Dru Faust and the Devil's Due

Part 23

After the party to welcome Archie home, George drove me back to our more modest neighborhood. Unwilling to worry Archie and Alex, I didn't tell them about the conversation with my father, but George asked what was wrong as we were pulling out onto the street.

"You've been awful quiet. That's not like you."

"It's exactly like me."

"No, you're usually observing-quiet. Today you're distracted-quiet. They're two completely different things."

I turned to look at him, my elbow propped on the door of the car, and finally told him about what happened at the hospital.

"I'm just nervous. Daddy's right; Mother'll have kittens when she finds out. I may never leave the house again. She'll be even angrier than she was when I got picked up at that gin joint last week."

"Do you want me to go in with you?"

I rolled my eyes, nudging him in the side. "I don't need you to be my knight in shining armor."

"Hey, you needed me when we went out to investigate that barn."

"I needed a ride," I pointed out. "I'm not allowed to use the car now, remember?"

George sighed dramatically. "That's all I am to you, then? You only love me for my car."

The engine backfired, throwing us both an inch or two in the air. I laughed, unable to stop myself. "If that's the only reason, it must really be true love!"

"Just make sure Elizabeth doesn't find out," he grinned.

We pulled up to the curb. Daddy's car still wasn't home. "It looks like I have a few hours yet. Would you like to come in?" I asked, raising my eyebrows pointedly.

George glanced over to his place. The curtain in the kitchen window twitched. "I better not. If I spend any more time over there, Mother'll expect me to propose."

"To Elizabeth?" I gasped. "But I thought your father..." I lowered my voice, unwilling to say the words out loud.

George nodded, knuckles white against the steering wheel. "I think it's official now. He's started going out on Wednesday nights. I followed him last week, to a place on Broad. At first, I thought it was a Mason lodge, but then I saw one of them pull up, robes and all."

I put a hand on his shoulder, but knew it couldn't offer much in the way of comfort.

"He said he doesn't want me spending as much time at your place anymore. Says it's indecent."

"What? What could be indecent about us?" I gaped, even though I thought I knew the answer. Mr. Blake was not the first person to criticize our family.

"He says your mother should be at home, not working, and definitely not chasing criminals." He swallowed a hard lump, his Adam's apple bobbing like a cork. "And he doesn't think it's right for 'the help' to live with you. He doesn't think it's right for you to treat Elizabeth and Rose like family." His voice pitched down to a whisper. The lines of his brow became hard, straight slashes, his shoulders stiff with fury–and, I suspected, pain.

I wished there was something I could say to make things better, but what? "Don't worry?" "It's not that bad?"

The silence stretched between us. "I should be getting home," he repeated.

I nodded, slowly getting out of the car, but I paused on the sidewalk.

George came to stand beside me, hands thrust deep in his pockets. "Don't tell Liza, would you? She's already wound up at the thought of us. If she found out about my pops..."