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1
ADDIE
The air smelledof love that afternoon in the June of 1934, a combination of wild roses and pine needles. I was a fanciful young woman, prone to daydreaming, but today it was as if all my senses were on high alert. Under the shade of the awning, my sister Fiona and I waited for James West’s train to arrive from New York City for his annual summer visit to our little mountain town in Colorado. James. James West. He was my secret and most likely unrequited love. I’d been only a child when he’d first come to Emerson Pass. Now I was grown and ever hopeful that this would be the summer he noticed me.
Noticed me. What did that mean, really? Would he suddenly see me as a woman instead of his best friend’s younger sister? My stomach fluttered as if the bees that currently jumped from flower to flower were alive within me.
Around me, people waited on the train platform, most of whom I recognized, chatting or merely standing in silence. Were any of them as anxious as I to see the train pull into the station? Did anyone else have a secret, as I did? If so, were they secrets of the heart, as mine was?
Emerson Pass was still a small town, although it had grown by thousands before the depression hit the country. We’d stagnated since then but still considered ourselves lucky. Other parts of America were suffering much more than the people in our small community. We looked after one another here. No one went hungry in Emerson Pass, my father often said. “Even if I have to feed them myself.”
“It’s terribly hot, isn’t it?” Fiona asked, breaking into my thoughts. “I’m rather done with the heat, and the summer’s barely begun.”
I glanced at her, surprised. She was not one to complain. Her cheeks were pink from the summer heat, and tendrils of her hair escaped their careful arrangement and curled at the nape of her damp neck. Dark smudges under her eyes told me she hadn’t been getting enough sleep. None of this took from her beauty. In fact, she appeared as she always had, despite her challenging work demands. She remained petite and slight, with dark hair and fair skin. Her tiny waist gave no hint that she’d carried twins just four years previous. It was only the fine lines around her mouth that had deepened. Only slightly, mind you, considering she was raising four boys while keeping up with her musical career. Two sets of twins, no less.
She’d surprised us all when she gave birth to twin boys four years ago. She somehow juggled her two sets of twins with grace and what seemed like ease. I knew it wasn’t always as idyllic as she made it seem. She’d been my age—only twenty—when six years ago, she and Li had adopted eight-year-old boys they’d found living on the streets of Paris. My parents had worried she was too young to have a sudden family, but they needn’t have fretted. Fiona was born wise beyond her years and with the heart of a saint. At least that’s how she seemed to me.
“Are you feeling all right?” I asked her now, suddenly worried.
“I’m fine. Tired.” She covered a yawn with her fist. “We’ve been up late composing, and the little boys wake with the rooster and never seem to run out of energy.” She and her husband, Li, had fallen in with the motion picture people out west and now composed musical scores. It was too exciting.
“It’s been a long week and I’ve been looking forward to seeing James, but all I want is a nap.” Fiona tilted her head to rest against my shoulder for a moment. I was four inches taller and had white-blond hair and light blue eyes. Anywhere but here in town, no one would have known we were sisters. In Emerson Pass, however, the Barnes family was somewhat infamous. Our father had built the town from his own will and desire to create a thriving community for his children. He’d succeeded. Now that he was older, he’d slowed down quite a bit, handing over a lot of his business to my brothers and brother-in-law.
“I can look after James for you,” I said. “Entertain him today, I mean.”
“He’ll like that very much. He’s very fond of you. Also, I may have mentioned to him about your manuscript. He offered to take a look at it for you.”
I gulped, nervous just thinking about someone as esteemed as James looking at my work. “We’ll see.”
“I think I may be having another baby,” Fiona said casually, as if it were an afterthought. “Hopefully only one this time.”
“Really? Fiona, are you sure?” Another baby? Before she knew it, she’d have seven kids like our parents.
“I’m not entirely sure, so I’m keeping it to myself for now.”
“Except for me?” I smiled, pleased. She and my sister Cymbeline were close confidants. I was flattered to have been told such news first.
“I do hope dear James is doing well,” Fiona said. “His last letter hinted at trouble. Perhaps with his work?”
“I hope not.”
“It may be only a matter of exhaustion,” Fiona said. “We’ll put him back together before sending him back to the chaos of the city.”
He’d been away an entire year this time. Between editing projects, he came “home” to Emerson Pass to rest and recuperate. He had several famous authors he worked with and he’d confessed to me the summer before that they’d temporarily robbed him of his health and spirit. I had asked why and he’d said they were difficult in various ways. One was a drunk, and James had to cajole him to finish projects. I couldn’t even imagine it, but I knew James would not exaggerate.
We were here for him, regardless. Whenever he needed to be buoyed or pampered, we were here like the cushions in our sofas, soft, reliable, and comforting.
The first time I ever laid eyes on him I thought I might faint dead away. I’m not exaggerating, either. My legs had actually wobbled. I made a mental note at the time to use it in one of my future novels, this feeling of being utterly smitten with a man. I’d never have thought it possible. I had always been more of the studious, quiet type, happy with my books and my paper and pen.
My breath caught as the train came around the bend and chugged into the station, bringing the scent of oil and smoke. Steam rose in clouds around the engine as it squeaked to a stop. I searched the windows of the first-class car for James. “There he is,” I said, breathless. At last he’d returned to us.
Fiona, perhaps sensing my excitement, glanced my way. Her brow worried into a crease and those eyes of hers, those all-seeing eyes, could perhaps see straight through me. Did she suspect my secret feelings for James? I’d told no one, not even Delphia. Not Cym or Jo or even my mother. It was too embarrassing as well as possibly mortifying if my affection was seen as a foolish little girl’s crush.
He appeared in the doorway of the passenger car and then, seeing Fiona and me standing together, waved. Grinning, he bounded from the train and headed our way. His smile, etched into my memory and my dreams at night, had the same effect it had the first time I ever met him. I’d been only fourteen that summer my sister and Li brought him home with them from Paris. A penniless nobleman, Fiona had said. James had dreamt of being a book editor back then. He’d made his dreams come true, working at one of the New York publishing houses. Despite the depression that had swept the nation, he had managed to keep his job. He worked with several successful novelists, and it was said that without him the books would not have seen the light of day. Fiona believed the reason for their success was James’s excellent taste and nurturing guidance. I had no doubt that she was correct.
I thought of my finished manuscript. Would James think it had promise, or would he pat me on the head and send me off to my dreamland? Never mind that. James was here. That’s all I cared about for now.
The sunlight glinted off his thick copper-tinted dark blond hair. A lock had broken free of the pomade and hung attractively over his forehead.
