Chapter 37

Rain tumbled from the heavens, falling leisurely toward the earth and soaking everything in sight. Water pooled on the tops of the street lights, rolling over the blurred glass before skimming down the smooth iron frame and splashing against the cobblestones, sending miniature replicas leaping up as if in an attempt to escape before returning to its parent. The sky was a drab grey, covered with large clumps of darkened fluff.

As dreary, though, as the world seemed to be outside, Marjorie's world couldn't shine any brighter. The constant drumming of raindrops across the roof of the carriage provided a rhythm with which the grumble of thunder sang along, and Marjorie couldn't help but add her own little melody on top of it all. The carriage continued to bounce over the cobblestones, splashing through the puddles and sending shards of rainwater cascading into the air. Marjorie however was oblivious to all, including the two other figures who sat with her in the carriage. She clasped tightly to the gloves lying across her lap, thinking only of New York and the bright shining sun shimmering across the lake not far from Sarah's house. She would be there, with her friend, before nights end, and this thought was what turned the gloomy city that was Boston into her bright haven.

"Marjorie? Marjorie." A hand at her knee broke Marjorie's concentration, pulling her back to the dim carriage. Slowly, she turned her eyes to her father, as she realized that it was he who had been calling her name, directing the attention of both him and Michaela, toward her expectantly.

"What?"

"You have your extra gloves, and the wraps that Claudette gave you for Christmas?" Marjorie nodded her silent answer, distracted instead by the sight of the train station growing before them.

They had barely stopped before Marjorie was reaching for the handle of the carriage door, unable to contain her excitement. She gave no consideration for the fact that she would be soaked to the bone in seconds after leaving the protection of the carriage, nor did she stop to think about the men and women who hastily travelled in and out of the station under the cover of black umbrellas. What would propriety say of a damp sixteen year olds who ran out of carriages and into train stations? Instead, it was Joseph's hand on her arm holding her back, quietly demanding the he be the first one from the carriage while commenting in his wise voice, "Let Harrison get here with the umbrella first."

Inside the train station wasn't much different. Marjorie led the way from platform to platform, fingering the tiny ticket in her hand. Joseph was left trailing behind, carrying a brown leather valise in one gloved hand and the umbrella in another. He broadened his steps in an attempt to catch up to Marjorie's scurrying form, causing the tails of his over coat to trail behind, dripping at the ends as they did so. He never did catch up on his own, but was aided by Marjorie, who stopped abruptly and turned around.

"This is it." She pointed to a train car on her left, her smile widening and eyes glistening with pleasure. Joseph didn't think she'd smiled like that the entire time she had been in Boston, except for perhaps the night of her debutante. Turning his eyes to the train, he scanned the platform number and eyed the passengers getting on.

"So it is." He said with a nod. Somewhere in there, Michaela appeared by his side as if by magic, slightly out of breath for she had trailed even further behind than Joseph.

There was just a moment, as Joseph took note of the surroundings, examining people and the activity that was bustling along the platforms. As they stood there, another train entered the station, filling the building with the rhythmic clang of wheel against rail. The gears came to a sudden halt, locking the wheels and sending a screech through the air as a guarantee of its arrival. Marjorie looked to the train and back.

"Well, I suppose it's time for me to go." She started, rocking forward on her feet. Her words worked their magic, jarring Joseph into action with a sudden movement.

"Why yes, I suppose it is. Would you like me to accompany you on the train and get you settled?" Marjorie shook her head.

"I'll be fine. It's only a few hours to New York and the conductor will help if I need anything." Joseph nodded.

It seemed to Michaela, who stood watching the interaction of her family quietly, that there was something that Joseph was trying to tell Marjorie, something he was trying to find the words for, but just couldn't, or perhaps he was biding time. Michaela wasn't sure, but she did know that his mind seemed a million miles away, as if it had already reached New York ahead of Marjorie.

Marjorie turned her attention to the valise her father held in his hand, also feeling the strangeness of his disposition this rainy morning. "May I?" She lifted her hand out.

