Forbidden Love (29 page)

He couldn't bear to lose Lisa.

For now, he must face the murder charge. He intended to turn himself in to the county jail tomorrow. What in God's name would happen then?

* * *

Several days later, Hugh sat on the rosewood sofa in
Owen's
parlor, both men having just been released from the Allegheny County Jail. "Glad I'm free again," Hugh remarked. "Longest five days I ever spent."

Owen nodded.
"Never thought it'd take our attorney that long to raise bail."

"A foreboding of things to come," Hugh said with a harsh set to his mouth. "You know Frick will never drop the charges."

"Agreed, so to hell with him.
Tell me the truth, how much longer do you think this strike is going to last?"

"As long as we want it to, as long as we can hold out.
We are not going to back down on this issue of tonnage rates, and we are not going to give in to the mill management. All the other steelworkers support us. How can we lose?”

"But how much longer can we live on union funds? I may have to draw from my savings, much as I hate to.
And what about the non-union workers?
What about the Slavs? It's not going to be easy," Owen observed with a slow shake of his head.

Hugh leaned forward, his eyes bright with feeling. "We will win. Never doubt that." Silent for a moment, he managed a brief smile. "No one's happy since Burgess
McLuckie
closed all the saloons yesterday."

"Just as well he did, although I'll admit I like a mug of beer as much as the next man." Stretching his legs out, Owen locked his hands behind his head. "Can you imagine the trouble we'd have if the saloons remained open? As long as the union Advisory Committee controls the borough--and I'd say we've done a damn good job so far--we can maintain the peace. Hell, we even regulate every bit of news that leaves
Homestead
--even every damn telegram." He nodded with satisfaction. "I'd say we've done quite well."

"I'd say so, too, but do you know what I heard?"

Owen held up a hand. "Don't tell me, let me guess. Governor Pattison intends to send the National Guard to patrol the town."

"Right you are," Hugh said with a scowl. "Who needs the National Guard? We don't."

"I have an idea." Owen paused, tapping his fingers on the arm of the chair. "Let's go to
Harrisburg
and try to convince the governor that
Homestead
doesn't need the militia. You and I can go, along with any other members of the Advisory Committee who'd be willing to.
How about it?"

"Sounds like a good idea to me," Hugh said with a slow nod. "Yeah, sounds good."

Owen waved his hand dismissively.
"To hell with union business.
I read in the
Gazette
that the Pirates beat the Phillies 5-4.
Must have been a good game."

"And we'll beat Carnegie and Frick. All of
Pittsburgh
backs us. Hell, the whole country is behind us. We can't lose. . ."

Owen met Hugh at the Allegheny County Courthouse a week later, both men having been summoned to preliminary hearings for the murder of the Pinkerton guards. Their footsteps echoed on the marble floor as they approached the steps to the second floor, where Criminal Court was located.

 
"A damn shame we failed in
Harrisburg
," Hugh said, mounting the steps.
"Looks as if the governor will send the militia to
Homestead
after all."
They turned a corner where a sign pointed to Criminal Court. "And if that isn't bad enough, do you know what else I heard?"

"No need to ask. Some damn fool anarchist tried to kill Frick."

"And didn't succeed," Hugh said with a snort. "So where does that leave us? You know the Amalgamated will get blamed for it."

"It won't help us,
that's
for certain." Owen sighed. "Let's hope things get better soon. Can they get any worse?"

Chapter Nineteen

“How much longer must we go on like this?” Lisa faced Owen across the table at the hotel restaurant, the same one they’d visited so many months ago, at the time of the Amalgamated Convention. She ignored the talk of other patrons around her, the clink of glass and the aromas of food. “Just the same, I’m thankful for every minute I can spend with you, for whatever time we can have together.” She and Owen had
agree
ahead of time to meet at this restaurant, while he was out of work and William was at his office. Yet she knew Owen must watch every cent, that there would be precious few times when they could dine together.

He touched her hand, sending a lush tide of longing throughout her body. “If you were my wife now . . .”

She tried to smile. “If I were your wife, we wouldn’t be meeting like this. We’d have a home of our own.”

Owen sat back and sighed. “Ah, will that day ever come?”

“It has to, darling. We must keep our hopes up, must know that some day I’ll be free of William.”

“But how?
If he won’t grant you a divorce?”

Lisa ran a hand across her forehead and stopped talking while the waiter left their orders. She dipped her fork in her mashed potatoes, her mind definitely not on food. “Elizabeth and I discussed an annulment, a decree that negates the marriage, as if it never existed.”

“
Which is a good description of your marriage.
How could I forget the night you first told me about your empty
marriage.
Do you remember the night of the thunderstorm, when you nursed me after
the my
accident?”

“How could I forget?” Countless regrets taunted her. She should have surrendered herself to him, should have let him make love to her. Ah, if she could relive that night . . . She snatched her mind back to the topic. “
Lawrence
told
Elizabeth
that people who are granted an annulment are treated most unkindly by the press. And that’s putting it mildly. Their names are dragged through the dirt, all their secrets bared. They
have
no secrets. The reason for their annulment becomes public record.”

