HEARTS WILL GO ON
Chapter Thirteen
To say that the papers were in a
frenzy over my engagement was an understatement of epic proportions. Everywhere
we went, we were swarmed with reporters, with people who were trying to figure
out what the mystery man I’d promised myself to was all about. Indeed, I found
myself more in doubt with each day. We barely talked anymore, and it broke my
heart. I spent most of my time with Christmas preparations and birthday
preparations for myself and Luke and with wedding preparations. It made me
sick. Ma noticed my unhappiness, too...but she never said anything. I suppose
she knew I needed to learn my own way. Still, we were quickly deemed Philadelphia’s
Young Darlings, along with a few other engaged pairs, including Mr. Hockley
and Miss Edwards, so it was inevitable that we would all see each other often.
Of course, we had a gala to
attend on Christmas Eve night at the Hamiltons’ mansion in Pittsburgh. I was
quickly tiring of all these society events and came to realize why my mother
had been so keen to let it all go. We continued to run into my grandmother and
her husband, though I could tell we would never be terribly close. She was not,
after all, the maternal type. She was, to her credit, always cordial and warm,
but she seemed the kind of person to fear love. Ma had opted not to attend this
event and had chosen to stay home with the boys. Reluctantly, I had left her
and we had driven with Aunt Olivia and Uncle Grant to Pittsburgh early in the
day.
The party itself was predictably
boring, with people milling about, sending their phony well wishes, hoping for
an invitation to our wedding, or more accurately, to any wedding, really. I
don’t know why, but I avoided Jonathan like the plague that night. Something
about him scared the wits out of me, so I clung to Dave’s hand like a wretched
child. As was inevitable, sooner or later, he excused himself to use the
bathroom, and I was left standing alone by the food table. I suddenly felt
stifled, trapped, so I fled to the cold, fresh air on the open balcony, which
was nearly deserted except for a couple so tightly wrapped around each other, I
didn’t know where one ended and the other began.
I lingered just in the doorway,
relishing the feeling of both warmth and cold at once, and looked up at the
sky, which was as clear as it had ever been that night. The brightest star
caught my eye, and I was dazzled by the simple beauty of it when someone spoke
beside me.
"You’re supposed to make a
wish." I looked to my side to see none other than Jonathan standing there,
leaning lazily on the other side of the French doorway.
"You don’t really believe
that works," I said sarcastically. He chuckled.
"My father used to say that
even the most successful man sometimes needed the simple pleasure of wishing on
a star." I felt instantly horrible.
"I’m sorry. I..." I
began, and he held up a hand to silence me, still smiling kindly.
"It’s not your apology to
make," he said quietly, and when I looked at him, something in his eyes
told me that he was harboring more than just grief. There was a pain so deep in
those gray orbs that it hurt my heart to look at him.
"So...you’re engaged?"
he asked, trying to sound casual. I nodded blankly, looking up at nothing in
particular.
"Yes...it’s only been a few
days...but we’ve decided to marry on the twenty-ninth of January," I said,
unsure of how to respond to his comment. He made some sound of acknowledgment.
"Ours is the
twentieth," he said, his voice dark.
Desperate to steer the
conversation to another topic, I said, "That’s a week after my
birthday." He didn’t react, and we both found ourselves looking out into
space. Finally, feeling him looking at me, I turned to go back inside.
"Well, I really should go back and find Dave..." I began, but he
moved quickly and caught my wrist gently.
"You can’t..." he said,
and I glared at him, horrified.
"Why not? He’s my
fiancé!" I retorted. Jonathan nodded upward, and I followed his eyes to
look at what could only be a sprig of mistletoe. "Oh," I said after a
moment. "Oh, dear."
"We’re supposed to
kiss."
"I’m well aware of how it
works, Mr. Hockley!" I shot back. "It’s just a stupid tradition and
one would think with both of us promised to other people, we would never even
consider..."
"It’s just a small
kiss...what’s the harm?" I sighed, looking at him holding my wrist.
"You’re not going to let me
go until I do...are you?"
"Damned straight," he
replied with a grin. I raised an eyebrow.
"If you don’t want to marry
her, then don’t," I said, pulling my arm away and crossing my arms, but
for some stupid reason I didn’t leave. Why didn’t I leave?
"I have to," he said
finally, and before I could respond, he’d crossed the small distance between us
and brushed the quickest, softest, lightest kiss across my lips before pulling
back. To others, it must have looked like a casual, friendly kiss, but to
me...it was the first time I had ever touched my lips to a man’s. It was
horrible and wonderful all at once. It must have been for him, too, because he
touched his own lips after pulling away, and said, "Sorry...I...I’m
sorry...I’ve got to go. Gloria...I...she...good-bye!" He disappeared into
the crowd, and I was left feeling like I really had no idea what I was doing or
what I wanted anymore.
Scanning the room for Dave, I
couldn’t see him anywhere and decided that it would be best if I found him so
we could leave as soon as possible. The only thing I wanted to do at that moment
was to crawl into Mom’s bed and cry. As I rushed toward the door out of the
ballroom, I heard a few murmurs.
"That Josephine Dawson is
the luckiest girl in the world...she fell right into her daddy’s money..."
"That shade of green is
quite lovely on her."
