"THERE'S SOMEBODY AT THE DOOR!!!"
"Yeah, you should've told me," he said grimly, meeting Jemima's eyes. "I damn near made a fool of myself. I mean, I guess I did anyway. But I wouldn't have gotten so drunk." He glanced up as Arabella expressed curiosity about Hector's encounter with Pettigrew. "You can tell about it if you want. I ain't really listenin'." He leaned back into Jemima's touch.
Jemima would normally have kept her mouth shut, but having Mr Connolly so close and touching him like this was a heady experience she didn't want to stop and as Arabella sat down on the bed on the other side of Brendan and encouraged her with an encouraging "Go on, we won't tell anybody" she found herself relating the tale.
"Well, it's just that one night Heck was in the saloon and was just chatting away to folks, you know how gregarious he is...." Jemima started.
"Yeah, that boy's gregarious, all right." Arabella agreed.
"Well, Mister Pettigrew was in there too and he was well oiled, I mean he could hardly stand, so Heck put his arms around him and helped him get home, you know, neighbourly like."
Arabella nodded. "He is neighbourly."
"Anyhow" Jemima continued "When they got back here, Mister Pettigrew tried to kiss him, right on the lips, too. Anyway, Heck decked him, called him all sorts of names and stormed off. You remember when Mr Pettigrew had that black eye? Well, he didn't walk in to a door like he told everyone, that was my brother." she went on.
Arabella just let out a low whistle.
"Well, the next day Hector got to thinking, you know, about the night before. He remembered how he'd been around the girls in the saloon: trying to put his arms around Miss Mundee, and squeezing Mrs Adam's... 'chests', and he said he even tried to kiss you at one point!"
Arabella just laughed at this "I guess desperate times leads to desperate measures!" she shook her head "I can't even remember that!"
Jemima continued.
"Well, Heck realised that he'd been just as big a lecher with you and Caroline as Mister Pettigrew had been with him: and he wasn't really any better than him, in a way. And he came round here and went up to Mister Pettigrew and shook his hand and apologised for thumping him in the face and said 'no hard feelings'. And Mister Connolly, I think that's what you should do right now, just like my brother did."
"That's a good idea" nodded Arabella "Kinda 'clear the air'."
Although Brendan didn't agree with Hector's choice to apologize to Mr. Pettigrew -- and in fact felt that the younger man's first reaction had been appropriate -- it did put things in a new light for him. With his initial obsession over Caroline, and even the surge of jealousy he'd had when he'd heard Arabella talking about her relationship with Lieutenant Green, he was just as bad as Pettigrew and Hector. Not to mention the whole Bridget fiasco, but that was different in his head because he loved her.
But Jemima's suggestion shocked him almost as much as Arabella's revelation about Pettigrew had.
"Me apologize to him?!" Brendan echoed incredulously. His hungover brain struggled to find a reason to back up his reticence, so he took another sip of coffee and stewed. Finally he had a coherent thought. "I didn't hit him -- least as far as I know -- and he's the one who was tryin' to undress me. He should be the one apologizin' to me." He might be as bad as Pettigrew in some ways, but there was one way he was better.
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
"Me apologize to him?!" Brendan echoed incredulously. His hungover brain struggled to find a reason to back up his reticence, so he took another sip of coffee and stewed. Finally he had a coherent thought. "I didn't hit him -- least as far as I know -- and he's the one who was tryin' to undress me. He should be the one apologizin' to me." He might be as bad as Pettigrew in some ways, but there was one way he was better.
Both girls looked at each other and yelled in chorus:
"NO!!"
"NO!!"
"Course you don't need to apologise to him, y'loon: he's the one who pulled your pants down!" Arabella said pithily, which made Jemima turn away slightly in embarrassment "But you need to see him and sorta 'break the ice'. Otherwise you two fellers are gonna spend the next ten years sneaking around town trying to avoid bumpin' into each other."
"Yeah, like you and Anæsthesia Orr" pointed out Jemima.
Arabella looked flustered "Never mind me! We're talking about him!" she barked, pointing at Brendan. "An' also, Jemima Wigfall, I told you that in confidence! Now listen Mississippi, let's you and me call in at my house on the way to work and fix it all up so you and him's friends again, but so he knows you ain't takin' any more of his frisky applesauce" she suggested "And he's only allowed to lower your britches in the line of business, as it were."
