Buried Desires
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The next day, Mary found herself at the bank in downtown Denver. She had taken a room in a boardinghouse near her employer’s home and spent most of that night preparing for this meeting with Mr. Stone. The dress was simple yet elegant.
It was sleeveless and had a scoop neckline. A pair of black gloves covered her hands while a matching scarf wrapped around her throat. Her hair fell to just above her shoulders and she wore it down instead of pulled back into a bun like she normally did when she worked as a teacher or a governess. She carried a small satchel over one shoulder containing her writing supplies.
Mr. Stone greeted her with a warm smile and escorted her through the office toward his private study. He offered her a seat across from him on the large, leather-upholstered chair behind his desk. “I’ve heard so much about you,” he said.
“You have?” Mary asked. “From whom?”
He smiled. “Your former employers.”
Mary nodded. That made sense. They would know how good an employee they’d lost. “Yes, I’m sure they do.”
After their brief exchange, he asked if there were any questions she might have for him regarding his family business. As he talked, she studied his face, looking for any signs of deceit. There was none. He seemed honest. Still, she wasn’t taking anything for granted. She needed to be cautious.
She hadn’t been hired by the Stone family because she knew everything about them or even wanted to work for such a well-known company. What she really hoped to find out was whether the rumors concerning the family’s involvement in smuggling were true.
Rumors had caused several members of her own family to become suspicious of the company, which led to some of those family members leaving to form another company. This new company was also involved in the whiskey trade but not in illegal activities.
Their liquor came from a distillery in Kansas City where the whiskey was produced legally under the supervision of the federal government.
If the Stone family was involved in smuggling, then the law could shut down their entire operation. If she could prove that they were guilty, her job would be done. Otherwise, she’d be forced to return to Chicago with no other choice than to leave town altogether. Either way, she couldn’t afford to fail.
Her mind raced as she tried to think of every question she could possibly ask. But as time passed, she realized that all she needed to know was who was responsible for making decisions within the company. Was it Mr. Stone himself? Or someone else? And why would anyone want to smuggle whiskey into Colorado anyway?
When he finally ended their conversation, Mary rose from the chair. “Thank you again for seeing me today, Mr. Stone. I’ll let you get back to your business.”
He stood and shook her hand before saying goodbye. “Don’t worry. We won’t keep you here long.”
As soon as he closed the door to his office, she turned to stare at it. So far, things weren’t going according to plan. Not only had she failed to learn enough information to satisfy her curiosity about the Stone family’s operations, but now she didn’t feel confident that she‘d be able to handle herself against three men.
One man alone would never pose much of a threat; three men together could mean trouble. She was no match for them physically.
Before she could dwell further on the matter, she took off for the front door and walked quickly away without turning to watch him walk toward the elevators. By the time she reached her hotel room, she was sweating and her heart beat wildly inside her chest.
After unlocking the door and entering, she dropped her bag onto the bed and leaned against the wall for support. All of her planning was for nothing. In fact, her entire trip was pointless. Nothing had gone right since the moment she left Chicago. Why should she expect any different here in Denver?
A knock sounded on the door.
“Come in,” she called out.
Mrs. Barlow entered carrying a tray. “There is tea and toast waiting for you, Miss Smith. Would you like some breakfast?”
Mary shook her head. “No thank you, Mrs. Barlow. I just need to rest my eyes for a few minutes.”
“Of course.” She set the tray aside. “Would you like me to send up your luggage later?”
Mary glanced around the room, noting that the room had changed since yesterday. The furniture appeared newer. Now that she thought about it, the carpet looked cleaner too. Someone must have come in after her last night and cleaned the place up.
It wouldn’t surprise her one bit if the woman had known about the meeting with Mr. Stone. How else could she have arranged for the room to be prepared in this manner unless she’d seen the note on the door?
Still, Mary had to wonder why the housekeeper would bother with her baggage. Her clothes would have already been packed in Chicago when she arrived there. And besides, what good would have clean clothing do her? Even though she hadn’t slept well the night before, she still felt tired. Too tired to move.
She rubbed her forehead. She hated being so useless. For a while, she’d convinced herself that she was capable of handling whatever happened during her visit to Denver. But now that she saw what the city had to offer, she understood that she’d been wrong.
The Stone family was powerful. They controlled most of the whiskey traffic coming through the area, including the railroads. And apparently, they ran a large part of the illegal whiskey trade. If she couldn’t stop them, then there was little chance of stopping their smuggling. That meant she’d have to go home empty-handed. Without a single clue as to who might be behind the smuggling operation.
***
Susan woke feeling groggy. She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. When she blinked, her vision cleared. At least she wasn’t lying in a strange bed anymore. With a sigh, she sat up. As promised, her luggage was neatly piled by the door. Apparently, someone had already unpacked everything.
At the same time, she noticed something new hanging on the wall next to her: a framed photograph of a handsome young man wearing a suit and tie. He smiled warmly into the camera and seemed happy. Susan recognized him instantly as the son of Mr. Stone.
