The Christmas party for the School Board of Logan County High School was held at the home of Peter Morgan, president of the School Board. A small group had gathered, just the members and their wives, and the elementary and high school principals, with their guests.
The Morgan house was a stately residence, one of the largest on a block of other impressive homes. Gaslights lit every room, in addition to blazing fireplaces. The large entrance hall displayed a gray and white marble floor, with a flowing staircase leading to the second level. Holly, interspersed with red ribbons, adorned the banister. A huge Christmas tree sat in the middle of the front parlor, where the maid who took their coats directed them.
The men immediately huddled in a corner with glasses of whiskey to discuss politics and education, while the women sipped tea and hot apple cider and visited with each other. The women discussed children, grandchildren, and the difficulty in finding good household help. Every woman present except Ellie sported a wedding ring.
After a lull in conversation, a small woman with tidy steel gray curls surrounding her face turned to Ellie. “Miss Henderson, I understand you teach at the high school?” She’d been introduced as Martha Filmore, a wife of one of the board members.
“Yes, that’s right. I teach history.” She smiled at her.
“It must be dreadful getting up to go to a job every day. I’m sure you’re anxious to find a husband and leave all that nonsense behind.” Another woman, tall and thin, with pinched features nodded her head furiously as she spoke.
Ellie narrowed her eyes. “Indeed not. I love my job, and I receive a great deal of satisfaction from
teaching.”
Each woman in turn looked at her as if she’d just announced she planned to take her clothes off and dance on the table. No one responded.
She snuck a peek at her timepiece and decided she’d had enough. Far from raising her spirits and putting her in the Christmas mood, this party depressed her and made her ache even more for what she would never have, despite what she’d just told the women. “If you will excuse me, I need to speak with Mr. Colbert for a moment.” A few of the women glanced at each other, a smile on their lips.
Max stood in the corner, his back to her, speaking with another man. “So have you had any luck in getting that teacher married off and out of your hair?” The man Max spoke with smiled at him and slapped him on the back
Max’s shoulders stiffened. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
“Come on, Colbert, the word around the Club is you invited a couple of the members to a concert and a dinner party, and then showed up with some teacher you were trying to marry off. Forest said you wouldn’t have much luck because she’s a terrible cook.” He rubbed his stomach. “Not good for the digestion.”
Max mumbled, “If you will excuse me,” turned on his heel, and came face to face with Ellie, who stood not three feet from him.
Eyes wide, all the blood gone from her face, she raised a shaky hand to her lips. “How could you?” she whispered.
“Ellie, wait.” He reached for her, but she turned and fled out the front door. Max set his drink down and strode up to Peter Morgan. “Miss Henderson isn’t feeling well, so we will be leaving.”
“Wait while I get your coats.” Morgan turned and opened the hall closet, took out two wool coats, scarves, and hats.
“Thanks.” Max grabbed them and hurried through the doorway, then down the steps. The street was empty, Ellie nowhere in sight. A cold lump of fear settled in his stomach. Where could she have gone? She’d been out of his sight for only a couple minutes. He dumped the clothes in the automobile and slid behind the steering wheel. With his heartbeat pounding, he cranked the engine, and the motorcar started up.
He rode two blocks, didn’t see her, and turned in the other direction. He found her striding along the road, arms wrapped around her middle. “Ellie.”
She turned, shook her head, and kept going.
“Ellie, stop.”
He pulled up alongside the road, turned off the engine, and exited the car. He hurried after her and grabbed her coat. “Here.” He put the coat around her shoulders. “Come back to the motorcar so I can drive you home.”
“No.” She shrugged his arm off, pulled the coat closer around her body, and kept walking.
“You can’t walk home from here, it’s too far.”
She turned to face him, eyes swollen, her nose red from the cold and crying. “Go away.”
“Look.” He circled around in front of her and raised both palms in surrender. “I won’t touch you, won’t even talk to you, but you have to get into the automobile and let me drive you home.”
Ellie stood staring at him, shaking from the cold. God, how he loved this woman. Her smell, her touch, her voice. She’d crawled into his heart and had taken up permanent residence. He could not let her go, even though she drove him to distraction, and had disrupted his well-thought-out life, and made his gut burn with desire.
“You’re a sneaking, lowdown skunk, Max Colbert. All the time I thought you were being nice to me, might even—even l-l-like me. Instead, you were trying to pass me off as a wife to some stranger! You’re despicable. And I never want to lay eyes on you again.” She hiccupped.
“Can I explain?” Nothing he wanted more than to take her in his arms and kiss her tears away. However, since he didn’t relish getting a bloody nose, he kept his distance.
“No. Either get out of my way so I can walk home, or,” she paused, eyeing the motorcar, “or drive me home and never speak to me again.”