"Yes, of course. You would be needing that, wouldn't you?" With a tight smile that spread under the thick waves of his grey-brown beard, he held the valise out, sifting its weight casually from his hand to her, pausing, as Fathers do, at the moment of transition to be certain the weight was not too heavy for his daughter.

"So, I'm going to get on now." Marjorie announced, shifting her gaze from Michaela to Joseph and back.

"Have a safe travel, and enjoy Sarah's company." Joseph seemed to break from his trance long enough to offer a few kind words. "And I think I'd appreciate a telegram once you make it to New York, to let us know you are safe."

Marjorie nodded at his words. Was this all there was? Somehow, she thought leaving home would be much harder. It always seemed that Sarah was talking about how she never really wanted school to start; she always wanted to postpone it a week to stay with her family. This wasn't the case with Marjorie, though. Her legs were aching to climb the steps and settle herself into her seat for the trip, but wasn't there supposed to be more?

In her peripheral vision, she could see a man disembarking from a train quickly to be embraced by a woman on the platform. Behind Michaela, were two children who were receive a constant shower of kisses by a man and woman who were carrying bags. Marjorie bit her lip. Perhaps… she stepped forward to Joseph and wrapped an arm around his shoulder in a quick hug before backing away. It had been the closest they had ever been physically since before she could remember, but she pushed it from her mind. Seconds after the embrace had ended she had forgotten the feeling of her father's hand at her back and the surprised but thankful smile he had given her. Quickly she turned to Michaela and added a kiss to her sister's cheek, who did all but recoil. (Michaela would later liken the peck to being kissed by a fish, wet and clammy.)

Taking a deep breath as if her duty had been complete, she smiled. "I'll write soon," and with nothing else she turned and boarded the train.

Though she took a seat on the opposite side from where Joseph was sitting, he and Michaela nonetheless waited until train had kicked to life, gears shifting, smoke bellowing, and whistle blowing its intent before they turned to leave. The train passed them in a blur of speed taking Marjorie away from Boston, her family, and her home. Michaela slipped her hand into Joseph's palm.

The city grew small behind Marjorie; the once strong buildings of Boston became small and miniscule, as if they could blow over if the wind proved too strong. The grassy meadows soon replaced any visions of stone or brick and the rain stopped long enough for the sun to come out, shimmering across the freshly watered grass, making it look like a sea of green. It wasn't until now that Marjorie opened her valise and pulled the tightly sealed envelope out. Robert had given it too her the night before. "For entertainment on your trip," he had told her.

The envelope had been settled between the pages of her arithmetic book by means of keeping it flat. Quickly she'd pulled the paper out and with a swipe of her finger had shredded the top to reveal the letter left inside.

Marjorie,

I hope it not to forward of me that I should write to you. I was hoping to get the chance to tell you what a wonderful time I had this fall, meeting you and getting to know you. There isn't a finer dancer in all of Boston, and I enjoyed the opportunity to be your partner on many occasions. I hope you do not choose to stay away for long. Return to Boston, even if for the summer. I should like to see you.

Yours truly,

Robert Hathwell.

Marjorie lowered the letter to her lap, a pleased smile across her face. Turning her attention to the window, she considered the past few months. It hadn't been a complete waste, and she had enjoyed Robert's company very much. Scooting down in her seat so that her feet would reach to the cushion across from her, she made a mental note to write Robert once she arrived in New York.

Michaela's spoon clanked against the bottom of her soup bowl, signaling that there wasn't much left despite the growl of protest that her stomach made. With a thorough lick of her spoon, she dropped it next to the bowl and reached for her napkin. Dabbing the corners of her mouth, she glanced around the room. The tearoom of the Dryson hotel was tall and airy, with large sweeping windows and flowing drapes. The walls were lined with wooden panels and dozens of tables scattered across the room, most occupied by society women with their large feathered hats and dainty lace gloves sipping tea and eating cucumber sandwiches, and then there was Michaela and her father, sitting at their favorite table next to the window that overlooked the courtyard.

Her eyes turned back to Joseph sitting across from her, sipping on his tea. "It's really quiet," she commented, watching the glass make the smooth arch back down to the table. Joseph looked up at her, licking his lips before smiling.

