They Finally Saw My Hands

Cole waited for Vivian to answer. When she looked away, his attention returned to me.

"How many times did you call?"

"Three. I tried the telephone before I decided to come myself."

His expression shifted. "I called the ward twice. Once you were out, and once the nurse said Rose was sleeping. I left messages."

"I didn't get them."

"The nurse said she wrote down the second call. I'll ask what happened to it."

"I called here," I said. "Vivian told me not to assume there would be a wedding."

"And I didn't know you'd been calling here."

Across the room, Vivian adjusted the bracelet on her wrist.

Margaret looked at her. "You were answering the telephone."

"There were so many calls. Richard needed peace. I may have forgotten one or two."

Cole took the message pad from beside the telephone. He turned the first page, then another.

"You wrote down the florist's call. And the pharmacy. And somebody asking about a newspaper interview."

Vivian's chin lifted.

"Are you accusing me of something?"

"I'm asking why you answered her question about our wedding."

"Nothing was final."

"It wasn't yours to finalize."

Cole turned.

"You don't decide which messages I receive."

"I was helping your family."

"Then help. Don't manage my life."

Her eyes filled. "We've known each other since we were children."

"And I've never asked you to be my wife."

The words landed hard. Even I flinched.

He continued more quietly. "I don't want to hurt you. But being unclear would hurt you longer. Ella is the woman I want to marry."

Vivian looked toward Margaret, waiting for someone to soften what he had said.

Margaret stood.

"Come back when you're ready to be civil to our guest," she told Vivian. "You needn't stay for lunch today."

Vivian left without looking at me.

Cole took my hand as soon as the door closed.

"I'm sorry. I should have found a better way to keep in touch."

"Yes, you should."

"Next time you'll have the number where I actually am. Not where somebody says I might be."

I nodded. The knot beneath my ribs began to loosen.

It lasted approximately twelve minutes.

The doorbell rang again. Ruth returned with my father and Diane, who had arrived prepared to be wronged loudly.

"We need an explanation," Diane announced. "You don't get to sleep with a girl and then leave her family to deal with the consequences."

Dad followed her gaze and saw me beside Cole.

His shoulders dropped.

Diane looked at my new coat and changed her expression so quickly I might have admired it under other circumstances.

"Ella. There you are. We were worried."

"No, you weren't."

Margaret glanced at Cole.

"What is she referring to?"

I had planned to explain privately. Diane had taken that from me too.

Cole squeezed my hand once, then released it.

"Ella and I met before we knew who the other was," he said. "She's pregnant. The baby is mine."

Margaret looked between us. Surprise crossed her face, followed by something much harder to read.

"And you waited until now to tell me?"

"It wasn't only my news to tell."

She turned to me. "Are you all right?"

That wasn't the question Diane had hoped for.

"I am now," I said.

"There was an unfortunate incident," Diane began. "Ella can be impulsive—"

"My father put something in my drink," I said. "I heard them planning to take me to Cole's room so the Whitmores would feel obliged to honor the engagement. I ran away."

Dad sat down without being invited.

Diane gave a shocked little laugh.

"That's an outrageous accusation."

"The inn called a doctor. There are people who saw the condition I arrived in."

"That doesn't mean your father—"

"You asked him whether I'd drunk all of it."

"I asked whether you'd drunk the lemonade. You're twisting everything."

"Then why did you tell him I wouldn't have much fight left?"

She looked at Dad.

He stared at the carpet.

"Frank," Margaret said. "Look at me."

He did, reluctantly.

"Is there anything you want to say?"

"We thought the marriage would help everybody."

"Everybody?" I repeated.

Dad tried to look at me. His eyes slid away.

"You wouldn't meet him otherwise."

"You could have asked me."

"You always say no to Diane."

The admission was so ugly and so ordinary that I felt suddenly cold.

Cole rose. Dad recoiled before he had taken a step.

"Sit down," Cole said.

Dad sat.

Cole stopped beside my chair. He didn't raise his voice. That made the room feel smaller.

"You gave your daughter a drug because she might refuse a meeting. Then you came here demanding money for her. Is there any part of that you want us to misunderstand?"

Diane stood too.

"We didn't know he'd be the man she found. It worked out, didn't it?"

Margaret looked at her as though she had never heard a language more foreign.

"You don't get to call the outcome permission."

The room became terribly quiet.

Margaret walked over to me. She took my hands, then looked down at them.

The scars from the meat hooks had faded. The calluses hadn't. There were little splits beside my nails from washing in cold water.

She turned one palm upward in hers.

"How long have you been working for them?"

