Chapter 14
She knew Owen was on the mattress with her. Temperance doubted she could ever not be aware of him, but she had to admit the wool-stuffed mattress was very comfortable, even if they weren’t touching and sharing warmth. The dog slept between them, proving himself to be an adequate chaperone, after all.
They rose early, both fired up to take on this new endeavor. While they ate oatmeal, Owen gave her one of his company notes worth twenty dollars.
“There’s a new clothing store near the hotel. See if they have gowns for women or if they can make one for you. Something bright with lots of frills. I don’t mind if it costs a little extra. Anyone can get a drink in this town if they want one. I want to attract the men who can afford to give me their money.”
Temperance had to appreciate that he wasn’t looking to prey on those who were down and out. It made her more inclined to support his venture to the best of her ability so she bundled up and headed out with Clarence as soon as they were finished eating.
The bell over the door announced her arrival, and a cheerful female voice sing-songed, “Good morning.”
“Good morning.” Temperance smiled toward the counter where two women stood chatting with the proprietress. “Oh, Mrs. Greenly. How nice to see you again.” Temperance moved closer as she recognized her. “This must be your daughter-in-law,” she noted with a friendly smile at the woman who was roughly her age. The woman’s high-waisted gown draped over her expanding belly.
Ivy Greenly stood taller. Her nostrils pinched themselves to narrow slits as she drew in a breath of offense.
“I shan’t introduce you, Katherine. This is the woman Elmer told us about. The one who is living in sin with Owen Stames.” With a wide-eyed look of warning to the proprietress, Ivy cautioned, “I wouldn’t stain your reputation by engaging in commerce with a soiled dove.”
Katherine murmured, “Mother,” and looked down with appalled embarrassment.
The proprietress lost her friendly smile and gave Temperance’s crushed gown an askance dismissal. “I must ask you to leave.”
It was the same the ugly repulsion Adelaide had shown while telling her, You can’t stay here.
Shame was a hot flame that licked up from the soles of Temperance’s feet to engulf her whole body in humiliation. Her face felt as though it glowed with her guilty desires and loose morals. She couldn’t even blurt out the heated words that crowded into her throat.
I’m here because I trusted a man like your son, she longed to say. She couldn’t do that to an innocent woman like Katherine, though. Not when Katherine was kind enough to be mortified by her mother-in-law’s rudeness.
Faced with Ivy’s contempt, however, Temperance could only flee the shop with another jarring clang of the bell.
She hurried back to the undertaking parlor, feeling as though her one mistake followed her as doggedly as Clarence. At least the dog didn’t nip at her heels the way her past did, constantly tripping her up and leaving her feeling helpless and pounced upon.
Why was she bearing all of the consequence of Dewey’s unprincipled behavior anyway? He was back in Chicago, living his life as gaily as before while she’d been banished to the edge of existence. She was forsaken by her family and had to rely on a man who gave her money that she couldn’t even spend! Who was going to accept her here? Men who were too drunk to hold any standards? Men like Elmer who were as much a reprobate as Dewey?
She felt as though she had died and gone to actual hell. This was a miserable life she was living. Her nose was running from the cold, and her eyes watered with wretchedness. Her tears were freezing onto her lashes, making everything that much worse.
She cut down alongside the wagon house, so dejected she wanted to throw herself onto the new mattress and bawl her eyes out.
She thrust herself in the door and Clarence shoved past her, smacking her skirt with his tail as he went by.
“Clarence,” she complained even as Owen shouted, “Wha—? Fuck!”
Temperance halted in shock as a cacophony of noise and a blur of movement hit her ringing ears and wet eyes. Long limbs shot straight out from the hip bath as it tipped over in front of the hearth. There was a sploosh and a clatter and more swearing as Owen scrambled to his feet.
“Don’t drink that!” Owen stretched out a long leg to push Clarence away from the expanding puddle of soapy water.
Temperance was frozen in place, stunned, taking in that Owen was completely naked. He was soapy and affronted, holding a limp rag in front of his bow and fiddle.
