Memories of Gold Read online

  She wondered if his pure male physique was the only reason for the fire in her veins, but her instincts told her there was more to it than that. She had met similar men, even gone upstairs with several of them, but she had never felt this way towards any other she had seen.

  His countenance was what truly caused her heart to twist inside her. His strong jaw gave him an air of indomitable willpower, as if he could stand up to anything and anyone. His eyes, however, still glittered and danced with laughter, just like they had when they were young … or maybe they only looked like that when they were gazing at her.

  She turned away, looking at the cave mouth and concentrating on her old memories. “I feel as though these caves are different, somehow, than they had been when I was a child.”

  She could feel Jimmy’s gaze land on her, but chose to continue looking straight ahead. There was no doubt in her mind that her feelings had gone too far, and she needed to rein them in before they took over. She could not ruin this happy spark inside her that had been dormant for so long.

  He responded with reminiscences from childhood, their many adventures and imaginings here. After a few minutes, his voice trailed off and he smiled at her. “I am glad things haven’t changed too much, Maria. You are a beautiful lady now, but you are still just as interesting as you were when we lived in the camps. It’s nice that those days are not gone forever.”

  She flushed, and he felt his temperature rise at the sight. Sincere compliments were perhaps not the best way to avoid uncomfortable physical reactions. He changed to humorous recollections instead. “I bet you’re just as headstrong now as you used to be, too. Remember when you decided to run around the entire camp because you were bored, and halfway through forgot what you were doing because you found a mud pit and decided to play in it with a stray pup? My ma was so upset when you came in an hour after dark covered in mud. It was so amusing to watch you, in dirt from head to toe, try to explain why you were hours late.”

  Mary laughed at the memory. “She just kept staring at me. I’m glad my father was sober enough to tell her to leave me alone and sent me back to our tent with a little supper, or I don’t know what she might have done. Your mother never hit me, but I think she got pretty close that night. I must admit, though, in some ways it was nice having somebody worry that much for me. How is she?”

  Jimmy’s smile shifted, and she immediately regretted asking. “She died a few years back. Fire.”

  Maria nodded sadly, the news tearing at her heart. Fires at the mining camps could move quickly and killed many. It was a terrible circumstance of life in the camps. She wondered if that was the reason Jimmy was so intent on his career. Was he afraid to ever find himself trapped in those camps again? She knew how that felt.

  His voice broke into her thoughts. He asked, in a tone that suggested he might already guess the answer, “What about your father? Is he still…”

  “He died a little over a year ago. He got drunk and there was a fight—“

  She paused. She should tell him everything, explain about her sister and her responsibilities after his death, about the work she tried after her pa died and how she needed enough money for Emma’s care, and finally about her decision to go to the saloon for employment once she realized it was her only real option. She knew that this was as good a time as any to talk.

  Jimmy was watching her as she sat there silent for several moments, debating with herself, wanting to tell him, yet desperate to avoid the moment when he would judge her. Jimmy shifted slightly on the rock and put his arms around her in a comforting embrace.

  All thoughts of telling him evaporated as he enfolded her; she always had to be so strong for everyone else and for herself, but in his arms, she felt like she could be weak and shed her burdens for a short time. She leaned into him and nestled her head against his collarbone. All the difficulties from the previous year, everything she had fought through, broke over her like a wave.

  For the first time since her father died, leaving her with all the responsibilities, she let herself be weak. She cried into Jimmy’s shoulder, and he held her close while the storm overtook her.

  Jimmy didn’t know exactly why Maria was crying—he couldn’t imagine that it was for her father; she had never been very close to him, even as a little girl—but his heart hurt for her and he wanted to make it better, whatever it was.

  After just a few minutes, her tears subsided, but she continued to press her face against him, and he kept his arms wrapped tightly around her. He wanted to ask her to talk to him, he wanted to be helpful, but he knew that this was not the time. He sat and held her, and the small portion of his mind that wasn’t overwhelmed with concern for her was focused on the proximity of her body, the feel of her curves on his arms, and how perfectly she fit against him.

  He shouldn’t have noticed her body when she was so vulnerable, let alone creating scintillating images of it in his head. He tried to push those thoughts aside, but it proved impossible.

  He brushed his lips against her forehead, needing to kiss her and compromising with something that could appear brotherly if she chose. The impulses behind it were far from brotherly, however, and he had a notion it was possible she felt the same. There was a hitch in her breathing the moment his lips touched her skin.

  The contact made his fingers tingle with need, but he managed to curb the craving that washed over him. She had stopped crying, so he carefully extricated himself and created distance between them, or at least what could be considered distance on the small rock. Although it was difficult, he was able to keep control.

  Mary brushed the tears out of her eyes and laughed at the light feeling coursing through her. Those few moments of tears soothed away so much of the pain from the previous year, and his arms around her made her both content and tingle with sensation. The swirl of emotions was too much, and it burst out of her in a gale of mirth.

