Indiana Belle (American Journey Book 3), page 14
"Don't mention it."
When the lady continued down Aisle 5, turned right, and headed toward Aisle 6, Cameron decided to split. He walked to the front of the store, moved quickly past the first four aisles, and bolted out the door unchallenged and hopefully unseen.
Cameron stopped when he reached the sidewalk, considered his options, and headed northeast. As he walked briskly toward the hotel, his room, and relative obscurity, he pondered the disturbing conversation at the drugstore, his research, and his continually evolving mission.
He was as determined as ever to find the cave, win the girl, and perhaps right a few wrongs, but he was no longer under the illusion he could do it unnoticed. To do the things he wanted to do in 1925, he would have to take some risks, break some eggs, and perhaps invite the wrath of the unsavory people he had hoped to avoid.
That was all right, he thought. If Richard Paine and Leonard Heller wanted to box, he would buy the gloves. He might even rent the ring. In the meantime, he would continue to do what he had done for four weeks. He would dig, ask, and learn. Running was not an option.
CHAPTER 28: CAMERON
Sunday, April 19, 1925
Cameron smiled as Marjorie Bell lifted a lilac to her nose, inhaled, and returned the flower to a vase in the center of the supper table. He had seen her do so twice since he had entered the Bell residence at five bearing gifts for every member of the family.
"Do you like the flowers, Mrs. Bell?" Cameron asked.
"I love them," Marjorie said. "How did you know I liked lilacs?"
"A little birdie told me."
Candice smiled.
"I told him all your sordid secrets, Mother. Be glad he stopped at flowers."
"Candice!"
Lawrence and Lula laughed.
"I would have picked up fresher ones today, but I couldn't," Cameron said. "The flower shops are closed on Sundays. Everything, in fact, is closed on Sundays."
"It is the Sabbath, Mr. Coelho," Marjorie said. "You can't expect merchants to do the Lord's work when they are changing money and making profits."
"I suppose not."
"I did not hear you speak of church today. Are you a Baptist or a Methodist?"
"I'm neither, Mrs. Bell. I'm a Catholic – or at least I was raised a Catholic."
Cameron sighed as Marjorie's smile withered into a frown. His campaign to win over the matron with compliments and flowers had just taken a hit.
"Oh," Marjorie said.
"I'm not affiliated with any church," Cameron said. "I take a broad view of religion."
"I see."
"Mother takes a broad view as well," Candice said. "She thinks Lutherans are as likely to burn as Presbyterians."
Lawrence and Lula laughed again.
"I don't like all this teasing," Marjorie said. "It's not good for my nerves."
Candice giggled.
"OK. I'll stop."
"Thank you."
Cameron used the cease-fire to look around the table and assess his fellow diners. When he did, he saw a portrait of Norman Rockwell's America: a staid businessman, a sociable wife, a rambunctious toddler, an uptight matron, and a free-spirited career woman. He liked the Bells. He liked them a lot. They were the kind of people writers loved, neighbors respected, and society needed – a diverse and colorful family that lived life fully and responsibly.
Cameron did his best to get on their good side. On this, his latest visit to the Bell mansion, he brought gifts, including cigars for Lawrence, chocolates for Lula, a doll for Mary, and a hardbound first-edition copy of The Great Gatsby for Candice. The book that would someday become a masterpiece of literature was published to little fanfare nine days earlier.
The time traveler gazed at Candice for a moment, exchanged a few friendly smiles, and then returned to the woman he really needed to impress. He had said little to Marjorie since arriving and knew that the best way to win her over was to engage her on her turf.
"I hear that you run the local temperance union," Cameron said. "Is that true?"
"It is," Marjorie said.
"Do you enjoy your job?"
"I do."
"What exactly does the union do?" Cameron asked.
"We encourage restraint and educate the public about the evils of alcohol."
Cameron glanced at Lawrence, Lula, and Candice and saw three smiles.
"Do you believe temperance groups still serve a purpose?"
"I do," Marjorie said. "Prohibition has done little to discourage errant behavior."
"Are you sure? I don't see much evidence of alcohol in Evansville."
"That's because you're not looking very hard. There are many establishments in this town that flaunt the law and even more across the river. Henderson is a veritable Sodom and Gomorrah."
Candice smiled.
"You're painting with a broad brush again, Mother. The people of Kentucky are no different than we are. They are just as ascetic and pious as the people in this house."
Lula stifled a laugh.
"Well, I, for one, applaud your efforts, Mrs. Bell," Cameron said. "Even prohibition agents can't do their jobs without strong and widespread public support. I think groups such as yours provide a necessary moral underpinning to the Volstead Act."
Marjorie smiled smugly and lifted her nose.
"Now you've done it," Candice said to Cameron. "You've given Mother a reason to serve a third term as union president."
Marjorie put her hands on her hips.
"I haven't decided what I'm going to do."
"That's not true," Lawrence said. "You decided you were indispensable the day you exposed the speakeasy on Sycamore Street."
Marjorie sighed.
"I suppose I did."
Cameron laughed.
