For the next month, the sinning continued. It took Nick and Mary a while before they were comfortable enough to move past kissing and the occasional grope but once they finally had it was completely worth it. They found every available moment to see each other beyond the sewing lessons. Mary would take an extra long time buying groceries so she could swing by and see Nick (his father was beginning to wonder why he was flushed after his breaks). On evenings when Jonathon would go to his men’s club and Sheila would be in the study Nick would sneak into the house (with Mary’s assistance) and not leave until early in the morning. Jonathon was oblivious to what was happening but Sheila’s suspicions were even more heightened than they were when their lessons had first begun. She had been going into Mary’s “sewing room” to check the progress on her daughter-in-law’s project. The dress they were making looked simply lovely and that worried her. It was too good for the work of a beginner. Either Mary had a hidden talent for sewing that had been unleashed, or young Mr. Carter had been doing it himself. If that was indeed the case, then what were they doing behind closed doors?
Sheila had suspicions about most things but this time she had never been more right. Nick had been sewing the pieces of the dress at home then attaching them at the O’Hara’s to make it seem as if lessons were going as planned. He never imagined that the older woman would be checking the work for marks of an experienced tailor.
“We should run away,” Mary, suggested, as she lay curled up in Nick’s arms one warm afternoon. She had begun to feel like Sheila was onto them and was now slightly worried about being found out.
“We can’t run away, where would we go?” Nick asked, dismissing her idea as a silly dream.
“I don’t know…somewhere pretty. Oh, New York City!” she smiled, always having wanted to go there. They lived close enough to take the train, but Jonathon and Sheila always went into the city without her.
“We can’t just run away to New York and leave everything.”
“There’s nothing to leave!” Mary challenged.
“For you maybe,” Nick said, hurt by how she had merely thought of herself for that kind of decision, “I’m from here, my home is here, and my family is here.”
Mary sensed that he didn’t want to discuss it, and she didn’t want to push him but it was becoming overwhelmingly clear that it was only a matter of time before they were caught.
“I love you,” she said softly, her fingers running through his hair, “I want to be with you.”
“You are with me.”
“We have to hide all the time, what kind of relationship is that?” she audibly wondered.
Nick sighed, making it painstakingly clear that the topic was not up for discussion. He was as nervous as she was about being caught. He did love her; he did want to be with her but couldn’t stand the thought of having to choose love over family. His mother had died when he was a child so imagining his heartbroken father losing someone else was just too much to bear.
“I do love you,” Nick whispered, his soft voice breaking the silence, “I have obligations here. I can’t pick up and leave.”
Mary nodded, pretending as if she understood his reasons. She did understand them to a degree, but couldn’t see the big picture. Obligation was not something she had to deal with.
The sound of the front door broke their trance and the two lovers scrambled to restore and adjust clothing, making sure nothing looked incriminating before rushing to the sewing table. They had barely sat down when the door opened and Sheila stepped into the room.
“Oh, Mr. Carter you’re still here! I’d have thought you’d be gone by now,” Sheila’s sickly sweet voice was only convincing to those who didn’t know her.
“He’s actually just on his way out!” Mary said, shuffling Nick from the room and to the front door. A quick goodbye and he was on his way back home.
By the time Nick had reached the shop he had seriously considered leaving. He did crave a change of scenery and wished he could be more free but the adventurous person he personified in his mind was not who he was in reality.
“If you think any harder your head might explode,” Robert chuckled, clapping his son on the back.
Nick shook his head free of cobwebs and turned to his father, “I’m sorry, I just have a lot on my mind.”
“The younger Mrs. O’Hara I presume?”
“What?” Nick was shocked his father would make that assumption, and wondered just how much he’d figured out.
“I caught on to you two very quickly.”
His father was indeed a mind reader, “What do you mean?”
Robert’s face softened and he led Nick over to a chair to sit, “I had my suspicions when you first decided to give her lessons. It was out of character for you and as glad as I was that you were opening up a little I worried that it might be one sided – her being married and all. At first everything seemed fine, and then I noticed a change in you. You seemed happy; I had last seen that kind of happiness before your mother died. I never asked because I wanted to keep you that happy as long as possible. There have been two occasions that I have woken up in the night only to discover you sewing. Obviously I knew something was fishy so I checked the fabric scraps and it was the same fabric that she had been coming in to buy every week. I knew then that there were no lessons and the two of you had to be filling the time with other things.”
Nick blushed, a deep red from the bottoms of his cheeks to the tips of his ears, looking away from his father’s stare.
“Nickolas,” Robert began again, his voice growing more serious, “I can’t approve of whatever you two are doing, this affair. She’s a married woman…“
“…But she’s unhappy!” Nick tried to defend, not wanting his father to think he was a tramp, or a home wrecker.
“A married woman,” Robert repeated, “Whether happily or not you’re putting yourself in a bad position with this girl.”
“I love her,” Nick admitted softly.
“That is exactly what I was afraid of,” Robert sighed and pulled his son close for a comforting hug.