  When he hugged her, she had wanted to press closer and feel his lips on hers, but she knew that she had to keep her distance for the moment, keep things appropriate until everything was sorted out, whatever that meant. So instead of falling back into his arms, of surrounding herself with his body, his warm comforting smell, she leaned away and held herself together. Barely.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, “I must be quite tired. I am better now, though.”

  Jimmy looked at her, and she wondered if he would question her explanation, but he only gazed for a few moments, then nodded.

  She turned the conversation to light topics and they continued to discuss the past and their current lives. Mary avoided any topic that might introduce the subject of her profession in any way. She had no desire to lie to him, but she was not ready to tell the truth, either. Not yet. He was too important to her, and how would he react? No, she couldn’t do that.

  She told him about her reading lessons, and he eagerly discussed a few of the books he had also read. Apparently he had been able to get some schooling at one of the camps his family stayed at, and had taken to reading as well. They discussed Jane Eyre, and how difficult life had been for the undeserving Jane. The spark in his eyes as he listened to her, as if everything she said was important, spread warmth through her stomach.

  When she told him that she was learning French, he grinned at her in amazement. “That’s astonishing, Maria! Say something to me in French!”

  Without thinking, she said, “Je t’aime.” I love you. She couldn’t help herself. She never believed one could find love in an instant, but here it was.

  Then again, it was more than that, she knew. It was love created and held hidden away for years. He had been the missing part of her life, and now that he was back, he made her feel complete. Her heart yearned for him, her body wanted him, and she knew that curling up with his arms around her would be more than she could ever hope for without him.

  “That is beautiful. What does it mean?”

  She was suddenly awkward. She had not planned to say that, and was not prepared to face the repe
rcussions if he felt differently. And how could he? They had only reunited a short time ago, after so many years. She decided on a safe response that wasn’t a lie, though she hoped he would take it as the translation. “I am happy you’re here.”

  He smiled at her, content. “Well, je t’aime.”

  Even though she knew he misunderstood the meaning of the phrase, it still gave her a thrill to hear him repeat it. She looked out over the landscape, soaking in the beauty and wonder of the day. She felt truly alive for the first time in a very long while.

  Chapter 5

  It was afternoon when they left their spot and wandered back to town. Jimmy was sure Maria was exhausted, and had offered to leave earlier, but she insisted on staying. She dismissed his concern with a simple explanation: “It is too beautiful a day and too wonderful a companion to miss for something as trivial as sleep.”

  Although she blushed a moment afterward and changed the topic, seemingly embarrassed by her sentiment, the words nestled into his heart.

  As the town grew and they neared its edge, he found himself evaluating his reaction to Maria. He was surprised at the strength of his feelings for her. He had never been with a girl and felt so right, so whole. Then again, he knew it should not have astonished him at all. After all, this wasn’t some girl. It was Maria.

  She had always held a place in his heart, even over the long years apart, and now that he’d found her again, the space for her had grown and taken control, and he was happy. If only he could be sure she felt the same without risking their friendship to discover it.

  Jimmy let the idea drift to the back of his mind. It was something to think on later, not now. Now, as they walked into Shasta and were about to separate yet again, even if only for a short while, was the time to absorb as much as he could about her. The way her hair fell over her shoulder, the tan of her skin against the yellow dress, her hand in his, the lilt of her voice. Each item was stored away as its own special memory, something to hold on to and keep safe.

  When they arrived at the boarding house, they both became awkward. He wanted to hold her close, show her what she meant to him, but told himself yet again that it was not the time. He hated that work the next day prevented them from spending another day in each other’s company, and it seemed she felt the same way.

  He found it strange to feel disappointment at the necessity of going to work. After all, since the day he’d gotten his first position with Tallent and Wilde, he’d seen every day as another opportunity to improve his circumstances, get another step closer to his goals, make his dreams of a big house and security come true. Now, when that fact was multiplied tenfold, he could only wish for another day to spend with Maria. He couldn’t let her drift away after two glorious days.

  After a short silence, he said, “I begin work tomorrow, but we could spend time together in the evening. And I will have a free morning Thursday. Would that be all right?”

  Maria smiled, though it was slightly hesitant. “I can’t see you in the evenings, but I will come here Thursday morning and we can talk. There are many things we should discuss.”

  He agreed. There were things to discuss. He would need to decide what to do about this pull he felt whenever he was near her, and sort it out enough by Thursday to talk about it. It would be a long couple of days, he knew, but maybe the distance would give him a little clarity.

  He pressed her hand with both of his. “Thursday, then. Don’t come until after ten, though. You need your rest, and I’m afraid Mrs. Jessup will ask me to leave the premises if you arrive at seven in the morning.”

  His joke fell flat, and he felt a gulf opening between them. He hesitated for a moment, wanting more, but finally turned to the boarding house. Her hand slipped from his. As he opened the door, she said his name. He stopped and turned back.

  She pressed her hands together and appeared anxious about something. “Jimmy, until we see each other again, don’t—“

  Maria paused, as if uncertain what she was going to say. “Don’t get into trouble,” she finished awkwardly.

  She seemed dissatisfied with what she had said, and he considered asking her to clarify, but she turned and began walking down the dusty street, toward the heart of town. What was she holding back? He hoped she would tell him Thursday.

