impressed. The group of them had many influential contacts, as did the Lady Managers at the Woman’s Building. Between them and the money she’d earned at the fair, she’d be much more successful the next time she hung out her shingle.
She took in a deep breath. Achieving her dream was well within her grasp. So why did it feel so hollow? So empty?
But she knew why. She’d willingly exchanged a man she loved for her shingle. No, that wasn’t exactly true. He’d said she could keep her shingle. But on his terms. It’s just she didn’t like his terms. Not even a little.
/>
She pressed her face into her collar as another harsh breeze kicked up the dust. Still, she missed sitting in the parlor with him after a long day’s work. She missed their conversations, their laughs, their kisses. Even their arguments.
But Texas? It was so far away. And so backward. And he’d be gone so much of the time that she’d be returning to an empty house anyway.
No, she didn’t want to go to Texas. She didn’t want to be married to a man who was never home. And she definitely didn’t want to quit seeing her male patients. He was being completely unreasonable about that. Ridiculous, even. Bullheaded.
“They’ve had forty!” Nick Gryparis, a young Greek boy, pointed to two Italian girls sharing a wide swing.
“We’ve had no such thing.”
Considering who was on the swing, Billy was inclined to believe them. Nella was sweet and very conscientious. And Antonietta wouldn’t dream of breaking a rule.
“Course you have,” Nick shouted. “More’n forty.”
As much as Billy wanted to interfere, it was the survival of the fittest out here. The sooner the girls learned how to stand up for themselves, the better equipped they’d be to face a world run by men. Men who made the rules. Rules that favored them and incapacitated women. Still, she’d pull Nella and Antonietta aside later and give them suggestions on how to handle the boys when they threw their weight around like that.
The children in line, including Derry, decided forty had indeed been reached. They pulled the swing to a stop, shooed the girls off, then engaged in a heated debate over who was next. Derry thought it was his turn. Nick thought it was his.
When it appeared as if fisticuffs were imminent, Miss Weibel, Billy’s partner in supervising, headed in their direction. Billy couldn’t help but smile. She had no doubt Miss Weibel would find a creative solution to the dispute, one in which all those involved would feel as if they’d won.
Affection for the young woman filled her. She knew she shouldn’t have favorites, but anyone who’d worked with Miss Weibel couldn’t help but love her. And Billy worked with her this time every Sunday.