He’d thought he was justified in making the choices he had. But maybe lying was never justified. Maybe he’d been wrong on both scores, especially in God’s eyes.
Whatever the case, he’d come too far with the deception to change courses now, hadn’t he?
He gave a curt nod toward the other horse. “Let’s go. I’ll ride with you most of the way and then you can walk the last block home by yourself.”
He nudged his horse several steps forward, waiting for her.
A moment later he could hear her climbing into the saddle.
For the duration of the ride, they avoided talking about themselves and instead spoke about Moya and Seamus and all the other children like them. They decided the best plan was to ask Riley if he had any ideas for how to do more to help the cholera orphans.
When they neared Third Street, Bellamy reined in. She dismounted, handed him the lead line for her horse, and gave him a nod before turning and walking away.
He watched her until she rounded the corner. Even then he nudged his horse forward and lingered at the end of her street. She paused at the edge of the Shanahan property, glanced back at him, and gave him a small wave. Then she disappeared into the brush.
As he made his way back to the pub, his thoughts kept circling back to the lying, and all the lying Oscar had done with Mam. There had always been so much deception between the two, especially Oscar pretending to care about Mam but never loving her enough to accept her for all her quirks and creativity and spontaneity.
How many times had Bellamy heard them arguing? And how many times had he heard Oscar come up with excusesabout how she was needed in the pub kitchen or dining room in order to keep her from painting?
Not that Mam hadn’t lied too. But most of her dishonesty had been in response to Oscar’s attempts to control her. She’d taken to sneaking around and leaving the house at odd hours. She’d started associating with questionable people because they understood and accepted her better. In those last years of her life, she’d begun drinking and had to lie about it to Oscar so he wouldn’t get angry with her.
Oh aye, Bellamy knew a lot about lying. It wasn’t a path he wanted to take with his life, but it seemed he’d headed that direction anyway with a woman who was quite proficient at it herself.
All the more reason to make sure to end things with Zaira just as soon as it was viable. She wasn’t the right woman for him, and he wasn’t the right man for her—not when any connection to him would only lead to unhappiness. He couldn’t do that to Zaira.
15
“An autumn wedding would be perfect.” Mam’s declaration to her friends nearby rose above the chatter of the circle of young ladies surrounding Zaira.
The forty or so guests mingled about Oakland’s sprawling yard where the tables and chairs were placed in the shade of the oak trees and covered in the finest linens, china dishes, and crystal goblets. Freshly picked bouquets of flowers in vases adorned each table.
Zaira tried to keep smiling and listening to the guests, but her heart was weighing more heavily with every passing moment of the supposed celebration: the eating of the gander, the meal to announce her match with Bellamy.
Across the yard, Bellamy stood with her brothers—Kiernan, Madigan, Quinlan, and Riley—along with neighbors who’d been invited to the party. Bellamy was more handsome than usual, which was a nearly impossible feat since he was always so striking. But something about his wearing a dark suit with a long tailcoat instead of his more casual day wear added to his appeal.
She, of course, was attired in one of her fanciest dresses, a blue floral silk with a lace bertha trimming the low neckline. Mam had wanted Zaira to have a new gown tailored for the occasion, and Zaira had hoped the dress fittings would allow her to make frequent trips into the city to the seamstress.
Over the past three days since she’d left St. Louis with Da and Kiernan and Alannah, Zaira had wanted to check on how Moya and Seamus were doing with the McKennas. However, since the men had given them only a few days to plan, there hadn’t been time for a new gown, and she hadn’t been able to concoct any other excuses to go to town.
She’d been relieved to learn from Bellamy when he’d first arrived with Oscar a short while ago that the children were still staying with them and seemed to be adjusting. Although she hadn’t talked with Bellamy for long, he’d informed her that both Seamus and Moya had taken baths and accepted the new clothing Jenny had purchased for them. They were also eating well, and Seamus had been helping in the kitchen with fetching water and other simple chores that kept him busy. Bellamy had continued to put out the word regarding the children’s father, but he hadn’t found any information on the man’s whereabouts.
Even with mostly good news regarding the children, Zaira was anxious to see them again. She needed to go into the city soon to turn in the next chapter of her story to the newspaper. She wasn’t sure what justification she’d find for escaping from Oakland, but she would figure out something. She always did.
“Maybe by autumn the cholera will be gone,” said one of Mam’s friends as she pumped her face with a fan, the lace and ruffles of her gown rustling in the breeze.
Another friend nodded, fanning her face too. “My husband said that the highest recorded daily deaths of one hundred twenty-four was on July 10, and that each day since has shown a marked decrease.”
“Thanks be.” Mam made the sign of the cross.
Thanks be,Zaira inwardly echoed. Even so, the slowing of the disease didn’t take care of the problem of homeless children like Seamus and Moya. How many more were wandering the streets, hungry and confused, wondering where their parents had gone?
“You’re so lucky, Zaira,” said Emilie Conway, grasping Zaira’s arm and pulling her back into the conversation with the young ladies, all of whom were also attired in their prettiest gowns. “You managed to win the handsomest man in all of St. Louis. How did you do it?”
Dottie Buckley made a swooning sound. “Remember last All Hallows’ Eve when Zaira peeled the whole apple skin without breaking it? When she threw it over her shoulder, it landed in the shape of aWforWilliam Bellamy McKenna.”
Zaira forced a smile. The old tradition of casting an unbroken apple peel over the shoulder was nothing more than a superstition. It couldn’t really predict a future spouse, and she and her friends had only done so to be silly.
“I’ve been sprinkling salt on the four corners of my bed every night.” Emilie dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “And I’ve been dreaming about a man with pale hair, wearing a gray suit.”
