Hat's Off! (Christmas Holiday Extravaganza) Read online

  A pang twisted in her stomach at the forlorn tone of his voice. Despite his words, he must belong somewhere. She needed Philip. “Wait here, sir.”

  His head dropped again and she hurried upstairs and knocked on Philip’s door, grimacing at the grouchy tone in his voice when he groaned, “What?”

  “There’s a man outside. He’s sick and sitting in the snow.”

  A loud sigh sounded, and Philip appeared at the door, his hair disheveled. He turned his head toward the room behind him. “Go back to sleep, Maddie. Everything’s fine.”

  Philip pulled on a robe and followed Kay down the stairs. He grumbled under his breath, muttering something too low to hear. At least he wasn’t directing his ire at her. She hated it whenever he was upset.

  Halting at the front window, Philip squinted into the night. “There he is. Why don’t you go back to bed?”

  “You might need my help. He’s sick.”

  Philip blew out a breath and scratched his head. “All right. Wait here.”

  She watched at the window, trying to decipher the few scattered words from the faint hum of their voices. Philip hoisted the man upright and herded him toward the shop. From the open doorway, frigid air swirled around her, sending a shiver down her spine.

  Shock widened her eyes as she beheld Aaron’s face, an uncharacteristic slackness in his jaw and a dull expression in his unfocused gaze.

  “Close the door, Kay,” Philip said over his shoulder as he steered Aaron onto a chair, pressing his shoulders against the back of it to steady him upright.

  She pushed the door shut, hunched herself into the warmth of her robe, and stared at Aaron. “He looks awful.”

  “He’s drunk. I’ll get him some water.” Philip didn’t sound shocked but matter-of-fact instead. How odd.

  She’d never viewed a drunken man up close before. Nerves mixed with curiosity stole through her as she studied him. Philip left the room, and Aaron slumped sideways. She darted to him and pulled him straight before he fell off the chair. He grabbed a handful of the collar of her robe and she stiffened in surprise. He focused his bleary eyes past her.

  “I told them not to go there,” he slurred. “I told them, but they went anyway.” A tear dropped down his cheek. “All of ʼem dead. Did you see that?”

  What on earth was he talking about? She shook her head, sorrow at his obvious pain gnawing a hole in her cautious reserve toward him. Poor man.

  But it wasn’t legal to drink. He must know that. Her voice came out shaky. “I hope…you don’t get into trouble.”

  He brought his gaze to her. The depth of sorrow in his eyes made her breathing catch. “Trouble,” he muttered and blinked, exhaling sour breath in her face before he dropped his head. “Trouble.” He grew still, his chest rising and falling while he released his grasp of her robe.

  She stared down at his work-muscled hand, lying limp against his knee. How vulnerable he seemed, how sad. Her heart ached for his despair, but what caused it? Who or what was dead? Cowboys, cattle? She hadn’t heard of any bad news or calamities in the area. She hovered next to him, afraid to go and sit in case he started to list sideways again.

  A slight snore sounded in his nose, and she let her gaze take in his appearance. Dark eyebrows slashed above his closed eyes, and tiny dots of stubble along his jaw accentuated the line of his chin. A hint of a few gray hairs threaded through the deep brown hair at his temples. Even in his drunk state, he displayed a handsome dignity. Surprised at her reaction to him, she stepped away gladly when Philip emerged, holding a large tumbler of water.

  Finding an inebriated man attractive was not something she considered acceptable. Annoyed with herself, she sat in a chair and averted her gaze.

  Philip coaxed, “Aaron, wake up…drink some water.”

  She returned her attention to the two men. “Phil, maybe he shouldn’t have any. It might make him sick again.”

  Philip scowled at her. “Let me handle it. Why don’t you go back to bed?”

  Maybe she’d better. Phil looked pretty disgruntled. She stood and couldn’t resist retorting, “Fine,” before she stalked off. Why should he be rude to her anyway? It wasn’t her fault Aaron was drunk and needed help.

  She halted at the top of the stairs when a cry of “Get down!” issued from Aaron. She froze, listening.