Brendan was still trying to think of other reasons not to apologize to Pettigrew when the girls practically yelled in unison, "NO!!"
Brendan flinched as the noise assaulted his head, and frowned. "But you said-"
"Course you don't need to apologise to him, y'loon: he's the one who pulled your pants down!" Arabella went on to explain what she and Jemima had really meant, and the light finally began to glimmer in Brendan's brain. What the girls were saying made sense. There was no need to walk on eggshells around Pettigrew -- or for the tailor to do so around him -- when that could be avoided.
"Fine," he said, throwing a hand up in the air. It was easier just to agree at this point. With Arabella being Arabella, and his head still feeling like it might explode, Brendan didn't feel up to arguing. "Fine, we'll go. Just -- hang on --" He guzzled the rest of his doctored-up coffee, even though it was still hot, took one last swig from Jemima's whiskey flask before he pressed it back into her hands without looking -- he actually pressed it into her bosom -- and pushed himself up from the bed.
A few minutes later, he'd pulled on all his clothes, shoved his feet into his boots, and was standing upright. "All right. Let's go put ol' Pettigrew outta his misery."
He didn't mean it the way it sounded, of course, but he could imagine that if Pettigrew's hangover was anything like his, the man must be pretty miserable this morning. Add to that the overly-active conscience and fear of being found out that Pettigrew had displayed the night before, Brendan's trip wasn't just clearing the air. It was a mission of mercy.
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
Brendan and Arabella left Jemima to tidy up the debris of the night before, and bemoan her empty whiskey flask, while they ventured out into the slightly foggy morning. "I love it when the weather's like this, so misty and mysterious!" gushed Arabella, tucking her arm into Brendan's as they walked "I feel like I'm in a story!". When she eventually joined the theatre company as a proper actress, Miss Hardy would always worry so about her little protégé appearing 'respectable' but the girl from the Clinch Mountains would never really manage to keep her natural affection for those she liked under control.
They got to the "Home for Christian Girls" and entered to find one such making breakfast for a portly ginger haired gentleman who was chatting away genially to the blind girl, Frances Grimes, as she waited on him hand and foot.
"... why yes, that was in about '54 when the pleated skirts were in... oh!"
He stood up abruptly, scraping the chair legs on the floorboards, when the two newcomers entered, as if he expected Mr Connolly to go 'Hector Wigfall' all over his sorry ass.
"Mr Connolly! I... er..." he looked alarmed. Frances beamed over at them, well, generally in their direction. "Oh, Mr Connolly, are you looking for Arabella?" she chirped.
"No I'm here!" Arabella informed her "Mississippi's just here to say hello to Wus, ain't you?" she asked.
Of course Arabella liked it when it was foggy. She would, never having to account for a herd of cattle in fog like this. Right now, Brendan was just grateful the sun wasn't out, because that wouldn't have helped his head at all. He just ambled along beside Arabella until they found themselves at the Home for Christian Girls or whatever it was called.
And then Arabella was prompting him to speak. Brendan realized that he should have been thinking of what to say to Pettigrew already. Now he had to come up with something on the spot. He muttered "Hey, Frances," so she wouldn't think he was snubbing her, and squared up with Pettigrew, thinking fast.
"I...uh...wanted to thank you for last night. For the drinks!" he said quickly. "And for doin' such a...thorough job with the measurin' and all that. I appreciate it." Feeling rather pleased with himself, he flashed a smile at Jemima and then stuck his hand out to Pettigrew.
Something he'd said last night popped back into his head. "We southerners gotta stick together." With that he gave the tailor a wink. If he ever had the occasion to need a new suit or some tailoring, he could come back to Pettigrew to prove that there really were no hard feelings.
Except...he did, just for a minute, allow himself to imagine slugging Pettigrew in the face. But he pushed the thought aside, knowing it wouldn't make anything better. And he was trying to be respectable now. Punching the town tailor wouldn't help him in his quest for respectability.
"Where are the snows of yesterday" - Villon
"I...uh...wanted to thank you for last night. For the drinks!" he said quickly. "And for doin' such a...thorough job with the measurin' and all that. I appreciate it." Feeling rather pleased with himself, he flashed a smile at Jemima and then stuck his hand out to Pettigrew.