“That must not happen to you!” His eyes flashed. “I will not have your name dragged through the mud.”

She dipped her fork in her peas. “But you see the dilemma we are in.”

“I see that I want you so much, Lisa. The waiting is near unbearable.” He caressed her hand.

“The same for me!”
Her voice broke and she sought calmness. “You’re all I can think about, night and day, all I want.” She drew a deep breath. “There must be a way for us to find happiness, a way for us to be together, not just in bits and snatches like this, but for all time.”

“And how will that happen, while you remain married to a man who can’t even make you a true wife?” His movements desultory, he cut through a slice of ham, and she knew he couldn’t concentrate on food, either.

“Owen, I’ve been thinking . . .” Could she say it? What would he think?

He looked up. “Yes?”

“What if I moved to Homestead . . .” She paused.

“As my mistress?”
He shook his head, an expression of absolute misery on his face. “Darling, it would never do. Don’t ever think
Homestead
is any more tolerant than Shadyside. It isn’t. Besides, what would your husband do or say about your absence? Just accept it? Or had you forgotten you have a husband?” he asked in a voice heavy with sarcasm.

She scoffed. “Forget!” She sipped her tea, giving herself time to think. “I could tell him I’m going to
Philadelphia
–I have relatives there–and he wouldn’t know the difference. Nor would he care,” she said after a pause.

“But I would care. And Lisa, as much as I love you, as much as I want you, I can not permit you to do such a thing. My neighbors would ostracize you. I fear such a move would bring you nothing but unhappiness.”

She sighed. “You’re right. I just wasn’t thinking. It’s only that I love you so very much.” She crumpled her linen napkin in her lap. “But what are we going to do?”

“We’ll find a way. Sooner or later, William will grant a divorce.”

She knew he spoke with false optimism and feared true happiness would never be theirs. And until union problems were solved and Owen working again, she saw no way he could support her, even if a miracle happened that allowed them to marry.

* * *

"Why in hell did the governor decide to send the militia to
Homestead
?" Owen asked Hugh on a sweltering summer day. He'd opened every window in his house; still the parlor remained unbearably hot and stuffy. He stretched his long legs out and brushed away a pesky fly that buzzed around his head. "We managed fine without the National Guard. Out of the frying pan into the fire," he said, wanting to forget union problems. If Lisa were with him now, he wouldn't be discussing union affairs. If only he could see her again, touch
her,
take her into his arms . . .

Hugh stroked his thick mustache. "The militia won't stay long. The people of
Homestead
won't stand for it. You mark my words. They'll be gone within a few weeks."

Owen scoffed. "I'll believe it when I see it." He mopped his handkerchief across his perspiring forehead,
then
tucked it in the pocket of his blue serge trousers. "We have enough troubles now. I heard Frick is filling up the mill with more scabs every day. He'll never be able to run the mill with untrained workers."

"Agreed."
Hugh lit the cigar with measured calmness, and soon the aroma of cigar smoke filled the air, the smoke drifting upward. "Those scabs don't understand the first thing about steel manufacture. But it's only a matter of time before most of the workers return to the mill--"

"Not the Amalgamated."

Hugh puffed on his cigar.
"No, the unskilled.
How long do you think they can live on the pittance we give them?"

Owen snorted. "Not long. When the vice chairman opens the mill again, those workers will run back to the mill quicker than you can say 'Benedict Arnold'."

"True." Hugh stood and stretched. "You're right, but the union will win eventually. I fear I must leave now," he said with a self-conscious grin. "My wife will have dinner on soon, and I mustn't be late." He reached for his hat on the parlor table and clamped it on his head, then headed for the front door.

"Did you hear about the fight yesterday?" Owen asked, brushing away the annoying fly again.

Hugh's eyebrows shot up. "Did I hear about the
fight!
Who would have thought that Jim Corbett would beat John L. Sullivan? Do you see an analogy here?" he asked with a grin.

Owen slapped his palm to his forehead. "I knew it! I knew you'd think of that. Yeah, we'll beat Frick, too." He opened the door onto dazzling late afternoon sunlight, the air seeming as hot as the open hearth. A slight breeze carried the scent of freshly-mowed grass and his roses in bloom. Several young boys whizzed past on roller skates, arguing over who'd get to pitch at the softball game that evening.

After watching the boys for a few seconds, Hugh turned back to his friend. "We'll beat them, Frick and Carnegie. Depend upon it." Without another word, he sped out the front door and across the front porch.

Owen closed the door and returned to his seat, determined to forget union troubles. Only Lisa could make him forget the mill and the union, all his thoughts about the future. Only she could drive him crazy with longing, make him happy to be alive. He imagined she were with him now, sitting on his lap, her arm wrapped around his neck. He saw her smile, as if she
were
smiling just for him, and of course, she would be.

Mentally he undressed her, his eyes closed to heighten his visual enjoyment. He pictured her long hair flowing down her back, his fingers itching to lift each silky strand and kiss it. Above all, he ached to kiss her full breasts and rosy nipples until she moaned with pleasure as she lay beneath him.