From This Moment (44 page)

BOOK: From This Moment

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“An
orchestra
?”

“Just a quintet and an opera singer. Apparently the singer has laryngitis and has lost her voice, so all my grand plans are falling apart.”

“Oh dear,” she said, her heart squeezing at the wry amusement
on his face. She had no idea how he’d managed to get orange blossoms here, but it wasn’t an easy task to accomplish and she was sorry to have spoiled his surprise by chasing after that hotel porter.

“They were going to play
La Bohème
at dinner. You said it was your favorite.”

“It is.”

“Your mother told me you have a fiendish love for orange blossoms, and I already know about your weakness for Belgian chocolates. I wanted everything to be perfect for a first-class marriage proposal. I’m only planning on doing this once, you know.”

Her heart split wide open, for now she understood where this had all been leading. Dearest, sweetest Romulus. She didn’t need orange blossoms or fancy music, she just wanted the man standing before her, imperfections and all.

“I was going to propose at dinner tonight, but since everything has fallen apart, and I . . .” He swallowed hard. “Well, I suppose I should still try to do this properly.”

He sank down onto one knee and took her hand. His was trembling, hers was rock solid. He looked terrified. “Miss West,” he said on a ragged breath. He cleared his throat and looked like he was about to pass out.

“Please don’t have a heart attack,” she said. “Stand up before you fall over. Come, there is room here on the bench.”

She scooted over to make room for him, and they were both laughing by the time he joined her. It was a tight fit, and he clasped both her hands in his. The laughter broke his tension, and he suddenly seemed more relaxed. His smile was genuine and tender, his expression soft.

“Miss West,” he said in a much calmer voice, “I love you desperately and would be honored if you would marry me.”

“Thank you, Romulus. I would like that very much.”

For a few moments, all she could do was gaze at his face, so dear, so kind. From the moment she’d read his first wildly enthusiastic letter to her over three years ago, she had been attracted to him. “Half the women working at the magazine will go into mourning when they hear you are off the market,” she said. “Of course, they don’t know what they’d be getting.”

She’d meant it as a joke, but his eyes grew somber. “I know,” he said seriously. “I won’t be an easy man to be married to. You just saw it with the baccarat. Most of the time I really was working with Riley on the surprise for you, but once that was done, I got distracted by that blasted card game. It’s just the way my mind works. I latch on to something and can’t let it go—”

She pressed a finger to his lips. “I know. And I love you anyway.”

He pulled her finger away. “Do you? Because I’m pretty good at creating an impressive smokescreen, but behind it there is a whole world of scatterbrained thinking and maladjusted behaviors.”

She didn’t care. She loved him, flaws and all. “Romulus, you make me smile all the time. I’m moved beyond words that you tried to get an orchestra for me, but you didn’t need to do all this. All I want is you. I love the man who would drop everything to watch monarch butterflies as they migrate south. Who would hold his mother’s hand when she was in despair. Who would send me letters for three solid years because he admired my artwork. I want
you
. You’re vain, you’ve got cat hair on your trousers, and you’ve just wasted forty-eight hours of your life you can never get back playing cards with Riley McGraff, but I love you desperately.”

Her comment seemed to humble him. His eyes softened, and he touched the side of her face. “Give me a quick kiss. Then I’ll
get your parents and we will go to City Hall. There is something else we want to show you.”

She shot to her feet and obliged. What was supposed to be a quick kiss grew. And got deeper. And more magnificent.

Finally, she pulled back. “Show me!”

He led her toward the front of the lobby, where her parents waited for them. There was no sign of Riley McGraff, for which she was grateful. Her parents beamed in expectation.

“What’s this all about?” she asked. It was baffling that her parents could have been planning some sort of clandestine surprise with Romulus, but they refused to divulge any details on the walk to City Hall.

When they entered the building, Romulus walked straight past the elevators and headed toward the east wing and the Hall of Heroes. The marble hallway was lined with busts of famous Bostonians, and the walls held portraits of notable people, documents, and the architectural wonders of the city.

Romulus led the way, and she followed with her parents on either side of her. The gallery was nearly empty, and their footsteps echoed in the corridor. They walked past the busts of long-dead people and headed toward the section documenting more recent history.

Romulus slowed before a portrait hanging on the wall. “Here it is,” he said gently.

It was a portrait of Gwendolyn, the beautiful photograph made at the studio on Tarnower Street. Stella whirled to her parents, who gazed at the portrait with tears pooling in their eyes.

“Gwendolyn deserves to be remembered by more than just your family,” Romulus said. “Riley McGraff has been pulling strings at the State House to make the case that your sister belongs in this hall alongside the other notable Bostonians. A
plaque will be added with Gwendolyn’s name and a line of text outlining her contribution to the city.”

Stella’s finger trembled as she touched the cold silver frame, staring at the perfection of Gwendolyn’s idealistic, hopeful profile, looking upward at soft light shining on her face. “She will be forever young,” she said in a choked voice. “Why did you do this?”