"There's nothing wrong with serving a third term," he said. "We need more people who are willing to take charge and steer others in responsible directions."
Marjorie smiled at Cameron and then at Candice.
"I like your friend. He understands the importance of our fight."
"You're right, Mother, he does," Candice said. She smiled at Cameron. "Just the other day he told me that he'd like to join the battle against demon rum. I think he's looking for a purpose."
"Is that true?" Marjorie said.
Cameron glanced at Candice and fired daggers that could open whiskey barrels. When he saw that his glare didn't remove the grin from her face, he returned to Carrie Nation.
"It's true, Mrs. Bell," Cameron said. "I did tell Candice that I'd like to get involved in a cause while I'm here. I just didn't say which one."
"I see. Well, if you would like to join my cause, just let me know," Marjorie said. "I would be happy to assign you to any of several volunteer positions."
"Thank you, ma'am. I appreciate your generosity."
Cameron smiled at Marjorie, stared again at Candice, and then returned to his dinner of roast beef, potatoes, and beets. He laughed to himself. Without even trying, he had accomplished the one thing he had set out to do on this quiet Sunday. He had become a part of the family.
CHAPTER 29: CAMERON
The walk around the block quickly turned into a stroll around the town. When Cameron asked Candice if she wanted to stay out longer, she said yes. When he asked a second time, she said yes again. When he asked a third time, she said nothing. She merely smiled.
"I hope you didn't mind the needling at dinner," Candice said. "I only tease people I like."
"I gathered that," Cameron said.
Candice laughed.
"You made a big impression on Mother this evening."
"Are you sure about that?" Cameron asked.
"I'm sure," Candice said. "You practically gave her a stroke with that Catholic business, but she likes you. I know she does."
"She takes her faith seriously."
"So do I. I'm just not as rigid in my beliefs."
Cameron chuckled.
"I figured that much at the Cathouse."
Candice smiled.
"Mother wants you to join us at church next Sunday. There's a special service in Owensboro that she would like to attend. Would you mind coming?"
"No," Cameron said. "I wouldn't mind at all."
"That's good."
"Why?"
"Because I already told her you would come."
Cameron laughed.
"You like making decisions for people, don't you?"
Candice grinned and tightened her hold on his arm.
"I like tying up loose ends."
"Am I a loose end?" Cameron asked.
"You're a very loose end."
"I don't know if that's a compliment or not, but I'll take it."
"I thought you would."
Cameron pulled Candice close as they crossed Riverside Avenue and entered Sunset Park, an oasis of trees, paths, and grassy spaces that bordered the Ohio River. He didn't see any people in the park as dusk turned to dark, but that was fine with him. He wanted the park, the warm evening, and Evansville's most eligible lady to himself.
"Do you like the book?" Cameron asked.
"I don't know," Candice said. She smiled. "I haven't read it."
"You never quit, do you?"
Candice giggled.
"I try not to."
"I can see that," Cameron said.
"I'll read it this week and let you know."
"Sounds good."
Candice looked at him.
"Why did you pick Fitzgerald? He's a fairly obscure writer."
Cameron smiled. Oh, the stories he could tell.
"He won't be for long."
"What makes you think that?" Candice asked.
"Call it a hunch. I think Fitzgerald does a great job of describing this age. He understands the culture and the people. He gets what the twenties are all about."
"And what, pray tell, are the twenties all about?"
"You should know that," Cameron said. "This is the age of style, freedom, and excess, an era of recklessness and extravagance, a time where people win their fortunes and lose their souls in the same evening. I saw most of that on display at the Cathouse. Surely you did too."
Candice took a breath.
"I did," she said. "I've just never heard the modern age described in those terms. You sound like a poet or a sage who knows more about the twenties than you're letting on."
"I'm a student, remember?"
"So you say."
"What does that mean?" Cameron asked.
"What it means, Mr. Coelho, is that you've been in Indiana for thirty-four days. That's thirty more than I would have needed to ask questions and examine papers."
"You sound like Richard Paine and Leonard Heller."
"Did they talk to you?" Candice asked.
Cameron shook his head.
"No. They talked about me. I heard them blather at Heller's the other day. They think I've overstayed my welcome. They want me to leave."
Candice stopped, released Cameron's arm, and turned to face him. When she had his attention, she gazed at him with eyes that reflected concern, vulnerability, and fear.
"I don't want you to leave," Candice said. "I just want to know who you are and why you are here. You haven't been very forthcoming."
"You're right. I haven't."
"Then why don't you answer my questions?"
"I can't," Cameron said.
"That's not a good answer."
"It's not. Perhaps someday I'll give you a better one."
Candice started to speak but stopped when another couple, a laughing couple, entered the park and started down the path she and Cameron had taken. She took Cameron's hand and led him across a grassy expanse to a group of sycamore trees that offered privacy and quiet.
"I asked you that question because I care about you," Candice said. "You don't have to tell me everything. Just tell me more than you have."
"I will," Cameron said. "I promise, at some point, I will."
He meant it too. He did not know when he would tell her more, but he would do it. He would do whatever he had to do to win her over.
