She turned to him in surprise. No one ever spoke about Aunt Stella, and she was surprised he even knew of her existence.
“How did you hear about Aunt Stella?”
“I’ve been reading whatever I can find about your family,” he said. “Your grandfather is a fascinating man and widely lauded in the press. I saw mention of a daughter long ago, but then nothing. Did she pass away?”
Marianne thought carefully before answering, for this wasn’t the time or place to air old family scandals. “Aunt Stella left home after she got married.”
After she was banished from the family. The man Stella loved was a member of the Lenape Indian tribe. He had worked as a builder in downtown Baltimore, and Jedidiah said he would disinherit Stella if she continued to carry on with an Indian.
“Where did she go after getting married?” Colonel Phelps asked.
She pretended great concentration as she fastened the camera to the tripod, all the while trying to figure out how to tactfully answer the question.
“I’m afraid I don’t know,” she finally said. After Stella left Baltimore with her husband, it was as if they vanished from the face of the earth. To Marianne’s shame, she didn’t even know the husband’s name. He’d always been called merely “the Indian that Stella married.”
An awkward silence stretched as Marianne began taking pictures. After it became clear she intended to add nothing more about her mysteriously missing aunt, Colonel Phelps picked up the conversation.
“Family is very important,” he said. “In a way, you and I have much in common. Your grandfather came from humble roots but made something of himself, and now his progeny have all benefitted from that. I feel a similar obligation.”
“My goodness, such a long-term thinker,” she teased.
“It’s no laughing matter,” he said. “Hard work, accomplishment, reputation . . . all of these things are vital if a man is to claw his way out of poverty.”
“You’re right, of course.” She kept her tone light, but why did he have to be so serious? She had always worked hard and protected her reputation, but she still found time for fun and laughter along the way.
“Your father invited me to dinner on Sunday evening.”
“He did?”
Colonel Phelps nodded. “He said that your brother and his family would be in town, and I asked for the chance to meet them.”
It seemed like Clyde wasn’t the only one keen to see an alliance between herself and Colonel Phelps. This morning almost felt as though she was being interviewed for a position as a prospective general’s wife. A position she didn’t want, but how was she to slow this momentum?
“Andrew and his family are coming to hear a speech my father is giving on Monday,” she said. “We are all very proud.”
“As you should be. There’s nothing more important on this earth than family.”
On that she was in complete agreement with Colonel Phelps. Too bad the rest of her family never felt that way about Aunt Stella.
Luke wasn’t going to allow the darkroom to defeat him. His stint in a Cuban jail had already cost him fifteen months of freedom; he wasn’t going to let it rob him of a normal life now that he was out. That meant he had to be able to walk into an enclosed space without a crippling attack of panic. These spells needed to be conquered, because they were getting worse.
Marianne was already setting out the trays of solution when he joined her in the darkroom.
“You don’t have to be here,” she said. “I shouldn’t have pressured you the other day. Six rolls of film aren’t too much for me to handle.”
“I need to be here.” He took down jugs of chemicals from the shelf and set each beside the correct tray. Having something to concentrate on would help divert his mind from the crawling sensation skittering across his muscles that urged him to escape and run.
Besides, he wanted to see how his photographs of Marianne in the tree house came out. She’d been so beautiful, with dappled sunlight in the background and the woodsy scene carrying a timeless aura.
When it came time to darken the room, Marianne clicked on the tungsten lamp before crossing to the windows. Knowing she was about to draw the window shade made his restless need to climb the walls even worse. Maybe standing by the door would bring relief. Marianne might not even notice this humiliating weakness starting to strangle him once again.
She placed a hand on the heavy drape. “Ready?” she asked. Her face was full of compassion. She knew exactly what he was feeling.
“Ready.”
She lowered one drape, then the other. He forced his lungs to pull in a breath of air.
“Are you all right?” she asked. There was just enough amber light to see the pity on her face.
He could lie and say everything was fine, but his heart was beating so fast he was becoming dizzy. This wasn’t imaginary discomfort, it was real. His skin prickled, his vision blurred. He couldn’t get ill. Tomorrow was Caroline’s wedding. There would be time to deal with this humiliating weakness another day.
“I’m sorry, Marianne, but I’ve got to get out of here,” he said. With the last of his dignity, he summoned a smile. “I want a copy of the picture I took of you in the trees. I’ll wait for you outside.”
Relief hit within seconds of escaping the darkroom. His lungs filled naturally. The crawling sensations eased. His body felt better, but his humiliation was complete. No man wanted the woman he loved to see him like that.
He paced the sidewalk outside while pondering how to put a good face on this for Marianne. This stretch of sidewalk was in a rough part of the city, but he could breathe out here and savor the sunlight on his face.
After an hour, Marianne emerged, weighed down with a satchel slung over her shoulder and a crate in her arms. He rushed forward to help with the crate.
“Sorry about that in there,” he said. The excuses he’d toyed with to explain his behavior all seemed foolish now, so he simply told the truth. “Enclosed spaces are still tough for me.”
She headed toward a bench farther down the sidewalk. “That’s okay.”
He joined her on the bench, setting her crate of supplies on the walkway. A peek inside showed several rolls of undeveloped film and boxes of celluloid paper.
“It looks like you didn’t get your work finished,” he said.
“Only about halfway. Six rolls of film were too ambitious to tackle in an hour.”
And she’d been counting on his help to get it done. If he hadn’t bolted out of there like a weakling, they could have finished the job. “I’m sorry for letting you down,” he said. “As mortifying as this is, I’m glad I don’t have to pretend with you.”
She squeezed his hand. “It’s no bother, Luke. I know today didn’t go so well, but I need to get the rest of the film developed. I’ve reserved some time tomorrow morning, if you’d like to try again.”
He shook his head. “Tomorrow is Caroline’s wedding. She will hang, draw, and quarter me if I’m late.”
“How silly of me!” Marianne said. “I knew it was coming, but I’d forgotten it was tomorrow. Tell me about it.” She looked properly enthused. There must be something about weddings that spoke to the female soul.