Confluence - 8. Pressure

Monday morning Jonas and Walter Aiken visited Owen at his shop. They had all dined together the previous evening, but the brothers had refrained from speaking about the church service which so obviously singled out Owen’s soda fountain for censure.

“Don’t worry about it, Mister Owen,” Walter was saying. “Don’t take it personally. This is professional jealousy, pure and simple. Envy. This was motivated by money. The merchants who are losing business to you pressured the Reverend, mark my words.”

“And we have a very good idea of who’s behind it,” Jonas continued. “Elias Woodworth does not like to see us succeed, and therefore he does not like to see you succeed.”

“Did he say anything?” Owen busied himself stocking the newspapers and magazines.

“No, of course not,” Walter scoffed. “And he won’t. He always works indirectly, through his pals -- Doc Lawson, for instance. No doubt Lawson added a little pressure of his own since people are now showing a preference for a real doctor over a quack.”

“Yes,” Jonas mused. “Doctor Layne is by all accounts a fine doctor.”

“Yes, he is,” Owen said, somewhat defensively.

“Of course. Now I know that you two are great friends, but just for a while, until things settle down, maybe it would be better if you two didn’t pal around quite so much.”

“You know, just for appearances,” Walter added.

“What appearances?” Owen demanded.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what the Reverend was hinting at and never quite said. He was trying to paint your association with Layne as something unsavory, which is of course patently ridiculous.”

“Yes, it is. ‘Unsavory’!” Owen threw the unsold old newspapers on the floor.

“You wouldn’t be the first man destroyed by gossip.” Jonas caught Owen’s gaze and held it. “And I think it would be wise for you to proceed with marrying Ellie in short order. I think we could arrange everything in a month. First Sunday in August should do fine.”

“Any reason not to?” Walter blocked Owen from returning to the newspaper rack.

“No,” Owen said. “I’ll bring it up tonight. If it’s all right with her, it’s all right with me.”

“Fine, fine,” Jonas said with a broad grin.

“We’ll look forward to hearing what happens,” Walter said.

Jonas took Owen’s arm. “Meanwhile we need to polish your image a bit. On the Fourth, you’ll be closed for business, of course, but I think the shop should give away free ice cream sodas. Something in patriotic colors. Vanilla and strawberry ice cream with blueberries, for example.”

“Of course we’ll pay for the extra expense,” Walter added.

“Of course,” Jonas agreed.

*************************

Lily Griggs and Hannah Cooper looked over the magazines at Farnum’s Stationery. Both just eighteen, the girls were very preoccupied with appearing sophisticated.

“I’ve seen all these,” Lily sighed.

“I’m so tired of articles that tell me how to be a good girl,” Hannah frowned.

“There’s nothing here for more cultured tastes,” Lily observed.

“Nothing from the big cities.”

“Nothing from the Continent.” Lily had recently learned to refer to Europe as “the Continent.”

“Mister Owen has French magazines.”

“Oh, Hannah, I believe you’re one of those sinful people Reverend Fielden was talking about, always looking for new and exotic things.”

“That old fuddy-duddy? I don’t care about him. Let’s go to Owen’s and see what they have.”

“Mister Owen and Doctor Layne are so sophisticated. Mister Owen has read simply everything, and Doctor Layne lived in Paris-France-Europe.” Lily said dreamily.

“They’re the two most eligible bachelors in Franklin,” Hannah added.

They both giggled. Lily added, “Oh, let’s go then. Maybe Doctor Layne will be there. He’s there all the time, Lottie said.”

“Doctor Layne and Mister Owen are such good friends, they should marry a pair of sisters.” Hannah steered Lily out of the stationery shop. “Or two girls who are just like a pair of sisters.”

“Like us,” Lily suggested, and they both burst into a fit of giggles.

“But Mister Owen is engaged.” Hannah tried to shush Lily.

“Oh, pooh. I could break that up.” The two broke into fresh giggles as they made their way down the street.

********************************

Jordan continued to help in Owen’s Pharmacy, expanding his role to occasionally filling in at the soda fountain. A few older Franklin residents were taken aback to see him there.

“Where’s Jim Schaefer?” one portly middle-aged man asked Jordan.

“Oh, he’s taking a day off today to rest his hand. He’ll be fine. Back tomorrow. What can I get for you today?”

The man looked dubious and cast a glance toward Owen. Owen started to walk toward them.

