Always (15 page)

Emily knew what he was waiting for. He was waiting for her to eat humble pie. “All right,” she said, “so maybe I didn’t come all the way out here just to thank you for the job, but that doesn’t mean I don’t—” She had to swallow down what felt like a shard of broken glass in her throat. Lord a’mighty but this pie was painful to swallow. “I mean, I do, uh... appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome.”

His words were simple and gracious, but those dark brown eyes shined like new pennies. They seemed to say
, “Gotcha this time, didn’t I, Em?”
His self-satisfied expression made Emily want to fly into him. It made her want to stomp off in a huff and find some other way to raise the money she needed. More importantly, it made her wish he’d put on his damned shirt.

It was lucky that he chose that moment to change the subject. “Freddy Brubaker said you’re doing a good job.”

Cautiously, Emily relaxed her guard. “He did?”

Ross crossed the yard to the hand pump, where he snatched a cotton shirt from over the metal spigot. It was then that Emily noticed the white picket-fenced garden behind him. Like the rest of the yard, it was well tended, with six long rows of early vegetables beginning to sprout. Potatoes, peas, tomatoes, carrots, and what might have been pumpkin seedlings.

Ross put on his shirt. “Freddy’s tickled pink that you already know how to set type. That takes a lot off his shoulders, considering he’s trying to learn a new job, too.”

Emily watched as long, capable fingers worked at each button, cutting off, one slow step at a time, all remaining, heart-stopping glimpses of his bare chest. “Uh, well, I’m glad to hear it,” she said, clearing her throat and focusing on his face. “He’s actually been very helpful since I started.”

“You sound surprised by that, Em. What’s the matter? Did you think all Democrats breathe fire and sprout horns?”

At these fighting words, Emily struggled to maintain what tenuous poise remained. “Does that mean you’ve been converted?”

He folded his arms and smiled, apparently pleased that he’d piqued her ire. “No, but maybe I’ve learned to be a little more tolerant of other viewpoints.”

“Tolerant? Is that what you call it?”

“Call what?”

“Keeping quiet about your opinions in print.”

His smile faded, and annoyance sparked in his eyes. “I use discretion in choosing my battles.”

“Really? What about getting the vote for everyone? Men of color and women of all colors? Now there’s
two
worthy battles to cut your journalistic teeth on. Have you tried going up against Malcolm yet, or are you saving that for after the big wedding?”

“The
Herald
is a Democratic paper, Emily. It always has been. That’s not going to change overnight. If it did, we’d lose a lot of subscribers. My purpose in joining the paper wasn’t to put a muzzle on its viewpoint or to drive it out of business.”

“Well, that’s a moot point because Malcolm wouldn’t allow you to. If you ever dared go against the Democratic party line, he’d kill your piece before it could go to press.”

“The same could be said for most Republican papers.”

“Not the
Penn Gazette
.”

“The
Gazette
is dead.”

At this blunt utterance of the truth, Emily couldn’t do much more than glare at him. Where was the old Ross? Why couldn’t he see that he was selling out on principles that mattered?

When she didn’t reply, he spoke again. “Sometimes, Em, we have to compromise.”

“Did you learn that in the war?”

“Yeah. It’s called reality, and most of us have to face it when we grow up.”

Emily clenched her hands. Inside her gloves, her palms were slick with sweat. The sun felt unbearably hot as it beat down on her shoulders. She was suffocating beneath the heavy material of her mourning dress, not to mention the distressingly familiar dark-eyed gaze that pinned her from three yards away. His intimation, that she still believed and acted like a child, stung more than she would ever admit. “I don’t care much for your reality,” she said.

“I know you don’t. That’s why we could go around in circles like this all afternoon and still not get anywhere.”

Emily wondered where they’d gotten off track. In none of her imagined scenarios had she foreseen them arguing politics in his backyard. “I need a favor,” she said.

He just looked at her, the expression on his face neutral. For one of the few times Emily could remember, she had no clue what he could be thinking. “Oh? What kind of favor?”

“I’ve come to request a loan.”

Something flickered in those dark eyes, something like concern. “A loan? You mean, money?”