  Philip’s voice, low and soothing, answered. “It’s all right. There’s nothing there.”

  “Tell the lieutenant. It’s a trick. They won’t listen to me.”

  “I’ll tell him.”

  Silence followed before a moan sounded, and then strings of “no”. The anguish in his voice made her blood run cold while the skin of her arms prickled. Broken sobs began, and the sound weakened her knees. She slumped on to the landing, covering her mouth. She’d never heard a man cry like that. What was happening to him?

  After a few deep breaths, she rose and tiptoed back downstairs to peek at the two men. Both of Aaron’s fists clutched Philip’s robe, his face turned up to her brother. “Help them,” he begged, tears falling, his expression twisted with pain.

  “I’ll try,” Philip said in a calm voice, standing steady.

  Kay’s stomach ached at the spectacle. Philip caught sight of her and shook his head, then jerked it toward the upstairs. She obeyed and climbed the staircase. Her brother didn’t seem upset at all. Perhaps this wasn’t as awful as it seemed. Wouldn’t Phil act more concerned if it were?

  She waited, poised outside her door before going in. She had to know if Aaron was all right. No wonder drinking was against the law. Why would anyone want to do it if this is what happened? After minutes passed with only some low murmurs from downstairs, she made her way back to bed, covering her head with the blankets, shaking a bit as she calmed down. Poor Aaron.

  She wished Elliot were there to hold her, and tell her why this was happening. Or if she could just go back downstairs and help somehow. Tears for herself and for Aaron soaked into her pillow.

  Chapter Three

  Philip was grouchy next morning at breakfast, cutting off her questions with short replies. Kay forced down her irritation. Why wasn’t she allowed to get detailed answers about what happened last night? And Maddie didn’t even act as though she wanted to know.

  After the strained meal, Kay flounced to her work desk and pressed her lips together. Might as well think on something else while she worked. But the sights and sounds of Aaron’s distress from the previous night wouldn’t allow her to relax into her usual work routine of thoughts about books or the humming of favorite tunes. Her fingers made progress while her thinking stalled, circling around the disturbing memories.

  She couldn’t shake the painful effect of that haunting desperation in his eyes when he looked up at her. What happened to devastate him so? Is that what getting drunk did to people? Mother had never let her attend temperance meetings with her. Maybe they told about disturbing experiences like the one with Aaron, and that was the reason.

  Indignation rose up to join her festering irritation. Everyone treated her as though she were a girl. She’d been a woman for years now. A married woman, now a widow. Did they think she didn’t understand life? No, she was expected to exist as though she were back in childhood, unaware of passions or struggles. Relegated to sewing and sitting. At least she could read what she wanted, though the choices out here were paltry compared to home.

  Oregon was supposed to be a big transition, some kind of adventure. She glanced out the window and sighed. Well, at least it was pretty here. Was there change in the air, like Phil said? But he’d been talking about political changes when he made that statement. She studied the gray-white sky. Intermittent flakes of snow swirled outside. She forced her attention back to sewing buttons on a shirt.

  * * *

  How long had she been staring? Her usual mid-afternoon slump started early and neither hot coffee nor mental correction roused her out of it. Her mind skittered away from any sustained focus. Maybe she should plead infirmity and go lay d
own for a while as soon as Philip returned from picking up packages from the rail station.

  A jolt of instant energy hit her with a cold shock when Aaron walked in the door. Hat off, he gave her a curt nod and stopped at the counter, peering around the shop. He cleared his throat. “Philip here?”

  The skin of his normally tanned cheeks appeared washed-out, and his blue eyes held some hints of redness at the corners. His hands clutched the rim of his hat, working it a bit with his strong fingers. A sudden memory of his hand clutching her robe surfaced, and she swallowed. “He’s at the train station. Can I help you?”

  “Nope.” He walked to the window and stood, his eyes scanning the street. His quick, rude reply offended her. And after she’d tried to help him last night, too. What was wrong with him? She kept her angry gaze fixed on him. The silence grew uncomfortable and he turned his head to her. A slight frown flickered across his mouth. “Got something to say?”