  The next two days were torture for Mary. The evenings were the worst of her life, even counting her first days at Daisy’s. She spent all her time downstairs anxiously watching for Jimmy to walk into the saloon, and every moment upstairs was agony. Her attempts to sleep each morning were interrupted by guilt and frustration.

  She needed to tell him. It was that simple. She resolved to tell him as soon as she saw him Thursday, whatever the consequences.

  Her resolution did nothing to ease her mind or settle her feelings, however. Daisy was a caring employer, but she had a business to run, and Maria’s behavior could not last much longer if she expected to keep her job.

  As much as she hated it, she needed to keep it a short while longer. Her accumulated wealth was not nearly enough to live on, especially not with the cost of Emma’s care, but if she worked for a few more months she might be able to leave and find something else. What she could do instead, though, she had no idea. She had attempted to find a different position the year before, and she and Emma nearly starved before she broke down and went to Daisy’s. She refused to do that again.

  Tuesday passed in these tormenting thoughts, so Mary was relieved on Wednesday when she realized she had a lesson with Angelina and had told Mrs. Harper she would visit Emma in the afternoon. Better yet, she had Wednesday nights off. Daisy gave each girl one of the slower weeknights off a week unless she was needed for some reason, and it felt like it had been years since she had last gotten a reprieve.

  When she knocked on Angelina’s door, she prayed that the older woman would help take her mind off Jimmy and Daisy’s and all the other issues that had been building up in her, threatening to overwhelm everything about her and leave Mary a tired, empty shell.

  The moment Angelina opened the door, the wrinkles around her eyes and on her forehead deepened as she squinted at Mary. “You look awful,” she stated bluntly.

  Mary’s hand ran over the thick braid of hair and down the side of her dress. She had looked in the mirror that morning and noticed her unkempt hair and clothing, the circles under her eyes, but it had seemed too much effort to fix. She didn’t want to think about the bags under her eyes or the sallow tone of her skin.

  Angelina ushered her in and sat her down at the table. “What has happened? Are you ill?”

  Mary shook her head. “No, I’m well. Things have been…a little difficult lately, but it will all be sorted out soon. I would rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind.”

  Though Angelina was one of her few good friends, Mary wanted nothing more than to ignore her troubles, and rehashing them for her friend seemed like more than she could bear. Thankfully, Angelina accepted her wish with a nod and pulled the copy of Les Miserables out of Mary’s hand. “How much of this have you read?”

  Mary lowered her gaze. “To tell the truth, only the first few pages. I haven’t been very diligent in my reading recently.”

  “Is it too difficult?”

  Mary felt guilt swirl inside her. “No. I mean, it is difficult, but I could do better. I’ve been distracted the past few days. I will read more, I promise, and when I come for my lesson on Saturday I will have made some progress.”

  Some reading might even keep her mind off of other, less palatable topics. Angelina nodded. “Well, find your place and begin reading aloud.”

  Mary opened to the correct page, woefully close to the beginning of the large tome, and began to read. Over the previous few weeks, Angelina’s corrections had become much less frequent, but today it seemed as if Mary could hardly pronounce a single word correctly, and she could barely decipher the text. After ten minutes of struggling that felt interminable, she closed the book in frustration. She was getting nowhere.
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  It seemed Angelina felt the same way. “That’s enough French for today, I think. Let’s move on to writing and grammar.”

  Maria took a deep breath and calmed her mind, focusing on the task at hand as she grasped the pen and dipped it in the inkwell. Her hand shook a little, either from fatigue or stress or some other cause, she was unsure. But her letters and words flew smoothly onto the paper. She listened carefully to Angelina’s voice and followed the commands, allowing her mind to lose itself in the lines of ink.

  Angelina’s voice stopped at one point, but Mary’s hand continued across the page, almost as if it was working of its own accord. It was only when Angelina sat down beside her and placed her hand on Mary’s arm did she stop and look up. Angelina’s eyes were thoughtful. “Are you sure you have nothing you need to discuss?”

  Mary considered sharing everything with the older woman, but it felt wrong. She attempted a smile. “Thank you, Angelina, but I’ll figure it out right enough. I was a bit out of sorts today, but things will be better when I see you next.”

  She hoped it was true.

  Before she left, Mary took the paper full of her neat handwriting, folded it in half and half again, and tore it into pieces. She knew that whatever she had written, it was not something she wanted to read. Angelina said nothing, and Mary strode to the door. She felt no better, but perhaps time with Emma would help. Her hand was on the door when Angelina called to her from the kitchen doorway. “If you need me, dear, I will be here. You know that.”

  Mary nodded without turning and opened the door. Her eyes were swimming in tears, though she couldn’t pinpoint exactly why.

  By the time she arrived at the Harper’s to visit Emma, she had mastered herself and no longer felt the threat of tears. Mrs. Harper gave her a keen looking-over, but Mary was thankful she asked no questions. “Good afternoon, Mary. Emma will be glad to see you, I think. She is doing quite well today.”