"All right," Candice said. "I don't like secrets, but I'll let this pass for now."
Cameron took her hands and pulled her close.
"Now I have a question for you."
"What's that?" Candice asked.
"Why do you like me?"
"I just do."
"I mean it," Cameron said. "Why do you like me? I don't have a job. I don't have money. I'm not even all that interesting. When you get right down to it, I'm kind of boring."
Candice giggled.
"You are."
"See? I told you."
Candice smiled but did not respond right away. She instead looked at Cameron for a moment like he was a problem child who needed a thoughtful lecture.
"I just broke off an engagement to a man who wasn't boring. Unlike most men, he was bold, adventurous, and even exciting. He was also cruel, controlling, and sadistically violent."
"That's not what I meant," Cameron said.
"Let me finish."
"OK."
"I've had plenty of 'interesting' men in my life, Mr. Coelho. I don't need any more. What I need is a kind, gentle, intelligent man who treats me like a person and not a possession."
Cameron nodded.
"I get it."
"'Boring' to some is pleasant to others," Candice said. She smiled sweetly. "In fact, it can be a pretty nice change of pace."
Cameron smiled.
"You've made your point, Miss Bell."
"I have?"
"You have."
Cameron put his hands to her face.
"Now let me make mine."
Cameron leaned forward and kissed Candice for the first time. When he was finished, he kissed her again. He kissed her until a million stars appeared in an indigo sky and promises he had made to a distant professor retreated to the recesses of his mind.
CHAPTER 30: CAMERON
Friday, April 24, 1925
Cameron knew when Beatrice Franklin directed him to Thad's office – and not Candice's – that his visit to the Evansville Post would not be a short one. He walked slowly to an open door, peeked inside, and saw the busiest man in town wrap up a phone call.
"Please come in," Thad said.
The editor motioned with his hand and then returned to a caller who apparently wanted to know a lot about ad rates and circulation figures. When he finished the call, he stood up, leaned across his desk, and extended a hand to his visitor.
"It's nice to see you again," Thad said.
Cameron shook the hand.
"You too."
"Please take a seat."
Cameron sat in the nearest of two chairs, lowered his satchel to the floor, and studied his surroundings as the newsman returned to his seat. No matter where he looked in the spacious office, he saw awards, diplomas, and photographs of Thad Grant with famous people.
"I like your pictures," Cameron said. "Is that you with President Harding?"
"That's me with Senator Harding," Thad said. "It was taken five years ago at the Republican National Convention in Chicago. I covered the event for the Post and had an opportunity to meet the senator shortly before he was nominated."
"It's impressive."
"Thank you," Thad said. "I'm sorry for imposing. I'm sure you came here for personal rather than business reasons, but I wanted to talk to you while I had the chance."
"I understand. It's no problem."
"Candice should be in around noon. She's running errands right now."
"I see," Cameron said. "Is there anything special you want to talk about?"
Thad shook his head.
"No. I just want to see how you're doing."
"I'm doing fine."
"Have you completed your research?"
"I've finished most of it," Cameron said.
"That's good. If I can help you in any way, please let me know."
"I will."
"I have to admit I'm surprised you're still here," Thad said. "When we met last month, I got the impression you were just passing through."
Cameron smiled.
Here we go again.
"I was."
"So what happened?"
"I kept finding new things to research."
"Is that all?" Thad asked.
"I'm not sure what you're getting at."
"Have other things kept you in Evansville?"
Cameron chuckled.
"Maybe."
"I don't mean to pry," Thad said. "Your personal life is your business. It's just that when my ace journalist shows interest in a man from another state, I pay attention."
"Are you worried I'm going to steal her?"
Thad laughed.
"Yes!"
Cameron smiled.
"You overestimate my appeal, Mr. Grant."
"Please call me Thad."
"OK. You overestimate my appeal, Thad. While it's true I like Candice and have been seeing her socially for about two weeks, I have no plans to take her to New England. I'm not sure she would go even if I asked. If there is one thing I've learned about your society editor, it's that she loves Indiana and wouldn't leave the state for anyone."
"Are you sure about that?" Thad asked.
"I'm as sure as I can be," Cameron said.
Thad chuckled.
"That's a relief."
"I'm serious," Cameron said. "You're worrying about nothing."
"That's good to hear."
Cameron leaned back in his chair and processed what the editor had said. Though he was getting tired of answering questions about his intentions, he at least understood why Thad was interested in those intentions. He had hired and groomed a rainmaker and didn't want to lose her to some interloping nobody from Providence, Rhode Island.
"There is something I don't understand though," Cameron said.
"What's that?" Thad asked.
"You don't want to lose Candice. Is that right?"
"That's right."
"Then why don't you do everything in your power to keep her?"
"I don't follow."
"Why don't you give her more responsibility or better assignments?" Cameron asked.
"Are you referring to her interest in hard reporting?"
"Yes."
The editor frowned.
"I haven't promoted her to the news side for two reasons," Thad said. "The first is because I don't want to lose one of the best society writers in the country. There is no one I could hire who could do for this paper what Candice is doing. She has an audience in the thousands."