"They really are a handsome
couple..."
I escaped and stood outside the
door of the ballroom, breathing heavily. I closed my eyes for a moment to
collect my thoughts, but the muffled sound of voices startled me. I realized I
was very close to the coatroom. Faintly, I could hear the argument of a couple.
"You don’t understand. My
father--he...he’s not a kind man...I don’t have a choice," the girl was
saying.
"It’s a simple yes or
no..."
"It’s not that easy, Mr.
Stirling," she said. The man sighed.
"You know I’ve asked you to
called me Dave," he replied. I had to cover my mouth to hide my gasp. Miss
Edwards and Dave were in there! Doing God knows what! Not that I had any right
to say anything...I’d just kissed Jonathan Hockley...not in a particularly romantic
kind of way, but I couldn’t forget it. I fled that spot to the deserted parlor,
and moments later Olivia found me, followed by Uncle Grant and Dave. She
apparently wasn’t feeling well and was ready to return home, which was not a
problem for me. Dave and I did not speak the whole ride home, but I got the
distinct feeling he had been crying.
Mom was still up when I got
there, and I flung myself into her arms, causing her to drop the book she had
been reading in bed.
"Jo..." she said, her
voice filled with concern. "What is the matter?" I sobbed into her
shoulder.
"Oh, Mama...I’m so
confused..." I replied. I didn’t say anything else on the matter, and she
didn’t press me for details. She simply stroked my hair soothingly until I had
stopped crying and helped me into my nightgown, pulling the pins from my hair
and brushing it for me. I felt terribly juvenile, but it was nice to be coddled
for once.
"How was your day?" I
asked her as she brushed my hair on her bed. She smiled.
"Very good...I took the boys
into town to see Santa Claus at a local department store. The strangest thing
happened...I bumped into this man today and dropped my shopping bags. He helped
me pick them up, but I couldn’t get a good look at his face, and before I knew
it, he was gone. I had the strangest feeling we’d met before. Like déja vu or
something, you know?" She laughed. "It was probably my
imagination..." she said, pulling my hair back to braid it.
"What did he look
like?" I asked, yawning. She tilted her head, trying to remember.
"He was tall...a few inches
taller than me...he had actually quite long hair, compared to how men wear
their hair these days...it was dark gold...though I couldn’t really tell. It
could have been light brown..." She stopped. "No...definitely dark
blond. I couldn’t see his eyes, but he had a bit of stubble...not really a
beard, but not smooth...you know?"
"Did he say anything to
you?" I asked, not really interested in the man. I just liked hearing her
talk.
"Yes, actually. He said,
‘Sorry...let me get that for you...’ Then, he left."
I yawned again, falling back
against the pillow. She sighed, laying down as well.
"Ah…well...I would have
liked to have thanked him, though."
"Maybe he was your guardian
angel..." I joked, and she laughed.
"Maybe..." she agreed,
and we both fell asleep.
I woke to Jamie and Luke both
jumping on the bed. Ma had long since gotten up.
"Jo, wake up! It’s
Christmas!" Jamie cried.
"It’s Christmas!" Luke
agreed. I groaned, but realized they were not going to relent on this, so I got
up.
"Fine...have it your
way..." I said tiredly, pulling on my robe and slippers. I followed them
down into the main parlor, where Mom and Aunt Olivia were waiting. The boys
looked hopefully at Mom, and Aunt Olivia smiled at them. She and Grant had
never had children, and I could tell it was something she had always planned
on, but it was easy to see that she and Grant loved each other very well.
The frenzied opening of gifts
began after Dave joined us following a morning walk. I received a set of
earrings from Mom, a coat from Olivia and Grant, and from Dave, a slender gold
bracelet that he said was meant to symbolize our friendship. He made me promise
that our friendship would be the most important factor of all. It was the most
touching thing he had ever done for me. After presents had finished and we were
all enjoying a bit of breakfast, the doorbell rang. Five minutes later, the
butler entered the parlor with a bundle of mixed flowers.
"For Miss Dawson..." he
said, setting them down. I looked at Mom in confusion and went to the table.
"Who is it from?" she
asked. I shook my head.
"I don’t have a clue,"
I said, and Olivia sighed.
"Do you have a note?"
she asked, and I noticed the small slip of paper.
"I think..." I replied,
picking it up. It read:
Josephine,
I consider myself something of
a botanist...I do so hope you will enjoy these flowers from our greenhouse. I
must say, though, out of all of my favorite plants, my favorite would have to
be the mistletoe.
JH
"What does it say?" Mom
asked, and I crumpled it and shoved the paper into my pocket.
"Nothing...just the
address..." I said quickly. Olivia cleared her throat.
"Oh! Jo...this small package
arrived for you early this morning, but since Maggie was the only one awake,
she took it for you and fell asleep before she could tell anyone." She
handed me a small box with a bow on it and a little card attached.
"Well, aren’t we
popular?" Dave teased, and I shot him a look.
Jo,
Merry Christmas! Thought you
might be able to use this sometime...you know, when you’re not covered in
charcoal or oil pastel...and hang in there...things are going to work out for
you. You’ll see.
Tom
I opened the box and nearly
collapsed when I realized Tom had given me a gold necklace with my birthstone
on it.