“And be a martyr for the rest of your life? You hate my place in the Five Points and always complained about the noise. The lousy plumbing.”
“I could have the plumbing fixed. It’s a health hazard.”
“You see? You haven’t even moved in and you want to rip out the plumbing and begin anew. The plumbing in my building is good enough. It’s what I can afford. I don’t want to wake up some morning years from now and find out I’ve turned into your uncle Milton, who has shrunken into a shell of the man he should have been. Did you know he pretends to go fishing so he can hide from your family?”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“It’s true. If your family was embarrassed by Milton’s shoelaces or underwear, how will they feel about my job defending people for drunkenness or bounced checks or dallying with prostitutes? That’s what I do, Gwen. I am called to help downtrodden people who have fallen off the path and need a hand back up in the world.”
Worry replaced her anger as she held up both palms in appeal. “Slow down. We always knew we would encounter bumpy times, but you can’t just walk away. I can change. I can move to the Five Points.”
She had tried to change for her first husband, and it had been a disaster. His anger drained away, replaced by aching poignancy.
“I don’t want you to change,” he said. “You’re perfect just as you are. I may not think much of your family, but as I watched you on the beach, playing with the children and spreading optimism and beauty wherever you went . . . it would be a crime to change that.”
“I can be that way in the Five Points.”
He shook his head. “Your house has a two-acre garden where you hold soirees and grow healing herbs and heirloom roses. In the Five Points, the best I could offer you is a windowsill.”
Tears pooled in her eyes, and her voice was so soft he could barely hear it. “I would make it a beautiful windowsill.”
He touched the side of her face. “I have no doubt of that, but we should cut our losses now and go our separate ways.”
Gwen rallied, a spark of energy straightening her spine and strengthening her voice. “You’re letting pride stand in the way of what we could have. Since we met, I have felt more alive, more driven, and more excited to face each day. Don’t throw away what we could be together.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “A thousand times, I’m sorry. It was my fault for leading you to believe that I could fit into this world. I’m sorry that I can’t. And I think we need to end things before I hurt you even more.”
She winced but didn’t look away. “Jasper hurt me. He let me down, but I didn’t curl up into a ball and stop living. Not then, and not now. I want to build a life with you. What if we try and the worst happens? If it all collapses, I will be hurt and wounded like never before . . . but guess what? I’ll survive. I did before, and I can do it again. Patrick! If we join forces, we can strengthen and nurture each other and do something great with our lives. Save a college? Cure a disease? Rescue people on the verge of eviction and give them hope for another day? I don’t know what the future holds for us, but I don’t want to lose the chance to find out because you’re afraid of Poppy Blackstone’s sharp tongue.”
He bristled. “I’m not afraid of anything.”
“Prove it,” she said. She glanced toward the water, where the tender was returning. Her look was pointed, challenging him to get on board and sail back to New York with her.
He couldn’t. It would only prolong the inevitable.
“It’s not going to work,” he said as gently as he could.
Her look of disappointment was hard to bear, but there was no bitterness in her voice, just a hint of resignation. “Sometimes the greatest strength a man can have is not letting his pride stand in the way of moving in the right direction.”
The barb landed exactly where she intended, but he didn’t flinch. The boat arrived, and he stood motionless as she boarded without looking at him again. He watched Gwen sail away, taking a piece of his heart with her.
37
Gwen returned to her house on its quiet, shady street bordering campus a little battered and a lot sadder than when she left, but she would survive. Her life went back to normal as she worked in her garden, hosted the Friday evening soirees, and gave the good news to President Matthews about the restored funding for the college.
As the days went by, her thoughts constantly strayed to Patrick. He would fit in perfectly at Blackstone College. She could get him a job as an attorney for the college, except he wouldn’t take it. His pride wouldn’t let him accept help from her, and maybe that was for the best.
Did he think about her? Did he hurt even a little over what they had lost?
One thing she didn’t need to wonder about was what Liam was doing, for her brother kept her informed through daily messages about his progress consulting with labor union leaders and learning the finer points of the steel industry. Patrick was by his side the entire time, and soon they would approach Uncle Oscar with their plan to put Liam on the board of directors for the new company in exchange for Liam’s promise to deliver union support for the merger.
As promised, Gwen had hired an attorney to transfer half of what she inherited from her father into Liam’s name. It didn’t take long. Within two weeks, the necessary accounts had been set up and funded. Liam’s world would never be the same, but Gwen’s life continued as it always had. She was proud of Liam but didn’t participate in his journey. Her life would always be here at the college.
As June turned into July, her days were spent preparing for fall classes and managing the greenhouse. This morning she was showing Mimi how to propagate goldenseal. Behind her thick glasses, Mimi had rich brown eyes the same shade as Jasper’s, and she watched the process in fascination. They were at the worktable out in the garden, with the roots of the goldenseal plant laid out before them.
“These are the rhizomes,” Gwen said, pointing out the little nodes. “These are what we will use to propagate new growth. I think we can get four or five new plants from this one.”
Mimi carefully followed Gwen’s instructions by clipping a notch beside each node. The girl had to lock her braces to stand long enough to get the job done, but she never once complained.
Spending time with Mimi was a balm on Gwen’s wounded soul. Frankly, a broken heart was nothing compared to the lifetime of challenges Mimi had before her.
“What kind of medicine can you make from this plant?” the girl asked.
“Goldenseal roots can be brewed into a nice tea for digestive disorders.”
Mimi nodded. “I’ve always wanted to make a nice tea for digestive disorders,” she said with utmost seriousness, and Gwen hid her smile. Mimi was such a bright little girl and might someday become a scientist herself. Maybe even a doctor. If Mimi wanted to attend Blackstone College, Gwen would move heaven and earth to be sure it happened regardless of her physical challenges.
Her musings were interrupted by the clang of the telephone. Gwen dried her hands on a rag and hurried inside, suspecting what the call might be.
She was right. It was Liam with news.
“Uncle Oscar has taken the bait,” Liam said, his voice tense with excitement. “Patrick and I are going to his place tomorrow to let him know that the labor unions are supporting my lead. I can’t stop the deal, but I can make things tough in the press unless Oscar agrees to put me on the board of U.S. Steel.”