By Your Side

By Your Side- Part One

I was always alone in the hotel. I didn't get out much either; I worked cleaning the small hotel, and with a pitiful amount of employees, I didn't get much time to be with other people. I didn't mind it much, my parents had always told me how the town wasn't the way it used to be, in the good old days, when they met. Of course, I had always wanted to find someone, eventually to leave the hotel and my parents and my little room I had on the fourth floor, where my parents and I lived. But I soon realized that my dream was easier to forget than to pursue, so I kept on at the hotel.
It was mid-October when I met The Man. I never got his name; he seemed to go as sharply as the wind outside that time of year. I was cleaning one of the bathrooms on the second floor, Room 32, I believe, when I heard my mother's heavy footsteps racing up the stairs. She flew into the bathroom out of breath. "Tess," she breathed, "there's a man here to talk to you. He says it's urgent."
I dropped my rag into the bucket and wiped my hands on my skirts as I skipped down the worn carpet stairs, the mahogany railings frayed. I remember taking this all into detail as I made my way toward the lobby.
The man was wearing a thick black raincoat and top hat, with muddy brown boots and pants. His cheeks were red from the icy rain and chilling winds. "Hello sir. You must be cold, would you mind stepping toward the hearth and warming up while I get you some coffee?"
The Man didn't answer my question. "Are you Miss Ivyson?"
My face grew serious. How does he know my name? I wondered. "I am, sir. Is there a message from someone for me?" I thought this would be the only logical reason he should know my name.
Again, he dodged my inquiries. "And you were born on June 24, 18–, were you not, Miss Ivyson?"
"How did you come to know that?" I asked, gripping my skirts, and forgetting all civilities.
The Man looked at me for a moment. "Then, yes, Miss Ivyson, I do have a message for you."
I let go of my skirts and eyed him for a long moment. What was he doing here, not answering my questions and giving me this stink eye? I began to fear him.
"Who is this message from?"
"The message that I was sent here to deliver to you is a dangerous one, and I would advise, Miss Ivyson, that you take it seriously. It is this: that whoever you fall in love with and marry, or whatever man you choose; the fact is that you must not kiss him. It will mean harm to you."
I laughed outright. I had been afraid of a con man! "Of course. Are you sure you don't need coffee?"
The Man put his hat back on his head, which he had taken off earlier. "Take warning, Miss Ivyson. What I send is-"
"Yes, I thank you, please come again," I said, ushering him out the door. I practically pushed him into the rain and bolted the door. I didn't believe we would have any other guests tonight. "Mother!" I called up the stairs, "you must start asking what these men are about; you let in a con man for me, my Lord!"

