Chapter Twenty-five
“Come on, Kate, can I go over to the Koenigs’ or not?” Minnie begged, her lower lip sticking out. “I never get to do anything fun!”
The two of them were working in the garden, though Minnie had been itching to leave all morning. Kate raised herself from the row of new peas and wiped her brow. Before she could answer, however, a vehicle rattled down the lane.
“It’s Edmund!” Minnie cried. “He’s back!”
Kate lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the sun and saw that it was indeed Edmund’s old Studebaker.
She carefully stepped over the rows and stood at the edge of the garden, wiping her hands on her apron, and watched the truck roll to a stop.
Be happy for him. Be happy for him. She repeated this over and over.
He had not returned yesterday as predicted, which Kate had not known how to interpret.
Perhaps he was having such a marvelous time in Chicago with Mary that he had stayed an extra day.
Or had he gotten caught up in the mess with Henry?
Or should she say, his soon-to-be brother-in-law?
Her father had already been to see Mr. and Mrs. Tierney and poor Vernon, who had, Dad reported bitterly, actually cried. No one had yet been able to trace the runaway couple.
The door of the truck swung open, and Edmund emerged. He was again dressed in overalls and boots rather than the fancy suit and shoes he had left in.
“Hi, Edmund!” Minnie called, running up to the truck. “Did you bring me something from Chicago?”
“Minnie!” Kate scolded.
“Well, did you?” she asked, ignoring Kate.
“Matter of fact, I did.” He handed her a small brown bag.
Minnie peeked inside. “Candy!” she cried. “Oh, thanks, Edmund!” She gave his middle a brief hug and then jogged across the yard toward the house.
“I didn’t say you were finished!” Kate called after her.
“I’ll be right back!” Minnie shouted and pounded up the back steps.
“Hi, there,” Edmund said, looking at Kate with his crooked smile, his dimples showing.
Kate’s insides twisted, and she had to momentarily look away. “You’re back,” is all she could think to say, finally forcing herself to look up at him, tenting her eyes with her hand. She inhaled a deep breath and then let it out. “Am I to congratulate you?”
Edmund let out a weak little chuckle. “Sadly, no.”
“No?” Had Mary rejected him? Or had he changed his mind? “What . . . what happened?” She tried not to say it too eagerly.
“Turns out she wasn’t there.” He smiled sheepishly. “My big surprise failed.”
“What do you mean she wasn’t there?”
Edmund stuck his hands in his pockets. “She was staying downtown with a friend, apparently. At least that’s what the housekeeper told me.”
“Edmund, none of this makes sense! Start from the beginning.”
“Well, there’s not all that much to tell. Henry dropped me off at their house in Oak Park. Said he had some business to attend to, but that Mary would be there to entertain me.”
Kate wondered if his “business” had been to drive back to Wisconsin and abscond with Louisa!
“He wished me luck, and all that. You see, I had asked him on the way for Mary’s hand, seeing as they have no parents, and he said she and I could do as we pleased.
That he had no jurisdiction over his sister and that she was free to choose as she liked.
So in I go, but turns out there’s no one home except an old housekeeper.
She tells me that ‘Miss Mary’ is not at home.
It was hard to understand her to be honest. Had a strange way of speaking. ”
“They live there alone?”
Edmund shrugged again. “Guess so. Their parents died. Left the two of them that big old house. It’s nice enough, but it’s a little shabby. Has a lonely feel to it.”
“So, it was just you there?” Kate found this whole story incredibly odd.
“Well, there was the housekeeper, as I said. And a cook, I think. Maybe another maid. I’m not sure. The housekeeper was able to get me to understand that Miss Mary was staying downtown with a friend. She was clearly suspicious of me, though I tried to explain that I was a friend of Mary and Henry.”
“How strange that Henry did not come in and explain . . .”
“Well, he was obviously unaware that Mary wasn’t home.
Seemed in a mighty big hurry.” He scratched his chin.