“What other kind of loan is there?”

He didn’t react to her sarcasm. “What do you need it for?”

Emily tried in vain to recall how she’d decided ahead of time to handle this possible direction of inquiry. “Why... why do you need to know?”

“How much do you need?”

“A hundred dollars.”

That got a rise out of him. His cautious, penetrating gaze vanished instantly, and his eyes widened. “A hundred dollars? What do you need a hundred dollars for?”

“Oh!” Emily’s poise fled, and she turned her back. “I just knew you’d ask me that question.”

“Of course I’m going to ask you that question!”

“Can’t you just trust me?”

“Em, that’s not the—”

“Stop calling me Em! I am
not
a letter of the alphabet!”

“You never minded when we were kids.”

“We’re not kids anymore!” Emily hadn’t meant to blurt this with such vehemence, and she wished that she could take it back now, but it was the truth. Ironically enough, it was probably at the root of all that had ever gone wrong between them.

There was a pause before she sensed his approach from behind. His manner had softened. “Emily, you aren’t in some kind of trouble, are you?”

When she felt his warm, strong hand come to rest on her shoulder, she couldn’t help it, she jerked away. Snatching up her skirt, she fled across the yard toward the front of the house. “Oh, never mind, never mind. I’ll take care of it myself.”

“Emily...”

“Just forget I was here!”

“Emily!”

As she scurried around the corner of the house, peripheral impressions of bright-colored flower beds were blurred in a threat of frustrated, angry tears. Ross’s voice carried after her, but she could tell by the sound that he still stood where she’d left him.

Swearing at the stubborn fence gate, she finally shoved it open to escape. It was for the best that he’d chosen not to follow her. It had been stupid of her to come here in the first place. They weren’t children anymore, and it had been a very long time since their friendship had meant anything to him. If, in her heart, she hadn’t truly recognized this fact before, she was forced to recognize it now. Why, Ross had even done her the courtesy of putting a name to it. Reality.

She didn’t care for it at all.

Chapter Eleven

Monday morning and she was late.

Drat, Emily thought as her heels snapped along the sidewalk toward the perennial bustle of Centre Square. She’d overslept and barely had time to swallow a few mouthfuls of lumpy oatmeal before flying out the door.

She could just imagine her chortling male coworkers.
Well, ain’t it just like a woman? Barely a week on the job and already late!

While it was true that Freddy Brubaker was now on her side, she didn’t like the idea of adding ammunition to Malcolm Davenport’s arsenal of prejudices against women in the workplace. If there was one thing she wanted to set straight before she could afford to quit his employment, it was that a woman could excel at newspaper work as well as a man.

And this thought only served to remind her that it was a man that had caused her problems this morning. If she hadn’t lost so much sleep the past weekend over that humiliating scene with Ross, she never would have overslept in the first place!

“Why, Miss Emily Winters. Is that you rushing by like a fire carriage, or is it just me indulging in wishful thinking?”

At the sound of her name, Emily skidded to a stop, nearly colliding with a street lamp before spinning around to see Karl Becker sauntering behind her on the sidewalk with the aid of his cane. “I’m late.”

“I gathered as much,” he replied amiably, pausing beside her.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t talk now, I’ve—”

“Tut, tut.” He raised a finger to touch her nose. “I can see you’re in dire need of expert advice on the subject of employer-employee relations.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ve worked mostly in a family-owned business in the past, so this sort of situation has never arisen before, has it?”

“What?”

“You must never go flying into the office all wild-eyed and with your tail feathers askew. It creates an incriminating impression of guilt.”

“But I am guilty.”

He shook his head. “Never say that aloud.”

“I’m late.”

“Nonsense. Your watch is just slow.” He offered a devilish grin and held out his arm. “It so happens that my timepiece is also running slow this morning. May we at least walk together and commiserate over the shoddy workmanship of today’s watchmakers?”

Emily hesitated for a moment at the prospect of taking his arm. Such an act might start tongues wagging. Then again, what could people possibly say about her that hadn’t been said before? She would be hard-pressed to top herself.

