A Vote Of Confidence Part 18

What are you up to, McKinley? Harrison wondered as he stood with the rest of the crowd, applauding. Harrison wondered as he stood with the rest of the crowd, applauding.

A man didn't throw an election to his opponent unless he had something to gain from it. Was Morgan just interested in a pretty skirt or did he have another motive?

Whatever the reason, Harrison didn't like it. He didn't like it one bit. But even more problematic, in his mind, was Gwen Arlington's independent streak. She was proving to be difficult to control, as evidenced by her rejection of the advice he'd tried to give her. He still hadn't decided how he would bring her to heel.

Susannah placed her hand in the crook of his arm. "It's rather exciting to think we will have a woman mayor. How times have changed."

His wife was right. Times had changed. But not always for the better. For instance, it was well and good for women to have the vote - as long as they followed the guidance of their fathers or husbands in how to cast those votes. What he didn't like was the self-reliant streak that was becoming all too common among women in these early years of the twentieth century.

Which brought his thoughts back to Gwen, who was now surrounded by a number of well-wishers, including her father and that outrageous sister of hers.

Yes, we shall have to bring you in hand, Miss Arlington. Indeed, we shall.

"By George!" William Rudyard exclaimed as he slapped Morgan on the shoulder. "You are an unpredictable man, are you not? Whatever made you do that?"

Morgan grinned and shook his head. "I'm not sure, Billy. It wasn't planned. I didn't come here with that in mind. I guess Miss Arlington won me over during her opening remarks." He glanced once more in Gwen's direction, but he could no longer see her in the milling crowd.

"Beautiful women have changed the course of history more than once through the ages. I guess one has done so again." William laughed.

"I didn't do it because she's beautiful."

"Oh, I know that, son. I was joshing with you. You wouldn't have said what you did unless you thought she was the better candidate."

Morgan nodded. He hoped everyone had William's insight, and he hoped everyone understood how remarkable Gwen was. Her remarks had been intelligent, articulate, and right on point. He'd wager even the senator couldn't have given a better speech.

"Shall we return to your home? My friends and I want to get an early start in the morning."

"I'm ready." He stepped off the stage.

The room was beginning to empty out, and he caught a glimpse of Gwen, standing between her father and sister, talking to about a half dozen citizens. Her color was still high, and even from across the room, he could tell there was a look of exhilaration in her eyes.

"Pretty as the day is long," William said.

Prettier, Morgan thought. Much prettier. And smart. And kind. And caring.

William pointed toward the back of the room. "There's Clive and Jeremiah."

Morgan wasn't surprised to find the two other senators engaged in conversation with Harrison Carter, an attractive woman - presumably his wife - at his side. He had expected the commissioner to try to learn why the senators were in town. This had been the ideal place for him to do so.

Clive Austin grinned at Morgan as he and William approached. "Mr. McKinley, I believe you shocked every last person in the room."

Morgan inclined his head in acknowledgment.

"I'm glad I was here to see this," Jeremiah Hayes said. "Wouldn't have believed it otherwise."

"I merely said what I thought." Morgan turned his gaze on Harrison. "Here is one man who I know agrees with me. He's always thought Miss Arlington the better candidate."

Harrison's eyes narrowed slightly. "Indeed."

Clive said, "I was telling Mr. Carter how impressed I was with your health spa."

That must have thrilled him.

"And I would like to hear more, Senator Austin," Harrison said, "but it is time my wife and I returned home."

Farewells were exchanged, and then Harrison escorted his still-silent wife out of the bas.e.m.e.nt of the Methodist church.

"You have an enemy there," William said.

"I know, Billy. I just don't know why."

TWENTY-FOUR.

Gwen tapped her index finger against her upper lip as she frowned at the paper on her writing desk. A few days ago, she'd had half a dozen ideas for her next newspaper article. Today, each and every one seemed ba.n.a.l, completely uninspired, and overdone.

She could write about her surprise over her opponent's endors.e.m.e.nt, but that seemed rather self-serving. Besides, that had been the hot topic of discussion following Sunday services in every church in town. Was it possible anyone who might be interested hadn't heard what happened last Sat.u.r.day night?

The mantel clock chimed the hour. Two o'clock. Another hour until she was to be at Morgan's house for his lesson. b.u.t.terflies erupted in her belly at the thought.

She hadn't seen him since the night of the so-called debate, and she wasn't sure how she felt about seeing him today. With just a few words, he had almost a.s.sured her of winning the election. Should she thank him for it? Was there proper etiquette for a situation such as this? If so, she wasn't aware of it.