“Anyway, I finally got the housekeeper to understand me, and she took me upstairs to one of the guest rooms. Kept bringing me coffee and tea and cookies. I asked if she could telephone Mary or Henry, but she kept saying, ‘No number, no number.’ I stayed the night and the better part of the next day waiting for Mary to turn up, until I came to my senses.” He let out a deep breath.
“It was my own fault. I should have told her I was coming. I left a note for her and hitched a ride back home. So much for me trying to be romantic. I feel like an idiot.” He smiled sheepishly again.
Kate stared at him, bewildered. But this meant that he was . . . that he was not yet engaged . . . “So you never saw either of them?”
He shook his head. “No, Henry never came back, either. I was tempted to just stay and look around the old place—so many rooms and nooks and crannies, and real interesting things on the shelves, stuff from Egypt an’ all over—but I couldn’t afford to do that, not with all the work back here.”
“But . . . but what about Henry and Louisa?”
“Henry and Louisa?” He seemed genuinely confused.
“You haven’t heard the news?”
“What news?”
“Henry and Louisa have eloped. That must have been why he was in such a hurry.”
Edmund’s face slackened. “What?”
“Yes, they . . . Louisa left a note at Aunt Bea’s. It’s been a few days already. He must have dropped you off and immediately drove to Milwaukee to run off with Louisa.”
“But why drive to Chicago at all? Why not drive directly from Merriweather to Milwaukee?”
“Perhaps to get his affairs in order? Withdraw money from his bank?”
“He did say he had business to attend to. . .” Edmund broke off, obviously deep in thought. “But I thought . . .” He looked at her questioningly. “I thought he loved you.”
Kate tilted her head and frowned at him in an “I told you so” sort of way.
“Kate, I—”
He was interrupted by the sound of another car bumping down the lane. It was a sporty Ford V8, and for a moment, Kate thought it might be the errant couple. The car rolled to a stop beside Edmund’s truck, but it was not Louisa and Henry who alighted. It was Mary Crawford!
“Oh, there you are!” Mary called. “I’ve just been over to your house, but I should have known to look here first. You practically live here, don’t you?”
She was all brightness and smiles, as if nothing bad was currently unfolding. She must not yet know.
“Oh, Edmund!” Mary gushed, laying her hand on his arm.
“I can’t believe I missed you at home! You don’t know how I’ve been chastising myself!
And that stupid Bella. I’ve instructed her a hundred times on how to use the telephone, and I left my number in the top drawer of the bureau.
But she’s simply hopeless, you know. I would have rushed back in an instant had I known you were in town!
I blame myself profusely, of course! And it wasn’t even a friend I particularly like, that’s the rub.
Instead, I could have been spending the weekend with you and having a jolly good time.
There are so many things I wanted to show you.
But you will come back, won’t you, Edmund?
I mean, you must have very badly wanted to see me if you came all that way.
You must have felt yourself to be in such a queer predicament.
And now poor Henry has gone and gotten himself in yet another pickle, hasn’t he? ”
“So, you know?” Kate asked tentatively.
Mary blinked rapidly. “Yes, he telephoned last night to tell me that he and Louisa are in St. Louis.”
“St. Louis?”
Mr. Kerwyn appeared at the back door. “You back, Ed? Well, that’s some good news, anyway.” He made his way across the muddy ground. “What are you doing here?” he said to Mary and flashed her annoyed look. “Where’s your brother?”
“Mary was just saying that she heard from Henry last night, Dad!” Kate said eagerly. “They’re in St. Louis.”
“St. Louis? Why? Are they married?”
“Yes, it seems so,” Mary answered, her gaiety leveling a bit. “Typical Henry!” she exclaimed. “He’s always getting himself in these sorts of scrapes.”
“A scrape is what a ten-year-old gets himself into, not a grown man. And I don’t think, Miss Crawford, that this is a laughing matter. It’s almost killed my wife, and the Tierneys are right broken up about it.”
“I do beg your pardon, Mr. Kerwyn,” Mary said, adjusting her tone to one of gentle condescension, “but it’s not a tragedy, is it?