Her hands shook slightly as she picked up the frame and studied the picture. His name was Andrew Stone and he was twenty-one years old. From the photo, he looked like he was very attractive and popular among the ladies. What surprised her the most was how familiar he seemed to look. Maybe it was because he resembled Mr. Stone. Or maybe it was simply because she knew his face so well.
After staring at the image for several moments, she placed the frame down and touched her fingers to her lips. It was an odd sensation. A feeling of déjà vu washed over her. This wasn’t the first time she’d met him. She remembered every detail of the day he died. Every painful minute.
It was June 23rd—a Sunday morning. She’d woken early and taken advantage of the sunshine streaming through her bedroom window. Pulling on her robe, she slipped outside and knelt beside the garden. There were flowers everywhere, blooming all season long. Some were small and delicate; others were big and bold. Yet each and every plant thrived under the care of a gardener named Rose.
When she finished tending to the plants, she went back inside and made a cup of coffee. Then she drank it slowly, savoring the flavor. Finally, she rose from the table and crossed to the dresser where she pulled out a book to read.
As always, she found reading helped calm her nerves. It also gave her time alone. Time away from her mother’s constant nagging about not marrying yet. About how hard it was for women to find husbands these days. About how she needed to give it more time.
Now, almost two decades later, her mother didn’t seem any wiser. In fact, it looked like the older she got the harder it was for her to see things clearly. Did she think she could change the past? Were there no lessons learned? Was she determined to repeat history?
With another sigh, Susan pushed the thoughts aside. No matter what she said or did, nothing would make her mother understand. Not even her father. After all, he was a minister. He should know better than anyone that life didn’t work that way.
In truth, she’d grown up believing that her parents cared deeply for her. But now, after seeing how they treated everyone else, especially her sister, she wondered whether that was true. Why else would they put such an emphasis on her marriage? Surely, they weren’t trying to force her to marry just because it would solve some sort of problem.
There was one person in particular who had never shown interest in her. And that was her younger brother. David. Now that she thought about it, she realized that her mother hadn’t mentioned his name since the funeral.
Probably because he wasn’t around much either. She supposed he spent most of his time with friends instead of family. The only times she ever heard from him was when she called him on the telephone.
Maybe she ought to write a letter. To tell him how much she missed him. How sorry she felt for leaving him without saying goodbye. She’d tried to call but he never answered. So she’d assumed he was too busy.
A knock sounded on the front door. “I’ll get it,” she told the housekeeper.
“No need.” A woman’s voice came from the other side of the door. “I’m here.”
Susan walked across the room and peered through the glass panes. Standing in the hallway was a pretty blonde. Her hair fell straight to her shoulders and she wore a pale blue cotton dress with matching shoes. Susan couldn’t help thinking how different their lives were.
The woman stepped closer to the door and opened it wider. “Mr. Stone?”
He nodded. “Come in.”
She entered the house and turned toward Susan. They exchanged greetings and then waited quietly until the housekeeper appeared from behind a doorway.
Mrs. Stone led her toward a sitting area near the kitchen. With a smile, she gestured for them to take seats while the maid set out tea and cakes on the dining room table.
Once everything was ready, Mrs. Stone poured both cups of tea. As soon as Susan sat down, the woman began talking.
“…the last time I saw you were at the funeral.” She paused and glanced at Susan before continuing. “You’re looking well.”
“Thank you. You too.”
Their conversation lasted nearly an hour. Most of it was about her brother. At first, she seemed curious about why he left home so suddenly. Then, once she discovered he hadn’t been in touch with anyone except his best friend, she became angry. Furious, actually. What kind of man leaves his wife and child without warning? Without telling her goodbye?
Still, Susan listened intently. Maybe she’d learn something new about David. Or maybe it wouldn’t be worth the effort. Either way, she decided to ask if she could meet with him sometime. When she raised the subject, however, her mother quickly changed the topic.
They talked about other people they knew and Susan found herself nodding along. All the while, she kept glancing at the clock above the mantel. Waiting for lunchtime. For the day to end. Until finally, the housekeeper took away the tray and the teapot.
“It was nice meeting you,” Mrs. Stone said as she stood. “I hope we can visit again someday.”
“Of course.” Susan followed the woman out the door and watched her walk off into the distance. Once she disappeared around the corner, she hurried back inside. Unloaded the tray. Picked up the teacups and placed them back where they belonged. Then returned to her bedroom and closed the door behind her.
After taking a deep breath, she pulled open the drawer containing her wedding gown. There was still plenty of time before dinner. Plenty of time to decide what to do. If anything.
***
At dinner, Susan stared at her plate. Every bite of food tasted bitter. Bitter because she wished she’d eaten less or skipped this meal altogether. That way, she might have enough strength to face the next few days. It was almost as if she were watching someone else eat. Someone not very hungry. Someone who hated every morsel of food.