A sigh escaped her. How much simpler her life had been a month or two ago. She'd gone an entire year without seeing - let alone meeting - Mr. Morgan McKinley. The idea of running for mayor hadn't crossed her mind. She'd been perfectly content, living alone, visiting with her father and sister, writing her articles for the newspaper, and teaching her students. Now look at her. She couldn't concentrate long enough to write a paragraph. And she kept looking at the clock and thinking about her next student.

Morgan.

His wonderful smile. His easy charm. The way he'd touched her hand where it rested in the crook of his arm as he introduced her to his guests at the dinner party last Friday. His long fingers as they traveled over the piano keys during his lessons - almost like a caress.

Heat flooded her cheeks.

Never in her twenty-eight years had thoughts of a man pestered her like this. She found them unacceptable. They must stop. She must make them stop.

She rose from her writing desk and walked to the front porch. It had rained this morning. The air smelled fresher and the lawn looked greener - the colors of her flowers brighter with moisture clinging to blades, leaves, and petals. The sky was still overcast, the temperature cool. It might be wise if she drove her buggy to the McKinley home. But that was such a lot of work, getting her horse into the harness and traces, when she was going such a short distance. The clouds didn't look threatening. No, she would walk and take an umbrella along, just in case.

Gwen checked her watch. Not yet ten minutes after the hour. Oh, how time crawled today.

"Fool," she muttered. "Go and write this instant."

Inhaling a deep breath, she turned and reentered the house, determined to get at least one page written before it was time to leave.

Boston, Ma.s.sachusetts June 8, 1915 June 8, 1915My dear Morgan,I have not had a letter from you in such a very long while, dearest brother, but I have been a poor correspondent myself, so I cannot scold you too harshly. I hope all is going well for you and that you are pleased with your building project. I know it will be an enormous success. It does seem that the McKinley men have superbly good business ac.u.men. Would that I had inherited some of the same traits, woman or no.You will not believe this, but I am planning to come for a visit. Our cousin Gertrude is needed to nurse her elderly mother who is in failing health. She has insisted that I find a more enjoyable endeavor with which to occupy my summer, and that is when I thought of you. I have never been west of the Mississippi, and it is high time that I do so. It will be a new and different experience - one I know I shall enjoy.If all goes according to plan, I should arrive in Bethlehem Springs before the end of June. I cannot tell you in this letter of my precise arrival date as I may wish to stop along the way to visit museums or other sights of interest.Have you had a telephone installed in your home as of yet? Now that the transcontinental telephone lines connect East to West, it would be ever so convenient if you would do so. Or is Bethlehem Springs too remote for modern conveniences to have reached it?Do not concern yourself with my travel plans as I will have a companion, the grandson of a friend of our father's. His name is Robert Dudley. I'm sure you remember Marcus Dudley, his grandfather. Robert has agreed to escort me safely to Bethlehem Springs before continuing on to California where he plans to become an actor in motion pictures. (Have you seen The Birth of a Nation?)If you have a moment, please write to Cousin Gertrude. I'm sure it would lift her spirits to hear from you. I won't tell you to write to me, you wretched correspondent, as I don't know where I shall be by the time you receive this letter. You shall simply have to talk to me in person when I arrive.

Your loving sister, Daphne Morgan placed Daphne's letter on the desk and leaned back in his leather chair. He was pleased that his sister was coming for a lengthy stay, and it was nice that it had been her own idea. This letter had been written about the same time he'd penned his to her. She might be reading his even now. He hoped she was as amused as he by their like thinking. And with their parents gone, it would be nice to be closer to his sister - both physically and emotionally.

He heard voices in the entry. That would be Gwen, right on time, as usual. Some women kept men waiting, but that wasn't true of Gwen Arlington. She was punctual - in addition to a host of other attributes he liked about her.

He rose from his desk chair and strode from his study in time to catch a glimpse of her as she and Inez Cheevers entered the front parlor.

"I'll tell Mr. McKinley you're here," he heard the housekeeper say.

Gwen answered, "Thank you."

When he'd caught his last glimpse of her on Sat.u.r.day night, she had still worn a bemused expression. How would she look now? What would she say to him?

"Ah, you're here, sir," Mrs. Cheevers said as she exited the parlor and saw him in the entry hall. "I was just now coming for you. Miss Arlington has arrived for your lesson."

"Thank you, Mrs. Cheevers."

In the front parlor, Gwen stood beside the piano, facing the doorway. The corners of her mouth curved upward a fraction when she saw him. Not enough to call it a smile, but enough to give him hope.

"Good afternoon, Miss Arlington."

"Mr. McKinley."

"It's dreary out, isn't it?" He tipped his head toward the windows.

"It always smells good after it rains."

He crossed the room to the piano.

"About Sat.u.r.day night," she said before he could sit down.

He stepped back from the bench, waiting for her to have her say.