But Jordan continued in a deferential tone, “Don’t worry, sir, Mister Schaefer taught me everything I need to know about this. And Doctor Layne and Mister Owen, they taught me real well, cleanliness is the most important thing. But I’d already learned that from my mama. She spent her life cooking for more white folks than there are in Franklin, and never a complaint from a one of them, only the highest praise. She always told me, Jordan, you make things the very best anyone has seen or tasted, and you keep your hands and your tools spotless, and you can’t help but please people.”

The man looked a bit mollified. “So your mama has cooked all her life.”

“Yes, sir. In a way, doing this little shift at the soda fountain, serving people something tasty, it’s my way of honoring her memory.”

“Oh, she’s passed away, has she?”

“Yes, sir. Yellow fever took a lot of people in New Orleans. Now it’s just me and my sister. But I know Mama’s looking down on me from Heaven. Now, how about if we honor her memory together, and you let me make you the most delicious vanilla ice cream soda you ever had?”

“I was thinking I’d like chocolate, actually.”

“Chocolate ice cream soda, coming up.”

The man was pleased with his purchase and paid Jordan a little extra. “For your little sister,” he said, and left.

“Is that true about your mother?” Owen asked Jordan.

“Shit, no,” Jordan laughed dismissively, his deferential tone gone. “Pardon me, I meant, Heavens to Betsy, no. My mama drove a delivery wagon with a team of mules. She was one of the toughest teamsters in New Orleans. In the kitchen she didn’t know a stove from an icebox. After Nana died I had to take over the cooking just so I could get something fit to eat. And Mama’s just as likely to be looking up from below in the next world as looking down from above.”

“Was that story off the cuff?”

“Oh, I’ve said something like it before. Mama did die of yellow jack, and right after that I took Nila and headed north. But the rest -- See, some people can’t handle the facts. Facts don’t always fit with what they think they already know. So it’s better to hand them a lie they can handle than a truth they can’t.”

“I see what you mean,” Owen mused.

“Still, it’s exhausting having to put in so much extra work just because I’m different.”

“I can see that, too.”

*****************************

Tuesday morning Owen stood before Mrs. Ogilvy at Doctor Layne’s office. “I’d like to see the doctor if he has time, Mrs. Ogilvy. Or make an appointment.”

“Certainly, Mister Owen. What seems to be the trouble?”

“Stomach ache. Stomach pains. It’s hurting quite a bit.”

“Have a seat. I’ll see what I can do.”

Mrs. Ogilvy walked back to the infirmary, then reappeared and said, “Go right into the far-left examination room. The doctor is just finishing with a patient and he has a cancellation for the next half hour.”

Layne stepped into the exam room in a few minutes. “Paulie. Mrs. Ogilvy tells me your stomach is hurting again.”

“Yes, it is. You didn’t come to see me yesterday.”

Layne hesitated. “I thought I should give you some time after Sunday. I had to hold myself back every minute from going over there.”

“Ellie and I are getting married. In a month. Sunday August fourth. We decided last night.” Owen looked at the floor, held his knees, and rocked slightly.

Layne sat down. “I’ve been pushing you into this too fast. I’m sorry. You’re not ready to risk the disapproval of the whole world.”

“Don’t do that!” Owen hissed. “Don’t blame yourself! Blame me! Get mad! Throw me out! Call me a coward!”

“Why? Because you won’t risk your whole life for a man you hardly know?”

“Because I am a coward! Because I deserve it! Because I’m afraid! I’m afraid, I’m afraid, I’m afraid!”

By now Owen’s tears were flowing freely. He doubled over, holding his stomach.

“Paulie, Paulie,” Layne whispered, catching him in his arms and laying him on the exam table.

Owen rolled his head away. “The Aikens say I shouldn’t be seen with you for a while.”

“They’re just trying to be prudent.”

“I hate this hot weather. I feel sticky all the time.” Owen turned to face Layne. “Meet me at the Falls tomorrow night.”

“What? When?”

“Eight o’clock tomorrow night. Meet me at the Falls, on the near side of the river.”

“All right.”

Owen was silent for a moment. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Aren’t you going to give me some bicarbonate or prescribe something?”

“Yes, in a minute.” Layne leaned over Owen and kissed him. “Don’t despair just yet, Polliwog. Maybe we’ll think of something.”