I mean, I’m sorry for Louisa’s poor fiancé, but isn’t it better for them to find out now that they weren’t suited?
And, really, this happens all the time,” she said enthusiastically. “Personally I think it quite romantic.”
She glanced at Edmund, who shifted uncomfortably and scratched his chin again.
“Romantic?” Mr. Kerwyn sputtered. “This ain’t romance.
This is just plain irresponsible. Disgraceful.
Never thought a daughter of mine would do such a thing.
And, no, it doesn’t happen all the time!
Not around here, anyway.” Mr. Kerwyn glared at her.
“And you’re right bold to have even turned up here without an ounce of apology or remorse. ”
“Remorse? But why should I have remorse? If anyone should have remorse,” Mary replied starchily, “it should be Kate.”
Mr. Kerwyn’s eyes bulged. “Kate?”
“Yes, if Kate hadn’t rejected him—multiple times—he would not have been driven to run off with Louisa! She’s really the one to blame here.” Mary flashed her an accusatory look.
“Kate?” Mr. Kerwyn repeated incredulously. “Kate’s the only one that isn’t at fault in this situation. She read Henry correctly from the get-go. She knew. And I’m sorry I didn’t believe her.”
His face was red, redder than Kate had ever seen.
“It’s okay, Dad,” Kate said, rubbing his arm. She was suddenly worried he might be on the verge of a heart attack.
Mary tilted her head slightly, seemingly unaffected by his fury. “I don’t think you understand the full situation, Mr. Kerwyn,” she said, again condescending. “You aren’t privy to some of the things that have occurred between Kate and Henry.”
Kate’s face blanched. Nothing had occurred between them!
Was she referring to all of the gifts he had sent?
Or was she referring to his kiss the night of her birthday party?
Had he actually told his sister about it?
Even if he had, she tried to counter, the kiss had meant nothing!
She opened her mouth to retort, but before she could, Edmund interjected.
“And what would that be?” he demanded icily. “I won’t for a moment believe that Kate has done anything improper.”
“Who said anything about impropriety?” Mary said devilishly. “I simply mean there was an understanding of sorts between them.”
“No, there wasn’t!” Kate spewed.
“Do you deny he visited you, cheered you, bought you gifts?”
“No, but I didn’t ask for them. And I certainly didn’t encourage him!”
“Did you, or did you not, tell him that you would seriously consider his proposal of marriage?”
“Yes, but . . .” she looked frantically from her father to Edmund, “but I turned him down.”
“Listen,” Mary said calmly and suddenly looped her arms through both Kate’s and Edmund’s.
“Let’s not worry about whose fault it is.
Henry is a very sensitive soul, and, well, when his heart was broken”—she looked pointedly at Kate—“he simply had to act. Thankfully, Louisa was there for him. All we can do now is simply to be happy for them and to help as much as we can.”
Edmund pulled his arm away. “How can you defend Henry in this, Mary?” he asked, genuinely perplexed.
“He has acted dishonorably on several occasions and still you take his part. Granted, there is sisterly affection, but this goes beyond that. You ask us not to point fingers, but you implicate Kate, who is completely blameless. All along she has stood her ground when no one else believed what a . . . what a liar Henry is. There. I’ve said it.
” He took a few steps away but then turned back.
“It’s like I don’t even know you.” He stared at Mary.
“How could I have been so blind as to think I loved you?”
“Edmund!” Mary cried, again laying her hand on his arm. “There is no need for us to quarrel! All will be well!” She tried foisting her sugary sweet smile on him, but it failed to elicit any response.
Edmund’s face remained hard as a rock. “No, it won’t.”
“Edmund!” There was a note of real panic in Mary’s voice now. “Surely you are not so unjust as to judge me by my brother’s actions?”
“No,” he said, looking at her scornfully. “I’m judging you by yours.”
With that, Edmund marched to his truck and threw himself behind the wheel. Kate watched as his truck tore down the lane, still trying to make sense of what had just happened.