She accepted Karl’s gallant gesture, and they resumed their walk toward the center of town at a saner pace. “You’re incorrigible,” she scolded good-naturedly.

“So I’ve been told.”

“I’ll bet you have. By more than one woman, too.”

“You’re right,” he said with a rakish chuckle. “By more than two, too.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “You haven’t changed at all.”

“Ah, but you have, Miss Emily. You’ve grown up very nicely indeed.”

“Do you think so?”

“Absolutely.”

“I suppose I’ll have to admit that you did, too. How’s the lawyering business treating you?”

“Very well, actually. David Stauffer has always had a brisk business in real estate and criminal defense, but along with collecting survivors’ pensions, soldiers’ bounties, and back pay, we’ve got more than we can handle.”

“Do tell.”

“In fact, Miss Emily, we’ve been so busy that we’re considering hiring a secretary. We could use the organizational skills of an intelligent businesswoman such as yourself.”

Emily looked at him incredulously. “Is that a job offer?”

Karl laughed. “I suppose it is.”

“Well, I’m flattered, but I’m already employed.” She focused her attention on the street ahead. She’d been right earlier. They were indeed drawing interested glances from passersby. Somehow, with Karl beside her, though, the thought of stirring up the old town didn’t seem quite so bad.

“Already employed. Hmm, I see,” Karl said. “Then the outlandish rumors I’ve heard about you are true?”

“Rumors?” Emily’s head snapped up. “What rumors?”

“That you’re working for Davenport’s newspaper. Surely, it’s just nasty, vile gossip.”

“Oh, those rumors.” She had to suck in a deep breath to regain her composure. She had become much too defensive lately. “It’s true.”

“I’m sure you have your reasons.”

“I do.”

“I suppose that was the job Gallagher was speaking of the day we went riding.”

“It was.” Emily frowned up at him. “You know, the two of you really should try to make amends. I remember when you were the best of friends.”

For once, Karl’s expression seemed to reflect something close to honest regret. “Yes, I remember, too, but some elements of the past are difficult to recapture.”

So true
, Emily thought glumly as they reached the two-story brick front where Karl was employed. Both city hall and, across from that, the Davenport building loomed on the square a mere block away.

Karl smiled down at her. “It seems our morning stroll has come to an end all too soon.”

“Yes.”

“Perhaps we can get together and talk again sometime.”

Emily hesitated. Was he asking permission to come call? She remembered a time over four years ago when he’d phrased almost the same question. He’d come calling on her after that. Karl was great fun to be with, but no sparks of passion had ever kindled between them.

“I’m sure you have other lady friends to call on,” she said carefully, “I wouldn’t want you to waste your time.”

The knowing expression in Karl’s eyes told her he took her meaning. “As it so happens, I’m free these days. It’s a perfect time to renew old friendships.”

“All right, then,” Emily said, “perhaps we can get together to chat.”

He smiled. “I’ll look forward to it.”

Emily tried to smile back, but the effort was weak. By now, she’d been accosted by the memory of old rumors and was reminded that it was perhaps Karl who’d been the most innocent victim of all. Even if he didn’t know it.

He must have read something amiss in her expression because his bantering tone softened. “Emily, is there something wrong?”

She had to tell him. He was working hard to set up a respectable career in this town. “Karl, you need to know something.”

“Yes?”

“I... that is, soon after you enlisted and left for the army... well, that’s when I left to go live in Baltimore.”

“Oh?”

Emily had to moisten her lips. Her mouth felt as dry as old newsprint. “Well, if you remember, um, before that, you called on me a few times and, well, a while before that, there was that time at the chestnutting party. A lot of people saw us together there, and—”

“And Gallagher broke my nose,” he interjected ruefully.

Emily bit her lip. “Oh, dear. I almost forgot about that.”

Karl massaged the bridge of his nose. “I recall it vividly.”

She winced. “It took weeks to heal, didn’t it?”

“Six.”

“I never did apologize, did I?”

“It wasn’t you who threw the punch.”

“I’m so sorry, Karl.”

“That’s all right. I’ve even had a few ladies tell me the bump lends me something of an aristocratic air.” He gave her his profile to demonstrate. “Do you agree?”