The rest of him was godlike. His wide chest and powerful shoulders were strapping muscle still tanned from the summer sun. The brownish-red hairs on his chest lay flat and wet in an arrow down his abdomen. His legs were paler than his torso, but looked as tensile and implacable as tree trunks. Soap bubbles traced their way to his ankles and pooled at his feet.
He seemed as speechless as she was.
Then he suddenly jerked his hips sideways and cried, “Jesus, Clarence. Did you rub his nose in the crick on your way in? What the hell.” His hips jerked the other direction.
The angry humiliation in Temperance’s throat melted into mirth. The desolation that had threatened to destroy her sputtered out in rolls of laughter.
“It’s not funny!”
Were there any words more likely to turn a ludicrous situation into something even funnier? Her eyes grew damp as she laughed so hard her stomach hurt.
“I swear to God, Clarence...” Owen kept angling this way and that, trying to avoid showing Temperance his ass while dodging the dog’s nose touching his bare skin. “You could fetch me some clean water since my bath leaked through the floor,” Owen said irritably. “If I have to get it myself, I’m going all the way back to Pincher’s and leaving him there.”
The thought of him walking through town, stark naked, covered with only that soggy rag, ordering Mrs. Pincher to take her nuisance dog back was such an image, Temperance laughed even harder.
“I’ll remember this, you know. When you have your bath.” He was shaking his finger at her.
“I’m sorry,” she said on a wheeze, unable to tell if he was serious. She could hardly catch her breath. “I wasn’t…It was just so...” Suddenly, she was on the verge of tears again. “Don’t get rid of him.” Her throat cinched up tight.
Clarence was a nuisance, but he was one of her few bright spots these days.
With a sniff, she snatched up the pail and took it out to the pump, returning with it full. Owen had a larger towel draped around his hips and had swept the water into the cracks so the floor was painted with damp streaks. She set the pail by the hearth and walked into the parlor, bringing Clarence with her.
She paced, picturing Owen wiping the soap from under his arms and along his thighs and calves, handling his private parts with surety. She wanted to watch him. That was the iniquitous thought that tortured her most. Despite the very real consequences of her tryst with Dewey and the way her living here with Owen was impacting her reputation, a wanton part of her wanted to lie with Owen fully. Naked and lustful and sinful.
She found herself against a wall and slid to the floor, feeling all sorts of pitiful as she dropped her head onto her knees. What was wrong with her? She had been raised better than this.
“I wasn’t expecting you back so soon,” Owen said as he came into the parlor.
She kept her arms hugged around her legs, too mortified by her irrational wants to lift her face and see if he had managed to clothe himself.
“I wanted to clean up for my meetings with the glassmaker and whiskey supplier. I’m dressed. You don’t have to hide your eyes.” Fabric rustled, though, as he finished closing buttons. “Mick has promised to give me whatever he can get his hands on, but P.J. sells bottles of liquor and tobacco. He might be able to suggest a distillery. I wouldn’t mind trying my hand at making my own, if I can find someone to show me. Why are you back so soon? Was the shop not open?”
“Not for me, it isn’t.” She dropped her hands down to her ankles and let her head fall back onto the wall, barely able to keep her mouth from sliding right off her face. “They wouldn’t serve me.”
“What?” He quit adjusting his suspenders, hands falling to his sides.
“Ivy Greenly was there. She told the woman not to sell me anything. She called me a soiled dove, because I’m living here with you.”
Owen swore under his breath. “Ivy Greenly should be careful who she picks fights with, especially when she doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
“Believe me, I would have told her she was full of shit if I could have, but I can’t,” she said with a pang of anguish in her throat. She folded her arms onto her upraised knees and hid her face with fresh dejection. “I am a soiled dove.”
This was his fault.
“For spending a couple of nights with me?” Owen chided lightly. “Temperance, you know we haven’t done anything we shouldn’t.” She’d watched a woman give birth. She knew how they were made. “Are you upset because you saw me naked?”
That had disconcerted him. He wasn’t shy, but he’d been startled by her sudden arrival and Clarence’s far too friendly behavior. Standing naked before her while she laughed at him hadn’t been comfortable, but he could see the funny side of it now that he was dry and warm and dressed.
