“Thanks, Mole,” she whispered as if he’d left the light there for her.
Barrels of beer lined one side, whiskey the other. She sat the lantern on the third step and went to work.
With the sharp point of her knife, she chipped a hole in the back of each barrel. Guessing no one would be in the saloon before noon, most of the barrels would be empty before anyone checked and the basement floor would be a foot deep in whiskey-smelling mud.
Her act wouldn’t pay Mole back for the life he’d tossed away, but it was a start. Maybe without any liquor, he’d have to close and let the girls go somewhere else.
Something stirred near the steps, and Nick turned to stone. What if someone had followed her? What if someone had been sleeping beneath the steps? No, she told herself. The door had been locked. Mole would never imprison anyone inside his supply of liquor.
She moved slightly and saw a rat dart between two steps. “Rats,” she whispered. “I hate rats.”
Turning out the lamp, she retraced her steps, stopping to relock the door. When she made it back outside, the first touch of dawn brushed the sky. She hurried down the alley to where Mole slept and slipped the key back into his pocket, without even glancing at him snoring on the bed. She’d done what she came to do. If he caught her now, she’d simply fight her way out.
A woman on the first floor rose a few inches as Nichole passed, but a man leaving the house at dawn was not an unusual enough sight to fully awaken her. She rolled over and let Nichole pass without saying a word.
No one confronted her as she crossed between the houses and slipped back into the open window. Rose still slept in the chair, and Nick heard Adam and the undertaker working in the examining room. The smell of coffee came from the kitchen.
She climbed the stairs and entered the storage room, taking her first deep breath. But as she pulled herself into the attic entrance, she had the feeling that someone was watching her. Someone who wouldn’t be there if she looked back.
FIFTEEN
NICHOLE SLEPT THROUGH Dancing’s funeral. Only Adam, Rose, and Sister Cel attended. Bergette refused to even discuss the possibility of going, and Mrs. Jamison wouldn’t let Nance out of the house. Nichole knew she couldn’t attend, so after they left, she curled into the little bed in Adam’s old study and fell into a deep sleep. The night’s adventure had eased her sorrow and made her feel alive again.
When the sun was high, she came awake with a jerk at the sound of Bergette’s voice close by, too close.
“What do you mean I shouldn’t be in here?” Bergette shouted loud enough for the entire house to hear.
Adam’s low voice reached Nichole as she slipped from the covers and moved behind the open door. Through the crack, she could see Bergette standing over Adam who lay atop his covers fully dressed.
“I’m trying to take a nap, Bergette,” he said in a voice that left considerable doubt that he’d been asleep when she barged into his room. “I didn’t go to bed last night and I’d like to sleep an hour before I start seeing patients.”
“Oh, forgive me.” She pouted. “I forgot you were up all hours, first with the whores and then the undertaker. It seems you have time to talk to everyone in this town but your fiancée. Well, I’ve had enough. I don’t care how tired you are, it’s time we had a few words.”
“You talk,” he mumbled. “You seem a lot better at talking than listening. But can’t we move somewhere else besides my bedroom? Bergette, it isn’t proper.”
She laughed. “Are you suggesting that I wouldn’t be safe in here alone with you? What a joke. You haven’t made any effort to so much as touch my hand since I’ve been here. I find it very unlikely you’d attack me in passion’s fever now.”
“I played that game when I returned from the war. Remember, you pushed me away.” He leaned on one elbow and resigned himself to having to talk to her. “I’d wasted years thinking of coming home to you and all you thought about was that my clothes were dusty.”
“Well, a girl should never make it easy. I’m not some old maid who would jump in your arms despite what people would say. That doesn’t mean I planned for you to stop trying.”
“What people? We were alone in your house when you ran down the stairs and stopped just short of my arms.”
“There were the servants,” Bergette defended. “I hoped you’d try again when we were alone and in more proper surroundings.”
“Did you?” he asked. “Do you want me to keep trying, now? A bedroom seems the right surroundings.” He made no move toward her. “Or do you simply enjoy the control as you enjoy controlling everything around you? The day I came home it seemed we were never alone, nor did you make any plans to be. Tell me, Bergette, what is it you wish me to do? Crawl at your feet and beg for a touch, a kiss, any scrap of feeling you have inside?”
“Nothing. I want nothing from you if I have to tell you what to do.” She paced beside his bed, her silk skirts making a swishing sound as they brushed his quilt. “I’ve come to a conclusion about you, dear Adam. I understand that there are some men who are not turned toward wanting women. They might not even know it themselves until they’re in the army, or something.”
Adam laughed. “You think I’m a man who doesn’t like women?”
“It wouldn’t matter to me if you were,” she answered quickly. “We could still be married. You could live your life, and I could live mine. I understand many of the royalty in Europe live apart and are happily married. When my father dies, I’d see that you have a fair allowance. You can go about healing all kinds of trash, and I can go about my pleasures.”
“You’re not saying you want a marriage in name only?” Adam looked as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He’d always thought her cold, but not that cold. “Surely there are hundreds of men standing in line to love and marry you, Bergette?”
“I’ve looked!” she snapped before she realized what she said. Then her pride wouldn’t allow her to back down. “Do you honestly think I would have waited for you if there had been a man worth having? I don’t want to be passed from my father to a husband to be regarded as only something pretty to decorate a house. If we married with an understanding, I could be respectable and still travel and shop and go to parties with an escort.” She smiled and lowered her voice. “You’re a doctor. You could make sure there were no children born.”
Adam couldn’t hide his laughter. “But you see, dear Bergette, I want a wife in my bedroom as well as in my life, and I want children, dozens of them.”
She stopped and stared at him a moment. “I would agree to share your bed occasionally, and we could talk about children later, after we’ve been married a while.”
“But I wouldn’t share a bed with you.” He crossed his arms and leaned back on the pillows.
“Now, are you saying you wouldn’t sleep with me?” Her eyes opened in shock.
“That is exactly what I’m saying. Not even at gunpoint. Not even if it were my last night on earth.”
Bergette stomped her foot. “Then something is wrong with you. You’re not a man. Something is missing inside you, Adam McLain. All you think of is your work and your studies. That isn’t normal.”
Adam looked at her with anger in his eyes for the first time. “Nothing’s missing in me just because I think I can live without you in my life.” There was something missing, he thought, only Bergette couldn’t fill the void.