"Well, er, that's very,...er..." stuttered Pettigrew, not knowing quite what to say and very touched that the good-looking young man whom he had very nearly taken advantage of, was being so forgiving and friendly.
Something he'd said last night popped back into his head. "We southerners gotta stick together." With that he gave the tailor a wink. If he ever had the occasion to need a new suit or some tailoring, he could come back to Pettigrew to prove that there really were no hard feelings.
Arabella gave a little rebel yell at that, which made Frances nearly drop the dish in her hand.
"Forgive a mere Yankee butting in, but is there something going on here that I am failing to perceive?" the blind girl asked plaintively.
To two men shook hands and Pettigrew sank back into his chair with a palpable sigh of relief.
"No, it's all right Franny..." said Arabella, taking over at the hob: having Frances in charge of an oven was neither safe nor tidy "... I don't reckon Mississippi or Wus'll be about joinin' my Temperance League any time soon, but I reckon you'll both be a little more careful with the booze from now on, right gents!"
"Amen to that!" said Pettigrew quietly.
Arabella waltzed up to the table and plonked down two plates of bacon and eggs.
"Come on, eat up - hangover or not!" she ordered the fellers. Frances was getting the idea now that the two men had gotten themselves drunk and maybe fallen out over something, but nothing more than that. Wus winced, but picked up a knife and fork and set to work on the greasy breakfast offering.
Ha! Pettigrew was taken aback by Brendan's surprise move. That took the wind out of his sails. Kill 'em with kindness, that was what people said you were supposed to do. Well, it had worked with Pettigrew. Brendan started to feel just a little bit better about the whole thing.
He also jumped at Arabella's yell, but unlike Frances, he knew what it meant and grinned at Arabella even though the noise had hurt his head. "Careful? Nah, that ain't somethin' I know how to be." He pulled a chair up at the table and started in on the food.
Once he'd taken a few bites, he realized how hungry he was and began to eat faster. "So you got a temperance league?" he asked with his mouth full, leaning on the table to look at Arabella. "Didn't you work the beer tent at the last shindig we had?"
Not to mention that she had lived and worked in a saloon, for Pete's sake. But he reminded himself that this was Arabella, and although she'd done a lot of growing up in the past few months still had a long way to go.
"Keep your face to the sunshine and you cannot see the shadows" - Helen Keller
Once he'd taken a few bites, he realized how hungry he was and began to eat faster. "So you got a temperance league?" he asked with his mouth full, leaning on the table to look at Arabella. "Didn't you work the beer tent at the last shindig we had?"
"Well, I work at the funeral parlour, too, but that don't make me dead!" countered Arabella.
"I used to try and get fellers to sign the pledge when I first started at the saloon, but I got told to stop it in case it hurt business and also I tried to pin a blue ribbon on a bare chested red injun one time and, boy, did he do a war dance after that!" she claimed.
Frances and Pettigrew laughed, though neither of them believed that tale for a minute.
"These days I just try and help those who I can see have a real problem with the demon booze" she continued "But as for me 'Water Bright is my One Delight'"
Frances beamed, clearly of the same mind and reached out her hand. Arabella took it and squeezed it.
"So, Mr Connelly, Arabella tells me you are going to visit your sweetheart Miss Monahan this weekend. Are you going to take her a little gift? We girls like little gifts you know." asked Frances, perhaps a little cheekily. And why shouldn't a blind girl be as cheeky as the next girl?
Honestly, how did Arabella make up such fanciful tales and how did she string them all together in her head? Brendan shook his head, chuckling as she told about her escapades with the temperance movement.
"Yeah, well, me and Pettigrew don't got a problem with demon booze, so don't ask us to join." He turned his attention back to his food. Then all of a sudden Frances was asking him a question.
"Um--" Brendan paused with his fork in midair. He'd thought his presence was present enough for Bridget. This courting thing was proving to be more difficult than he thought. "I guess I oughta bring her somethin'." He looked around the table at his eating companions. "What should I bring her?"
He could pick a handful of flowers, sure, but would Bridget like flowers? He realized there was so much he didn't know about her.