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By Root 857 0

Norway. (I bought extra stamps to save. I liked the colors and variety and thought placing stamps from various countries into books might fill the winter evenings.) I told them we had stopped to see my mother’s home. I even sent a postcard to my mother, writing of Finland’s suffrage vote. I didn’t give a return address. From Paris I sent Olea and Louise an Eiffel Tower photograph, and from Greece I described our walk through the columns of the Parthenon, how the stones chipped at my leather shoes. They were not unlike the stones between the railroad ties that forced my mother to buy me more than a dozen pair on our trip east. I tried to describe the color of the Aegean Sea. The furriers were charming, I told them. I said nothing about Franklin other than to note his skill in getting me from here to there.

How different this trip would have been with them along. I’d have been looking after Louise, probably contending with Olea over travel details, and I know we wouldn’t have taken the time to ride the mules to Delphi. We’d probably have stayed in Norway until winter. No, Franklin was the perfect traveling mate. Curious yet cautious, wise and adventuresome, respectful of the countries we visited, of their citizens and me.

It’s what I complimented Franklin on as we steamed back to New York. We carried with us finished garments that he’d place in the retail stores in New York. He also had orders for Chicago’s outlets and for Stone’s Furs in Detroit. We’d not spoken of the kiss nor had any other intimate conversation, but I knew we needed to.

“I couldn’t have asked for a better companion,” I told him as I toasted him with my glass of white wine, which we’d taken to the ship’s deck following our last dinner. Tomorrow we’d be in New York. A new moon sliced the dark sky, and I could hear the sounds of water shushing up against the ship despite the steam engines pushing us along. The smokestack belched out its inky scent. “You’ve been the perfect gentleman.”

“Not that I think that’s a compliment,” he said.

“Well, it is. A single woman has to be wary,” I told him.

“I don’t doubt that. Especially one as lovely as you are, Clara. And you are. Don’t protest every compliment you receive,” he added as I started to object.

“You took the scare out of traveling for me.”

“I suspect your mother did that, didn’t she?”

“She was daunting,” I said. “She showed me that a woman could be wise enough to raise funds to maintain us as we traveled and have judgment enough to get all the way to New York on foot. But we shouldn’t have had to make that trip. If there had been better decisions made before, and after …”

“People make mistakes,” he said. “It’s not a crime, Clara. Maybe you ought to forgive your parents for that. They were doing the best they could.”

“My parents couldn’t keep their commitments,” I said. “And they turned down an honorable way out.”

I wished again my mother could have written of the trek. Maybe she’d have discovered insights about herself, the commitments she made and kept.

Franklin spoke.

“What?” I asked.

“I said it’s not only your beauty that attracts, but the mystery and seriousness with which you approach life.”

“Mysterious? I’m just … shy,” I said. “I lack your wit and ease with people.”

“What you lack is confidence, though I don’t know why. You’re very competent, Clara.”

“Only because you and Olea and Louise have sponsored me. I have yet to do things truly on my own.”

He turned his back to the railing, leaned against his elbows, still holding his glass by the stem. “We could continue to travel together in the future.”

“I hope for that,” I said. “I may well take Kalmar up on his offer one day, and I’d want you to be my escort while bringing the foxes back.”

“That’s not what I mean, Clara. You know that.” I did. “I want us to pursue … what we’ve found here.” He pulled a box from his pocket. “It comes with no obligations, but it reminded me of you.”

I opened it. “You said I could set the pace,” I told him. I held the box in my hand, the diamond ring sparkling in the deck’s lights.

“True, but that doesn