When the meal ended, she went upstairs and climbed into bed. The covers smelled like flowers and lavender soap. A faint scent that reminded her of the farmhouse. Of home.
But it wasn’t home anymore. Not unless she wanted to spend the rest of her life being miserable. No, she needed to leave. Right now. Before things got any worse.
And she did feel awful. Horribly guilty over all of this. But she had no choice. She would go alone—if she could. Somehow, she must find a way.
That night, she didn’t sleep a wink. Instead, she lay awake in the dark. Listening to the sounds outside. Hearing nothing but the wind whistling through the windows. Thinking about what to do. Where to start. And wondering if she should even try. After all, she hadn’t been able to reach David by phone. He probably didn’t want to talk to her. Wouldn’t listen anyway.
So she shouldn’t expect much more. Which meant there was little chance of reaching her mother either. Susan knew better than to think otherwise. She couldn’t blame her father for wanting to protect his family. For wanting to keep them safe.
But she also knew he loved his wife. Loved his children. She’d seen it when he kissed each one of them goodnight. Seen it when he hugged them. Hugged her mother. Kissed her mother’s cheek.
Susan remembered the sound of his laughter and the warmth of his hands holding hers. She’d miss those things most of all.
Early Saturday morning, Susan rose from the bed and dressed in her favorite pink dress. By mid-morning, she was waiting for the carriage to arrive.
In the meantime, she readied the suitcase under the bed. Washed clothes. Folded the ones already packed. Filled the pockets with money. Took out her jewelry box and put on her wedding ring. Next, she picked up the note and looked at it one more time.
Dear Mom,
There are two ways this could play out. One, I’m sorry. Two, I’ve come to stay awhile.
Please don’t worry. We’ll be fine.
Love always,
Sue
The note fell from her fingers. She reached down and scooped it back up. Held it close to her heart. Closed her eyes and tried to imagine how her parents would react to such news. To know their only daughter was coming home after so many years. How long had it been since they last saw her? Five years? Ten?
She thought of the letter she’d sent her mother just weeks ago. The one asking if she could meet with David. If she could help him find work in Chicago. In return, she offered to pay her brother to drive her across the country. Or maybe she could hire a car and make the trip alone.
But then she thought of the farmhouse. Wondered if her father would allow her to live there. To share it with her siblings.
Maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe she should wait until the divorce became final. Until she learned if her marriage was really over. Only then would she know whether or not she could ever see her mother again.
Her mind drifted back to her mother. Her beautiful blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair. All the wonderful times they’d shared together. The way her mother laughed when Susan told jokes. When she made funny faces. As well as the time they spent baking cookies. Watching TV together. Playing board games. Eating popcorn and drinking tea while sharing stories of the day.
All these thoughts ran through her head as the carriage rolled up the driveway. A man in black trousers, a white shirt, and suspenders stepped out and handed her inside. “Where to?”
“To my brother’s house,” she replied.
He nodded and started the horse off. “How long will you need to stay?”
“A week.”
They rode past rows of trees and tall grasses. Past fields of wildflowers. Then, they passed a small town. The buildings grew larger as they traveled west. The landscape changed from flat plains to rolling hills. Trees filled the valleys. Some of the farms were abandoned. Others seemed prosperous.
By late afternoon, they arrived at an old Victorian-style mansion. Its red brick walls glistened in the setting sun. The roof shined like silver. On top of that, the large porch wrapped around the entire front side of the building. It reminded her of some of the homes she’d visited in San Francisco.
As the driver stopped the carriage, she glanced up at the high peaked roof. At the columns flanking the entranceway. With a sigh, she climbed down. The driver helped her step into the dirt parking lot. He walked away without saying goodbye.
She watched him ride away before turning to the steps leading to the main door. Walking up to them, she took another breath. Then opened the heavy oak doors. Inside, the foyer smelled of fresh paint and polish. Soft music played from somewhere upstairs.
She turned left and entered a spacious living room. Walls hung with paintings. Furniture covered with white linen cloths. The air was cool but inviting.
A woman appeared behind a long mahogany desk. Long gray hair tied neatly in a bun. Gray eyes peering over thin-rimmed glasses.
Susan smiled. “Good afternoon.”
Mrs. Jameson stood up and came around the desk. “Hello, dear. Welcome to our home.”
“Thank you. Thank you for allowing me to stay here.”
“It is no problem. My husband and I have known your family for years.” Mrs. Jameson motioned toward a hallway. “I’m sure you remember our youngest daughter, Laura.”
Susan did indeed recall meeting her once or twice. But didn’t think much about it. Not realizing the older sister was now married with children of her own.
Mrs. Jameson led her to the other side of the hall. Stopped at the first door. Pulled open the brass knob. And held it for her. “Come in. Come in.”
Inside, Susan found herself staring at a handsome young man who rose to greet her. His brown eyes sparkled as he smiled. “Welcome, ma’am. Glad to finally meet you.”
The End