The Giver of Stars(94)

He glanced through the door to where the younger man still stood outside with the O’Hare girl. ‘He’ll be in once he’s seen her off.’ He was aware of a vague sense of disappointment that it hadn’t been his own son who had stood to push the girl out.

But the strangest thing: as O’Hare continued to yell and gesticulate outside, Gustavsson, rather than dusting off his hands and returning to the restaurant, took a step forward, his forehead lowered towards Margery O’Hare’s.

As Van Cleve watched, frowning, Margery’s hands briefly covered her face and both of them stood very still. And then, clear as anything in the moonlight, Sven Gustavsson placed a protective hand on the swell of O’Hare’s belly, waiting until she looked up at him, and covered it gently with her own, before he kissed her.

‘Exactly how much trouble do you want to get yourself into?’

Margery pushed at Sven blindly, trying to free herself, but he held tight to her upper arms.

‘You didn’t see it, Sven! Thousands of gallons of his poison! And him acting like it’s just the river, and William and Sophia’s house ruined, and all the land and water round Monarch Creek destroyed for I don’t know how long.’

‘I don’t doubt it, Marge, but going at him in front of a restaurant full of people isn’t going to help anything.’

‘He should be shamed! He thinks he can get away with anything! And don’t you dare pull me out of there like I’m a – a badly trained dog!’ She pushed hard with both hands, finally breaking his grip, and he lifted his palms.

‘I just … I just didn’t want him to come at you. You saw what he did to Alice.’

‘I’m not scared of him!’

‘Well, maybe you should be. You got to be clever with a man like Van Cleve. He’s cunning. You know that. C’mon, Margery. Don’t let your temper trip you up. We’ll go about this the right way. I don’t know. Talk to the foreman. The unions. Write to the governor. There are ways.’

Margery seemed to subside a little.

‘C’mon now.’ He reached out a hand. ‘You don’t have to fight every damn battle by yourself.’

Something gave in her then. She kicked at the dirt, waiting for her breathing to slow. When she looked up, her eyes glittered with tears. ‘I hate him, Sven. I do. He destroys everything that’s beautiful.’

Sven pulled her to him. ‘Not everything.’ He placed his hand on her belly and left it there until he felt her soften in his arms. ‘C’mon,’ he said, and kissed her. ‘Let’s go home.’

Small towns being what they were, and Margery being who she was, it wasn’t too long before word got out that she was carrying, and for a few days at least, every place where townspeople were prone to meeting – the feed merchant, the churches, the general store – was thick with the news of it. There were those for whom this just confirmed everything they thought of Frank O’Hare’s daughter. Another no-good O’Hare child, no doubt destined for disgrace or disaster. There would always be those for whom any baby out of wedlock was a matter for vocal and emphatic disapproval. But there were also those whose minds were still thick with the flood and memories of what she’d said about Van Cleve’s part in it. Luckily for her, they seemed to comprise most of the townspeople, who believed that when so much bad had taken place, a new baby, whatever the circumstances, was nothing to get too aerated about.

Apart from Sophia, that was.

‘You gonna marry that man now?’ she said, when she heard.

‘Nope.’

‘Because you selfish?’

Margery had been writing a letter to the governor. She put down her pen and shot Sophia a look.

‘Don’t you side-eye me, Margery O’Hare. I know what you think about being joined under the Lord. Believe me, we all know your views. But this ain’t just about you any more, is it? You want that baby to get called names in the schoolyard? You want her to grow up second class? You want her to miss out because people won’t have one of them in the house?’

Margery opened the door so that Fred could drop another load of books back into the library. ‘Can we at least wait for her to get here before you start scolding me?’

Sophia raised her eyebrows. ‘I’m just saying. Life’s hard enough growing up in this town without you giving the poor child another yoke around its neck. You know darn well how people made judgements about you based on what your parents did, decisions you had no hand in.’

‘All right, Sophia.’

‘Well, they did. And it’s only because you’re so pig-headed that you was able to make the life you wanted. What if she ain’t like you?’

‘She’ll be like me.’

‘Shows how much you know about children.’ Sophia snorted. ‘I’m going to say it once. This ain’t just about what you want any more.’ She slammed her ledger down on her desk. ‘And you need to think about that.’

Sven was no better. He sat on the rickety kitchen chair, polishing his boots while she sat on one side of the settle, and although his words were fewer, and his voice calmer, his point was just the same.

‘I’m not going to ask you again, Margery. But this changes things. I want to be known as this child’s father. I want to do it all properly. I don’t want our baby to be brought up a bastard.’