“No,” she moaned and kept her face hidden. “I’ve been with a man, Owen.” Her voice was filled with such disgrace it caused a painful hitch in his heart.
He’d wondered about this. She had a certain air of experience, one that allowed her to flirt with a combination of confidence and jaded wariness. She could be na?ve at other times, sure, but nothing prepared a person for living rough like this except living it. Citified standards didn’t exist here, so she shouldn’t hold herself to them.
He crouched in front of her. “I’ve been with a woman. Three, actually. What does that make me?”
“A man who has turned three women into harlots?” she suggested, lifting her head to give him a baleful look.
“That’s not what they were, before or after. Two were widows. One had a husband she neglected to mention until after.” The first had taught him how to use a skin, and he might have stuck with the second longer if he hadn’t gone to California. The married one was the reason Virgil had such a nasty scar on his face. Owen had been more careful since, not willing to risk losing someone he cared about through his own stupidity. Not again.
“What happened?” He sat down in front of her, one knee up so he could rest his elbow on it. “You fell in love and he broke your heart? Please don’t tell me he hurt you, taking what you didn’t want to give.” That would kill him to hear. His chest tightened as he held his breath, bracing for the worst.
Her gaze was troubled, but she shook her head.
“No. He was someone I thought I could love, though. He’s the son of one of my father’s colleagues. He was charming, always quoting poetry and different books.”
Owen hated him even worse.
“I thought him witty at the time, but looking back, I see his jokes were always at someone else’s expense.” She picked at a spatter of mud on her skirt. “He’s very good looking and knows it.” Her lashes lifted and the light in her eyes was accusatory.
He knew he was good looking and yes, he used it. He’d been given very little to work with. He had a good memory, the ability to crack a joke, and a face that people trusted. All of that and years of backbreaking labor had got him this far. He refused to apologize for any of it.
“I thought marrying him would have kept me involved in my father’s professional life. Papa loves me, I know he does, but he has four other children plus my stepmother, Adelaide. It’s hard to get his attention, especially when I’m...” She shrugged. “He wasn’t properly married to my mother so I’m…” She lifted a wary gaze.
“Having parents who were married in a church doesn’t make them better than anyone else, Temperance. I promise you.”
“I know, but...” Her mouth pouted with hurt. “Adelaide thinks it does. At least when I work with Papa, I know I have a place in his life. I feel like he needs and appreciates me.”
“I forgot you have so much family to get back to.”
“I don’t, though,” she said with a fresh well of tears in her eyes. “Adelaide threw me out after she realized I’d been with Dewey. He refused to marry me.”
His name was Dewey? That’s what Virgil’s daughter called her baby brother’s penis. Put your drawers on, Harley. Everyone can see your dewey.
“Could your father not have put pressure on him? Talked to his father?”
“I didn’t want to marry him after I realized what sort of man he was!” she choked. “He said he would never marry a woman who has sex before she marries—after turning me into one! He said that’s how a man winds up with a disease. He only seduces virgins, so he won’t get the clap.”
Shit. Now he was going to have to make a special trip to Chicago and cut a man’s cock off, wasn’t he?
“I was so humiliated, I didn’t want my father to know any of it, but Adelaide realized we’d stop seeing one another and asked me what was going on. I broke down and confided everything. I thought we were finally talking as women, but she was horrified. And terrified I might be pregnant. Even though I wasn’t, she insisted I leave. She said I was no longer a suitable influence on her children, especially my little sister.”
“And your father allowed her to treat you that way?” His heart ached for her, it really did.
“Papa had been paying for my classes and I’d stayed at home a lot longer than other women my age. I understood why she wanted me to marry and make my own life. I understood why she was furious that I had thrown everything away, even the teaching career I wanted. What was Papa to do? Pick me, an adult who should have known better, over the rest of my siblings? I just thought...” Her breath caught on a sob. She reached out to scratch Clarence’s ear as he came to lay beside her. “We had received Mr. Gardner’s letter a few weeks before all of that happened. When Adelaide kicked me out, I thought if I came away with Papa and showed her that I help him support the rest of the family, she would come around.”