  She straightened her spine. His gruff remark further fueled her irritation. “Probably more than you do, I imagine.”

  His brows knit for a moment. “What’s that meant to mean?”

  She crossed her arms. “Just what I said. Would it pain you to be polite?”

  First, an expression of surprise opened his eyes wider for a second, followed by a set jaw. He gave an exaggerated bow and flourish with his hat. “Beg pardon. Ma’am.”

  He parked his hat back on his head and regarded her. “Satisfied?”

  What a lout he was. Couldn’t even bring himself to thank her for last night’s assistance or for fetching Philip to help him. It seemed impossible this was the same desperate, hurting man. Why did she bother talking to him?

  She raised her chin and glared at him. “If that’s your idea of polite, I have nothing to say to you.”

  “Suits me.” His self-satisfied expression pushed her over the edge.

  Fury flooded her, bringing a flash of hot energy. She stood, so angry her legs almost shook. She resisted the urge to dress him down and decided instead to vacate the room. Now. When she passed close, he shot a palm out as though to halt her, and she faced him and gave his cheek a stunning slap.

  She felt as surprised as he looked. A charged silence hovered between them and she stood still, shocked at her action. He rubbed his face and stared at her.

  His voice rumbled out, “I was going to apologize, but I’m not so sure, now.” A hint of a wry smile hovered on his lips.

  Embarrassment leached away her anger. She took a hard swallow before saying, “Whether you do or not, I must. I’m sorry for hitting you.”

  His widened eyes studied her. “Why did you? Was I that rude?”

  “Well…” Her gaze darted away from the sight of his open expression and the angry red mark on his cheek. A sudden sensation of amusement at her audacious reaction made her smile. “Probably not. I’m not quite myself today.”

  “Neither am I, I guess.” He touched his hat brim and gave her a shadow of a grin. “Sorry for being unfriendly, ma’am.”

  She smoothed her skirt and met his eyes. “Me, too.”

  An awkward pause ensued, while she wondered if she should go back and sit. Philip breezed through the door and she drew in a breath, retreated to her desk, and picked up her work. Her amusement faded as she remembered how forceful her slap was. It shocked her to realize that a part of her enjoyed it.

  I can’t believe I slapped him.

  She forced her hands to sew, still stunned at her explosion.

  Philip set down his packages and reached a hand to Aaron. “How’re you feeling today?”

  “Not too bad. Came to thank you. Fergus says you brought me home last night.”

  Kay glanced at him. Didn’t Aaron remember? And why did he seem different to her now, as though she didn’t know him? What a strange afternoon it was today.

  Philip shook his head. “No need for thanks. I was glad to help.”

  Aaron flashed a glance in Kay’s direction. She dropped her eyes before his gaze touched her and then glanced up when he turned his back to her and leaned toward Philip. Low mumbling was all she could make out. What were they saying? Why wasn’t she allowed to hear? Curiosity pressed hard and made her shoulders tense up.

  Maybe she ought to blurt out a question and see what happened. No, she’d acted out enough already. Goodness, her mood was peculiar. Mother would be shocked. She imagined the appalled expression on her mother’s face at the way she’d slapped Aaron and stifled a giggle.

  Aaron straightened up, shook Philip’s hand, and stopped walking when he reached the door. Tipping his hat at Kay, he said, “So long, ma’am” and headed outside. She focused on the window, and before he walked past, his gaze locked with hers for a timeless, fixated moment before he disappeared from sight.

  Now, she wasn’t sure how to react to Aaron. Philip had turned to unwrap the packages, and thankfully, must not have noticed the look she and Aaron shared. He might’ve asked her what it meant, and she was at a complete loss concerning the way she’d answer that question. She stared at the last place she’d seen him, confused. His gaze had gone right through her.

  Chapter Four

  “Well, the lining is all set.” Kay beamed a triumphant smile at Philip. He strode to her desk and raised the top hat to eye level, inspecting it inside and out.

  He laughed and gave her a nod. “I said you could do this. It’s mighty fine.”

  He perched it on his head for a moment, then doffed it at her with a fancy bow. “Won’t Patrick look good with this on?”