"Why did you do it? Why did you say you planned to vote for me?"

"Because I will will vote for you. Because I believe you would be the better mayor between the two of us." vote for you. Because I believe you would be the better mayor between the two of us."

"Why, if our positions are so much alike?"

A silver-gray light from the windows outlined her head and shoulders and accented the narrow curve of her waist. Sometimes he forgot how pet.i.te she was.

"Mr. McKinley?"

He gave himself a mental shake and answered her question. "I would be a good mayor. I would serve honorably and do what I believed was best for the people of Bethlehem Springs. But, Miss Arlington, I came to this town to build a health spa. New Hope is where my greatest pa.s.sion lies. That's not true of you. You're pa.s.sionate about serving this town. That's obvious to everyone." He stepped around the bench, drawing closer to her.

She frowned at him. "Don't you believe G.o.d called you to run in this election?"

"Yes." He smiled gently. "But maybe He didn't call me to win."

He took another step closer. She didn't move away.

There was a tiny cowlick in the center of her bangs. He hadn't noticed it before. He was tempted to reach out and touch the stubborn strands of hair that refused to lie in the right direction. He was even more tempted to blurt out his feelings for her like some lovesick schoolboy. Fortunately, he was forestalled.

"Did you think I couldn't win without your endors.e.m.e.nt?" Gwen asked, her voice low, her stance rigid.

He swallowed a sigh and took a step back. "No, I never thought such a thing."

"I want to win on my own merits, Mr. McKinley."

"And so you shall."

Her gaze turned cloudy, like the darkening skies outside the parlor windows. "But how will I ever know if that's why? You have all but pulled out of the race."

He wished he could rea.s.sure her, but he had the feeling that whatever he said wouldn't be enough - or maybe it would be too much. Her doubts were greater than he'd suspected, and he didn't like that he was the cause of them. That hadn't been his intention. It seemed he was destined to make blunder after blunder when it came to Miss Arlington. Courtship should be easier than this, shouldn't it? He'd better become more adept at the art of wooing and winning this lady's heart. What he'd tried thus far didn't seem to be working.

Gwen cleared her throat, drawing his gaze again. "Perhaps we should get to your lesson, Mr. McKinley."

"Yes. Of course." With that, he slid onto the piano bench and placed his fingers on the keys.

Gwen found her composure again as she listened to Morgan run through his scales. She regretted that she had exposed her lack of confidence to him. He was, after all, still her opponent until the votes were cast. He had told those who came to the debate that if he were elected, he would serve with honor. It wasn't wise to lay bare her less than positive attributes. She wanted Morgan McKinley - and everyone else - to think of her as poised, calm, and self-a.s.sured.

And that was was what she showed him for the remainder of the lesson. She was the instructor. He was the pupil. A good pupil too. When he played the pieces she had a.s.signed to him the week before, she could only listen in wonder. His talent was obvious. what she showed him for the remainder of the lesson. She was the instructor. He was the pupil. A good pupil too. When he played the pieces she had a.s.signed to him the week before, she could only listen in wonder. His talent was obvious.

So carried away by the music was she that she didn't notice how dark the room had become. Not until light flashed across the well-polished wood of the grand piano's raised lid. An instant later, a loud crash of thunder shook the room. With a small squeal of surprise, she whirled toward the windows. Another jagged streak of lightning lit the sky and another peal of thunder followed. Then another and another.

Gwen's heart raced as she took a few steps toward the windows.

G.o.d, protect us from fire.

That was always her prayer when storms blew through the area. Mountain towns like Bethlehem Springs were especially vulnerable when it came to wildfires. One strategic strike of lightning, one strong gust of wind in the wrong direction, and every wooden building in this town could end up burned to the ground. Thankfully, the weather hadn't turned hot yet. The underbrush in the surrounding hills was still green, the ground moist. Forest fires were more likely to happen in July and August when everything had turned bone dry.

"Quite the show, isn't it?"

She looked to her right where Morgan now stood. "Yes."

He met her gaze. "Are you afraid of lightning storms?"

"Not afraid of the storms. Only of what could follow."

"Fire?"

She nodded, then turned toward the windows again. Light flashed against the panes, almost blinding her with its brightness. "Such a display of power."

" 'For the invisible things of him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even his eternal power and G.o.dhead.' "

Gwen felt the skin on her arms p.r.i.c.kle as Morgan quoted the familiar verse from Romans. It was the same one that often came to her mind when nature showed her how small she was and how big G.o.d was.

Rain began to spatter the windows. Big lazy drops at first, but not for long. The wind rose, driving the rain in sheets as it whistled down the gullies and ravines of the surrounding hills.

"Did you walk here?" he asked.

"Yes."