Chapter 11 #2
“I want to talk to you, too.” I sat down for the first time in hours, kneading my lower back.
Working in a restaurant and hotel was the hardest work I’d ever done in my life.
I still missed teaching, but feeding hundreds of miners a day gave me a sense of accomplishment that standing in a classroom or acting on a set didn’t offer.
I also liked to see Sam’s approving smile when the miners complimented my food. I’d found myself asking Mama and Julia for cooking tips in 1929, secretly hoping to impress him, though I wouldn’t admit it to anyone but myself.
“See?” He nodded at my lower back. “You should sleep in the bed now that I’m doing better. You’re too young to be in so much pain.”
I squeezed his hand, offering a smile. “It’s the least I can do, Father.”
“You’ve been so good to me, Ally.” He returned my smile and then grew serious as he glanced at the back door and lowered his voice. “I’ve been watching the way Sam looks at you.”
His words took me by surprise, and I pulled back my hand. “What do you mean?”
“He’s falling in love with you, Ally.”
“What?” I stood, shaking my head, forgetting about my lower back. “That’s preposterous.”
“I’m fifty-three years old, daughter.” Father’s blue eyes were soft as he regarded me. “I know the look of a man falling for a woman. And I know the look of a woman who is oblivious. That’s why I wanted to speak to you.” He patted the stool again.
I lowered myself onto the chair, my mind spinning with denial.
“These walls are thin, Ally,” he reminded me. “I hear your conversations in the morning, before anyone else is awake. A man doesn’t spend that much time talking a woman’s ear off if he’s not interested.”
I wasn’t sure what to say.
“I need to tell you what’s on my mind and heart before it’s too late,” he continued.
“Too late?” Fear tightened my voice. “You’re not feeling ill again, are you?”
“No. I mean too late if you start to fall for a man who wouldn’t be good for you.”
“Oh.” I lowered my hands into my lap. “You have nothing to fear.”
“Don’t I?” He smiled. “Sam has been good to let us live here and to give you some work. But his past is marked with tragedy, and though that doesn’t make a man unworthy of you, it makes me leery. What do you know of his past?”
“It doesn’t matter. I have no interest in marrying him or anyone else.” The Annals of San Francisco taunted me, but I had a choice, didn’t I? I always had a choice.
“In a city with about ten thousand men to one woman, I highly doubt that your plans will last long, my dear.” He chuckled before growing serious again.
“There are many good men to choose from, Ally. I don’t want you to choose Sam just because he’s the only one you know.
I think it’s past time that we find a church.
In fact, we should start attending tomorrow. You need to meet more people.”
“I’ve been thinking the same thing, but perhaps not for the same reason.” I shook my head as I smiled, not wanting him to think I was worried about his concerns. It was absurd. Instead, I said, “I miss church.”
“Me, too.” He straightened. “Now, what did you want to talk to me about?”
I took a deep breath, already knowing his response but trying to hold on to hope. “The reason we came here in the first place.”
“Not this again, Ally.”
“It would be so easy for you to regain your fortune—”
“I didn’t come to California to look for gold, and you know it. I came to start a school and bring education to this untamed land. That is my highest calling. When Bronson and I closed the school in Concord and you suggested we come west, that was the only reason I agreed.”
“But—” I couldn’t tell him that I knew where we could get gold before everyone else. “Don’t you even want to try?”
“I’m too old and too tired to dig dirt for a bit of earthly comfort.
I’d rather spend my days reading literature to children and engaging their minds.
” He patted my shoulder. “The sooner you accept this, the sooner you can find some peace of mind. If my lot in life is to be a poor man who finds joy in education, then I am rich, indeed.”
“You can do both.”
His wise eyes told me he wouldn’t budge.
But it wasn’t going to stop me from trying. He didn’t know I might not be staying with him after my birthday.
“I’ll gather my things and head upstairs.” He stood with some effort and kissed the top of my head. “Try to get a good night’s sleep, daughter.”
After he collected his things, he said good night before leaving me alone in the kitchen, with the children in the bedroom.
Sam usually went out after the supper dishes were done to check on things around his property and came in after I had gone to bed.
Was his strange behavior the last few days due to his growing feelings for me?
I didn’t want to think Father’s suspicions were true.