“Then your father fell and left you here while he traveled home.”
“Yes.” She pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and blew her nose into it. “If I could teach or do something respectable, I would, but I’ve made poor choices here too. Now people are seeing me for the fallen woman I am. How am I supposed to go on?”
“Christ, Temperance. This is...” He couldn’t call it ‘nothing.’ That would be cruel, but her mistake was such a small, single tear in an ocean of them. “Do you know what I’ve done? I talked Virgil into leaving his wife and children to chase an illusion.”
“Gold? But you found some.”
“Not in California. You want to know why I’m helping Mavis? Because I still feel so damned guilty about Clara. Virgil sent all his wages and half of mine back to her, but it wasn’t enough.” Clara had had to take in boarders, and Virgil was raising the product of that. He didn’t resent the boy, but it still hung on Owen’s conscience that he’d pushed Virgil to come with him and put his friend in the position he was in.
“He was a grown man, though,” Temperance said softly. “It was his choice to go with you. It’s not your fault that he did.”
“He would say he was as gold-fevered as I was, yes.” He had said it. “We both came from nothing and were willing to do anything for something. Virgil never would have gone if I hadn’t been so adamant, though. He worries I can’t look after myself because...” He waved at his head, even though it went beyond the fact he couldn’t read. “What does it say about me that he thought a woman with a baby and another on the way was better able to look after herself than I am?”
“Owen.”
“No, listen. That’s not even the worst thing I’ve done.” He chewed the corner of his mouth, not having ripped open this wound in a long time, but he refused to let her eat her heart out over something that was no real character flaw. “I told you my little brother died. Linus. I was eight. He was four. He couldn’t read, either, because he was too young. And he said?—”
This was when he always begged God to take him back to that moment and try, at least try to read the fucking sign.
“He said, ‘What does that sign say?’ I said I didn’t know. It was a hot day and I wanted to go swimming.”
“Owen,” she whispered. Her hand came out, palm up, inviting him to accept comfort.
He refused. He closed his eyes and refused to let the pain be anything less than devastating.
“There was a current. They found him down the river. I wish my father had beat me. I really do. Instead, it was just... Silence. We weren’t a rich family, but we got by. After that, though, he left. My mother lost what little we had. It was hellish misery for years, Temperance. Years of living in the town where everyone knew I was the kid who had caused his little brother to drown.”
“You were a child, though.” She leaned forward, catching at his hand.
He snatched hers up, holding it tight. Not enough to hurt, but enough to grip her full attention.
“If you’re prepared to forgive me for those things, then you need to forgive yourself for something that didn’t cause anyone any harm at all.” He released her.
Her mouth quivered and she pulled her hand back to tuck it under her elbow.
“I need to run out for a few minutes,” he said. “Make some coffee and work on my budget.” She’d been drawing pretty columns of numbers in the ledger book last night and seemed to take a lot of pride in it. “I won’t be long so think twice about starting a bath.”
Her somber expression softened a little. Her lashes came up. “I would have screamed, too, if Clarence goosed me while I was in my bath.”
“I didn’t scream.” He pretended to be offended. “I thought I handled it as elegantly as I could, under the circumstances.”
“Elegant.” Her cheeks went hollow. “Yes, that’s the word I was looking for.” Enjoyment crept into her eyes, which was a vast improvement from the guilt and gloom that had shadowed them a few minutes ago.
“I need to take the lady’s maid with me.” He rose and snapped his fingers at the dog.
“Don’t get rid of him!” she said with alarm, catching the dog around his neck with both arms to hug him close.
“I won’t. I’ll bring him back before I head out on the rest of my business.” He was reluctant to leave her, but now that he knew how badly she’d been treated—not just by Ivy, but by that bounder in Chicago—he wanted to do something to alleviate it.
“Owen?” she said in a small voice as he walked toward the door.
“Yes?” He turned back.
She was still on the floor, arms around her knees, mouth unutterably sad. “I’m really sorry about your brother.”
“Me, too.” He left, blowing out an agonized breath that puffed on the afternoon air.