"Since I was a child. Properly since sixteen."

"Were you paid?"

Diane answered. "She had a home."

Margaret's fingers tightened around mine.

"She asked Ella," Cole said.

I shook my head.

Margaret looked at Dad and Diane. "You came here to demand that someone take responsibility. Begin with yourselves."

They tried to argue. She didn't permit it.

Margaret asked Ruth to bring the telephone. She called the officer who had been speaking to Grandma's ward and explained that there was further information about what had happened to me before the injury.

Dad went white.

"We could settle this between ourselves."

"You came hoping we would," Margaret said. "We won't."

Diane looked at me.

"Ella, tell them you're upset. Tell them you don't want your father dragged into this."

I could see the old route she expected me to take: worry about Grandma, worry about the shop, worry about what people would say, and finally worry about everybody except myself.

"I want to tell them what happened," I said.

Cole's hand touched my shoulder. Not guiding me. Staying beside me.

We gave our accounts separately that afternoon. My parents left with no money, no promise of a business introduction, and an appointment to answer questions they couldn't shout away.

Before Cole returned from seeing them out, Margaret drew me into a brief, careful embrace.

"You don't have to tell me anything else today."

I pressed my lips together. It was that or cry.

Later, Cole took me to meet Richard, who sat with his leg raised beside a stack of newspapers.

He asked whether we had thought about marriage beyond the urgency of a pregnancy.

Cole answered immediately. I took longer.

"I haven't decided every part," I said. "But I want to keep learning what a life with him would be like."

Richard nodded. "That's more useful than pretending you have no doubts."

He turned to his son. "She must be able to say no to you without fearing what it will cost her."

"She can."

"And you," Richard said to me, "mustn't accept him simply because he's offered shelter."

"I won't."

Cole glanced at me. I held his gaze.

"If we marry, I'll look after him too," I added. "I don't want everything to be his job."

Something softened in Cole's face that stayed with me long after we left the room.

That night, he knocked on my door carrying a small jewelry box.

Before opening it, he asked, "Do you like Julian?"

"Yes. He helped Grandma."

Cole's mouth tightened.

"He's my friend. I know exactly how charming he can be."

"Does being your friend make him less helpful?"

He sighed. "No."

"Then what are you asking?"

"Whether I'm going to spend the rest of my life competing with every decent man who brings you a cup of coffee."

I stared at him, then laughed.

He looked offended for about a second.

"It's not funny from here."

"Cole, Owen told me how he felt. I told him I couldn't accept. Julian has been kind. I haven't promised him anything."

"He admitted he's attracted to you."

"To you?"

Cole nodded.

"Then perhaps you should let me know before cross-examining me about coffee."

He rubbed his forehead. "I'm making a mess of this."

"A little."

"I'm jealous. I know it doesn't give me the right to order you around. I just wish I knew what I was to you."

"Julian really said he liked me?"

Cole's jaw tightened again.

"Yes. In the garden. Very helpfully."

"And what did you say?"

"Something unhelpful."

I looked up at him.

"Did you hit him?"

"No. I wanted to. He offered to arrange an ice pack before I'd even moved."

I laughed despite myself.

Cole didn't laugh. His hand settled on the doorframe above my shoulder, close enough that I became very aware of the space between us.

"I watched you laugh with him at dinner," he said. "You were comfortable. You still look at me as though you're expecting a bill."

My smile faded.

"I'm trying not to."

He lowered his hand.

"I know. That's what makes it impossible to be sensible about you."

The honesty stopped my smile.

I stepped forward and put my arms around his waist.

He stood motionless, then folded me carefully against him.

"You're the person I came to see," I whispered.

His chin rested against my hair.

After a while, he opened the box. Inside lay a simple gold pendant, small enough to wear every day.

"No bargain attached," he said. "I saw it and thought of you."

I let him fasten it.

His fingers brushed the back of my neck, then stilled.

"I want to marry you," he said quietly. "But I want more than your agreement. I hope you know that."

I turned toward him. We were close enough that the chain caught lightly against his shirt.

"You're a very demanding man."

"I've been told."

"I thought you were offering a patient courtship."

His gaze moved from my eyes to my mouth.

"I am. I didn't say it was comfortable."

He waited until I let my hand rest against his chest. Then he bent and kissed me, once, softly enough to give me room to step back.

I didn't step back.

When he lifted his head, his voice had roughened.

"I'll go before I ask for something else."

I closed the door afterward and leaned against it, fingers touching the pendant.

For the first time, I wasn't wondering whether he wanted to stay.

I was wondering why I had let him leave.