  She giggled at his antics. “I’m so happy I didn’t ruin his wedding hat.”

  “You ought to have more faith in yourself.” Philip wagged a finger at her. “You can do a lot more than you think you can.”

  His words echoed in her awareness while she cleaned the scraps off her desk and put them in the ragbag. The simple comment opened up a confusing line of thought. How would she ever do more than she thought she could? Obviously, if she didn’t think she could do something, she wouldn’t try it. So how would she ever find out anything to the contrary? Sounded like a problem with no solution. She hated those.

  Her brows furrowed, she sat and pondered the problem. What exactly did she imagine as something impossible for her to do? Or something she shouldn’t do? Were they the same? The questions brought no clear answer and made her uncomfortable at the swirl of conflicting emotions they stirred up. Agitation popped her off the chair.

  “I’m going for a walk,” she announced, reaching for her outerwear hanging on pegs near the door.

  Philip glanced out the window. “Seems a little blustery out there. Bundle up.”

  She’d welcome a blast of fresh, cold air, but took his advice anyway. When the wind picked up, it penetrated even her sturdy wool coat. She stepped outside and pulled in a deep breath. The afternoon sunlight made her squint while her eyes adjusted to it. Most of the small-town streets were shoveled days ago, and the early snow had melted away except for a few scattered mounds on the roadsides.

  Trees sported their fall colors and delighted her eyes while she let her gaze travel the hillsides. Perhaps the recent snowfall indicated a longer winter ahead, though snow in October was fairly common here, from what Philip said.

  She didn’t recall any last October, but her arrival was so full of settling-in, she hadn’t noticed much about the weather. Making her way down the street, she nodded at the various passersby and decided to stop in at Webster’s lunchroom. One of their doughnuts would be a welcome treat.

  Kay entered and ambled toward a small table, inhaling the lovely mixed aromas of stews, meats, bread, and the unmistakable spicy fragrance of Anna Webster’s nutmeg-laced doughnuts. Kay almost shivered in pleasure at the luscious smell. Lanky teenager Calvin Webster approached her and waited while she settled her coat against the chair back.

  She smiled up at him. “I’ll have a doughnut and a cup of tea, please.”

  Calvin nodded and retreated to the kitchen. Even during off hou
rs for mealtimes, the lunchroom attracted patrons. Local business people and some county folk were represented. A few lumberjacks were hunched at the counter, teasing plump, pretty Anna as she filled their coffee cups and jested right back at them. Anna’s husband Wilbur manned the grill behind her, joining in with the banter.

  While she waited, Kay indulged in her favorite pastime of people-watching. Though she was on the other side of the continent from her home, the people here were quite similar to the ones she’d known in New York. But the political views weren’t as diverse, in her opinion. Why else would the Klan make such inroads so quickly in the last decade? Thank goodness their influence was waning now.

  She held no patience for unfairness or cruelty. Elliot always said that the good in people wins out, but it seemed to her that it often took an awful long while to do so. Though sometimes, it got a helping hand from some unusual sources, like outspoken Bessie Daniels, who was parked a few tables away, counting out coins near her finished plate of food.

  Kay had been told all about Bessie’s difficult adult years. The woman married at sixteen and raised two sons on her own after her hard-drinking lumber-mill husband died from a work accident four years into their turbulent marriage. Bessie spoke her mind in a penetrating, raspy tone made deeper by her habit of chain-smoking hand-rolled cigarettes. The voice fit well with her wiry, energetic body and short-cropped dark hair.

  It always surprised Kay to realize Bessie was only five years older than herself. Bessie inhabited that class of people who let go of softness and childhood dreams early, or perhaps never experienced them to begin with. She could be counted on to deflate anything or anybody she thought was foolish. No fast-talking politician or Klan organizer managed to stand up to her pronouncements.

  After hearing her opinion, Philip would often laugh, shake his head and murmur, “Thank God for Bessie Daniels.” He always said she showed more gumption than most men.

  A roar of laughter from the group at the counter grabbed her attention away from Bessie.