Romulus said, “Sometimes art captures the human spirit in a way no words can ever hope to do.”

She rushed into his arms, hugging him tightly. Romulus knew, he understood. She buried her face in his neck, knowing she’d embarrass herself with noisy weeping the instant she pulled away. Gwendolyn was no longer here, but this lovely portrait would inspire people for generations to come.

Her parents did not want to mark Gwendolyn’s birthday by mourning. Rather, her mother had planned a celebration with a picnic on Boston Common.

Romulus joined them in the park, and they found a spot beneath a huge oak tree where men once gathered to agitate for freedom, willing to risk their lives for a cause. It was a fitting place to toast Gwendolyn, for she, too, had been a fighter, worthy of her revolutionary forefathers.

It was spring. Crocuses bloomed, and children played while parents looked on. The park represented a timeless haven that memorialized the city’s long and magnificent past. Gwendolyn herself was now a part of that storied history, having given her life for the city she loved so well. The actions of a brave, modest stenographer were already echoing through City Hall and creating change for the better.

Her father spread the blanket while Eloise laid out sliced fruit, cheese, and jam tarts packed for them by the hotel’s restaurant. Romulus popped a cork on a bottle of champagne in order to have a proper toast to Gwendolyn.

A rush of sentimentality came over Stella. How close she had come to dying only a few days earlier, but now she had been granted the gift of a cloudless afternoon like today. “At times like these, I feel like Gwendolyn is right here with us,” she said.

Her mother’s eyes had a sheen of tears, but her smile was genuine. “She is, dearest.”

And Stella knew it was true. Gwendolyn had not vanished into nothingness. She had merely gone to a different place. They toasted Gwendolyn, said a prayer in her honor, and then tore into the delicious meal Eloise had brought for them all. The memory of Gwendolyn would live with them forever, but it was time to move on, for they were alive to love and cherish every hour of the gift of life.

God still had a purpose for her. Stella wasn’t yet certain what he intended, but wasn’t that the beauty of it? She was alive. Her parents were happy. She and Romulus had been blessed with the talent and skill for meaningful work that inspired others. It was going to be a challenge to live up to Gwendolyn’s legacy, but by the grace of God, she was still here to try.

A
N
OTE
F
ROM THE
A
UTHOR

B
oston was the first city in America to build a subway. At the time, the only cities in the world with a subway were London, Glasgow, and Budapest, all of which were powered by steam and met with deep suspicion by the public. By the 1890s, developments in electrical power made the construction of safe, clean, and well-lit subways a possibility.

Boston and New York City began designing their subways at the same time, and both cities struggled with political wrangling, public skepticism, financial setbacks, and safety concerns. Construction on New York’s subway was repeatedly delayed due to financing troubles and the challenges of tunneling through the hard bedrock that underlay much of Manhattan.

Construction on the Boston subway was halted after the gas explosion at the intersection of Tremont and Boylston. In all, six people were killed and sixty others seriously injured. Despite the explosion, the Boston subway opened on time and under budget on September 1, 1897. The subway in New York City opened seven years later.

Q
UESTIONS FOR
C
ONVERSATION

At the beginning of the novel, Romulus’s self-worth is defined entirely by his career as a successful publisher. What are the things that define your own view of yourself? Do these things ever throw other areas of your life out of balance?
Clyde’s crisis after the explosion draws him and Evelyn closer together. It has often been said that tragedy will either pull couples apart or render them stronger. What qualities do people need to become closer rather than drift apart?
Michael Townsend tried to atone for his adolescent mistake by being “a good man.” Is it possible for a sin to be atoned this way?
Stella believes the model of her parents’ marriage will aid her in creating a happy marriage of her own. Is this a valid belief? How can people raised without such a model build a successful marriage?
During her years building her career in London, Stella assumed there would be time “later” to become a devout woman. Do you ever see this quality in your own life?
Both Stella and Evelyn go through phases where they believe it is easier to be angry rather than hurt. Can anger ever be a useful emotion?
Romulus projects a bold, overly confident persona to mask deep-seated insecurities. Do you know anyone in your life who does the same thing?
Evelyn was well aware of Clyde’s reckless streak when they were courting, but she assumed it would diminish after marriage. Can a woman make such an assumption about a man she hopes to marry? What should she do if she finds herself chafing against qualities she once accepted but now finds difficult?
Romulus was once wildly in love with a woman who ended their relationship. Is there value in having a first great love, even if it ends badly?
Do you predict Romulus and Stella will have a strong marriage? What about Clyde and Evelyn?

Elizabeth Camden
is the author of eight historical novels and two historical novellas and has been honored with both the RITA Award and the Christy Award. With a master’s in history and a master’s in library science, she is a research librarian by day and scribbles away on her next novel by night. She lives with her husband in Florida. Learn more at
www.elizabethcamden.com
.