"I don't suppose I've been very talkative today, have I?" Michaela shook her head. "I apologize for that. I just couldn't help thinking about Marjorie going back to school. I've been wondering if it's right to send her so far away, if I shouldn't have tried to keep her closer."

Michaela reached across the table and took a piece of break from the basket. "But I thought she liked school?"

"So she does." Joseph tried to lighten his countenance into an affirmation of Michaela's observance, but something still bothered him. Part of him couldn't help but wonder if Marjorie liked school because of her friends or because of her distance from Boston. I've done this; I've messed it up from the very beginning. It was the realization that he had refused to let himself think until this morning. However, he somehow felt as if, by allowing her the trip to New York he had pleased her in ways he would never understand. There was nothing he could do now except turn his attention to the daughter he still had, sitting across the table from him chewing on her lip. "What's the matter?" he asked, this time, in the here and now as if waking from the dream in which he spent all morning. He tilted his head, considering Michaela's frowning eyes and wrinkled forehead worriedly. She looked up and him with uncertain eyes, glancing left and right she leaned over the table.

"Is it… is it ok to say that I'm glad she's gone?"

"Why would you say that?"

Michaela shrugged. "Things were different with her here. I missed it being just us."

Joseph sighed, thinking back over the past few months. Michaela had suffered from the change more than anyone else, between Marjorie's fickle temperament and lack of attention, her world had changed beyond recognition. How could she not be excited at the opportunity for it to go back to the way things were. "I can understand that." He nodded. "You've had a quite a few busy months, yourself."

Michaela's brow furrowed deeper as she reached across the table for another chunk of bread, "what do you mean." Joseph caught her hand mid way to the basket and tapped it back to her side of the table before reaching for half of the sandwich he had been nibbling on and laying on a plate before her. Michaela smiled sheepishly.

"Well, you've been to two balls, done a good amount of shopping for dresses, and seemed to have attracted enough attention to be the talk of the town." Michaela cringed. She knew that whatever talk there was of her, it probably wasn't good.

"I thought it would be fun to dress pretty for the ball and to do some dancing," she shrugged her shoulders while devouring a piece of lettuce that had fallen from her sandwich, "but no one seemed to notice."

"David Lewis seemed to notice. He wanted me to tell you how pretty your dress was at New Years."

Michaela couldn't help but roll her eyes. Somehow, David didn't seem to count, he was the boy that took her for a walk by the bay and had talked to her about his studies, but he hardly seemed like someone who'd notice her dress or hair, or anything for that matter.

"If he did notice, he was the only one."

Unable to hold off the question any longer, Joseph looked at Michaela directly, his hand thumbing the edge of the table. "What is this fascination about boys noticing, anyway?"

The question startled Michaela, and the little girl could feel her cheeks flush. Boys noticing? Is that what she was doing? Somehow, she hadn't exactly thought of it in those terms, but now that her father had mentioned it, part of her recognized that that was precisely what she was doing. However, as soon as the realization of her true actions came, it was followed quickly that the recognition of something akin to disappointment in Joseph's voice. She felt a wave of embarrassment wash across her. Growing up, they had always talked about medicine and books, never boys or dresses, and although part of her enjoyed looking for her New Years dress, she couldn't help but feel that she shouldn't have liked it so. She had spent her entire life acting like boys, and despite, or even because of that, she and Joseph were very close. Was he upset because she wanted to be like a girl too? All the thoughts went rumbling through her head in a blur, realizing themselves to her for the first time and overwhelming her. She batted her eyes against the tears that were threatening to overflow. Shaking her head disjointedly, "nothing, it's nothing." She whispered.

Joseph was shocked at the drastic change in Michaela's face. Though he couldn't see the tears, he noticed an unidentifiable emotion spread across his daughter's face that left her reaching for her tea glass and glancing out the window as she drank. He wasn't sure what he had said or did, but judging by the way she avoided his stare, he knew that it shouldn't be talk about here, and so, setting his jaw, he made a quick decision, albeit right or wrong he would never know.

Pulling the napkin from off his lap, he laid it across his plate. "Well, if you are finished I'll take you home before I have to go to the clinic."

Michaela just nodded.

There it is! I hope you enjoyed it, let me know what you think!