It wasn't much later, in November, when I met another man of a different kind, one afternoon. I was working in the lobby, which was a change for me, but I enjoyed the difference from rags to counters. A tall man, not much older than me, stepped in and removed his hat and great coat. I hurried from behind the counter to grab his things from him and lead him into the sitting parlor. "Thank you," the man said, his eyes asking for my name.
"Miss Ivyson," I gave him. "Would you like coffee, sir? And I can call a servant to help with your baggage."
He smiled. He had straight, white teeth. "That would be nice, thank you, Miss Ivyson."
I curtseyed and arranged his things. I brought him his coffee on a little rattling saucer, one of my mother's best hotel sets. "Lovely china, Miss Ivyson. Is this your own hotel?"
"My parents'," I replied, taking a seat in a plush chair opposite him. He had his long legs spread out before him, toward the fire, and the glow from the flames gave his face a tender tan about it, unearthly to the whiteness of November. I smiled at him. "I don't think, sir, that I ever got your name?"
He set his cup down, and rubbed his chapped hands. "It's Mr. Joe Howell, ma'am. I'm sorry for that incivility."
I tilted my head toward him. "Nonsense, Mr. Howell. It is all fine. Tell me, where are you coming from, and where do you plan to go?"
Mr. Howell, in turn, gave a grin. "You are full of questions, Miss Ivyson." I blushed.
"I am coming from Mills Town, you see? And I am going to Dryer. My aunt is terribly ill, and my father cannot leave the store to see his sister. It is a pity, I'll say. I think that if one's family is on their deathbed, one ought to go and see them!"
"I say!" I declared, taking interest on his errand immediately. "Did your father not wish you to take care of the store while he was away?"
"He wouldn't mind me doing it, if he didn't feel so attached to it himself. But there is no use in arguing with him. And I needn't bore you with my troubles, Miss Ivyson."
I flashed him a smile again. "Bore me! It is quite the opposite, I tell you, Mr. Howell. You see, I never leave the hotel these days, except to run an errand for dinner or breakfast. Our staff is at such low numbers that I have to stay around here most my time. I never get out to talk to people anymore. It is a nice change to hear a young man like you talk, you must believe me."
"A pretty young woman shut up in a hotel all the time! I have a hard time believing you, Miss Ivyson."
"You flatter me unnecessarily, Mr. Howell. Well, it has been nice sitting with you, but as I said, I really need to continue working here. Do you need more coffee?" Mr. Howell replied no, he was content, and so I left him to his own amusements.
I have forgotten to mention this man's appearance. He was tall, around 6'2, I would say, with straight locks of blond hair and tender brown eyes. He was dressed nicely every time I saw him, and was always giving my mother and I unnecessary compliments. He was a charm. I did not see him at all later that night, except for when I knocked on his room door and asked if he was settled for the night. He answered that he was. The next morning, he ate his breakfast with rough politeness, but apologized, saying he needed to be in Dryer as soon as possible. We excused him and he was on his way. I remember sitting at the window, rubbing my fingers on my handkerchief, watching him ride off on a brown stallion.
I did not expect to see him again, yet he showed up in the parlor around five days later. "I am afraid to ask of your aunt," I said to him, as I carried in his coffee.
"Don't be, Miss Ivyson. It is your good civility shining through. She passed peacefully, to say the best, and I was obliged to comfort her family."
"Well, I am glad to see you are back, and in no harm, other than the loss of your dear aunt."
"Yes, thank you for your condolences, Miss Ivyson."
He stayed until the next afternoon, and before he left, he gave me a little slip of paper with his address on it, in the finest man's cursive I had seen. "Please, Miss Ivyson, write to me when you find a down time at this hotel." I had smiled and thanked him, and thought how nice this was! I remember my mother remarking how polite and good he was.
We wrote to each other through the winter months, and we learned much more about each other than I would have expected. I planned to visit Mills Town in March, and there I spent a week off of work at the Lyon'a Hotel on Main Street, and spent all my afternoons visiting Mr. Howell, whom I know called by his first name, Joe. On the Saturday before I was to leave for home, Joe and I took a quiet stroll through the park in the evening. It was a little muddy, so we made our way, slowly, to a bench, where we sat and watched horses, carts, and lovers go by. It was there, in that park, where Joe made his proposals to me. I accepted, of course, for I did love him very much, and knew him particularly well. As we finished remarking to ourselves, we sat quietly for a moment, then Joe put his arm around my neck and drew me to him for a kiss, and our first one, too. As our lips touched, I thought quickly back to what the con man had said about me kissing, and had to smile. Joe took it as my happiness for our engagement. "I am very lucky, Joe," I said to him, and we sat quietly for a while. We scanned the park, and as I let my eyes wander shallowly over the faces, I caught the sight of a familiar, tattered old top hat, and rain coat. I caught my breath and stared more closely. Yes, it was the same con man, watching Joe and I, and glaring at me. I felt my blood go cold with fright. I grabbed Joe's hand, and stood up with it. "I am cold, Joe, dear. Let us walk back now." He agreed, saying something about how I needed to get up early anyway and that my rest was important. When I looked back to where The Man had been standing, no one was there.