A Lesson in Love and Murder (Herringford and Watts Mysteries, #2)(7)
Ray studied her a moment in their silence, and his face softened. “You’re looking pale. You’ve obviously spent too long thinking about this. Don’t worry, Jem. The longer the anarchist groups stay in Toronto, the bigger Hog readership will grow.” He smiled. “And of course my lady detectives have had something to do with the growing readership.” He ran a hand over his face and smiled. “The two of us will be fine. Always. I promise.”
“What about the three of us?” Her eyes skipped to all four corners of the sitting room, looking anywhere but directly at him. She coughed. “You and I can scrape by, but I am telling you, we’ll have our own family soon. I know you have to keep sending money to Viola. It’s just a… ” She massaged her temples.
If Ray’s dark complexion could pale, it did so at that moment. “Are you sure?”
“I’ve shocked you,” Jem said. “Most people find this news happy.” She tried on a brighter voice for size. It didn’t fit. “I haven’t been feeling quite myself and was dizzy on the trolley today. Actually, a bit more than dizzy. I fainted. No, no… ” She pasted on a false smile. “The lovely old lady I toppled on was so attentive and kind. So I stopped in at the doctor, and he confirmed what I had suspected.”
Ray froze in his chair. “I’ll just find a better job.”
“You love your job.”
“I love you more than a job, Jemima.”
The clock ticked toward midnight. This conversation had gone differently in her head. She’d imagined him taking her in his arms, kissing her proudly, flitting about her with concern, making sure she didn’t exert herself, that she was rested and comfortable. Instead…
“Oh, Jem, what did we get ourselves into?” He stretched his hand out to her. “Penniless Reporter Marries Bachelor Girl Detective! And he doesn’t even have two cents to rub together. You’d be better off if I had left you where I found you.”
“In trousers outside the Elgin Theatre? Ray, please!” When he didn’t say anything, she feigned pleasantry, trying to mask her disappointment. “I think I’ll go to King Street for the night.” She was sure he’d break into her sentence, but he remained quiet, watching her. “Merinda sent Kat over earlier about a client,” she lied, “and I think it would do my mind good to focus on a case.” She rose.
“Jemima, sit back down. I don’t want you to think I’m angry with you. It’s late and… ”
“There was never going to be a good time, was there? With your always running off for a story and the trolley explosions and worrying about Viola and my losing a part of our income we need.” She pulled her shawl tightly around her. “It’s been weeks since we actually talked about anything. I know you’re worried about Viola. But I worry about us too. We pass each other. You come and I go. And I miss you.” Her eyes, filmed with tears, couldn’t see him anymore. “I’m going to Merinda’s to help with this client. And you can stay here and write about the trolley explosion or call your beloved sister from a dead telephone!”
She bounded up the stairs, slammed the bedroom door shut, threw clothes fiercely into her case and slammed it shut, and then stomped back downstairs and to the front door.
She stopped. “Rats,” she hissed. She ducked back into the sitting room, where Ray was staring blankly at the wall. “Do you have a nickel for the trolley?” she asked sheepishly.
He grabbed her wrist gently and pulled her into his lap, tightening his arms around her a moment. “Mi dispiace, beautiful Jem.”
“Me too,” she said with a sigh.
“I don’t want you to go to Merinda’s like this.”
“Ray, I just want to understand you. But I don’t know what you’re thinking.”
“It’s my fault.” He looked at her kindly. “I try to protect you by not telling you what is happening. How I worry all the time for Viola. How my job upsets me. How I worry about you and Merinda.” He studied her intently for a moment. “And sometimes I think it would be easier if you were more like women who enjoyed working with flowers or lace. Crocheting doilies. Watering plants. But then I feel guilty. Because that’s not who you are.”
Jem grabbed his hand. She couldn’t speak.
“I can’t give you any of the things you deserve. We don’t even have a working telephone.” He touched her cheek. “You’re so fair and sweet, Jemima. You deserve some wonderful fairy-tale ending. I want more for you than what we have.”
“We have something better.” She tightened her grip. “Fairy tales just end. The excitement of turning a page and not knowing what happens? That ends. You never get to see the ever-after. Don’t you see, that’s what we’re in right now! The after. It’s a beginning and a constant adventure.”
“But we keep missing each other.” He nudged at a crack in the wood floor with his shoe.
“We don’t need to be in the same room for us to be together. You’re everywhere in this city for me. Every time I see something interesting or fresh or new! I just want to tell you about it. I want to turn back the clock to before these anarchists came when we could talk and spend time together.”
Ray’s eyes bored into Jem’s. “Lately, I try to cram everything into a few sentences because I am not sure when I will have a conversation with you again. And what I don’t say I keep to myself because I don’t want to upset you.”