It would only complicate our working relationship if Sam had feelings for me.
But even as I thought about it, I couldn’t believe it.
Just because Father thought he saw something in Sam didn’t make it so.
I stood, pushing aside the thoughts, and opened the back door to fetch some water for tomorrow morning’s sponge baths.
The evening gloaming had settled over the barren yard.
Sam’s property butted up to the base of Telegraph Hill with buildings on either side.
Just behind Bess’s Place was the shed where Sam had slept when Bess was still alive.
Next to it was the lot where Paddy chopped wood, and on the other side was the pump. Beyond that was the outhouse.
A movement caught my eye at the back of the shed. I thought I saw a woman peek around the corner, but she was gone by the time I blinked.
The twilight had a way of playing tricks on my eyes.
I walked to the well, ever mindful of my surroundings.
Sam and Paddy kept a close watch on their property, but I could never be too certain someone wasn’t hiding behind a bush, ready to attack.
It was an ever-present fear in Sydney Town, though most of the men had grown to respect my presence—and Sam had threatened more than one man who had gotten too familiar.
Lowering the bucket into the well, I listened to the sound of the gambling hall next door, conscious of the familiar sounds.
But then I heard low voices coming from the shed—and one sounded very feminine.
I paused, trying to hear, though the noise from next door drowned out the sound.
Had Sam brought a woman to the shed? Was that why he came out here every evening before bed?
Disappointment crept into my heart, and I quickly lifted the rope and removed the bucket, sloshing the water carelessly in my haste to get away.
I returned to the back door, trying to tell myself none of it mattered. If Sam Kendal wanted to entertain a woman in his shed, he had every right. This was his property, and he owed me no explanation.
Yet the disillusionment I felt was keen and deep.
But why? Other than his behavior toward the people he loved, I had no frame of reference to know what kind of person he was.
I had created an illusion of him, of what I thought I wanted him to be—especially if the history book was right and I was supposed to marry him.
But how preposterous! Of course I wasn’t going to marry him. First and foremost because I didn’t want to.
I pushed open the back door and set the bucket of water on the floor before entering the bedroom.
Breathing heavily, I closed the door and pressed against it—and found Hazel and Johnnie on their pallet, talking about the little orphan, Oliver Twist, who was somehow now living on the streets of San Francisco in their make-believe world, with an orange kitten following behind him.
I was in bed for over an hour before I heard Sam come into the kitchen.
It was dark, and I had extinguished the lantern long ago, so I lay in the inky blackness with my thoughts.
I’d asked Hazel if she wanted to sleep in the bed with me, but she insisted that Johnnie needed her on the pallet next to him.
Noise from the gambling hall seeped in, but I could still hear Sam making his pallet on the kitchen floor.
I turned onto my side, knowing I should go to sleep, not wanting to return to 1929 yet. One of the gifts of time-crossing was that when I wanted to fall asleep, I simply closed my eyes and made the choice. I never suffered from insomnia, and I didn’t have dreams.
Father’s words played in my mind and mingled with thoughts of the woman in the shed. I didn’t want Sam to have feelings for me, but I also didn’t want him to entertain another woman. I wanted to believe he was different from the other men in Sydney Town.
Eventually, Sam settled, and it was quiet again except for the sounds from next door.
I should have been enjoying the bed. It was surprisingly comfortable. But wondering who was in the shed with Sam was all I could think about. Was it Sadie or one of the women who had come to Bess’s funeral? Was it a different night worker?
Disappointment filled my stomach at the thought. I was tempted to confront Sam and have him explain, but I had no right. It would be better to go to sleep.
Yet I’d still have to face him in the morning when I came back here.
Groaning, I turned to my other side, intent upon going to sleep, when a new noise made me sit up straight in bed.
Someone was tearing the canvas in the wall by my bed.
I screamed when I saw the knife blade sticking through the fabric and scrambled out of the bed, falling on the floor beside Hazel and Johnnie.
The bedroom door flew open, and Sam appeared, wearing only his trousers, as a man ripped the rest of the canvas and attempted to enter the bedroom.
Hazel and Johnnie had woken up, and Hazel pressed into me as I gathered her and Johnnie into my arms. There was no way to get out of the room, so I huddled against the canvas wall with the bed between us and the intruder.